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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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Last time

Witch falling into a trap
More sex shop shit
Sir Artorias fights demons then spends time with his family.


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I'm working on the first part of my Coininoch thing, and I'm almost done. Once I'm finished, I'll email you and Fearghaile.

What the bloody hell is that from, anyway?
But yeah. I'd like to work on something with other people. Tell me if your interested. But for now I'm goin to bed.
Wakusei no Samidare.
Witch falling inside a trap? Is this you're-shrunken-motherfucker-just-like-that-one-episode-of-the-magic-school-bus shit?


That I did.

Not sure
Hm, looks like I got more done than I thought. GearHeart, Fearghaile, check your email.

Doing so now
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I mean, are we a witch that's shrunken to the point where we can enter an orifice on the trap? Ride our steed (or broom) through his internal organs?
Not yet
Olin I checked the email and are there but I can't do anything but wait for you. One to add my email to the list so I show up as myself and so I can leave comments on what you have written so far
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One, re-posting Meina for posterity. Poster she has trouble in.

Two, damn it Lyrik email.

Three, damn it Olin email/comment powers

Four, damn it everyone for not having a story to start with
Whoops, forgot to give you permission to comment. Anyone with the link can do it now.
Thank you
I sometimes question the intelligence of the criminals in this world.

There was no reason for them to not see this coming, especially in a land where, as far as I knew, you had a nation of gentlemen who wouldn't put up with this shit. Not to mention any other morally just person who'd find a husband and wife lying dead on the side of the road, heads caved in and bodies battered.

The fuckers even had the nerve to kidnap their daughter and leave a ransom note. It's like they were ASKING to get Paladin'd.

Even as I crept through the caverns, my mind drifted back to that realm, subject of what could pass for myth and legend.

Teegee. The last real link I could have with the world I once knew. Why I hadn't gone and joined them, I couldn't say.

Maybe after this little excursion, I'd go and check it out. But first, I had thugs to deal with.

Peeking my head round a corner, I saw them. Two large men sitting at a table, drinking heartily from mugs of ale that, judging from their coherence, looked to have been their third.

And tied up on on the floor, practically catatonic in shock, lay the young half-elf. A slim, pretty young thing, she seemed relatively unharmed, thankfully enough.

You know, besides the trauma of seeing her parents die before her eyes.

Clenching a fist, I allowed myself a few minutes to make a plan. I was getting her out of here.
You man are doing Gods work.
I'd just like to remind you of that.
Carry on.
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They killed the parents and asked for ransom. Thats beyond buttfaced retarded we've reached Jap movie lvls of dumbfucking assholes.

Pic is GearHeart after going hulk after hearing of this ineptitude of humanity. Also good work so far. But give us a name to work with.
here is email, though with mid terms, lab reports, and financial aid i doubt i'll be able to contribute much, if at all.
I would, but unfortunately life is a cheeky nigger in how it sneaks up on you.

I'll have to continue some time later.
>she wasn't fed to dogs
Oh good, this didn't take the turn I thought it would.
It went exactly how I thought. My money is on her being waifu material
In retrospect, it was probably a retard move to start this, seeing as I'm kind of winging it.
Nah do it however you want
I should at least read up on the setting.

Fuck. Sleep debt makes me stupid sometimes.
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I am busy these day m'boy. Finishing up an honors degree and applying for a new faculty requires loads of the Chronos.
I awoke to the sunlight streaming in through the open window. Spring is nice in TeeGee. Larissa slept soundly on my right arm, using my shoulder as her pillow and her tail curled lightly around my legs.

Tomoe on the other hand was lying clean on top of me, head buried in my chest as she snored lightly. She had pulled Larissa close into a hug with one arm, the other draped across the bed.

I kissed both my girls softly, smelling the sweet scents in their hair, lavender for the Kitsune claiming me as her bed and vanilla for the Lamia claiming my legs as her own. I idly stroked Tomoe's tails with one hand as I attempted to extract my right arm from its warm prison of flesh.

"Five years... I'm 25 today. Huh, I actually remembered my birthday this year." I said softly.

I closed my eyes and settled further into the bed, just enjoying life.
As I was about to fall back to sleep, Tomoe stirred awake. She gently shook Larissa who moaned softly. I feigned still being asleep. It's not often I get to hear my girls get up before me.

"Just five more minutes..." She mumbled into my shoulder.
"Shh... You'll wake Kasai. Do you remember what day it is?" Tomoe scolded gently.
"Ummmm... No?"
"It's his birthday! And we've beaten him up for once. Did you get him a present?" Tomoe softly exclaimed.
"Umm, no? Oh no what will I do?" Larissa said in a soft panic.
"We're all naked, silly."
"Oh? Oh. Ohhhhh. Right."

Both girls moved up towards me and kissed me on either cheek.

"Good morning and Happy birthday honey!" They both said in unison, their voices sweeter than sugar coated honey.

"Thank you girls! By the way, I heard every bit of that. Shame on you both, not getting me any presents..."

"How's this for a present, big Mr Sergeant-Major of the Guard?" Tomoe teased as she kissed her way down, down, down.
"I'm sorry I f-forgot, will this make it up to you?" Larissa said as she kissed me passionately.

Yeah, so what if it's been 5 years? I would never trade it for the world.
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Sir GearHeart already has the reforming succubus waifu. Back to the drawing board.
Yep and I am slowly coming to the reform. Though its still a few stories away. Rome was not built in a day and neither will a demon of lust be rebuilt
Well that's good and I wish you good things with your writing.
But learning that really killed me. I had a whole story planned out, but now it just seems cheap knowing that someone has already found a succubus waif.
Just finished another section of the Coininoch story, I'm tempted to just put it here.

That said, I'm not sure I could write the CTF scene. If either of my conspirators wants to give it a shot, go ahead. If neither of you want to do it, I guess I'll play Tribes for a couple hours while sleep deprived and see what comes out of my head.

Oh, there's a thought. The Coininoch have mythic heroes called Immortals, because they still live in legend. Good idea? Y/n

(RW&B, if you want any input on this, email me.)
To GearHeart: Go ahead and give Jim the push boots if you want. Wilhelm figured the enchantment out prior to the journey, and I'm actually writing another thing where he gets to use a pair of push gauntlets.

Give him enough time and Black Sabbath, and he'll probably make Iron Man armor.
Scottsbunny CuChulainn. Make it happen. I give my wholehearted support to this.

On another note, I heard mention that the confusion regarding the Kanin... I was always under they were more Medieval Welsh/Irish than Scottish, but that could just be me. I got the more Celtic feel from them than something very distinctly Scottish. I know to the casual observer, there's not a lot of difference, but to me, there is. Sorry, I'm a major historyfag for the British Isles.
So, is anybody around tonight?

Also, what did you guys think of my little slice 'o life piece from work?
I think I'm going to take some more time to flesh out Prescilla. Not quite sure how I'm going to go about it, but nothing risked, nothing gained.

Not bad. I'm on, but only because it's lunchtime here.
Touching up the illithid piece.
Not really feeling inspired tonight.
Eh, me either. Rammed out that quickie at work coz it was quiet.

My dreams have been really peaceful of late. Something awesome about giving words and life to your Waifus is that you go to sleep imagining them, and tehn wake up and your arms are kinda sore as if they really were sleeping on/with you.

Glad I went crazy years ago, or that wouldn't make any sense!
Quick thought before I go to bed; we're probably using Mirthterran currency, due to our proximity. Given its position, I wouldn't be surprised if it were accepted in the Free Kingdoms as well.

Assuming Serrid has its own currency, their merchants might be less likely to accept Mirthterran coin.

Even so, I can see it becoming a de facto currency for many places. What would Mirthterrah call its money, anyway?
Royals, sovereigns, crowns, aurum, marks, gold?

Standard fantasy fare, I'd assume.

What exactly are the rough real-world analogues to the human cultures anyway? Serrid is "Arabia", I know that much.
Mirthterran is more or less France, the Free Kingdoms are...kinda random, all told.
Just ought to let you all know, there will be a delay on the next Clover Journal while I rewrite it.

Wasn't satisfied with how it was going, or the pacing.
Shame. I was looking forward to what backstory tidbits were going to be added next.

Gives me time to work on something...or take a nap. Don't know why I'm so tired after work.
Anything solid on the Kanin homeland? Besides being heavily based on Dog Days? I'm thinking of doing a bit of fleshing out over there once I post my intro.
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They're more or less based on the Irish/Welsh, or at least their homeland is.

I just pulled alot from Dog Days early on because, fuck it, why not? If there's one thing I like more than catgirls and elves, it's doggirls,
>Wargames with magic swords that turn those hit into dogs.
>In harmony with Foxpeople.
And thats about it
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I think it's time to do another piece about getting older.

I finally found something to focus on long enough to write out dialogue for.
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I can't see Serrid not taking Mirthan coin, honestly. They're a trade nation and probably as likely to barter with goods as coin. The question as to who's currency is most common should be answered by who has the greatest production of gold/silver, whether it's the Mirthans, Serrid, or the Dwarves, like of like when the Spanish flooded the market with gold from South America. I have no issue as to where it comes from, but it will show where the balance of power is pulled from.

Clan based with a central leader voted for by the clans, non-lethal combat resolution system ala Dog Days, and created by the Fey, but we don't know that and they don't like talking about it.

Nonono, foxpeople ARE Kanin. Pretty much every canid has traits represented in the Kanin, and this includes foxes and wolves. The Kitsune exist, but they're a distinct species, considerably rarer, longer lived, notoriously recluse, and also probably made by the Fey, though I doubt they'd tell you that.
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I'd forgotten how annoying it was to do speech and keep the formatting right on MS Word.

Pic related, my opinion on this little project now.
Nah, it only shows who has the most productive mint. The metals in and of themselves are only useful as Jewelry or as a means of exchange to these people. You want real wealth? Production of goods brings wealth. And all things considered, we're probably on our way up as a major economic power due to the heavy amount of trading and inventing going on here.

I wonder if the nearby kingdoms would ever accept paper money...
Not creating magic credit cards and taking other the realm in a giant money loaning scheme. Get on my level

Foreclose the neighboring kingdoms? An interesting scheme.
Not likely for a few more generations. I don't think anyone outside of the Knights templar did that until the advent of banking. We might be able to pull it off within the city if we can get the Gnomes to make us a press and plates for it.

Then again, this also depends on our ability to produce paper. The cost of writing them wasn't the only reason books were so expensive back in the day, after all, unless someone's already got a paper mill, that is.
Partly good, partly bad idea. Good in that we legally own all their stuff. Bad in that we don't have the means to enforce that, and that such a fall will certainly decrease the amount of available goods in the world. I rather like commerce, thank you very much.
I was planing on outsourcing to hell. They would make a great collection agency. Once again think harder.
Good idea, but we should tread carefully. The Knights Templar met their end because the French owed them too much money and they didn't want to pay up.
I don't mean wealth, I mean actual geopolitical power. Currency only works if it has legitimacy, and if say, Dwarven Gold is what has legitimacy as tender, and Mirthterrah loses access to that mint, they have their own gold and mint, but they won't be able to pay for all their soldiers without the support of Dwarven Gold.

Like I said, think Piece of Eight, a Spanish coin that had world-wide legitimacy. That's not to say that other nations don't have their personal currency, but the Spanish Dollar was accepted by EVERYONE, so to not have access to it would be a huge hamstring in commerce. It's not about actual wealth, it's about geopolitical power.
Don't you have a Succubus who joined you because they had poorly worded and vague laws in hell? If anything we should figure out a way to get a controlling interest in their operation and modernize it.
Ah. My mistake.
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That too. I just have to many stories to write/writing. GearHeart and Lilly enact a revolution/reform of hell and its laws in the year 20AA or so
Oops, forgot my namefag

Honestly, I'm not too savvy to getting hell to do our financial dirty-work through out-lawering them. Besides there are potential consequences that could seriously damage the metaphysical balance of the universe if we did something so foolhardy. I like the idea of going into hell and reforming them, but not transforming the entire Demon culture. They are essentially Fey with logical rules.
I was thinking just less evil and better written rules and putting an end to the succubus project
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“Is that a grey hair I see,” teased Bethany, standing on her tip-toes to get a better look. Sure enough, there was indeed a single grey hair. Damnit, Artorias was too young to be getting greys.

This had started over breakfast one morning in the Artorias house. Sir Artorias had recently turned 33, a fact his wives found amusing since, aside from Priscilla, they were all at least seven years his junior. Bethany especially, at only 21, had been making it a point to make her husband feel old whenever she got the chance, and damned if she wasn’t doing a good job of it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, as if doing so would hide the offending strand. Not likely since he kept his hair cut short this time of year.

“No way,” said Melena, jumping up from the other side of the table. “I’m got to see this. Is that it right…HA, you are getting old Arty!”

“I’ll remember this in another decade when your hair starts to grey out,” he shot back at the Felim.

“I bet you will,” she said, sweeping some of her brown hair back from her face, “but until then I get to make fun of you for it.”

“Come on now, Mel,” said Karrigan, trying not to laugh at her husband’s predicament, “he can’t help it he’s getting old. He hasn’t started losing his hair yet, so he isn’t over the hill yet.”

“Not you too,” he muttered. He glanced over at Priscilla in a pleading manner.

“Sorry,” she said from over the rim of her cup of tea. “You’re on your own dearest.”

“Et tu, Priscilla,” he said in a defeated tone. “You four are in for it tonight, you just don’t know it yet.”
I'm only 20 and I already have grey hair.
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“I’ve heard that one before,” teased Bethany.

“Have you now,” he said, reaching around and grabbing her and Melena by their waists and pulling them into his lap. “I’ll have to make good on that threat then, won’t I,” he whispered, nibbling on the elf’s ear, earning a very pronounced gasp. That never got old.

“And what about me, hmm,” purred Melena, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I don’t know,” he said, releasing the elf, who scampered to the other side of the table. “I’ll have to think of something creative between now and then. I might even have to visit Lily and ask her opinion on the matter.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, suddenly looking worried. She knew the succubus and her shop’s reputations very well.

“I won’t will I,” he said grinning.

“He won’t,” said Priscilla, not looking up from her breakfast. This sort of thing was going to become a part of the daily routine, she could tell already. He always made that threat, but so far hadn’t made good on it.

Karrigan cleared her throat. “Isn’t it about time for everyone to be heading off to work? You have another wagon of blueberries coming in today for your ice cream today, don’t you Priscilla? And you two have a meeting with the other errants in a little while, don’t you?”

“Why’d you have to remind me, you old fuddy duddy,” muttered Bethany. She liked the meetings to organize expeditions about as much as she did taking medicine, and Melena only slightly less so.
Some people go pregrey. My younger brother started having grey hairs at 15
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“You’re quite right, my thanks for reminding me Karri” said Priscilla, finishing her tea. “Would you two mind cleaning up while we go ahead?”

“Not a problem,” said Artorias. He wouldn’t be getting another class of recruits to train for some time yet, so he didn’t have much to do that day. Maybe he’d get some sparing in or something.

As he and Karrigan set about washing the dishes, another thought struck him. “You know,” he said, embracing Karrigan from behind with one arm and stroking her tail with the other, “we have the house all to ourselves and no pressing business this morning.”

“Oh,” she said, turning around as he pressed her against the sink, “what are you thinking?”

Bethany and Melena came back home for lunch, their meeting that morning being rather fruitless. There wouldn’t be any expeditions departing for at least another week at least. Maybe Artorias was up for some spari-wait a second, why are his and Karrigan’s boots still by the front door?

The two women sprinted up the stairs to the bedroom and their suspicions were quickly confirmed. “What do you think you two are doing,” Melena demanded, walking over to the bed when the two guilty ones were laying tangled in the sheets.

“The better question,” said Artorias, grabbing her arm and pulling her down with them, “is why aren’t you joining us yet?”

“Why you-“

“What about me,” demanded Bethany.

“Well you are a bit overdressed for the occasion to,” said Karrigan, waving her over.

‘I may be getting older,’ thought Artorias, ‘but I’m not dead yet.’
And then one of the girls says hes to old to keep up and then he makes good on his threat. And Lilly has fun.
They'd never all for it. The Succubus project is their lifeblood, their method of making more demons. It only takes one of the Demons to be savvy enough to notice and tell the chap in charge, and then it all falls down. It just wouldn't fit.
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At bloody LAST, I get something DONE!

I know it's not much to brag about, but I modified chapter one of Sir Andrew's journey into the Gnoll Wastes. Hopefully, this one stands up a little better under scrutiny. Can you guys let me know what you think?


Keep in mind, any views on anyone else aren't what I personally hold; you're all great. I was just trying to put myself in Sir Andrew's position and see how he'd consider everyone. There's probably a lot of explaining his character I've missed, but I still hope this is good enough and doesn't immediately just make people think he's a prick.
Well the idea is to make a better way for them to have new demons. The Aether will be making a comeback. Was my idea. Still playing with the exact ideas. But Fighting Hell was what I've wanted to do since I started writing GearHeart
Lily would do well to stay out of that situation, especially one Priscilla gets involved.

Half-dragons can get a bit possessive at times.
She would stay out of the fun as this would be long after her reform. But she loves to give everyone wild ideas.
I don't know...that piece was only in AA 7, so I'm not sure how far along she was on reform by then.
That would be around two years after reform. So she might be tempted, but she wouldn't do anything. Also I really need to write those pieces. Darn it City of Dragons, Coinirich games, Reform, visitor, and trip to hell. To many stories
That would be even worse! A newborn Demon from the Aether is more powerful than a current full-grown Capra demon, much less some barely-able-to-feed-itself fresh-made succubus.

The system that currently exists, while brutal to the humans that foolishly fall for the honeyed trap, is much preferable to an organized army of Aether-daemons. Trust me, the fact that they depend on humans keeps demons weak, and while we can't destroy the system, recruiting demons out of the Miasma for the cause of good would do well to wreck their morale. Conquering Hell just isn't something us lowly mortals can really do. Heck, I suspect most of us get by through dumb luck and minor divine providence (that's what Lem's blessed/cursed with), but even then, there are some things too big for even luck.

You should open the document so that people can comment on it, this way we can point out little issues such as grammar mistakes and larger ones like the fact that as a Knight, Andrew's entitled to decent enough gear (and Katana's are pretty cheap, since they don't require as quality steel)
I know all that. Like I said still working out the specifics of how it is to be done. Hell I'm still working out the specifics of Miasma/Hell. The goal of the story is change. Might make things better might make them worse. And I never said conquer the place just try to slowly influence it.
The issue with that is that I risk it just being vandalised... No offence to anyone, but I've learned not to trust the internet with anything. It's just a mater of time before someone thinks they'll be funny and just defaces everything. Even if they don't, a load of corrections would make it hard to read and interrupt the flow.

Also, while he may have the RIGHT to decent gear, Sir Andrew's pretty much broke. Knights were historically required to pay out of their own pocket for the upkeep of their weapons and armour. Never heard of it being different in Teegee, though I know that the Men-At-Arms are issued gear. Besides anything, I didn't figure Sir Andrew merited a flintlock, given the scarcity of ammunition, the quantity he'd need to take (no-where to re-supply out in the wastes, so he'd have to bring upwards of a hundred rounds) and the risk of the weapon and ammo being lost to an enemy, possibly to be subsequently re-produced.

Thanks for the response though! How'd I do in turning down the Mary Sue?
Just set the settings so that they can highlight and comment. Not edit.
Oy mate, weren't we supposed to civquest right now?
We've got contacts with the Gnomes. You'd think we could at least get a few wheel lock pistols or something.
Eh, I'm running it and lurking at the same time. See? >>20990696

Ahem, ah, yes, er... Right! Of course! I'll do that..!

...If I was sure how to work Google Docs properly...

> Wheel-locks
> Better than flintlocks
> laughinggnomes.jpeg
Flintlock came after the wheellock.
True enough, but wheellocks were a nobleman's firearm. Besides, it has more moving parts, and you know how much gnomes love moving parts.
But wheellock seems to be objectively better, if you can build it properly. It's like comparing a bolt action to a semi-auto.
Oh gods no! The wheel-lock is just the method of igniting the powder! It's still a single-shot weapon. In fact, it's worse, as instead of just cocking the flint, you have to wind up the spring, reducing the rate of fire, relative to a flintlock. Add to that, there's a small, but perceptible difference in the time from the trigger being pulled, to the moment the charge ignites and the shot leaves the barrel, decreasing accuracy. Wheel-locks are in every way the inferior weapon. There is pretty much no way to get a revolver (what you meant) or other such rapid-firing weapon, until the advent of primer and ideally, brass cartridges. The primer being beyond our reach here in Teegee.wa
They're also fairly fragile in use, unfortunately, according to a historian I know. The spring tends to be fragile, and the shaking of the gun upon firing can dislodge the clockworks.
Shows how much I know about old guns.
Bows seem like the way to go unless you have to punch through some armor.
Another reminder that the 4chan writefag channel is #writescribbles should any of you wish to drop by or ask for critique or advice.
Why do you think I insisted on longbows for the yeomanry? They were used alongside firearms for over a hundred years, because their rate of fire was so impressive and bodkin points punched through armour, especially with a good, yew longbow, with a draw of eighty to a hundred and twenty pounds! A well-trained, English longbowman could put roughly ten shots downrange in a minute; I've seen display archers do it at shows here in the UK. They're accurate too!

There was a proposal before about giving our troops aluminium compound bows with pulleys, etc, but there's two problems with that: First, modern bows are aluminium-titanium alloy and we don't have titanium. Straight aluminium would actually CATCH FIRE. Second; what kind of attention will it get us when our foot soldiers and horsemen have bows worth more than their weight in gold, to the rest of the world! We'd be fighting an invasion in weeks!
And then a minister invented the next big thing in guns.
I just remembered wheel locks from Deadliest Warrior.
Should hire some Shaolin monks and arm them with needles. No one would be safe from them.
With comments? Not really. You as the owner can just delete the comments you don't like if you want.

Also, Knights are taxed out the nose. Some things must be bought, like extra expensive/enchanted arms and armor, but those are subsidized to a certain extent as it were, but overall, a Knight is guaranteed quality housing and food for himself and his family as well as complete logistical support in doing whatever business he does for TeeGee (within reason) in exchange for less relative expendable income. This makes sure no knight becomes too rich and powerful, spreading power and funds throughout the organization for the better balance of power.

And now, Sir Andrew would not be allowed a flintlock, even if he was in good standing. The only people who are allowed to take guns out of TeeGee are high-level diplomats and the Blades.
Muskets and canon also had another great advantage, besides punching through armour: They were terrifying! During the English Civil War, Prince Charles the Second would always release Parliamentary captives, unless they were gunners! Canon and muskets terrified men and horses, so Charles had them all put to the sword!

I do recall myself having a flintlock rifle at the beginning of all this...
Your personal weapon.
Gnomes deal more with steam-power and magitech. Gunpowder is an entirely new thing to this world, so pretty much the only firearm manufacturers are, well, us. Gnomes recruited to our research teams definitely played a hand, but ultimately, it was us who won out.

When someone says "Aluminum" in practical use, they're usually referring to an alloy, not the metal proper. I also don't see why we wouldn't have titanium to alloy with aluminum (though we'd probably just use a dural type alloy). In fact, I could probably wager pretty decent coin that the Dwarves have been using it for a while. Adamantium anyone?

We also have cannons and firearms, something basically the whole realm knows by this point and all compound bows would look like are overly-complicated bows. Sure, the archers of TeeGee might be disturbingly accurate and fast with fire, but most probably wouldn't understand the difference of the bow unless they were a seasoned archer and handled it themselves. They'd also be difficult and expensive to reproduce without an understanding of the mathematics behind the bow and the machining process to make them, things we have. So ultimately, compound bows are safer than firearms in this regard.

The other problem is that (putting aside your apparent fetish for British military history) longbows required a large amount of dedication and specialization, and part of being in the guard is being capable with everything as necessary, even with minor specializations. Compound bows require less training, strength, and skill all for the same result, plus a faster rate of fire and smaller profile, ideal for use in closer quarters. Compound bows by every measure but cost are superior to longbows, and even then, it's negligible with the cost of a properly master-crafted longbow.

Well, as an avid bowman for the past 6 years, I have to counter-point that argument.

A traditional Welsh longbow is only outmatched by a Mediterranean core-wood longbow, such as Yew. Compound bows are made from animal sinews and animal based glues which need molds, shapers and significant artistry to manufacture. A longbow is a core, or near core piece of wood shaped to maximize force output and retain its elasticity and rigidity.

Training wise, a compound bow would be easier due to the lower poundage and size, but then you lose distance and stopping power. A good longbowman can put up to 10 arrows down range a minute at 200 yards accurately, with enough force to penetrate medium armor.

The only thing I can think of to remedy the dispute would be to specialize the formations even further. From a defensive standpoint, if I am atop the walls fighting off invaders, the longbow will be leaps and bounds better than a compound bow. If you are in an offensive maneuver that requires higher mobility and faster shooting, then a compound bow or recurve bow would be ideal.

Also, I learned to be proficient with a 170 pound pull longbow in 2 years, so the training for a mass of archers to be efficient would not take much longer than having then use compound bows in that sense.

For individual accuracy, perhaps a compound would be better, but in a mass volly, Longbows are far, far superior.
An aluminium compound bow might be peanuts to us, but consider this:

The rest of the world, particularly Mithterrah (who use crossbows, by the way), pays through the nose for aluminium. It's part of why Teegee is so wealthy; we export small amounts of highly valuable material, while importing base materials, like tin and iron. If anyone sees that we're SO rich in this fantastically valuable substance to just hand out a WHOLE BOW of it to every Tom, Dick and Harry in our armed forces, just think how long it'll be before we have a lot of greedy lords, nobles and kings on our doorstep, all looking for a piece of the pie!

Further, I would like to open a dialogue without rancour here: What is the great advantage of generalisation in the Men-At-Arms, in your opinion?

> fetish for British military history
Clue's in the name, by the way. And yeah, I'm an unashamed historyfag.
All that was brought up before. Well except your 170 pound pull. The thing is Britfag has a raging hard on for British Military and Fear seems to have a sort of rivalry with him. As Britfag seems to get underpeoples skin a lot. I understand why, but damn it people stop this wanking about the guard and weapons. I liked it better when people were creating the world through story and less through. Bitching at each other in the threads. Which is ironic/stupid coming from me. Does it really matter if they are called the guard or the men at arms. Or if they use this bow or that. Or if there training is 32 or 34 or what the fuck ever weeks. NO, it doesn't.
And yet, unless you have a professional army, crossbows are the ideal choice for massed training; like you said, it took you two years to become proficient in a Longbow, and I expect Recurve bows to take similar timespans; Crossbows are far simpler.
To answer your question adaptability. In this world you need to be adaptable today its Orks tomorrow its demon and the day after it the god damn elves knocking on the door. Each with different strengths weaknesses and strategies.
So I think I may have a better idea of what I'm getting into now.


I'm scared.
I really need to get back to keeping it up to date. Whole bunch of new races and nobody bothers to add them. Hey you people. You add/added a new race add it to the list. Brief description if possible.
FYI, the 1d4chan page might be a bit out of date. Nobody seems to want to be the wiki guy.

Well, this was the challenge we undertook when we made a "free-join-everyone build" world building experiment. People want different things different ways.

I myself have a raging boner for history, but I try to keep it quiet and make an effort to not be at ends with anyone.

Also, this is what happens when everyone has a piece of the first pie, they all want the next one made a specific way. When everyone has a say, its complicated and difficult to get a consensus from everyone when there is no one definitive force. Now, I am not advocating or promoting that someone "lead" us, but if we are going to make this work we need to compromise and work together god dammit.

We are civilized and educated men of the internet, it shouldn't be that hard gentlemen. I for one, am going to say this:

In regard to the training of Men-at-Arms, Guards, Legionnaires, whatever you want to call them, that we keep the extreme specifics vague. The exact number of weeks and specified drill composer should be left to each individuals imagination. That way, everyone gets their pie and eats it too. If no one goes into extreme detail about it, no one can get offended because nothing offensive was said.

Specialization is for insects. A person should be able to cook a good meal, make a book (even if terribly written), write well, argue philosophy, hunt and dress a kill, fight well, make a fire, bandage wounds and injuries, and make someone laugh.
My point exactly.

Like I said, I can't won't do it alone. People should be working together on this.
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I'd hate to be contrary, but I think you're thinking of COMPOSITE bows, not compound bows. Compound bows were invented in the 1960s and use a system of pulley cams to maximize power while minimizing draw weight. pic related.

I seriously doubt anyone in Mirthterrah is going to notice the material of the cams on a bow, or have the knowledge and technology to check. The cams can be as easily made out of steel as aluminum alloy. We just happen to have alot of the latter, so why not use what we have?

As for the second question, GearHeart said it, but I'll expand. Specialization is for field armies. A field army isn't something we have the luxury of having. Since the guards/men-at-arms are primarily defensive, their primary training will come in anti-siege tactics, and in a siege, you need every hand either throwing arrows when they're outside of the walls, or with a sword in hand when they're in. Even our primary Cavalry, the Dragoons, are trained in mounted infantry. We need to be as flexible as possible because we don't have the luxury of specialization when we have so many potentially problematic enemies. We just can't field the army they can.
Well, I'd done some stuff (as knightofteegee), but what with schoolwork and the job hunt, I've not had time to even keep up on the threads, much less work on the wiki.
Yeah Its mostly been you and me I think.

Yes, I dun goofed on that. I had the thought in my head, but it came out the opposite.

But, why would we want a compound bow? I don't want to start anything new, but in comparison, traditional bows are superior in this situation...
I think a better question would be why WOULDN'T you want a compound bow, considering the flat pull, superior power, and greater accuracy. Maintenance and cost are something, but those are offset by easier training and practice. I'd honestly like to hear what tradition long and recurve bows have on a good composite.
I'd say compound, in order to set ourselves still further apart from the rest of the world technologically. We've already got weapons and tools the likes the world has never seen before, but there're so far removed from what this world has seen that they've lost some impact. Taking something this world is familer with, such as the bow, and turning it into something superior and ailen helps to build up our mystique.

Well, for one:

A traditional bow, once made, would withstand the wear and tear of military use compared to a new-fangled compound bow.

There are too many moving parts that are essential on a compound bow, therefore, too many things that can go wrong. Only two things can go wrong with a traditional bow; it snaps, or the string snaps. Everything else is a minor detriment that is easily repairable.

Also, the precise milling required of a compound bow combined with the materials would make the cost of manufacture astronomical compared to a traditional bow.

Regarding practice and use, it may be easier to train with since all the weight of the pull is reduced, but then you are making it so the trainees can only use that kind of bow. Train them with traditional bows, then they can use any kind they like because they will have developed the skills and strengths needed to operate the basest form of archery. Also the pull weight of most modern compound bows are only 80~ pounds, they were never designed to kill anything that was trying to kill them in return. Plus, the modern arrows needed for a compound would be totally useless against armor, as they would shatter before they could make use of their inertia.

In regard to COMPOSITE bows, they again, are just traditional bows but are more costly, heavier and require much more skilled artisans to create a satisfactory composite compared to a satisfactory traditional bow.
Perhaps we could make use of traditional longbows while in the field, for their ease of maintenance and lower cost if they're lost, while giving compound bows to the town guard and local patrols, where their improved power would be of great benifit and they can be maintained easily.
Can I put in my two cents?

Traditional English longbows, near as I can tell, had a poundage of 80 to 120lbs, just before I say this. Ahem...

The compound bow is the equivalent to a sniper's weapon, on the medieval battlefield: deadly, accurate and powerful, but too much of a bitch to maintain and use en-mass for the regular infantry.

Also, COMPOSITE are the bows that the elves use. Elves are surprisingly strong, for their light builds, but their musculature just doesn't let them use proper longbows. I mentioned in thread two that some elves turned green with horror at the mention of medieval longbowmen with deformed bone structures from longbow use.

The Men-At-Arms are meant to be a field force, as well as defensive... But this is about the first point I've seen made for this argument that actually makes sense to me. Well put. In a siege, I guess generalisation IS superior. We have the levy, but it still makes a difference if the pikemen also know how to use a bow (or at least a Mithterrahn crossbow, which is much easier to learn to use, if you specialise in something else). Well-made point.

By the way, I'm sorry if I get under people's skin; please believe me when I say I truly don't mean to!

From as far as I can tell, the poundage went up to, and past the near 200~ pound mark. That's why they are finding medieval villagers with spinal deformities from using such a high poundage longbow.

Compound bows: Accurate yes, more powerful, no. I can out shoot 80 pound compound bows by nearly 70 yards, and while they will be more accurate, the distance is what you need for a volly.
There you go then! A compromise! A few compound bows with aluminium parts issued to a handful of the light cavalry, to serve as an accurate sniper's weapon, while the rank-and-file yeomen train with the longbow and all the rest of the Men-At-Arms either learn the basics (say, one day in a week, as opposed to the yeomanry's six) of the longbow, or just use Mithterrahn-style crossbows in a siege.

I think this leaves everyone happy? What's important is that the setting works for STORIES, after all, not as an exercise in logic, mainly because the real world and all things associated with it suck and we all know this...

I think somewhere along the way, we maybe lost the focus on 'High adventure, bros, booze, treasure and lovely waifus'... What we have is by no means 'bad', but it's changed and adapted... There's still room for both though; slightly gritty, but mostly optimistic realism AND complete idealist fantasy.

I will say this: I love what we've all made here. I really do. Even when I argue with you folks, I love that everyone's so passionate about this. That's a true mark of how much everyone enjoys this setting; how much they're willing to fight for it.
It would be quite easy and cheap to train the soldiers initially on recurves, actually, and then give them a compound as general issue gear. This would make emergency use of traditional bows possible, but if you manage to keep discipline of equipment maintenance, there's no reason why compounds would be so difficult. Firearms would require even more care and maintenance, but we field those same situations. The arrow thing is complete poppycock as well. Compounds can sling any arrow that a traditional bow can, except faster and harder. Whether or not it can pierce armor is entirely dependent on the arrow.

As for the cams, yes, that's the most difficult part, but all it really takes is the development of one properly adjustable cam and then you make molds. With a proper age hardening aluminum alloy, mass production wouldn't be difficult after a few months.

I'm going to be as clear and concise as I can about this: No traditional bow can in any way, shape, or form, put the same amount of energy per pound (or newton) of draw weight than a properly tuned compound bow. This is basic mathamatics. The accuracy does not come from the strings, it comes from the fact that it creates a flatter trajectory with the superior force put upon it and the let-off of the cams that allow for extended holding the arrow at full draw without fatigue. Compound bows are statistically superior in every way shape and form over traditional bows of equal draw weight. There is no arguing this. It's SCIENCE.

I mean, after all, compound bows were invented in the 1960s, just 50 years ago. This is modern technology made manifest because outrealmers came to the land of the past, kind of like how we brought gunpowder.

Well, tell that to the people I compete with. Skill comes much more into play than the technology in my opinion, and I will not back down from my stance that longbows can throw a stick further than a compound. Also, the mathematics are fact, you are correct, but this does not compensate for the fact that if you are outfitting 400 archers with bows, you want ones that are reliable. We have no forms of mass production, no factories and no automation. We do not have the material wealth and populace size to have that kind of manufacturer be .

I have used both in my time, for hunting and for target shoots, and the longbow always seems to do better in my hands. In a hunting scenario, there is a reason most modern bow-hunting is done in tree-stands. The compound is not as elegant and simple as a traditional bow, and lends itself to stationary and precise aim.

Also, the process of mining the materials needed for Aluminum, let alone the process of accurately measuring and combining them would be quite difficult with the resources we have at hand. Not to mention, the smelting of aluminum produces highly, HIGHLY toxic fumes if uncontrolled.

Ehh. I don't want to start anything man, I am looking from a medieval logistical standpoint, and the compound bow does not fit in that equation very well.
Guys, seriously, I'm the argumentative and arrogant one here and I'M suggesting a compromise: Something has gone very badly wrong. Let's just agree to stop fighting over the issue here. There's a compromise right here: >>20992754 so can we place let it drop and move on?
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Ehhhhhh.... Fine. I am an example of my own hypocritical tendencies.

Honestly, this whole thing stems from people I know, always telling me how their compounds are better, and it is a deep and simmering rage within me.

I'll drop it, sorry Fearghaile.

But my Yoemen of the guard are going to have Longbows dammit.
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Allow me to interrupt with story time.
I was staring at a patch of darkness.

I'd been awake for some time; Jaculye was snuggled up against me, and my arm was around her shoulder. I'd covered us both in the blanket we'd rested on as much as possible in addition to my coat. She had pulled most of herself closer to us, and I'd worked a second blanket out of my bag to throw over her. It's a weird sensation to feel someone breathe with all of their body. The sensation of her lung or lungs slowly inflating ad deflating from the crook of my arm all the way down to my left leg was oddly comforting. I could see why other women would enjoy the presence of big strong men sleeping next to them; having a big strong person next to you as you rested was comforting in a way.

That the big strong person had lost her shawl and halter somewhere under the blankets was a fact I'd been struggling to ignore for some time. Hence the looking into the darkness thing.

Magic wielders often have talents, particularly the Sensate and Autists. It has to do with why we can use magic in the first place I imagine, a part of our brain that instinctively works the process of what would be a spell into the very fabric of our being. In my case, it was what led me to staring at the patch of darkness as the sunrise started. At a guess, because my own magic was so deeply tired to my body, I had a sense for other bodies being near. Nothing precise or particularly useful; it pretty much required quiet meditation and a calm state of mind, but I could feel animal life if it wasn't too far away. In this case, in that patch of darkness. Since I couldn't sleep, I was keeping myself occupied by sitting and waiting to find out exactly what it was.
I'd often wondered if Sir Kitril could feel magnetic north, or had a sense for iron or lodestone deposits, perhaps even hematite. It was a matter I'd never thought about bringing up with him before but it could possibly help us understand a little more about the nature of our talents and power, and it might even prove useful at some point, especially in the odd lives we of TeeGee possessed.

Jaculye stirred slowly, and pressed herslf closer to me. I repeated a mantra in my head, “she's just gettign warm, she's just getting warm, she's just getting warm” because I was only wearing a light woolen shirt, and that was all that was between her breasts and mine. The last thing I wanted is her tasting how I felt about the entire situation.

“What's that?” she murmured sleepily.

“I don't know, it's not light enough for me to make out what it is.” Though I could no longer sense its alive-ness, the dark blotch, spiky and fluffy in weird ways, was still the focus of my attention.

“No, I mean that noise you're making.” She was slowly rising, supporting herself on her arms and looking at me, her brass-sheened eyes filled with concern.

“Oh. That.”
I was softly wheezing with every breath. The cold hadn't done me any good at all, and not moving around as I attempted to sleep had let my lungs settle too much to avoid the low, rattling wheeze from permeating my chest as she'd slept against it. Each time I spoke there was a pause as I drew more air than I absolutely needed to in order to speak. “It'll clear up, once....I have some tea.” Each breath was energy, and I would expend huge amounts just breathing if I didn't get more tea. The myth of all asthmatics being fat was more a result of misinformation than most people thought.

The bird's nest I'd been staring at for the past two hours was now a blue-grey mass of leaves and twigs on a set of branches, the sun not yet risen, but twilight making a clear gray world out of the forest. There was a bird, some kind of nut eater from the beak, that was fluffed out, probably protecting her eggs from the cold. I didn't mention it to Jaculye. She was worried enough without me dragging it out and waving it like a flag in front of her.

She slowly rose to her full height and looked at the embers of the fire, still fitfully glowing. I rose like an old woman, with much effort and stooped, and took a ceramic bowl from my bag, filling it with water from the small wineskin I was carrying. That was one thing about the Frozen Wastes – water was easily come by, though it had to be filtered and boiled more often than not. I let the water heat and threw twice the usual number of leaves in it. It would be barely drinkable, but it would help my lungs open up. I glanced at Jaculye, who was watching, her eyes soft and her expression strange.
“Don't bother.”


“Don't bother. I chose this, so pity is out of place. Don't tell me you're sorry for dragging me out here. You need my help, and I offered it to you. Telling me I can go back now is a joke, and I've survived this long, so it's not like I'm going to die anytime soon. So please save the pity for something that deserves it.” Her stunned expression made me give my sharp, single bark of laughter that was about all I could manage. “No, I'm not a mind reader,” I told her, though her expression clearly told me she thought otherwise since I was answering her thoughts as opposed to a question. “It's something that a lot of people do. I'm used to it, so it's predictable. Nothing magical about it.”

I was edging around a few truths, but they were things she didn't need to know about. I wasn't lying, really, but I didn't want anyone knowing they could command my help just by telling me I had to. That was acceptable within the Rules; I knew what sort of fate awaited me if I broke the Rules, so that wasn't going to happen.

Breaking the Rules was srius bznss.
“Also, you're naked.” I had been trying to avoid looking, but no one has that much willpower. She was just lightly curved in the right sorts of ways, not entirely boyish, but not very voluptuous. Her breasts were bigger than mine, but not by much and I'm not particularly well endowed anyways; it made me question again exactly how old she was, and whether her youthful appearance was related to her species or her age. The startled slither and puffs of bark and dirt as she scrambled to find her shawl and halter were amusing, and I smiled to myself, not needing to imagine the blush I had seen before.

She really was beautiful.

Putting that thought right out of my head, I picked up the hot cup with my left hand, my fingertips inured to what would have been painful by frostbite damage and and working with hot glass before I was victim of my own xenophilia. I drained the tea quickly, letting the heat soothe my chest and trying to choke down the extra bitter liquid fast. I lowered the cup, testing my teeth for moss; strong tea always made my teeth feel fuzzy. I glanced at the leaves, and frowned.

Being terrible at reading tea leaves, I tossed them into the coals, where they hissed softly. Jaculye had gathered her wits and dignity, though she was still blushing and fairly cold from the looks of things. I sighed and pulled out a shell comb bought at dear price from one of the merchants, and yanked it through my hair. It wasn't too bad yet, but I'd be looking for some clean water to at least sponge bathe in soon. I rubbed the comb clean on the inside of my shirt and offered it to the lamia. She stared at me for a long moment, and I wasn't sure if I'd done something horribly offensive that I didn't know about.
I started to withdraw it but she took it, carefully, and stared at me as she combed her hair, her bright eyes starting to shine as the sun rose. Feeling vaguely embarrassed, I folded the blankets neatly after shaking them out, the material squeezing into compact, light bundles. I just didn't have the stamina to carry too much, so I spent a large portion of what I earned on very expensive tools such as the warm but light and compact blankets, the nearly indestructible ceramic bowl, and other small and useful things that made the load lighter. It also influenced my choices in exploration, such as places where water could be easily found and there were plenty of edible plants.

The Wastes could be fairly hospitable to the knowledgeable traveler, and the Kanin didn't mind helping those who were genuinely interested in where they had come from. I pulled a wax packet and opened it, looking at how many leaves I had in it. There were plenty, and I was glad I'd remembered to restock. The Felim healer had showed me these, and I – along with a large number of other females of TeeGee – was eternally grateful for the knowledge. Nearly every home had a Friendship Plant growing in one of the room, usually brought to the house and given to the woman or women of the house by other women. I also took out the small spade I brought for this as well as other purposes.

“I'm going to go over there and do my toilet, Jaculye. I'll be right back.” I set my bag down, and she stared after me as though I'd gone insane. Which made my skin crawl after a moment, believe me. After completing my toiletry and burying it along with a few of the soft leaves that almost had me thanking the local plant deities for their existence.
When I returned, Jaculye was sitting on herself again, which I would have imagined couldn't be comfortable, but clearly was something that didn't bother her. I picked up my bag and offered her the packet of Friendship Leaves, and she returned my comb with something approaching reverence, using both hands. “Do you need these?” She shook her head, and while I wasn't surprised, her subdued, anxious attitude had me concerned.

Looking at her calmly merely made her blush and look down again, and I smiled and shrugged, leaving the matter to her to clear up. “I'll eat as we walk. I am going to guess you're not hungry.” She shook her head, and started slowly moving in the direction we'd been heading in before. I dug out a piece of waybread and munched on it thoughtfully, washing it down with a single swallow from the flash of spirits, which made my eyes water but finished what the tea had started.

It was several hours before she spoke, and when she did it wasn't much of a surprise. “Aren't you going to ask how I didn't get lost?” she asked me. The Frozen Waste was not exactly a maze, but the canopy could get thick; more often it was simply the sameness of the place that could get someone lost. That and Fey trods or faerie rings.

“No need.”

The simple, straightforward answer bothered her a lot, I could tell. I sighed. “How far away from your egg and the spriggan are we?”
She looked at me, abashed. “Not too far. A few hours at your pace.” About 10 miles, I presumed. I pointed over at some rocks, ones which had received a good dose of the sun and weren't chilled any longer. Following my lead she slithered over and up onto them, and watched me pensively as I climbed onto one to sit down and look at her seriously.

“I know you're frightened and confused, but you have to understand, I've dealt with the Fey before, many times. Both good and bad dealings. I know you didn't find me entirely by accident, or by asking around as much as you would have if you were thinking straight. You had an idea of what a sorceress or wizard or witch would be like, and you looked around for one. You traveled through the Frozen Waste alone and without help or weapons, and nothing got in your way or troubled you – not even when you were close to the Knights Harem and TeeGee. No one really asked if you were a stranger, or challenged you thinking you were dangerous, or even looked twice at your strangeness. You don't look like most lamias I've seen, after all, and I'm sure others would have been curious. But no one stopped you, no monsters got in your way, no one tried to even question you, did they.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she nodded mutely.
“I imagine he said something on the lines of, 'make sure you find a powerful wizard to help you, mother' or 'I hope you can find something better than these fools.' Yes?” She nodded, rapidly, her eyes watery and bright as tears started to flow along her cheeks. I kept my heart in check, and also the other, wicked thing that surged up at the sight. “It's called a geas, and unlike the ones an Autistic Wizard can create, Fey geasa are more than just commands to do such and such. They actually affect everything around you, guiding your choices and keeping you from straying from the path they lay out in front of you.”

Her hands covered her mouth and her expression was devastated. It was hard to stay calm and collected under the flow of tears and her terrible shock, but I'd had a lot of practice keeping my emotions in check. Anything that disrupted my emotional equilibrium would cause me pain as my body's emotional response caused my condition to worsen. 'Cry and die,' though it wouldn't actually kill me. Just make my life suck a lot more.

I smiled gently, reassuringly as I could. “What he did was to cast a spell around you that would help you find the kind of person you needed for help against him. It was still your choice, but he made it certain you would definitely find a witch, or a wizard, or a mage of some sort, and be able to bring them back safely. Didn't it strike you as strange that nothing has attacked us at all? We haven't seen one wolf, one gator, not even a merchant or scout who took any sort of interest in us in the entire time since we've left the castle.” Understanding started to dawn in her eyes, and she started to speak. I cut her off.
“There are Rules the Fey, any Fey must obey. They don't have laws or any codes or morals or ethics, except those that determine who wins and who loses and how much they win or lose. He wants your egg. Yet he can't just take it without giving you something of value for it. But he doesn't have anything that valuable, so he had to make it a contest.” She settled down, listening hard now. It was a relief to see her actually thinking instead of just feeling the blind panic and need that had fueled the geas and likely prevented her from asking for proper help. “He has to make it a fair contest, because if he doesn't, some other Fey can take it from him unfairly. But if he makes you afraid and unable to think clearly, that's not cheating, that's just you falling for a trick and him getting away with something. By the Rules, that's perfectly fair.”

“But what's going to happen now? What happens if he beats you like the others?” She wrung her hands and I took a deep breath, even though it hurt a little. “Does that mean he gets to keep my egg?”
“If he defeats me, yes, he gets to keep your egg, unless you can offer him something more valuable to him than your egg is.” I looked into her soft, tear filled, lovely eyes. “But you have something that valuable. If he wins and keeps your egg, you can make a bargain with him. Serve him for three years and three weeks and three days.” I was making the numbers up, actually, but they would appeal to the spriggan, because he was already using three contests with three challenges each. It seemed like a safe bet. “Tell him you'll serve him that long, if he will return your egg to you safely and unharmed. Just like that, nothing more, and nothing less. He can't say 'no' but he can make a counter offer. Don't bargain with your life, your heart, or anything but service. And when you serve, do it right. Serve him well and faithfully. He'll have to give your egg back safely and unharmed, and let you go at the end of the service.”

Jaculye was trembling, her eyes glittering pools of misery and hope. Either-or, they were often the same thing. “if I win, then that won't matter. But you still have to be careful. Don't thank him for returning your egg. Don't attack him. Just take your egg and we'll leave. Don't take any gifts he offers you himself. If he leaves something behind, that's all right.”

“I don't want ANYTHING from him, I just want my egg!” she said with such vehemence that I recoiled a little myself. She was clenching her hands so hard that I could see blood welling from her palms.
I took her hands and gently forced her fingers open. She'd cut them deep, her nails leaving tiny crescents along her palms. Her hands were warm, and I wrapped them in some binding cloths, and tied them off. “Don't leave these anywhere. Give them to me when the bleeding is stopped.” The blood on the ground and stones was harmless. ~Let it feed the little gods there,~ I murmured to myself, taking away any power it could have over her, even if it was just in my head. Rules.

I clambered off the rocks carefully and started walking again, and she sniffled and rubbed her face with the back of her linen wrapped hands. As she slithered and I walked she calmed down measurably. “What happened to your hand?” she asked softly. I hesitated, but answered.

“When we first arrived, the castle was more of a ruin than anything else, and the winter was very bitter. I get cold easily, and I got frost bitten. My lungs can't handle the cold well so I couldn't move around enough to keep warm, and I spent a lot of my time telling people how to do little thing, useful things that made me useful enough that they could spare me blankets and a little food and water even though I couldn't work.” My childhood having been spent buried in books in libraries and by myself at home, I had more than a passing knowledge of medicine, plants and fungi. I had a lot of esoteric know-how as well: how to make glass lenses using potter's wheels, metal and pitch; my knowledge of combat was enough to help out more than one person who didn't want to be a guard but wanted to learn how to fight; the discovery of the Fey and how they were similar – and different – than the ones of home made me an accidental expert; and later, I learned how to make magic happen. With so few able to use it, that alone had paid off every bit of resource that had been given up to keep me alive, in the eyes of others.
Not my own, perhaps, but then, I have a few issues.

“They were far gone, so the Felim who helped us had to remove them. And a few toes too. But I lived. I always live.” My tenacity was one of the most fearsome things I had learned. Forcing myself to breathe day after day as a child had given me a profound amount of both patience and willpower. Being here had been a tragic throwback to my childhood, but here there were no hospitals to rescue me should I ever truly suffer an attack. I had the nightshade in a pouch on a thong around me neck, but it was the last resort, because it might just kill me instead of saving me from my constricted lungs.

No, I never have those thoughts. Never.

“I actually was lucky. There are a few who were much worse off.” We walked in silence for a while.

“I'm sorry,” she said softly.

“Don't be. I've seen wonderful things, met wonderful, beautiful people, and done things I'd never imagined I'd do, just imagined. I may not be a knight, but I do my little parts, and I at least manage a few bits of glory here and there.” I didn't have to force any cheer, really. It was true, and despite the pain and the wars, I was happy that I'd progressed as much as I did. Besides, I was a witch. That was cool all by itself, when I thought about it.
“No, I mean for putting you in this danger. I....I don't even know your name.”

“You can call me Silver.”

“Ah, a wise woman!” I turned my attention to the hill that rose up from a circle of trees, the megaliths rising from it like angular, spectral monks circling an altar. The chortling, gleeful voice was so very not human, and it matched the weird visage that it came from perfectly. “I will call you Silver too, then!” Jaculye rose up to a towering menace, but her eyes were wide and bright with fear and anger. I leaned on my staff and took a slow, deep breath.

It was the spriggan. The journey was over, and I had given my guide her story; now was time for battle.

This would suck.

Gah, you just had to end it there, didn't you.
I'm eagerly awaiting the next bit.
I didn't expect to, just how it turned out.
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Well, considering we're smelting aluminum anyway, and there are dozens of other excellent applications of a dural-type aluminum alloy, I'm certain that this process was perfected quite a while ago. That's not something we have to dwell on. Moving on:

>lends itself to stationary and precise aim
Which is exactly why they'd be perfect for archers on the ramparts, which is exactly where they'll see most of their action. I can see why you'd want to train them in traditional bows, and that would certainly have to be part of the regiment, but as an effective weapon for anti-siege warfare, compounds would be the better choice.

No offense to your personal choice here, I'm just thinking of the bigger picture. I'm certain that some archers would be allowed to opt out of compounds if they prefer it, since the bow strength won't be maximized, but when you need a 5'3", 95lbs when wet Kanin girl (exaggeration!) to fire a bow on the same level as a 6'3" Knight Harem who practices with his longbow every day, there's really only one choice here. I'd recommend it for general use if only due to its ease of use. There will be those that will always prefer a traditional bow, matter what, so it's not like those things would be stomped out. That make sense?

Dragoons carry dragon pistols, as their standard ranged weapon. Basically handheld blunderbusses. Pic related. Light bows would certainly be in the arsenal for mounted infantry guerrilla tactics, but in the field, there are better choices. I can bet the Blades would take to the compound bow though, it's a perfect counter to Elfish sharpshooters without the noise and smoke of a rifle.
Wonderful job, as always. Nothing like a fairy story to scare the crap out of me. Big, scary monsters and demons, I hear about and just start analysing how to defeat. The Fair Folk just... Are (capital A) and that scares the heck out of me!

Also; splendid timing on the story, I could not have asked for a better distraction.

I guess you are right, even though it does not make sense to me.
Thank you. Obviously a think bnear and dear to my rotten little heart.
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My only problem with this story is that every time I read "spriggan", I find myself thinking of pic related.
That's literaly the only problem, though, and it's my problem anyway. This is master writfagging, here. You're awesome.
There are as many translations to spriggan as there are to 'god'. An earth spirit's an earth spirit.
I know, it's just that my mind made the connection between the word and the monster over the 600-odd hours I spent playing morrowind.

Yes, I very much enjoyed it. It is certainly a different style than much of the other stories that have been told, and is very articulate while still being easy to relate to.

Very well done indeed.
That would definitely do it. thank you for the appreciation, by the by.

There's a couple of people who are seeing an anime supersoldier, undoubted.
This is a bit off topic, but has anyone considered backing up these threads? Looking that suptg, many of the more recent threads have been getting a whole lot of downvotes, and I'm all paranoid that they'll get wiped over it.
So, question.

Who would be the one to replace me, should I be unable to act as Captain/Be away from the castle?
Oh wonderful. I guess there's always some jackasses who don't want anyone having any fun.

Polite sage for off-topic.
Your lieutenant, aka, the right-hand man who will serve as your most trusted officer, kind of like how Sir Perrin of the Colors is responsible for the Dragoons while Lem is away doing things. You can make up another character on your own, or you can choose an existing character. Up to you.

If anyone else wants to do it, I can throw it in with the rest of the resources.

Also, wiki related, we should probably start building pages for characters with more than one-off stories and a specific Races of TeeGee page so that we can wrap that sort of thing up.

I would write a page for myself, but I cannot into wiki-ing.
Anyone still here? Or should I wait to post my next bit of a story?

I'm still alive. Nothing has killed me yet.

1 person is better than none. Get ready Fluffy, this one is juuuust for you!

Sitting atop my tower I gazed out over the plains and forests below, staring off into the wild distances that lay beyond the stoic walls of Castle Waifu. I had been her resident Captain of the guard for nearly five years now, and in that time I have not ventured far from her stony embrace. The furthest I had gone is just to the outlying farmsteads and hunters’ posts, and the wanderlust was starting to build. During my time on the walls, I had nothing but time to think about what I could be doing, luckily enough for my sanity I was usually pre-occupied with other business. Incoming immigrants, refugees, administrative and logistical matters that was equally boring. Now, I shouldn’t say that welcoming newcomers to our home is boring, but it does not have the same… “thrill” as adventuring. I had old epics and songs playing in my head from my days before I came to this realm, songs of glory and battle. Personally, I had my taste and fill of needless killing during the Ork invasion, but there was something that still simmered deep within my being, something that craved the act of battle, the valour and the bravado. I had not come here a warrior, nor do I see myself a man of dealing needless now, the desire to protect is stronger than those feelings. Yet still, I longed for travel… perhaps a “vacation”. Yes, a “vacation sounded nice.”

I had been thinking of ways to get out of the castle, in a responsible way, for my entire shift. It all came down to one problem. Who would take my place should I be gone for an indiscriminate amount of time? The choice became clear, Sir Kasai, the Sergeant-Major of the castle guard. He was a good man with a good head on his shoulders. If it had to be someone, it would be him. A few days had passed since the initial idea, and I had been secretly making contact with a trusted few about my departure. None of the guards nor administrators knew of my coming departure, and with a good word from Sir Kasai, I came home from my post for the last time. Evette had packed all of our essentials for travelling, as well as all the money I had accrued in my post as Guard Captain. In the night, I closed the door to my modest home by the wall, my neighbor nodding to us as we walked past. Opening the small sallet-door on the North-Western wall, we stepped through the opening to begin our own adventure.

It was odd, seeing Evette in her armor again. Not since the Ork invasion had she worn it so completely, and it was comforting to see she still felt natural in it. We scurried off to the forests edge, where we checked to see if we were being followed. When there were no signs of peering eyes, we started to make our way westward, planning to cut across the plains once we met the Dryder lands. The plan was to make it to the Free Kingdoms, either by going through Mirthterrah, or taking the Dark Mountains and Halfling shires. Walking quietly, we put some distance between ourselves and the castle walls before we started to speak.

“Well, this is it Giovanni. You’ve finally gotten your wish.” Evette said, her face hidden by the familiar green embroidered hood. It evoked many nostalgic memories of the time before she had become my waifu.

“We will not be gone forever my love. We will return… sometime.” I replied.

It was then that I turned to her, seeing the sheen of her eyes sparkle in the moonlight. She was an amazing housewife, but that life was not for her. It was then that I realised she felt it too, the call to adventure. I was about to raise my hand to remove my hat when I realised I had left it at home and slightly frowned. A plain gray hood had replaced my rather flamboyant hat, but as luck would have it, I found a feather I could stick in the hood so all was well. The night progressed without a hitch as we walked through the foliage of the forest, until we turned South-West to cross the plains.

It seems that some enterprising evil-doers had been travelling across the pass between forests, waiting for travellers amongst the widely used trails. Evette, who had been walking a pace ahead of me suddenly dropped to all fours with catlike grace and swiftness, I, not so much. The bandits had been waiting for someone, and we had sprung their trap. They began to run towards us, but Evette had a different plan for them. She shot off around a hill light a bolt of lightning, and disappeared over the top. I had drawn my longsword and waited in a combat stance. Three of them were sneering as they closed in around me and began to slowly circle around me, various malicious weapons in front of them.

“Lookit what we have ‘ere eh boys? Issit won of them knights?” one of them spitted.
“I don’t rightly know, ain’t they s’posed to have them freakish monsters followin’ ‘em round everywhere?” another mocked.

The third was about to speak, opening his mouth to spout some slanderous item no doubt, but as his mouth opened, it just hung open, no voice of his own. The third bandit fell to the ground, dead as a stone. The other two panicked for a moment, and I took that moment to engage the first bandit. While we had our fight, Evette had sidled up behind the second bandit and whispered in his ear:

“Yes, we freakish monsters are never far away…” and with that, she slit his throat, stifling his cry with her hand.

After a short burst of swings, the bandit lost his solid footing, and I took advantage by swinging my blade in a quick upwards slice, catching his side on the tip of my blade. He reeled back; teeth gritted in pain, but remained composed. We traded blows and parries back and forth for a few more minutes, my armor keeping my alive as a few of his strikes would have pierced my ribs if not for the sheets of metal. The bandit spun in place; send his blade flashing through the night faster than I could bring my heavier blade to bear. His short blade caught my unprotected face, leaving a red trail from the bridge of my nose across my right cheek under my eye, and I reeled away from the strike. He was about to give me another stab when I swept the ground with my foot, toppling him over. I was beyond mercy at that point, I could not control myself. I felt the songs pounding in my head and my heart, driving my hands to their grim duty. I dug the blade into his chest, twisting the blade cruelly as I plunged it deeper. The deep slice on my face had covered my face in blood, which cooled my face in the night air.

I was breathing deeply as Evette gently coerced me away from the dead bandit, concern in her eyes.

“Giovanni. Look at me, ple- Giovanni.” She said, gently prodding me with a finger as she tried to snap me out of me.

I came to for a moment, and stared down at the dead bandit, a large gory hole in his chest catching my attention.

“Are you going to be okay? Are you sure you want to do this?” Evette asked.
“Yes….” I paused for a moment to collect myself, embarrassed at my lack of self control. “Yes.”

To be continued...

So no more Homeguard captaining for you?

Not now my friend, I am off on my own adventure. I will return...
i read that as
>a large glory hole in his chest catching my attention.
i think i need to lay off the porn

By the summer of 6 A.A.?

Who knows.... It's the fall of 5A.A as the time of departure, if I didn't write that, and I don't think I did.
Is there a set date/year right now? I know you're all using the Oblivion calendar, but not sure if you're time-stamping everything in a certain order.
Bouncing around.
Not really. You can put a story in whenever you want, if my understanding's correct.

>that feel when All I have written is a fight scene

I kind of want to post what I have down so far, but at the same time, it feels kind of wonky doing that. You guys have a preference?
Mmk. Working on a dryad piece. Another day to make it look nice.
It didn’t take very long for me to get an idea.
Glancing at the loose stones at my feet, I crouched down, grabbing a few pebbles roughly the size of ping-pong balls. Good for a distraction, if I had a spot to throw them. So far, all I could think of was the heads of the two lowlifes. While distracting, I wasn’t that confident in my aim…
I glanced at my surroundings, trying to see if I had anything else I could use, be it loose or a part of the cave.
Wait a minute, I thought, shifting my feet to get a better balance as I leaned over to get a better view. Isn’t that a—
“Oi, hear that?” the one with his back turned to you asks, looking around the cave. “Sounds like something moved.”
He wasn’t the only one. The half-elf seemed to snap out of her trance, eyes sweeping her surroundings. Smartly, she decided to not draw attention to herself. The last thing she needed was them noticing her awaken.
“Yeah… HEY! THE HELL’RE YOU DOIN’ SNEAKIN’ AROUND HERE?!” Shouted his partner, spotting me even as his prisoner did, her eyes going wide. Rising, he grabbed his club and started forward, even as his compatriot, charged me.
Well shit, no time to plan now.
Jettisoning the stones at the larger man, I raised my guard and shifted my stance, ready to fight. Back on earth, I was something of a martial artist. You’d be surprised how often that training would come in handy here, especially once I found myself a pair of cestuses. Those studs got me out of more trouble than I cared to admit.
Within seconds, the closer man entered striking range. In other words, it was go time.
Well, if it makes sense to do so. Honestly, if you think the fight scene can stand on its own, please, by all means post it. If not, keep working at it. You can do it!

Also, I updated the Wiki a bit. Every RED LINK is a new page waiting to be created. Get crack'n!
First things first: When you’ve got two guys coming at you, make sure neither of them manage to get at you at once. Either run, separate them, or take one out of the fight.
Given the situation, it wasn’t really a surprise which one I chose. Shifting my back foot, I turned my stance sideways, now perpendicular to his. He kept coming at me, bringing one fist back. I took an almost sadistic joy in what happened next.
Raising my front leg and tilting the toes back, I lashed out with a side kick, catching him right in the solar plexus. I could practically feel the wind being knocked out of him as his own momentum pushed his body into a collision with my heel. The abrupt attack stopped him dead, as he collapsed onto his knees, futilely gasping for air. A swift elbow to the temple put him out.
In the few short seconds it took for this to play out, the other man reached me, swinging his club like a baseball bat. It was only instinct that saved me from getting my skull forcibly removed from my body, as I stepped back, just out of range.
I couldn’t let him get off another swing at me, he was too close now. Instead, I burst forward even as he brought the club around, getting too close for him to use the weapon effectively. Clasping my hands around his neck, I drove two knees into him, the first to the diaphragm, the second to the groin.
His club dropped to the floor, even as his voice did the opposite. Releasing my grip on him, I finished with a quick double leg takedown, lift, and slam. Knocked out by the impact, he wasn’t waking up any time soon.
Good. Threats neutralized.
Blugh. Thought I broke the text up there. Wasn't expecting walls.
I don't suppose you can recommend some fairy stories to me. It sounds like you've heard/read a lot, and over in the Americas we've generally reduced the fey to helpful spirits who give you fukkin everything at their best, or impish children who pull your hair and put pigtails in ink at the worst.
Look up some old European folk tales and such.

Just look up the Grimm fairy tales. Good and.. well Grim.
Fairy nough.
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That was just fael
Just want everyone to remember that if you add a new page to the Wiki (http://1d4chan.org/wiki/Harem_Knights), prefix it with "Harem Knights:" so that there's no confusion. Look at Sir Fearghaile's page for a basic format for character pages. I'll probably start work on the Races and Factions pages next.
Maybe I should do another piece on Anor Londo and the Abyss. I almost feel bad for using such grand names and putting so little effort into them.
Just about finished with my next piece, but I wanted to ask you something.

I checked up on Dark Souls and found lots of references in your stories, but what exactly is "the Abyss"?

Is it a Hell-pit? Another pocket Dimension full of Demons? A portal to the mythical Last Days of Demonhood?
The assumption I'm going on is that it's a lower plain inhabited by creatures who corrupt living creatures who come in contact with it. That level of existence was just unknown until we were brought into this world due to some random tearing of the veil or whatever magical term you want to use.

There were also a few spells that originated from its study, but anyone who has them either doesn't know how to use magic or was buried when the city was burned and collapsed.

Most of the lore on it from the game revolves around the dark soul and its desire to be reunited with its sum components, but that doesn't mesh very well with this setting.

Basically: bloated headed mutants with very unusual magical powers formed from what used to be the citizens, giant monkey thing that also used to be human is somewhere below, they decided to say 'fuck this' and leave after he died.

Still haven't decided what was in the box I got sent to that city to retrieve...a sorcery catalyst maybe...or maybe just something made from the silver-viened wood that the local lord owned?
A lower plain inhabited by mutant creatures?
Corrupts living creatures?
Unusual powers?

Sounds like the Underdark!
More specifically, the Illithid.
Join them in their lovable antics!
Fun for the whole [Family]!
If you go to a library, you should be able to locate the old Time Life books on supernatural things - there is one called Faeries. Also, Brian Frouds book of Faeries is an excellent source, he knows his stuff.

For actual faerie tales the Original Grimm's Book of Faerie Tales is quite the horrifying read.
Sort of, sort of not. Ilitchids want order, the Abyss could care less about order.

Also, think less unusual powers as magic with something a little extra to it. I should have something on it up in a little while.
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That's actually how I advertise the stories, remember?

Maybe I should have put this pic up first.
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Due to the difficulty in translating these particular documents, as the recording medium is a collection of humming rocks, many words and concepts have been substituted with [similar] for ease of reading. There is further difficulty, given their unique anatomy, as many as four “sentences” are superimposed on each other’s sound waves, overlapping the noise.

This selection of recordings detail the events that led up to the discovery of the Journal by the Illithids, their true name being a horrible cacophony of bubbles and squirts. As the recordings have a diverse and disconnected method of data storage, fragments had to be pieced anachronically.

{A small, pitch black stone. Something within vibrates in tune with the cosmos}

Many [years] ago, there was a War. Fought on so many levels and forms, that reality itself had begun to warp and tear. When the two major sides had come to a ceasefire, the damage was already done. Holes and eddies opened up for all manner of [Outsiders] to enter and exit as they wished. The Fae, the [Shadow-things], the [???=Old-Realm]. But this song is sung for us.

Splitting our great [Mind], we tore open a portal in reality, and flung it through the [Rift], where our song was unsung. Though stunted, we shall grow.

>[We] are the [Family].
>[All] shall be [one].
>[None] shall be [lonely].
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{A slimy, rubbery fossil. It feels unnatural to look at, and hums discordantly.}

-tunk, tunk. It's on, everybody!


"Why do we need these, again? Isn't the [Centre] enough?"

We "need" these because the [Centers] are no longer safe.
>This environment is too hostile.
>We need many backups in case one or all [Centers] are attacked.
>It gives us something to do with our time.

(Distant sound) "Do a recap!"


I was gonna! Sheesh...
>Implying it isn't the first step necessary.
>Implying I wasn't already going to do it.

The whole universe was in a hot, dense state-

"Too far!" "Stop being pre-historic!" "Skip to the good stuff!"

There was a War Among Stars
>Where Demons fought against Gods
>Where Gods fought against Demons
>In an epic mythos fight that caused the Long Night

They ripped a hole in time and space
>We peeked through and saw a nice place
>Let's spread the [Family] to find more [friends]
>Split our [Mind] in twain to start again

We came through and took simple shapes
>They were among the oldest forms
>Tentacles are in season this epoch
>We landed on some, and thought, why not?

But we're stuck in the ground, so far beneath starlight
>It was the closest exit, were you going to pay tolls?
>It's so underground, they'll never hear of it.
>It's the [Underdark]!
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{An old pottery shard, hardened in slime. It is very old, dating before Mirthterran civilisation}

-just no way we'll make do with these few races. The fungi have no brains, the fishmen already worship us, and I have no idea what [those things that hide in the walls] are.
>-need more to join the [Family]. [Humanoid] forms are more pliant, preferably with brains.

"Good progress is being made on the fishmen"
>Who would have thought they would embrace [Family] so easily
>And the crabmen, jellyfishmen, [Those that Dwell in Coral Palaces]...

But we are still stifled by the meagre resources on tentacle in this cave system
>Feel like stretching my locomotors
>The whole point of [Family] is sharing

"Are you suggesting we expand our borders?"
>I'll get the hard hats.

No, I think we'll take a look at the surface.
>Heard there was an empire there.
>If their "gods" hate them, maybe they'll like us!


By using the energies that the "gods" are putting out, we can tap into the reality fabric around us!

"I like it!"

Then we'll bend space and gravity around our [Home] and the empire-

"I like it!"

Raising us up through the caves and up to the surface!
>Os-logosh-logosh~! [???=Laughter?]

"Absolutely nothing can go wrong!"

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{A large gathering of humanoids with sealife for heads surround a pulsating mass of nerves and flesh submerged in a green glowing pool. Pan out to reveal it is one of many identical groupings}

Is everyone ready?
>This took a long time to organize
>I certainly didn't think it possible to move anything larger than a man

"Get on with it!"
>Get on with it!


That's a yes from the [Nobles], [Workers] and [Central]. Begin the ritual of [Overturn the Earth and Reverse the Cosmos].


Let the night be undone!

>We are [One]

Let our joyful cry [Sing] out this day!

>We are [Family]

Let those that know it, know the day!

>All shall be [One]

Who are ready to raise up...the [Family]!

>None shall be [Alone]!



(Sound edited out to prevent earthquakes, the noises reproduced can cause genuine tremors)

(Heavy rumbling and cave shaking)

Did it work?
>Something big moved
>Something very big

"Obviously not."
>We're still underground!
>Did the ritual misfire?

I think they got pulled down here instead.
>Let's greet the neighbours!
>Get ready to spread the [Family]!

This section can be put as evidence that the Illithids were partly responsible for the collapse of pre-Mirterran civilisation, along with the gods striking down the missing empire. Driders may be subconsciously aware, explaining racial tensions.
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{An eye preserved in sapphire. It's reminiscent of a spider's, but man sized. It is silent}

(Screams of despair and madness)

Hello! Could I have a minute of your time to talk about the [Family]?
>Its the latest craze in the [Underdark]!
>Join today, and receive your free hat!
>Well, I say [hat], I mean-

(Incomprehensible wails of pain and fear)

M-maybe I should come back when you're all feeling better.
>And less mutatey...
>Did you fall into a spider flu pit?
>Actually looks like a spider god blessing...


-this thing on?
>The light's blinking.
>It's humming.

"What are you doing! By Rak'na's fangs I'll have your head for this!"

Now, now, no need for that neighbour. I just wanted to talk to you about the [Family].

"The ...what?"

My race whose living space you now share?
>Yea high, unnatural symmetries, smell like fish?
>You may not have heard of us, we're pretty underground.

"The ilo-, allahi-, spite it, your kind is now called the Illithid"

Very well, it appears your facial structure limits the range of response.
>Not everyone can afford to have useful prehensile face tentacles

"Why must you barrage me with inane words, squid!"

I can already tell we're not going to get along.
>We wanted to see if you were in a talkative mood.
>Think of this as your welcome.
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{A tiny web, hewn from amethyst. It catches the light in conflicting ways}

“There were no fishmen in the caves, we checked when my race fell beneath!”

Yes! We waited a few generations to see how you were going before introducing ourselves!
>You seem to be doing fine, despite the horrible spider bodies.

“These forms are a blessing from Mother Rak’na herself! The only god to not turn their backs on us, when they sent us below ground!”

Ri-ight. The “gods” sent you underground and another one blessed you.
>Disregarding possible mutations…

“Are YOU some kind of twisted mutation forced onto animals to take the shape of man?”

You mean the Beastmen of the Isles?
>I love those guys!
>Their pack mentality is perfect for the [Family]
>Shame about those Demon invasions.

“Demons? You hold court with the Infernal?”

Them? Hardly. Bunch of wheelers and dealers.
>Only concerned with taking souls.
>We don’t even have souls!
>Mind slates are much cheaper.

“You are soulless abominations that eat brains? Will you flay my mind for its secrets next?!”

Hey, the Abominations are entirely different! Besides, we don’t need to eat brains.
>"Need" to, we can just prod them.
>Flaying minds is so wasteful, just toss them into [Central]

“The Clans will wipe you out! No Drider will bow to your will!”

And I thought we were [Friends].
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{A chunk of quartz inscribed with nerve diagrams. It speaks of familiarity}

The neighbours of the [Family], newly titled the Illithid, proved themselves very unfriendly, the transition from the surface world and mutation into spider forms not helping their temperament. It fell onto the [Nobles] to attempt contact with the surface worlders, but this task would not be prepared until many [years] had passed.


A sleeping man, dressed in the robes of the clergy, suddenly awakes on a wet stone floor in the centre of a glowing circle. The circle is etched with eldritch symbols, and surrounded by squid headed humanoids in robes. A giant brain pulses in the background.

“What, what is this? Am I in Hell. Answer me Demons!”

>We want you.

“What…no! You can’t have my Myrthter blessed soul!”

>We want you.

“Stay back! Stay back!”

>We want you…to spread the [Word] of the [Family].

“…you what?”

>After performing the ritual of [Wise Traveller pays no Tolls] to bring you here, we want you to spread our [Message] among your people.

“And why, by Myrthter’s blessed Iron, would I do that?”

>We anticipated this, and have prepared a series of arguments using our combined racial knowledge. Take it away, [Central]!

“What is a [Cen-…is that a giant brain?”

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{A symbol of Myrthter, sealed in coal. It hums ferociously}


“I-I am Viterus, foundling of the church, priest of Myrthter, the Iron God”


“Because they are powerful, they are generous, everlasting!”


“Then what do squids, no the [Family] worship, if not gods?”


“At first I thought monsters couldn’t become more monstrous. I had taken you for heathens and pagans, or worse atheists, but to attempt to become gods yourself?”


“Then what is this [Family] you speak of? Why should I tell anyone else about this nightmare of mine, risking heresy and exile?”


“Do all of you lack souls? Is this what the [Family] means? Immortality only as a collection of thoughts and memories?”


“The Gods shall provide, and no man or mortal would throw their lot with his foe!”


“Breeding? You mean mixing kin with other humans?”

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“The monst-, you mean the beastmen, the orcs, the [non-human]?”


“N-no, to think, no, to know this is impossible! What manner of Demon or God are you!”


“And you share your thoughts with me. Why?”


“I refuse to turn away from Myrthter! My soul is mine alone, I would not forsake it for any stranger’s cause!”


“Then so be it. Send me back, foul apparition, and I will raise armies against the demonic front and monstrous hordes! No beast will be safe that doesn’t break to men’s will or Myrthter’s Iron!”


(Viterus would later become St. Viterus, the Burning Saint, who people pray to banish monsters and demons. Notable for his crusades against monsters and rampant xenophobia, which have saved many lives and ended others, he never mentioned squids)
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{A small whirlpool in aquamarine. The whirlpool is self-perpetuating}

Following the attempts to gain footholds in the surface world through dreams and visions, the illithid grew unsatisfied with the rate at which [Friends] procured new [Family] members. One day, many [years] later. A [Noble] had an idea.

Hey, you know how we live in the [Underdark]
>Its both underground and dark
>Situated deep below the kingdoms and the seas

"Yeees. Where are you going with this?"
>Tell us something we don't know

Well, instead of spreading our influence slowly but surely through [Friends] in the surface kingdoms, why don't we just pluck sailors out from the ocean?
>They're sure to be thankful for rescue
>Then we'll make them join!

"That's a great idea!"
>But we'll need a way of making sure there's always sailors
>Like a storm ritual or something

Storm rituals take too long to set up and then it takes ages to get the kinks out.
>I was thinking more, vortex.


A constant stream of water falls from the cavern ceiling. Flotsam, wreckage and fish fall through, with the occasional person. A circle of illithid [Nobles] stand in a sparse circle conducting the ritual for [Ocean has no gullet, but it must Feed]. The occasional sailor is picked up from the pool by [Workers], then led away to [Join].

"Best. Idea. Ever"
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{A carved wooden ship, encased in clear crystal. It sounds of waves and smells of salt}

Sailors huddle in small groups, still soaked and shivering from the ordeal suffered in the Maw of the Ocean. A [Noble] approaches them with a contingent of [Warriors].

Welcome to the [Underdark], home to the [Family], strangers!

One of the sailors speaks up, "What are you going to do with us, squid?"

Please, if anything, call us illithids.
>We also accept mind-flayers, [Family] and credit.
>We are here to offer you a choice

Suspicious of the choice, the sailors murmur among themselves, "What kind of choice?"

It's simple really. You can either live here, and join the [Family]
>Or you can take your chances with the Maw of the Ocean

Needless to say, the conversion rate is near unanimous, the few sailors willing to deal with the fury of the sea again shouted down.


New converts to the [Family] are given new clothes, towels, and warmer quarters in the [Arrivals] district. They are given time to acclimatise themselves to their new sticky, glowing environment, then taken to [Medical].

Here, each convert is given an "infusion", said to assist bodily functions beneath the surface, as it slowly transforms their flesh to hardier substances. By the time the process is complete, a [Family] member is born, transformed into appropriate castes.
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{A piece of curved wood, encased in amber. It speaks of the West}

One day, something interesting appeared in the salvage pool. A barrel, tightly sealed with amber, and bearing markings of recent combat. The bodies that came with it suggested a fight over salvage rights, and the [Family] had to know what was so valuable.

The lid was pried open, and the contents our for inspection. A glass jar full of bird skulls. Tokens of amber and black glass. Dried seeds and cuttings. And a book, coated in golden waterproof gloss, with the sign of a four-petalled plant.

Puzzled over such a find, the [Nobles] put their best minds together. [Centrals] were pooled to find any references to such a book, and [Friends] were contacted, their favours called in. The recent arrivals recognised the barrel as a sign of bad luck among sailors. When further questioned, and their minds probed, it was revealed that the book was a Journal, detailing a voyage to the West, and an island full of wondrous and exotic sights.

The [Family] wanted that island. Its Fruit of Life would be a perfect addition to their spawning pools. They sent the [Infiltrators], their most cunning spies, to pinpoint the location of the Island to the West. The Church, the Myrtherran nobility, and the scholars all knew more than they let on.
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{A guardsman's badge, embedded in cobblestone. It blends in}

Message sent to Coastal Guardsman Post “the Net”:
Warning! Priority Black.
Spies indicate Infiltrator movements among populace. Near indistinguishable from humans. Infiltrator purpose: Access to Vaults.

Guardsmen are queuing in the mess hall, awaiting their food and drink.

Audric, First Guard:
What’s so scary is that as long as they’re there, any one of us could be one of them…the squids.

Bradshaw, Second Guard:
I hate those frokkin squids. Frok those frokkin squids. Isn’t that right Salmon?

“Salmon”, an octopus illithid in a hat and fake beard:
All shall be one! All shall be one! Os-logosh-logosh~!

You got that right, Salmon.

D’ya want bread with that stew?

Negative! Brains, must eat brains!

Brains, Salmon?

Cook piles fish heads onto platter.

Salmon loves his brains.

Guardsmen seated at table, eating and discussing events.

I’ve heard that some of them have even gotten to the Net.

The fortress? Frokkin squids…


What’s the matter, Salmon. You’ve hardly touched your stew.

Negative. Information, must eat information!

Guardsmen nod in agreement.
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Y'know, one of them killed a messenger to get our codes. Frokkin squids, I hate those frokkin inkers.

Salmon squirts some ink into a cup.

Thanks Salmon. (Uses ink to write letter)

(Leans over and raises hand-tentacle over face-tentacle) I think it might be Saul.

Other guardsmen turn to Saul, a tired looking man surprised by the attention. The guards scrutinize Saul.

I’ve heard that they’ve got tricks and spells to make you think they’re one of us. They don’t know that they’re not human. They could strike at any time.

Blimey. (Takes out bronze key) I better remember not to lose this enchanted key of Myrthter. With this, they could break open the Vaults and sabotage our defenses. At least those spells will scramble their thoughts. Frokkin snorks.

(During this part, Salmon is slowly extending a tentacle to snag the key)

Yeah. That’d give us enough time to activate the Great Drum. And then get to the Brass Tower.

(By this point, both guards have noticed Salmon’s tentacles tugging at the key)

Salmon, what are you doing, mate?

Must consume knowledge! Os-logosh-logosh~!

Honestly, Salmon, still thinking with your stomach? I’ll get you an ale.

Make it a big one!
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{A mixture of coloured earth in glass. It whispers of distant lands}

The Infiltrators are very good at their station, blending in seamlessly with their host cultures.

In dusty Serrid:

Ah, Samaka! You return from your caravan. How was your family?

“Samaka”, Salmon in a turban with camel:
The [Family] is [One]! Many blessings on your hatchlings! Glory to the Caliph, may his skin never dry out. Os-logosh-logosh~!

You, my fine friend, are a very wise man!


In the sylvan Elven Realms:

Elven Hunter:
So what became of the human patrols, Gwaith-Lim?

“Gwaith-Lim”, Salmon with false ears and a bow:
Cut down by bandits and slavers. Their warriors are no match for the [Family]. Os-logosh-logosh~!

Elven Hunter:
Such is the way of the foolish humans.


In heavy Dwarven Ranges:

Dwarven Blacksmith:
Yer lookin’ off today, Ambly. Summin get in yer ale?

“Ambly”, Salmon crouching in a helmet and fake beard:
The [Family] is [Calling]. My health is short like dwarven temper! Os-logosh-logosh~!

Dwarven Blacksmith:
Hah hah! I swear, yer jokes will be the death of me one day!


In savage Orc Country:

Orc Chieftain:
You return from battle, Orca. What news of the pale skinned weaklings?

“Orca”, Salmon in green-face and hides:
Their flesh is weak and pale! [All] shall fall before the might of the [Family]. Osh-loktar-loktar~!
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{A little bronze key, fixed in place by granite. It sparkles faintly in darkness}

Night has fallen on the sleepy town, and guards regularly patrol the Net, keeping vigil on its Vaults and ensuring the streets stay silent and safe. A guardsman moves away from his post to relieve himself, and a nearby shadow takes the opportunity to sneak past his gaze.

Salmon the Infiltrator decloaks once inside the gate, shifting his mass and procuring a guard's uniform. Putting on silent gloves on his hand-tentacles and feet-tentacles to reduce noise and slime, he moves down empty corridors and torch-light filled archways.

Dodging patrolling guards by blending into the scenery and shadows, Salmon uses [Scent of Misdirection] to alter the guards vision, so that they only see masonry.

Making his way through secret passages, clinging to the walls and ceiling, he reaches his destination. A large stone wall, nondescript to the uninformed, but bricks slide away to reveal a keyhole. Reaching into his form with a tentacle and extracting a small metal key, Salmon opens the hidden door as silently as he can, slipping into the Vaults of Myrthter.

Ignoring jewels and reliquaries, Salmon tracks down a book, placing deep within himself. Preparing to leave, a guard arrives and light falls upon him!

Relaxing his coiled muscles, Salmon says "I got myself locked in! Silly me, Os-logosh-logosh~!"
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{A carving of a clover, wrought in obsidian. It hums enthusiastically}

After the Infiltrators procured the coordinates to the Island, known among many scholars as the Island of Obsidos, the Isle of Clover, or simply, West. Many [Adoptions] took place, with the [Friends] rewarded with [??=Squid-Hats?] and entrance to the Family. One of them, a human named Alhalson, seemed to be able to resist the process.

The reasons why the [Family] wanted the Island were simple. Others wanted it. And should the [Family] control the Island, they could control all those who journeyed to it. An effective second Maw of the Ocean.

It also seemed like a pretty neat place, and they wanted to have it in the Underdark. Singing birds that could play board games, sentinels and serpents adorned with light, fruit and trees that ensured regeneration and longevity, they wanted it all.

With the success of the Maw in the Ocean, and the mistakes of the Drider Queendoms learnt, the [Nobles] felt confident in their skill to [Pull] an entire Island out of the ocean and into the [Underdark].

"No one else can say they have their own Island!"
>They'll be so jealous they never thought of it first!

This is the best plan ever!
>Absolutely nothing could go wrong!

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{A still warm chunk of lava. It growls with the ground}

The rituals were subjected to much study and experiment, until finally they had refined the ritual [Bring Paradise on Earth under Earth].


A large gathering of [Family] in a titanically empty cavern. Many illithid are prepared, and a gigantic circle of them surrounds an equally large sigil, marked with lamps and oils. The space for the Island is prepared.

"Remember, many Infiltrators gave their lives to get this data"

Oh, they'll be fine in a week.
>Their new bodies should be ready by then.
>Seriously, it won't take that long to sort their minds back.

"Shush, this next bit requires complete synchronization!"
>All together now!

>We who are about to summon the Island salute you!



(Songs edited out to prevent earthquakes)

Does something feel...off to you?
>The island feels a bit jittery...


"Something's happened! The circle is broken!"
>One of the new [Nobles] is missing!

Who was it? We can't hold the ritual up any longer!
>The island's centre definitely feels slippery...

"Alhalson has stolen the Journal! He's removed his [Squid-Hat]!"

"How could he abandon the [Family]!"

(Large rumbling and sudden screams)

"Wait, does Mountain of Light mean-"
>It burns, it's so bright-
>Stop the ritual! Stop the-

//Records cut off//
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Family: The term applied to all client and vassal races under the Squid regime. They first arrived to this world after the War Among Stars tore rifts in reality, letting Outsiders in. The Family are used to this method of travel, yet it requires splitting off their consciousness, explaining the, at times, infantile thought processes.

Friends: Conspirators and cultists with the Family. Be on the lookout for anyone with large empty rooms in their houses, and sudden windfalls at sea.

Central: the large nerve and data clusters, resembling giant brains, hereby known as Elder Brains. They contain the accumulated knowledge and memories of all Family members. Do not approach or capture, high risk entities.

Nobles: More commonly known as illithids and mind-flayers. Resemble men with squids for heads and tentacles for limbs. Highly psychic, do not confront directly.

Infiltrators: These illithid resemble octopuses more than squid. Activity indicates infiltration at the highest levels. Be wary of anyone NOT smelling of fish. More ninja-ezio than assassin-ezio.

Warriors: Resemble crustaceans. Exoskeleton has high damage reduction. NOT dumb muscle. Do not confront in groups, ambush only.

Workers: Fishmen. 'Nough said.

Adoption: The process of parasitic infection which transforms humanoids and creatures with enough biomass into members of the Family. Guard water supplies and food storage.

Rituals: Their spells and magics. Use of teleportation and seismology indicates space time knowledge.
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That's all from me for now.
I'll wait for you to catch up before the Sneaky Deals post
I do like your tales.
Nice bit of lore, as always.

I'm getting there on my next bit, but it's slow going. I'll also be milking the Dark Souls verse for as many names as humanly possible, if only so I can get all of it out of my system.
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That's two! Now to post up the sneaky deals before going to sleep.
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Somewhere piscine redolent:

K: Alarming. Illithid accessed seismic weaponry. And suprisingly competent.
B: It gets worse. There’s more. Rest were being translated by collaborators.
K: Keep head down. Silence among telepaths. Latest status plague?
B: Whole blocks mutated. Quarantine in effect. Biomedical sector advances.
K: Abandon plague front. Don't want mutation. How's mental defense?
B: Tin Foil Defense works. So do tin foil hats. Implausible, yet effective.
K: Interesting. Will commission foiling projects. Retrace path of sentinel.
B: Understood. Request change from coded eggs. High hatching risk involved.
K: Emphatically agreed. Last clutch merely dormant. Hatched, dispatched, cooked into romantic dinner.
I find the concept of fishmen to be more terrifying than the rest of the [family]
....wonder whom K is romancing. Or if s/he's romancing her/his spy through messages/being romanced through messages.

I enjoy the sneaky deals a lot.
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Anor Londo, once a great city of learning, of magic, of great feats of human architecture to rival that of the dwarves, and of trade, but now it stands only as a testament of the dangers of dabbling in the forbidden arts of soul magic.

The great city once held many schools of magic, from the grandiose to the subtle, but one school, the Vinheim Dragon School, a grand name for such an ambitious school, would be the one to bring it all crashing down around everyone else.

This school specialized in two things: stealth magic and fire, a strange mix to be sure, but one that earned them some measure of success. What was not generally known was that they dabbled in the soul arts, a forbidden type of magic said to bring doom upon whoever used them. Prior to the arrival of the Outrelmers they had been using these magic unseen for decades, but all that changed. A tear in the veil between their world and another had formed where the soul arts were practiced, allowing a strange energy to seep through, one of a darkness that hungered for souls.

At first they managed to contain it, and then the sought to harvest its power. Dark energy, they called it. They discovered that, in addition to its apparent hunger, this magic had the strange quality of being extremely heavy whenever it struck a target.
They continued to dabble in this new art for nearly six years, toying with it and adapting many of their old spells to use this new form of magic, but they didn’t know they were only playing with borrowed time. A great beast rose up through the rift and knocked their wardings aside, unleashing a great wave of dark energies, corrupting all that it touched.

Within days the entire city was under the influence of this strange energy. Sightings of mutants tearing people apart were almost commonplace, and nothing the civil authorities could do was stopping these things. Fighting was fierce, especially once the mutants started to use their own mages, twisted mockeries of their old selves, wielding magics touched by the same power that had twisted their minds and bodies.

The only recourse the royal family had was to bar the gates of their fortress and pray for deliverance, but none would come, not until it was too late. A few had managed to escape the madness before the gates were bared to stop the spread, but it would be months before the other noble families would muster a force to rescue the doomed city.
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“Why hasn’t that wood I ordered come in yet,” Karrigan asked the caravan master.

“Don’t know,” said the old man. “It was supposed to be with the other stuff we picked up in the shirelands. Are you sure your contact there was reliable?”

“Quite sure,” she said, nodding to herself. “I’ve ordered dozens of pieces from that particular artist already, and he hasn’t failed me yet. Maybe it’s just taking him longer than usual to make it or something.”

“Something wrong,” asked Artorias, walking out of the store. He was in between classes again and had been helping unload the new shipment.

“That wood we ordered, the kind you were going to have made into swagger sticks, doesn’t seem to have gotten here,” she said. “Our supplier in Anor Londo seems to be having issues exporting some of the timber there again. No one seems to know why that is.”

“Need me to head that way and see what I can do about it,” he asked.

“Oh, would you,” she grinned. “See if you can get us a discount for the stuff being sent so late when you get there!”

The knight Artorias took a horse and made his way towards the city. He wore his gear, but that was standard for anyone traveling outside of Harem Knight controlled lands. When he was a day or so away from the city, he was visited at his campfire by a cat. Curious at first, but then the cat started to speak.
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“Greetings, noble knight, I come on behalf of my mistress with a message.”

“A talking cat,” he muttered, “just what I needed. All right, what does your mistress wish of me?”

“To meet with you before you reach the doomed city, nothing more.”

“Doomed city? Something happened in Anor Londo then? What happened? Is there something I can do about it?”

“Follow me and mistress shall explain all,” and the talking cat slunk off into the darkness.

While not usually in the habit of dealing with magical creatures if he could help it, Artorias followed the cat. It took him to a cave with a conveniently placed torch outside. Odd, but he took the torch and followed the creature inside.

The sight that greeted him deeper inside was more disturbing than the cat. A woman’s torso, her modesty protected only by white hair hanging down her front, attached to what looked like a large spider.

“Kneel before the Fair Lady,” instructed the cat. He complied, though unsure of why. “Mistress, I have brought you a champion.
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The spider-girl turned her head towards the cat and in the torchlight the knight could see the milky film covering her eyes. She was blind. “Thank you,” she rasped out. Her voice sounded like someone with severe pneumonia, or worse. “So you are the one who will champion the cause of saving the city?”

“I’ve only just found out the city was in danger,” he said. “I was hoping you could tell me what I’m up against.”

She nodded slowly. “I see. The city has been all but destroyed by Magnus, an ancient creature awoken by the hubris of the city’s wizards. They dabbled in things they should not have and drove the beast insane. It was his will that has corrupted the people of the city.”

“Then what do you want me to do against such a creature,” he asked. This sounded more a job for an army than it did a single person.

“Be my champion,” she said. “Accept my covenant, and I will give you protection from the creature’s influence, as well as the strength to defeat its minions. In return, I gain power from those creatures you kill. A fair trade, is it not?”

“So that’s it, you’re just going to give me the strength to kill these things,” he asked. “What’s the catch?”

“There is none,” she said. “You are in need of power and I am willing to lend it to you. Once your task is complete, our deal is at its end.”

He thought for a moment. He wasn’t sure what this thing was, but if what it said was true, then he would need all the help he could get. “I accept.”

“Then take this ring, Artorias of the Harem Knights,” she said, holding out her hand. He took the ring and left the cave, making his way towards the city.

It wasn’t until after he had put the ring on that a thought struck him. How had she known who he was?

And that seemed like a good enough place to stop. Gives a bit of lore to play around with, if nothing else.
Anyone know good recipes for ramen? And you think we'd have instant ramen in TeeGee?
I remember it goes well with a boiled egg and some cheese.

Not sure if anyone knows how to make the stuff though. It'll be a change not being able to just order Chinese anymore, that's for sure.
I want to try ramen that isn't the instant stuff, but no places offer ramen where I live. So I'm going to try making it myself.
See if it's discussed on Good Eats. Go to the food network channel.
Get advice from /ck/. They've helped us with awesome things before.

Mug-brownies, for example.
All right then, have 3 more days off work, just finished Leviathan, and Dishonored doesn't come out til Tuesday.

Time to get back to writin.
I'm a bit late, but here's my personal theory.

Clover Journals = 36 Lessons of Vivec.
Oh lord, are we making CHIM canon here?
Characters are going to recon reality by posting in this thread and disputing their own stories, and my head is going to explode.
Think of anyone's work as you would a bit of fluff from 40k. It's only as official as you want it to be. You can pass off someone else's story as just their version, either they might not have seen everything, they're just writing what they think they saw, so on and so forth.

Remember, it's just a setting, not an ongoing narrative.
Something with broad-reaching metaphysical effects like CHIM would be difficult to explain as "someone else's version", I think. I guess it would depend how it was handled in-story. As long as no major characters wind up omnipotent.
Although I might have just misinterpreted what >>21004261 said, and CHIM itself isn't actualy a thing.
Fortunately for us all, I was joking.

So, ready for the last part?

It will probably be enough to put the thread on autosage.
Yeah sure hit us with it.
This one archived yet?
I hope you guys can manage the Castle without me. Heh.
We've still got about 60 more posts before we pass the bump limit.
Imagine, if you will, a large mound of grass in the midst of a lightly wooded marsh. Upon this broad mount, along the flat top, are massive stellae reaching into the sky. They seem to march in unison, clockwise about the hilltop.

Near the bottom of this monument to the unknown, a lanky, squat little person, flat faced and thin lipped, chortling gaily. His hands and feet are nearly as long as his forearms and calves, and his thick hair is matted and tied in knots, decorated with stones, as are the ends of his ludicrously long earlobes. He wears thick canvas as a toga, a brown hemp rope about his waist; he balances a set of rocks atop his flat head, which waver and threaten to fall upon his crown yet never do despite his jerking movements and humorous act. His beady eyes of dark brown glitter maliciously.

A strange lamia rises up at the foot of the hill and off to one side, both threatening and terrified, her slender snakes body a rich coppery brown, her torso looking far more the maiden than the mother she claims to be. Her dark cornrow hair clinks and rattles as the bone ornaments touch each other in her movements, her writhing coils and towering poise a harmless threat. Eyes of bright brass and inhuman mien tearful gaze at her tormentor.
A slender human woman, leaning tiredly on a thick staff of pale wood, carved and laquered with symbols of alien meaning and unknown provenance, gazes calmly at the near-capering faery. Her mousy hair is kempt yet messily chopped short as though by dull shears, her pale skin the sign of a recluse. The thick coat, fur lined though it is, does little to hide the fact that she is frail, her breaths shallow and tired despite how alert she seems. A simple bag is slung over one shoulder, obviously not full yet held as though it were the weight of the world. Her hazel eyes are liquid and alive, belying the evidences of ill health.

If only it were that simple.

Spriggans, like most fey, stink. Mind you they do not all smell bad, and this one was far more pleasant than say, trolls or hags or even boggans and kilmoulis, but he still stank. The deep earth smell, not stone, but loess and loam and rich rotted swamp; the scent of living earth that enriches the plants. You can feel them all as well; the graininess of sand in your eyes, the brush of rough stone on skin. I could taste the flat dust of hewn granite and crushed limestone; he was most definitely an earthly sort of creature.

And I knew it was worth my life to let him see that any of those things bothered me in the slightest. Personally I enjoyed how much presence the Fey have; if you know what you are looking for, it can give you clues to their nature and their strength and weakness. But they are easily offended, and there's no easier way to lose one of your senses for good than let any faery kind know that something about one of their sensations offended you. Getting your eyes plucked out or tongue torn from your mouth would be a gentle, kind punishment in their eyes.
“What are you called, kindly spriggan?” I asked, allowing a little flattery because I can't really tell how sharp my tone tends to be. Being breathless and all that.

“Oh, ho, oh ho, ho, she calls me kindly, she does, this Silver witch....silver TONGUED witch, no doubt, no doubt!” He glared at me gleefully, and I couldn't help the blush, knowing he meant it in every possible permutation. “You can call me Scally, scallywag, rapscallion, like a scurvey sea dog!” He laughed and threw his head back, catching the stones that tumbled forward and balancing them in two piles in his hands, his movements so swift I couldn't follow them. They swayed and trembled, but didn't fall; I knew that he wasn't merely showing off, that there was a point to it, but I couldn't reason it out.

The Fey, the true Fey, have that effect on you. It's why you either live with the Rules, or better just to avoid the Fey entirely, keeping a few tricks and defenses in mind. Being near them can scramble a person's brains. It sometimes makes me suspect that the Kanin are naturally immune to that sort of trickery because of their more simple nature. They're still complex people, don't get me wrong, but they are, at heart, seekers of a simple sort of life, and tend to not think so much as feel their way through things.

“Please give me back my egg, good sir,” begged Jaculye, and I glanced at her. She had sunk to her lowest point, where a humanoid would be considered kneeling, and her eyes were full of tears, glittering with misery. Her pupils, touched by little spikes at the top, center and bottom, were wide, black stars in pits of gold. She was deep in his glamour, and probably had no idea why she was saying things the way he wanted to hear them. I wasn't immune – if I had been, I would have figured out what his balancing acts meant.
“Nay, neigh, no way, pretty slinky-slithery-slidey snake, it is mine, unless a champion can win it from me.” He threw his hands up and caught the stones again, this time in three separate piles, one each on the back of his broad hands, and one on a raised foot, as he hopped around in a circle. I had to admit, it was damn impressive. “So is this little old-young wits-woman your champion, here to take up my challenges and choices and crib, defeat or be fetid?”

I flung my good hand up thumb and forefinger circled, the other fingers together. “Yes, old man of the mountains, I'm here on her behalf.” He took no offense at the warding sign. I just didn't want that stray bit of wordplay coming back to haunt me if I did get defeated. The O.K. Sign had been a ward against the evil eye even in our own history, and it worked just fine here. The spriggan was not intentionally trying to lay a stinking curse on me, I felt; he just couldn't help the word play. “Tell me your challenges, I'll make my choice, then you can begin the charge.”

He snapped his head back to me and poured the stones onto the ground, letting them roll off his hands and foot into the grass as he took two weirdly loping steps towards me. Scally gave me the stink-eye, and I looked back at him non-plussed, seeking any evidence I was making sport of him. I wasn't – I was being deadly serious. I had slipped in a caveat that gave me an advantage, however, and I was hoping he hadn't noticed it. The same glamour that blinds humans can blind the Fey.

He looked me in the eye, and I looked right back, lowering my head slightly and softening my expression. “I stand ready, stone-bones.” Jaculye's shocked gasp made him look away, and he laughed uproariously, walking back to where the stones had fallen. He swept three up in one hand and started juggling them easily.
“Stone-bones yet! As if I were a giant or a trulloch, maybe a trow! Silver tongue indeed, witchy-which-wench!”He gracefully kept the stones cascading before me, but I focused on his belt, not wanting to be drawn into a spell, even an accidental one. “My challenges three are these – that you best me at arms, live and let live....” He tossed one stone higher, and it stopped mid arc, hanging there, a weird mark on it. “....a battle of the heart, tears most manly or maidenly to shed....” The second one was tossed up to join it's brother in near-motionless hovering. “....or a battle of wills, the first to beg free fails foully.” Absently I tossed up another gesture, which he didn't deign to notice. I suspected he was used to it, or that it was in his nature not to notice.

I could have chosen any of them, as I looked up at the newly marked stones. I even, consciously, considered them. The wicked, nasty piece of me that hates the world and everything in it whispered I should just to throw a wrench in the works, but I ignored it. The right choice was the obvious choice, and only an intelligent person would have actually considered the other two as options after hearing Jaculye's story.

But in faery-land, only the Rules matter.

“I choose willpower.” Jaculye gasped softly, her eyes wide and her hands covering her mouth in the cutest rendition of fearful shock I'd seen outside a manga. The three stones stopped moving entirely, and fell to the ground, one of the runes glowing more brightly than the other two before the symbols on all three faded.
Giggling like a meth-addicted schoolgirl on her first toke of marijuana, the capering egg-thief grinned, teeth like stone glistening wetly. “Goody groovy goodly, a fine fine choice! You can begin whenever you like, wits-woman, I be ready and waitin'!” I pulled the sack from over my shoulder and set it down, took off my coat and covered it with that, then laid my walking stick on top of it. The white oak would keep any mischief from being done to it by nearby Fey, should any be around. I doubted it – this sort of thing never had an audience, because it was too dangerous for the Fey and the mortals alike.

Sharing your strengths and weaknesses with others was tantamount to walking around nude in a nunnery here.

“I am ready for you to begin, Scally-sir. I am ready for your test.” Jacylue whimpered softly, and fidgeted nervously, while Scally looked confused. “As it is your challenge and my choice, it must be your charge, kindly one. The first blow is to be yours, for sure.”

“Eh, what's this?” He scowled, not pleased with that, but then he smiled cruelly. He could teach sharks lessons. “Well then, if you wish it, I'll have at you, my willing winsome wits-woman....” He grabbed a stone off the ground, not one of the ones he'd juggled for the choice, and crushed it to powder in both hands. He pursed his lips and blew the dust at me.

I didn't hide my face or try to avoid it; it wouldn't have helped at all. I did close my eyes, and took a slow, steady breath, not inhaling deeply or shallowly, just letting it happen. There was no pain or scratchy sensation. It felt more like a warm mist enveloped me. When I opened my eyes I knew instantly what he'd done.
“Bloody Hades....” Lapsing into the curses I'd taken up to avoid swearing, I struggled for a moment to orient myself. The world swam, the leaves drifting in and out of one another, the barks patterns forming into faces that melted and washed away, the grass slithering and moving like a mass of insects, the leaves armored shells upon the ground that darkness hid under before readying itself to do battle with the sun at night. The clouds became pictures that moved and the stones swayed and groaned, dancing as they had been meant to.

It was much stronger than mushrooms had been, these hallucinations. And for all I knew, everything I was seeing was quite real, which was the problem with hallucinations in the Frozen Wastes. But it was far, far less potent than the true lysergic acid diethylamide I'd taken several times in my more foolish days. I calmed myself and reminded myself of how to avoid a bad trip. To his credit, Scally didn't try to do anything untoward, he merely danced in place and chortled and gleefully watched me try to cope with the potent hallucinations.

I took a calm, slow breath, careful not to do so too deeply, and relaxed, looking around at the wonderland the glamour revealed to me. The trees formed faces with their leaves and branches, insect-knights fought duels with menacing bird-lords in faery airspace, dryads formed as the trunks of trees, the stones gazed up at me with wise old faces. I slowly turned around, looking at everything and drinking in the sight, taking as my own forever. Then I looked at Jaculye.
I took a calm, slow breath, careful not to do so too deeply, and relaxed, looking around at the wonderland the glamour revealed to me. The trees formed faces with their leaves and branches, insect-knights fought duels with menacing bird-lords in faery airspace, dryads formed as the trunks of trees, the stones gazed up at me with wise old faces. I slowly turned around, looking at everything and drinking in the sight, taking as my own forever. Then I looked at Jaculye.

I know my mouth dropped open. I didn't much care. The coppery brown of her scales was richly pattered with shifting herring bone, each slight movement or breath sending ripples along the length of her body. Her dead-fringed clothing, simple as it was, accentuated her svelte curves and enhanced the skin that it did not hide, the bronzed skin glistening with health and her hair swaying in the air as though she swam. Her eyes....the sun did not compare to those pools of radiance, or the dark, jagged stars that radiated from their center. She stared back at me and I looked down, my voice a hoarse whisper. “You are beautiful....” I turned away, closing my eyes against tears that formed, hating to admit what I wanted even as I spoke of it aloud. I rubbed my eyes along my sleeve, not allowing the lone tears to fall to the ground.

When I lifted my head, the world still swam, but the spriggan no longer danced. He scowled, his spell wearing away, leaving him...exactly as he'd appeared before, during and after the mystic shroom-rock had done its work. “That was cruelly done, kindly one; I'll have my turn, so you'll yearn.” The cadenced rhyme was not actually anything magical or special, except to me. It was something I'd applied to a roleplaying game, played online many years before: could I create a character who spoke solely in couplets?
And that was the first thing, that desire to discover. I remembered

>being afraid to speak to new people for fear of rejection yet wanting to make friends
>being so hungry and knowing it would be wrong to steal and leaving the candy on the shelf
>yet again being rejected by a girl who had hinted she might be interested because she was afraid
>that empty, hopeless feeling of wanting to be healthy so I could run and swim without suffering
>wanting to go to college despite not having the way to get there or the funds so I could learn more
>needing to be up and about as I lay in the hospital bed
>yearning for freedom from the constraints of my life that prevented me from holding close to friendships

I opened my eyes and glared at the spriggan, and both he and Jaculye were clearly worried by whatever expression I wore; my mind was caught up in those feelings, those emotions, that need, that empty, hollow place that begged to be filled....and then it was gone.

Scally gasped and staggered back, nearly tripping on his own stones as he struggled with the alien feelings that assaulted his being, the hollow pain of loneliness and desire and need that could only be filled by the presence of friends or family. I had grown past those childish and untrue feelings, but Scally was a fey, an immortal being that lived in a world surrounded by his own kind. He would never have felt in such explicit detail such a thing....unless, of course....

He gasped and writhed, his body wracked with emotions he'd never borne, for at least a minute. Then he put his hands on the ground and exhaled. A bleak, dark mist emerged from his mouth, ears, eyes and nose, as well as his palms and the flats of his feat. I blinked, never having seen my magic in such a physical form. He breathed heavily, then chuckled deeply. “Such a will, my pretty ugly dowdy whippet witch. You impress me, and I say nothing so lightly!”
The warding gesture had become second nature to me now, and he let it pass without comment. I shivered, the feelings returning to me as they fled from him. I didn't know exactly what he'd done to break the spell, but it didn't matter; it was a simple thing, a momentary lapse into childish feelings of the past that had never truly been discarded even though I'd leaned not a whole lot of them were warranted. “Your compliment is impressive as well, old man of the hills.” Thanking him for anything was a good way to get brained or cursed.

Standing up, he bounced from foot to foot, and rolled his hands over and around each other, as though gathering dust or mud or something off of them. “One of one, one of three....and soon you'll feel all of me.” My heart sank as he took up my couplets. It was something he could turn to his advantage, as I'd turned the choices to my advantage by making him go first. If he went last, he could use the most powerful thing in his entire repertoire against me. Since he had to leave me capable of standing up to him for one last try, if I went last, I could do the same to him.

The Rules were almost a living thing, sometimes.

He flung the nothingness in his hands at my, and I felt the world rocking and trembling, swaying under me. I staggered back and forth, trying to find some purchase to stand on, but the earth quaked and trembled and fell out from under my feet as fast as I set them down. I didn't even try for my staff, it wouldn't have helped, and given it was white oak it might have been a forfeit on my part. Then I realized that there was no rumbling noise, no shaking leaves, no screeching birds nor screams from Jaculye. I didn't turn my head quickly, but as I was rocked and rolled back and forth, I managed to catch glimpses of her. She was staring at me as if I'd gone crazy, in those brief looks, and that cemented it.
Scally hadn't created an earthquake – he'd disrupted my sense of balance. So I fought myself upright, which, while it sounds easy in theory, was a nightmarish effort that involved me planting my feet and forcing my hands to my sides. While I wasn't swaying or moving now, the world was spinning so fast that it was making me sick. It wasn't literally spinning, my eyes were simply moving back and forth, my head full of vertigo and my ears ringing.

The first step was to take a slow breath and stand tall....then I lifted one foot, slowly setting it down heel first in front of me. I lifted both arms at the same time, remembering the stance as hugging a tree. I kept my eyes open, not focusing on any one thing, merely looking forward, whichever way my body was turned. I turned to the side, all my weight on my back foot, my hands collapsing to my side as I pulled the 'tree' into a 'ball' and then lifted it up, presenting it to him as I stepped forward. As I did so, the world stopped moving and I looked at him sternly, dropping the 'ball' and rising to my full height again. While it sounds so simple, I was sweating bullets by the time I had finished, and I was shaking like a leaf, and not from the cold.

“Two by two and through and through; if not by sorrow, than a dream for you.” This would be unpleasant for us both. Autist's magic held no place here; only my skill in the Sensate arts had any chance of working. Unfortunately that had the unpleasant side effect of subjecting me to most everything I did to him. It wa the price I paid for power, and it wasn't a small price, even if the intensity for others was multiplied compared to what I felt. And this was my second worst trick. I delved into my dreams and
>woke up screaming as I felt the hand sized spiders crawling up and down my body
>struggled to wake from the terrifying, intense booming voice that my fever dream made out of my pulse
>looked at my lover and screeched as she turned to bloody flesh and gore covered bones as she sat astride me
>struggled to wake from the horrifying dream of being a blind food creature in an ocean of dragon-sharks
>hit, bit, kicked, and failed to inflict any harm on the over-sized men and huge boys pressing themselves on me
>struggled to wake from the suffocating dream as for the first time in my life my lungs failed to inflate

I spat without saliva at the faery creature, who looked bemused, as though I'd done something ridiculous....and then he shrieked – a sound I would pay the rest of my left hand and the attached arm to never hear again – slapping at his face and head wildly. He battered the ground, blows that would and could shatter stone and fell trees, and howled in horrified madness, his eyes closed. Jaculye backed away several paces, but I didn't have the luxury of moving away. The spriggan fell to all fours, and then gasped for breath, then grabbed a handful of sod and shoved it into his mouth.

As Jaculye and I stared, he continued to grab handfuls of sod and earth and grass and shovel them into his mouth, chomping the down as a starving man might eat fresh baked bread. After a dozen handfuls, he rolled onto his back and sighed, giving a contented burp. Scally rolled to his feet with the grace of a gymnast and wiped the silvery-black webbings of fluid that had spilled from his eyes, which I guessed was the remnants of my spell. “Hoo, wits-witch-watch, you be no trifle, my dear. I've met faer dugh that can't do as well!” He grinned wickedly, and I could have sworn his stony teeth had become more jagged and more numerous than last time.
“Your kind words will make me blush, good-fellow. I've never done so much work so hard, to be sure, save if I stand the last test.” I was exhausted, and he, of course, was as fresh as could be, even happy. He capered in a circle and chortled happily to prove it.

“Well then, since you'll be giving me the best of you, I'll give you best true!” He reached out for me, his hands in front of his face, and closed them slowly, as though he were capturing me like a bug.

I went to my knees immediately, the crushing weight of the world trapping me on all sides. I was a mouse trapped in the foundations of a city, I was a leaf in the center of a block of concrete the size of the moon. The pressure was incredible....he was trying to crush the life out of me. Every muscle staining, every bone an agonized splintering mess, every nerve like acidic jelly. So I stopped resisting all of it and concentrated on the one thing that I could make move. I knelt there and clenched my hands on my thighs and released the last bit of breath in my lungs, wheezing it out.

Then I inhaled.

It was barely a quarter of a breath, but it was enough for me. It fled my lips instantly when I exhaled. Then another breath. Half of one, my rotted, swollen air sacs pulled open by the muscles in my chest and back rather than merely my diaphragm. It was a trick all asthmatics learned, it was the way babies breathed, it was the first breath a child takes. I forced myself to exhale slowly, the pain in my flesh and bones not nearly as important as getting the life-bearing air into my chest. Another inhale, and I felt things pop inside my chest. I ignored them, not caring if they were merely my rib joints protesting or bits of my lungs collapsing from the scar tissue tearing through alveoli.
A minute passed, two minutes. Still I breathed, better and better each time. The pressure around my chest decreased, and after it, the pressure on my body, my arms and legs, my head. Soon I was breathing slowly and as deeply as I could, the pain and pressure gone. Jaculye was staring at me, and to my surprise, so was Scally. “Summer and Winter, not a man has felt me so and been awake after a minute, wits-woman! What manner of sorceress are you?”

I rose to my feet slowly, my eyes half lidded, exhausted and feeling my lungs as if I'd run a hundred yards, each breath reminding me how much I hated not having medication. But I was done with games now, done playing nice and gentle. The fire in my chest from lungs no longer able to flex freely would haunt me every time I made too much effort. And all this for an egg that didn't come from the lamia.

“You ask the wrong question, stone-friend, as the game now palls; the manner matters not, for it is from the source that answer falls.” I lowered my hands down to my belly, and turned them in, like claws gripping something heavy. I reached inside me, and grabbed that twisting, dark, hateful little thing that personified so much of me, so much within me. It was a part of me, of course, I wasn't as much a fool as to believe it wasn't. But it was the worst, most hateful, most dreadful part of me there was. It was the part that fed on me, the part I nurtured because I had no choice. And I flung it at the spriggan, my face a mask of hate and madness that Jacylue shrank back from and even the spriggan looked cowed by.

I stood up tall, my mind calm, my body tired, but warm and pleasant to feel. I breathed easily, and though I could feel the faint resistance that my lungs had acquired and would always have after years of abuse from my condition, there was no suffering. I looked at Scally watching him with a measure of regret.

The spriggan bore it all; he gasped for each breath, his lungs a ragged, burning fire in his chest, his powerful muscle no stronger than a child's were. He clutched at his throat, his eyes bulging and bright with the pain. He lifted his head, struggling to draw enough breath to speak. “Wha....what is....this...?” Scally looked up at me, his eyes filled with terror.

“The rest of my life. Or, the rest of your life. It doesn't end, you see. It's there as long as I live....or you live. Either way. That's....twenty five mortal years worth. And it will slowly get worse and worse, until it ends. And the only thing that ends it is....well.” Walking over to my belongings, I picked up my staff and put on my coat. I leaned on my staff slightly, enjoying the cool air for once. “All I want is what was taken from Jaculye and the lifting of the geasa and glamours. Then we'll leave you in peace. I don't want anything more than that.”
He lowered his head, his breath rattling in his lungs, the agony writ in the tight cords of muscle and ligament. I readied myself and took one last, pain free breath, deep and sweet, and let it flow through me and away from me. It was wonderful. “T....take it....take it back....and I will....will give....the egg to....her.....”

“The Fey-touch too too. She can't live with those on her.” It wouldn't affect me; I'd broken them already, the little spells nothing compared to what Scally had done to me. “I ask three times: the egg, the geasa. No more, no less.” I leaned on my staff, dreading what I knew would be coming. Of course, if it said no, what the hell would I do then?

But the Rules don't allow for that.

“T....take th....them....” he wheezed, and I knew he had given in. The spell broke immediately and he bounced up, gasping heavily but freely. The hateful, black thing curled up inside me, glad to be home, and I leaned on my staff, the effort of the spells and the magic that had been wrought on me leaving me exhausted and more tired than I had any right to be. I let the pain settle and took slow, normal breaths until I'd gotten the hang of it again, and stood up. He stared at me as if I were a monster, and in a way, I probably was.

“Come never near my stand again, she-witch, she-lich, see-stich! Begone from this place in the hour and ne'er you return!” I had already thrown up the O.K. sign and then wondered what would have happened if I'd let that one slip through. Being a lich could have had interesting implications, and it would have solved at least two of my problems. The spriggan turned and ran for the mound, climbing up the hillside on hand and foot, muttering and gobbling in its own tongue. A lump of cloth was left on the ground where it had been kneeling and Jaculye pounced on it, unwrapping it and discarding the cloth, holding the huge, glistening egg of carved ruby up to the sun and smiling tearfully.
Gingerly I walked over and picked up the cloth, and the three rune stones that had been left by the spriggan. I placed them in the cloth, and tied the cloth shut, though I did marvel at the beautiful patters embroidered into it. After I put them in my travel bag, I slowly started walking away as Jaculye slithered behind me, sniffling softly. The stones and cloth had been left behind, not given or offered, so they were free for the taking; the Rules reward those who follow them and punish those who don't. It was a fact oft forgotten by the other adventurers who wandered into the Frozen Wastes, and explained why many of them never came back.

“Thank you, thank you thank - “

I turned on Jaculye, angry. “Don't! Don't you dare!” She recoiled, a touch of the fear showing in her eyes. That hurt, and I lowered my voice. “That egg isn't yours. Lamia are ovoviviparous....they don't lay eggs, they hold them inside until they hatch and have live births. You lied to me, and I had to....” I let the thought trail off. She'd seen what I had to do, the things I'd put that spriggan through. “That was....”

“It is my egg! My lover gave it to me before she died!”

I blinked and stared at her, uncomprehendingly.
She settled down on herself, and cradled the egg on....well, what passed for a lap, with both hands. It looked like something carved of jasper or red jade, huge flat bottomed channels curving and slicing through its surface, inches across the eight inch tall oval. “My lover was a dragon. She loved me and I loved her. The egg was given to her by a male dragon, not by me....but she wanted me to be able to have a child with her, so she let a male dragon take her by force. She didn't want to mate with one, so she had to....to find one who would force himself on her.” I blinked at the sheer insanity of that idea, something I'd had nightmares about and had dreaded might happen during high school. The threat had never materialized, but the fear was still there for some time after.

“She was a beautiful thing, all wind and glass and steel. Her eyes....” She glanced at me. “Her eyes were silver. She was not huge, but she was sleek and fast. There wasn't anything like her. I loved her with all my heart, but the Mirthterrahns wanted what she had. They came to cold mountain caves and killed her, but not before she left me with the enchantments to stay warm and with....our child.” Jaculye looked at the egg, her last link to a lover that had been killed for her hoard. I looked at her, no emotion on my face. “I did not mean to sound deceiving. I couldn't help it.”
The sad part is that I knew she couldn't have helped it. It was her egg. Her and her waifu's egg. And the geas the spriggan had circled her with just made her emphatic claim all the stronger because, like most Fey magic, it took the strongest emotions and turned it into an all consuming, mind blowing exaggeration. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, which hurt like hell but cleared my head. “I know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.” We were far enough away from the mound that I couldn't feel the geas on me pushing me away from it any longer. “Well, the dead-fall isn't too far off. We'll camp there again. Then we can go home.”

Her eyes started to fill with tears and I looked at her, my expression gentle. “I know, and that's all right. You can come stay with me. I'll behave. Maybe you'll find one of the knights or another dragon to love there. Some of the knights are very pretty, and a couple even like girls.” I turned and started walking again, wanting to build a fire and make a lot of really strong tea. She came up behind me and leaned down, and I stopped and turned, to say something. I shut my mouth, startled to be looking into those shining brass eyes up close, my own probably almost as wide, and my heart beating fast.

Her hand was on my other shoulder as she looked at me, her soft, dark face serious. “Did you mean what you said?”

“....what I said when?” I tried really hard not to stammer. Incidentally, some cobras do not have retractable fangs, in addition to living in cooler climates. It was a very unpleasant thing to be reminded of at that distance.
She didn't blink, probably didn't need to. “When he cast the first spell. What you said about me.” Inwardly I cursed. The first spell wasn't a willpower test to stave off madness. It never had been. It had been a test to force you to admit a truth you hadn't wanted to. He'd broken my spell by reminding himself he wasn't alone, that the entirety of Fey was his family, with all the hate and love that family brings. And mine....

“Yes. Yes, damn it, I did mean it, and I know that you aren't interested in me for reasons besides the usual.” I had thought she was into males. When that turned out to be wrong, it was because her waifu was dead, not because she didn't like females in that way. I didn't have a chance. How could anyone replace a dragon so dedicated as that as a lover? “So, I'll not worry about it. You still need a safe place to stay, and you'll at least have a home inside Castle Waifu with me, rather than being on the streets. It's a dragon's egg, and it's probably one of the few things people will go to the ends of the earth to acquire.”

“But not you. Why?” Her question was soft and gentle.

I hate my own tricks being turned on me.

“....if we were anywhere but here, I would lie. I would lie and you'd believe me.” My voice was thick with emotion. “Because it's your egg, and because you asked me for help. I won't....I can't not help you.” I could feel it now, the geas, that gods-damned-thrice-cursed sprite's geas on me. I hadn't even thought of asking Scally to take it off. “You asked....you told me you needed my help. And I will help you. I have to, because I can't be any other way.” And if it took making me fall in love, the geas would do it. I was afraid it might try that, but I would do everything in my power not to let that geas turn into the worst kind of curse. “So....stop asking questions, and let me help.”
Because if she stayed this close, asked a few more question, I'd be lost. I wanted to be lost, but it wouldn't be fair, to her, or to me.

She stared at me for a moment more and then slowly slithered around me, and took the egg in both hands, offering it to me. “Will you carry her? I am afraid if something attacks us, I would be hindered by holding her safely.” Her voice was soft and gentle, and I stared at her; I couldn't imagine how much trust she had to have in me that she'd offer a human, the species who had slaughtered her waifu, and a spellcaster, the most magic-greedy sons-of-bitches in the New world her egg. “Please.”

I carefully took the egg from her hands. It was both surprisingly light and very warm. I could see, in the deep grooves, the shadow of the sleeping child waiting to be born within. I sat down and took the cloth that I'd placed the stones in, the one that the spriggan had used to keep the egg safe and warm with. I placed the egg inside, leaving the stones in as well, and tied it closed again, placing it carefully and securely in my back.

“Can you find your way home from here? I....I don't know where we are.” I nodded solemnly. I'd stripped her both of the geas and the protections that had gotten us safely to the spriggan's mound. Still, there were tricks that could be used to find the way home, and there were ways to avoid mischievous faeries and creatures as well. But I'd won a contest, and that had a lot of sway. Challenging me or threatening me immediately after such a win, or doing so to the victim of a contest was against the Rules in a big way. And bad things happened to those who broke the Rules.
“We'll be all right. It won't be too far.”

I started walking, the lamia by my side, her daughter safely next to me. I hoped she would have Heart, and Will, and Strength that she was currently resting on; she would need it to be born into the New World that was being created around TeeGee. We were making waves, and the ripples of those waves would one day come crashing back upon us, the tsunami we made for ourselves.

Because that too, was part of the Rules. You stir something a little, set a fire under it, and sooner or later things would boil to the top.

Whether you wanted them to or not.

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Magnificent. Absolutely magnificent. Easily one of the greatest stories I've read on /tg/ and better them most I've read elsewhere.
You could make a living writing, easy, if you don't already.
I just got here. Is this quest worth reading?
Thank you. I try hard.
Its not a quest its a setting.
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Its a baby not a tumor
Bravissimo! I look forward to any works you may come up with in the future.
I'll come up with more eventually. Hopefully shorter.
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Entry 11, Vol 2 22nd Last Seed
I’m surprised how fast construction is proceeding despite my “outlandish” designs. I’m guessing the inhabitants of this world have never built a chedi atop a building before. I cannot thank Lem enough. It has allowed me to build goodness to honest Wat.

The main hall is done. It is a long rectangular building with a double tiered roof to match. There is one main floor which is wooden, and a staircase to the chedi atop. Instead of having a bell installed like a temple, I made it my office instead. Foregoing the traditional gold leafing, I opted for white as a colour instead. The hall itself is spacious enough to play half a dozen takraw games in concurrently with a stage in the centre which also leads to my office. I’ve gone through pains to ensure that it is well ventilated and that the interior is appropriately lit up during day time so as not to rely too much on open flames.

Right now, the main entrance to the hall is through the main double doors that leads to a raised stone square slightly larger than a muay ring. It’s not too far off the ground though, about knee-height above the ground. The compound itself has no walls but one gate of sorts opposite the hall. I based it on the Shinto gates back in the Old Realm. The sign atop the gate is written in Thai and reads Wat, as in school. I plan to add secondary hall and a dormitory building on either sides of the square. The paths between the gate, the square and the hall are stone as well.
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For now this is enough to hold a proper seminar and various lectures. The castle courtyard has proven to be too restrictive especially since it is supposed to be a drill yard for some of the town guards as well. I’ve invited Librarian Olin to begin his lectures here as soon as he can. Lem is no doubt busy with his diplomatic missions and Sir GearHeart is usually busy but I’ve also extended an invitation to them as well as guest lecturers until they wish to commit fully.

I’ve also outlined some rules to be observed on campus. Students will not be allowed to carry weapons, including items used to cast magic or otherwise, on campus. All students will consider each other their equal and show respect to each other and their teachers. There will inevitably be disputes obviously and I have figured out a way to resolve them. Contests, whether physical or no, shall be used to settle these disputes with a teacher such as myself as witness and judge. That’s why I built the ring after all.
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In Thai there are two types of teachers, the Ajarn and the Khru. The former is a teacher in the sense that they pass on knowledge and information. They shall make up most of the teaching staff and will ensure the students learn well and retain what they have learned. A Khru has more responsibility. They must always be able to guide students correctly in life without leading them astray. If their student has lost their way, it is the Khru’s responsibility to bring them back. It is a small distinction that I will make, though I’m sure the teaching staff will prefer the more familiar titles of professor or lecturer.

Both also have to follow some rules too. They will of course be allowed to carry weapons on campus but doing so is heavily discouraged, less so if concealed. I expect them to be impartial in settling disputes and truthful. The Wat is not here to teach deceit.

I suppose the title of Bhikkhu is no longer fitting for me either, I am no longer a beggar. A shame many still call me by my title alone, forgetting my name entirely. I guess I’ll have to make the appropriate corrections. I feel a bit uneasy self-styling myself as a Khru but it is appropriate to my new role.
I am also considering something like a school uniform but I doubt many would be receptive to such an idea. Perhaps if I started with the teachers first that might be more acceptable. I have yet to come up with a good motto as well. I’ve asked Cynthia and Adelaide and their suggestions were “Knowledge is power” and “If you will not learn then you will teach” respectively. I’m not quite sure on either of them. Regardless tomorrow I intend to meet with the council to discuss the curriculum.

The curriculum so far I have not decided on, I need the opinions of the Council before I finalise. That and it is far too early to start a proper school year. I have a few subjects in mind already, namely mathematics, languages, and the three basic hard sciences. If this whole thing takes off the social sciences and the arts may also be considered. It’ll be worth all the trouble to see Lem teach political science. For now the feeling of realising one of my dreams will have to suffice.

--Journals of Bhi [line is struck out]
--Journals of Khru Thai, “Wat University is a bit redundant as a name”
Discussion of the issues raised by the above would be appreciated. Until the Council, that's pretty much everyone in this thread, I'll work on something else to flesh out the characters.

Until next time gents.
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Not really a quest so much as a collaborative setting. We had the idea to make it a quest, but it was decided not to on the grounds that there are at least a half dozen consistent ones, and a collaborative fiction thing would be more fun.

Also I am finally back from being busy. 'Sup guys.
Anybody wanna archive this thread?
Can... Can I play too?
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Sure. You need help with characters or the setting or anything? Ask questions dude, we're friendly here.

Well, I've been reading some of the archived threads and the wiki, so I think that I have a pretty good idea of the setting. However, I noticed that there are some strong Dark Souls references and likenesses that people use. Is that limited, or... can other people take from it too?
Thread archived.
Unless historical military strength and strategies r brought up...lol
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Sure, if you want. You can basically model yourself visually/etc. closely after a vidya character, or go for something completely unique. Your decision.
What University?

Also I'm going to be honest my slapping hand started twitching reading this. Its a bit Hippie New Age for my taste. But other than that I have no problem with it. I do like the way for settling disputes even though it wouldn't realistically work. It also makes me worry about a Gambler Fish situation.

The Thai is a bit heavy. But I can respect that. And I have to say I don't think you've given the danger this world has a good though. Any place that you can't carry a weapon in this setting is akin to a death trap. So at the least you shouldn't discourage teachers from going armed to the teeth. Thats about my take. All in all no big complantes. Except, no social sciences and only the three base? Well GearHearts going to have a lot of writing to do to make sure that knowledge is not lost.

Interesting. Interesting indeed... Perhaps I should write up an intro story...
Go ahead; let's see what you got.
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Fine, let me finish first and don't be hasty.
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Speaking of finishing Me and Fluffy just finished a 10316 story and are waiting for the new thread
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word left out word
dibs on helping with the rebuild and exploring all the nooks and crannies. i may not have been able to help with your story time, but if you'll let me i plan to find something so very very special within your new local

New local? Rebuild?

What on earth did I miss?
Wat is the correct spelling.

Remember this guy is an academic, he's not an adventurer, I'd expect someone like you to think of appropriate security measures and slap it in his face. I'm hoping to use your responses to shape how the university turns out. Funding may be unlimited but that doesn't mean other things are.

Note about the curriculum, Teegee may be lacking in the amount of teachers needed to fully staff a university and so my character decided to cover the standard bases first. I was considering adding history and geography but do we have people well versed in it?
you'll find when they post it in the new thread
Just a heads up on the next half of the illithids:
You may need a thesaurus, as it transitions from Zoidbergi to Lovecraftian.
I will use a gif from Cabin In the Woods so watch it if you haven't, great movie.
Thought that was the last you saw of the Sentinel and Alhalson? Think again.
what does "dem scales, dat fluffy tail" mean?

Obtain gmail.
Sure we wanted you on.

Sorry if the pun didn't come off clearly.

Also I figured that was the case. What with a lack of teachers. And those are the two fields I'm not good at. But everything else I could theoretically teach. Study of Humans and the Brain being my specialty. But history, nope. BUt I think in the next story I post there may be the perffect guy for the school introduce.
me not helping write it up had more to do with having tons of schoolwork than not having gmail

thank you, though again this is probably going to have to be something i write on my own, so i'll try to avoid messing up anything you've built
Either way it would be nice to havea third view on the place. Well 4th or 7th view depending how you count it
Busy stuff. Always stuff to do.
Well, my first post is nearly done. Should I wait, or go for it?
wait for new thread, this one is close to autosage
Hey, you were the one with the succubus waifu right? Didn't you used to be a law student? I'm sure Law and Economics would be subjects the uni could also have.

Righto, chief. Will do.
Law and Economics pays the bills. Yes, but like I said my specialty is that of the mind and behaviors. Also like I've mentioned in the story I've studied just about everything I can. Just not languages.

Alright, all done. Eagerly awaiting the new thread gentlemen. I may not be able to write as well as you guys, I'll give it a shot.
Everyone starts somewhere and its fine to be there. Its not fine to stay there. So practice and listen to feedback. You will get better
>finally catch up on the reading
>someone else already did a read dragon egg story
oh god damn it
The only other place to put storytimes is /lit/.

And judging by your previous reactions, its not a nice place.
What I said is supposed to mean that everyone starts at their own skill level and that's fine. But one should not stay at that level they should improve. Sorry if my cowboyism wasn't clear.
No, no. I understood your meaning about striving for improvement.
I was just seeing if anyone could tell me whether or not /lit/ was a nice place.
Its like a sea. Looks nice in calm most of the time, then the undertow gets you.
I just hope you guys find something interesting about my character.
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I just hope someone makes a newthread
Fuck it making thread. And Buttering toast.
Thread this way. Toast Delicious. Story inbound.
I*'ll point out that the dragon egg, while red, was laid by a silver dragon, so that may have very little to do with the father's color which was black. It's also not likely to hatch anytime soon.
yea, i know that dragon biology doesn't have to into logic, still wanted to do the dragon egg in my story though. still gonna too
That is perfectly fine by me. there's plenty of thunder to go around.
i'm hearing "the adventures of the dragon toddlers" this could be fun. just need to finish writing a bit
And holytits I just about filled up the new thread I think.
sorry, but i don't think Lilly's tits count as holy
That is true but Lilly's assets have little to do with the story.

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