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Welcome. Come one come all. Hear the tales of the Harem Knights as they chase tails and come into conflict with many monsters. In fact I think we may very well have the climax of one such tale this night. But first a very important guest.

For Honor, for Glory, for a really good shag.
Welcome to Teegee!
A newcomer’s guide to the Harem Knights setting
Written by C

>What’s going on in here?
Well, back in 2012 there were a bunch of things going on. The Olympic Games in London, anticipated American presidential reelections, the impending apocalypse as ‘interpreted’ by the Mayans, and so on. And a good few thousand people disappeared from their homes when browsing image boards.

>What? Was it... ALIENS?
No, though that would still not come as a surprise. A wizard did it. Opening a teleportal that sent all these unsuspecting people into another world! One full of fantasy, and knights in shining mail, and magic and-

>Hold up, hold up. I can has magic?
Well, not everyone can be a wizard, Harry. Statistically less than a handful in a thousand natives or one in ten Earthlings have any real talent- that’s besides the point. It’s crazy stuff, and will get you stereotyped as an addict, a gambler, or ‘special needs’, until you get past the wall at which point you’re one of the high rollers.

>So, what are the natives like?
Well, we’ve pinned down that it resembles medieval Europe to some extent, (high 11th century to low 13th century), even the continent is called Eurona. The only major geographical difference is that the entire Mediterranean sea is gone, replaced by more land, and there’s a huge mess of rivers everywhere, and who knows about temperate belts and tundras-
>I said the natives, not the land! You’re not the Geography channel.
The dominant lifeform is humanity, hurray. We’ve got the Mirthterrans (or Mirthans for short) who occupy about all of not-Europe in a distinctly francoform empire called Mirthterrah, led by Jarls under a High King, except for not-Spain, which is home to the majority of Free Kingdoms, which are led by a loose association of kings, and the Plainsfolk of the Plains who hold some allegiances to everyone. The desert region to the south of not-Europe is home to the arabish Serridians of Serrid, ‘Jewel of a Thousand Sands’, under the wisdom and generosity of their Caliph, who by custom must be praised in each mention, may His beard never be shaved.

>Wait, ‘dominant lifeform’? You said this was fantasy... spill it!
Well... there is the Elven empire to the East. And the Orcish Clans in the South-East and North-West. And the Gnomes who live on top of Mountain Ranges. And the Dwarves who live under the Mountain Ranges. And the Hobbits who live in the Shireland, by the Mountain Ranges. And the wandering bands of Felim who saved the unlucky channers originally from their Jungles South-East-

>The rest I get, but ‘Felim’? What kind of moon speak are you pushing on me?
Cat-people. Less Thundercats and more ‘cat ears and tail’. I’ll rattle off the rest, shall I? The Kanin who reside in what may be mistaken for the British Isles North-west resemble canines of all sorts in the same way as the Felim do felines, there are Driders who venture out from underground caverns in the North who look pretty human if you ignore their lower halves, the Mermaids are... well, Mermaids, but only in the great open water to the West, Centaurs who ride about, Lamia, Harpies, and a bunch of other things yet to be counted.
>What are these things that think they’re man? Are they friendly?
Well, as far as it matters, yes. The open and trusting attitude didn’t hurt, especially once the original group killed off the wizard that sent them there and were left stranded in the cold. Reaching out to the Felim caravans for support managed to keep the Earthlings, or ‘Outrealmers from the Old World’ as they say, stable enough to form the settlement of Teegee in the nearby wizard tower and abandoned fort. The events that followed resulted in only a good thousand or so Outrealmers alive, which was when they founded the Order of Knights Harem.

>Wouldn’t reaching out be hard if nobody speaks the same language we do?
Normally, yes, very much so. However, the ‘good’ wizard apparently bypassed the issue by putting a spell on the unfortunates, which let them speak the Common Trade Tongue, or as we know it, English. The natives won’t understand a word of ‘ramifications belying practicable quantum mechanics’, but it lets us ignore how we can communicate in a world that has never heard of Chaucher, Shakespeare or Webster.

>So, Knights Harem? Sounds kinda, funny.
There’s more to it, I would say, but that argument will fall flat once you realise they call their companions ‘waifus’. But there is genuinely more to it. Like how there’s a security service formed to protect against banditry called the Merchant Guard, the protective and policing members of the Homeguard, the more secretive and definitely not espionage Order of the Blades, the Order of Diplomancers as our professional faces, and so forth.

>Isn’t Teegee kinda small for a city, about a thousand humans and some cat people-
And Elves. And Orcs. And immigrating humans. Teegee was built on old trade routes, that were given new life when just about everyone heard about how open natured it was compared to the relative (and in some cases historically justified) xenophobia of other human cities. It also means that Teegee is very rich for its size, and quite active.

>What is there to do then?
Well, you could watch some films at the only cinema in the world, there’s a gallery or two, a museum of natural philosophy, some nice restaurants that try to make do with what they’ve got, a fight arena where just about all races throw down, a bustling marketplace second only to the Serrid’s in terms of variety, a University, an auditorium, a theatre...

>No, what is there to DO?
Well, you could go dungeon diving, fight nameless horrors beneath the shade of the Mountain Ranges, find romance, multiple times, get rich and blow it all gambling, unravel the secrets of science and magic, participate in the confusion of war, explore strange and exotic locations, go mad slowly, break chains and free slaves, try your hand politicking at the Game of Thrones, solve crimes and mysteries, have meaningless flings with a great many things, fight the power, drink and have barfights, become a notorious actor, the list goes on.

>Are there any landmark events? Great big bashes or horrible clashes?
Ah, yes. Year 0 is set as 0 AA (After Arrival). The calendar used by the Outrealmers is just a renamed Gregorian calendar, with a slight slant towards Northern hemisphere seasons in terms of naming, so there’s no reason to get out any conversion tables. 1 AA is equivalent to the year 879 of the Eldacar dynasty in the Mirthterran calendar.
In 1 AA Teegee was officially founded, under the names of Waifu Village and Castle Waifu. Things progressed from there with more human and non-human immigrants wanting to start relations with the overly welcoming outsiders.

In the middle of 4 AA it was invaded by Ork forces, manipulated by Elves as revenge for various activities. Shenanigans happened, and they later joined Teegee as peaceable immigrants.

In about 5 AA to 6 AA, lots of Mirthan nobles were killed by hitmen linked to the western Free Kingdoms. With guns. Yeah, surprising innit.

By about 7 AA, all out war with a twist was ongoing between the two human factions. The twist? Guns, not flintlock, American Civil War. Over forty thousand humans dead totalled up in the first six months of warfare, and that was just the military.

>A history measured by wars? Sounds kinda bleak.
You’re telling me. No points for who had the only technology to pull it off.

>So, is this setting a happy setting, or should I put the warham kettle on?
The world is both beautiful and terrifying, it has moments of crushing despair and great hope, blazing glory and solemn defeat, love of various temperaments, dramatic politics and light hearted comedy, crippling madness and joyous- are you even paying attention? There’s a lot to it, and so far, we lean to the light. (Despite the fact that, statistically speaking, most knights tend to break down after their first year in active duty)

>Wow, sounds great! How do I jump in?
Well, most writers tend to gloss over the first few months and shove it into some dark corner. Others like to make a flashy entrance and have a jump into combat, whether Elven, Orcish, or Bulleted. Sometimes people wander back in from the outside, others are new immigrants to the city. You could ramble about your adventures in dungeons or the rough camaraderie of mercenary bands. The options are open, but nobody expects the long lost descendant of Julius Caesar to waltz into town.
>It sounds like a lot. Is there a wiki?
Glad you asked. http://1d4chan.org/wiki/Harem_Knights

>So where should I start?
Best advice is to start small and build your achievements up. Eventually, you may get involved in even greater achievements with other Knights! Just don’t let your actions get too big for your britches, it’s been the end of many a good adventurer.

>What’s the rub, my chummer?
Don’t Deal with a Demon, Fool with a Fey, or Sing with a Squid. There is no such thing as the Order of the Blades, citizen. Clover Lives. The Times are leashed, the Guy muddies truths. Who is the Red Cardinal? DON’T GO TO THE GEARHEART RESIDENCE. B and K, a joke? (Not a very funny one) WHAT DO THE COLOURS MEAN?

>What was that?
My cat walked on the keyboard.

>Your... cat?
He’s a very eloquent cat.

It was the tail end of 6AA, the first of winter frosts were just setting in, the townsfolk were all wrapped up and preparing for the upcoming 56 days of Hard Day remembrance, a harpy flew over the Artorias household, it was not the first house it visited, nor was it the last.

*knok knok* The harpy mailgirl rapped on the door.

Artorias opened the door to find a black feathered harpy mailwoman was waiting with a clipboard in claw and wearing the satchel and uniform of the TeeGee centered postal service.

“Letter for the Artorias residence, is the Knight Sergeant in?” The feathery mailwoman said.

“That’d be me,” the knight said, looking like he’d just woken up. “They got another job for me?”

“So it seems, some kind of a contract. Some advertising agency or other trying to hire up some big hitters for winter work. Gotta fly away now. Half dozen more knights to see”

And then she took off, winter scarf trailing in the wind.

“What agency sends out letter like this for recruiting anyway,” he muttered, walking back inside, skimming through the letter as he walked. “Well now,” he muttered, now very intrigued, “this may be fun.”

A short time later Artorias and eleven other knights were traveling up to Wickham Manor, which was deep with in the Shirley-upon-Wells forest. They had been hired on by some backwater Baron in fear of his life from assassins.

Getting there was a pain in the ass, the trees were thick as thieves and the bramble was every where, sharp as broken glass.

When they got to the Manor a storm was just starting to break out and they were greeted by a large regiment of guards armed to the teeth, a large number of nobles, and a priest.
The priest spoke first, “Welcome, we are so glad you could make it. Now for the truth. We have called a hit on an Baron who doesn't exist. Your diplomat, Fearghaile, suggested that we have some of you Harem Knights for peace building.”

“So, they want us to play bait,” muttered Artorias to the knight to his left. “I can think of worse fates, I suppose”

“Yep, bet you the assassin doesn’t even show.” The knight replied.

“That’d be a disappointment, to be sure,” he said.

It was a day or so later, the guards were spread all over the grounds and the knights waited, some more patiently than others, around the manor’s halls. The storm had yet to recede and was in fact growing in severity. Artorias was etching an inscription in his armor when a shot rang out, nearly hidden by the thunder blasting the sky. But seconds later came yet another roar of a gun, Artorias recognised it as the firing of a 12 gauge shotgun. The noise was coming from outside the manor.

The knights moved within seconds of the second shot. As they drew their weapons the sound of gunfire changed from that of one shot to that of a torrent of fire, shot after shot with not a pause in between. The screams of the guards who had been outside filled the air, almost drowning out the resounding blasts of metal flung death. The sounds of doom by shell grew closer and louder, seeming to come from all directions, and then it cessed.

Those assembled in the manor were not sure as to what had happened. They stood on guard at their positions. The tension in the air was so thick it would take more than a butter knife to cut it.
One of the nobles, an Earl of something, famed for being a practitioner of some renown, broken the silence. “I think they got the bastard.”

Another scared noble said more for his own sake than anyone’s else, “Yah, must have. The firing stopped.”

A mighty man standing next to a bear, his peers knowing him as Jean Jora the third, spoke next. “Nay, if the brigand had been silenced the guard would have come and informed us of the end. The game is still afoot.”

“Looks like he only stopped to reload,” observed Artorias. “I’m not sure what he’s got, but I suggest everyone proceed with caution. Stay together, but don’t bunch up, and for god’s sake, keep your shields up. They may not do much, but they’re better than nothing.”

Mere seconds after those words left Artorias mouth, more shots rang out, but this time from behind them. Those with much experience would recognise it as the sounds of a wooden door being turned into so many splinters.

One of the nobles less brave than the others screamed, “He has made it into the manor we are doomed, doomed I tell you.” He ran for the front door, but got stopped by the mighty hand of Jora which grabbed him by the neck and nearly popped the head of the noble clean off. The coward fell to the floor unconscious.

Jean spoke up “Any cowards who want to run will have to get through me.”

All the while while the foolish Myrthans were talking the Knights had taken to defensive positions guarding the ways one could come to where they stood their ground.

From down one hall came a man dressed all in black, with what looked like a black rifle made of plastic in his hands. He brought the barrel to bear on one of the knights guarding that hall and pulled the trigger. Who was soon full of so many holes, the attacker was using buckshot it turned out.
“With me,” cried the knight-sergeant, bringing his own more formidable shield to bear. “His shot isn’t as powerful as he thinks!”

Hearing this the assailant pulled out the drum mag and replaced it with another, continuing his slow walk down the hall. From his demeanor it was clear he was in no hurry and thought little of the men with swords.

The nobles had joined the knights in short order, the ones capable of magic had started to chant and the priest prayed.

Knight-sergeant Artorias lead his fellow knights (and the nobles followed) in a fearsome charge that would forever be remembered in Harem Knights history. If it was an above board mission, instead it would have to suffice for the moment. The shotgun wielding assailant had not been expecting them to rush him. He hesitated a second, before pouring fire on to them.

The knights were relatively untouched by the hail of slugs coming their way, the nobles were not so luckily (Buck, the man with the shotgun was intentionally aiming for the heads of the nobles, that was who he was hired to kill, the knights he only saw as obstacles. This was made possible due to the knights ducking down in their charge, and the nobles not being familiar with call of duty remained standing like simpering morons.). Only three of them would live to see another day. The knights armor and shields strong as the men who wielded them weaked the shots as so that those who were hit would survive their wounds provided they were taken care of.

Artorias being the spearhead of the charge collided with the killer first, slamming into him full on with the force of his shield, throwing the assassin back and free of his weapon. This was all the opening the knights needed to subdue the assailant, making sure to beat him to a pulp so that he wouldn’t be coming to for a while before giving him a thorough search.
The knights bound the assailant and took his gear from him. Finding only the gun, his clothes, and two drum mags. From his look he was a Outrealmer.

Shortly later Buck woke up, to the smell of hot metal. Artorias had taken charge of the situation and was now preparing for what looked like a most unpleasant interrogation (Unfortunately they couldn’t find a phone book or bamboo anywhere).

“Ah, good, you’re awake,” said Artorias lightly, walking over to the would-be assassin. “You gave us quite a time tonight, did you know that? I’m sure we can still set our differences aside and be the best of friends though. First though, I’ll start with a few questions. Who are you?”

“Buck Morris, ex-army, ex-Blade, killer for hire.” The captive replied with almost no emotion.

“Ex-army, you say,” said Artorias, slightly suprised, “let me guess...basic training at Ft Benning?”

“You know it.”

“How far the mighty have fallen,” he continued. “A hit stopped by ex-signal. So then Buck, mind if I call you Buck, by the way?”

“Its my name, call me Jarhead for all I care.”

“Good to hear then,” he said pleasantly. “Who do you work for?”

“A demon who lives around Teegee, not the slut.”

“Another demon near Teegee, eh? This demon have a name?”

“Real shadowy fellow, fittingly calls himself the Shadow.”

“I see,” said Artorias, looking over at one of the other knights to make sure he was writing all of this down. “Where is this demon hiding at?”

“Likes to play hide and seek in the catacombs under the city, I meet him towards the middle.”

“Most interesting...where did you get this gun from? I haven’t seen hardware like this in years.”

“Came over with it, was cleaning it, surfing the net at the same time, you know what happened next.”

“Don’t we all,” he muttered. “How have you been resupplying your ammo then?”

“Fuck if I know how it works, magic of some kind, I was being charged down by some leaf eaters back in the cold days, and I kept firing what few shells I had, thing is I didn’t run out. Haven’t since. Like I said fucking magic.”

“Yet here you are, an assassin, captured in spite of his own power,” said Artorias. “I’d have thought the service would have taught you better than that.”

“Taught me well enough to realise that the Blades are bastards that make Black Water look clean as newborn babes.”

“And yet you chose to do even worse. Why?”

“Well it all started when some ‘fellow’ Blades came bursting into my house middle of the night and started grilling me on everything, they thought I was in on the whole gun deal, they weren’t as polite as you. So when I finally healed up, I did the logical thing, quit the Blades, couldn't trust them after all. That’s what the service taught me, the value of trust. So then it seemed fitting to join on with the gun runners. After all I needed some protection, turns out quitting the Blades is like quitting a gang.”

Artorias shook his head. This was getting way too deep for him. Perhaps a bit further wouldn’t hurt though. “Makes sense, I suppose. Tell me, have you tried these nobleman’s wine before?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Care for some then,” he asked, gesturing towards a cabinet. “I’m sure they won’t notice a few bottles missing.”

“Sure why not, might as well have a last drink.”

“No need to be so morbid about the whole situation,” said Artorias, pouring two glasses before walking back to Buck and cutting the bindings. “May as well savor the moment though.”

“True, but when the Blades get word of me, I’m dead. When I don’t report back in, I’m dead. You probably won’t kill me though, I can tell, you're still one of the good guys.” Buck said taking the drink, and savoring the aroma of it before taking a sip.

“Call it an old soldier’s courtesy,” he said, sipping the wine. “Makes me wish these pompous nobles stocked something a bit stronger though. I miss a good bourbon on Fridays, but I digress. It does seem you’ve gotten yourself in a right mess though. Screwed no matter what you do, it seems, and it seems like no way out, so I ask you, what will you do?”
“What you want me to do is flip, well I guess that talk about trust don’t mean all that much. So how about this. I tell you what I know, and then you let me go, I’ll be dead if I can’t make it to check-in in 24 hours anyway.”

“How are you dead if you don’t check in? Do they give you a poison or something?”

Buck took off his shirt, over his heart and chest were ruins tattooed in blood red. “They don’t get the confirmation, they figure I’m caught, my heart goes boom, splattered all over the place.”

“And to think the worst screwing up used to get me were push-ups,” said Artorias, shaking his head and taking another swig. “All right then, tell me what you know and I’ll see what I can do. Our diplomat should be along shortly anyway.”

“You don’t mean Fearghail do you?”

“Is that a problem?”

“He’s rather high up in the ranks of Blades, I don’t know him, but I don’t trust anyone in the Blades, and concerning I’m persona non grata with them and the standing order is to kill deserters on sight yah I have a problem with that.”

“A fair point,” said Artorias. “Still, last I checked you were my prisoner, not his, so you fall under my protection.”

“True enough, well then I’ll trust you, can’t say that about many.”

And then Buck told him the locations of the warehouses he knew of and of the production plant.

“Anything else you can think of then? Names of other members of the gun runners maybe?”

“The real leader, the one Shadow bows to is just called Boss, no one ever calls him by anything else. He has some other workers and hitters, never meet them, but I know one is, or was anyway, a Chironen. Thats how I learned of the Shadow. Crazy fucker called Manwell.”

“Manwell...can’t say the name sounds familiar...”

“He don’t get out much, and isn’t a friendly sort.”

“Sounds about right...well, you’ve been straight with me as far as I can tell, so I’m going to release you on the condition that you go back to being a decent human being after this. Run off to the Free Kingdoms, flee South, but for the love of God make yourself scarce.”

“Will do, you won’t see or hear of me again.”

“Make sure I don’t,” he said. “I suggest raiding the wine seller on the way out though. I know I am.”

And so, Buck (after grabbing a bottle or two) was off, after checking in and getting the runes deactivated he disappeared, legends tell of a man who would walk the earth for the rest of days, coming to a stop only once he found a place the Blades would never be able to find him.

Needless to say, the nobles were not pleased with this outcome. There being only three of them left alive, they didn’t have much bargaining power but they tried anyway.

Jora, who had unsurprisingly survived, upon finding out that the assassin had been let go was most furious. “What do you mean you let him go. He is a remorseless killer, he should have been put to death for the number he killed tonight alone.”

“You miss the big picture here,”said the knight. “If what he told us is all true, then he just gave us enough to put a serious dent in their organization. Besides, call it a bit of Outrealm honor, but executing a captive who just spilled his guts doesn’t sit well with me.”

Jora looked like he was going to say something, or strangle something but instead just stormed off. Another nobleman just looked sidelong to see the bear of a man off, then turned back to Artorias, “If you are indeed in the habit of letting murderers go free, what do you think about stalker rapists?”

“Another thing entirely,” he responded. “I can at least respect someone trying to kill me.”

“Cool your heels, I am referring to this...” the nobleman gestured at the long box he was sitting on, “Took quite some time to arrange this little get together, after all. We couldn’t exactly have them run off when they were done”

Artorias looked closer at the nobleman sitting on the box. This man had the look of someone not in the habit of letting others get the better of him. The box itself was a simple wooden affair, and if not for the airholes discreetly on the sides, he wouldn’t have given it a second look.

“Allow me introduce myself, I am the one bankrolling this … job of yours” he held out a hand to the Knight Sergeant, “Took a while to get the information we wanted together, shame it wasn’t one of the others sent in”

The noble went for a fist bump but instead Artorias shook the nobleman’s hand, not too firm and not too limp.

“Is that not how your kind greet each other after combat?” small creases in his brow appeared as the noble frowned slightly, “That was the impression I got from the Primer...”

“As for why I failed to mention the little, shall we say, sewer rat until my friend Jean left” he indicated with a wave of his free hand, “He is not too fond of cowards who take things by underhanded force”

With a sudden jerk, the nobleman brought Art down to look him in the eye, “I do hope that this is not representative of the Out Realmer population” he relaxed the grip, “It would put many people in a different sort of mind if they heard the state of your people”

“Is that a threat,”asked Artorias evenly, “because-”

“It was a Warning, my hands are not those for steel and blood” he finally let go of the Knights hand, “And yours do not belong in the affairs of fire and ash. As for the upcoming war-”

A small cough drew the man’s attention away. The priest shuffled back in with a scrap of paper that he was scribbling in. Only now did Artorias realise the clergyman had been absent the whole of the night. He gave another cough before lifting milky eyes up to the men in the room.

“Final tally of the dead was taken, and we’re down by about two dozen knights, more than half of which I performed last rites, and three nobles. They didn’t get the same protection, and-”

The blind priest whirled about to look Artorias up and down. He stood to his full height, and the knight wondered if all priests affected an old cripple guise. The priest looked to unleash a furious tirade at the man, until the sinister looking nobleman crept up behind and murmured something indistinct to the priest. One hushed conversation later, with plenty of near silent objections from the priest, and the man was apparently placated.

“You better know what you’re doing, there has been enough deviance from the plan already” the priest spat at the noble. He walked out of the room in steady, powerful strides “None of the traps we set even went off, what’s the point of making a...”

The third nobleman woke up, having apparently been asleep in his chair the whole time. “Did I miss anything? Did we get them?”

“Apparently, honor among Outrealmers forbids them to kill one another”

“Bollocks to that!”

“Go back to sleep”

“Bloody informant didn’t say a thing about mrfmrf....snore”

The sinister nobleman, apparently the brains, or at least a large hand, in the performance turned back to Artorias, “Family, you know. Can’t live with them, etcetera. If you do feel the need to leave before the diplomat gets here, feel free. Ah, stay away from anything white”

He turned his back to the knight, and began to shift the long crate out of the room. Expecting a trail of blood, Artorias was surprised to see the crate left no mark. In fact, all of the rooms seemed to be cleared of any dust beforehand.

“Do help yourself to anything in the cellars, I’m certain you’ll not be left wanting for thirst” he tossed a key back to man, “There’s some particularly fine brandy under the cracked floorboards, just be sure not to trigger it. I’ll just send my trash downriver and let my uncle do the talking. As for the blatherer...”

>To be continued at a later hour.
Man sure makes me wish I had something to share. I've been stuck on hell for for ever. And then Lilly has been extra creative of late, so I really have not a thing. What about the rest of you boys/girls/knights.
>Damn it Jimboy shut the fuck up. Got me a story to tell.

Me? My name was Nate Foster, but that was a time ago. Nowadays I don’t even know what I call myself. But thats all later.

So there I was minding my own business, surfing the world wide web. Looking at some pictures of lovely ladies when, kazham, there I was in the middle of a fuck off forest in the snow, with naught but the clothes on my back. For once something did not remind me of nam. For one it was too fucking cold and I wasn't humping 60 pounds of gear through the mud and the trees, though the experienced part of me wished I was. What did remind me of nam was being surrounded by so many scared youngins. The good news was nothing blew up and no convicts tried to stab me in the guts, so it was already better than back then.

I was surprised at how fast my old training came back to me. But that's not the point, this old man survived and helped out where he could. I mostly taught the kids survival skills. That changed when bodies started popping up around the perimeter with arrows standing like flags. I had seen this before, and like then I knew what to do. I took up one of the recently made bows and headed out into the woods. (The bow was made out of wood of course, and out of deer guts. I had killed a few deer my self. What you do is you hide in a tree and wait for the deer to come up, then you jump out of the tree and take it by the head and give it a good twist, but never mind that where was I? Oh yes, right I had seen these kinds of tactics before and there were carpet bombing and doing the like, since I didn't have a bomber at the beck of a radioman that left me with the less fun choice.
So there I was sitting up in a tree, freezing my blocks off, the branches digging in. On the upside there was no bugs or humidity, the downside was that was due to the damn cold my fingers were in danger of getting bitten with cold. I later found a bear in a cave and managed to kill it. I cut it open and slathered the fat on my extremities. I fashioned the skin into a cloak and went back to my tree. Picking the tree had been easy it had had the most bodies show up around it. It wasn't a long wait from then. I saw two spindly looking fuckers sneaking around, reminded me of the fucking zipper heads. Same smiling about in the bush, same whispering to each other like a lot of giddy school girls, same not using the trees to get the high ground like Americans. And when I saw Americans I don't' including those fuck mothering drug dealing wetbacks. I don't care what they say, I don't remember them helping fight the pinkos. As I remember it they were on their side. So I did like the noblest of Americans and killed them while they were sleeping on Christmas. There's another thing. Its CHRISTmas, not Xmas you self entitled twats. But no me and my buddies died so you fags can do whatever the flying flipper you want. And you know what those of us who survived got? Jack and shit and jack left town. The fact that it really was Christmas by my reckoning was just an added bonus.
With a soft trawng I put an arrow l had looted from a body in ones back right between the third and fourth vertebrae. The second one got it in the throat, the wind having blown it off course. In the time it took me to nock the third arrow the last one if their little murder party was on the run. (The last one always runs.) This one I pinned in the leg right in the back of the knee. He was down and out.
Oh good, we're back in business. I should get to updating my journals once more.
Hohoho, meet Christmas me. You know have a real nice bow, plenty of arrows, and some not too shabby armor. Bit on the small side those knife ears are built like French models. Freakin girly men... least I think they were men. I didn't look real close. Oh well so then my next move was an obvious one. Using a dagger one of the flaming fuckers had been carrying I cut off their ears and made myself a fuck mothering necklace. It scared the shit out of everyone back then, I figured it would now.
From there I followed the fresh tracks they had left in the snow. Took me a good while, what with dragging three bodies behind me. Yet another thing that reminded me of nam. Well I found some kind of outpost. Military looking. Maybe sixty men. No problem, if I still had my M60E3. Which I didn't, so once again I played the hand God had dealt me. I dumped the bodies a short way off from the camp and took to the trees. It was like shooting fish in a solo cup, salad eaters never had to deal with tactics seems.
Well I did that for some time, it felt good to be back in my element. Ah who am I kidding, I was killing my self one day at a time. My old bones just weren't taking to the cold. But it was nice to be out moving instead of sitting around without anything to do. What did I tell them? Don't put me in a damn home, what do they do? They put me in a home. Having 200 guns doesn't make you insane goshdablit. In America you can have as many guns as you want. But no my faggot of a son and his communist dominatrix slut of a wife didn't want grandpa and his evil guns around their children. You know I was hunting to put food on the table for my family when I was ten. And look how I turned out... OK bad example. Pretty sure all the drugs they were forcing down my throat finally got to me and I snapped and was having one wild trip before I kicked it.
apparently somebody can't detect sarcasm.

Look dude, hide the threads if it offends you that much.
Where was I? Oh yes the tree fuckers. Well after a few groups two things happened. 1 they started getting smarter (though that might just be because I killed all the dumb ones or they were getting a hang of bush tactics.) 2 was that my necklace got way too big. So I made new ones when that happened and hung the old ones from trees. Third thing was that they gave me a name, Old man of winter. I would have preferred He who hunts elves, but it wasn't up to me. And the last thing was that I used the spoils to build myself a home and bar. Named it the Rogue Trader. The bar not my house that is. This was about a month before we raided the big town of elves. I was gearing down, my last one man ethnic cleansing had ended with me taking an arrow to the gut and a sword to the ass. Taught me I wasn’t Rambo, though in the last movie he was about my age.
Wait is it me?
no, the other guy.
So yeah... I was all set to retire for good, at home healing up. Funny that I call it home, never thought of it as home back then, then it was just a place to hang my hat and air my boots. Must be the womans touch. Eh never mind that again. I never was much for telling stories. Back to the... thing. Right, so there we were, me and the boys marching out in the midst of night, all set to go put the fear of god in them heathens. Needless to say, it reminded me of the good old days.
The battle was chaotic, I got separated from my group minutes in. The madness of armed conflict is hard to describe. Its always hot, its hectic, and it all blurs together. I had rounded my way back around to where the main force was, I think I got separated running from rain of arrows. So there I was coming round the corner of a building when I see this waif of a lass all dolled up in silver looking armor and... chains? Why chains I think, but hardly any time is allowed for that thought. She was doing some kind of voodoo shit with her hands, and was going to point it at the boys, couldn’t have that now could I. So I took all my training, all my good sense, and threw it out the window. I charged in and tackled her to the ground.
I woke later-
Hold, it is my time to tell what happened.
Right, just don’t ruin it with your flowery descriptions and text so purple it bleeds on the paper.
I will refrain.
It was joke, you tend to be so stiff that I could prop walls up with ya, loosen up, like you do when you're at the Trader.
I will try, by the way, why are we writing this down?
The readers will find it interesting methinks, also you started it.
I did not.
The proof is eight lines up Mrs. straight lace.
...That would make you Mr. straight lace.
All ready the readers learn, now get on with it. We be burnin daylight.
I will.
My name, it is Sharon del Rosa. It was Seeker Sharon del Rosa of Highgild. For those of you who know nothing of elven titles I was a battle mage in service to the Highgild family.
She means she was a dog on a leash. I hate leashes, Part of the reason I never wore a tie.
Basicly yes. So when he taclked me he disruptes a very complex disintigration spell and some how, I get a head of myself. There was a large explosion. It cauased a lot of damage I some up some time, roughly an hour later, amidsts a pile of bodies. I hands just narrowly escaped beening buried by the hands of the victors, the humans had won it seemed. But it was odd, there where some elves (almost all female) amoung the strange humans and they seemed too be at ease. The battle that had taken place not even a day ago seemingly forgotten.
It was odd,but it started to make more sense as I noticed I didn't feel the push of a high elf on my mind. They always went easy on me there, you don't want a mage to mess with magic with a head full of haze after all, hence the use of such other agents of control such as chaining me up.

They pointed their weapons at me and one spoke in the trade tonuge, clearer than before.
"If you stand down and do not harbor ill will then we have no problem. You do and we will have a proplem for all of three seconds. Lots of the female elves have joined us, will you?"
"If I don't seems clear, what if I do?"
"Well we don't kill you for one. And from there you are free to do as you will."
"Well than all hail our freeres from the opresive high elves."
After that I ended up with the repair crew. You know the good guys by thier actions. Helping the losers rebuild is a clear indicator. The damage was minimal. A few fires here and there, the most was where I had lost control of that spell. I felt horrible, for the damage and for the deaths. I asked around about the old man who had tackled me but no one had seen him since. It was clear to me that he had gotten disintigrated in the blast.
I was just kind of standing there looking at the crateor when things got all swing and I heard a voice in my head.
"Damn that was one hell of a blast. Don't remember standing up. Reminds me of this one time in Nam. TeX just got blown up and when the suat cleared he was just standing there looking at the blast marks. Wondering how the fuck that had worked. Then he can't remember anything from getting caught in the blast to standing up. Man I feel great, who new getting blown kingdom come was so good for ya. Arthritis in my hands is even gone."
This whole time I was mostly flipping out and also trying to figure out where the voice was coming from, but I couldn't move. Then my hand raises up into view.
"Wait, that ain't my gauntlet, I don't' even have a gautlent. Something odd going on here."
My shock receeded enough for me to form a coherent thought.
"Who the first born are you?"
"Call me Nate, where are ya, I don't see yah."
This had drawn a crowd and I realized that we we not thinking it but talking out loud, and everyone was staring at me.
Wait there was another one this week? Darn I missed it. Hate it when that happens. But I'm glade some people like what we do here.
We had a following of about 7 or so writers and an unknown number of readers before the holidays. We need to get back on our feet and writing though; it doesn't help that we're unorganized as fuck.
"Why are you in my head, HOW are you in my head."
"Fuck if I know, I just woke up."
One off the humans said to a elf standing next to him. "Is this common or has she gone crazy."
"Well she is a mage, they are an odd bunch. But as far as I know this isn't common."
"Should we do something?"
"That seems a good way to get turned into a toad so I say give her space."
"Sounds good to me."
This was to weird for me, I tried to banish him from my head but all I for for it was a splitting head ache.
My hands went to my head and I couldn't tell If it was me or him doing it.
"Damn it girl, don't do that again."
I tried again.
At that point everything went black after a burst of unbelievable pain.
And now its my turn again. I still can't believe you did that. Common sense says if you do something and it hurts its going to hurt next time also.
I was scared and wasn't thinking right. And I know for a fact that you did things that hurt over and over again.
When your old everything hurts.
Your only two years older than me.
Its different when your human. At my age your on your way out, at yours your just growing out of your training bra.
I never.

You do now, now sush story time. So like I was going to say next thing I knew I was strapped down to a bed with a creepy looking guy standing over me. Looked kind of like Chriesrephre Walken.
"Velcome, to my... humble, hospital."
Talked like him too.
"My name is, Harbinger. I will, be you... attending."
It was at this point Sharon woke up. She handled it with less grace.
Screaming so much screaming. Finnaly I wrestled control back from her, and stopped the screaming.
"Are ve, done?"
"Yeah she is, not really but Shea calming down."
"Subject... seems to have, DID, commonly... know as... Split personality disorder."
"Who are you talking to?"
"Space ghost."
"Does he get coast to coast? If not tell him to bugger off."
"Subject, seems to have... trouble separating, fantasy from reality."
"I'm a 80 year old man in a tityboper elven body don't talk to me about fantasy."
At that point Sharon did the eqvlent of a mental sucker punch and broke free.
"I was casting a spell and this fool screwed everything up, I just need to undo the spell."
Harbinger stood there clearly pondering something. "Subject, sounds roughly the, same... but the male voice, is slightly deeper sounding like, he is speaking down... into her chest to compensate."
"I admit nothing."
"Recommended, procedure is.. to... preform a, lobotomy... and dissect the subjects brain."
This is where things get a bit trippy. When not in the drivers seat its like tour watching a movie at a theater, but you can jump up and push the main character out of the screen and take their spot. Now for a second both of us where on the theater seating.
"What does lobotomy and dissect mean?" She asked.
"It means he wants to cut your pretty little head open, take out our brain and study it."
"That sounds bad, we need that right?"
"Yes we need that."
"So then we need to escape."
"I recommend a truce."
"Any bright ideas?"
"Your the one with the magic touch, get us free and I can take it from there."
"After that?"
"Hell if I know. Any idea what happened to my body?"
"Well shit, I was kind of attached to that body, well I guess not as strongly as I thought."
"You are not nearly as funny as you think you are."
"Bite yourself."
She hopped on stage and took control of the body.
And then after some mubo jumbo mumbilimg Harbinger was on fire and the restrants were cut. I tagged in and we were off. In pur slumber we had been taken back to Teegee and my place wasn't far.
Sulfur and gunpowder has been a very debatable subject due to how it effects the setting so heavily.

And you can go ahead and start writing; you should be caught up on the setting if you've read all the threads and we try to remain polite and helpful towards anyone with interest in reading or writing here.

The only way to get better is to jump right in and get some experience.
We ducked into the Rogue Trader and just my luck Lisa was in. She was a felim and the only wait staff I had. I really needed more help around the place. She was also semi psychotic and claimed to be some kind of psychic. My lot in life it would seem.
"I'm sorry miss, we are closed at the moment," I was about to say something but got cut off. "Your aura is strange, its like you are two different people in one body and the one seems familer. Who are you, what are you doing here, what do you want." She continued on and on with the questions Sharon wanting to answer them all, me not so much knowing it would lead only to more questions.
She stopped talking and looked me right in the eyes. "Nate? What in the name of the nine did you do?"
"I am a victim of cosmic irony. Just not sure if its skirts, knife ears or both."
"Did you tell her?"
"Tell me what."
"You should tell her before she finds out for herself."
"Lisa, she's killed people, I've killed people."
"You've killed a lot of people. Of one type."
“Can it.”
“Hold on, look it doesn’t matter if he killed a few elves. I firgured as much you know, with the attacking our village and trying to stop me from killing them.”
“You know its odd you two are getting along so well.”
“Relativity my dear, our only other options are suicide and to go crazy. Having tried the later and not wanting to touch the first that leaves only this.”
>Its like someone took the worst aspects of HFY and sexual wish-fulfillment and mashed them together.
Holy shit, you just described perfectly why these threads always disgusted me so much. I never knew what exactly it was about them that skeeved me the fuck out, but thats it right there.
“Well then I guess the next prudent thing to do would be to get you some proper clothes.”
It was at this time we realized we were wearing a white hospital gown, it could be mistaken for a dress at first or from a distance, but well it wasn’t very concealing from the back.
“My Armor! I’m going to kill that illshevilk bastard of a healer.” Sharon said starting to head towards the door.”
“Not without proper clothes, not to mention weapons.” I said pulling towards the door that would lead to the back stairs and up to my room.
Lisa just rolled her eyes and went back to getting everything set up. This is when it occurred to me that since she was setting up that meant it was morning. It had been night when the battle started, and it was noon when I came to. Before I took another step I had to know.
“Lisa, How long has it been since the battle?”
“Only two days. Well tonight it will be two full days.”
“Ok good, no big deal, its not like it was a week or anything.”
And with that we went up stairs. Sharon and I that is. My room was a small one, a bed, a table, and a chest. Well the back wall was also covered in assorted weapons and armor, not to mention a few nick nacks. I opened up the chest where I kept my clothes and started to rummage about.
“I’ll be handling the dressing and undressing thank you very much.”
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, I had a wife.”
“What happened to her?”
“Grew old, died. Like all things.”
“I don’t think I ever heard of an elf dieing of old age.”
“...And people say I lack tack.”
“Nevermind, put a damn shirt on its down right nipply in here.”
That got across the language/thought barrier, as the next thing she did was hug her arms tight to her chest, which really just made the whole thing even more awkward. Not that it was a bad sensation mind you.

To be continued after I write the rest. Need to go take my pills and harass nurses.
If there’s one thing I hate, it’s the early morning shift. I was sitting in the Rogue Trader with nothing to do. There was never anyone here at this time of day. I had bought a notebook the other day, so I plopped myself down at a table and began to write. I wasn’t sure what to write at first, scribbling down a few ideas. Then it came to me; a story of high adventure, romance, and comedy. The best part was, I knew exactly where to start.


One day a young girl had been taken by evil slavers; before that she was just a normal girl. After many hard weeks that all changed, when a tiny dragon girl with cat ears flew into the slavers’ camp. It was about the size of a small kitten, and had tiny shackles hanging from its arms and legs. It dispatched the few slavers in short work with its fiery breath. It then came up to us and melted the locks off. We rushed out of the cages, unaware of the lone guard returning from somewhere.

I saw him sneak up behind the dragon and bring his axe down with startling speed. I tackled the man, knocking him to the ground. I wouldn’t let the slaver hurt our rescuer. Suddenly the air between us started glowing with a golden hue, and the attacker vanished into motes of golden dust.

I was stunned, I had never heard about such a thing happening before.

“Wh... what just happened?” I said to nobody in particular.

The dragon said. “Your power has awakened.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN? I don’t have power. I’m just a nobody. I don’t have magic powers. That’s what makes someone an adventurer. And I’m no adventurer.”

“No. You are more. You are a magical warrior girl. You are of a rare breed of young girl, you have the power to change the world.” Said the dragon girl, landing on my head.

“But I don’t know the first thing about being a warrior.” I said, not sure about having a girl dragon thing sitting on my head.

“Worry not, for I shall teach you all you need to know.”
"So what first?"


She then described to me how magic worked. According to her, my magic worked by feeding off my emotions and will. Something about First Magic and knowing oneself. In short, I just need to will it into existence.

The dragon, whose name was Shackle, led us back to a magical city called TG. A land of many powerful Knights, but few magical girls.

As we walked about the city, Shackle giving me the tour, until we were attacked by a girl of snowy skin and midnight hair. Her tail lashed out at me, tangling around my legs. The whiplike tail swung me around, throwing me at a wall.

“Girl! Use your magic!” Shackle shouted.

“Right, getter BEAM BREAKER!” I said pointing at the now flying girl. She also shot a beam of magic at me from her chest.

The beams collided with a resounding explosion, sending us both flying. When the smoke cleared, I pulled myself up off the ground. We were in the middle of a giant crater, and we were both not wearing clothes anymore. The blast had also flung Shackel far away.

“Ha, I’ve won. Now you are mine.” She said drawing nearer, her tail wiggling in the air like a evil snake.

“What do you mean by ‘mine’?”

“Hold on to your toes and you’ll find out,” she said with an evil grin.

From her tail shot a beam of magic, she was so close I didn’t have time to dodge. It struck me right in the stomach. I fell to my Knees as a wave of pain and pleasure washed over me. She was on top me now. I could see what was coming, and then I heard someone shout out.

“Remove thine self from her, foul demon.”

We both looked over to see a teenage Kanin with wolfish features. He was holding a massive sword and wearing a red leather coat.
Holy shit, the Harem Knights are back in force and with some of the old guard too! Fantastic!

Still, much as I don't want to get involved in the whining, we probably at least try to make this all LOOK /tg/-related guys... Wasn't there a fully-fledged system, tailor-made for the setting thought up one time? If not, then hey, let's make one. It'll keep some of the complaints off our backs.

I still say sulphur should be as rare as it was first envisioned. I must have missed the point where it was suddenly everywhere, but I am guessing someone mistook availability for abundance and no-one corrected them about it.

Speaking as someone who specifically wrote Sir Andrew as not having a waifu, I resent the accusation that this is meaningless, sexual wish-fulfilment. More than the 'lawl, elf secks' angle, I think what most of us cherish most about the setting is the companionship aspect of it. Let's face it; by and large, the neckbeard is a lonely beast and deep within the blackened coals that substitute our hearts, we all long for someone to accept and cherish us, someone who understands and truly loves us. Keep in mind, the very phrase that started this all, "I want to rub some elf ears," is not even, by itself, sexual. It's just an indicator of closeness and affection.
“How cute, a boy hero. With quite the compensator. I’d say you could have her, but I don’t think your arm has the girth to take her.”

“I think I rather not be taken by anyone.” I said, trying not to think about how close her tail was.

“Sush, you don’t get a say. You lost. Now to the victors go the spoils.”

A man in a large suit of armor flew through the air and kicked the monster off of me.

“Damn it Lilly we’ve been over this. You can only rape me or Meina.”

“But she’s a magical girl. If I get her now then I can steal her powers.”

“I don’t care Cody. Now come on. Meina is pissed about your latest prank and I need your help undoing it.”

“The solvent is hidden in the library.”

“That’s nice. You get to help her apply it to her lady parts. I am not getting involved with this one. I’ve seen this porno. It ends with my dick stuck in something.”

The strange couple then left, leaving me standing there with the wolfboy. He turned his head and removed his coat, tossing it at me.

“Thank you. My name is Alice. Yours?”

“Seamus of the McVisher Clann. We should get you some clothes.”

“That would be nice.” I said, blushing as I realized what he had seen.

“Well then my house isn’t far. I think my sister had something in your size.”

He lead me to his house. It was a small place, not far from the edge of town. He pointed me to a chest and then excused himself from the room. I dug around for a few before finding something that fit. I went out to the main room where he was.

“Your sister won’t mind me borrowing these?”

“She won’t. I also know she would want you to keep them.”

“Well I’ll have to tell her thank you sometime.”

“So you new in town?” He asked looking down quickly.

“Yeah just got here today. How about you?”

“Been here awhile. Just became a Knight. I was that guy’s squire.”

“What guy’s?”
Well spoken Red, and glad to have you back. And we never got far into that idea so if you want to give it a go
"The guy who kick Lil off of you, Jim D. Hat is his name."

“That’s an odd name. So you're a knight, have you been on any adventures?”

“A couple.”

“Find anything cool?”

“Some odds and ends. I did find a magic necklace though.”

“Really? What’s it do?”

“Don’t know, just know it’s magical.”

“Can I see it?”

“Sure why not.” He said with a sigh.

He got up and went over to a dresser and pulled out a large beaded necklace.

“This is it. No clue what it does though.”

“You should wear it, I think it would look nice on you.” I told him.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Not a good idea? But it’ll look great on you! Here, let me put it on for you.” I said, pulling it from his hands and throwing it over his head.

“You shouldn’t play with magic things like that.” He yelled, grabbing the necklace and pulling it from his neck. Or at least he tried to. It wouldn’t budge, not an inch. “See, this is why you never do this kind of crap.”

“I’m sure it’s harmless. Now why don’t we have something to eat, I’m hungry. Sit down and I’ll cook something as a thank you.”

“No thank you. Help yourself, but I’m not hungry.”


And then he fell to the floor. But he fell funny, like his neck was really heavy... oops. I got down next to him.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think that would happen.” I apologised.

“Ghwarh.” He grunted.

“Oh crap. You can’t talk. Um... uh.” I then tried to help him up, but I ended up falling instead. Somehow he ended up on top. Our heads were together, our lips less than an inch apart. His hand was squeezing my breast rather painfully.

“Jetset PUSH.” I shouted pushing him off of me with my magic.

I pushed too hard though and he went flying up into the air, colliding with the ceiling. Course then gravity proved to be a cruel mistress and he fell back down, hard.

We both let out shouts of pain. Followed with much moaning as we lay there to hurt to move.

The door opened up. In walked in a little Kanin woman.

“Oh I’m sorry dear. Didn’t know you had company. I just remembered I forgot something at the store. I’ll be back in two hours.” She said turning around.

“Its not what it looks like.” We both shouted out at the same time.

“That’s nice. Whatever it is, have fun.” She said closing the door behind her.


“Excuse me, miss.” I jumped from the table where I had been writing.

“I’m so sorry. Take a seat, I’ll be right with you.”
Oh good lord, I wouldn't even know where to start. I've always liked the roll-and-keep system though, so there's a starting point, The majority of the work is easy, but the core focus is what we need to focus on. What makes the Harem Knights game unique?

Simple answer: The waifus. There needs to be a mechanical way to represent the strength of a knight's love and a way to measure how it might effect them. I would propose a key stat to act like void points in L5R, to add unique effects to your roll or action, perhaps based on key words used to describe a knight's waifu/s? Thing is, how would that work exactly? And how would it be balanced?

Sadly, I can't contribute much now... It's 3AM here and I need to get to bed. Long love the Knights, everyone.
It should be on suptg somewhere the trick is finding it.

==========================The Next Day==========================

It was a pain keeping my notebook from my boyfriend yesterday; I think he’s cute when jumping around trying to get the notebook. I’m not sure how he’d react to what I’d written, but I bet his mom would love it.

The morning drag was just that, a drag. Evening shift is the best, the people and the energy. It just feels like living. Morning on the other hand, feels like a slow cold death. Once again with only like one person at the Trader. I sat down, pulled out my notebook and began to write.


We untangled ourselves from the floor. There was an awkward moment were we just sat and stared at each other.

“So...” I looked down. “Sorry about that.”

He sighed. “Its alright. I was told stuff like this would happen, what with being a knight. I’m going to go see about undoing this collar. It would most likely help if you came along. It never did this stuff before.”

“Where we going?”

“Jim D. Hats place. He was my mentor and probaly has some idea of what to do.”

“Urk... The guy with the demon girl?”

“That’s the one. You don’t have to come.”

“No. I got you into this mess and I won’t abandon you just because of some over sexed up magic girl.”

We went back into the city. He lead me into some back alleyway. Seemed legit.

“You can’t tell anyone about this. Jim would be pissed.”

“About what? Some dingy alley?”

“He placed his hand on a archway. And said some gibberish. There was a flash of light and the arch was filled with a blue glowing light.

“Oh. That. What is that?”

“Magic portal thingy. Well come on.” He said holding out a hand. I took it and we stepped on through.

It felt... strange, like I was being torn to piece and put back together, but in a good kind of way. What didn't feel so hot was my head. It felt like it was in a vice for a few seconds afterward.

“That. Was. Odd.”

“Yeah, you get used to it.”

We were in a luscious court yard. Sitting there in two chairs next to a table was the guy from earlier and a Holstaurus.

“Hey, sup?” The guy said putting down a large glass of milk. I tried not to think about that.

“Got into a bit of trouble.”

“How many bodies do I need to disappear and people that Lilly needs to blackmail?”

“Um... I put this necklace on Seamus and it won’t come off. He thought you could help.”

“Did you try butter?” Said the Holstaurus with a laugh.

“No, should I have?”

“Don’t listen to her, kid. She’s been a bit goofy lately.”

“That’s cause I’m winning.”

“Winning what?” I asked.

“Prank war with Lil.”

“A prank war?”

“Yep. Don’t recommend going in the house. More booby traps in there at the moment than in hell.”

“Heh, booby traps. Its funny because thats what Lil’s are.”

“So, can you help take off the necklace?” I said, trying to redirect the conversation.

“Let me take a look.” He said getting up from his chair. “It do anything?”

“It makes him do something if I say a certain word.”

“And the word is?”

“Do I have to say it?”

“Yep. Best way to figure out what’s going on.”

I turned to Seamus with a teary look. “Sit” I said.

And nothing happend.

“Yes that is very strange. Tell me did you eat any orcish food recently?”
“No... Why?”

“Just wondering. Ok was there anything different when you said it? Tone, emotion, that kind of thing?”

“Well she was barking orders.”

“No I wasn’t, Shut up and SIT down.”

He fell to the ground face first again. The two having a laugh at his expense. I felt horrible. Jim must have seen it on my face as he said.

“Don’t worry he’s been in worse than this. Right boy?”


“That mean yes. Meia can you go free Lil. I think I’m going to need her help on this one.”

“Sure. I’ll go do that. Provided you tell her I won.”

“Just don’t hurt him...”

“He’ll be fine. Lil won’t hurt him. Not her type. Innocent girls and strong men. Not little boys.”


“I’ll stop calling you a little boy when you stop doing dumb crap like this.”

A few minutes latter Meia came back with Lil, who was wearing a shirt with giant holes in the chest. She was holding her breast and rubbing them gently.

“Hanging like that hurts you know.”

“I know. Now if you help Seamus I’ll kiss you boobos and make them all better.”

“Deal. It’s a command collar. Old demon toy. Can only be removed by a kiss of true love. Just don’t order him to do anything and you won’t have a problem.”

“Thats it?”

“Thats it. And try to remove it by force and it cuts off his head.”

“Thats horrible.”



In the end I was offered a room at their place until I got on my feet, as their place was huge, and a promise that I was safe inside the castle. Safe from Lil and Meia that is.

Soon after that I got a job at the Rogue Trader, as a barmaid. I spent a lot of my free time with Seamus. He wasn’t mad about the whole collar thing. I got to know his mother, she was disappointed when she found out I wasn’t sleeping with Seamus. Though she kept mumbling about giving it time. I got to know a lot of the Knights at my job as it was their hang out. That included Lil and Meia. The promise not protecting me outside of the castle, I learned things fast. Such as watch for loopholes when dealing with demons. I also learned to play their game. Which was fun at times.

It was a slow boring afternoon at the Trader, I was covering another girls shift as she was out sick. Seamus stopped by and I had an idea to help pass the time.

“Hey Seamus. Would you get me a cup of coffee?”

And he was off.

He came back a few minutes later. Hot cup of coffee in hand.

“Thank you Seamus. Would you kindly get me a keg of beer from the back.”

“What do you want with a keg of beer?”

“Get me the keg and you’ll find out.”
Once again he was off, not entirely of his own volition.

He came back carrying a large keg on his shoulder. I’ll admit it made me feel a little hot on the inside.

“Thank you Seamus. How about pouring the both of us a beer. Don’t put in the spigot.”

Seamus slashed the top of the keg off with his sword. Picked up the keg and poured two mug fulls of beer. A girl could get used to that kind of show. We drank our beers and when we were done I had one more request.

“Now would you kindly get me the bong of the demon lord Kztuhs.”

Before he could voice any objections he was off. The effect seemed to be growing stronger. The bong was something I had heard about from Lil. Supposedly it had some magical effect of limiting the effects of heavy drinking, something like it only makes you drunk and none of the side effects.

About six long hours later Seamus came busting through the door, beaten and bruised. Bong in hand.

“Good job. Now stick it in the keg you opened earlier. Then lift the keg and chug it.”

And so he did, crowd cheering him on the whole way.

Finally he had drained the whole thing. He looked like he was about to burst.

“Well my shift is over. Lets go home, your home.” I said wrapping my arms around him and leaning up against him.

I lead him to his house, he stumbled drunkenly the whole way their. We went in, passed by his mother who said.

“Good, you got him drunk this time. Well I need to go to the store, I’ll be gone for a few hours. Have fun.”

We went up stairs to his room. I pushed him down onto his bed, then jumped on top of him.

“You sure know how to make things hard on a girl and yourself. Making me take the lead. Not catching my hints. I’ll just have to make you mine.”

I planted a passionate kiss on his lips. There was a soft clicking sound, and the collar fell off.

“Now make love to me like you mean it.”
Chapter One End
>you want a whole fucking harem of abhumans who unconditionally love you and want to fuck you 12 ways from Sunday
Some people like abhumans. I haven't seen it harming anyone or encouraging something like intolerance or hatred. Quite the opposite in fact, as the lore has Teegee being a land that's growing quite healthily due to immigrants, attracted by the policies of tolerance and respect. Further, well-written pieces abound wherein the emotions of the characters are fully explored and the relationship is fleshed out and made realistic. Simpler-written, unrealistic stories written perhaps by those with a lack of experience or mis-informed faith in their own abilities exist too, but in any artistic medium, there is a wide margin of skill. Would you disparage a schoolchild's drawing taped to the fridge, just because it's not the Mona Lisa? As long as it is created in humility, in the knowledge that not everyone will like what you've done and in the spirit of hoping to add something to a setting, or genre, or medium, or to improve your own skills, all art has me-

>Furthermore, you have a guy dedicated to writing stories about futa dragons and BDSM sex shops and shit
...And then there's stuff like that. Well put.

I'm not saying I approve of ALL of what's been made of the Harem Knights, I'm just saying you can't tar it all with the same brush.
BTW It was I who added some extra races (Spirit and Elemental). You can change the whole names of the elementals to whatever you want to as long as the concept still stands. Also possibly maybe someone adding an elemental summoning section to the magic details if they are interested. (Making a pact or something)

I don't know if anyone has a Yuki-onna waifu (Snow Woman). Hence the reason I added the Snow folk class of spirits.
Thanks for the work you did, and yes some one had a Yuki-onna waifu already. Also I only took a brief look at it but everything seems in order, so I like the stuff you added.

There are no such things as futa dragons, that was one guy, by the name of Lem, rage trolling.

Me and Jim talked about the sex shop and BDSM though and he/we have agreed to tone it down.
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Oh my god, it's back.

holy fuck

You may remember-or might not, I wasn't very memorable- me as "He of Little Importance." Now running a quest, actually, under this name.

I wrote about snow-ninjas. Still writing about snow ninjas actually.

and putting my mediocre drawfag skills to use.

I'm to ask right away: Drow. Any expansion on them, lore or fluff-wise?

I want my drow hippie bard waifu to be viable...
Yeah, go for it dude, no expansions on them, still all for the whole hippy factor.
I can't remember what we had on Drow, so it's probably a free area to expand and write about as you please.
If you dislike it, hide it. I'm not going to force you to read anything I write.

Why are you even here?

I am many kinds of faggot. I just prefer to rein in my faggot when I run my quest. You'll notice I'm not much a faggot when I quest. I can tell because I've seen faggot quests, and mine isn't one.

My quest is totally faggy and we all know it.


awesome, thanks.
Gonna have to get back on the writing wagon, then.
>And now we have some stuff from the library of Teegee, donated by some book nerd.

{An Excerpt from Magic and You: A Beginners Guide to the Wild Way,
There is a lot of talk about the classes of magic, Moutaintongue and Clerical being the big topics. I will address the simpler topic first. A lot of people do not believe Clerical magic exists, or that it is any different than the other forms of magic. People have argued that it is Autistic, Sensate, or Drunk. But the truth is more disturbing than that. When you perform magic from from one of those schools there is an energy drain, typically from the mage and some times some from the surroundings. The nature of “Mana” and its relation to the soul is a whole other topic. But what makes Faith magic so dangerous and different is two things. First is that Faith magic follows no law of reason, yes one can petition the higher powers through ceremony to try to win the favor of said power. But that does not mean it will work, likewise sometimes the gods just do what they want spontaneously with no rhyme or reason. The second thing is that when Faith magic happens, it never fails and takes no “Mana” from the person who could be called the “source” of the event. Regrow a limb or turn water to wine? Zero cost, doesn’t seem to matter the size or scale of the event. With the other schools there is always a cost of some amount.

Another thing about miracles is that they do not show up as magic. A good mage can often feel magic about. Miracles just happen, without any such tells. This could prove disastrous if a servant or servants of a higher power ever get a miracle of destroying Teegee. As it would most likely happen without warning or build up.

But the good news is that it seems for the most part that miracles are limited to the powers domain. One thing should be noted though, I use the term higher power and domain so much for a reason. There have been occasions where something happens that fits no known god by means of a source that has no ties to any god. Faith magic is an apt term as it seems there are domains for one faith. Fittingly there was a Kanin warrior (A Stout Anti-theist as any Kanin) who manifested a miracle of a sunrise during a pitched battle against the Night Demons, turning the tide in their favour. While the sun falls under the power of no known god, some call it a act by a war god, but since Ter has no love for the Kanin and the Kanin killed their god long ago, it is very doubtful that it was. Most believe that the Kanin tapped into the domain of hope or some such.

Moving on to Mountaintongue....}
>More books
An Excerpt from Of Magic and Miracles
Written by the Mad Monks of Mith, in one of their more lucid moments, this book, eventually, describes the seemingly fine but practically huge divide between the workings of mages and the practices of priests. After completion, several covenants of wizards and preachers, independently, rallied forces against the monk’s monastery forts. When all attacks were subsequently beaten back, the Monks enjoyed the rest of their solitude in peace, off the spoils of the assailants.

-until none would face him in the arena of battle. And so from that day forward, all closed containers were known as boxes! And on that note, how much can the mortal body contain when it comes the their natural capacity to use magic is a point of most contention. Has been ever since the first mageling set their clothes on fire. While wizards and witches and other words that mean one who dabbles with magic can wreak actions and craft objects most mortal men would deem non-natural or against the workings of the world, there is a limit to how much they can do at once. A resource they described as Mana, a word formed from ancient times, which exists in all things, living beings more commonly than most, which they use to form spells and work their will into the environment.
Preposterous. There is no such hard definition. This is evident in the blood magic of older, more primal times, that can alter the state of living things with their vital fluids-

-and then everyone moved to get away from the humming. Even in my deepest dreams, Hum Ho Hee. But the point is that even mages can admit that Mana is not a cut and dry definition. Now, while other, more foolish and self-assured, men would make claims that priests and other names that mean followers of a higher cause, usually a deity of divine nature, are just magicians who gain Mana from a different source, they have no idea what they’re talking about. The first, very first, step in their thought processes begins with the equating of faith, prayer or other religious ritual with magic, sometimes they called it Divine Magic, other times they call it Clerical, as if a person’s or object’s profession had anything to do with miracles. We would term them heretic, but since that term is used by more zealous persons, usually in pursuit of more selfish goals, we’ll just call them wrong.

But the purpose of this book is not to insult the layman for their failings of reading theology as arcane artistry, if we did we’d just need several barrels of pitch, some foul smelling pig dung, a hefty saw or three-

-and then we would flip the pig, thus winning the match and bringing shame to their family for three generations. They would call it miraculous if pious and magical if not, but it’s really just sleight of hand. Besides, all magic fails to work under those conditions, when unshakeable faith and conviction would see through such trappings. Sadly, supplies of that starless material are far and few between, especially once the dwarves figured out how to stop mountains from capping off.

We believe we can trace the point of this confusion to the works of animists and shamans, particularly of the Orcish variety, who pull double duty as priests of their respective gods and liaisons with the spiritual. Usually with the aid of hefty narcotics and hallucinogens, or prosthetics. Of course, the last time anyone listened to them in seriousness, the rivers and Inland seas drained out for a century, which half explains the dustbowl to the south, along with-

-and then they’d make you their Queen. Or King. Long story short, Magic does not equal Miracles. If it did, we’d make every witch and two note sorcerer a Saint or a Lord. Again, thank you very much First Empire. There are circumstances where one fails where the other one does not, and if mutual exclusivity isn’t proof enough of the difference between faith and magic, then you require demonstration that rational argument cannot provide.

>Will follow up leads. They have monasteries all over Wastes.
I return only to find so much faggotry, but I do like Gale and his quest so nevermind him. Onward with killing shit and starting wars.

Some time earlier, in the walls of Teegee...

Catmas was coming, and so did letters and parcels flooding in from abroad, bearing messages of hope and gifts of joy. Until recently the greatest speed of information was by wing or by horse, which still held true for most of the continent of Eurona. This meant that the postal service was in more of a rush than any other time of the year, sacks full of messages and carts full of presents. The greater strain on these poor messengers was the sheer variety of mediums used to send letters. The paper and pulp industry worked their best, but parchments and vellum were the standard tools of humans, a form of leaf papyrus in elven pen, sheets of finely carved rock for the dwarves and strung bone and beads for the wastelanders. At one point there was a tattooed fish, still swimming in a perfectly sealed orb of water. Such was the burden of the most multicultural city throughout the nations.

The entire central post office was bustling with lines of customers and letter posters, either trying to post packages of their own or desperately rechecking to see if any had arrived for them. And that was by day. By night, extra hands had been called in, just to sort through the mountains and mountains of mail, oftentimes misspelled, fragile, unorthodox or dangerous to the handler. The neighbours would come around and complain about the noise, only to find themselves being drafted into mail sorting as well!

It was busy, busy, busy, and the Postmaster Central had her hands, talons rather, full with the business of juggling incoming and outgoing mail routes. Yet another all nighter, it seemed, and nobody was looking forward to the overtime pay. Looking down at the desk, she shuffled some of the high profile letters, contracts and letters to nobles, before deciding she needed a pick me up. She went into the break room, and put another pot of high strength tea onto the fires, caffeine was a rare commodity, even in Teegee. A door opened somewhere in the distance, but it was nothing new, late deliveries and night postmen happened all the time. It was a rare thing for a night with no new mail.

While she waited for the water to boil, she began sorting through some of the mail left in her pocket. A large collection of greetings cards, some junk mail, and assorted leaflets. It had a calming effect on her, arranging things, and she enjoyed seeing the little pictures on the postcards and Catmas cards. A cup of tea was placed in front of her at one point, which she accepted with a smile, and she drank the rest of the cup before wondering who poured it.
Looking at the cup and saucer for a bit, she stood up and went to look for whoever entered the break room without her notice. The corridors were still filled with boxes of sorted mail for collection early dawn, and moving through was hard enough without the night crew shuffling about. Another postal officer, dressed in uniform, offered seeing a late shift worker, maybe a shanghaied citizen, walking around the offices. Someone in the junior wing, perhaps.

The postal officer watched the Postmaster Central step off to the junior wings, before heading to her office, counting the moments before the juniors fessed up to not entering the break room. But they were stealing stamps, so he had time. He pulled his cap low, and turned to walk around the night sorters while they in turn ignored him. A sheaf of sorted letters was thrust into his hand, and he carried it around like a diamond, only adding to his postal image.

The door was locked, but a simple key change had given him a copy earlier, and the spy was in. Scanning the room to imprint its untouched state into his mind, he began delicately looking through drawers and papers with gloved hands, taking care not to disturb any of the piles too much. He found what he wanted in the third pile, letters sent to knights under the guise of winter work.
A list of names pulled out from a secret pocket, and a quick comparison was run. These knights were not yet blooded, these were unsuited to counter assassins, these did not have the requisite military experience. They ended up with a few names both suitable for substitution and immediate dispatch. Artorias being one of them. Another secret pocket yielded unglued envelopes, with slight gumming from the steam in the break room, and letters were put into new sheaths. Working quickly, he put everything back in place, letters and folios put back in near haphazard state. The finishing touch before he left was to put the sorted letters into a box outside the office door, and locked the room before moving out into the night mail room.

Postal uniform giving him access to the cramped corridors, he passed the junior wing, noting with some satisfaction the rant the senior harpy was giving the thieving underlings. The night coaches were arriving, to drop off mail and pick up sorting, so a small crowd of nocturnal citizens was waiting for their share of letters. Ducking into an out of view hollow, the spy switched his clothes inside out, postal uniform jacket turning into a winter wear longcoat, and the cap was reversed into a woolen hat. K stepped into the throng and quickly disappeared, lost like a snowflake in a blizzard.
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>but I do like Gale and his quest so nevermind him
Aw, thanks.

Also, while I won't be contributing for a while (the aforementioned quest runs both weekend days) I'm perfectly willing to drawfag every now and again...
A solemn gang sat at a table. A feast sat before them, but no one touched a thing. Everyone knew why they had been called, things were going sideways lack a like a stack of 258 pizzas 800 years old. So bad that they had already taken care of their respective parts of the contingency plan.

Boss sat at the head of the table, Wyona standing at his side. “Well, I think you all know why I called you here. The game’s over. It was a great adventure, but all good things must come to an end, so I figured this would be one last supper.”

“This Sucks, I wanted things to end with a bang not a whimper.” Said the ever blood thirsty Piko.

“Things were just falling apart towards the end. Like a jenga tower.” Abe replied.

“I liked that one game, what was it Dread?” Piped in George.

“You mean the one where you could only lose by ruining everything and knocking over the tower, and until you knocked over the tower you were invincible?” Jake asked.

“I didn’t like that one, the more you did the more likely you were to fail horribly.” Said Piko.
They finally got to eating, and joking, telling stories and just generally having a good time. Abe spoke up with a cough. “Ya, so you guys know, if you're ever out in the Felim jungle look us up.”

“You’re going out there? But it’s so far.” Piko whined.

“Where are you two going to?” Jez asked.

“Staying right here. Even planning something special, a way to make the pin a sure thing. And... well I don’t have a lot of time left, I can feel it, the darkness is eating at me. Me and Jake decided we are going on one last run. If we pull it off we won’t have to worry about running and hiding and if we don’t well, it won’t matter then.”

Piko and Jake laid out their plan to the others, everyone but Boss, Abe, and Jez were for it.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, but...”

“You got a kid on the way, of course you're not going,” Piko told Jez after a somewhat heated argument, “the battlefield is no place for pregnant cows.” She teased.

“No, what about old maids?”

“Why you cheeky-” Piko was interrupted by a cube of jello splattering against her face. This caused the two to break out into a wrestling match food fight.

Abe looked to Jake and said without a hint of sarcasm, “Just like old times.”

As the food fight went on, a thought occurred to Abe. “Boss?”

“Hardly Boss anymore.”

“You still are to me. But what are you going to do?”

“Stay here, raise my kids, live out the rest of my days. What about the you know?”

“Still part of the plan.”

“Damn, you always were ice when it came to your plans.”
>Here we fucking go this is the one I've been building up to a big blow it out your ass smack down from hell. There Will Be Blood, but better than the movie.

The flowers were in bloom, birds danced about the sky, and cherry blossoms filled the air. The city of Navero, rich and resplendent, was full of joy this day. Spring had arrived and with flowers in full bloom, so were the young maidens. Today, two major noble houses did aspire to join their lines, in holy matrimony meet. The bells were tolling, the streets covered in revelry and strung with banners and ribbons. Flags of rearing bears were waved beside pennants of crouching foxes, the heraldry of the stout hearted Jora and the keen minded Jenall. This was a day for happiness, and many of the citizenry did choose to pledge their vows as well this fine spring day.

A number of knights had been called out as a diplomatic relations activity, since it worked so well the last time. Among their number was one of the famed Harem Knights of TeeGee, Light of the Old Realm.

The cathedral was resplendent. The guard out in full force. Archers on all the rooftops. A large, possibly the largest in recent history, anti-magic field had been set up around the whole block the cathedral was on.

People were coming and going like mad, carriages from all over were arriving. In short the city of bells was alive with celebration. All for the Bride and Groom who had been in hiding for awhile. The threat of death was absent, even though that is what had the men of arms so on guard.

Upon arriving I approached a priest, as he had the biggest hat and looked like he knew what he was doing. Giving me a glance, he directed me down one of the side halls, towards the quarters of a bishop.

I heard muffled shouting through the door as I approached.

“-still don’t see why it had to be this way” said a voice pleading.
“You know perfectly well why. The flock has made its say and my services are needed elsewhere” This voice that of authority.

“But you know that I-”

Throwing caution to the wind I opened the door, I saw two men of the cloth, one dressed as a simple father in red and black, the other a bishop of white and black.

“We have company.” said the bishop.

“I know” the priest clasped his forearms with the bishop, I could hear the slight clink of metal as the arms collided.

“Perform well today.”

“Have faith.”

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted, one of the choir has gone missing and the rest won’t tell where they are. Where am I going to get a replacement...” the simply robed clergyman said, shuffling out of the bishop’s quarters and leaving the two men to talk.

I stood straight and collected myself.

“Hello.” I said, a tone higher than I aimed. “I am Alaric of Teegee. I wanted to ask if there was anything in specific I could do to help around.”

The bishop approached me, looking me up and down while circling around. Finally returning to face my face, he laid an arm out.

“Well met, Alaric of Teegee. I am Bishop Carter, in charge of the proceedings and security about the church.

“To be honest, I didn’t expect you to be so... nice. Most of our profession tell me they get their heads bitten off once an Outrealmer gets a sniff of Iron” the bishop said plainly.

“Ah, yeah. Don’t get me wrong; we’re soldiers first and foremost. I wouldn’t have been here if I didn’t know how to use this”, I patted the pommel of the sword on my hip. “But don’t worry. I, personally, don’t like to draw my blade until I’ve found a proper reason to do so.”

“And personally, I preferred to keep the wedding an insular affair” Carter rolled his eyes upwards at this, “-But orders from above and asides wanted otherwise, so here we are. I’ve heard of your prowess in battle, well, those that don’t fall, which is more than I can say for most. I am impressed, in fact, how you managed to make such a name in such a short time”

“Well, if you need warriors, I can think of few places better to look than Teegee.” I let out a small grin. “By the way, I needed to ask you if you expected any problems here. The more details I get, the better I can complete my task.”

“Do you want the official lineup, the rumour mill, or the ones we actually prepared?”

“I’d better just get all of them.” I responded.

The bishop walked over to a wall and wheeled out a board upon which a map of the city was pinned. Lines of string and tacks were placed about the map, centered upon the walls and the cathedral. The bishop pulled out a retracting pointer with practiced motions and began a fast paced rundown.

“You’ve no doubt seen the archers about the city, they’ve been given instructions to observe and report suspicious persons for the most part. They’ve been on triple grouping and know each other well enough so no chance of impersonations, same with the patrolling guards. They’re some of the best and trustworthiest about, and each carry whistles and things to signal reinforcements.

“If you looked at the sky recently, you’d have seen the air sparkle and dance around. Those are sentinels put into place and they each sweep at random for the inhuman influences. The wizards like to boast about the strength of the field put around the cathedral, and it is indeed quite the beast to put up with. Also, ever since my colleague encountered the raven, we’ve begun placing thick protection on our stained windows, some of which are very old and irreplaceable. And that’s what the population knows about the security on the outside.”

He picked up a messy stack of papers with one hand, putting the pointer down and read them out as he flicked through.

“And here’s what the people talk about. The Bride and Groom are long lost twins, they are angels from above and demons from below, they are lovers born into a new life with the gods conspiring to keep them apart, they are actually a legion of the unwed taking their vows today.”

“The families made a deal with the Fey, they made a deal with the Demons, they made a deal with a Mr. Cypher, they made a deal with the Free Kingdoms, they made a deal with Myrthter. Angels are watching, Demons are watching, fat old men in unfitting shirts are watching, jealous kings watch while plotting an attack.”

By now the bishop was losing breath, “The guards are orc converts, the archers are elves, the Cardinal himself is conducting, the Knights Harem arrived in secret and the floor is actually brimstone.”

Pausing to catch his breath, the bishop began throwing out over half the script he had in his hands. “Since you are present, some of the rumours have merit to them” with one arm he flipped the board over, “-here’s what they don’t know.”

Before he started anew, he gave me a look, “Some of what I am about to say is very important, perhaps not to you, but plenty of others. I have in good faith you are a man of integrity.”

“I have little else to my name.” I stated.

The bishop gave a simple nod, going into a stance that I can only call lecture mode, “The Fey Folk have no presence here, Winter is tied up in some fishy business and Summer has a long standing agreement with the city. Demons underwent a revolution of sorts, and their Old ones have no interest in mortal matters for today. Our Angels were petitioned for aid earlier, which I’ll get to in a bit, but for the most, good men of Iron reside in the city, no apostates or cultists to to be found.

“The alleyways, tunnels and other dark nooks have been prepared with much deliberation by the assassins guild, and they’ve been paid as additional security. They’ll keep eyes and ears out for any ne'er do wells, especially for the common folk. The secret tunnels and safe holes of this section of the city have been sealed up, or made very uncooperative to any blackguard. The anti-magic field is technically a magic suppressor, and is also supplemented with a hidden magic detection field, which covers a lot more ground. Our own magic users are quite invested, both materially and emotionally, in the well being of the soon to be wed.

“As for the inside of the cathedral itself, apart from yourself, there are several security measures built in after centuries of chronic invasion. Reinforcing, reinforcing everywhere. And that of people knowing one other well enough to predict patterns. Entry is by invitation or organization only, so we still have time while nobles haggle and argue over seating rights, and any noble worth their heritage knows when one has infiltrated their ranks. They’ve also brought some of their little toys in, some of which are quite nasty when they go off, and I must ask you if you are, as you say, packing?”

“Well”, I patted the sword’s pommel with a gauntleted hand. “There’s this. Will it do?”

“Hmm, can it do tricks?”

“Tricks.... it can cut things. Also stab. And sometimes bash.”
I pulled my hand back away from the injured man lying in bed.

The people surrounding us looked at me strangely and started talking amongst themselves.

But while I was noticing the people around me and trying to discern what they were talking about, I began to feel faint from whatever I just did, my limbs felt numb and I fell to the ground on my knees using one of the side tables to support myself.

I muttered under my own breath "Tired..."

Aisha walked closer to me, helped me on my feet and guided me out of the tent as she moved the people around us out of the way.

We walked over to a wall and she placed my back against it. I slid down to the ground as if my body were made of lead. With my back propped against the wall I fell asleep.

The last thing I saw before I shut my eyes was Aisha, looking somewhat concerned...
I too, would love to be a novelist. Maybe thats why I find all of this so appalling.
“Well, would you like one?” the bishop stepped in a bit closer, “They’re quite modern”

“...One of what?” I asked suspiciously.

“Ah, so they don’t hand them out like sweets in your city, my mistake”, the bishop patted one of his sides,“Nevertheless, back to the planning”

“The nobles are a formidable force on their own, even without their toys.The Jora clan are capable killers, and have brought in magical assistance, which we made sure to be the exception. I recommend you stop by the Jenall’s as well, just to ask if there’s anything you need to take, being a late recruitment.”

“Do you need me to repeat anything?”

“No, I think I got it.” I replied.

The bishop looked outside at the crowds and the bells, “We still have some time before the bride and groom arrive. Go. Take some time to familiarise yourself and find something- I mean, somewhere to fight from. I’ll finalise the preparations from here”

I left the man of Iron and went out to have a look at the church itself. It was a rather simple layout, there was a small set of stairs leading up to a double set of large oaken doors. Past that was a small lobby like section, with tables to the sides. Past that it widened out a bit and that was the main hall, were rows of pews filled the floor, past that was a pulpit off to the left of the stage and then there was the stage itself. Really more of a raised platform. Behind that was a large musical organ. Off to the sides of the main hall were semi hidden doors in recesses. Behind these doors were staircases going down into the ground, leading to a number of lower floors. The whole thing could be likened to a vault of iron. The Ceiling of the place was vaulted, about 50 feet high. Bells could be seen up there, silent compared to the cacophony of the streets outside. A commotion had been brewing for a while, and I noted the large humdrum of noblemen and ladies, split into two general groups.
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>Aisha the Catgirl
One was gathered by the side with banners and heraldry advertising bears, and the various ways one could strike a foe down. They must be the Jora. By process of elimination, the other side with symbols of foxes, cups and coin must be the Jenall, the bride’s kin. Some noticed my entrance, and broke away to meet me.

A lank and slightly drunk looking man stumbled over, pale strands of fair hair matted and covering a face that looked like it was three sheets to the wind. “S-so, am I-uh to believe that you! Are uh noble knight of Earther-er? What’s it like, having s-so many women after your pants- what’s in your pants”

I could smell something had died and gone to alcoholic heaven, everything about the man screamed do not let him drive your carriage home.

“I, what? I’m from Teegee, if that’s what you’re asking.” I replied. I glanced around from where he stumbled from. Perhaps there was someone I could send him to?

“Adam? Your medicine” a tired voice called from behind the vision that would turn any man to sobriety.

“Thank you very muh, nursey.” the inebriated man replied. He received a small goblet of brown powder, poured a generous amount of alcohol in from a hip flask, raising a finger to his lips as if I was his accomplice, and downed the mixture in one fierce slug. He shook his face and looked up a changed man, “So, what brings a man of the Outrealm to the city of bells?”

“Actually, I was asked to work as security, and look pretty for everyone. Ah, almost forgot. My name’s Alaric. And you are?”

“Oh, how rude of me” the now languid man vigorously pumped my hand with speed only an addict could have, “Adam Jenall, alchemist and artist, brother to the Lady Ranier. That’s my sister getting married today!”

“Ah, congratulations! I remember when I got married. It was autumn, and the trees were blazing orange! It wasn’t quite as big though; neither of us have much family to speak of.” I replied.

“A wedding should always be cause for celebration, I’ll drink to that” Adam raised his flask to his lips before realising what he was doing, “On second thought, perhaps you should have the tipple instead”

With serious, fractured eyes, he continued “I insist”

“Thanks” I replied, smelling the pungently strong liquid inside.

After downing the burning liquid, Adam broke out into a crooked grin. “That’ll do. Enjoy yourself for now, you’ll be fine when everything cracks up. And remember not to breathe-”

“Adam!” a woman’s voice called out.

“Coming nurse! Alaric of Teegee, let’s both hope nothing spoils the day”

“Of course” I smiled. “Now”, I said to myself. “Met the bride’s family, may as well see the Jora’s as well.” I faced the bear bearing flags.

The entire brood seemed burly; the men were bulky; the women were statuesque; the elders looked mean. And apparently they weren’t even half of it. A few figures stood out, a man wrapped in animal pelts stood in the corner, and a rakish bearded man spoke to what looked like a bear. They seemed to emit an aura of ferocity, and promises of lots of pain to villains.
Any practice is good practice. You have to find out what you're good at first, right?

Besides, a little indulgence is fine.

I find many things appalling, like the existence of rap music, but I don't demand it all be banned from radio stations.
I wouldn't be a dick like that and take away the enjoyment of someone else, no matter how base I find it.
Tentatively, I advanced towards the man wearing pelts. He was scouting the room through a strange looking eyepiece, and perked up when he turned to me.

“Ah, the new addition to the guard” unfolding his arms, I could see an impressive array of tubes and vials criss-crossing his chest.

“Eh, only temporary.” I said with a smile. “But, my name is Alaric. And you are?” I introduced myself.

“Garth the Longarm, Magus to the Jora, and brother to Jean Jora the third” he cocked his head to the side, “The man talking to Tibbers. Do you wonder why you were called, once you saw all that was prepared”

“Something to do with foreign relations and looking pretty for the masses?” I asked.

“My reach is longer than most, so I will tell you plainly. This is not just a celebration, but a show of force in preparation. Should war arrive in all its horror, all its glory, the people need days like this to remember what it’s all for” he looked over to the man who was now wrestling with what looked like a bear, “My brother is a strong man, but he is foolish when it comes to the ways of the world. I fully expect him to be dead before his son becomes as great, and should that day come now” he said as the goblet collapsed in on itself, “I’d fight Death himself for another day”

“An inspiration, eh? If I may be so bold, anyone is loyal in times of celebration, but would they remain steadfast through Hell?”

“They’d fight Hell for Heaven” the metal cup slowly began to unfold itself once more, rich liquid flowing from the drinks table. “But all this talk of war is unbecoming of us, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we-”
>Any practice is good practice.
Masturbatory practices are NEVER conducive to creating quality work. And Harem Knights is probably the singularly most masturbatory thing /tg/ has ever produced. And I mean that in both sense of the word.
>like the existence of rap music
Uncultured swine, judging an entire genre based off of pop culture drivel that the radio spews.
>I don't demand it all be banned from radio stations
You would also be pissed if your Classic Rock station started blaring Lil Wayne. I only ask that you guys take this somewhere else.
>You lost the right to talk for liking rap so yeah just ignoring you.

I could see they had men in dress armor, plainer than mine but looking no less impressive, situated in about equal spaces around the perimeter of the cathedral. Their stances indicated they were waiting for any sign of attack, and I didn’t like the look of those swords they had. Oddly enough, no guns or bows.

“Men with good eyes and clean arms. Don’t see the ones anywhere else? Well, get to it!” he span me round and the bear nudged me to one of the outer doors, “What’s done cannot be undone, so make sure it won’t be done in the first instance”

*guttural groan*

“It worked didn’t it. He can expect what’s coming to him now”


“That, we can agree on”

I was pushed towards one of the doors and free pathways that led outside. The outside of the cathedral cultivated a small garden, with vibrant greenery in bloom from the spring season. There seemed to be a commotion out the front of the cathedral, and the crowds had been pushed back by a bit. I began noticing that the archers had spread closer to the cathedral, perhaps something was happening.

My trail of thought was interrupted by a shower of breadcrumbs from above. On the rooftop was a man dressed in black and red, with loops of wire by his belt.

“Excuse me, you’re that priest from earlier, yeah? I was told I should talk to you about angelic assistance” I greeted him.

“Shh, you’ll disturb the bait!” he gestured to the breadcrumbs scattered about, “I’ve only got one chance at this, or I’ll miss the window until the next spring!”
“Right.” I replied. “...What exactly do we have one chance at?”

He looked at me as if I asked if his pants were holy, “Didn’t I mention the choir was one short?”

“Yeah, but what do breadcrumbs have to do with that?” I looked around.

“To attract birdsong, of course! Everyone knows musicians can’t help but to challenge nature itself! In a pinch, a cageful of birds will do”

“Mind if I help? All I got is this sword and a bullwhip, though.” I said.

He tossed a thin loop of wire down, it dangled gently like spiderwebs and gold thread, “Throw and pull back when you hear tweeting. I’ll make my way down to arrange things”

“Alright” I replied, tossing a loop. “This should be easy.”

The loop landed into some bushes and slithered out with a mind of its own. Some birds flew down to the crumbs and pecked half heartedly. They looked at me expectantly, and chirped out a cadence or two. The wire tugged a bit, before almost yanking me down to the ground.

After a struggle, I braced myself on a stone corner and began pulling back with all my strength. A few more tugs and a figure absolutely erupted out of the brush, loop around their arm and neck, before they landed on all limbs on the stony ground. I was surprised to find out it was a pale young girl, with rusty gold hair and looking like the runaway from choir.

I heard a strangled gasp behind me, and the red and black dressed man had appeared from behind a pillar. It was an odd sight, a leaf covered priest, a dress uniformed man and a slight girl with rusty hair dressed for choir practice.

“What are you doing here? You should be inside already!”

The girl looked at the man with an expression that spoke volumes.
Genie/Djinn actually.

“Bah, humbug! Alaric, take this ‘girl’ with you inside. I’m running late enough with the amount of weddings going on at the moment” he began crabwalking backwards, “As for your angelic assistance, here’s how. Bells ring in peace for joy, weddings for blessings, funerals for solemnity. Why do they ring in war? Hit the ones in the middle to find out”

That left me alone with a little girl looking not even ten. She looked at me and then at the loop about her neck. She picked at the wire, and birds flew down to her shoulders.

“They sure have a weird way of finding people around here, eh kid?” I said, removing the wire from her neck. I stored the loop by my side, don’t know when these things will come in handy. She put her hand in mine, and we made our way back into the cathedral. Apparently I missed the bride and groom’s entrance, the bishop was already performing the ceremony.

The late arrivals couldn’t get any good seats, somewhere near the back. The Jora and Jenall clans sat as a sea of near identical heads on their respective sides. The bear was nowhere to be seen, apparently pews didn’t accommodate the needs of the overly large. The pelted man was also absent. Flower girls with floral wreaths left their trail of devastation before, now standing in the front by the couple, and the girl had slipped away to join the choir behind the bishop.

Bishop Carter calmed the crowd of near uniform faces.

“Dearly beloved, we were gathered here today to celebrate the joining of two lines of noble blood. Sadly, we live in times where life is short, often loved ones ripped into the light of the lord by unseemly circumstance. Life should be celebrated and cherished all the more for it-”
Meanwhile outside the carriage was still stationary, a new team of horses and a smith had been sent for. They had tried moving it but found it was ridiculously heavy.

“It ain’t my cotton picken fault, your death happy archers killed the one team in the dangblasted city that could move this hunk o’ junk. His lordship gets some fuck mothering wizard to enchant it so it can move on its own, but no, we got to turn the magic off in the whole fucking city.”

“What in the blue blazes is this made of? Its heavier than any fully laden wagon to be stuck in traffic, and no two horses could pull something like this!” one of the guards said, kicking one of the wheels of the carriage.

“Kind of a snug fit inside, sir” one of the younger guards bounced inside the carriage, “These nobles don’t go half short on luxury”

“And you say that these horses simply snapped off the arms of the carriage and bolted?”

“You can ask the guards standing right over there. Never seen anything like it. Just boom, there one sec gone the next.”

“Hmm, quite odd, given the exceptional workmanship on the rest of the carriage, why skimp on the arms... find anything out of the ordinary yet?”

“Nothing here either, or under the carriage, or the horses. ‘Part from the weight of the thing, and the height. Walls’re solid, and the ceiling, so no hollow pockets”

“Were you going to pilot the vehicle once the locomotion spell was active?”

“I can, figured you fellows don’t want this monstrosity ruining the view.”

“And what route would you be taking, there are few roads that would allow a carriage of this height. Perhaps you could explain-”

“What route do you want me to move this thing to? I’ll back it up the way we came if need be.”

“In good time” the chief guard turned to the smith inspecting the carriage, “Smith, do you think it can be dismantled in time or is it worth the trouble of extra horses”
It began as a world-building/wat do fantasy thread, which does belong on /tg/. While I will admit that it's not quite the same anymore, it still falls within /tg/'s boundaries, as it's still fantasy, and the world is still expanding. Technically. Sort of. Kind of.

I myself never intended to write anything sexual. Romantic, yes. Adventurous, oh so yes. But sexual? No. I would like to think others might think the same way, but as it is, it would appear not.

And while I AM generalizing, the amount of rap I can safely say I like or amuses me is so small, it might as well not exist.

I'm not so much classic rock as alternative or something much heavier. Or what I really want isn't on the radio at all.
>POTF have no US record deal. I live in hell.

Asking us to take it somewhere else I could accept, especially if it was done politely.
“Dismantle? Fuck no, the Archduke will have my head, and anyone elses.” The driver said.

“I couldn't dismantle this in a day.” The smith replied to the guard.

“Troubling. The archmagus tells me that the field cannot be lifted, unfortunately for you, so I advise you to take the extra horses and one of the more deserted routes. Wouldn’t want you to be waylaid. Exactly, what is the rush? Most nobles will be here until the end of the week discussing specifics”

“No rush, but first this guy comes up and tells me to move this or he will have my head, then this guy tells me we can’t move it. Then that guy tells me we have to take it apart and move it. For all I care it can sit here until it rots. I mean until the Archduke is ready to leave of course.”

The chief guard smiled blandly, then turned and whispered to another that ran off.


“Are there any who would object to the union of these two, speak now or forever-”

At that very second, a loud explosion rocked the earth. In a nearby alley the horses were being prepared for butchering and in doing so someone had tripped the trap on the yokes. Outside, the guardsmen whirled in reaction while the chief whipped out his sword to the driver’s neck.

“Speak or die”

“I am but simple merchant of venice.” Jake, the driver said, putting his hands up. A snub nose revolver appearing in each hand. He fired once, putting a round in the chiefs face as the sword drew blood, hopping back into the carriage. Arrows started to rain down upon the carriage. The arrows, flaming and not bouncing off harmlessly. The decorative top of the carriage (A bubble like thing, shaped like a crown, a common design that was going out of style.) A barrel could just be seen behind it. It opened fire upon the wooden doors of the chapel, the Bira gun turning all before it into dust. Whistles began piping up around the destruction.
Inside the church, I (Piko) pressed the button on the short wave radio I had that was hidden as the Archdukes medicine box thingy. (The presents had been moved to a side room though.) The explosion sent building shrapnel flying and people screaming. Between the continuous fire of the gun pouring lead into the building and the smoke from the explosions it was pure chaos in the room. I stayed low as to minimise the chance of getting hit. The number of bodies on the floor was rather high, the first few seconds had everyone shellshocked and standing around like fools. Now people were starting to duck and cover, and also fire back. But with the smoke so thick they were proving more of a danger to each other than to the gnome gunner. The Archduke was dead as well, turns out the stress was too much on him, with the poisons we had been slipping him.

Hidden behind a pew, I reached under my skirt and took out a string of grenades. I chucked them strategically as best I could at where I thought the Jora’s and the Jenall’s were. It was like shooting fish in a barrel there were so many of them about

On the other side of the room, where the alcohol was Robert and George, who had played as the guards of the Archduke, were making molotovs and throwing them about willy nilly. Those two crazy pyros were having a good time. Robert had a few bodies laying around already, either groaning or no longer moving, and was wearing the biggest grin on his face. He had taken off his coat and had set it on fire, it was made mostly out of Shrooms, there was a combat high to say the least. Everyone around them was tripping, them to, but to a lesser extent due to have building up some tolerance to the stuff over the years.

My darling Jake made a mad low dash from the Carriage wielding two assault rifles and wearing a belt of grenades. He made it up to the door and Marshall stopped firing just long enough for him to duck inside. Unfortunately this gave them just a enough time to get off a shot
He ducked and dodge like the hero he was to me, nothing could touch him, arrows stuck out of the ground in his trail and bullets riddle the ground around him, but for those seconds he was untouchable. He slid in next to me, smile on his face as bold as brass.

“Promised you we would go out together.” He said. He handed me one of the rifles and I took the grenades I said, “Never doubted Love,” and then I kissed him for the last time. It was a wild blaze of gunfire and explosions, all I could see was him and the red.

And then we woke up in fire and ash.

Was this heaven?

“Welcome to Ar’mouri, the fields beyond death” a six armed figure said to me, “You must be new. Usually we only get Orcs in Ter’s warrior’s rest”
Get educated before you fucking speak you pretentious little bitch. Writing off an entire genre of music because you judged it based on its absolute worst is like writing off /tg/ entire simply because faggotry like Harem Knights infects it.

But no, you are a man of cultured tastes, you only listen to Led Zeppelin and Korn and maybe Daft Punk and whatever other artists you can namedrop to feel superior about your tastes and LIKE THIS IF U R 12 AND LISTENING TO THIS INSTEAD OF JUSTINE BIEBER LOL.

Faggots like you make me sick.
Masturbatory doesn't necessarily mean sexual, you know. HFY stories are highly masturbatory, but rarely do they entail sex. Writing a story about how a bunch of out of shape shutins that are self-inserts of the author form a successful empire, conquer an entire world, enslave ALL the bitches to their cock but its okay because they're better off this way, and then singlehandedly throw the world into an industrial revolution all because monstergirls are their fetish is fucking masturbatory as hell.

Not to mention the poor quality of the writing and over reliance on memes and references.
>I hate everyone you just said, I do like Madworld, the music not so much. If it ain't Cash or Classical I'm not interested.

Shall I get on with it? Yes, the doors were shredded like paper, and the carriage outside was some form of mounted projectile launcher. By the time I had simply reached into the metal structure and slit through the short occupant’s whole neck like a clean steak, the fights were winding down.

Where did the carriage go? Oh, you know, it was removed eventually. By itself. Rather quickly. That archer had the weirdest look on his face when the mass of metal exploded. Oh, he lived, the guards stayed a good bit away from the device, but I didn’t have any restrictions. That’s taught me not to try moving strange objects with my magic, and least, not for a good time. I still hear of them picking bits of it out of the gutters from time to time. But I’ve said my piece. We’ve got a real wedding to attend now.

Alaric here, and boy, what a day that was. The choir box gave a near perfect view for everything that happened. A boom, followed by the doors smashing open in a hail of lead, and another explosion where I was but minutes ago. I only moved to see what the strange girl was up to, then everything went loud.

Bishop Carter moved as soon as he heard the first boom, throwing the bride and groom behind him. Were all noblemen’s weddings interrupted so? Note to self, decline invitations politely in future. With all the smoke and confusion about, people in the middle being scythed down at chest level, I took cover and prepared myself for a flanking maneuver.

A belt of grenades soared through the air, landing somewhat closer to the Jenalls who were running and gunning about. As soon as it landed, Adam roared out “Little Men, Attend!” and an entire wing of nurses leapt onto the explosives. It went off as they closed in and spread a fine white mush around the walls. Still shocked from the explosion so close to them, most of the Jenalls were flung back in various states of hurt. I heard a ringing in my ears and a hand placed onto my arm.

“On my sister’s wedding day!” Adam looked livid, “Scratch the poisons idea, this calls for face melting. Pick your targets, I’ll see to the door” He passed me a clear fluid filled orb the size of a golf ball, and ran low along the wall.
“Got it.” I drew my sword and dashed to the side, moving towards the entrance. They had automatic weapons. I had a sword. Fortunately, the use of a rifle made them easy to distinguish; it was easy to know I needed to drop kick the squirrel girl off the bat. With such a bushy tail poking out of her skirt, it was obvious what she was. But why here? That would have to be answered later when I wasn’t dodging bullets.

“You got a lot of nerve crashing a wedding like this!” I said, picking myself up.

And then the gunman turned to shoot me in the balls, he was just about to pull the trigger when my left hand instinctively reached back and grabbed the whip. It shot forward with a thunderous crack, wrapping around the rifle’s barrel. A second tug brought it out of his hands to the side and away. Then something stabbed me in the leg. I took a stumbled step back. The blade of the dagger went in only a shallow distance. I removed it, revealing a trickle of blood, but I could walk.

The squirrel girl looked up with an insane look on her face, eyes leaking red and her teeth biting into her lip hard enough to draw more blood. She still had one grenade and juggled it listlessly, “The leaves, they all fall down.”

“Yeah, nah.” the whip dashed across her hand, and she dropped the bombs as her knuckles bled. “You’re a cunt.”
Then I felt the cold press of metal on the back of my neck. “It’s been real kid.”

All I could hear was my heartbeat as I turned on a dime. My hands held nothing; the blade and whip fell to the ground. My left hand swept out, knocking the gun’s barrel to the side. The right raised and formed with a fist, and the gauntlet on that hand began burning red.

“Three times in less than a year, that’s surely enemy action by now”, Jean Jora III said. He was hefting a large and heavily modified rifle; I could see that this was for hunting big game.

“Brother, come down where I can see you!”

A light step was heard behind me, and I saw the pelt wearing man from earlier cutting himself free of a rope that led all the way to the ceiling. “They seem determined to rouse our anger, Jean. Are we sure that was all of them?”

“Ahem... HAVOC!”

The sound of an entire gun store’s worth of guns reloading is a chilling sound. One I hope not to hear again.

“Any of you still standing and right of mind, declare your allegiances now in sight of God or be put down like the men you are!” roared a man framed by the light of the flaming carriage and holding a big gun, and an entire upper ring of snipers wrapped in indoor camouflage, this had the intended effect of the nearly the entire room of survivors kneeling in shock.

“That’ll do”, he slumped to the floor on a knee.

“Jean?” Garth moved to his brother’s side.

“Tis but a scratch, I’ll outlast the day” he waved away his brother’s aid.
>Johnny Cash and classical
So yes, you are one of those pretentious hacks who uses music to feel superior to others instead of just enjoying it.

Get over yourself.
I refuse to sit idly by and tolerate ignorance.
His jacket covered a large amount of blood, and I could see that his boot steps trailed red. Apparently he was more hurt than he let on.

“I’ll take that back, thank you very much” Adam slid a hand into my pocket and took out the clear orb that I forgot about entirely. He looked at me and gave an odd look when he saw the burning bodies, “Why’d you go and do that for? We won’t get the smell out in days. Besides, did you find out who they were”

“No distinguishing marks, and I didn’t recognize either of them.” I lied. The squirrel features were suspicious and unmistakable. Few places outside Teegee harbored beast races.

“Hello, did I miss the party?”

A head poked itself into the cathedral, it was the man in red and black from before, what seemed like days ago. “I see you’re fine, Alaric. And you got to keep your hands, Adam. Garth, good thinking on the carriage. Jean, you actually managed to get one, salut”

The simply dressed man hopped over the burning rubble and dead bodies, seemingly unaware of just how much carnage had occurred. From behind me I heard a roar, and Bishop Carter strode out like the wrath of god from his bolthole. He pushed me aside and a derringer popped out of his sleeve, grabbing the other priest by the scruff and putting the barrel to his neck.
>No Im just fucking old and can't stand anything new. This is due to everything else sounding off to me.

“You could have stopped all of this! You foresaw everything!”

The other man never stopped grinning, “Not foresaw, guessed very well. Beware the Ides of the third. If it didn’t happen today, it would have happened some other time, perhaps when we were less prepared. I see you didn’t have to bloody your hands today, Carter”

The bishop changed tack, “I kept what I could safe. Why couldn’t we save more?”

“I even lent you an angel, where is the little scamp by the way”

I felt a tug on my leg. Looking down, I saw the little blonde girl from earlier.

“Hello there.” I placed myself between her and the sight of the bodies, kneeling down.

“She seems to have taken a liking to you” the old man remarked.

“Him? But he’s not-”

“Not what? Not a man of the cloth, not a man of good standing, not a man with a plan? He stands in defense of the weak, does not falter under fire, fought off these assassins, and that’s all we could ask for in a man”

“Grrk, this be on your head, old man” the good bishop limped away, the gun disappearing somewhere up his robes.

“Her true name is unpronounceable with anything less than a choir, but she’ll answer to what you call her” the mysterious old man said “This child is blessed, so keep her well and she’ll be just fine. No late nights, loud music or riffraff”

“It’s no responsibility I’m not already familiar with.” I responded.

“Want to see what she can do?”

“Do?” I asked.

A sound of bells came in from the outside, and the old man looked at the time, “Well, we’ve got a wedding to attend, a real one, not this mess. Clean up who you can and send the rest up while you can”

...how do I describe what happened next without sounding cheesy.

Well, she passed by the wounded nobleman, who declined whatever would happen next, saying “Others need it more than me”.

The glowing light from earlier, all her. That melody, I don’t think I could repeat it but I felt all the better for it. That cut in my leg? Gone. Most of the injured made it out that day, and the rest would have expired from their wounds, I really doubt the medicine in the city is enough for that kind of hurt. Did she have a halo, did she grow wings, did she float and walk on water? Yes, yes, and she turned blood into water, is that good enough. Well, a halo of shining iron and wings of silvery light, but no one would say a word otherwise. Doctors and guards flooded in afterwards to speed the process, as she turned back to look at me.

How am I going to explain this to Sera
>Led Zeppelin
Nah. Sorry, As good as they are, I've never been a fan.

As for writing off an entire music genre, did you not see
> the amount of rap I can safely say I like or amuses me is so small, it might as well not exist.

I do have an appreciation for some small amount, but you are apparently fixated on the least important aspect of my argument.

Not so! Chivalrous romance did not necessarily imply sex; rather, a deep respect and loyalty.

As for the masturbatory part, I will admit I did not think of that particular usage, and you have me there. That IS basically wank. Yeah. But let's face it: it happens with literally everything. There are hundreds of other threads that are similar. And I know you'll be contesting this, so I'll just say: Simmer down, man. Chill. Relax. Nobody is forcing you to read it. Seriously.

>Cash and classical
>Pretentious hacks
You know, it IS perfectly alright to listen to those without being pretentious. One of my good friends listens to nothing but classical and soundtrack music, because he has a deep appreciation for score. Nothing wrong with that.

You call us names for preferring one genre over another-entirely within our rights- and then when you hear about our preferences-again, they are ours by right, and do not need to be subject to ridicule-, you get even madder.

Seriously, dude. Chill out.
The Bride and Groom from the Cathedral turned out to be common folk dressed and trained to act and react as the real wedding couple, Lady Ranier Jenall and Jean Jora IV. They were pleased as punch to have a real “fancy toff wedding”, having fallen in love sometime before. It also was apparent that they were never in any real danger, the majority of gunfire from the assassins was directed at the Joras; Jean Jora III, the father of the groom to be exact. He had been targeted by assassins twice beforehand, and it seemed to tick them off something fierce how well he beat them.

The real wedding was a simple enough affair, most of the trouble seemed to have been over inheritance and what family would get what land. The Archduke was put under investigation by the Iron Inquisition, and they tell me that the assets and accounts were seized. Small comfort. The nobles have their own suspicions about a jealous young king over in the Free Kingdoms who appealed against the marriage, making the whole thing sound like something out of Shakespeare.

Jean Jora III passed away shortly after seeing his son for the last time, a smile on his face and sustaining wounds that would have killed a lesser man hours earlier; Tibbers was beside himself as was Garth. His death was not a wasted one, he had already endowed his loyal troops and servants with knowledge and instructions to ease the transition to his son. He was buried the same day, Navero bells rang out his passing, and the great bear stayed by his grave until Jean’s youngest daughter Joanna took him away.

Adam was fine, and burst into tears when he saw his sister get married. His medication had apparently worn off sometime in the ceremony, as he made increasingly unconnected comments and had to be taken away on a litter when the wedding was over. How does he get so many nurses?

The angel went home to live with me, seeing as she apparently took a liking to me for some unfathomable reason, and the church was dangerous as is, what with the assassination plots. Then again, I live with a vampire, so take that with a grain of salt.

The old man disappeared, and with him any chance of a clear explanation to the whole setup. Bishop Carter left to go hunt down evidence of the Archduke’s wrongdoing, cursing about “fortune-tellers” and “hermits” the whole while.

As for the bodies of the assassins, once they were pulled out of the wreckage only two bodies were fit for identification. I left them there, and the nobles got to display their heads on pikes, a grisly fate fit for their career. As for the squirrel girl, I sent a private message back to Castle Waifu; someone needs to investigate.

The newspapers had a field day with this, making me wonder when did press passes become a thing. They already gave the event a name, the Wedding of Lead, and street bards composed a quick ditty that went something like this:
The newspapers had a field day with this, making me wonder when did press passes become a thing. They already gave the event a name, the Wedding of Lead, and street bards composed a quick ditty that went something like this:

On the Ides of the third
In Navero splendid;
Two houses were join’d,
A young king offended.

His hitmen bore brass
And spat slug’d breath;
On that bell toll’d day
For the betrothals death.

The Foxes and Bears
Like butter and bread,
Did fall to the ground
On the Wedding of Lead.

A hero’s hand just
did cast righteous flame;
The lives of two blaggards
‘Twas over, their game.

I hear it’s becoming quite popular in the taverns. There seems to be a play in the works. I hope they cast someone tall for my part. Sir Alaric, the Brave Outrealm Knight. I’ve got a play with me in it, how many can say that?

The wedding of lead, when joy turned to dread, of bullets and bodies and hole riddled dead. In the Mirthan “City of Bells” Navero this morning, following the expectant Jora/Jenall wedding, assassins attacked the cathedral killing dozens. Among the departed was Sir Jean Jora III, beloved father of three and patriarch of the Jora family, succeeded by his newly wedded son Jean Jora IV.

Reports flood in that there were at least half a dozen killers, all human and associated with the Free Kingdoms. Also, all confirmed dead, with their weapons destroyed. Now vaunted Teegee Knight Harem Sir Alaric had this to say about his part: “...Killing is Bad, but do as I say, not as I do”, having been responsible for defending the wedding against two of the killers.

Strong claims tie that the hitmen were hired by the monarch King Caleb Nought the Second, or Caleb the Nothing. Onlookers claimed that the killers had access to a primitive armoured carriage, with a rapid repeating firearm. More on page two.
I like how you addressed all the things I directed towards the other guy and completely ignored what I wrote for you.
>You know, it IS perfectly alright to listen to those without being pretentious.
There is also a difference between listening to Cash and Classical and listening to ONLY Cash and Classical and then looking down on someone for enjoying music you don't like and claiming that their tastes in music somehow invalidates their opinion on literature.

The difference is that the former is reasonable and the second is the hallmark of a pretentious cunt.
>when you hear about our preferences-again, they are ours by right, and do not need to be subject to ridicule
Oh the fucking irony. Just look at >>22927590 before you try to lecture me on tolerating differing tastes.

An Express Message to Teegee

Is this on? Don’t know how to say this, but one of the assassins was a squirrel girl. We’re gonna need to investigate this. Alaric.

I was more joking about it, as all you have been doing is going "I don't like the same things you like so this doesn't belong here." See IRONY. As for listing to music, I do listen to other stuff, but when I'm talking LIKE it basically limited to that. Some Black Keys, Dos Gringos, Devil Doll, and Protomen are also stuff I listen to but I wouldn't say I like them. They are enjoyable if not great. So STFU. Damn it now everyone is arguing with the troll.
I'm sorry about that. I find it rather difficult to differentiate between the two of you, and I did mistake some of those post numbers. My apologies. I goof'd.

And yes, that post directly contradicts my statement. Looks kind of stupid in hindsight. But I'll try to amend it and say that maybe he isn't the best example.

I, at least, am trying to reach out here, even if some others aren't. Can't blame me for trying, can you?
and once again, Boss's post proves me an idiot.

Perhaps I ought to just drop the argument.
Nothing ironic about pointing out legibly why I dislike this shit and why it doesn't belong here.
>But I'll try to amend it and say that maybe he isn't the best example.
He also seems to be the exemplar of the average Harem Knightfag.
I'm a raccist, gun loving, third world hating, asshat, who is whiter than white bread and thinks war is great for bussiness. I am also not real, so there is that.
>listens to Black Keys and Protomen
>Makes fun of some guy for liking rap.
I need a fucking sidesmith, because you just broke my last set.
Apparently the meaning of rap has changed since the 90s but ok cool beans bro.

Don't mind me, I'm constructed personality designed to stir as much shit up for fun. The real me is no where near as insensitive racist or and asshole as the persona I've created for telling the story of Frank Gun aka the Boss.
Yes, but your point has been recieved. Repeating as such does the same amount of difference as pushing the button twenty times at a crosswalk.

Can we just agree the music debate is fucking stupid, please?

If you were to just leave it alone, then you wouldn't be here, and be spending your time on something more productive, wouldn't you?
Wyona walked into the living room, her husband and son were playing with toy soldiers on the floor. She stopped and smiled for a second, he look so much more relaxed and healthier than he used to. “Dear, some postcards came for you.”

Rectangular pieces of card, a picture on one side and a message on the other, stamps affixed to allow postage. A coastal forest village with a bat on twin moons stamp, the jungles of the cat people with a star crossed heart stamp, a dusty desert with a bear mounted rider and a pirate ship stamp, a stately manor with an army helmet stamp, paint spattered bells with a bonfire stamp, and Teegee itself with an Outrealm star and stripes flag stamp. Six in total.

“Who they from?”

“Doesn’t say, but this one says; ‘Manwell, This bat comes with free belfry. Fisher Springs! Ring any bells?’ I don’t get it. And this one has Abe and Jez’s names on it. Says, ‘They’ll have a Hell of a time. Run back any day, Felim Jungles.’”

With each card read Frank could feel his heart starting to seize up.

“Captain Jacko Shag, Ended as he began, short, anticlimactic and with others to finish. Come have a Blast with us at Dagger Rock Hill”

“Buck Morris, you shelled out too much. Wickham Manor, our seats are always empty”

“Piko, Jake, Marshall, Robert, George. Twice as bright, gone in a blaze. ‘Leading you to spring in Navero’, wasn’t that where the Wedding happened?”

Wyona got to the last card. “This one is addressed to The Boss, isn’t that what they call you? It says, ‘Tick tick, tick tick. Teegee, where Home and Heart reside.’” She stopped reading at that and froze for a thought. Words clicked in place, but by then Frank was already on the move.
“Wyn, take Tommy and Flower and run. Don’t stop until you get to the High Orc Mountains. I need to tend to a few things first, then I’ll be right behind you.”

Wyona slapped him hard in the face then pulled him in close for a kiss. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I may not, but I plan on it.” Frank held his wife’s hands in his own, “Truth is though, my plans have been biting the big one of late.”

“I could stay, we could fight it. We can beat this, in the good times and the bad.”

“We could, but someone needs to take care of the kids.”

“As usual the hard work falls to the woman in the relationship.”

“That it does.”

Wyona packed quickly and left for her family in the High Orc Mountains. Frank said his goodbyes then prepared and then waited. Dark came all too quickly. He could run, he could go and catch up with his family. But no, if he did that it would put them at risk. They know who he is, they know where he is. All things needs is one little pull of a trigger and then things just might work out. Frank sat there and waited.

Getting in wasn’t a problem. The latch to the front door was unlocked quickly and quietly and before the next neighborhood patrol came by. It was a dark house, eerily quiet, but as he walked down the main hall, Yankee spotted the light coming under the door of the study. Slowly carefully, Yankee followed the barrel of the gun into the room.
Frank sat at his desk in a fancy chair, he slowly swiveled to face the intruder. Papers burned in the fireplace, bits of paper littered the floor as if they had been thrown over a shoulder and missed the fire place. The smell of alcohol was strong in the air. “Well you weren’t who I was expecting. What are you doing in my house. Did Sam send you to take his spot in our chess game?”

“Don’t remember me? I’d expect as much. Boss.” The Blade practically spat the last word.

“Can’t say I do, though it might be due to that monster of a piece you got locked on me. Don’t you know its rude to point guns at people? Then again it’s also rude to break into peoples houses.” Frank clasped his hands, “So what do you want, money, jewels, I don’t have much. Take it and go. I don’t intend to die over a few things, not to the hands of some robber.”

“I want you. You know, you’ve been making my life a hell of alot harder these last couple of years. Slippery little fucker, hiding behind your cronies, some of them my friends... and you think I’m here for SOME FUCKING GOLD?” Yankee stepped forward a bit into the light, gun still trained on the Boss, lighting the sigil of the Blades on his shoulder.

“Great some madman I get, look sir, I have no idea what you are on about.” Frank said hesitantly, trying not to set off the gun toting knight, “I have never seen or heard of you in my life. I have no clue what I did to wrong you but I will do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

“Well how about a little reminder you slimy fuck? Five years ago you started a charcoal company. With the proceeds you began the manufacture of blackpowder firearms using willow coal and recruiting freed slaves and the homeless to tool the parts” Yankee stepped forwards with each phrase, spitting the words out,
You then began using a network of unassociated merchants to sell your wares in small batches to nobles and pirates, using an assassination ring to drive fear and thus demand for your product. Eventually, we caught on. Eventually, I figured it out, but you sold the coal company to Abe, as a patsy, you cowardly sonuvabitch.You sold ALL my fucking friends down the river. You sent them ALL to their death as your fucking hitmen. Now tell me, fucking TELL ME, you didn’t think you could get away with it!”

“Abe, Abe my gaming buddy, why would I do a thing like that? All your saying makes me out like some kind of criminal mastermind. Now I aint the brightest of lamps, but wouldn’t framing my best friend be a really stuipd move and for that matter would I still be here, or you alive if I was this evil bastard you said I was. Now son, what makes you think I am. I mean I’m just a tired old man working to take care of his family.”

“I’ll tell you why. Because you know that there’s almost nothing hard on you. No paper trail except the bill of sale from five years ago. But Ive known Abe longer than you. I’ve known Jake and Rob just as long. I know them better, and I sure as hell know they wouldn’t do something like this alone.You’re the kingpin behind this. Don’t try to fucking tell me otherwise.”

“You lost me, you’re saying the reason I did it is that there is no proof I did it and also you know my friends better than I do” Frank tapped a finger against his chin, “Wait, you’re that Yankee guy, the one they mentioned that one time. The one who they were mad at for throwing them aside after joining up with the Blades. Just the other day Rob was bitc-”

“Rob’s been missing for a week, and Jake’s too. Scratch that, Jake’s dead. He’s a pile of ashes in Navero.” Without taking his eye off of Frank and his finger off of the trigger, Yankee pulled Jake’s knife out of his pocket, unsheathed it, and threw it to the floor
“...about how you never hang out with them any more. It’s rude to interrupt you know, did... did you say Jakes dead, what happened, is Piko all right? No of course not, what am I saying, she must be heartbroken. Isn’t that Jake’s knife, why would you have it... unless.”

“Yeah. I would know, I gave it to him. Like I said, he’s a pile of ash. The both of them. They were killed in an assassination mission that you orchestrated. But I doubt that you care. I doubt that you saw them as anything but pawns in your scheme. All you care about is yourself. And you almost fucking got away with it too.”

Frank stood from his chair in a jolt, the barrel of Yankee’s gun pressed to the old man’s chest. “You fucken bastard, Jake was like a son to me. And for your information, if I had schemes they would have made sure an monstrous asshole such as yourself were dead long long ago. Just for the sheer fact how little you care for the ones you called friend mere seconds ago. If I hadn’t taken a vow of peace I would take that gun of yours and shove it so far down your throat!” Frank was starting to turn red in the face, and his words were surrounded by gasping for air.

“Man, you sure can bullshit.” Yankee pushed Frank off his feet using the length of the gun. “You’re not even worth the gunpowder in this round, but unless you admit to the shit you’ve done, I’ve got nuth’n but Abe’s word.”

“If you kill me you’ll just be a monster that killed an innocent man. If you want, take me to court, let the law handle this. I have nothing to hide. One shouldn’t try to take justice into his own hands. You’ll end up staining it.”
“I’m sure Abe’ll rat you out, he’s still got a decent person left in ‘im, but that won’t be enough. Yeah, you won’t see a single shitstained day in the TeeGee dungeons and you already know it. But for them, for Abe and Robby and Jake, I’m gonna make sure you don’t see another shitstained day at all.” Yankee leveled his gun on the wheezing man’s head. “Any last words motherfucker?”

Frank took some deep, calming breaths before looking the Knight clear in the eye and saying what he believed to be his last words “You don’t want to do this son, it’s a dark road, once you go down it, there’s no going back. But regardless of what you do, I forgive you, and hope you live a better life. I’ve lived a long one, seen many things. Tell my wife I’m sorry I won’t be there to help her to raise our kids. Rosebud.”

The hammer fell, striking the primitive primer, triple odd buck flew from the barrel and struck the man formerly known as Frank across the face, tearing off his jaw and caving in his skull. For a couple of seconds a gurgling sound escaped his dying lungs. The Boss was no more. Slowly, Yankee lowered his gun, turned around, and walked home to prepare his report. He’ll give it in the morning.

Dogs barked in the night, and lights lit up the street in response to the gunshot.

Throughout the land explosion after explosion rocked the earth as the last fail safe of the Boss’s went off. His heart was tied to a vast and complicated system of runes that was designed to turn every gun he had made into a bomb. However, Frank died earlier than he had expected so the triggering mechanism of this rune network was not fully charged, leaving pockets of places where the guns were unaffected. Warehouses where gun manufacturing and storage was still taking place went also, in jets of flame destroying the contents and spreading napalm everywhere, and burning up large supplies of powerful drugs, polluting the air with them.
Back in Teegee, a beggar watched until Yankee was out of sight. They crept into the silent house on silent feet, it’s wards now broken, it’s doors now open. The room that contained the old man’s corpse was in disarray, fire cooling and body steaming. The beggar poked the body once with their walking stick, then left, disappointed. B slipped into the night, changing their disguise and working out the kinks in their legs as they folded the collapsible air pipe. Juggling the cardiotoxin darts in their hands, they mused how the Boss died in violence after all, but they had places to go.

The Boss was dead. Long live the Boss.
The psychopath know as the boss was dead, he would haunt the land no more, but his legacy would live on. Fear his strongest one would lead to a war like that which had never been seen before in the land of Europia.


Recently Sir Yankee, Knight of the Order of the Blades, was implicated in accusations of unjust murder, following the death of Frank Gunning, beloved husband and father of two, including his oldest Thomas, child of the Old World, and leaving his expectant Orcish wife Wyona Punchfirst widowed. Following the incident yesterday night, official word from a Blades correspondent arrived, quoting that ‘Sir Yankee was acting in self defense ... his actions are based on information regarding the long running investigation into the illegal [firearms] trade and [firearm] based assassinations’. Read more on page two.


Yes, yes it is. Through rain or shine or hail of arrows, the employees of the Flight Postal Service, or FPS, deliver. Barring the suspected mail bomb scare a few months ago, which was thankfully a mere parcel of foul smelling dwarf cheese. Read more on page seven.


After the coordinated attacks on Mirthterran nobility over the past years, with suspicious and strong ties to the Free Kingdom states, war appears to be on the brink of bursting forth. However, further the recents explosives and hallucinogenics release, not to mention the Wedding of Lead on the 14th, that notion may begin to pick up speed. For more on the situation, read on to page four.
>You know when you but it that way, it sounds like it would fit on /tg/ perfectly.

Blew their hands clean off!

Reports are flooding in nationwide that warehouses, storerooms, alleyways, boltholes, armories and forts all suffered a coordinated detonation of explosives! Initial counts put the dead at the thousands, with everything from soldiers to servants being killed in the blasts. Obviously such a synchronized assault can only be the work of higher powers! Terrorists are among us, and Teegee is the fount from which this evil springs! Not content with the anarchy of the world left behind, they spread their fearmongering to the untouched lands! Brother will turn against brother...

Cloud of gas greatly exaggerated!

Clouds of hallucinogenic gases sweeping Free Kingdoms NOT, repeat, NOT emanations from Miasma, AKA Hell. This is no excuse to call for an early holiday, the food is terrible and the people have little to lose. Mirthterran officials were startled by allegations that they sent the legions of hell against the upstart coalition, claiming that their own nation suffered enough at the Demon Lord...

A City in the sky?!

Recent archeological digs have unearthed evidence that flight capable cities may exist not only in the realm of fantasy and dreams. Official report from On Beyond museum’s assistant director is that we should stop bothering them, but the Truth will come Out! Of course, such a spectacle could only be the work of, get ready for it, ALIENS! The sheer magnitude of scientific or magical energy required to elevate a city above sea level deems that...
I heard faint footsteps, they kept drawing closer...

It was at that time I awoke, I was still sitting where I was at, Aisha leaning against the wall next to me asleep, a fire was right in front of where I woke up. From the luminescence of the flames I saw a figure. He was around my height, and looked somewhat older.

"Well it's about time you woke up Augir. I was a bit surprised at what you pulled back there in the infirmary."

Still dazed I tried to get up, he then spoke to me again "Hold on there, you shouldn't move so much, you burned yourself out earlier."

"Before you ask, If you must know, the reason I know your name is because-" he then motioned a hand towards Aisha "She told me about you."

He started to speak sarcastically: "Gave up your own wishes because of a principle you had? Real smooth there."

I remained silent

"Oh, did I strike a nerve there, sorry about that. You really were being serious though?"

I nodded and then looked towards her. "Can you even fathom what she had to go through in her existence; to be continuously bound, serving whoever wills the vessel she was stored in?" I then shook my head "For all we know, she could have been at one time an instrument for assassinations or fraud."

I got up. "This isn't some damned lore or myth we learned back in our world for crying out loud! You ever think she wanted all of this?!" I then stumbled back slightly from that last retort. "Who would ever enjoy being a servant to others? Ask yourself that question."
Meanwhile, somewhere beyond time and reason...

Two figures sat at an unusual playing board. One a figure of shadow and fire, seated on a throne of flesh, writhing in agony and ecstasy, a cane in one hand and a loop of cord in the other, grinning at his opponent while wet, lapping sounds came up from his lower body. The other was clad in plain metal, and seated on a simple frame of bent iron.

They sat with a circle between them, and above it, the world and all the planes and spheres around it. Tiny abstract carvings slid and moved about abstract borders, fighting abstract battles, before a great pop flung a majority about.

“Mmm, that’s my win once more” the flame crested figure said, a smooth and creeping voice from a figure that would be the stuff of devilry.

“It’s not over yet” the other figure said in human tones, calm and measured.

“After all this, you think you can still win? Bah, you’re outmaneuvered, outdated and, urggh, outgunned” a dark hand reached out and tapped some figures to its side of the field, resembling humanoids with guns “They saw to it you wouldn’t see a sunny day the first time they pulled a trigger, oh yeah keep doing that”

Unfazed by the display before it, two points of light blinked somewhere in that helm “There are still more who would wish well than ill, and you are not the most generous of patrons”
“Who will come to your aid, the others?” the grey pieces lit up, savage and warlike, “The maimed one’s as good as mine, his bitch whore of a partner no help to you” the world under the world, “The ‘queen’ of the bugs is mine as much she tries to fight it and the Immigrants are wrapped in self-delusion” the jungle and beast isles, “Dead for the help it does them and those fleabags are as good as dead”

He groaned and clutched at the figure at his groin, “Hrnngh! You should just tell your people to lay down and take what’s coming for them, just like she learnt” a yank on the cord and the sounds stopped, “I’ve wasted enough time on whelps, time to finish my business elsewhere”

When the fiery figure left with its plaything in a whisp of sulfur, the armoured one turned to inspect the map once more, as if in thought. Carved figures slid and blinked in and out of existence while it observed.

“He always did see people as nothing but pawns in a game. That will never change, no matter how many times the unexpected happens”

A steely gaze turned and looked at the township, a small thing bordering on the elven forests but growing strong, “So much potential for good, so much potential for not”

“Each step they take, towards the dark” A gauntlet reached out and patted a small iron ring on the town, surrounded by a sea of multicoloured and multiformed figures. “Let us make it a run up for better days”

“As for the rest...” gazed at a scattering of figures representing knights, “...like I said, it’s not over yet”
Meanwhile, somewhere behind white walls and iron curtains...


One fine morning, some men were sitting outside in the sun, a plaid tablecloth covered table between the three of them and a parasol keeping one in the shade. One was swearing quite loudly at the newspaper laid on the table, another was eating breakfast with considerable effort and the last was intent on reading his own rather outlandish paper, holding it raised like a shield against the worst of the tirade.

“What is it now, Junior?” said an exasperated voice from behind the paper and print barrier.

The addressed, someone far past his prime but still solid enough not to be mistaken for any junior, stabbed an article with a toasting fork. “Tripefetters! Rotsacks! Listen to this nonsense, the Mirthan Press states that though the dozens dead at the infamous Wedding of Lead lay claims and concrete evidence to Free Kingdom involvement on the attacks of nobility, retaliatory strikes are uncertain following recent developments! We are expected to stay our hand while generals and rulers confer the possibility of military reformation!”

The gaunt looking man paused from tearing at a particularly tough plate of eggs and bacon, “Hmm, wasn’t your nephew one of the departed?”

“Feh, he died in his element and had his fill of unlikely mishaps, so I’ve no great grief. His stubbornness and pride would always be his undoing” the bulky man extracted the fork with a tug, “You don’t break a bear’s nose and come out with gleaming teeth”

“While you are the epitome of humble pie” a turn of the page, “Oh? The Spider Queen of the North demands equal rights for males, good for her”

The roarer threw the fork at the reader, who caught it in a free hand and placed it back on the table with nary a turn of the head. “You may want to take the death of thousands more seriously” the big man continued, “There’s a strong possibility that they’ll get away scot free, with us painted the aggressor nation once more!”

“And what did you expect to happen next?” a turn of the page, “With those firearms destroyed in their blasts, years and resources have gone down the drain with little to show for it but thousands of stunned soldiers trained in a weapon that no longer exists. All sides will need time to huddle and discuss what to do in the absence of guns”

“Well, that’s not all true” the eater spoke with a mouth full of eggs, “Mrf, we did manage to make those pocket pipers for our at risk colleagues, and several houses still have their own stockpiles. There could have been ten times as many dead if we didn’t tell everyone to keep the guns apart from the folk because of the Metal Eating Mark”

“Martin, it will take generations before we’ve got anything like the Out Realmers or the Gnomes. One shows the whole of Eurona their toys and cities before refusing any form of meaningful trade, while the other keep it from all but their blood-thirstiest Knights” ‘Junior’ began picking his toast apart, “Small wonder my clan found them working together on the weapons, they fit perfectly. Moot point now that the killers and their guns combusted themselves”

“I thought it odd for some weapons to destroy themselves in such a manner” a turn of the page, “The Mark of rust ensured that the metal would rot itself to pieces within a few years, nevermind how much more death would occur from a war fielding them. We’ll need to follow up-”

A commotion was building up on the other tables heading up to the trio, a priest dressed in red and black tore towards them. Nuns and acolytes scattered before the approach of the man, as concerned guards trailed him.

“But wait, there’s more” remarked the eater, Martin.

The reader turned a waiting palm towards the priest, who dropped off a crystal box bound in golden thread no larger than a mouse into it. “One Iron Angel’s Song of Healing, as requested”

“Thank you, Mad Monk” the reader replied, snapping shut his paper and examining the object from beneath the shade of the parasol, “Excellent work on minimizing the damage, the Godshroom tonic far augmented your sect’s normal powers of foresight. Leave now, but know we may require your services in due time”
The Mad Monk of Mith did a little curtsey, before pirouetting and taking off again, snagging a friar’s slice of cake while papal guards herded him to exits with a ring of halberds. The crowd of clergy murmured for a while at the appearance of the elusive hermit, before returning to their own conversations.

“Angel’s hair thread is such an amazing twine” Martin dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “Well, R, guess all’s well that end’s well”

“Far from it. While the unexpected boon of the drug trade meant we were prepared for the worst of things, we still have the problem of an up and coming war, fielding the remaining guns, no less” he tucked the transparent container into red robes, “On another note, Junior, how goes the monstrous front?”

The big man unfolded a map onto the table, the other two moving away plates and cups, “The strangest thing is that none of the usual appearances have been made. Shadow Stalkers, Dread Walkers, even the smallest Knob Nobber have begun moving, migrating South. Either the Northern Fae are making their move and driving them out, or we can expect an Abominable King in a few years time”

The Red Cardinal rubbed his temples at the news from the Bladed Cardinal Jean Jora Junior, turning to face the Grey Cardinal Martin Cuskelus, “Well, at least it’s something we can handle”

You seem to fail to realize that you are part of the show, the bread for the circus as it were. And you feed it, giving it strength. AND WE LOVE YOU FOR IT. Its a sign, with this as with quests thread trolls, you to will pass.
Thats all from me tonight, as things, and that I need for people to do things, Lem needs to write up the tales of Yankee.
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Wow, we actually made it to 2013.

Hmm, time to plot.

And by plot I mean write up plots, man have I been lazy/busy. Ghostwriting collabs, planning future collabs, editing collabs, padding collabs...

Hmm, I wonder what mushrooms taste like.
Let the fucking thread die, asshole.
Okay, writing up something about Gobbo Goblin caravans.

also didn't a whole buncha people get banned/have their posts deleted because they were tooting that particular horn?
I don't fucking know, but Id like to think Ive tolerated this for much longer than is reasonable.
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He rides a tall black stallion, across the evening sky.

He fears no mortal man, but the mods on high.

His guns thunder with the sound of salvation

He rides and rides, forever on, his lady ever further.

At his heels and back chase a great herd of demons of inky black.

He knows he can not falter, his quest still Undone, his quest sill undone. His lady still on farther.

He rides and rides, forev-------er ooonn.
I think its hilarious how this thread >>22928008 manages to be everything Harem Knights tries so desperately to be and fails utterly at being with only so much greentext. It even has better drawfaggotry.
Except you know the adventure and the happy feelings. And a tonnage of varied monsters, or a fluffed world.
>adventure and the happy feelings
One of these two threads have that, and it aint Harem Knights
>varied monsters
>fluffed world.
>bumping this thread
Urg, okay, not going to be done with my story till the morning. Will post it then
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>still bumping the thread
Looking forward to it! Maybe I should get back to writing Sir Andrew's adventures again. Last I remember, I was sending him into the wastes with plans to find out the origin of that desolate place. After that, I was planning to do the first contact with the Coininoch, but given I wasted so much time, someone else has probably already done that.
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>Harem Knights still exists
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This...this is still going? I thought you guys were on hiatus after December.
A voice then could be heard from behind the person I was talking to. "That's Enough!"

The man turned to see the origin of the voice and then began to stutter. "Sir I just-" The newcomer sighed. "Just go back to the tent and continue treating the injured, I will wrap things up here."

He then looked at me as soon as he sent other person back to the tent. "Sorry about that, he's kind of an ass at times. I asked him to go out and ask about you. However it seems that I wasted my time doing so given the way he acted."

"Still I am interested though as to how you pulled that little stunt back there. Though given that you nearly passed out, I can only guess it must have been your first time using magic."

I nodded weakly. "Strange, it felt as if it was second nature to me. I mean I was taught the basics from Aisha over here but I really don't understand it myself."

I then explained to him my past to give him an idea.

He then nodded. "I see, now it makes sense. Since you studied human physiology and at the cellular level too, now I get how you were able to pull it off. Stimulating the bodies natural functions to repair itself more effectively."

I shook my head "Well I'm no doctor though, I know jack squat about anything other than the cellular levels and base physiology..."

He then laughed before speaking again "Nonsense, it's better than having more dead weight lying around, whatever help you can provide is highly appreciated here."

"So how is he, the patient I mean?"

He then took out a chart on a makeshift clipboard and glanced over it "Well it appears some of his injuries have mostly healed up, the deeper ones still need time to heal though, however you did help stem the bleeding enough for him to pull through."

He looked back at me "It's hard to say how long it will be before he can move again though."
I'm gonna go ahead and post what I did in the last thread.
I awoke to the sound and smell of breakfast being cooked. I sniffed at the crisp morning air. Eggs. Most likely done just the way I liked them, over easy. Tip-toeing around the other occupants of the bed I stretched and shuffled around for some clothes. Shiroki was stretched out in a ridiculous position again, she always moved in her sleep. By comparison, Avanna looked as delicate and pure as a newborn. Pulling on a robe, I kneeled down at the foot of the bed and quietly murmured to myself the Prayer of Thanks. “I am thankful for my waifu; I am thankful for my laifu.” As I said the Prayer I would hold one of the beads of my rosary. When the Prayer was done, I would hold a new bead and recite the Prayer again.

Each bead had a different symbol carved into it, representing each of my waifus. I could recognize every bead by touch and when I closed my eyes and felt the beads, I could see the smiling face of the waifu it represented. This was my ritual and I would perform it every morning after I woke, to show the Great Mother how thankful I was for what and who I had in my life.
When I reached the last bead on the rosary, as if on cue, I heard a crash and a cry of frustration from the kitchen. I smiled to myself and finished the Prayer before heading off to see what had happened. It was my newest waifu, Orillia, the last bead on the rosary. Half-cooked eggs were all over the floor and she was trying to wipe it up with a rag.

The sight made me chuckle, “So what happened?”
Orillia looked up at me with a sad, pouty look on her face. “Some egg shells fell in and I heard that humans don’t eat the shells so I tried to fish them out and then...” She looked at the ground in despair.

“You know you didn’t have to do this for me. Especially not right after the honeymoon.”
Orillia puffed out her cheeks and looked up at me defiantly. “I wanted the first day of us living together to be perfect. Like a fairy-tale! How can I claim to be a good wife like the others if I can’t even help out the one I love?”

“My love, I married you because of who you are and because of the bond we share. Not because you know how to cook eggs. Don’t ever change who you are because that is the only Orillia I love. Besides, have you seen how much Shiroki lazes around? She hardly ever helps out.”
“I resent that comment.” Shiroki sleepily muttered as she walked into the kitchen. Her eyes were half-closed and when she sat down at the table she promptly fell asleep again.

“You see?” I remarked, gesturing to the passed out Felim. Orillia giggled and nodded, sliding up and embracing me tightly.

“Gah! Too tight!” I gasped. Blushing, Orillia unravelled her lower-half from around my body. “Sorry, I keep forgetting how delicate you are.”

“It’s not that I’m delicate it’s that you’re so strong. I’m not sure if human bones are meant to withstand a Lamia’s death embrace.”

Orillia smiled, “Oh hush. It was a love squeeze. What are we going to do about breakfast though? Don’t you have a morning service to get to?”

“I’ve cancelled the morning service for the next little while. There’s something I’ve been meaning to do that I plan on starting today.”

“What’s that?” Orillia asked, cocking her head to the side.

“A memoir.”
I was a 21 year old university student before coming to the New World. I didn’t have any significant skills and I hadn’t made any major accomplishments in my life. My degree was in English and History, nothing very practical. Nevertheless, I had nothing to complain about and I thought I was lucky to have a fairly decent life with little to no problems.

I’m still not sure how I was able to survive the Hard Days when so many others died but I will always be thankful that I did. I drilled with the others that hoped to learn to defend themselves in this place. I patrolled with spear and shield in hand. I assisted in hunting and gathering in any way I could. I didn’t excel at any specific task but I didn’t get in anyone's way either. Back then we didn’t have as defined roles as we do now, it was simply “help out with whatever needs to be done so we don’t all die”. They were called the Hard Days for a reason: constant attacks from the nearby Elves meant that patrols had to be extra cautious, low supplies meant rationing of everything, and the cold winter wind would twist through your clothes and chill you to the bone.
Still, we persevered through these hard times. When we gathered in the common halls and ate our rationed food together, we shared the deepest bonds of brotherhood. I saw this world as a chance to make my life more than it was before. A chance to do something worthwhile; to have a purpose.

When the Felim found us, it was a blessing for everyone in Teegee. I practically cried (and wasn’t the only one to) when the Felim decided to stay and help us out of these hard times. It wasn’t too long after that the newly formed Council of DMs wanted to discuss the Elven problem harassing our borders. Almost the entire castle turned out for the meeting and we talked at great length over what to do. Opinions flew back and forth but it wasn’t until Gavran stood and gave his famous words that any decision was made. Those words changed all of our lives that day. I then knew how I could change my life here to make it better than before. I could finally live out all those adventures I had loved. I had a brand new world to be more successful with women in. I could fight with my brothers of Teegee and defend our newfound home.
That night, the Harem Knights were formed and we prepared for war. I was eager to be part of something bigger and instantly volunteered to join. It was on one of these nights before the war, that after a hard days work, the Felim opened up one of the kegs they had brought with them. I was deep into my drink and several others around me were boisterously yelling about waifus and harems, elves and ear rubbing.

Not to be outdone, I staggered onto the bench, planted a foot squarely on the table and drunkenly declared: “Just you wait and see lads; I’m going to have the biggest harem this world has ever seen!” Of course, I then slipped off the bench and fell, knocking the back of my head on the stone floor and passing out.
When I finally came to the next morning (with a splitting headache I felt was not just from whacking it against the floor) it was to a new reputation. The others joked about how big my harem must be already after one night. I earned the title of “Sir Davin, the Ambitious” for my drunken blustering that night and it has followed me ever since, despite my best efforts. So I decided to embrace my new title and attempt to make my new goal a reality.

Easier said than done, however. I tried my hand at flirting with some of the Felim living with us but it never led to anything else and I found that I wasn’t as keen on it as I had thought. I never felt a connection with them and it seemed meaningless. And thus the day of our assault against the Elves dawned.
My first battle was not how I had anticipated it to be. Being in an actual war is obviously nothing like playing at it with dice, yet it still didn’t occur to me until my first kill. As my spear plunged through the gut of an Elven attacker, our eyes momentarily locked and I saw life leave him. Shocked, I let go of the spear and promptly threw-up my breakfast all over the dead elf. Knowing I had just desecrated his body after killing him didn’t help the awful feeling I now had, but seeing another soldier charging towards me did. I was able to block his first attack with my shield but with my spear embedded in the other Elf I was weaponless. Backing away, I defended his attacks as best I could. Out of the corner of my eye I could see one of my brothers rushing towards the Elf and I felt a wave of relief. I also momentarily relaxed my upheld shield arm as well apparently, because when the Elf slammed his sword down on the shield, it went right back into my face and knocked me out.

I was roused by the brother who had saved me. I thanked him and asked if there was a weapon around I could use because I had lost mine and still wanted to fight. He gave me an apologetic look and said that the battle was already won. Even now, our brothers were freeing the Elven women who had supposedly been oppressed by their male counterparts.
That night, as everyone else celebrated our victory over the tyrannical Elves and the addition of their women to our lands, I sat by myself, downing drink. Everyone else was laughing, shouting, celebrating. I couldn’t get over what a disaster the battle had been for me. Not only had I missed out on all the glory and action, it seems I wasn’t even cut out for it in the first place. How could I be a Harem Knight if I barfed after killing someone? How could I ever hope to have the biggest harem in the world like this? I could barely even talk to the girls that were here.

“You sure look lonely, why haven’t you joined in the celebrations?” A white-haired Felim was standing next to me, head cocked to the side with a questioning look on her face. I had never seen anyone so beautiful before in my life, everything about her was perfect in my eyes: the way her white hair had been cropped short and perfectly framed her face, the soft yellow of her feline eyes, the cute way her mouth twitched into a smile when I turned to look at her. I was blown away; utterly speechless.
“Ah, uhh....what?” Is all I could manage to get out. That made her giggle. It was one of the most amazing sounds I’d ever heard, a lilting tinkle that floated through the air. I could feel my face heating up.

“I saw you sitting all alone and asked some of the others about you. They say your name is Sir Ambitious?”

This brought me back to my senses. “Haha, no, I’m Davin, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Umm..?”

“Shiroki.” The Felim said, sitting down next to me. “So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

I explained what had happened to me during the battle and how I had missed most of it. “And now I feel like I have no purpose here. I thought I would be able to contribute in a big way and be more than what I was. Now I’m just a nobody.”
“Geez, well aren’t you a sob case. So what if you didn’t see the battle through to its end? You still contributed...in your own small way. This was your first time in a real fight, right? That just means you need to train more and be ready for your next fight.” She punched me in the shoulder. “So suck it up ‘Sir Ambitious’, or do you want people to start calling you ‘Sir Elf-Vomit’ instead?”
I could tell she was teasing me to try and cheer me up, “Thank you Shiroki. I guess I just got a bit depressed. You’re right, this doesn’t have to be the end. It’s more like, a beginning.”

And then we talked. The whole night. My nervousness and anxiety melted away with the ease with which we connected. When we parted ways at the end of the night, I knew that something amazing had happened. It was the first time I had had felt such a deep connection with someone else and it felt fantastic. I was so giddy I could barely sleep. Over and over I thought about our conversation and Shiroki. The way she had looked directly into my eyes when listening to me. The twinkle in her eyes, the way she laughed at the stupid jokes I made, everything about her had me entranced. I even considered the fact that she might have been a witch or something and I was under her spell. In the end, there was only one logical conclusion: I had found my waifu; I was in love.
The next day I’m embarrassed to say that I practically stalked Shiroki. I could tell that she must have some interest in me from the night before but I was still nervous about the new feelings inside me. So I followed her around almost the entire day, trying to act discreet and not seem like an obsessive stalker, trying to work up the nerve to say something. It wasn’t hard, as far as I could tell she spent most of her time napping. By the evening, I had finally gathered up the courage to approach her. I tried my best to make myself look presentable back in the barracks (bathing for the first time that week) but when I went back to where I’d last seen her napping, in her quarters, she was gone. (Quarters may be a bit much actually. It was really just a tent, a temporary setup until proper dwellings could be constructed.)

I had thought for sure that she’d still be asleep based on what I’d seen all day. "So are you going to tell me why you were following me around all day?" A voice from behind me said. Whirling around I found Shiroki grinning behind me.
Startled, all I could get out was, “Uhh, wha-ummmm”. My stammering seemed to make her smile even more. She took a step towards me, “I may nap a lot but I sleep pretty lightly. Not to mention that you’re not very stealthy.”
Feeling nervous, I took a step backwards. “R-really? I didn’t think I had been that noticeable.”
Shiroki took another step towards me, “Maybe you weren’t, but I could tell you were there. Just a...feeling I had.” She blushed a little after saying that.

“O-oh haha. What kind of feeling?” I said with a hopeful tone, laughing nervously.

“Probably the feeling that I’m being stalked by some creepy human.”

I took another step backwards and tripped over her bedroll onto the floor, knocking my head on the hard ground. Before I could even say “ouch”, Shiroki was above me, concern in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to tease you! Are you okay??”

Once again I was struck by the beauty of her face. I replied with the only thing in my head at the moment, “I love you.”

She looked really surprised and taken aback yet was blushing. “I-I-I’ve never had anyone say that to me before...and I’ve never had this feeling before. Ever since we talked last night it’s like my hearts been fluttering and I could barely sleep.”

“Ahaha, you call today barely sleeping?”

Shiroki looked embarrassed, “I...usually sleep most of the day. I like the night more.”

“That’s adorable. I don’t think there’s anything about you I don’t love.” That made her blush again. That night was the first time we made love. The next day, we were married.

-Excerpt from the memoirs of Sir Davin the Ambitious, Archbishop of the Church of Waifu

There is one issue that has baffled me since arriving in the New World and that is the mysterious phenomenon of waifus. Waifus existed in the Old World but did not have the same meaning as they do here. In my opinion, a waifu is the embodiment of a “soul-mate”, an Old World term that refers to two individuals that are destined to be together. Whether or not “soul-mates” actually existed in the Old World is not for me to say, but I do believe they exist here. Your waifu is your “soul-mate”, the one that fate has decided you will be with for the rest of your life and love unconditionally. This is what I cannot understand, what about this world has made waifus possible? For years now I have dedicated my life to finding the secret of the waifu. I have talked to some of the most brilliant minds of Teegee and beyond; experts in both the scientific and the arcane. Nothing and no one has been able to properly explain the waifu phenomenon. So I came to the conclusion that if it is not scientific or arcane in nature, it must be divine.

It was this realization that spurred me to form the Holy Church of Waifu. At first it was simply telling my story to others from Teegee, then it was preaching in the market, then the construction of our first chapel. Waifuism, as it has come to be called, became increasingly popular among many from Teegee.

Whatever causes the waifu phenomenon seems to also occur between waifus to a certain degree. Not necessarily as a romantic interest but a bond is still shared and a connection made. I have seen cooperation and even friendship between the most unlikeliest of people. Angels and Demons getting along.

-Excerpt from the notes of Sir Davin the Ambitious, Archbishop of the Church of Waifu
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Definitely didn't expect to see this thread in the catalog. Had one last story to finish up but when they disappeared I figured I wouldn't bother.
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Why the fuck is this still a thing that exists
Its just a small thing, but Gavran's declaration came before the Felim showed up. Other than that there is nothing wrong, and its a nice story.
Whoops, don't like getting my canon mixed up. How embarrassing.
So has anyone found the last thread on foolz tg yet?
Still like this approach to everything. It needs some justification for why a bunch of neckbeards would suddenly find it so easy to be surrounded by women like this. I can't speak for others, but I know I'd be terrified of screwing up, to such an extent I'd be paralysed and unable to do a damn thing.
>Wouldn’t reaching out be hard if nobody speaks the same language we do?
Normally, yes, very much so. However it turns out there is a point of similarity for us. Most races speak the Common Trade Tongue, or as we know it, old English. The natives won’t understand a word of ‘ramifications belying practicable quantum mechanics’, and we likely won’t understand much of “an’ he took oot his braw wee knife, loot a’ his duddies fa”, but there is common ground. Most make do with a ‘translate as you can’ spell, so we just coooast through.
For my character's part it was generally how I ended up with my girlfriends IRL >_> they pretty much had to hold me down and beat me over the head with the fact they were interested in me, same thing here, and all of the girls in my character's case (after Mikela, that is), were working with him for a while first.

I can't answer for other people, but that's my excuse.
My excuse is that crazy women flock to me irl it seems. Your scared out of your mind for the first few years then you just sort of get used to it. Then you wake up one morning and go what the hell just happened.
given who you're married too...
I think I realized that the reason I hate these threads is that they simultaneously miss the point of your generic monstergirl thread AND they try to claim ownership over monstergirls the same way KS did cripples.
Yep, also merry Christmas, I found the last thread not that it counts. http://archive.foolz.us/tg/thread/22828849/#22828849

Must not feed troll, nope can't resist. I don't remember claiming ownership of monstergirls.
On that subject, having read the last thread, I think we need to talk on the subject of what we want to do with the setting. Namely the modernization part. So the floor is open on the subject of lore, have at it.
You chucklefucks invariably end up getting brought up in monstergirl threads the same way KS invariably gets brought up whenever cripples are being discussed.
>hurr durr TRUUUULL
Get fucked.
I can't control what people say or do, so if someone brings us up somewhere else it is hardly my fault, I limit my stuff to the Harem Knights threads and only those.

I'm done arguing with trolls today.
Except that's bullshit since its usually one of you namefags.

And go ahead, keep labeling me a troll. Thatll really show me.
Last few monster girl threads that I can think of haven't had any of the local name fags I'm afraid... it's been brought up, but never by a trip or name fag.
I don't even use a name anywhere but here so there is that. But I invite anyone who thinks we are doing this wrong to try and do it better.
But they already did. See >>22930998.
I disagree with >>22939306, but I do agree with him on the fact that these threads completely missed the point of what made original monstergirl threads fun. It replaced lighthearted and silly interactions with demi-humans who had alien mannerisms and biologies with grimderp, HFY, trashy feaux-romance, and BDSM sex shops for whatever the fucking reason THAT was all about.
again, in that thread, I'm not seeing where they put any names... there's one knightish guy... SirBriggz, but he's not with us to my knowledge.
So, should I repost that meta thing I had up?

Hmm, is it time already? We discussed this before, did we not.

>All the troll posters
...is someone strapping you down into a restraining device that requires your constant internet input to feed you or something?

(Then again, don't feed the trolls)

Because I can see no other reason for you to constantly reply to a thread that you so clearly dislike.
Again, Im not the guy saying the Harem Knightsfags are invading that thread, Im saying that it managed to do adorable monstergirl waifus better and tell a better story about them than this whole Harem Knights thing which is founded on the idea of adorable monstergirl waifus. Its just kinda sad that a few anons throwing together some greentext can tell a more emotional and interesting story than whatever the hell is going on in this thread.

Though someone did try to direct the drawfag to this thread and that was in very poor form you assholes.
Except that the guy who did insulted us?
Try that again in English.
Go for it I guess.

I think the Harem Knights were less about cute monster girls and more about bro knights broing it up and having adventures. But cool ho story.
I'm saying that whoever directed him over here, the only person to even mention harem knights, was calling us shit as he referred to us. By what insane troll logic does referring to us in the negative make it likely for the artist to come over here?
Hey Jistin didn't you say you would have something for today?
>bro knights broing it up and having adventures
Except that it isnt even about that. Its about HFY, genocide, and imperialism at its very worst. I mean, you guys have people writing stories about serial killers for fucks sake.

Somewhere along the line everything became grimderp as fuck.
He was asking him to come to these threads to improve them.
>Its about HFY, genocide, and imperialism at its very worst. I mean, you guys have people writing stories about serial killers for fucks sake.
>Sounds like bros playing some tg to me.
Shit, I did. I'll get that finished soon.

noooo... he was saying that if our drawfags were as good then he might still be checking up on us... which suggests that he barely checks in, if at all... but yeah, forget this. Troll logic, why would I even try to fight that.
Wait who was it that was a serial killer? Still new to this and reading up on the threads.
In the earlier threads it was really both, and the idea turned into creating a society based around adventuring and romancing the shit out of whatever we find, which led to this.

It's really weird for us to take such a silly idea so seriously, and while I can't agree with every idea we've had, I understand that one of us acting like a shithead makes all of us look just as bad.

I'm really sorry you other guys are displeased with the threads, and I must apologize for those of us who are acting so rudely. I'm not trying to piss you guys off; I just come here to teach myself to write crazy adventures.
Not exactly a lighthearted bromance if it is founded on the blood of “lesser races”
Maybe I misread it then. I thought he was trying to shunt SirBriggz over here. If I was wrong I take back that last line of >>22940446, though the rest remains valid.
Murderhobos, the check's in the mail.
More seriously, there was that nasty fellow the press named "Silent Knife" running about. Nearly thirty dead of slit throats and vocal cords, over the course of two to three years, the attacks stopped around early 6AA, confirmed ended at the end of the year.

Same here Al. Came here to test out my ability to bang out a piece or two, and now I'm just having fun with it.

Coming Soon:
>wat do u mean its not meta?
Lets Play Teegee: Wizards, Romance, War
>It's really stupid for us to take such a silly idea so seriously
FTFY. Its the same reason WHH tanked so hard and became so insular. Watching the public opinion on these threads drop harder tham EA stocks on the suptg archives tells you everything you need to know.
As annoying as all the trolls are, we need to just focus on writefagging and discussion, otherwise there really is no point of the thread being here
Well, most of the collab stuff we worked on has been posted. We have one or two more in the works, but I suppose we should make something shorter to fill the time.

Working on stuff right now.
See, I feel like these threads have gotten to a point where they exist solely for the sake of existing, like a quest thread that doesn't know when to end. Its similar to that Mahou Shoujo shit.
Or 40K.
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Let’s Play Teegee: WWR
Part 1, Romance Must Die

After hearing about this game on the internet, I didn’t think it would be such a big thing, but imagine how surprised we all were when we got into it. Everyone has a different experience, some say it’s like soloing XCOM, others say it’s an expanded Dead Souls, some play it like Recettear. I ‘acquired’ my own version to see what all the fuss was about, and decided to load it up with some expansion packs. And the mods, don’t forget those, otherwise you get stuck with a buggy mess that sends invasions before you get through the tutorial, I mean, Hard Months.

It really says something about a game where it’s possible to die before it even gets into the main plot. Like the difficulty system, for example. I ran through the forums earlier and they always mention how newbs should stay away from Romance Must Die mode, and only three or four loop vets should try it out. Oh, it was on now, no Take it Easy mode for me.

Normal mode, or as it is now known as Classic, starts off with a town’s worth of Earth shmucks popping into the middle of nowhere, making do and scraping out an existence before being rescued by Felim caravans. That’s how the canon goes, and many people tend to whine about their own saves when they don’t get their ‘delicious cat-eared gypsy’ yadayada.
At least 40K is /supposed/ to be grimderp as fuck.
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You won’t believe the mods people pack into the game just so they can disable the random event generator. One of them stripped out every mention of the word _______ just because-, dammit, it did it again. It messes up your hardware something fierce, so look out.

So, character creation. This game has one of the most detailed customisation this side of the block. It’s right up there with Saints Row and Hero System. I’ve seen players post up all the Doctor Whos and James Bonds. Hitting random sometimes comes up with really weird combos, so I decided to not chance it and went with tweaking a prefab. I was now playing as a youngish unfit shut in called Wendell. Not exactly my first choice, but I can always make an alt. Besides, with the titles and fame system, Wendell would soon be a name to be feared, especially once I started breaking the learning curve.

Next up, loading the mods. This is a fun part, because the modding community went cabin fever wild when they heard about this game. There’s a mod for everything, one that fixes the godawful accents in the language pack, one that fixes the graphics bugs, the obligatory Middle Earth copypasta. But apart from the bugfixes, of which there are many, like the notorious shovel launcher, there are added campaigns and quest packs to play out everything from Castlevania to Eragon.
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There’s this one mod called Rogues Gallery, it adds a pack of pre-generated villains to the world gen, and sometimes mixes it up with a random or two. This is so players can do something other than raid dungeons all the day, which gets boring in time. Remember the Boss Saga? Yeah, we all wanted a villain that would last more than two encounters, and boy, does this mod deliver. There was the body hopping serial killer Change Daily, the necromantic witch hunter Simon Double Dollars, the living plague Alpha, everyone has a favourite in the polls. I quickly decided mine was Davinci, the techno terrorist extraordinaire. His trick was that for each encounter, no matter what happened, a random tech would be fully researched free of charge. I couldn’t wait to see what would happen.

So, dropped Wendell off in the forest, had a wander round, and got ganked by… food poisoning? I don’t even have a herbalist skill yet, how was I supposed to know those plants weren’t safe! Gah, but I said Romance Must Die, and I’m not going to quit now. I played Dwarf Fortress, I played IWBTG, I knew what I was getting into. A half dozen reloads later and two pages worth of map notes, and I had survived the hunting tutorial. Wendell was quite the hunter, so I began focusing him on less bulk intensive skills.


Well, I just found out what Romance Must Die actually means. It wasn’t the harsh environment, it wasn’t the unforgiving survival system, and it sure wasn’t the combat.
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It was the NPC interaction AI. Remember how the old saying goes that men and women will never understand each other? Apply that to literally every other NPC in the game. Wendell was now harem anime levels of dense, or the races of Eurona communicated through telepathy, because the first encounter with the Felim ended in disaster. The AI is bloody brilliant, I’ll give you that.

So discard all notions of happy fluffy romantic comedy when you graduate Take it Easy, this game’s relationships system plays for keeps. I needed a gorram shipping wall, just to figure out the correct sequence of lines to say before the shopkeepers introduced me to the trade system, and Wendell’s underused barter skill meant that I needed to cash in promises on credit. That paid off when it gave me the perk Man of My Word, but I will never talk smack against WoW players ever again. Farming small furry animals is hard enough when they can cause rabies, and I was surprised by the detail of realism in this game.

And I wasn’t even up to the main storyline yet. None of the mods had kicked in, and the Romance Must Die locks meant that there was no chance of a waifu companion this early on for Wendell. Magical aptitude testing required a friendly, that is non-hostile, mage NPC in camp, and elven archery would always outdistance Wendell’s sling and darts. It was time to get bloodied, go Rambo and Predator on nature. In short, the Elven incursion tutorial, featuring combat, finally.
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You know the stories where the hero goes in and fights off the oppressive captors of the beautiful maidens and they swoon into his arms in gratitude? Well, that actually happened. The other TG NPCs got their elf ear rubbings, but I was still suspicious since it all seemed too easy. All the unforgiving survival mechanic taught me that nothing should ever be simple, and Wendell was picking up on some weird vibes in the speech trees.


I don’t think anyone would have guessed the Elven females were Trojan Honey Traps, they damn near decimated the total pop in their initiative round. Hunting down the last of the High Elves controlling them took every bit of my patience to not destroy the screen, but we were back on track. Teegee was formed with Felim and Elven migrants, and the basics of the town were built. And now Wendell was a Sir Wendell, being one of the few combat vets still standing. Hooray.

My main concern was money, but turning to ADVENTURE didn’t help out Wendell with the high tax bracket the DMs put, and dungeon diving paid out less in gold and more in hard learnt lessons. No artefacts in sight either. The lore didn’t even state how these things popped up, and the higher level players all kept mum about it.

So, I went back to the tried and time honoured tactic of reading everything in sight! The game tracks every bit of info you get exposed to, and represents this learning by slowly adding subtitles to the foreign languages.
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Soon enough, I could use the language locked dialogue options in Felim, Elf and native Mirthan. That made me a diplomat, by accounts, and gave me a license to noble courts, the Felim Jungles, and the plains folk. Choosing a Latin language course back in school made picking out the roots all the easier, and due to Wendell’s rampant book kleptomania, he earned the titles Well Read, Scholar and Bibliophile for simply having more than two dozen books. I sometimes forget this game is set in the medieval periods, what with the cats and the dogs and the-


Orcs. So, you know what’s fun? Fighting. You know what’s not fun? Hammering out diplomatic terms by dint of being the most well read PC in the place. Translating Orc meant working with the AI interaction system, and that was still a convoluted jumble of mixed messages and half truths. The invasion came about a year earlier, in mid 3AA, and there was no way we’d been able to fight off the army by that point. Guerrilla tactics didn’t work when your enemy cut the entire forest down. Maybe I can work with that…


Wendell, you devious bastard. I would applaud myself if it didn’t mean I was shooting myself in the foot. Having set the Orcs and Elves on each other brought Teegee some breathing space, it turns out there’s a reason for the dual wielding pens skill. Faking declarations of war is easy enough when you get the r’s all curly, and it drove their attention away long enough to drive the dagger in.
And yet it still continues to exist for the sake of existing, a big grimderp fantasy that some people enjoy, some don't and a hell lot more simply don't care.
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Drumroll please, what did the title system give us today? Tricky Nick? Well, apparently these Orcs can appreciate brutal cunning, as they still joined Teegee even with our underhanded tactics. It wasn’t too bad a set up. Three years in and two major battles won, Wendell was starting to look somewhat fearsome.

The game has a subtle foreign relations tracking system, that allows your actions to affect other races mood to Teegee and vice versa, sometimes a random event will pop out of nowhere and flip the whole thing around. I used a mod to let it emulate the diplomacy of Total War, and being a diplomat meant I could check everyone’s mood to us. Teegee usually has a bonus to foreign nonhuman relations, but Romance Must Die lessened it a fair bit.

What with the dungeon diving to pay for language lessons, the language lessons to translate books, the books to make dictionaries, I finally twigged on to the importance of tech trees. I really wanted to multiclass to scientist on the spot, but I didn’t have the necessary skills for the prestige class, or the resources for a lab. It seems that the rest of the map was stuck in a slow pace of innovation, and any changes would need to be hard input by the player’s actions.

After petitioning the Council for a printing press, Wendell locked himself in his study. The game picked up on this, as the Council popped a quest for me to make nice with the natives.

Next time on Let’s Play Teegee: WWR
Part 2, A Human Handshake
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And that's all from me, for now.

Busy, busy, busy.

Comments, critiques, criticisms, etc, welcome.
It continues because it is GWs cashcow, you fucking dipshit.
because a lot of people like it and buy it...
And that's comparable to ~4 people spamming their self-insert fapfaggotry ad nauseum how?
Two words: Matt Ward.
Whitty come back Anon
And you want to aspire to be Matt Ward why exactly?

Besides, even Matt Ward does more than just jerk his self-inserts off to monstergirls. So congratulations on just admitting that you are worse than Ward.
No need to be sarcastic, you asshole. I'm fucking defending you guys.
I wasn't being sarcastic so I apologize for coming off that way, I truly did think it was witty.
Whatever, Ive had enough of this. Maybe when I bother to visit these threads again they wont be so shitty and the namefags will be less antagonistic towards anons.
They were antagonistic because some whiny git came into their thread and forgot the golden rules of /tg/: Be excellent to each other and party on.
But that's no excuse for our behavior, we forgot the golden rule too.
So that gives them the right to be dicks to everyone? No wonder no one likes these threads anymore.
Wasn't me, this was >>22942096
Not all of us forgot that rule, but enough did to make it inconsequential.

If people are posting stories, I think that invalidates that part of your claim. But I understand what you're saying. We all need to just calm down, think about this, and start being excellent to each other again.
>If people are posting stories, I think that invalidates that part of your claim
Not really. Thats just a really dedicated minority.
You said nobody, though.

Eh, whatever.

A dedicated minority is enough, don't you think? There is the fact that if it's on the internet, it will be hated, but it will also be enjoyed.

If someone enjoys something, they ought to be allowed to enjoy it. How many people make fun of us neckbeards for enjoying DnD or other games? Aren't we all just repeating that cycle by attacking others for something WE don't like?

That's not excellent.
>You said nobody, though.
Now you're being one of those pedantic fucks who wont let someone get away with a generalization without derailing the entire conversation in dickering over intent as opposed to the exact wordage used. Dont be one of those faggots
>That's not excellent.
Its also not excellent to take up space where you are clearly unwanted.
The irony being that this conversation really doesn't belong in this thread. Why don't we take it somewhere else.
Its a conversation about Harem Knights in a Harem Knights thread, I don't see where else it would belong.
>people are still arguing about this
Its really more of a conversation on why one guy thinks he is the solo decider of what is and is not /tg/ with Harem Knights being one aspect of it. And its eating up space for stories that could go here. Meaning that when someone comes with a new story and this conversation has killed this thread they will have to make a new thread, that being something that the guy does not want. My real question is what does any of this assine bickering accomplish. The Knights will keep doing what they will do. The detractors will keep complaining and the mods will step in every once in a while and purge things.
You didn't answer my question. Where else would this go if not in these threads?
Well it could be in another thread, maybe a thread for every complainer who wanted to bitch about something. The emperor knows we have enough of those people that we could support an infinite number of threads on the subject. The anti quest people, and the anti monster girl people, and the anti insert edition people, and the anti 40k people could all get together and have their own thread were they can voice their grievances without ruining other peoples threads.
>Well it could be in another thread
Which would be yet another Harem Knights thread? Are you proposing to flood the board with Harem Knights threads? What would that even accomplish?
I said a non Harem Knights thread, more a thread made for complainers. As at this rate our conversation will kill this thread and then there will be another Harem Knights thread. So its either multiple Harem knights threads or one and one bitching about shit thread, as this conversation has almost nothing to do with Harem Knights. If you were discussing the lore, the fluff, a story, a character, an idea you had for one such thing or so on then it would be Harem Knights related. So far all this is related to is... oh wait nothing.
So you are proposing to discuss Harem Knights in a NON Harem Knights thread?

Invading other threads is not gonna get people to think very highly of you guys.
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What a great fucking thread
You sir are so retarded and have so little reading comprehension that it is a wonder you can find your own asshole, but you clearly must as your head is so far up it you can't be asked to pull it out. So one last time I will say it slowly and with simple words for your thickheaded ignorant ass. This is not a conversation about Harem Knights, this is a conversation about how some peoplelike to bitch about things on /tg/ and who they should have the final say on what is and is not belonging on /tg/. As the mods have not deleted a single Harem Knight thread or post, but have deleted the trolls posts it is clear we belong on here. Now if you were to actually talk about the subject of Harem Knights then sure you would belong in this thread. But seeing as how you can't process that simple concept, and you can't seem to get the idea of taking your complaining somewhere else, where you would be accepted and be on topic. That only leaves you looking like a raging asshole with a thickhead an a love of trolling.
>This is not a conversation about Harem Knights
Yes it is and trying to relabel it as some sort of grand, sweeping conversation about /tg/ as a whole isnt going to change that. This conversation has always been about Harem Knights, even when you were actively trying to derail it.
>As the mods have not deleted a single Harem Knight thread or post
Thats a lie. Several Harem Knights posts have been deleted.
>That only leaves you looking like a raging asshole with a thickhead an a love of trolling.
Ad hominem gets you nowhere, anon.
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Ok then talk about Harem Knights lets hear it, cause so far all I have heard is Whaa.

Bullshit. I have the thread right in front of me. and there is not a single greyed out Namefag on it. Lots of trolls.
Concerning all the insults already thrown about your argument is invalid. So next thread, lets try to go with out insults, and then you can call me on Ad hominem.
By that filename, it looks like you have no idea what ad hominem is.
That was in response to the>>22944257
>As the mods have not deleted a single Harem Knight thread or post
Thats a lie. Several Harem Knights posts have been deleted.

Pay attention and learn to read.
Or how to spell it, for that matter.
So you intentionally miscomprehend simple concepts in order to get back at random anons? Thats bizarre.
You were the one throwing out insults like they were candy, not me.
Yep sure is gay around here. All these Anons, not a single story, less than 50 post from auto sage. This calls for something.
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I have just the answer
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We could have had this but no.
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Not just any porn but gay tentacle porn
Harem Knights was never about exploring.
Well what is this? All of a sudden no one wants to Bull shit? You scared off everyone who was talking to you, the writers are else where and here you are and here I am sinking the thread. Well this is sure a productive day for you isn't it.
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Thats nice.
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I propose more AMERICA up in this bitch.
Mate, are you failing at samefag or talking to yourself?
Quit throwing a temper tantrum you little cunt.
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Wait, no that would be the sound of whiners. But I'm having fun.
He is having himself a pms.
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You know what this needs? More magical girls. All of them.
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The best magical girls are the ones who want to rape you.
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There is only rape.
And people said the trolls cant hurt anyone.
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Not very well anything in here at the moment.
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Sticks and stones may break my bones but words are like women. A look a monstergirl, must be Harem Knights crap.
It most certainly has driven this thread to shit.

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