Storythread

The fortnightly Storythread returns, ready to bring quality, thought provoking literature to the masses of Veeky Forums. And also elf smut, if past threads are any indication.

This is a thread for creative writing of Veeky Forums-related fiction, so epic campaign greentexts and other non-fiction 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).

What counts as Veeky Forums-related? Anything someone could plausibly use in a campaign (which means basically anything if you have enough imagination).

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 you may want to head over to the dedicated 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


Don't forget to check out past stories on our wiki page:
1d4chan.org/wiki/Storythread

Other urls found in this thread:

drive.google.com/file/d/0B_fAtj0aadzVYTI0RDlFSGxNMnM/view?usp=sharing
pastebin.com/e6mk3uk2
youtube.com/watch?v=uyp6c0GZddI
twitter.com/SFWRedditImages

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hey chronicle man, did you upload last week's stories?

I'm sorry, I've got most of the way through capping the stories from the last thread but I've been really busy lately.

Not only have I had less free time recently, stupid person that I am I volunteered to run a d&d campaign for some friends. And by 'run a d&d campaign' I mean write a new campaign AND setting from scratch. So yeah, most of what little free time I've had recently has been taken up with that. The first session is Saturday lunchtime (so, today or tomorrow depending on which timezone you're in). Wish me luck.

Hopefully after that's done with I'll be able to update the wiki some time over the weekend.

Btw, there were some good stories in the last thread. I wish I'd had time to comment on them, but maybe if I get a minute I'll post some of my thoughts on one or two of them.

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>d&d

Actually, if given the choice I'd like to run a Dark Heresy campaign. However, my group is a Dungeons and Dragons group, and since this is my first time DMing it probably is best if I stick to a system I'm at least vaguely familiar with.

Well, good night everyone. Hopefully this thread will still be here in the morning.

>Hey Jenkins
>What?
>You ever wonder why half our gear looks all transparent and orange?
>It's to offset the UV rays, isn't it?
>Well, for the visors, yeah, but...the chainsaw? The skis? Even our satellite dish is orange and transparent!
>You sure it's not just your visor, Wilburt?
>I can see the mountain right through my chainsaw. That sure as hell isn't my visor.
>Huh, really...thought it was just me who could see through this barrel...
>And that's another thing! What kind of manufacturer makes a gun with a transparent orange barrel?
>I just thought it shot lasers...
>Lasers do not work that way! That barrel would just scatter the laser a hundred different directions! That's a hazard!
>But then...why did they give me this?
>And another thing - look at our mobile base! Where's the roof?
>Well, I thought the view was nice with this...
>But Jenkins, it's a safety hazard! God forbid, but it some massive chunk of ice were to drop on us, that glass roof would be even bigger risk! Those shards could kill us!
>But...are we sure this is glass?I mean, how would a glass chainsaw work?
>But...huh, how would this cut ice if it's glass...?
>And how do our antennas work?
>Yeah, I thought fiber optics were still too expensive...
>And more to the point, why do we even need a gun in the arctic? We're not looking for aliens!
>Well...self-defense? You know how wild animals sometimes turn out.
>But didn't you say...?
>Look, I don't know why they gave us this crap! I mean seriously, they gave us transparent orange chainsaws! There's no reason this should be even here!
>It just doesn't make sense...

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As the horses started to trot towards the norscan lines, a cold wind buffeted the riders, sending a shiver down their spine. Bohemond hoped that this skirmish would be over soon. It wouldn't be long before he was on one of the boats and heading home.

The cavalry opposing them was a small mass of norscans. They might be dangerous warriors but their steeds were no match for bretonnian warhorses. This would be easy. The distant thunder of the imperial guns was growing fainter as they built up speed and moved towards their foe
A curious sense of deja vu came over him as the horses broke into a gallop. It was as if he had been fighting here before. The norscans were now clearly visible, and Bohemond gulped as he realized that they weren't norscans on horses. Some vile mutation had turned their skin into bark and even as the bretonnian line dipped lances the tree-norscans sprouted into new life.
The last thing Bohemond remembered was that he was charging this horrific host all alone. Then his world exploded into pain.

Bohemond woke up with a start, feeling the sweat on the back of his neck. The pain felt real, almost as if the dream had tried to hurt him physically. He quickly ran his hands around his midsection and felt bandages around his midsection. He breathed deeply and then looked around. He didn't remember if his jaw was left hanging open

Bohemond was in a room, if it could be called that. The walls around him seemed to be made of bark, but so exquisite they would have made Alberic's ducal chambers seem shabby in comparison. The room was brilliantly lit by what seemed like hundreds of fireflies moving around the air in lazy patterns. He was lying on a bed, fit for the Kng, and the silken sheets that covered him were almost liquid to the touch.
A crystal jug filled with water and a goblet of the same material were right next to him on a low table.
This was beyond doubt the most luxurious place he had ever woken up in. This was in paradise, or this was a dream.

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>On Family and Childhood
I don't really have a family. Simple as that.

Well, once when I was little - and I mean really little - I remember living with two people in this boring little village. All I really remember about that place was only being locked up in all these expectations. I had to be a normal girl, I had to have normal hobbies, I had to read normal books. Normal this, normal that... I hated that place. I could never be just me there. At some point, I somehow discovered that I could use magic. They picked up on that some point and...well, they didn't take too kindly to it. After all, the village I lived in hunted witches and being a witch meant that I couldn't be the perfectly ordinary girl they wanted. Put them together, and I suddenly found these people I lived with suddenly sharpening pitchforks and lighting torches.

So I did the one thing, the only thing I could do: I ran away. Just me, a small sack of clothes, and a forest I've never walked into in my life. I got lost in there, of course, but I thought I was safer there than in that house. Even though I was starving, even though I was completely alone and defenseless, I knew that I could actually be what I wanted to be for once, and never have to be anything else.

Looking back, I still think I did the right thing. Perfectly ordinary people are only perfectly boring. They don't do anything. They just live locked in their own little cages of tedium, living and dying without ever knowing what it's like outside of it. They're always scared of everything that's outside of that cage for no good reason, even when it doesn't hurt them. I hated that life, and I never want to look back at it ever again. I never would have become the person I am right now without being something that wasn't normal, so I'm glad that I was smart enough to run away from that place.

Well, so where was I? Oh, right, I was lost in the middle of the forest. It was dark, scary, and absolutely deserted. Combine all that with me being lost and starving, and you'd find yourself a perfect little nightmare. I didn't mind it though. Even if I died there, I'd at least die as myself and not as some perfectly ordinary girl like everyone wanted me to be. It also gave me time to practice my magic.

One day, I woke up in this hut. I had no clue how I got there. I was met by these people in robes and hats, telling me how I was special. They called my magic a gift. When I left the hut, I found an entire community full of people just like me, people who wanted to use magic without people always judging. I was welcomed like I was their friend, so I decided to stay with this coven.

These guys weren't only magicians, but they also were worshipers of this weird god who supposedly was a master magician and also wanted to free humanity from the shackles they placed upon themselves. I thought that was something that the world seriously needed, so I joined in. In return for my loyalty, they taught me everything about magic. I picked it all up real quick so I became a real witch only a year after I wound up among them. They also taught me about the neighborhood, this place known as Gainesborough, filled with as many monsters as there are people. I fit perfectly with everyone.

The coven had me do some stuff, mostly scare off naysayers and show other kids like me magic. We also sometimes got these rare magic items that our god supposedly needed for some reason. One of those days, we learned that some detectives had just passed away, so we should share all their secrets with the world.
One of them turned out to be the very god we worshiped: Mimagaia, the master magician and destroyer. She immediately set about destroying the world and we all followed, thinking this was all going as planned.

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It didn't really surprise us that we were being bothered by this annoying brat who said she was a detective. I think her name was Harriet. Honestly, it just made us fight harder to protect what we won. We were everywhere getting people to wake up to their freedom, but...for some reason, it didn't work. Not because they were resisting, but more like they were scared of us. Even when we tried to teach them what we knew, it felt like we were more holding them hostage than anything.

Eventually, that detective Harriet got far enough that we had to worry about Mimagaia's own safety. I was among those devout enough to be near our god when that detective came to attack. I stood alongside magicians who had spent their entire lives perfecting their craft and ancient spirits who sided with the Great Witch in ages past. None of them stood a chance against that detective and her magic. Something she did just made it...impossible for them to hit her. Even Mimagaia couldn't hit her, and with that, we lost. Our god had her powers locked away and we just watched it happen. Some of the coven, they walked away. They thought it was over, and to be honest I couldn't blame them.

>On the Slow Transition
I can't really pin down when I started having my own worries about what Mimagaia really was about. It's just after her defeat that she started changing our goals overtly. She began staging riots against random neighborhoods, full-scale robberies. She said that it no longer mattered who got hurt because nobody mattered. She even began blowing places up as that seal started wearing off. Truth be told, I was getting a little scared. I joined this coven because I thought I was among friends, but with all this terrorism, I had to wonder what I was doing. Couldn't tell anyone that though, that'd mean I'd lose the only friends I had. If I didn't have them, there was no way I'd stand a chance of even escaping that detective Harriet.

Just like before, more great wizards and monsters came to fight alongside us. This time however, that detective had some help from a local cop. Together, they managed to stop us all again, but this time, I saw something strange. That detective's orb looked weird and shimmering, like it had taken one too many cracks. I heard Mimagaia comment how it would lead to the world being destroyed and if the detective didn't give her the orb, she'd find someone else to do it for her.

I think that was the point where I realized I was never among friends. I fell out of favor as I realized that I wasn't as cruel as those that remained. I did care if someone got hurt, and I wanted to continue getting people on our side. Shame nobody else did. Eventually, our god just...grabbed me and sent me to a hollowed out cave. Said she was sure Harriet would be there. Surprise surprise, she was. She lashed out on me immediately, and all I could think of was why she looked so worn out. I was glad I noticed that, because she was incredibly reckless with herself and her weapon. Before she could try breaking it on my face, Mimagaia stepped in my way and tried to pry the orb free.

As they struggled, I heard that detective shout on about it's all she had left and she can't lose anything else. Meanwhile, all my god wanted was to kill. Guess it was pretty easy to see why I betrayed my only family. I stalled Mimagaia long enough for Harriet to go get what she was here for what felt like forever, and when she came back, she looked like a new person. Together with some weird time-traveling weirdos, Mimagaia was gone for good, and I was...alone.

>How I Became Friends with a Detective
I guess it goes without saying that this one act of sudden betrayal didn't make us friends. My feelings were still a bit scrambled, she was still a bit too vengeful. We didn't really fit, and having a sudden demonic invasion didn't help us.

In the wake of losing my only family, I just wandered aimlessly. I still had my skills, but there wasn't much else I could do with them, so I decided to go into crime. Burglary, espionage, sabotage, you name it, I've probably had a contract for it. Wasn't long before I found myself under the Harriet Agency's crosshairs again.

She was about to arrest me during this one caper, I had just finished delivering some goods that may or may not have been illegal. She might have thought I had fallen back with the old crowd despite them having finally fallen apart. She tried to pin blame on me for something I had no idea about. In the end though, she handcuffed me and hauled me back into this run-down mansion and I remembered that I broke out an evil god right in their backyard. Talk about embarrassing.

Luckily for me, Miss Harriet, or as she introduced herself, Raina, had a proposition for me. She wouldn't turn me in if I helped her with the demons suddenly arriving all over the place. She even offered to let me stay if I accepted. Of course, I agreed, planning to cut loose the first opportunity I got, but demons and my overbearing detective had kept me locked into her strict and structured life. Strangely though, I didn't quite hate it this time around. I think part of it had to be me just reeling from losing the coven, but somewhere down the line, we also managed to have our own strange friendship. I found ways to help out with all my illicit contacts, she had a rational head on her shoulders and a fixed sense of right and wrong.

I think the whole "friends" thing really set in when we were facing off against the devil behind the invasion junk. That thing wanted to kill everything, but an old friend of ours just showed up and all we were gonna fight were two minions of the devil. Me and Raina teamed up, fighting against wild monsters shooting skulls and hellfire. It wasn't fun, we nearly lost arms and heads to them, but somehow, by some miracle, we made it.

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We had collapsed right next to each other as two demons literally fought to the death right next to us. We were both watching, too terrified to move. I noticed Raina's hands gripping onto my sleeves with everything she got. I clearly remember thinking 'I wanna live. I want us both to live, I'll do anything to just make it past this day with this person.' When I grabbed onto her, I pretty much sealed my relationship.

Since that day, I've found that my story and Raina's will pretty much cross up at any point they do. We've kept on working together in keeping Gainesborough safe from the next doomsday du jour, with my vast know-how of anything and her powers of deduction. She's also been a pain in my ass in trying to get me to hang up being a criminal and all. I mean, it's not like I'm going around just stealing things and roughing people up anymore! I'm doing a bunch of other things too! I teach kids, I do bargaining, I even do my own bit of vigilante gallivanting on a few nights. It's not like I'm strictly doing bad things all the time! It's all stuff I enjoy, so I don't see how I'm supposed to just stop it all. It's just who I am, and all I want to be is who I am.

>On the Future
I...honestly never think that far ahead. Distracts too much from the right now.

I mean, what do you expect me to say? That I wanna live until I'm an old lady? That I'll one day retire rich? Why would I wanna stop being me in the first place? I like where I am right now. I have a nice little shack, I can get whatever I want, I have someone who always has my back, and I can say I have friends without having to worry that they're gonna sell me out whenever it's convenient.

If it's about Raina, then I hope she gets to live to an old age too. Ever since we met as kids, I think we knew we'd be seeing each other around a lot. Because of that, we've had a lot of chances to get close and understand each other a little better.

She's a hardass because that's who she is, and nothing I've done has changed that. I kinda admire that in the same way she admires how I've used my criminal background for good causes. I'm sure that as time goes on, we'll be better friends. Honestly, that's the only thing I'd want to look forward to.

>About the Author
>>Name?
Marley J. Karlsson. All self-picked.
>>Age?
20. I'm actually five months older than Raina, much as she tries to insist otherwise.
>>Occupation?
Thief, merchant, aspiring professor, magician...wait, pick one? Well what if I can't?
>>Interests?
Rare magical antiques and books. Got tons of 'em back home, but it's never enough. Seriously, look at my house one day. To the gills and everything!
>>Dislikes?
Guess you can tell, but I hate being tied down and being told what to do. Always have, always will be.
>>What are things you look for in a person?
Let's see, I have a list...wallet size, gullibility, magical aptitude, personality, likelihood of them dragging me down... There's more, but we'd be here all day.
>>Are you looking for a man or a woman?
Can't really say I care which way. I found committed relationships a drag. If I had to pick though...well, I have someone I've known whom I'd like to settle down with one of these days...
>>What's your deepest darkest secret?
Well...you know this sidetail of mine? Yeah, can't do it on my own. I have to use magic to do it all. What? It's embarrassing to have something I can't do!
>>What are your hopes for the future?
Just that things stay the way they are. Nothing big, I know, but it means a lot to me.
>>Any final words?
If you're ever looking for someone to do a job for you, no matter how off-the-books, Marley Karlsson's your guy!

Suddenly three of the lights detached themselves from their ambling and made a beeline straight towards him. If it had been any other day, Bohemond would have made an attempt to defend himself. Instead he stared dumbly at the trio of lights flitting in front of his face. Presently he could make out the glimmering shapes of three tiny bodies, seemingly radiating a soft glow of light.

Even as he watched, one of them changed into a knight, stern and alert. Bohemond could almost make out the barding. Another one changed into a tree-like creature, like the norscans who had attacked him. The third ran -or flew- in lazy circles around them.

The two tiny combatants charged at each other, the knight's lance at full tilt and the tree's branches outstretched. Right when they were about to meet, the minature horseman jumped with his steed, sailing clear of the tree monster and hitting it squarely in the chest with the lance.

It was a superb example of horsemanship, and Bohemond clapped excitedly. It was as good as a tourney in Couronne. The discordant sound of his clapping felt loud and boorish in such a delicately ethereal place. The three lights drew away from him, as though afraid.

Bohemond wondered if he had done something wrong when the door opened. Door was perhaps the wrong word. A large hole in the bark, enough for a person to pass through had been covered with green creepers. In his awed state, Bohemond hadn't paid any attention to it.
Now the rustling leaves made him sit up and take notice. A tall warrior, lithe and clad in curious armor entered the room. He wore no helmet and carried a shield on one arm, and a spear on another. Even from a distance Bohemond could see that the spear was a work of master craftsmen. No bretonnian billhook or imperial halberd could look so beautiful - or so deadly.

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the warrior who held it was a sight to match. If Bohemond could use a word to describe him, it would have been perfect. The warrior had all the poise of a cat, and his face looked like it had been chiselled by the finest artisans. Every line of his face, every feature, was perfect. The only thing that was wrong was his eyes. They were the color of his hair, a color best described as wild honey.

Bohemond didn't need to know the shape of the warrior's ears to know what he was. He was in Athel Loren, for reasons unknown he was not dead yet, but if the stories about the faerie folk were true, he was not safe at all.

He debated asking the elf about anything - where he was, who he was, or what was going to happen to him, but the elf spoke first. "Human, you are bid to lie down while the healers come in to bring you sustenance and tend to your wounds." The words were spoken flawlessly, but in a way that conveyed distaste with every syllable. Bohemond wanted to ask something when a two elves entered after them. They were female, wore long flowing robes that lent the appearance of them gliding into view.
Bohemond wondered if they could fly. Stranger things had happened. He was gracious enough to thank them for the food - a bowl of berries. A pair of beautiful faces looked at him in a puzzled manner that quickly turned into amusement when the warrior translated. Bohemond followed their every command, careful not to move too suddenly. A wrong move could make him very dead very quickly.

Their examination of him finished, they bid him a farewell while the warrior looked at him with some distaste. All alone Bohemond turned his attention to the food and ate heartily before sleeping again.
Maybe they were just fattening him up for some sacrifice, but right now he didn't have a care in the world. He wondered if this was due to his still groggy condition as he slowly drifted off into sleep.

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you have to wonder how many dragons that guy has slain to look THAT bored.

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maybe he expected more

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Cool 2hu story man, almost didn't catch those references. A pretty well written reinterpretation.

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Wow, page 10.

drive.google.com/file/d/0B_fAtj0aadzVYTI0RDlFSGxNMnM/view?usp=sharing

Hey Veeky Forums I've been working on this for a while, been talking to an agent who tells me to keep writing. I wanna share this with you guys and see if anyone enjoys it.
Editing is disabled but comments are enabled.

There was a severe lack of Cultist smut
So I made some
pastebin.com/e6mk3uk2

Tags
m/f, f/f, bdsm, HERESY, vague incestual subtext, HERESY, femdom, breeding, mild homoeroticism
Cultist Chan original character by Mr.Culexus

Just so its on record that this is thread related
The story is based on a campaign I ran in a homebrew setting that was partially created here on Veeky Forums
Its my baby. So beat it.

>mild homoeroticism
gay

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Its a cultist chan smut. If there's not bits mashing up against every other kind of bit I would be disappointed.
I AM disappointed that floor tiles were not involved

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writefag here
The sequel will involve floor tiles

nice

Having finally got around to updating the wiki, I just want to say that I thought this (pic related) was a neat little story that was unfairly neglected. As with the best stories of this type, you can take it to mean that either she's surrounded by demons, or she's mentally ill.


Also, regarding the story 'Sadasako's Eternity', I remember the story it's a sequel to but I can't for the life of me remember that story's name. If the author is around could you remind me so I can put a note on the wiki that they're related. Oh, and I thought Sadasako's Eternity was very well-written

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Ok. I'm finishing page 01 and my biggest concern is that the imagery doesn't pop. Like...

"The small village was full of the daily labors that always seemed to never get done.The methodical ringing of metal on metal of the smithy and the rhythmic sound of iron saws on wood permeated the air mixed with the sounds of people and their animals."

That could be:

The village was small, no bigger than a shout across, and it was filled now with the sounds of daily labor. It was a bustling organism of early morning life, it's heartbeat the methodical ring of metal against metal in the smithy, it's breath the growl of iron sawing through wild oak."

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I feel like there's a middle ground to be found there. Maybe his prose could use a little spicing up, but not too much. After all, the village isn't supposed to be exciting. It's supposed to be homely and mundane.

Maybe something like
The small village was filled a chorus of sounds drifting through the lazy summer air. The baritone lowing of the cattle being led to pasture blended with the percussive ring of metal on metal coming from the smithy, and the rasps of the woodcutters' saws undercut the whole performance with their metronome-regular beats. Always the same score, played out day after day with minor variations, and each performer knew their part and their instruments well.

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I think at this point we're discussing style, aren't we? That's really up to user and what he's trying to convey. Either way, I feel like the prose could be more vivid.

Maybe. I mean, to a certain extent it's all style. I just thought I'd throw in my two cents. To be honest it was 4:30am and I just wanted to bump the thread before I went to bed.

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Jeffrey breathed heavily. Half from fear of his life, half from being aroused. It's not every day you have a succubus face to face, so close you can smell her pleasing scent. Jeffrey could see down her tight bodice.

"Now Jeffrey, I have asked you nicely before to stop." Jeffrey nodded. He was tall and lanky with thick lensed glasses and pants to short for him, stopping at his ankles.

"So Jeffrey, forgive me IF I GET PISSED EVERY FUCKING TIME YOU FUCKING SUMMON ME!" She growled as her hand pressed against the wall beside him cracking it with her ungodly strength.

Jeffrey swallowed. "I-I can't help it! I get lonely and you're my only friend."

"I've told you before I'm not your friend! I am a soul sucking demon." She said

"B-but I-I thought succu-"

"Succubus were what?" she interrupted

"Your HUMANS SEX SLAVES!? THAT'S JUST A MYTH JEFFREY, SUCCUBUS ARE NOT SEMEN DEMONS OR WHATEVER YOUR VIDEO GAMES HAVE TOLD YOU, WE EAT SOULS! AND IF I KEEP GETTING SUMMONED BY A RED HEADED LOSER WITH NO SOUL I'LL STARVE AND FUCKING DIE JEFFREY!" She was so angry she was shaking him.

She gripped him by the collar and threw him hard to the ground. "GIVE IT TO ME!" She demanded.

"Okay!" Jeffrey started unzipping his pants. She stepped forward crushing his hands and crotch beneath her heels. " I meant the cross, you idiot." She said trying to remain calm, avoiding another outburst.

Jeffrey sighed, pulled his hands free from her heels and felt in his pockets for it. After a moments hesistation he pulled out what seemed to be a very plain iron cross with simple engravings embedded into it.

She swiped it out of his hands and crushed the metal piece in her grip. The scrapped metal lit up in purple flames with little droplets of purple falling to the ground.

"Next time you summon me, I'll kill you. I don't know how you keep managing to do it but I'll put an end to it." When she finished speaking she burst into purple flames herself and disappeared.

(1/2)

Jeffrey got up from the floor, sighed and dusted off his short pants and zipped them up. He pulled out his phone and went to YouTube. "How to summon a succubus who isn't a bitch."

(2/2)

Feedback please. Hateful comments welcome too.

I don't know why but this is the second time posting in one of these threads and again it's about a loser and a succubus. Im no psychologist but I think I may see a pattern.

Well, your writing is clear an concise, your sentence structure is well formed. Your characters are distinct and seem vivid and well-personified. And your subject matter... um, maybe try branching out next time?

In all honesty, I got a decent kek from it. Good work, user, keep it up.

user I like the part about the the fireflies lancing. Can you please continue your story?

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"You came."

The unholy knight presents himself to the old priest, the air around him radiating with dark energies. "You know why I am here."

"Then you know that my duty is to the Jade Commandment." The priest slowly rises, his weight supported by his cane. "It cannot fall." He motions to the massive jade slab behind him.

The knight's stance widens. A spiked shield bearing the face of a snarling demon is raised. "You would risk your life over this false belief? For a useless rock supposedly made by invisible men?"

The priest's hands shift on the cane, treating it more like a staff. "I am not so simple as to just take this as the truth. Humanity needs something to believe in, and great beings that made a this rock is much easier to believe in than just a rock."

"You would say that despite knowing what truly lies beyond this world? You know as well as I do that only demons exist. Gods are but fantasy." The knight's eyes burned as he uttered these words, glowing with the power of hellfire. "They demand absolute loyalty from mankind, and this rock is getting in the way."

"Then I must insist that I cannot budge." It is only now that the priest's stance becomes ready for battle, tensing in anticipation. "I have staked man's future on the Commandment, and I will not let it fall so long as I live."

It is now that the knight's unholy powers begin their crescendo, foul energy thrumming within his polearm and quickening with each second. "Then so be it. They cannot let such defiance stand."

"The Commandment is all we have. You will not deprive it from us."

Only one last remark leaves the knight's mouth before throwing himself into the battle. "Good. I look forward to prying it from your cold, dead hands."

Bump

>background music: youtube.com/watch?v=uyp6c0GZddI

It is a friday evening and on a terrace area of an office building in downtown where three upper-class co-workers. Philip Sharp, a manager in the fourth floor area who is easily noticable and identified with his "signature" red suit that he liked to wear on either fridays, holidays, or when in a good mood. Manuel Hanson, the geek or nerd and generally the "smart guy" of the group, if any of his friends and closer associates need a certain and or specific problem fixed he's the guy who could help, plus has thick rimmed glasses that reinforce his stereotypical nerd feature. And also Shmul Rosenzweig, a good and even close friend of Manuel and Philip, is a foreigner from Grestin who recently earned citizenship for Bronia, the very country the three friends are in and living now. And jokingly, Shmul is the "Token Black Guy" of his tight nit group of friends, a title which earns sarcastic remarks from Mr. Rosenzweig. And in this pleasant enough friday evening they are just about to leave the office soon as they've already clocked out earlier, but decided to have some small talk and minor chit-chat.

"Another pleasant friday evening eh boys?" Philip said as he stretched his arms briefly before putting them down and having his arms on his back. "Any specific plans today? Hang outs? A short toad trip? Hitting the bar? Or just staying at home and revel at being single with no nagging spouse to be heard of?"

"Most definitely stayin at home mang." Said Manuel as he breath the evening air in and adjusted his glasses.

"And vhat to do all zaturday and zunday mein Manny? Vatch and fap to porn? Fiddle around vith those expensive plastic miniature dolls of yourz? Vatch more of your favortie cartoonz? Or more video gamez to rot your mind?" Said Shmul Rosenzwieg

“Oh hardy-har-har Shmu! And no, I’m actually gonna be teaching a neighbor-next-door’s daughter how to play a clarinet!” Said Manuel Hanson

(Based off my earlier stories for "The Price")

"It's not 'Thou Shalt Not Kill', it's 'Thou Shalt Not Murder'."

"There's a big fucking difference, I've learned."

"Murder is when you go out and hunt someone down to kill them for no other reason than your own personal gain. That's a dread sin. Heard it straight from a Seraphim myself."

"Now, killing someone who's trying to murder you? Different story."

"I... should start at the beginning."

"I had just learned my first two spells. Telekinesis and Heal. Move stuff around. Heal cuts, burns, broken bones. Awesome, right?"

"Spells are learned by studying runes until your head... sparks. I can't really *define* what it feels like, maybe an 'aha' moment. Long story short, study a spell with a lightbulb nearby. If it flickers, you've learned the spell. Some people find entire spellbooks. I found enough pages from two entirely separate books to learn two spells, and that... well, let's just say that was enough to get me into the clubhouse. It's a lot more complex."

"Anyway."

"Telekinesis you can practice by moving heavier things. Heavier the object, the more mana you burn, but eventually you can move heavier objects faster with less mana."

"Healing... I could cut myself open and heal myself over and over, but that just sounded... stupid. And likely to get me sent to a psyche ward if my parents found out."

"So I volunteered at a hospital. No, it's not an original idea... and it turns out, it's not a smart one, either."

"Oh, sure, it worked great for a while. Heal discretely, and I get to practice my spell and the four year old girl -caught in a crossfire between a convenience store robber and three cops who shoot everything that moves- gets to go home minus the three new holes she came in with."

"Then one day, a guy walks into the hospital while I'm sweeping, and asks for me by name."

"Then he pulls out a gun and starts shooting."

"I ran. Wasn't like I am now, I was scared out of my mind, panicking."

"He got between me and the exit, and just kept firing and reloading, not caring who he hit. He shot a nurse, a doctor, a patient, then said that every death was on me."

"I didn't know who that guy was then."

"I don't know how I decided to fight back. Maybe it was me being a kid, having a hero complex. Maybe it was him killing people and blaming me. Maybe it was being able to lift 300 lbs. with my mind and realizing I could really hurt someone."

"I Darth Vadered the son of a bitch and threw him into a wall. Then I threw chairs, trash cans, trays, scalpels, everything I could at him."

"I don't know just how much punishment someone can take before they just finally, drop, but every time I thought he'd finally die, he got back up. I finally threw a fire extinguisher as hard as I could with what mana I had left at his head."

"It was like a bobblehead, the way his broken neck wiggled his head around."

"I just ran after that."

"Fortunately, the Templars found me."

"I want you to understand: by their own admission, that's typically not something a magus says. Ever."

"Turns out the guy was from a society. No, not the Illuminati- they're nuts, but they're not assholes. This society... I'm not going to tell you their name. It'd be like sentencing you to die."

"Long story short, they enforce 'No Good Deed Goes Unpunished' as a religion. Assholes, every last one."

"You've probably heard the same sob story dozens of times. It wasn't safe for me to stay with my family. It wasn't safe for them to even remember me."

"I healed people for free and it cost me my life."

"I can't get my old life back. Prom? Graduation? College? That ship sailed."

"What I can do is make sure that whoever sent that assassin regrets it for the rest of their very short, miserable lives."

"Don't get all misty-eyed on me, son. You'll hear plenty of those stories. It's the price we pay."

...

...

yeah, I was working on my visa appointment. I will continue soon.