Storythread

Okay writefags, time to get your shit together, because it's Friday and we need stories!

This is a thread for creative writing of Veeky Forums-related fiction, so epic campaign greentexts and the like go elsewhere. If you have Veeky Forums related stories to post, post them here, and hopefully some kind user will give you feedback (or at least acknowledge that someone did actually read it, which let's face it is what writefags really want).

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

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

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

There is a discord for writers:
discord.gg/6AwKHGF

The previous thread can still be found in the archive here
if you have any comments about the stories posted there.


And finally, don't forget to check out past stories on our wiki page:
1d4chan.org/wiki/Storythread

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Posted this story in the last thread but didn't get a lot of feedback from you guys. So I'll repost it:

On a stone pillar resting in the trough of a dried-out lakebed, past the place where the Earth embraces the Sky, past the Mirror-Fields, past even the most distant locales both verdant and poor recorded by the dream-sages of times long past, I read the sole surviving record of a man who originated from a place even farther. His name, the stele told me, was Attsi. This is what he had to say:
“Attsi,
The man who came from the Eternal Rice Fields,
The man born in transit between two worlds,
The man that lifted and carved this stone,
Slayed tenscore red-eyed men from Orin, and
Returned to his home to find it swallowed by the flow
Of the capricious tides that gird the rice-paddies.
So great was his sorrow,
So great was his grief,
So great was his loss,
That he vowed to never return to his family’s home, and
Left the Fields forever.
This land,
Which has no birds,
Which has no trees,
Which has no things that treadeth the earth or sky,
Shall be the place that he dies.
May the waters of this planet remain still,
May life spring from his chest,
May they tread this planet in the bliss, and
Contentment that never came to Attsi”.

No water can be found for miles around. Yet, there are trees that hum with life and birds that raucously shout their praises to the heavens. What cannot be found, however, is any sign of the warrior who called himself Attsi.

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>How do I look?

Like a five-year old girl with a giant butterfly on her head.

>Perfect, they won't suspect a thing.

When a human child with a disturbingly large insect perched on her head walks up to the front gate of their supposedly secret training camp? Really?

>Well, they'll suspect a lot less than if I showed up all spooky looking like you.

That's why I said we should wait for dark and sneak in.

>They'll be expecting something like that, you've got to think strategically here. They'll be caught entirely off-guard by my harmless and, dare I say, quite charming appearance.

I don't think anything with a bug that big on its head will ever qualify as charming or harmless.

>It's not a bug, it's a guidance spirit, which will neatly explain how I found their camp. And anyway, it's not like I can get rid of it, it's the spell's foci after all.

I told you to just get a ring of disguise, those hairpins are designed for noble brats playing dress-up, not assassination missions.

>It was only a quarter the bloody cost of one of those rings, I couldn't pass a deal like that up!

Yes, yes you could have.

>Well I didn't want to. Now quit your bitching and help me adjust this thing so it looks more guidance-spirity, it's only got to fool them for a few minutes while they go and get a superior officer to come figure out what to do with the lost little child. Then, once I've got an officer away from the camp I can just break the illusion, kill the guards, and squeeze all the information we need out of him before anyone even notices he's gone. Easy peasy.

That's never going to happen. They're going to think you're a vampire or something and open fire before you get within ten feet of them.

>No, it's totally going to work, you'll see. It'll be awesome. Now get into position, I'll signal when I'm ready for you.

*sigh* Expert Assassins, Guild-Certified Professional Killers, that's us...

Hi again. I want to repost my thread-killing magical realm from last thread, only now slightly better edited so I'm not bitched at for a lack of consistency

Today was another bright, sunny day. It was perfect for a date between you, an aspiring bard, and your new girlfriend, a mantis by the name of Tercee.

With a major gig behind you, you decided to take your girlfriend out for a stroll throughout the city. You had an entire itinerary planned down to the last detail. The morning would be spent wandering the streets to buy some gifts. Lunch would have been at a cafe you frequented while giving her (and everyone else) an impromptu performance. That left the evening free to spend however you wanted, hoping for your bug-girl to take it as a cue for a night of passionate lovemaking.

Right now, you and your lover are walking through a familiar marketplace, you in a fancy new teal cape and your trusty guitar by your hand. Tercee is clad in a modest pink dress with large sleeves, her head and antennae concealed by a wide-brimmed hat. As you walk on by, you hold one of her four hands in yours, constantly smiling while her eyes flitted about. You assure her that everything's going to be okay, followed by flattering her for her cute choice in attire. Though her exoskeleton makes it impossible to tell if she was blushing, her nervous clicking and fidgeting forelimbs give you a clue how she was feeling.

The market was bustling with life this early. Shop owners wave hello to you and complimenting your partner's clothing. You, being the gallant charming bard, happily accept the compliments and make small talk with the owners. Some mention some nice taverns to go take your significant other, jewelers offer impressive necklaces and bracelets to the mantis beside you, and that one old baker you knew even offers to make you a wedding cake for half-off if you invited her to the wedding.

In all honesty, you knew a lot of this was just something they offer to the happy couples of the town. You've seen the jewelry offered to other lovers before you, and you knew that old lady loved baking wedding cakes and going to weddings, but for Tercee it was all so embarrassing.
What you thought was going to be a nice time for her begins changing as you hear her chittering nervously after each compliment about her. After the fourth time, where you notice her arm pulling away from you, you decide to call it there and leave for the spacious park. Your first instinct was to ask what was wrong. Nobody was making fun of her, and you thought that everyone was happy for the two of you.

Unfortunately, insectoid communication is a difficult language to decipher. Even to you, a performer who understood that body motions expressed as much about a person as words, it took time to understand what she was saying. For example, her current nervous shaking and clicking translated roughly to:
>People notice. We together. How long.
You assure her that you wouldn't leave her side. You love her, after all, and you knew she loved you back. Tercee, however, remains nervous.
>Nice man. Happy man. Cannot provide.
Tercee was the daughter of a diplomat, but the vast differences between human and insect cultures made connecting rather difficult. What her people considered as wealth did not translate well among people. Though you knew all of this, you remember comforting her, saying that it would all be fine. After all, you promised that one day you were going to make it big and become so rich that this didn't matter. You asked your lovely mantis if she wanted you to calm her down. She nods, lowering her upper forelimbs a little to allow you to see her mandibles. You grab hold of her hands and slowly come forward to place a gentle kiss upon her face. As you tell her not to worry, the limbs immediately snap back up to conceal her mouth.
>Too nice. Too nice. Too nice.

Well, she was right. When push came to shove, you always were too nice to people. But just the same, Tercee was always too scared of things. You wanted to break her out of that metaphorical shell and let the whole world know about the adorable bug you're with. You decided to then switch your tack. Perhaps making her comfortable first would do before making her social. There were a few places in the park that you knew served insect-friendly delicacies.

You guide the fair lady-mantis over to one such stand, run by another mantis-man. You announce that you wanted to buy something for your girlfriend. She makes her order through that clicking language and before you could ask what she ordered, the mantis-man sticks a hand out. You pay and the owner delivers what looks like a lettuce wrap filled with all sorts of bugs. Compared to before, Tercee chirps happily.

She nibbles on her meal happily, making you smile. She halts after you comment about how cute she looked.
>Weird? Not Weird?
You recover by mentioning that she looks really happy. The clicking afterwards was one of contentment. The two of you walk around a little more, looking at the other people and insectoids. Ever since the Man-Insect Alliance was formed some decades prior, both species have been able to coexist happily. Trade between the two has only helped each other out and even their philosophies have become accepted. That said though, relationships between the two has not been as easy, mostly considering the cultural divide between the two. You knew that as well as anyone when you first asked Tercee out, but you promised her that you would make her happy no matter what.

Your girlfriend finishes her meal and begins cleaning her hands. You ask if she was happy, to which she nodded in response. You then decide to ask about her nervousness and if there's anything you could do to make her feel more comfortable. She draws closer to you a bit as she chitters.
>Want close. Want quiet. Want you.

You find a large tree with a view to a nearby pond. The place was quiet so you decide to sit down by the base. Once seated, your girlfriend decides to lower her arms, allowing you to have a clear view of her emerald face and yellow eyes. As you notice a second hand on your arm, you hear clicking.
>Know you trying. Want me out. Want happiness. Sorry. Always scared. Even since hatching.
Your eyebrows quirk at the sudden frankness.
>Want tell you. Thank you for this. Always being kind. Always patient. Too kind. Too good. Not for me.
You could feel her tension from how her limbs shook. You grab her hand.
>Really happy when told. Nobody ever loved. Never been like this. Still so scared. Don't want lose.

You comfort Tercee again, promising that she won’t lose you.
>Always say things. Say I'm pretty. Say I'm cute. Always embarrassing. Always care for me. Never for you.
Your next question was what she wanted to do. You offer to let her embarrass you for a change, maybe hoping it will give her some extra gusto. She then grabs your head with all four arms, turning it towards hers.
>I always remembered songs. Happy songs. Sad songs. Songs make feelings. Always admired.
The praise for your songs did get you blushing indeed.
>First dance was very scary. But you calm me. You call me pretty. You made so happy. For nights, always thinking. Always dreaming of you.
Your nervous laughter gets Tercee flustered as she realizes how you're feeling. You instead insist that she finish.
>I love you. Love. Love. Love.

Those were the words you were looking for. Before she could ask if that was too weird, you get right in front of her and kiss her deeply. Her frightened mandibles jerk open in shock but slowly rest themselves upon your mouth, and her hat is blown off by rapidly-erecting antennae. Her mouth, though lacking in tongue, delicately plays around with your tongue. Her arms clasp themselves around you.
>Love. Love. Love.

You couldn't help but smile. She really was too cute when she was honest with herself.

The passion of your mantis lover also had the fringe benefit of inspiring you. You ask Tercee if she wanted to hear a song. Compared to before, her nodding was energetic, excited. All you needed was your guitar before you started singing.
The song was about a beautiful flower that was always closed-up, but when you saw it, it always bloomed into the most beautiful shades of pink and red ever seen. You sang about how it always brightened your day and that it always appreciated the care you put into it.
All along the way, you see that verdant beauty bobbing along, her antennae bouncing to your tempo and her arms clicking with joy.

By the crescendo, you decided to ignore the guitar and grabbed Tercee all the way up as you begin dancing. Even though you were far more energetic and agile than the mantis-girl in a dress also concealing her thorax, she couldn't help but enjoy the performance meant only for her, your special girl. She looked so beautiful up there.
As the two of you collapse on the floor, she makes a promise.
>I work hard. Will make happy. Want to stay. Want family.
The hurried train of thought got you red again, but you're too happy and tired to care.
>Also promise not eat.

That last statement freezes you dead in your tracks. You nervously ask what she meant by that, hoping you just mistranslated something.
>Sometimes, female mantis...eat male mantis head. Old tradition. Only in famine.

Your feelings suddenly find themselves draining out of you. Tercee notices as much from your paling face and she mounts herself on you. Her compound eyes all lock on to get a full picture of her lover’s face.
>Love too much. Don't want lose. Want protect. Love. Love. Love.
She kisses you this time, and you spend the rest of the day just laying outside.

You were so lucky to be in love with this mantis girl.

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Hmm, that looks suspiciously like the writing of someone who should be writing guardsmen party stories instead of hanging around in storythreads.

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Requesting a heartwarming story for this human and dragon girl married couple.

Hmm....The father of her child was killed recently and human just stumbled into her home, as both somehow both fell in love with one another.

Something like that? (And if we wish something dark - humans was the one that killed her husband)

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Bump

Story for this picture. Also clarification of what exactly the thing in the picture would be nice.

I want to say troll, but I admit I have no particular evidence to base that on

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Agent Roger Brown stared at the photo again.

It showed an Argothite pyromancer casting a fireball into the wall composed of Kiev police riot shields. He could tell by figure on top of the mage's staff it was one of the CIA's own, and he could still see through that Ukrainian flag which otherwise hid most of the incantation's focal point. No Molotov cocktail could create a fireball like that. Years of psy-ops and forgery-detection training gave him the eyes to distinguish what was magic and what wasn't.

>"He panicked. He fucking panicked after we specifically told him not to use magic." the agent griped, pinching the space between his eyebrows.
>"And Rothaq also just HAD to wear his stupid wizard's hat. It's like he WANTS to let the Russians know that we've made contact with the magical world. Fuckin' rookie."

Being the mage's handler was never easy for him. Rothaq clearly knew the CIA's operation to fortify Ukraine against the Russian invasion; and his job was to cast spells of anger to rile up civilians as to knock some sense into their spineless government. But offensive magic was ONLY to be used in an emergency.

Covering this up was easy. Blame it on a ruptured gas line, or some rigged pyrotechnics, or something. The hard part was getting the fact through Rothaq's careless fucking head every spell he casts risks the exposure of the magical world beyond Earth. It was supposed to be the West's new upper hand over Russia and China. After all, it was how they pulled off Arab Spring, eliminating the anti-Petrodollar Qaddafi in the process.

Unlike the most of the other recruited mages, Rothaq was clearly becoming a liability. The CIA and the order it upheld has no room for loose cannons. Why did he have to be partnered up with some hothead pyromancer?

Roger envisioned all the paperwork and excuse-making he would have to do, whether the media finds out about this or not. He just slumped back into his office chair.

Just another day on the job.

>Wooooooooo, eat fire ya muggle shitheads!

"I, uh, I think I found him Arch-Magus" Scryer Matthew peered more closely into the omni-scope and winced as a second jet of fire immolated a pair of the guards.

Across the room Arch-Magus Bradlebran grunted and put down the tome he'd been leafing through while the Scryer worked. "And what is the esteemed Professor up to this time? Setting fire to the plane of nature? Convincing some primitive culture he's their god? Or is he antagonizing the demons of the lower spheres for 'teh lulz' again?" The elderly wizard shook his head "I really can't understand half the things he says anymore, much less what motivates these mad adventures of his."

"It's nowhere I recognize," The Scryer watched as several people on both sides of the fight ran screaming from the growing inferno "I believe he's portaled into one of the magically inert dimensions, and has joined some sort of uprising or riot." The scope flashed white as the wizard it displayed shot lighting from one hand while using to other to take a swig from a large bottle. "He also appears to be drunk."

The Arch-Magus snorted, "Well that part goes without saying." He peered over Matthew's shoulder. "Oh my, look at them scurry, how absolutely droll." The Arch-Magus shook his head and turned back to his tome, muttering to himself. "He's a Magus of the seventh order, has the whole of the multi-verse open him, entire planes of breathtaking beauty or the basest debauchery are but a step away, and yet he persists in going around stirring up trouble like this. Where the man gets his notion of 'fun' from is a complete mystery to me."

The Scryer shrugged, "I think the computational engine he procured during his expedition last year has something to do with it, at least before that he seemed far more keen on the exploratory aspect than the senseless violence."

"He really has been using that device far too much, I'd say it's impeding his duties, but his research assistants claim he's been coming up with a steady stream of amazing ideas since he's got it." The Arch-Magus picked his tome back up with a grunt. "In told them to look into his device themselves while he's gone, there may be some long-term usefulness in it, especially in the hands of someone less eccentric than Professor Runcible."

Matthew nodded and watched the omni-scope as a large metal vehicle filled with guards was turned into a wagon full of squealing pugs. "So, should I put together a summoning spell sir?"

"Hmmm?" the Arch-Mage looked up in momentary surprise, "Oh, no, don't bother, there's only so much damage he can do in an inert dimension before he runs out of mana. "Just keep an eye on him. If he's still not back before classes start on Monday, or gets himself killed again, I'll send some students down to help you collect him." He returned his attention to the book in his lap. "That will be all Scryer Matthew."

With one final glance at the miniature scene of pandemonium, where a wave of the drunken wizard's hand had conjured a rain of metal objects which began making small banging sounds as the crowd collected them, the Scryer tucked the omni-scope into his bag and left the Arch-Magus' office. From his bag a distant voice could be heard shouting:

>NO SENSE OF RIGHT OR WRONG BITCHES!

Sorry, didn't refresh the page for a while and didn't realize you'd already written something.

Oh well.

No reason there can't be two stories for the same picture.

I think they're both good, by the way

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Yet another one for this pic. Wanted to write it earlier, but got busy.

"What the fuck is this," Anna said, her voice unsettlingly calm as she set down her laptop in front of her boyfriend.

"Well, the caption says something about rioters and molotov cocktails," he replied, nonchalantly taking a sip of coffee. "Ugh. Is there any sugar?"

"Ivan. That's you."

"I'm sure a lot of men own black jackets and blue jeans."

"That's the same fucking hat I bought you for your birthday. Hell, it's in our room right now." Anna's voice was a four parts measured anger, one part exasperation.

"Okay, okay!" He said, quickly trying to come up with an excuse for why he was throwing fireballs at plainbloods. "Sorry. I got bored, then drunk, then drunkenly tried to walk it off, then found myself at the front of that shitfest." Anna sighed.

"Ivan, do you know what they DO to people like us in Slavic countries?"

"Beats me. Do you?" He countered her question with one of his own, taking another sip of coffee. "Shit. Seriously, is there ANY sugar?"

Anna paused. The young Scot was a booksmart college girl, but Eastern European history was by no means her strong suit. "Well, if it's anything like how people treated us back home, then you should probably keep your head low. Even if they don't outright lynch us, getting caught isn't much fun either. Aunt Agnes always going on about what they made her do during the war, remember?"

"Not another one of your aunt's stories." Ivan muttered. "We came here to get AWAY from your family, remember? YOU were the one who wanted to take a vacation the Ukraine."

"Don't try blaming this on me!" She shouted, angry that this conversation had come up again. "I thought you missed seeing your family here, you know? And I really wanted to meet them."

Ivan gave his long-time friend, short-time girlfriend a hug. "Hey, you know I didn't mean it like that. I guess I'm still a bit hung-over."

"We'll go to Germany, or France next time, okay?" (1/2)

"Maybe America. Maybe I'll meet some of your folks that live over there."

"Okay." Anna mumbled, giving him a quick kiss.

"Cousin Ivan, mind if I come?" I said, ruining the sappy, sickeningly sweet atmosphere. "Uncle Vlad always says how shitty being KGB mage was, and I don't want to be here when witch hunt starts." I continued, groggily holding my head. "Oh, and thanks for lending me your jacket."

And that, children, is the story of how I convinced Uncle Ivan and Auntie Anna to get me out of the Ukraine.

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“Welcome to the ‘port’ part of Fieldsport.” I said to the party.

Janah had spotted a small gate in the city's wall, but that was only there to allow people from the ‘fields’ part of the city to go hunting in the Foxwoods. Sure, I could have told them that the main gates leading to Fieldsport’s urban area were further off, but then I wouldn’t have gotten to see their reactions; Janah’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates, Vidt’s jaw hung open, and Alcance covered a small gasp with her hand.

They reminded me of my old party.

“So, what first?” I asked as they recovered from the surprise.
“I wanna see the market!” The young half-orc said energetically, her eyes sparkling like the waters of the Vraid Sea.
“I could go for some meat and drink.” Answered the the rugged dwarf, one hand on his bearded chin and the other patting his stomach.
The half-elf tugged at her shirt color and took a deep breath. “I’d like to take a bath.” I felt the clothes stuck to my back with sweat.
“Actually, I know a nice inn not too far from here. The food there’s good, too.” I added, to Vidt’s joy.
“Then it’s decided.” He said with vigor, before noticing Janah's slight pout. “Sorry, little one, but we can go tomorrow. We’ve got five days until we set sail, anyway.”
“Oh. Alright.” I placed a hand on her shoulder in consolation.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll like Rabbit’s Bed.”

●●●

The Rabbit’s Bed was just as I remembered it: Old, but with a homely atmosphere. While the rooms themselves were built in an older Aroson style — with round doors, circular windows, and intricate tile patterns — some decades ago the tavern and entrance were rebuilt with human sensibilities.

We stabled our horses and entered through the front door, the bells jingling as we walked in.
“Welcome to the Rabbit’s Bed. How long will you be staying with us?” The receptionist greeted, her face glued to her desk.

I pulled a small flask I’d been saving out from my bag.
“You got a couple of rooms, with a couple of beds each?” I asked, tapping it on the back of her neck.
“Hey!” Jade yelped as she grabbed at the cool metal container. “Bags! You dick, it’s been a while. What brings you back? Finally settle down?” She asked, her now long hair falling below her shoulders. Jade gave me a quick hug as she glanced over at the girls.
“You can keep that. I’m just here on business — we’ve got a few days to relax before getting on with it.”
“Mixing work with the honeymoon? How like you.”
“We're just party members, miss.” Spoke Janah, stifling a giggle.
“Oh, I know. This joker never did know how to treat a lady.”
“Only because there never were any around. Just some louts who drank beer like water and could out-curse sailors.” Jade laughed and thumbed through the guestbook.
“Well, we don’t have two rooms like you wanted. I can get you one room with two large beds, though.”

I shrugged, and turned to the rest of the party. “You okay with that?”
“Sure!” Janah said, cheerfully looking around at the interior.
Vidt grunted an affirmative, facing the direction of the inn’s pub.
Alcance’s shoulders hunched somewhat. “I suppose.”
“Great.” Jade handed handed us the guestbook and a pen. We signed, and she handed me the keys. “Let’s catch up later.” She added as we walked up the stairs.

“Who was the girl?” Vidt asked, sitting in a chair as Janah dived onto the bed she would share with Alcance.
“Yeah! Who was she?” Janah said, hugging a large, fluffy pillow as she faced me.
“Old partymate named Gem. We called her ‘Jade’ on account of her green eyes." I explained, dropping my bag near the room's large desk. "I take it you like the place?” I asked as she rolled around on her bed.
“Everything here’s so, so soft!” Janah laughed.

“So, where’s the bath?” Alcance asked, a barely noticeable tinge of discomfort in her voice. “I feel a bit foul after these past four days.”
“It’s in the back. You clean yourself up with soap and water from washbasins, then you enter the main bath. Heated, scented with oils, large enough to swim in if you wanted. The owners designed it themselves, basing it off some dwarven spa they visited.”
“That sounds really nice. I think I’ll go, too.” Janah said as she stood up.
“Just follow me. What about you, Vidt?”
“Maybe after I get some food.” He answered, following us to the door. “Whatever they had downstairs, it smelled good.”
“Try the venison.”
“Will do, lad. I hope they’ve got drinks to go along with it.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. Jade keeps the place liquor cabinet well stocked.”
“She sounds like a girl of fine taste.” Vidt laughed. “She got anything special?”
“Jade’s pretty proud of her own homebrewed mead. She also has a barrel of millennium-old wine in her personal collection. Always says that she’ll give a bottle to anyone who can beat her in a drinking contest, but that’s just an excuse to sucker people into adding to their tab.”
“A thousand-year vintage, was it?” He said rhetorically, fire in his eyes as we walked down the stairs.
“Don’t even think about it. It may be the real deal, but she’s never lost.”
“You’ve seen me drink, lad. I’ll be fine.” He chuckled as he made his way to the pub.
“Vidt, don’t do it.” I called out from across the hall.

●●●

Rabbit’s Bed was built upon a fairly large plot of land, but the inn only takes up about half of the space. The remainder is used for stables, a small yard, and the bathhouse, which was connected to the rest of the inn by a short hallway, and like the rooms was designed with Aroson aesthetics.

At the end of the hallway we entered a widish space, with gently sloped inclines leading to three different entrances. This vestibule, along with the rest of the bathhouse, was kept well-lit by scented candles and many large, opaque windows set high into the walls.

“Baths’re separated into three sections.” I told them, pointing at the broad arch-shaped doorways. “One for men, one for women, and a mixed bathing area. Enter one, store your clothes in a basket, then scrub yourself down and enjoy.”
“And towels?” Alcance asked.
“You’ll find them on your way out.” I said, already heading towards the men’s area.

Everything inside had its edges elegantly rounded, just as much for safety as style. Even the large bath itself was in the shape of an oval. Large edges carved into its perimeter were submerged in the warm and inviting water to serve as seats.

Even at noon time, the men’s bath was still fairly full; I didn’t want to imagine how cramped the mixed bath — or especially the public bath area on the other side of the wall — was. Most were humans in their twenties to thirties, likely merchants of some sort, talking business both to brag and to possibly set up a new deal or agreement. A few older elves and dwarves sat in small groups inside the bath, some chatting with each other. A couple of lone individuals kept to themselves, the water up to their heads as they leaned back water and relaxed.

I did the same, thoroughly getting rid of filth before I dipped into the calming water. I’m really going to miss bathing once we get on the boat.

●●●

My hair still slightly damp, I reentered the inn feeling refreshed. Jade sat idly in the lobby, looking a bit tired. I figured that now was a good a time as any to catch up with my old friend, while Janah and Alcance were enjoying their bath and Vidt was savoring his meal.

“How’s it been in Fieldsport?” I asked, sitting next to her. Jade turned to face me.

“Well, quiet. I mean, compared to the old job, but I knew it would be when I retired." Jade took a swig from a bottle of water she had out. "No more clearing out forest spiders or hunting huge wolves. And no more giant bears.” I laughed.
“Remember when the guild had us escort that merchant caravan?" She shuddered.
"Yeah. Damn bastards kept stopping to pick up all the dead monster bits."
"More importantly, they and the guild shortchanged us by saying that the five bears, two packs of wolves, and gods know how many spiders were just ‘part of the job.’”
"No need to remind me. Fuck those guys.” She downed the rest of her water. “But after that we finally started getting approached with private contracts, so I guess it was worth it."
"We finally got into the big leagues.” I rose an imaginary glass, and she toasted it with her bottle. “Still don't know how we put up with being glorified hunters for long enough to make it."
"Money was shit, jobs were shit, guild was shit..." She started counting on her fingers. "But we got by through getting drunk and cursing enough to make sailors blush." Jade inspected the flask from earlier. “Cider, huh?” She said with a small, sardonic smile.
“Same swill we used to buy back in Lakeville.” She knocked it back.
“Tastes just as I remembered.”
“Like someone fermented apples in dirty rainwater?”
“And took a piss in it.” Jade turned the flask over and shook it roughly, proving it was completely empty. We laughed.
"So, what've you been getting up to?"
I shrugged. "Same old stuff. Contracts keep me busy."
"Never did find something to tie yourself down to.” Jade nodded. “So, how are you liking your current group?”
“Mine dearest Jade, fret not. Jealousy unbecomes you. And I prefer no one companion over another, each being equal in mine eyes. But you, dearest Jade, are more equal than most."
“See, Bags, this is one reason why people think you’re a dick.”

“I always did fall flat with that sort of thing, huh. They’re all right.”
“What’re they like? Got an eye for that half-elf?”
“I say I once banged a half-elf and suddenly everyone thinks I have a fetish for sharp-ears.”
“Once?”
“Vidt, the dwarf, has a kind heart. Lives for the simple pleasures, specifically food and drink. The half-orc, Janah, is a good kid. Learns quick, fun and lively. Alcance is booksmart. Sometimes uptight, puts on a ‘wise elf’ act.”
“Ah. How long’ve you all been working together?”
"Six days."
"Well, how long've the kids been in the business? You never were particularly charitable, so I doubt you’re helping out some rookies.”
"Six days..." Jade nearly spat out her water. "It’s a state gig. Don't know much, but apparently some governor got Janah onboard. I’m almost certain Alcance is just as green. She's from Aros, so I think one of the families called in a favor."
"Six days..." Jade muttered. "I take it that the job’s pretty cushy, then?" I glanced around, then leaned in to whisper.
"They’re paying us to escort a diplomat to Dovran." I told her then sat back. "Twenty-eight for about eight weeks' worth of work, and they’ll cover half our expenses while we’re on the job."
"Maybe I shouldn't have quit."
“Oh, please. You don’t need the money.”
“Neither do you.” Jade replied with a cheeky grin.

Suddenly she grew serious, her face growing tense as she grabbed my hand and looked straight into my eyes. "You'd better keep those kids safe, no matter what. It'd be a shame to let pretty faces like theirs bite it." I paused.
"I know.” I answered. “I don’t think I need to worry, though.” I said, thinking about the strong, short-haired girl who stood a full head taller than me. “Janah’s some sort of fighting genius. She’ll grow up to be something special.” I continued, my thoughts turning to the lean, braided-bun-head who barely came up to my nose.

“And Alcance is a deadshot with her bow. She’s got a good head on her shoulders; once she gets some experience she’ll be fine.”
"I’ll trust that you know what you’re doing." Jade replied after giving it some thought. “Is the dwarf any good?” She added.
“Guy fought during Tennholm’s Troubles. One of the nicest folks I’ve ever met, too. Speaking of Vidt, is he still eating?”
“I had to haul him off back to your room. He got hammered harder than an anvil.”
“Really?” I asked, standing up. “I haven’t seen him drunk.”
“Guy can hold his liquor, so it figures that you haven’t seen him get smashed in only six days.” Jade followed me into my room.

●●●

“Really? Crawley?” I asked with a soft chuckle, as Alcance and Janah returned. “You two look happy.”
“It was a lovely bath.” Alcance said. Her unbraided dark brown hair gently flowed around her as she contentedly plopped onto her bed.
“It was great!” Janah answered, doing the same. “So, what’s been going on?” Her eyes briefly darted to Jade.
“Well, Vidt’s black-out drunk.” I replied.
“My shift's over, so I'm just catching up with this joker.” Jade nudged me in my ribs. “You kids keep him safe for me, alright?”
“Will do, miss.” Janah giggled. “So who’s Crawley?”
“Some big, dumb guy we used to work with.” Jade answered with a shrug.
“‘Dumb’ being the key word. You’d never guess he was a paladin.”
“The one you told us about?”
“Oh, you’ve told them a Crawley story? Which one, the Church squares?”
“The Church square story?” Janah asked energetically. Jade turned to Janah.
“Huh, that’s the one he usually tells. Hey, Bags—” I tossed her my coin purse before she finished her sentence. “Thanks.” Jade said as she rifled through my money.

“It’s not uncommon for different areas to have different common currencies, but Fieldsport used to insist on only using their own notes. A few years back, when Bags and I were in the same party, the city had a big problem with counterfeit notes. Fakes were becoming incredibly common, and it was threatening to wreck the city’s economy. They'd tried to issue new designs, but that only ended up confusing people even more as new counterfeits quickly showed up. Things wouldn’t have been so bad if the damn council wasn't still stubbornly refusing to adopt new currency.”

“Fieldsport had people working ‘round the clock to fix things, but they also offered the equivalent of fifty silvers each,” Jade continued while stacking some silver coins, “to anyone who could solve the case. Lakeville was also keen to fix the mess going on in the country’s biggest trade center, so they sent a bunch of groups to help out. Our party was one of them, and we were eager to complete the job — Lakeville would pay another thirty silvers per person on top of Fieldsport’s reward. But after about a month with no leads we were about to call it quits like everyone else. And then Crawley found something.”

“Crawley spent most of his free time talking to clergy, which none of us really minded. Right as we were about to give up he learned that one of their churchgoers had lately been giving donations solely in squares.” She held up a square piece with a round hole in the middle.

“Now, the church manages its own currency, which it gives to clergy and paladins who spend it on their expenses. They’re made of clay and painted a dull silver, so their value comes from the Church’s backing, And they’ve all got this hole in the middle, so that people can tie 'em together with string. But Crawley had heard that someone was donating squares made of pure silver and with square holes.” Jade showed Janah the counterfeit I’d kept.

“No one else thought it was connected, but Crawley was convinced that this was the result of some counterfeiter making a stupid slip-up. The fake squares stopped appearing soon after, but he’d already managed to find out who was donating them. Expecting nothing, we investigated our mark, followed him around a bit, and quickly learned where the counterfeiters kept all their equipment and resources. A while later we had the city guards raid the place, and we collected our reward.”

“True to their word, Lakeville gave each of us thirty silvers — they even threw in a little bonus. But Fieldsport’s council, being Fieldsport’s council, paid us the equivalent of fifty silvers in notes. Notes that had been heavily devalued, and notes that they quickly phased out for actual silvers.” Jade said, starting to put my money back into the coin purse. Janah clapped and giggled heavily at the end of her story.

“Hey, Jade.” I said after she gave me back my wallet. “I’m three silvers light.”
“Oh, please. You don’t need the money. And I need your friend’s bar tab paid.” Vidt groaned in his liquor-induced sleep.

JOURNAL END

P.S. Buy some blank books and ink. These past few journal entries have been getting kind of long.

Previous Journal

Welp, thanks for reading to anyone who got through all these posts. I wanted to try to make these shorter, because I know I get slightly daunted and a bit off-put when I see someone's written a long story, but it looks like each entry’ll still be pretty long. Thanks for taking the time to read this, and if you want to spare a bit more I'd really love feedback. Especially negative.

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So...No one would mind if this was turned into a tale with a dark side to it?

Is that Nixon fighting a steroid sabertooth?

No, it's a steroid Nixon fighting a normal sabretooth. Totally different - even 'roided up, Nixon isn't crazy enough to take on a steroid sabretooth.

You don't get presidents like that any more.

You won't hear any complaints from me.

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hello

is this the funhouse

i know it's 930 on a sunday but i am here if anyone has any requests

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