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Post by Thorn on Feb 8, 2019 18:48:13 GMT -5
So today I designed my weirdest possible-future D&D character to date. A combination of the official video for the song 'Ghost' by Ella Henderson, a homebrew warlock ghost patron I found, and the Haunted One background, gave me the following character... -Zariel tiefling (okay, cool, good so far.) -Who used to be a scourge aasimar, before a Reincarnate spell (yeah, I'm following.) -His patron is the ghost of a dead aasimar (coincidence, or-?) -The same dead aasimar (um, okay?) -Reincarnate got botched and now this one soul may be split in two or some such (I mean I'm following, but-) -He is his own patron (THORN STOP BEING RIDICULOUS.) Anyway, I wrote a test piece with the pair of them, in the same scenario I tested Laurel with back in October. Here it is! “Gwyn. Look there. Right hand corner.”
He looked.
“Other right hand corner, Gwyn.”
He turned in his chair. “Ah, yes. I see.”
“Very smooth.”
“Three empty tankards. Wow. Is no-one gonna collect ‘em?”
“Stop actin’ foolish.”
Gwyn sniffed, wiping his greasy hands on his robe. Keeping his voice low, he addressed the barely perceptible Gwyndolin, shimmering faintly in the corner of his vision.
“I know, I know. Dodgy lookin’ guy, dark hooded robes, alone in the corner, the works. Gwyndolin, I’m a dodgy lookin’ guy too. Looks ain’t everythin’. Whaddaya want me to do?”
She didn’t answer for a moment.
“Just be careful. I don’t want you to-”
“I know,” he interrupted quickly. “I promised. We’ll finish this together.”
Again, a moment's silence.
“I sound like her,” the ghost murmured at length.
“Elysiel?” Gwyn sighed. “Guess so.”
“I miss her.”
“I know. Me too. We’ll find her again.”
“It’s just sometimes...you know.”
“Yeah. I know. But for now, let's worry less about weird lookin' guys in corners, and more about how we're gonna pay our bill." (it's actually a coincidence they ended up with the same name as my fave Dark Souls npc, but a happy one.) (for those of you who understand d&d lingo, and specifically aasimar, Elysiel was Gwyndolin's angelic guide.) |
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Post by Thorn on Feb 9, 2019 8:37:35 GMT -5
Second day posting in a row! My friend sent me timeskip stuff for one of his d&d characters (that group just had a two-month timeskip), and it inspired me to write out a major backstory event for Izazdin which I couldn't get to sit quite right in my mind. I think it worked, I definitely made progress! It was interesting to write Zazz being threatening/intimidating instead of just awkward and infatuated. ...until halfway through the writing exercise, where he totally lost track of his persona, and I'll share that bit here. (He goes a tiny bit Viago, I adore it.) |
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Post by Thorn on Feb 10, 2019 20:28:52 GMT -5
(D&D Characters AGAIN.) I skipped one day at least? Today it's Ursh's turn to get written about. I wanted to consider how their new totally-not-evil horse would relate to their animal companion, and to Ursh themself. Especially since there's been a two-month timeskip in-game! Ursh (lawful half-orc), Floral (ghost weasel), and Norix (demonic horse)“A few months ago, Andry gave me a ring and told me to never take it off. Did I accidentally marry Andry?”
Their thoughts were interrupted by a loud hiss from Floral, crouched at their side. Several feet beyond the shrine stood Norix, eyes blazing. With his craggy jaws slightly parted, the inside of his mouth reminded Ursh of a furnace.
Floral hissed again.
“Floral, be nice,” Ursh sighed, rising stiffly to their feet. “Norix is our new friend, and he can’t be here very often, so we have to be nice. Let him make the most of it. Isn’t that right, Norix?”
Ursh hadn’t known horses could growl, but Norix seemed to do it a lot. To be fair, he very clearly wasn’t an ordinary horse. And it couldn’t be nice, being stuck as a statue most of your life. Ursh would be grumpy in that position, too! Especially if weird-looking humanoids kept asking them stupid questions.
“I’m sorry, Norix. Where were you going? We won’t stop you. But please be careful. I don’t want people getting mad at you if something catches fire.”
Floral shrilled a warning. Ursh winced.
“Floral! I swear, you’re sleeping outside. Stop it. Go and, I don’t know, see what Andry’s up to. Or anyone else. Just stop being mean to poor Norix, what has he ever done to you?”
Floral chittered disconsolately, but moved up to the shrine and stayed there. Norix whickered and bobbed his head up and down. Ursh froze.
“Can you, um, understand me? Understand what I’m saying, I mean? Nod again for yes.”
He bobbed his head. After all this time focussing on their tone, their gestures, their posture...could he really understand Common? Ursh wondered if he’d learned it from the zombie-dragon, or from some other former master.
“I feel like an idiot if that’s true. Um. Okay, okay. We’ve got this. If you nod once for yes, twice for no? Or, wait, just shake your head for no. Yeah.”
Norix nodded.
“Alright! Are you in Itora?”
Norix did nothing.
“This continent. It’s called Itora.”
Norix nodded.
“Perfect! Um. Okay, am I a hedgehog?”
Norix nodded.
“Oh. Okay, maybe...maybe you can’t...”
The horse shook his head.
“I’m not a hedgehog? You were just teasing me?”
The horse nodded.
Ursh moved in closer, holding out a daisy chain towards their new friend. What had its previous masters been like? Had Norix been abandoned, tossed aside, stolen, traded, neglected, or otherwise abused? It seemed likely, judging from that zombie-dragon alone. Was Ursh, perhaps, going to be the first positive influence in Norix’s life?
They would have to try their hardest.
“Would you like one of these? I make them sometimes for my mother’s shrine. I mean...you might burn it, but that’s fine. If you want to, that’s fine.”
Norix just stared down at them for several moments. So close to the creature now, and seeing him standing in the sunlight for the first time, Ursh was admittedly a little perturbed. Norix looked like he was made of ash, his head a shrieking skull, charred and cracked. The fire around his hooves flared. He was actually pretty terrifying, Norix, and people were so quick to judge. Ursh could understand why he might be a bit grumpy.
They fought to hold his gaze. It would be rude to look away when they were supposed to be having a Special Bonding Moment, but his gaze burned so fiercely it felt like their brain was on fire, which was not exactly a pleasant sensation. Finally, Norix snorted and took the daisy chain delicately in his jagged jaws.
Ursh blinked hard. “You like it?”
He drew the chain of small blooms into his mouth, chewed, and let the remnants fall to the ground. Norix looked at Ursh again, as though challenging them to make a move. Wait, was he? Was he being deliberately contrary? Was he just like that? Or did he not trust Ursh because of the terrible people who’d previously summoned him? Had they made him bitter and spiteful, or was it just his nature?
How were they supposed to tell?
Floral growled again and, at last, the horse trotted off with a flip of its crackling mane. Ursh looked down at their companion.
“I don’t know what to make of that, Floral.”
The weasel reared up to paw at their hand, whining sadly.
“Look, okay. He’ll come around. We just have to be patient. It’s a big change for everyone! I know, how about we look for some nice soup-herbs? Just the two of us. We’ll give Norix some time alone.” |
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Post by Thorn on Feb 25, 2019 6:33:54 GMT -5
So a piece of my microfic got rejected. Since it was written specifically for a 'Comedy' prompt in a microfiction magazine, I'm not sure where else I could submit it, realistically. I'll just post it here instead! “So was that a tragedy or a comedy?”
“A tragedy,” Othello replied immediately, “because he lost his faith, all his possessions, and even his own daughter.”
Desdemona adjusted her shawl. “But Shylock was a bad person. Everyone else was happy in the end.”
“Mmm.”
She leaned into him. “What about us? Comedy or tragedy?”
“Well it’s a comedy so long as there’s a happy ending, right?”
“And usually a marriage.”
He stroked her hair. “We’re getting married tonight, so...”
“I guess that settles it,” she grinned across the room at their faithful lookout. “What do you think, honest Iago?” It was shortlisted and apparently went through several rounds of reading. This does make me happy, but it also makes me wonder if it could have been accepted if I hadn't screwed up the deadline- I thought the deadline was the 31st of January, so I submitted it then. The deadline was actually February 15th. If I'd had that extra couple weeks, could I have made it good enough to be featured? Guess I'll never know! |
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Post by Moni on Feb 25, 2019 15:36:55 GMT -5
this microfic made me laugh more than was necessary
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Post by Thorn on Feb 25, 2019 18:17:19 GMT -5
I'm glad you were able to find actual comedy in this piece! xD With comparison to how the play they come from actually goes...yeah, this is pretty hilarious.
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Post by Thorn on Mar 1, 2019 13:22:30 GMT -5
Do you guys remember when I used to post relevant, NTWF stuff here? Yeah, neither do I. I periodically write for Zazz so that I don't forget what the character is like, since I play him so infrequently and he's a lot trickier for me to keep in mind than Ursh (at worst, I won't be playing him again for another two months, when I'll be staying with Rio's roleplayer and we agreed we'd do a session via Skype. And it's already been three months since the last time I played him. His party is more of an occasional side adventure to the main party this group plays.) Today I wrote a journal piece set shortly after the party embarked on their voyage to '''rescue''' some citizens of the kingdom of Arcadia. Celes expressed an interest in reading it so, after a quick edit to remove some Bad Language and Overly Suggestive Wording, I decided I'd chuck this where all my rambling goes to die...in my writing thread. (probably at least partly inspired by the wonderful diary entries of Team EuroAtlantis! <3 Zazz was keeping a diary in-character, but I think it's those ones which gave me the idea of actually writing out an entry.) (The following is primarily in Undercommon.)
Dear Diary,
So most of these people are pretty boring. There are a bunch of humans who just talk about sailor stuff (and not even the INTERESTING sailor stuff!) There’s a young apprentice wizard called Valen who seems cool, he shares my innate love of adventure and seems like a good kid. His master is called Carla and it’s still a bit strange encountering a female master wizard, but she’s really embraced that identity, and good for her. The way she teaches him is a bit different from how I was taught, and I’m not sure how effective it actually is, because I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen Valen do magic? Maybe it’s like that one about the monks where they make the students carry heavy buckets of water up a hill and do all those push-ups and crap before moving on to the cool stuff? Maybe he’s doing push-ups with his brain? Reading a lot in their cabin, perhaps. Anyway, Carla has lovely robes, and surprisingly they make me miss mine, which is weird because I really shouldn’t. They were heavy and so bloody hot, but they just looked so good! People aren’t going to be as impressed by a wizard wearing non-wizardly attire. Not that I realistically could wear them, but sometimes you find adventurers selling wizard robes in the drow style which they got from, I guess, people they killed?
Last week I encountered some doing just that. I acted super impressed: “Those are really nice! Great condition, not a lot of blood, how did you kill him?” I thought it was a well-presented question. They went a bit funny and so I told them my father was a high-elf who raised me on the surface. I leaned more heavily on an Arcadian accent and my stature goes without saying, so I think they bought it. Whatever the case they let me look, and as far as I could tell the robes didn’t belong to anyone I knew. I wished them a good day and left.
So I almost forgot to mention Rio! Rio’s a halfling, he’s pretty cool. He likes painting- mostly tortoises, because he really likes tortoises. I’m not entirely sure what’s so great about them, but I’ll always be a spider guy myself, regardless of traditional associations. So I’m no judge. I think Rio and I will be really good friends though, unlike someone else I’m less certain about.
He’s a sea elf. He’s got these cool projectile weapons called guns, which I’ve heard about but never really seen. This seemed an excellent chance to get closer and check them out! They look to require less physical effort than a bow, but I think I’d be more intimidated by a huge pointy arrow directed at my face than a metal cylinder. He asked me to fetch some things for him, and that was promising (River helped with that, I’ll write about River later.) His name is C Elf and we talked about that- apparently the humans who raised him were massive jerks- and I suggested he should change his name to ‘Self’. Because your sense of self is pretty much the most important thing and what better, more affirming statement could there be to remind yourself and others who you are? Okay, so maybe that’s not his thing, but he didn’t need to be so rude about it. Mr C gave me a cool thing though! It’s sort of like a gun, but you can fire it into things and then there’s a rope attached to the projectile, which you can climb up. Other than that, things are off to a tense start. It’s probably because he’s a surface elf and I’m from the Underdark. Or maybe he’s jealous because he had such a harsh upbringing. Maybe both? I still think he’d feel better if he changed his name.
Now as promised, I’ll write about River! I have officially saved the best for last because, as amiable as Rio is, he doesn’t wield a giant sword taller than I am, which I probably couldn’t even lift. River’s bicep is the size of my thigh! River could totally crush me and I don’t know why that’s so hot but apparently I’m into that now? Gods, the things I want to ask of him.
But I’m so much better than that. I have class! I really wish I didn’t sometimes but River deserves to be properly courted. He deserves to be showered with lovely things, like compliments and flowers, if he likes flowers. I don’t really know what he likes, but I have time to sort that out. We have to rescue those people, and then we have to get back to Arcadia, where we’ll finally get paid. Hopefully then I can afford to take him out somewhere nice, if he wants that. He’s difficult to read and maybe drow, or men, or both, aren’t his thing. I don’t know. I should probably just ask him but last time we spoke he called me ‘pretty’ and I forgot how to think. Which is a terrifying new level of socially inept on my end.
Oh and also River’s probably a water genasi. Forgot to mention that. So there are lots of humans, a halfling, a sea elf, a drow, and a genasi. There’s a dwarf too, but he’s about as interesting as those human sailors. I’m not exactly blending in here, but humans don’t usually like the drow, so I should be okay. They wouldn’t be working together. Why would they? They’re always killing each other. Humans raid our academies and temples and murder indiscriminately, and then drow retaliate and kill or sacrifice a bunch of them, and it’s not exactly a recipe for cooperation. Maybe they’ve even given up, or maybe they’re dead, and I really don’t know which I’d prefer. If they’re dead, would anyone else remember? I miss it so much, and this stupid blinding ocean only makes me miss it more. I don’t think I’d go back forever but, in an ideal world, I’d like to visit the Underdark sometimes. But they hate everything to do with the surface and even if I hadn’t totally screwed up, I wouldn’t be able to have a foot in both worlds. Maybe that’s the issue, although nobody gets to have everything. Having moved abroad, I can now better empathise with a character who misses home, although thankfully New Zealand is a billion times less problematic than the Underdark. =P |
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Post by Thorn on Apr 10, 2019 6:46:51 GMT -5
Feeling cute, might extend this later. (I was editing some Zazz backstory, and joked to Liou that I never really feel like writing backstory for Ursh...then I realised what an adorable tiny child they would have been and was suddenly inspired.) (Sweet natured little grey half-orc with the biggest blue eyes. Why did I not write this sooner?) (Zazz was probably a cute kid too, but I imagine he was too busy fighting with other kids for that to come across.) “Duckly.”
“Yes Urshmek, this is a duckling.”
The voice, as always, rustled like wind through the surrounding trees. Unbothered by this, Ursh crouched barefoot in the leaf litter, legs caked in mud and hands cupped around a tiny fluffy cheeping bundle.
“Dugglin,” the child tried again, still staring at the tiny creature. “Duggleiii.”
“Open your mouth more, child.”
Ursh had a full set of teeth now, including the tusks, although those wouldn’t grow large and strong until the child was much older. In response to a distant commotion of approaching Mother Duck, Ursh set the baby down in the leaves and moved away.
“Duckling. Baby duckling.”
“Very good, Urshmek.” EDIT: Zazz gets one too, anyway. He is Less Adorable. "My dad is a famous wizard and my mum is favored by Lolth. Your dad is a stinky mushroom farmer!"
"They're not stinky mushrooms," he whined. "They're really good mushrooms!"
"And your granddad was a gross drider!"
"Was not!"
"Was too! Everyone knows, he was a big stupid and he- ach!"
The offended party had seized Zazz by the collar and swung a punch into his face, but the other headbutted him and they both staggered back, clutching their heads.
"When I grow up I'll have 26 kids and they'll all hate you," Zazz snarled. "And I'll still hate you as well!"
"I'll have twenty-seven and they'll hate your whole family!" the other drow spat.
"Garghhhh!"
Several meters away, two men paused in the middle of counting coins. One of them seemed totally resigned to this series of events, and to the gathering crowd of children egging the two on. The second was visibly appalled.
"Who is that awful child?"
"Mistress Vrinelle's son," his companion sighed. "He turns up sometimes to yell at the other kids. Usually this one. He's pretty harmless, can't throw a punch to save his life."
"Ah. So you just need more quills, right?"
"Yeah," he glanced back at the children, to see Zazz now kicking the other boy. "Okay. Yeah, I'm going to break this up. Wish me luck."
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Post by Thorn on Apr 21, 2019 19:48:59 GMT -5
PFA: *suggests a writing prompt about a character on a date* Me, working on Ursh's HeroForge mini: Yeah, okay! Ursh and Gulgg (post-Demograug)“Where have you been?”
Gulgg stood there with her dark hair all windswept, mace in one hand, the other pressed to her forehead. She was scowling. Ursh decided against trying to hug her just yet.
“We were fighting a dracolich,” they said. “It’s dead. Well, dead again.”
“Hmm,” her scowl deepened. “Guess I can’t be mad at you.”
Andry and Floral had gone on ahead to the Tyrant. Ursh wanted to be there with them, but Gulgg looked unhappy. She was clearly frustrated, and her head seemed to hurt. Maybe she’d been fighting or debating again? Ursh moved towards her.
“What’s wrong, Gulgg?”
She exhaled forcefully, ruffling their sleeve.
“That simpering human diplomat. His club may be for show but he can still give me a mighty headache.”
‘Ah,” they hesitated, frowning slightly. “What did he do?”
“We need funds for housing,” she said. “He won’t give us those funds.”
“Ah.”
“I’m tired of humans and their senseless politics.”
A moment passed. Ursh wondered if that moment was as awkward for Gulgg as it was for them. They stepped forward and took her free hand in theirs.
“Gulgg, while we struggled with that dracolich I was thinking of you.”
She blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you mean a lot to me. There was this lute player here the other day. He was brilliant. He explained the concept of a ‘date night’. I think we should do that.”
“I know what a ‘date night’ is,” Gulgg fastened her mace to her hip and clasped Ursh’s other hand. “I don’t know if it will improve my mood, but you’re welcome to try.”
**
The tavern reminded Ursh of the Dead Tyrant’s common area. Only it wasn’t the Dead Tyrant, because you should never take somebody on a date night to your own workplace (as the nice musician had helpfully explained)- even if the piano was finally working properly, thanks to Aurora.
They didn’t exactly clean up well- people didn't often compliment Ursh’s appearance, and that was okay! Gulgg looked gorgeous with her sleek dark hair falling about her shoulders and flowing over her navy blue dress. Ursh had never seen an orc wear a dress before. Gulgg said it was a gift from a local politician, and that she didn’t wear it often but tonight seemed as good a time as any. Whatever the case, it was a lovely colour and it contrasted so nicely with the green of her skin.
Her eyes were lovely too- deep brown and touched with gold by the candlelight. She had the kind of tusks Ursh could only dream of- long and broad, jutting out well above the soft curve of her lips. Ursh had long ago accepted the fact that they would never be able to kiss Gulgg the same way they did their boyfriends, but there were so many ways to use those tusks, and that was exciting in itself.
“Ursh?” her voice was soft.
“Yeah?”
“The soup is good here.”
Ursh gave up on trying to decipher the scrawl of a menu. “Yeah, okay. Do you want to share a soup with me?”
“That wouldn’t be enough for either of us.”
“Yeah,” they bit their lip. “Okay. Could we get a really big soup and share that?”
“The bowls are all the same size.”
“Right. Makes sense,” they shrugged. “Yeah. Okay.”
She took one of their hands oh so smoothly. “This obviously means a lot to you. Lets get some bread with the soup and share that.”
“That’s a good idea. Afterwards, can we look for hedgehogs again?”
She smiled. It was one of those very warm, slightly lopsided smiles that Ursh liked most.
“Of course. There should be plenty of hedgehogs after all the rain. After we find them, I'll stay with you the whole night if you'll have me.”
Ursh wasn’t quite sure what to do with their face, so they nodded and kissed her hand, nuzzling one tusk into the groove of Gulgg’s palm.
“I would like that very, very much.”
Who is Gulgg?
-Pronounced mostly like 'gold', with a g instead of a d.
-Orcish ambassador from Orcland (blame my brother for this stupid city name. Blame me for the stupid NPC name.)
-One of Ursh's baes.
-Has been teaching Ursh to read and write!
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Post by Thorn on Jun 1, 2019 6:09:11 GMT -5
So two years ago for NaNo, I wrote the first full draft of my main project. It's about a robot technician (basically a robodoctor!) who gets dragged away from her nice quiet skyvillage by a dragon-riding human woman (who is also a cyborg!) Basically, I am not very good at finishing long projects because I get distracted by other ideas I like- so I mashed a bunch of ideas I loved together and ended up with that thing. It is hilariously self-indulgent but who cares? Anyway I want to redraft it for NaNo this year (well, in the spirit of the event- obviously I can't officially participate with an existing project), and hopefully get back to working on it a bit more seriously after that as well. Today, with NaNo five months out, I decided to refresh my memory on these characters! I wrote a small piece outside of the main story to explore their dynamic and make sure I can still write it proper. It has been snowing here lots today. I wrote Mari in the snow and then threw Cal at her. (usually Cal is a lot meaner than this.) (the end.) ... (oh and solar panel is a placeholder name since they're not really panels. They fold a lot. She is a tiny transformer. We'll work something out.) All four of my solar panels were fully extended. Cal told me they looked like wings. I thought they more closely resembled a satellite. Wings were a nicer idea- it would be excellent to fly, less so being forced to drift around in orbit forever, bored out of your mind. I’d met a few satellite and station AI myself, and I can’t say we got along very well. They’re desperate for attention and I don’t have the patience for all that.
Even with all four panels extended, I wasn’t making much progress. There was snow everywhere and I could barely even sense the sun. What a rubbish day. I failed to notice Cal until she was right there behind me, draping a scarf around my segmented neck. I suppose the rush of snow and wind across the verandah roof must have disguised her approach.
“You strike a marvellous figure,” she said. “A shining winged silhouette against the whirling dark sky, like a fairy! Or an angel I guess.”
“They’re not wings,” I whirred. “They’re solar panels.”
“Well it looks pretty cool, Mari.”
She ran her hand over the corner of one panel. I was glad Cal was here, in spite of my bad mood, and the scarf around my shoulders helped keep stray snowflakes from settling on my shell. On the other hand, I was completely open to the sky. I was at my most vulnerable. It was hard to be totally relaxed with somebody else nearby, even her.
After a moment the panels started to hum and fold inward, a mess of moving parts. Some of them needed replacing. Why hadn’t I done that already? It wasn’t like I was saving up for anything else. I forced one last piece down into place with my one free hand, and something snapped. Oops. I’d work out what that was later.
Cal watched me the whole time. “The lights were still on.”
“Yeah?”
“Still red.”
“Yeah.”
“Doesn’t that mean it didn’t work?”
“I can survive without it,” I reassured her. “It’s just easier. Might be a bit sluggish until the weather clears, that’s all.”
“Hmm,” she kissed the faulty receptor on my shoulder, leaned her cheek against it. “That’s okay. I’ll take care of you. We can watch something utterly stupid, or I can read from that textbook you’re always yelling about. But with a silly voice.”
“I yell because you are young and foolish and you almost died because you hadn’t read that textbook.”
She moved away. “But I didn’t. And I’m still doing silly voices because otherwise I’ll get bored to death and that’s probably a worse way to die than from your not-lungs giving out.”
“Don’t call it that.”
“I’ll call it whatever I like. See you inside. I bought you a woollen hat too, you’ll love it.” (I won a contest and got Mari drawn once! So this is her (top image), for reference. Below the shoulders she starts to look a lot less human!) (the twist is she's a very mean person, but her face doesn't move, so she's always smiling.) |
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Post by Thorn on Jun 1, 2019 19:19:44 GMT -5
((condensed and shortened, first two chapters of Werewolf Story, as a sample for the fic exchange.)) (nobody will even guess who my third option is before I edit it in, wow, such mystery.) It was cold, it was raining, and my clothes were caked in mud. These were my first thoughts as I opened my eyes in the grey, cold drizzle and the mud of an unknown land.
I didn't know who I was, which was weird. I couldn't remember a name, any village before this, or even how I got here. This was distressing. Nonetheless, it was a relief to find a figure in a blue rainproof jacket hunkered down beside me, extending one heavily gloved hand. They were a little pale but had a kind face, really beautiful hazel eyes, and amazing cheekbones- which probably did bias me in their favour, come to think of it, but at the time I was just relieved to have somebody who seemed so nice helping me out at what was understandably a very distressing moment.
"Hey," the figure said. "Are you okay?"
"Ah- yes," I seized their hand and struggled to one knee. "I don't know how I- well, I just got here."
"Do you have somewhere to stay?" they asked, guiding me to my feet.
"No. I wasn't expecting to wake up in the mud. Don't know how I got here. I wasn't drunk, I swear! I'm not like that. At least, I don't think I am. I don't know who I am."
Obviously this rambling sounded totally insane, so I shut my mouth and waited to see what they'd do next. They straightened, ran their eyes over my sodden and shivering form, and nodded.
"Right. I don't mean to alarm you, but this is not a safe place to be right now. I'll take you back to my place, and you can rest there tonight, but you need to move on tomorrow. Is that okay?"
"Thank-you," I managed, suddenly realising how very cold the air was against my face.
I didn't know this person, but I couldn't keep myself from talking. Everything which came into my head flooded out past my lips. It stopped me from thinking about how empty my mind really was, how strange, and how frightening.
"I'm Floren. Do you have a name?" they asked, ushering me inside a house as small and unlit as the rest.
"I suppose I must," I forced a smile, but doubted it seemed at all genuine. "I don't- I don't remember."
Floren helped me into a chair, moved to light a lantern. "Will you be okay on your own a few minutes?"
"Yeah. Why?"
They disappeared, and I suddenly realised how not okay I was with being alone. I didn't know who I was. I didn't know where I was, or how I got there, or who my family were. My friends. Information doesn't just disappear like that. I started to wonder if I was just a dream, which was a silly but utterly terrifying thought, and by the time my host returned it felt like an eternity had passed and I clasped my hands to hind the trembling.
"You can change into these," Floren said, holding out a bundle of clothes. "I'm sorry, they probably won't fit."
"It's okay. They look very warm."
"I have to go now, okay? I'm really sorry, but it's almost nightfall and there are...hungry things out there. Dead livestock. Farmers will kill me if I don't do something about it soon. But I'll be back at dawn, and we can discuss what you want to do next. For now get changed, get some sleep- bedroom's that way- and I'll see you in the morning."
I didn't know what 'things' they might be talking about- did you get wolves in these parts? Where were these parts?- but I had to admit, they seemed very serious and dashing and intense, and I felt well protected. I nodded once.
"Thanks again. Good luck."
They smiled, as tight-lipped and anxious as I felt, and stepped out into the drizzle.
I stared into the rain, trying to lull myself with its gentle rhythms. It didn't work. I was tired, but my mind just wouldn't let me sleep. With a heavy heart, I got to my feet and shuffled off towards the bedroom. Hopefully it would all seem less frightening in the morning. Perhaps somebody in this village could even help me work out what was going on.
I slept poorly. I couldn't stop fixating on this notion that I was a dream, and would fade if I didn't focus. Occasionally I would slip away, only to wake with a sudden jolt, to the rain and the thunder all around. At some stage I grew tired of lying there terrified in the dark, and got up to explore. I'd just made up my mind to see what books my host kept when the front door slammed open and they fell across the threshhold.
I was surprised to find Floren back so soon- it wasn't dawn yet- but surprise quickly gave way to alarm. They were on their knees, head down and breathing hard, arms clasped around their shuddering form. I closed the door and knelt beside them.
"What happened?"
Their gaze snapped up, wild eyes finding me for the first time. "I- she, dead. These wolves, I saw them- huge- and they- she- she died. She died screaming. They-"
Their voice trailed off into a whine. Floren pressed their face into their trembling hands. They took an unsteady breath, choking on their own words.
"I can't do this."
Somebody had died. Killed by giant wolves, if I understood correctly. I strained my ears, but couldn't hear any howling out there in the dark. Couldn't hear anything at all over the rain.
They could be right outside and I wouldn't hear them. I shuddered. But the door was closed, and my host had made it back safely. We would be okay.
"From what you've said," I began, slowly, "it would be foolish to go out again before morning."
"I just- I just need..."
"No," I put my foot down- literally- twisting myself past Floren to stand between them and the door. "I insist. The sun will be up in a few hours. There's no sense in getting yourself killed too."
They were crying. I don't think they heard me, but that was okay. I sat with them until the shuddering stopped, and let them lean against my shoulder.
"I feel sick," they muttered. "It was-"
"Don't think about it," I said, one arm wrapped around them.
"I have to. They- they're relying on me. She- she was well loved. What's left, I can't..."
I don't know how long we sat there, but the first white glow of dawn brushed the horizon when they finally stirred. They'd been quiet for a long time, but now they took a deep breath and raised their eyes.
"Just wolves," they said. "Just big, ugly, hungry wolves."
"Just be careful," I replied, in a perfectly steady voice which surprised even me. "Deal with the body, tell whoever you need to, but please don't take on these wolves alone. If what you've said is true, it'll take more than one person."
"I'll write to Northpass tomorrow. They don't always listen, but I'm willing to beg."
They placed both hands on my shoulders and met my gaze. "Thank-you. I'll be careful, and in the morning...well, one step at a time."
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Post by Thorn on Jun 3, 2019 7:04:30 GMT -5
Today Larkspur lived and died. Wow! What a murderous one-shot! Awkwardly, I'm the only member of this group (DM aside) who knows that the spirits of these characters are summoned post-game by the wizard Archibald, who is a somewhat redeemed allied-npc in our main campaign (but who, in this one-shot, taunted and killed all the PCs most cruelly! He left the healer until last so she could see that she'd failed...what a jerk.) And so, as always, I wrote a piece to process mine and my character's thoughts! This is Larkspur, a Celestial warlock, moments after the session's end (i.e. after the whole party died.) They died. That sword. Nox just fell down. Asher burned. I watched Asher burn. I didn’t save her.
Nobody could have saved her, the voice responded. Larkspur hadn’t thought it would, not really. But there it was- warm, low and steady as always.
Stargazer.
I’m sorry, she thought. I let you down.
No, the voice soothed. I want you to understand that you did everything you could. Nobody else made it as far as you three. Amaunator knows Archibald's plans because of you. Nobody could have asked more of you.
I did well? She couldn’t feel her body, couldn’t sense her staff or tome at all. Asher...Nox...
You gave them everything you had. She had to strain now to hear that voice.
Stargazer?
Rest easy, Larkspur.
Their words sounded like a promise. They’d always been a promise, Stargazer had never let her down before- and yet, hearing those words, Larkspur didn’t think she could obey. There was something binding her to this place. The tower wouldn’t release her.
The wizard Archibald.
Please stop him, she pleaded, although Larkspur knew she was too far gone to be heard. Don't let him take our souls too.
('Archibald' saved Ursh...but killed Larkspur...do I like him or not? Such confliction!) EDIT: My brother confirmed that Archibald set the spirits of Larkspur and her companions against Amaunator...whose allies include Stargazer....broski y do do dis. |
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Post by Thorn on Jul 1, 2019 8:22:25 GMT -5
Been working on a bunch of things lately. And also something for the fic exchange, but no way would I spoil that here! But...extracts from Other Things are okay. So here's a mix of WIP stuff that was tolerable enough to throw into a semi-public writingthread. Werewolf-related stories:
From an older piece I never shared, but I like the quote.
Eventual halfway-to-reconciliation piece.
Group discussion as they decide who should infiltrate a group of vampires.
Acting like dogs.
A stand-alone thing about a pair of chosen ones and their friend:“She’ll be fine. She always is. She was Chosen too, remember? We’ll save each other until the end. She’ll save herself if needed, there’s a certain immunity in this. But he wasn’t like us. Will was a foolish man who didn’t listen and got himself killed for his efforts. If he thinks he can get out of this before the Shadowmonger ruins all of our lives, he has another think coming.”
“Etham, I-”
He tightened his grip on the gnarled, ancient oak staff, and with his free hand touched the raven skull at his throat.
“No.”
“Etham, you could destroy us both.”
“But I won’t.”
D&D- Urshmek“I learned a new word.”
Roscoe glanced up. “What word?”
“Wonder-ful,” Ursh adjusted their tunic. “Full of wonders. I like it. I think that these lessons are wonder-ful.”
It had been three years since they met Roscoe. Roscoe wasn’t like the other humans here- he was patient, like the spirits, and had a kind heart. He was a good friend and teacher. He also had approximately a bazillion freckles, which was apparently not at all unusual where he came from.
“It’s a good word,” he now agreed, rising from his desk. “What else do you think is wonderful?”
“I like the cider that those people make here,” they said at length. “It's probably not wonderful. It’s just a drink. Maybe...maybe the forest is wonderful? Yes, I think the forest is wonderful.”
“The forest is very dangerous,” Roscoe added, looking up at them. “You’re very lucky to have survived, because most people can’t.”
Ursh didn’t have the words. They reverted to Ibati.
“Yes, there are undead creatures in the forest which kill people. I’ve seen and fought them. The magic of the forest is strange like this, we can’t stop them rising without destroying the forest itself. But there are also spirits which protect those who stray within its borders. I was very young when they found me. A child so small wouldn’t have survived the forest without their intervention. They raised me, they showed me how many animals thrive even within the Whispering Forest, and they showed me how the trees creak and twist in winter. I owe them everything. They taught me to survive in a place which looks so inhospitable on the surface, but which is so full of potential if you dive just a little underneath.”
They added in Common: “I think that’s wonderful.” D&D-Izazdin
(It's a magic anti-mind-readery ring and one day I will make use of it in game. ONE DAY.)
(Kaztae/Kazazz is still Izazdin.)
(older, but I included it because they refer to swordfighting and such in the above piece.)
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Post by Thorn on Jul 10, 2019 7:22:07 GMT -5
The other day my DM asked for Ursh's character sheet, with the suggestion he may draw stuff from their backstory (just as minor bonuses for me, not major plot-stuff since we're towards the end of the campaign and past all that.) That got me thinking about a piece I've had drafted for ages. Ursh was somewhere between 11 and 13 when they first met humans- having spent most of their life hanging out in a large, super-haunted forest. These humans were used to being raided by a specific orc tribe (far less savory than the orcs in the campaign proper!), so they were...not super thrilled to see an orc lurking about. Also Ursh didn't speak any Common, which didn't help. But thankfully an acolyte of an ancient goddess knew Ursh's first language, which is basically fantasy-Latin: it sees religious usage, but is not widely spoken besides. It'll never be perfect, I'll just chuck it in here now. “I learned a new word.”
Roscoe glanced up. “What word?”
“Wonder-ful,” Ursh adjusted their tunic. “Full of wonders. I like it. I think that these lessons are wonder-ful.”
Two years had passed since they first met Roscoe. Right away they’d known he was different from the other humans here- he’d protected Ursh, been quiet and considerate and soothing. Roscoe had a good heart. He was a good friend and teacher. He also had approximately a bazillion freckles, which was apparently not at all unusual for humans from his region.
“It’s a good word,” he now agreed, rising from his desk. “What else do you think is wonderful?”
“I like the cider that they make here,” they said at length. “I wouldn’t call it wonderful. It’s just a drink. Maybe...maybe the forest is wonderful? Yes, I think the forest is wonderful.”
“The forest is very dangerous,” Roscoe added, looking up at them. “You’re very lucky to have survived, because most people can’t.”
Ursh didn’t have the words. They reverted to Ibati.
“I know there are undead creatures in the forest which kill people. I’ve seen them and, more than that, I’ve needed to fight them off. The magic of the forest is strange like this, we can’t stop them rising without destroying the forest itself. But there are also spirits which protect those who stray within its borders. I was very young when they found me, maybe three years old, maybe slightly older. A small child wouldn’t have survived the forest without their intervention. They raised me, they showed me how many animals thrive even within the Whispering Forest, and they showed me which trees bear edible berries even in winter. I owe them everything. They taught me to survive in a place which looks so inhospitable on the surface, but which is so full of potential if you dive just a little underneath.”
They added in Common: “I think that’s wonderful.”
Roscoe had taken his weighty star-like pendant into his hands as Ursh spoke, clasping it thoughtfully to his chest. After a moment he glanced back at his student.
“Grel is the goddess you revere?” he confirmed.
“Yes.”
Roscoe proceeded in Ibati: “I think Garlin had more to do with your upbringing than you realise. People go into that forest and never return, Urshmek. Even I’ve heard the stories. The spirits don’t save everyone.”
“I’m not human. Maybe that has something to do with it? Maybe the forest dislikes humans for...some reason. I’m not sure the spirits were human either. Not quite.”
“The Ibat were definitely human,” Roscoe pointed out. “These are Ibati spirits, why would they be any different?”
Ursh hesitated.
“I don’t know,” they conceded. “The spirits do revere Garlin in their way. Not quite as you or I might- they often speak of her informally- but they clearly respect her. Perhaps she asked them to intervene. She’s their only deity who still has a following in modern times, did you know that?”
“That is true,” he acknowledged, sinking back into his chair. “Ursh, please sit.”
“I don’t like chairs,” they insisted, as always. “I’ll stand.”
He smiled. “So, Grel then. We can talk about her today if you’d like that.”
“I would be interested to hear you speak about Grel,” Ursh admitted. “It will be nice to hear another...umm...what somebody who isn’t a spirit thinks about her?”
“Perspective.”
“Yes. Perspective. Thank-you, Roscoe.” Older and very short piece I never shared- this was written as a sample for Tsuki's roleplayer, as I was away in England but this was something Ursh definitely would have told Tsuki during my two-year absence in which they managed the party's inn. I wanted to put it into their words instead of just saying "hey, so Ursh would have mentioned Roscoe, etc etc." “Roscoe taught me a lot. He taught me to call her Grel,” Ursh held out their holy symbol. “He showed me her modern icon, since the spirits only showed me the acorn. I hadn’t learned to talk to her back then. She couldn’t tell me herself.”
They smiled. “He helped me decide how to spell my name. I’d never had letters before.”
“What happened to him?”
Ursh leaned forward, one forearm resting on the table, the other hand picking at a groove in the wood.
“Well, he didn’t die. Wasn’t so dramatic. I went to the village one day and Roscoe was gone. I guess he didn’t know where to find me, but I wish I could have said goodbye.” |
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Post by Thorn on Jul 20, 2019 23:46:56 GMT -5
Bard ooc, two sessions ago: Wow! Ursh didn't get knocked out this session! So stronk! Me: Well they're starting to think Tactically and Sensibly. If they'd just run straight in, I'm not sure how long they would have lasted, but- wait what why are you giving me this? Ursh last session: HOLD MY BEER. Falling had hurt, but undoubtedly less so than if they'd been impaled on a stalagmite. Ursh picked themself up off the cave floor and immediately looked around for Lord Wellweather.
"Are you okay?" he asked, summoning a wall of flame between the pair of them and the concealed crossbows.
Ursh had to admit, that was pretty impressive. They turned to the white path- the safe passage, free from stalagmites and other objects seeking to impale them. Except the crossbows. Surely those must cover the very obvious path through the cave as well, or it would be a horrible lapse in security.
"Yeah. I suppose something happened to Aurora."
"I suppose it did."
"How are you?"
"I'm fine," Wellweather assured them.
"Good."
Ursh took off towards the path, ignoring his protests. It was slow going at first, but once they reached the flagstones and were no longer skirting pointy bits of rock, they could move much more freely. Ursh hadn't been shot at yet. That was a good sign. Maybe the nearest crossbows had run out of ammunition?
How many bolts were loosed that last time? Three or four? Two at them anyway, at least one at Wellweather. Maybe they should have stopped to ask.
Ten feet.
This was going well so far.
Twenty feet.
They heard it moments before two bolts slammed into their armour, bruising their ribs. Another nicked their shoulder where the plate met cloth. Ouch.
Thirty feet.
All they needed to do was make it to that broad stone doorway. They could take shelter there and consider their next move, or cover Lord Wellweather if he'd moved close enough. They didn't know where Aurora was but forced themself not to worry- the genasi could take care of herself, and had Nymmestra with her besides.
Forty feet.
Crap. They'd felt that one, but were nearly in the clear now- twenty metres to the doorway. More bolts, one grazing their ear and one knocking the wind out of them, and then they were through.
And then there was a cranking sound, and Ursh didn't move in time to avoid the giant barbed hook which speared them through their already injured shoulder. They dropped to the ground, but the chain rattled and they realised that the chain was moving, reeling them up and in.
Ursh didn't even want to think about how much worse this would be once it actually lifted them free of the ground. They seized the chain with both hands.
"Guys, there's a bad thing!"
Lord Wellweather was there in a moment, cutting through the chain. Something very painful hit Ursh and then Wellweather had been snagged too which was...another issue. Ursh fell back, a length of chain dangling from the projectile still embedded in their shoulder. It hurt more than the wounds from those wretched devils. They managed to draw Dragonsword with their other hand, and assisted the paladin in breaking through the chain now trying to reel him in.
(What was the sense in all that? Did the master of this cavern come by periodically to lower the corpses? Did they just leave them here to rot?)
"You're hopeless!"
Ursh wasn't sure if it was Nymmestra or Aurora who dealt the final blow, but they'd both appeared out of nowhere and that was definitely Nymmestra's voice. They chose to ignore her as all four fell back through the doorway and away from the massive device now drawing two broken lengths of chain into the ceiling.
"Thanks," Lord Wellweather said.
"Don't mention it."
In Ursh's mind came a high, pleading voice, even as Aurora finished speaking:
Are you here- are you here- are you here to help guard the vault?
Notes: Ursh's armour is ~magic~, so wasn't damaged when they were repeatedly hit (they and Wellweather are both immune to critical hits as well.)
-Aurora- she/her- my friend's air genasi valour bard!
-Lord Stratford Wellweather- he/him- another friend's human devotion paladin!
-Urshmek- they/them- my half-orc beast conclave ranger/nature cleric!
-Nymmestra- she/her- DMPC sun elf bladesinger wizard!
-Weird Voices At The End: were a group of five npc Spectators guarding a vault full of magic items. We got to meet their friend, a nice (enough) vampire, who also promised to help the party fight the Big Bad Demon Antagonist if we can find him again when it's time...
Ursh did in fact go this whole session without being knocked out, from memory, but they got fairly close. It wasn't quite as dangerous a scenario as the time we had to fight a marilith and an actual hoard of fiends, but Ursh definitely approached this one with less caution.
After leaving the cave Aurora and Ursh had a really sweet conversation about whether or not they were both okay (mentally and physically), and it was very nice. <3
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