Storythread

Seems like an okay story so far. You make a few grammatical mistakes here and there, but nothing to serious. The problem that really stood out for me was that you seem intent on trying to cram in as much exposition as possible. The audience simply doesn't need all that information, especially delivered in such a condensed fashion. Maybe you could try being less specific and more... impressionistic, if you see what I mean. Make a painting rather than a photograph.

>but nothing to serious
*too serious.

yes, I do see the irony of making a grammatical mistake while pointing out someone else's grammatical mistakes.

Happens to me all the time. Sometimes I add one deliberately, but it's surprising how rarely I need to.

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There was a sharp divide where the fields ended and the forest began, something in the quality of the light. Too many shadows in the forest, perhaps.

The hunter walked down the thin dirt trail that separated one from the other. In one scarred hand he held a great storm-lantern, its orange light low behind the metal guard. His leather coat was worn at the elbows, from too much crawling in the mud, and stitched together across the back in many places where claws unseen had rent the material in sharp lines.

Ahead the sun was setting slowly, and the falling light seemed to bulk up the forest somehow, the individual shadows coalescing until it was nothing but a solid wall of darkness to his left.

He reached the crossroads and swung his bag down from his shoulder, pawing through his supplies. He was carrying little; a small bottle of the dark liquor, culled from the milk-flowers, that was said to kill pain. A few strips of meat jerky. Finally, a small embroidered sign he had fashioned in rough cross-stitch, with two simple words emblazoned across the middle.

He picked up the sign, weighing it in his hands. His gaze was caught by another sign at the side of the road. Made of aged wood, it stood well clear of the forest. One arm, relatively clean, with the lettering freshly painted, pointed away from the forest to a town he didn't know. The other, overgrown with moss, pointed deep into the woods.

He sighed, and unhitched a leather strap from around his neck. Taking a knife from his belt he fashioned small holes in the frame of the embroidered sign. He threaded the leather through these, and knotted it firmly. Finally, he placed the sign around his neck.

The sun had almost finished sinking below the horizon. He took a few steps towards the forest, raising the storm-lantern's shield to cast a thin beam of orange light onto the ground ahead of him. A faint trail was visible, leading deep into the heart of the forest. This he began to tread.

Within a few seconds the darkness of the forest had swallowed him. He didn't bother to look up as he ventured further into the trees. Outside the stars and moon would come out to shine, but neither was ever visible through the thick canopy of the trees around him.

From time to time the hunter passed a landmark he recognized. A great oak, its trunk split in two by some unfortunate stroke of lightning, a few pairs of red eyes glinting from its innards. The grey stone that lay by the side of the road, shaped something like a human figure bent over in pain. He stopped only briefly at each one, murmuring to himself while his watchful eyes scanned the darkness around him.

The light from the storm-lamp threw the landscape into uneasy relief, not penetrating far into the gloom. From time to time a shadow seemed to evaporate as the light touched it, streaming past his eyes in a vivid rush of deep purple, but he paid these no heed. The early tricks of the forest were nothing to be afraid of; the important thing was to keep one's wits.

The whispers were the next thing to start, sly laughter from trees he'd just passed. This too he had learned to ignore on other trips, raising the storm lantern a little higher and rattling it to show he was not afraid. They faded, but did not entirely die away.

When he reached the second oak, the one half-choked by thick vines, a bloated white owl, its talons stained with dark blood, fluttered down to land on a branch in front of him. Its head rotated to reveal the second face behind.

"What seek you, hunter?"

The hunter angled the sign across his chest up so the light from the lantern caught it. "Someone who can read, gremlin. Get gone into the dark."

The owl laughed and flew away to the west. The hunter continued east.

At the third oak, which grew from the ruins of some vast temple, its roots gripping through a broken marble altar, the hunter paused to eat a few strips of meat. The pool that ran the length of the temple was untouched by the decay around it, and he stared into the depths. A few maidens appeared reflected it in, shining and beautifully sad, but when he turned away they were only crows, hopping in and out of collapsed pillars.

"Will you?" he asked them, gripping his sign with greasy fingers, but the maidens shook their heads and the crows only cawed at him, so he went onward.

The forest had begun to grow warmer, and the air a little more humid. The hunter panted a little in the heat, and undid a few of the toggles on his leather coat, revealing rusty chainmail beneath. Above the sign that sat heavy on his chest the tooth of a dragon dangled, inscribed with a single rune.

Along with the heat the trees were changing, pine and beech giving way to mahogany and palms that still had taken on the ash-grey pallor of the forest. The voices had stopped, now, but from time-to-time the harsh sounds of monkeys screeching would reach him from the canopy far above.

Once there was an all-too-human scream, and the hunter paused, grimacing. Then he saw the lithe form of the panther, a dead monkey clenched in its jaws, and shook his head.

The fourth oak was toppled, rotted from the inside by a vast horde of termites that had since built a tower almost as high as the original tree. The hunter bowed in front of it, as was customary, and waited while the scurrying workers brought news of his scent to the hive.

Within a few minutes the side of the tower was covered with the scurrying insects, forming a vast face that looked down upon him and his sign.

"Now why, little hunter," the face mused, its voice made from the sound of a million mandibles rubbing against each other, "would we do that?"

The hunter smiled at a private joke. "I don't need you to, thank you. Just testing the principle of the thing. Thank you, your Highness."

He walked on. The mind of the hive watched after him for a few minutes, thinking on what had occurred, then sent a few hundred soldiers out after him, to observe. Half would no doubt be lost to the birds, but the rest would learn something that could be regurgitated into the memory-paper walls of the hive.

Before he reached the fifth oak the hunter stopped and cast about him in the undergrowth, gathering mud and moss that he formed into two plugs for his ears. The sounds of the forest died away and he continued with only his steady heartbeat beating in his ears.

Soon enough he saw the glow of sunlight through the trees, though he knew only a few hours had passed since he entered the forest. With one hand he freed the knife that rested on his hip and crept forward slowly.

The fifth oak was still growing green and true, by the side of a babbling brook. He walked forward into the clearing, and his heart was instantly glad. His feet passed from rough mud to soft grass, and overhead the sun's warmth beat down on him. In the distance, gathered round the roots of the fifth oak, he could see trestle tables where his fellows were sat with full horns of ale beside them. The conversation seemed raucous and full of cheer, though the plugs of mud in his ears prevented him from hearing it.

A maiden approached him from the tables, offering him a cup of wine to drink. She seemed perplexed at his lack of hearing. The plugs suddenly seemed a foolish precaution, and he reached up with a fumbling hand to flick them out.

The maiden spoke again. "A drink, Sir Hunter?" He took it gladly and drained it in one, feeling the fine wine reach down to the lingering darkness in his bones.

Abruptly, the light faded and he cried out. He was back in the dark forest, slumped on his knees in front of a shadowy figure. Behind her he could see the trestle tables revealed to be nothing but diseased roots of the fifth oak. The tree itself was infested with the crows that had been his constant companion since entering the forest. They were clustered round small bundles in the branches; with horror he recognized them as the heads of other hunters he had known. Their bodies lay around the trunk, some with weapons still clutched in their hands.

The figure above him looked down with amusement. "You have drunk my wine, Sir Hunter," it said, "and now you must do as I say - for is that not hospitality? First, stand."

The hunter found himself compelled to do so by the wine still burning in his marrow. He came stiffly to attention in front of the figure. Looking at it eye-to-eye now he saw an old crone, her skin withered around burning yellow eyes that captured his gaze.

"Turn around, Sir Hunter," she said softly, "and look back at the way you came."

Again he was compelled to, and he would have cried out if he could, for the path behind him had vanished through some magic and there was no way out of the clearing.

"Turn around again and face me."

Her eyes drank him in greedily, noting the scars on his face and the storm-lantern at his waist.

"Ho ho," said the witch softly, "a rich prize indeed to have wandered into my larder. But what is that around your neck?"

Her eyes wandered across the dragon-tooth, and then across the two words on the cross-stitched sign.

"A curious thing for a hunter to wear," the witch sneered, "'Kill me' - as if -"

The hunter watched as his right hand obediently rose and buried the long knife in the witch's chest.

I know I've read this before.

>yes, I do see the irony of making a grammatical mistake while pointing out someone else's grammatical mistakes.
That is actually completely natural. Most people can't see the mistakes in their own text, authors blindness is a term I've heard several times.

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Okay, if the guy who wanted the German story translated is still around, I've finished my attempt at an English. I'll post it in the thread (from the beginning, I've made a few small revisions to what I'd already posted), in case anyone with a better knowledge of German than me wants to give me some notes. The original is here ---------

'Be very careful.' Sana said to herself, trying to keep up her courage, her body pressed close to the cold rock. Behind her the wall of the tunnel had collapsed, opening up the passage to the sky, and a cold wind whipped about over the torn blanket of cloud. Immersed in the light of the shining morning sun, the clouds were a soft pink.

She brushed a gold-blonde strand from her face. The second time, she thought - I should have tied my hair back. She gripped the old beam with her left hand. It led along the wall, across the chasm, to the solid ground on the other side. A blast of wind shook Sana, but her feet stood firm on the small ledge.

She was very aware that this was her most dangerous undertaking so far. Master Ruven will scold me, she thought. But she was less concerned with that than she was hopeful that this time she would find something exceptional .

The researcher who had been in Ruven's shop two days ago had told them of this new secret entrance. He himself couldn't go down into the tunnels, for his work called him back to Akhor. Sana's Master Ruven would probably have gone himself, but he was getting too old for that sort of thing now. So on her free day Sana went herself - in secret - to search for the new entrance and the new unknown artefacts, which hopefully she would be able to sell in Ruven's business.

First, however, she had to get out of this tricky situation. The crag on which she'd got here had broken away under her feet, and only a daring leap onto the beam had saved her from falling into the endless depths below. Only a small outcrop offered her toes some kind of hold.

Sana looked down at her blue trousers. They were smeared with dirt. On her right hip there was a rope rolled up and clipped to her belt. She looked at the tunnel across the chasm, but there was nothing there she could snag the rope on.

'Of course not.' she muttered to herself.

She reached for the long knife that she carried on her left hip. Let's see if you're worth the money, she thought - although if not I'm not going to get the opportunity to ask for a refund. She drew the blade.

With both hands she gripped the handle of the weapon and pressed the tip of the blade behind the beam. The knife let itself be pushed between the wood and the rock. Sana breathed deeply. Then she stepped off the ledge and her body weight rammed the edge ever deeper behind the wood... and stuck. Sana's heart raced, and a shiver ran down her back.

After she had pulled herself back onto the narrow ledge again she got her rope and looped the middle around the knife's handle, so that the two ends dangled into the depths.

'So far, so good.' she muttered to the wall. She knotted the two free ends in several places, and at regular intervals tied them together, then let the rope drop from the ledge, down to the [sample]. Exactly as I imagined it, a rope-ladder, she thought, grinning. Then she put her foot on the first step.

Her weight only tightened the knots even more. After a few moments she was standing on the last knot, all she could see under her was the ripples and lumps of the clouds. Before her she saw the underside of her native Naberu. The flying continent went on endlessly to the horizon.

Sana stepped out of the last knot and dangled over the abyss. She didn't take long to consider her next course of action: hanging by her hands from the rope, she began to swing her feet. The first big swing to the rock-face in front of her brought a loud from the wooden beam. The small lurch that accompanied it was a big worry for Sana, but it was too late to stop now. There was only back and forth, swinging across the endless void. The bigger the swing, the more painful the pull on her arm. Then the stroke that carried her up to the edge of the rock... her fingers brushed a ledge... and slipped away.

Sana grunted in pain. The next swing brought her closer... close enough for her to get her left hand into a hollow in the rock. She grabbed onto it and pulled herself up, taking heavy breaths as she ascended hand over hand up the rock-face. She reached the top, exhausted, and rolled over the edge. For a few moments she just lay on her back, looking up at the roof of the tunnel, panting.

Good enough, she thought to herself. Getting to her feet, she glanced back over the edge, down into the depths. Nothing of the countries under the clouds was visible at the moment. Perhaps on the way back, she thought.

Sana looked along the tunnel. She could see as far as a bend up ahead. It leads right into the heart of the country, she decided. Maybe even in the direction of Akhor. With some luck when I get to the other end I might come up right in the city. She laughed, and shook the glow-stick she'd taken from her pocket. A warm red light shone from it, illuminating her way.

In a small rectangular chamber at the end of the tunnel she found shelves, with small hills of dust and old leather bindings scattered on the floor in front on them. Nothing of value, thought Sana, disappointed. She followed a passage to the end of the room, which led into a large hall.

Stone pillars supported the roof here. Light broke through a small hole in the ceiling. Countless crooked eyes stared down at Sana from the walls and columns. They were sculpted so that their gaze fell on anyone who entered the hall.

'The Eye of Nurn', Sana said softly. She sniffed the air - it didn't smell stale, and was surprisingly cool, which meant that somewhere there was still an open passageway. Her gaze fell on the small pedestal that stood inconspicuously at the other end of the hall. An object rested on it.

Butterflies fluttered in Sana's stomach. She stared at it for a moment, and then went straight for it.

As she came nearer a hot prickling passed over her skin. Her vision became a dark tunnel, at the end of which waited this artefact.

She took it from the pedestal, and it was suddenly all over again. She looked around anxiously, listening to the silence. Then she felt the warmth that was coming from her hands, and looked down. It was a black cylinder, its surface smooth and shiny. What is this, she asked herself, and crouched down. She turned it, and recognised a faint line that ran round the cylinder. Carefully she pulled at both ends, and with a hiss it opened. Colourful light shone out of the inside, overlaying the red light of the glowstick that lay in her lap.

Finally an interesting artefact, she thought delightedly. [She reached for the ring that the light came from.] It shimmered and shone in rainbow colours which seemed to flow into each other. A soft warmth radiated from the smooth surface. [She could reseal it], before it unfolded like a flower. Sana looked back down the hall. Perhaps I have here the key to the mystery of Naberu, she thought. Maybe I can also finally...

'Just as Lakali predicted...' said a muffled voice coming from the hole in the ceiling. Sana looked up in surprise.

An amethyst-coloured light flashed, and with a thunder part of the ceiling came crashing down. A thick dust cloud spread out. Coughing, Sana crawled aside, [pressing the ring to herself so as not to lose it - but her hand was empty! Between tears she saw the ring wrapped around her wrist.]

'Someone's there.' a voice said drily.

A woman, Sana thought. She could make out outlines, looming above her, silhouetted against the steel-blue sky. The right figure was tall, and wrapped up in a black fabric. Under a hood shone two big round amethyst-coloured circles, looking down at Sana. About her metallic hands ran lines glowing with the same light as her unnatural eyes.

Sana looked the woman up and down, and recognised the the locks of black hair, which shone like obsidian.

A shine...

.... which she had always envied [him].

The ash-grey eyes...

... which Sana had always stared into deeply

The stubby nose...

Sana felt hot tears running down her cheeks. 'Rait...' Sana let out a pained cry. There she stood. Armoured in blackened steel-plate, at her side a scabbard [and grown up].

Sana felt as if she had actually fallen in the broken shaft, and this was her life flashing before her eyes. It can't be true, she thought. All the forgotten feelings - the joy, the sadness, the rage - came back and crashed down on her soul.

'You promised.' cried Sana, and black smoke exploded from her right wrist. It lay about her body like a second skin. Astonished, Sana watched her hands as night-black claws began to form.

'We are too late.' Sana heard Rait say, unconcerned.

Sana looked at the figure beside Rait, who had pointed their right fist at her. Two halves of an arc sprang from the metallic armour and formed the weapon. Violet energy crackled and covered the surface.

'Rait, I...', the flash of light shot from the fist without warning and interrupted Sana. She was knocked down and saw her right arm spin in a spiral of blood.

'I'll help you', a man's voice said suddenly in her head. Without her control her body jumped up with inhuman power, straight at Rait and her shooter. No, Sana cried out internally. She crashed into the pair, throwing them to the ground. She braced herself with one arm and stayed up.

'No, leave them alone.' she cried.

In front of her the shooter recovered and, without hesitation, kicked her straight in the chest. Sana had the air knocked out of her, and flew back into the hole. Before she even landed there was another flash of light. She felt as if her chest was giving way, and a stabbing feeling in her heart. An explosion, and the pressure wave hurled her through the air. She bounced on the floor of the hall and saw nothing but black; pain cascaded through her. As she lifted her head from the stone floor, she saw between tears that the floor sloped downwards away from her.

'Best friends forever.' Sana repeated the oath Rait had sworn. Her best and only friend smiled carelessly back at her. Sana felt like she was back at their first meeting.

In her hiding place:

'It's been two years since my twelfth birthday.' said Sana. Rait nodded firmly, her curls swaying. The thin evening light that broke through the thorny undergrowth gave her wild mane that black glow that Sana so envied. It was so very different to her own radiant-gold hair.

Rait said: 'If you hadn't run away from home, I would never have found you here, broken down in tears.'

Insulted, Sana muttered, 'I had something in mind.'

Both of them broke out in laughter. Then Sana stood up and brushed off her elegant blue dress, while Rait straightened out her cheap linen.

'Tomorrow, then...' Rait said expectantly, her deep eyes shining with joy.

Sana looked over her shoulder through the branches of the undergrowth and recognised the walls of the Vasu estate. When she turned back to Rait she said firmly: 'I'll wait for you.' As Sana turned to go back, Rait grabbed her by the arm. Surprised, she looked at Rait.

With a determined look in her ash-grey eyes, her friend said softly: 'there's still something missing. The oath must still...' Rait pulled Sana to her, '... be sealed.'

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I'm sure my translation isn't perfect. I had to make a few deliberate compromises where I didn't think the direct translation would work in English, and I've put square brackets around the bits I wasn't sure I'd understood well enough to translate properly. Of course, it doesn't help that this is fantasy - in future if Germanbro wants anything else translated it would help to get a summary of the story so I know what the hell is going on.

Incidentally, I thought the story itself was quite good.

Thank you so much, it really means a lot. Wish I would be good at writing in english.

Did you have problems with context understanding or understanding from translation? Was the problem a convoluted plot or to bad of description of surroundings/enviroment?
Prologes/Beginnings are my weakpoints, thats the reason I ask. Also do you mean summary of the the whole book or the text? Do you still have interest in more? You don't have to if you don't want.
Thanks again.

>Did you have problems with context understanding or understanding from translation?
As an example, I knew
>über die zerrissene Wolkendecke
means
'over the torn cloud cover', but I still almost wrote 'under' because the 'over' didn't make any sense to me, until later after I'd read further I realised that she was on a floating continent.

Just a description of the story's setting and characters, and a short summary of what happens in the bit you want translated, would have helped a lot.

I wouldn't mind doing a bit more, but it takes quite a while so I can't promise I'd get it done quickly. Incidentally, why do you want it translated?

Thanks for the answer.
The reason why I want it translated is because I love these threads, but I can never contribute because I think I am bad at english. I write a lot and would love to share my stories with the people who give me all the inspiration for it. In this case Veeky Forums in general.

Also here would be my blurb for the story as a whole:

> Her best friend: Kidnapped by the witchqueen. Her home: somewhere up in the clouds. Her heart: Now a silent Mare. But despite that Sana will not give up. She wants to get her friend back, with any prize that has to be paid. Thus she sets off to bring the witches down. She is accompanied by Roa, a mysterious man with a mask; Iza a devouted harpy and Ikalla a bitter orphan-girl, which would love to see the trimurtian Empire fall. But this empire is what they need to bring the Witches down.

The story follows Sana as she tries to get her best friend back, from whoever she thinks controlls her. They try to end the inactivity of the Empire against the realm of the witches by ingniting war with proof of the witches meddling in the empire. A lot of the plot is going to be mystery solving and gathering evidence, fighting creepy monsters in the cities by night. Like x-Files in Fantasy.

Here would be the next part, if you are interested. Don't worry about taking your time.

docs.google.com/document/d/1QJrwfCV9GqORcUL9Sj1XsiFIWMsmDdR-R0QHKEkv1C8/edit?usp=sharing

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Steve: Hooooo-leeeee-shit man.

Hank: Told ya didn' I? Fully stocked.

Jimmy: Stocked with what? Come on guys, I can't see shit down here.

Steve: Fucking terraforming supplies man, wall to wall...

Jimmy: What? You foolin with me?

Hank: Nope, dead seri, checked 'em myself 'fore I called y'all in. This here's a gen-u-ine firster pre-supply probe.

Jimmy: Like, from Earth?

Hank: That's right, built by the good ole boys at NASA.

Jimmy: No way. No fucking way, you gotta be foolin.

Steve: He ain't Jimmy, I'm lookin at the logo right now. N fuckin ass-uh.

Jimmy: Sheeeeit, hold on a sec, I'm comin up there.

Hank: No you ain't boy, yer stayin right there and keepin an eye on that scanner. You read me boy?

Jimmy: But-

Hank: I said you read me boy?

Jimmy: I read boss.

Hank: Good, I didn' spend two cycles trackin this thing down just ta let some pack of Lithos sneak up on me while I loot it.

Steve: Loot it? Oh shit man, you crazy?

Hank: Maybe, but not crazy enough to call this in and let some damn Corp suit steal it from me.

Steve: Salvage regs say finder gets twenty-percent though, on a bounty this big that should be more than enough for all three of us.

Jimmy: That's for lost rovers and abandoned nests Steve.

Hank: Boy's got it. Aint nobody gonna give us twenty-percent of a supply drop, not when they could spend a tenth that lockin us up or tossin us down some Litho hole.

Steve: Awww fuck Hank, the hell did you get us into here?

Hank: What I got you into, son, is the chance of a lifetime. All you gotta do is play it cool and do what ole Hank tells you, and a few months from now you'll be sittin in your own dome, sipping real beer and watchin your kiddies run around on honest-to-God grass, while a bunch of robos tend your taters.

Steve: I don't got no kiddies Hank, you know that.

Hank: It's a fuckin metaphor, now you going to lend a hand here or stand around jawin? I pulled some records and there's supposed to be a manifest in each of there here sections, we ain't leaving today until we got those, as many samples as we can fit, and a secure Litho-fence around the area. Both you read?

Steve: Shit... I read.

Jimmy: Same here boss.

Hank: Knew I could count on you. Just treat this like any mining op, slow and smooth, no loud impacts, and pull back at the first blip Jimmy gets. Now let's see what them clever NASA boys *thought* great-grampa was gonna need to settle this shit-hole...

All I got for this week, can't spare any more time from finishing the storytime.

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Too bad, it was engaging for a talking-head story.

All contributions welcome

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So I'm GMing for a Pathfinder campaign and one of my party members, the Fighter has decided he wants to buy land, on which he will build and run his own Inn. Since he doesnt have skills that allow him to design and build an Inn, he's also decided to travel to the big city and find himself an architect.

This is where I could use some creative insight on how to make this architect and/or finding this architect interesting. It doesnt have to be a yearlong campaign but I feel like it would be a wasted opportunity to not make this interesting somehow.

I have trouble being creative when things are too general and open and this being a guy whom the Fighter pays to help him do a thing has too much of that for me to be able to easily think of an interesting angle on this.

Any suggestions on this or maybe a bit of brainstorming would be appreciated.

I'm guessing it's a straight-up Pathfinder campaign in a quasi-medieval setting, right? In which case there's no such thing as architects. What there are, are masons. Yeah, as in Masonic Lodge, secret brotherhoods, that kind of thing. Just about every trade in medieval times was organised into a guild, and the guys who built buildings (there was no clear distinction between an architect, a structural engineer, and a builder) were among the most powerful. The guild's members were bound together by powerful oaths and secret rituals which would probably have been considered at best morally suspect, at worst highly illegal (the point being that you wouldn't betray your brothers if they knew all your dirty secrets).

So, there should be some material in all that. Maybe your fighter, impatient to begin his project, goes to the guildhall out of hours and stumbles onto a secret ritual. Maybe he uncovers a plot by the masons to overthrow the city's government. Maybe he uncovers a plot by the city's government to disband the guild and arrest it's members. There's plenty of scenarios to choose from.

Having to deal with some kind of guild or organization is probably a good angle, yeah. I'm now also thinking of introducing more NPC, after all he's gonna need more than an architect. He's gonna need things like security, people to run his Inn while he's out adventuring, as well as suppliers. This would allow me to do some worldbuilding by having all these people be in some kind of trouble that is indicative of the region.

I'm not at all married to historical accuracy though, especially since I'm ignorant of a lot of it and so I'll probably stick to the idea of it being an architect.

Bump

You look across the ruined buildings and hear the mechancial hum-like voice of what appears to be a robotic thespian going over his lines.
"Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: A fellow of infinite je-" the whizzing voice appears to glitch slightly, jumping ahead of itself with a much darker, dramatic tone "-et you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh"
The robot pauses and throws the human skull in the air, catching it as it comes down. He turns around and looks straight at you and falls over himself, dropping the skull and his makeshift cane. "AUDIENCE, AUDIENCE" it blurts as it scrambles away.

I don't have the time to write this, but I'm chuckling at the thought of the skeleton telling a string horrible bone puns and necromancer dad jokes to his put upon minion.

>What's the funniest bone in the body? THE HUMERUS!

>What do you call a necromancer who makes arrows? A Flicher!

>... and then I say to the gravekeeper reanimate her, I hardly knew her!

>What's a skeleton's favorite instrument? Come on, guess!

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Can we get a story about the Fallen Dark Angel Brother known as Guts?

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Never posted in this thread before, but figured it's the right place to do it.
I've started writing a greentext some people've been asking for, and I'm not so sure about some things. Gonna post the beginning here.

docs.google.com/document/d/1YqXGDBqYAq5zlDoYAulf5GKeFIahld_6H8wgMj530MI/edit?usp=drive_web

>The format is unusual for greentexts
>It's a bit of a slow start, people might drop it because of lack of action.
>It's already obvious that the narrative and PoVs will jump around a lot in the beginning, might be too confusing.

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I wouldn't call that a greentext, replace the '>' symbols with quotation marks and it'll read better.

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Then he asked me.

“So Kianna, are you free later this afternoon? As in late afternoon?”

“Uhhhm, why Lieutenant Keaven?”

“Please Kianna, just call me Larell, or Lars.”

“Okay, Lars… Yes I’m free for the rest of the afternoon, I’ll just finish churning some butter for today after my break, and then I’m free… Are you asking me out-”

“On a date? Well if you put it that way, yes.” He simply said all while cutely smiling at me, as he continued. “Believe it or not, I’ve had some human women already made attempts at wooing me for being attractive, but I turned them down. After all, I’ve already found one woman who I like; and that’s you Miss Kianna.”

He leaned slightly closer to me as I giggled at him. “Ehehehe, aww that’s sweet mister Keaven- I mean… ‘Lars.’ –May I ask you though?”

“Yes?”

“You look somewhat… Different than your other colleges, you are almost just as tall as your elven brethren but your face looks almost like a human man’s, your eyes are as colorful as an elf’s but your pupils are the shape of a human’s. Also you have facial hair, short but noticeable. Are you a, half-breed?”

“Hmmmm, for a simple milkmaid you are quite observant, not that I’m mocking you for your proffesion or economic stance, just a compliment, ehehehe.”

“Heh, none taken.”

“That’s good, and yes I’m a half elf. My father is human who grew up among a human-minority society in Shene Edhil while my mother is full blooded elf. I do take pride in being a full fledge country man and patriot of Shene Edhil… But I shall repeat my older question to you Kianna, do you still wish to go on a ‘date’ with me? So we can get to know each other better?”

When he asked me again, I made my decision. And it is a yes, even though at that time we just met, I pretty much fell for him. Not only appearance wise, but I was certain he was a nice and pleasant person to be with. So I said yes to him.

...

...

Dude you post this every other thread, no-one's going to write your smut for you.

>Dude you post this every other thread

What do you mean? I haven't posted this often in the previous threads. Also who says it has to be smut?

It could just be the POV of a guy who's in a jaccuzi bath with female friends.

To be fair, I've never see that pic before in a Storythread.

>no-one's going to write your smut for you.
yeah, based in historical trends you may well be wrong about that.

She was betrothed to the lord of darkness. He was promised to the queen of light. For all their lives they stayed on their own side, night and day, content with their fate, never knowing to ask for more.

But oftentimes he lingered behind, to see the moon and the stars. And every once in a while she skipped ahead, so that she might look upon the red sky as the sun set. Then one evening, they both took the occasion at the same time.

Much of the meeting went to simply standing there and looking at one another, in silence. Only four words were ever exchanged, right at the very end, as the encroaching darkness swallowed her, and the final ray of the sun snatched him away:

”Let us meet again.”

And from that moment on, she hurried forward every night, and he stayed back every day. There in the border of twilight they spoke, and they laughed, and they cried, and they came to rethink their lives.

The wedding approached. It was to be at the exact same time for them both – at solstice, summer for one side of the world, winter for the other. Three days and nights before that, they met, and they had both firmly decided they no longer wished to go.

”But what can we do?”, he asked, nearly despairing. ”How can we avoid our fates?”

She, more determined than him, spoke: ”We do what I always do to see you. We run.”

And they ran.

They ran to chase the sun, yet never to catch it. They ran to avoid being overtaken by the stars, yet never to truly elude them. When she tripped, he picked her up and carried her until she could go on again. When his feet failed him and his chest burned, she returned the favor.

They kept to the twilight, where neither side had that much power, and they crossed the entire globe, twice, in as many days. They ran right past all the mountains and the forests and the castles they had in the past stayed in for a longer time. They fled right across the ocean, having little time to go around. If they had to choose between northwest or southwest, they always went with the former.

Never once did they stop to rest, though by the end of the second day they both sorely needed it.

Her breath was heavy. ”It is today,” she said, ”or for me, tonight. Just one more round.”

”And we are nearly at the north pole,” he added, hope growing in him. ”It is the polar night. The sun barely ever comes up here. We have far less ground we must cover to keep up.”

They smiled to one another, held hands for support and warmth, and prepared to run once more. Soon this would be over and they could relax.

But then a third voice spoke:

”Well, you two have spent so much time here, away from my siblings!”, spoke the duke of dusk. ”And yet why would you wish to do that? 'Tis such a momentous time for both of you!”

bump

These petty wars have gone for too long.
Every other night, another old man claiming the authority to judge for another country declares war on some other country for another absurd reason. We have had wars over land, over faith, over privilege, over an offensive word, over the right to declare war. It seems like every day these men keep finding another inane reason to keep dividing mankind further. This world has strayed so far from God's light, blinded by its feckless hedonism that it has gone down such a path.

It is with this reason that we, the Church of the Last Nail, have resorted to calling an Angel, one of God's chosen servants, to put an end to this madness. This world needs to be shown what a real authority can do, how a real authority can end wars. It will not be through protest, for those have never resulted in success. Petitions are always ignored by these authorities, The only way they can listen anymore is through war, so we shall give them a war. With the might of the One True God beside us, there is no way we can be ignored.

Already, we have had results. Soldiers who have heard our threats came to our church to silence our faith and prove our Angel a myth. What they did not expect was to see our heavenly soldier of feathered wings and pure white hair. They had no way to stop something that could not feel their bullets, no protection against a stake that pierced the hearts of the nonbelievers. The church grounds ran with the blood of these heathens, but then the Angel began gathering it among herself. Each river began slowly flowing upwards, like rivers in the air. Our guardian claimed that this blood could be purified to become the blood of the faithful, truly a miraculous thing.
Our proclamation that we could end this war has also brought about believers, weary souls desperately hoping that we could finally achieve some peace for our grieving world. The Angel tests these souls, ensuring that their resolve is strong and their hearts true for God.

...

Okay, I've done the next bit now. I don't know if this section was just easier, but there weren't any parts I didn't understand this time (at least, I think so), so I think your summary at the beginning was actually very helpful.

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The icy wetness of the rain woke Sana. I'm not dead, she decided. She opened her eyes and saw over her a thick, arboreal canopy. Directly above her there was a gaping hole in the branches. She bit her lower lip and shuddered. Moist foliage beneath her rustled.

Rait...

She crossed her arms in from of her face and sobbed. My arm... she realised, shocked. Through her blurred vision she looked at her right arm. It consisted of a black material, which flowed in slow motion like honey, starting at her shoulder. Then she felt a coolness on her skin, and looked down at her chest. Right in the middle of her shirt there was a round hole, with singed edges. And in the hole, where her skin, flesh and heart should have been... a black mass that filled the cavity between her ribs. It pulsed and beat like a real heart.

Sana let herself fall back again, and stared at the grey clouds. Maybe I'll just lie here and wait for the end, she thought. Whatever you are, you saved my life.

'I can do even more for you.' said a voice in her head. It was the same one that had spoken to her when Rait appeared. Who are you? Sana asked mentally.

'I am the the Raven Spirit and I live in this artefact.' the voice replied.

And you're my arm and my heart now? Sana thought.

'Without me, you would have no heart and would die. That's the truth.' Sana stood up and shivered, freezing. She saw some rocks in the clearing, overgrown with moss, which formed an overhang that she could shelter under. She drew a deep breath of the fresh forest air, and wiped her tears away. 'I'm offering you a pact.' said the voice.

And if I refuse I die? I'm not really likely to survive without you as my heart.

'I offer you guidance and wisdom in what you pursue.'

What I pursue? Sana thought of Rait and the shooters. That was not the Rait she had known. She was different now. As if she were possessed. Cold, dead, as if she were being controlled, Sana thought. I must save her.

Whatever you're offering, I'll take it. How can I save Rait? asked Sana.

'I neither know who Rait is, nor how you can save her. But what I can give you are powers... turn around.'

Sana did as she was told, and froze in fear. Between the trees rested a brawny mass. Standing on short hind legs, sporting long, thick arms. The animalistic face had a squashed-in nose, and slobber dripped from a mouth lined with powerful fangs. It sniffed the air loudly, and growled.

'Are you ready to take the pact?' the voice in her head asked. A simple "Yes" was all the answer she gave it.

The beast advanced through the trees. Thick drops of water beaded on its leathery green skin. Long, dirty claws dug into the ground.

You can start any time..., Sana said mentally to the Raven spirit.

'You have had the powers since the moment you touched the ring.'

Panic spread though Sana and she turned and started to run. The beast howled and the deep rumbling echoed between the trees. 'WHAT DO I DO' screamed Sana mentally. She swung herself over a fallen tree-trunk and slid down a small slope. At the bottom she quickly rolled over a rock on her left and ducked behind it. Pounding footsteps followed.

'Control your fear. Use your fear. Your fear will protect you.'

A tree broke and crashed down the embankment beside her.

'Channel them, use their intensity, their raw strength, and give them form. Use your will.'

I have to survive and save Rait, Sana thought. A huge claw gripped the rock above her with a crunch. A grotesque face peered over the rock, dark eyes looking down at her. Sana couldn't bear the sheer terror. She struck out with her right arm and the blackness exploded from it. It grabbed the beast by the head and hurled it backwards.

It rolled down the hill, yelping, and broke several smaller trees before it hit a thick trunk. The tree shuddered, and leaves drifted down onto the monster. Total rage rose up in it, and it roared so loudly that the foliage around them rustled.

I understand, thought Sana. She looked down at her hand, which had now taken the form of a claw. Then, fuelled by her own fear, she let the darkness grow until she had finally sheathed her entire body in it.

Then she straightened up and roared back. Her voice was loud and distorted, and new fear gripped Sana.

The green beast twitched, and fled whimpering. It's pounding soon disappeared between the trees.

Relieved, Sana exhaled, and the blackness around her disintegrated. Joy spread through her and she clenched her fists. 'Yes!' she exclaimed, smiling. Did you see that? she asked mentally. But there was no answer. Her arm was now wearing a rainbow-coloured shimmer, like the ring she had found in the black cylinder. Raindrops trickled silently off it.

Sana stood still for a short while to calm down, waiting until her breathing and heartbeat had returned to normal. A cold chill ran over her back, her clothes were now clinging to her skin. I need warmth, she thought. She could pull herself up onto some branches.

After strenuous climbing she finally reached the crown of a tree, where the branches were too thin to climb any further. But it was high enough that she could see through the surrounding canopy. Immediately she saw that in one direction lay a high mountain range. Not too far away. In the opposite direction the forest seemed to stretch forever. Behind her, however, she noted something interesting. Smoke, she realised.

------

Is anyone else reading this? I'd be interested to know what other people think of this story (and of my translation, if you speak German)

Those deemed pure joined our ranks as we continued our protest against the futile wars of mankind. Eventually, we gathered enough followers that we decided to overthrow the surrounding state the Church resided in. With the our Angel strengthening our bodies and minds against the physical weapons arrayed against us by the police and reserves, we had little challenge in our conquest. Divine Weapons and tireless power put a stop to their enforcers and our belief reduced their weapons to playthings. Truly, the Angel blessed us with victory in God's name.

We declared ourselves the Nation of God, a sign of rebellion against a secular, faithless world. We opened our sanctuary to all who believed like we do that all this war had to stop. As its shepherds, we of the Church of the Last Nail, have taken up the duty of its defenders against the countless heathens that will no doubt oppose our righteous cause. More Angels have descended to walk amongst the faithful, emboldened by our crusade for God's children.

It is only a matter of time before the world believes in God once more, and on that day, we will be free of the madness that has become so commonplace. To all who hear this message and seek God's love, join us. Our doors and hearts are open to all who are truly God's Children. To those who do not yet know of God's light, we will find you, and we will make sure you love Him as we do. To those who have declared war against His righteous kingdom, we only offer a message: Run. We will not stop our mission until your selfish ilk are driven from our earth, and we will reclaim the land you have stolen from Our Father. You will have nowhere to hide.

We are the Nation of God. We are the only bastion of faith. We bring the last war the world will ever see, and we wage it in the name of He Who Is Holiest.
Beware Us.

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Posts

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There is something that really caught up my attention about this one. I think it has quite a lot of issues (I'll try to put them into words if I can later on), but there is something refreshingly mythological and archetypal about it.
Will we see more of it?

Probably not. It was just something I did as quick practice, in the span of about half an hour.

That'd explain all the issues you saw in it as well.

“That’s great Kianna. My shift will be done by four in the afternoon.”

He said gladly as I too was happy. “As for me, I’ll be done within four-thirty. I’ll just be going back to churning the butter. And I think you have lunch with your colleges?”

“Why yes, see you later Kianna.”

And off he went to Elsa’s Pub where he and his colleges were having lunch and I went back to my daily work. Once the late afternoon at that day reached we both met once again as he was still dressed in his service uniform and armor, but did not have his helmet with him.

“I see we’re both just in time, and it’s quite a pleasant sunset eh?” As he said that, it was true. The sun setting was a beautiful orange gold that time.

“Why yes, so where do you plan on dating?”

I asked him as he told me. “No where really specific, just a stroll around these outskirts. Just to be safe and not wander into the woods you know? And perhaps find a spot just for you and me to sit and admire the sunset? And perhaps I get to kiss you too?”

“Awww how lovely of you Lars, you cheeky and romantic of you.” And so I and Lars went on our way, taking a stroll around the villages in the outskirts of Heiruu. We simply strolled around while holding hands, exchanging personal tales; some of which are funny ones, some also just stories we make up to entertain one another. Funny enough me and Lars have bumped into other Heiruu citizens and his elven comrades who’re couples as Lars’ elven colleges gave him encouragement, and some Heiruu townspeople who were coupled with an elf also complimented on how I had an attractive half-elven man holding me.

Then after some minutes of strolling while holding hands, I and Lars found our little spot near the river bank which we can sit on and take in the view of the sunset. Quite cliché and typical as far as most romance settings and scenarios go.

Author of here.

Sorry for the late reply. But as far as expositions go, I was simply doing the character's narration of what transpired and POV. Or is that also considered exposition? But I swear someone else did a similar style.

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Shame.
The lack of polish is pretty obvious, quite a few sentences sound awkward in that "I did not know how the sentence would end when I started writing it" but these things are always fairly easy to solve in post. The use of celestial bodies, and the fairytale/myth like tone and simplifications set up a fairly strong allure.
I was curious where would it go, hoping that it would eventually tie up into some real kind of natural or celestial phenomena. It all reminded me a bit of tales like the Tanabata story.

I'm glad you liked it, but I wasn't really ever planning to keep it going. The sudden emergence of a new character was a twist ending more than anything, and anything that'd happen after that was to be left to the reader's imagination.

>Or is that also considered exposition?
While the concept of exposition does not have strict definition, but generally speaking it's where the plot itself stops in order to provide with (hopefully necessary) collection of secondary info that the audience needs to know in order to make sense of the plot.

The last few sentences were, I think, the most confusing part of it. It made it feel like it's going to start explaining, like there is some crucial part of information missing, which is why I assumed the story would go on. Maybe a small alteration of the final lines could make it feel much more closed...

Well thanks pal, but since you're around here. What you think so far of my lil' tale I'm basing off an image of a half-elf soldier guy hitting on a milk maid?

Haven't read it yet (I'm really not giving these threads much lately, this one story just immediately caught my attention for some reason). I'll try to get around to it in a bit.

Gonna advertise my "newest" story so far from previous pre-mature killed thread again:

Asking for any feedback or thoughts. Thank you.

If we're bringing up stuff from earlier threads, then I suppose I could throw mine here again as well, see if someone else might read it and like it:
pastebin.com/YA4mChKF