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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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Hi there. My name’s Solaron. I like to think I’m a pretty nice guy, I haven’t hurt anybody, haven’t stolen anything, I don’t make a habit of ruining people’s days, in fact I try to make their days whenever I can. Just try and explain that to the people chasing me. Them, they’re not so nice, in fact they’re being quite mean right now, and are generally making my life more difficult than it needs to be. Who are they? Well, that’s a bit embarrassing.

See, the people chasing me, they’re actually the town guards from this nice little village I am visiting, or was visiting. All in all I spent about ten minutes there to be honest. I just came moseying into town, minding my own business, went into the inn to try and get a room for the night, and WHAM the guards burst in and try to drag me off. I didn’t even have a chance to do anything wrong! I didn’t even get my book out to entertain the patrons.

So here I am just idly talking to the barkeep when they burst in swords drawn and start making a ruckus of everything. I wonder what they’re here for but then they start pushing through the crowd and shouting “Grab that monster!” Now, I haven’t always lived a perfect life, I’ve been known to pull a few pranks, but I don’t think I quite qualify as a monster thank you very much, so when they were almost all the way through the crowd I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and bolted.
So here I am now, fleeing for my life from a dozen or so irate town guards, who are shouting things like “Monster” “wretched beast” and “Reptilian horror”. I try to lose them in the woods, looping around trees, dropping through tall grass, leading them in circles. They may be the town guards, but they sure don’t know how to move through forests very well, and I start to give them the slip.

Finally I go up a tall tree and nestle in the upper branches, blending in quite well with the foliage, trying to stay as still as I can, and trying not to chuckle as I look at the clueless guards meandering around the clearing beneath me. After a little while they seem to think they’ve run me off and turn around to go back to town.

I wait until it’s all clear and climb higher into the tree raising myself up through the leaves at the top and take a nice stretch. It’s a shame this town ran me out, it would have been nice to have a proper bed for the night. But I have a magnificent sunset to admire. The kinds of colors and majesty artists dream of capturing is laid out before me on the canvas of the evening clouds, and even though the air is starting to chill the sunlight feels pretty good on my scales.
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What? Oh right, scales. I forgot to mention earlier.

I’m a Yuan Ti.
I am watching the thread

Hey /tg/ I came up with a character concept a while ago and posted it to the appropriate thread. Some people started to have fun with it and someone approved of my idea to write a story about it.

Therefore I am posting as I write, any suggestions or comments along the way would be appreciated.

Do you want to hear the character concept now, or just let it unravel through the course of the story?

Cool, one reader already.
Now then, let's just open Ye Old Book of Wiki, and have a look-sie.

> yuan-ti are a fictional species of evil snakemen in the fantasy role-playing game Dungeons & Dragons.

There you have it. My best wishes to the town guard, and the adventurers that they inevitably hire to slay this beast, and whatever it has kidnapped to type for it. May Pelor guide your blades.
Now, here we see the average, dumb and closed-minded paladin. He does not give the poor fella a chance! Now I'm sure that if we all went and had a barby and a beer all would be just right, ay mate?

I suppose I should explain a few things before things get too out of hand. I was born in a litter of five, two brothers and two sisters. Big family I know. Anyway most of my childhood was spent in the steamy jungles of our homeland. My parents were pretty rich, have to say, nice big home and a bunch of servants to tend to us and the family. My parents hired a tutor to come and teach the kids when we were old enough, he was a bit, odd. He taught us some cool stuff, like how to track people in the forest, how to sneak around and move silently.

Those were the lessons I put to the most use, slithering out of the house when nobody was looking, darting through shadows in the city and avoiding the gaze of the crowds. I always imagined I was on some important secret mission, or on the run from a dragon or a lich of some such beast. More often than not my secret missions would end with me on a rooftop looking at a play or a big dance, or listening to a band. Those were good days.

Eventually I would either go back or be caught and dragged home by some of my parent’s servants or house guards. The other lessons weren’t so much fun. Lots of boring lessons on long dead rulers, and crumbled kingdoms. This war and that coup, some great plague or famine, some natural some not. My siblings paid a lot of attention to these but I never did. Dry boring political ramblings was not the proper mental diet for a growing serpent! I had much more important things to occupy my time, like catching the new play in town, I was very interested to see that one.

Anybody interested in this?
It looks like it could be amusing.
And capatcha says the starlings are laffibli enjoying this too

It was a dramatic retelling of the life of a great Yuan Ti hero, Shilaven the clever, and how he helped defeat a far off kingdom a few hundred years ago. It was supposed to be a rather exciting story, intrigue and action, and I desperately needed some action to break up the monotony of listening to my tutor drone on and on about some lich in a far off land. So I did what I like to think any kid would do. I snuck away from home for a night out on the town.

Now I’ve seen a great many towns in my time. Little farming villages filled with white cottages and thatched roofs. Trade towns with walls made of straight logs. Fishing villages where a third of the town seems to float on the waves, but nothing has yet to compare with the city of my youth. Great buildings of grey stone rising out of the jungle, some kept bare and polished, others covered with intertwining flowering vines. Everywhere was the bustle of activity and movement, talk and chatter. Tropical birds flitted through the air and I think I could hear a band playing in the distance.

I tried to catch the tune and almost let it draw me off my path, but I focused, tonight I was on a mission. No aimless sightseeing for me, no sir. It took a little while, but I finally got to the theater, a rather impressive structure, great statues of winged serpents rising up on either side of the doors. It seemed that the performance had drawn quite a crowd, I heard that this acting troupe had been all around the jungle performing their latest hit, and I was eager to see if it lived up to the hype.
I went into the theater. Just in time it would seem, I was the last one in line. I hoped there would still be some seats left. I admit I was a bit overwhelmed by the scope of the theater, even if this was just the entry hall! Most of the plays I had seen so far were in much smaller venues, outdoor stages and small theaters, but this, this was the great theater hall, and I had never been here before.

The line moved on and I scurried to catch up, slithering over to the ticket booth. The lady taking the money gave me a tired smile and asked where I wanted to sit.

“Oh, wherever there’s room left.” I said, “I just want to see the play, I don’t care about fancy boxes of anything. How much does it cost?”

“Well admission is ten gold.” She said, “And that doesn’t cover any food or drinks.”

My heart sank, I didn’t have ten gold with me. I unhitched my purse and dropped what coins I had onto the desk.

“What can I get for this?” I asked.
She pursed her lips and started counting my coins, frowning when she had counted them all up.

“I’m sorry.” She said, “But there isn’t enough here, I can’t let you in.”

As you can imagine, I was devastated.
“Are you sure? This is all I have. Can’t I just sit in the aisle?”

She looked a bit annoyed by this point. “No you can’t sit in the aisle, this is the grand theater hall, we can’t just have kids laying about in the aisles wherever they want to.”

“But I reeeeally want to see this.” I said. “I’ve never seen a play in here, and this is the only place in the city they will play and I really want to hear the story.” I grin sheepishly.

Her face softens a bit, and she seems a bit more sincere now. “I really am sorry, but I can’t let you in. You have to pay so much to get in and that is just the rules, sorry kid.”

Then, an idea struck me. “Maybe I can make it up to you!” I said.

“I don’t think…” She started to say, but I cut her off.

I raised myself up a bit and leaned over the desk, giving her my number two best smile.

“There has to be some other way I can make it up to you. Maybe I could do something for you? Working here can’t be easy and you must feel tired and lonely out here by yourself.”

Any comments or suggestions would be welcome, it helps me keep going if I know some people are enjoying this, and thanks for the two above who commented.
lets have a look

Original concept here


If you want to see it unfold through the story then don't follow the link.
Go on good sir, i find this both amusing and intriguing

She leans back a bit and stutters something I can’t quite pick up.

“Pleeease?” I say, “I would be really grateful.”

She’s giving me an odd look now. Before she was sort of looking in my direction but now I seem to have her absolute attention. It’s a little unnerving to tell the truth, but I sense I have the advantage and press on.
“I can’t just,” She stammers, “I couldn’t,”
She’s wavering a bit, trying to make up her mind. I ratchet up to the number one best smile and rest my chin on my hands.
“I would do everything I could to make it worth it for you.” I said.
She stammers for a few more seconds, before she finally relents.
“Okay. Here’s a ticket, not the best seat but don’t complain.”
She hands over the little paper slip, the key to my happiness.

“Thanks.” I say and turn to go, but she grabs my arm. She pushes another piece of paper into my hand before I can go in. I read it and see it’s an address not far from here.

“Stop on by once you get out.” She says, packing up. “I’ll be waiting.”

Author’s note. Did I mention he’s going to be a bard when he grows up?

Well that was, odd. I thought, but she let me in so I’ll chalk this up as a win. I headed down to my seat and settled in to enjoy the show. It started with a court scene, a long dead king railing against his court about the threat of some far off kingdom, and how it was imperative to deal with them for the glory of yeah yeah so on and so forth.

Then the actor playing Shilaven takes center stage, and I have to admit I am impressed by the performance. He’s everything a hero should seem to be, a big black scaled male with amber eyes, a flowing black cloak that flutters whenever he moves, his long wizards staff resting idly in his hand.
Shilaven pledges to end the threat of the far off kingdom so that they might never again threaten the rise of his majesty, and sets off on his mission. The following scenes are all about Shilaven’s work, manipulating the human court, poisoning the kings ministers, framing dupes and always disappearing into the shadows. This part I didn’t like so much, it reminded me too much about my lessons back home.
Then things took a decided turn for the interesting, for it was about halfway through the play that The Falcon showed up. Shilaven’s legendary enemy, the Falcon was a human warrior who set himself against the Yuan Ti wizard and nearly foiled his plans. So called for the sculpted avian mask he wore, the Falcon was a lively and colorful character, who earned the anger and respect of his opponent.
The Falcon’s first appearance certainly made the play more interesting, a spot of jumping color to liven up a rather slow performance. They battled across the stage, Shilaven firing lightning bolts at the human rogue, who nimbly dodged his attacks.

“I’m not boring you am I?” Asked the Falcon, hanging from a rafter by his knees, before Shilaven slashed at him with his staff. Just when the wizard seemed to have the Falcon dead to rights the human vanished in a puff of smoke just before the death blow was dealt. It was a thrilling scene, I could feel the disappointment in the crowd.

The play rambled on a bit longer, more political intrigue and sneaky undermining, before the Falcon arrived again in the final act. This fight was even better than the last, the Falcon showing amazing feats of gymnastics while Shilaven let loose with incredible sorcerous power, all while the kingdom collapsed in anarchy around them. The Falcon stood on one foot atop a lamp post, his head cocked comically to one side, before leaping down and slashing at Shilaven, who sent him flying with a shock of raw force.

In the end Shilaven stood victorious, raising his staff as he declared victory over the defeated body of his opponent, cloak billowing in a magical breeze. He slithered offstage to a round of applause, and the lights dimmed. But just before they vanished completely, the Falcon appeared in the last blot of light, giving a dramatic bow to the audience, before vanishing in one last puff of smoke.

Needless to say, the crowd blew the roof off the theater, and the actors had to take three curtain calls.

Not a bad show all told.

So with the show done, I decided it was time to go pay my dues, I had the nice girl at the ticket booth to thank for this evening’s entertainment after all. I felt it only fair if I returned the favor. I didn’t have enough money for dinner or any kind of gift, so I was a little worried I couldn’t make the evening as nice for her as it was for me, but I resolved to try my best, and a few minutes later I was knocking on the door of a rather modest home.

She answered the door with a smile and beckoned me in. Her house was, well, small compared to mine, but then my parents were pretty wealthy powerful people so only the best would do for our family. We passed a living room and kitchen.

“Oh good.” I say, seeing the large wooden dinner table set out in the living room.

“What’s good?” She asks, still smiling.

“Oh, I just saw the table out there, I’m going to make use of that.”

She seemed a bit confused. “You wouldn’t prefer the bed?”

I blink twice, a little confused.

“No, I need a more stable surface for what I have in mind.” I say, making patting motions with my hands to demonstrate.

She looks a bit confused, but also a little intrigued.

“And plus we have the couch out here.” I say.

She grins again and nods. “Alright, I’m going to get some drinks, you just.” She motions for the table, “Get ready.”

I hurry to prepare myself, moving the table directly in front of the couch and grabbing a few things. She returns a few minutes later, a glass of wine in each hand.

“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I hope you…” She looks up to see me.

“What?” She says flatly.

I whirl around, traveler’s coat flying dramatically, waving my walking stick over my head.

“Ladies and, well lady. Welcome to the tale of Shilaven, played entirely by yours truly.”

She stares blankly at me for a few seconds. “What?” She says again, sinking down onto the couch.

She looks like she’s about to say something else, but I decide to not lose momentum and launch into act one with all the enthusiasm I can muster. When I play the part of the king I rear up as high as I can, and put a rain cap on, it would have to stand in for a crown. Then I dart down and throw my hood up, speaking in the hissing whisper of Shilaven. My audience blinks in confusion and downs a glass of wine. I choose to interpret that as a good sign.

I decided to spice up the more boring bits of the play with some snarky dialogue and a few jokes, and to my great joy my audience’s mood starts to improve after a while, her smile coming back faintly, before growing into a wide grin.

(had you thinking for a moment didn't I.)

You sneaky bastard you, I almost abandoned thread.
I don’t have a bird mask for the Falcon, so instead I hold a feather duster up to my head. Doing a fight scene between two characters when you play both characters isn’t very easy, but I manage to do a tolerable job, darting and weaving between the two positions, imperiously waving my walking stick like a staff one moment, darting and stabbing like a rapier the next.

I raise up on my coils and flip over, looking at her grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m not boring you am I?” I ask mockingly.

“No.” She stammers between fits of giggles, “No you certainly are not.”

Now completely confident in myself I launch into the final act. One moment I gesture dramatically with my ‘staff’ proclaiming my victory, another I lie on the ground, eyes crossed with my tongue hanging out in a comic pantomime of death.

After ‘Shilaven’ leaves for the last time I leap up and give a dramatic bow, ‘rapier’ flourishing before I twist back and disappear under the table, springing out a moment later sans costume to take a bow. My lady friend claps as hard as she can, doubled over laughing, waving me over.

She pulls me into a crushing hug, still laughing. After a few moments she lets go and calms down enough to speak.

“Well, that certainly wasn’t what I was expecting tonight.” She says. “But that was fun, you seem to have a talent.”

I grin sheepishly. “I just thought that since you are always out in the lobby you wouldn’t get to see the plays, so I thought I might put one on for you.”

I was about to continue but she pulled me into another hug, so I let it drop.

We had a drink together and I left a little while later, wandering back out into the dark streets and heading for home.

Yep, pretty good night.

Really had you going didn't I?

I was still riding high on my grand debut into the realm of theater when, to my great delight, my lessons got a lot more interesting. While I still had my boring history lessons with my old tutor, my parents had decided we were old enough to start learning how to fight, and hired a couple more tutors to teach their children the art of combat. Needless to say I was absolutely thrilled at the change in curriculum and took to it with singular enthusiasm. My personal instructor was an older warrior, retired from active service, his mottled scales crisscrossed with scars and blemishes, wearing a simple ornamental robe.

While my siblings chose to fight with bows, daggers and throwing knives, I alone elected to start learning the way of the sword. I looked through the choice of weapons, with my instructor extolling the virtues of each, though I never looked at any for more than a few moments. There were long swords, short swords, curved swords, swords that formed a twisting path like a slithering serpent, but none of those interested me.

Then, oh then I saw my blade. I reached in, grinning and picked it up, drawing the battered sword from its scabbard. It was long and thin, curved a bit towards the end, with a nice agile weight to it. It reminded me of the Falcon’s sword if I’m honest.

“What is this one?” I ask my dubious trainer.

“That is a fighting saber.” He says, “A human weapon from far away, I am sure there are other more suitable blades for a young man of your stature.”

I give the saber a few experimental flicks, feeling how well it seems to sit in my hand.

“Oh no, I’m quite sure.”

My instructor still seems dubious, but he accepted my choice and we began to train. After a while he seemed to warm up a little, and we began to work together in earnest. The months that followed are, I’m sure to say, some of the happiest I ever had when I was living in the city of my birth. Long days of swordplay with my instructor, followed by nights out on the town or lazing in my room.

But, sadly, nothing lasts forever.
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Liking it so far?

Any comments questions or critiques?

Remember, comments help give me the will (to live) press on!

Oh and his instructor looks like this.
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I've been popping in to read between Guns of Icarus Online round, so far I'm enjoying it!
Please continue!

Glad to hear that.

More coming up.
Enjoying it so far, OP, please carry on.
I want to hear what kind of mishaps our ertswhile snakeman gets into on his path to ADVENTURE!
I do like it. Solaron is just so childishly enthusiastic about things.
Best bard ever

It had been a few months since I had begun my training as a swordsman, and I like to think that I had earned some level of competence in the art, though I was still nowhere near that of my instructor. Then, one day, my father summoned me and my siblings to his study. My father is a fairly powerful man in our society, a man of power and influence who has long controlled a profitable trading empire. There are whispers he controls a lot more, but I have never chosen to look to closely at those. So, with my siblings standing off beside me, I pulled myself up as straight as I could and awaited my father’s word.

“I have been watching your studied.” He began in his usual low voice. “And you have progressed well, for the most part.” He looked at me when he said the last part, and one of my sisters snickers.

“But the time has come for you to leave the nest, as it were. You are each being sent away in the morning, so that you may continue to learn out in the wider world.” He slithers out and moves past each of us in turn. One of my brothers is going to be a lieutenant in a war band, another is going to study as a wizard. One of my sisters is going to be an alchemist, and the other is going to become a courtier. Whatever that is. Finally, my father stops at me.

“Solaron.” He says, the familiar weight of disapproval in his voice. “Your performance in classes is disappointing, but your diligence in your sword drills is not without note, though your choice of weapon is unorthodox. You are going to spend some time with Chief Burgel, an old bandit friend. Perhaps there you will come to understand what it means to be a real Yuan Ti.”

With that he turns and leaves without another word.


Thank you all, I'm glad you're enjoying it. Comments like these help keep me going.
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I'm enjoying it. Also I remember your concept from last night and yay you're making a story!

Someone expressed interest, so I decided I might as well give it a try.
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It's a solid character concept and you are portraying it very well. This is the only reaction image i have for awsomeness.

On my way back to my room I was stopped by my instructor.

“I have been told you are leaving with the morning.” He said.

“Yeah, dad hopes that I’ll become a real man if I spend enough time around a bunch of bandits.”

My instructor nods, he seems a bit sad. I smile and try to cheer him up.

“I’ve had a great time training with you.” I said, “You’re a great teacher.”

My instructor scoffs.

“I am an old man who has seen his share of war, now trotted out by nobles and rich traders to teach their whelps how to hold a knife. I have taught many Sol, many warriors and rogues, many men and women great and small. I have seen warriors who channel their rage into their style, subtle rogues who strike where it will cause the most pain, and a thousand other styles.”

He fixes me with a heavy stare.

“But I have never trained one like you.”

You do me great honor.
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Keep going, /tg/ loves us some good storytiem.

I worried that he was disapproving of something I had done, but then he continued.

“I have seen warriors who put their zeal into a fight, who push themselves with their own ambition or desire, but not you. You put your whole self into your sword play. When you fight you do so unmarred by greed or desire, hatred or ambition. There is no malice in your strikes. I had thought never to meet another who fought as such, but even an old man like me can be surprised. I have enjoyed our time together young Solaron, and brought you this as a parting gift.”

He reached into his robes and pulled out a saber in its scabbard. Far from the nicked and scratched training blade I had learned with, this was a fine sword, elegant hilt glinting from atop its long silvery scabbard. I reach out with a trembling hand and pulled it free, looking at the clean elegant blade tapering down to the tip.

I give it a few experimental swings, and find it very much to my liking. I replace the saber in its scabbard, at a loss for words.

“Master, I do not know what to say.”

“Then perhaps, you should not say anything.”

I nod, and clasping the sword before me, bow deeply, which he returns. After a long moment of silence we rise.

“Farewell master.”

“Farewell Solaron, and best of luck in your travels.”

I shall try to deliver.

It didn’t take me very long to gather my things for the journey. I didn’t really have all that much I really cared to take. Some personal bedding, a few ornamental clothes, a few books I cared to keep reading and my saber of course. Tucking my favorite old stuffed dragon into the pocket of my traveling cloak, I clipped my saber onto my belt and headed out. I said a few goodbyes to some servants I had grown fond of and headed out for the docks. The ship I was to take was a bit old, but still in fairly good condition and I took to it eagerly, showing my papers to the ship’s captain.

We set sail later that morning, and I wound my way up the mast to look back at the city of my youth. I admit I felt a pang of nostalgia then, thinking of all the times I had snuck through the streets on mock secret missions, stole apples from a vendor and watched an outdoor performance, or simply lazed on a rooftop and watched the stars. When the city finally sunk out of view I felt very alone all of a sudden. Just me and the crew in our little wooden island out at sea.

But then the wind shifted, and I turned to look ahead. Now, I know that many of you have probably spent some time on a ship. And those of you who haven’t probably don’t think there’s anything spectacular about looking over the bow of a ship at sea, but try to put yourself in my shoes. Here I was, a young impressionable lad, saber on my hip, looking out into the great expanse of the unknown.

It wasn’t just the open sea that lay before me, it was the entire world, laid out in front of my eyes. Once as distant and mysterious as the surface of the moon, I was now faced with the undeniable knowledge that it was getting closer by the second. With every passing moment I set out further from the world I had known, and deeper into the uncharted territory of the great wide world, in all its mystery and wonder. I waved a hand into the blowing sea air and let loose a great howl of joy. At that moment I felt that I had only to let go of the mast to be carried off to lands unknown by the sea wind.

I didn’t of course, but it was still a cool feeling.

Keep up the good work!

And for your consideration: unless it has changed recently, the maximum word count for a post is somewhere around 300 words. I don't know how symbols play into the post limit.
his child like joy and naivety about life is refreshing and humorous
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>Tucking my favorite old stuffed dragon into the pocket of my traveling cloak,


Thanks, I usually just write a few paragraphs and then see if it fits, breaking it in half if needed.


And I meant to say 'put yourself in my place' I don't think Yuan Ti have phrases that refer to shoes.
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I'm a bard from a far, far away land, and i've stopped to hear your story.
Please, go on.

I had never really had any lessons on the workings of a ship, let alone actually been on one, so I spent much of my time watching the crew go about their business. They ran hither and thither, carrying buckets and barrels, bits of canvas and trays. They went up the masts, down the masts, across the deck, throwing lines into the sea and dragging them back, working the incomprehensible array of ropes and pulleys and sails that somehow made the ship move. Safe to say that the spectacle of the operation of the ship entertained me for a number of days.

After the confusing array of bells whistles and pulleys started to bore me, I turned my attention to the crew themselves, who were just as, if not more, interesting than the ship they sailed. Indeed, this was the first time in my life I had seen a human, and I found them to be oddly fascinating. Now, we have some breeds of Yuan Ti that look almost human, but if you look close enough you can see the smooth scales or the slited eyes, and you could always tell by the smell, but here was a race entirely unknown to me.

Smooth skin, not a scale in sight, hair in utterly bizarre places, and the smell was, well let us call it distinctive. I watched the crew whenever I got a chance, but usually shied away when they took notice of me. I found their perfectly round pupils a bit unnerving to be honest, and found myself unable to stare them down. They seemed to find this endlessly amusing.

When the anthropological interests on the ship began to bore me, I took up my saber and practiced with it upon the quarter deck whenever it was clear enough to do so. I found a certain inspiration in practicing under the starry night sky, and took to the deck after hours whenever I was able. Word got around through the crew, and some of them came up to amuse themselves watching the exotic snake man practice his strange arts of swordsmanship. A few of them fought a few friendly duels with me, which I almost always won, before an officer came along to break up the fun.

Just a moment, was grabbing food.

While I had greatly enjoyed my time aboard the little ship, I was just as glad to finally have dry land back in my vision, there was only so much you could do to pass the time aboard a ship, and quite frankly I was getting a bit sore of slithering across rough wooden decking, so it was to my great relief that we finally arrived in port. While the town looked interesting, a trading town taking in wares from a dozen others, I unfortunately had no time to visit it, as a rather rough looking human male was waiting at the gangplank.

“So you’re Solaron?” He growled when I got onto the pier. He was a stocky fellow, arms like tree trunks, hair growing out of the top and bottom of his head, each tied into a hexagram like braid. He wore leather armor with a bit of chainmail thrown in, and had a large axe slung at his side. He reminded me a bit of the bear creatures I sometimes saw in carnivals. Though I imagined those creatures had to smell more appealing than he did.

“Yes I am.” I said, trying to breath as little as possible. “And who might you be?”

“Gramul” He barks. “Chief Burgel sent me to fetch you.”

“I don’t suppose I could visit the shops first?” I ask. I had little money, but I always enjoyed browsing.

“No.” He growled, “Shouldn’t keep the chief waiting, let’s move.”

He walked off the pier and I followed to where a pair of horses were tethered.

Oh yes. Horses.


Sorry for the wait.

Now I have nothing against horses themselves, they’re quite stunning creatures in their own right. Strong and swift and capable of great endurance, there just seemed to be something which connected them deeply with nature itself, as though they had sprung straight from the very grass they trod upon. So no, I had no issues with horses themselves, it is when you ask me to ride one of them that the problems begin.

To start, horses are not particularly fond of reptiles. They seem to think that the natural state of anything with scales is a fine paste on the bottom of their hooves and if they see a reptile still moving they will attempt to rectify this error. It took some firm handling from Gramul and a bag of feed to convince the animal that I was not about to try and kill it before it would even let me get near without attempting to take my head off. And then we move onto the wonders of the saddle. The saddle is a fine tool for a rider, perfected over the course of centuries to allow a rider to ride in ease and comfort, and maintain good balance. However, I lacked something the saddle designer had assumed the rider would possess, namely legs.

After some rather embarrassing fumbling I found that the only way I could ride the creature was to wrap myself around its abdomen and hang onto my own tail, a rather uncomfortable position as I am sure you can imagine. So it was thus that I took my first journey into the great wild wilderness, bouncing along on a horse which didn’t particularly like me, hanging onto my own tail for dear life.

Not that the journey was entirely unpleasant. I got used to the uncomfortable method of travel after a while and started to take in my surroundings. Trees, birds, animals of all kinds, every bit of it was new and interesting, and as my guide was not exactly a stunning conversationalist, I spent most of my time looking out into the woods as I bounced along. After a little while I started to feel a bit, off about things, something not quite right. It wasn’t until the third day I realized why. The air here was so much drier than what I was used to, having spent my time in a humid jungle, I found the dry air a bit difficult to adjust to for a while.

Eventually, after about four days of uncomfortable travel, I finally saw our destination ahead of us. I was, a little less than impressed. We slowed down as we entered the clearing, and I saw the remains of what had once been a town, long destroyed by some kind of fire it would seem, the charred remains of buildings all but worn down to nothingness by the passage of time. Ahead of us rose the only building left standing in the entire town, the faded lettering over the door proudly proclaiming it the city library.

It had obviously seen better days, though it seemed to be holding up well enough. The bandits of Burgel’s clan had evidently taken this over as their base of operations, with a cook fire burning outside and some more horses tied up near the door, a few rickety lean-to shelters built up against the walls.

Gramul dropped off his horse, as did I, happily flopping onto the ground before wearily drawing myself up, my guide taking the horses over to a post and tying them up.

“Come on!” Barked Gramul, need to introduce you to the chief.”
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I like you. Keep posting here.
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I demand more. This is the best execution of a character concept I have ever come across.
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Chief Burgel was, if anything, a magnification of his men. Loud, smelly, crude and built like an angry oak tree, he sat upon a makeshift throne inside the library, his men gathered around him. I suspected there might have been a little troll blood in his ancestry, though that was only a theory, I felt no desire to voice it in the open court.

“So, you’re the new whelp I get to take care of.” He says, leaning forward on his ‘throne’.

“I am indeed.” I say, nodding to show my enthusiasm.

I did not like the grin which drew over Bergel’s face. It was the kind of grin a tiger makes when it is tired of playing with its food.

“My father sent me here to learn, he hopes that…”

“You father isn’t here whelp, I am. In this place I am king, I am the only power you need to worry about, and I will say what happens and who does what. Now you are not here for any schooling, you are here to work and you will work for as long as I say so. Now do you understand that whelp?”

I nod, trying to remain diplomatic. “I understand perfectly.” What had I gotten into now?

Stop it, you're going to make me blush.

I'm glad you like it and appreciate your comments, they help me remain enthusiastic about the writing.

It seemed that the work Burgel had mentioned was not sword training or raiding as I would have anticipated. Rather it seemed that I was to do whatever menial labor the bandits deemed below their attention. I wrapped my precious saber in my traveling cloak and hid it deep in the library, not trusting these ruffians around so fine a weapon. In fact I stored all my clothes away back there, Yuan Ti usually only donning garb for ceremonial or practical reasons, and scales were far easier to wash clean than cloth.

Thus began my life amongst the bandits, cooking, cleaning, slaughtering pigs and milking cows. It was dirty drudging work, done without pay or thanks, and it bore heavily upon me. The call to adventure I heard in the rushing sea wind seemed so very distant now I thought, as I carried a tray of roast pork out to the bandits dining table. They were banging their knives on the table, singing bawdy songs about battle, plunder and wenches, though I tried to block out some of the more specific descriptions. These brutes seemed to subsist upon nothing more than brutality and beer, both of which they demanded in great quantities.

I hid myself away from them whenever I could, to have a little time to myself and to avoid being saddled with the manual task of the moment. I passed the time by practicing my saber forms in darkened rooms and upon the roof at night, and looking through the dusty bookshelves of the library. Most of the books were long gone, likely destroyed by the neglect of time or sold off by the bandits, who I doubted cold read at all. These sojourns through the quiet halls were often disappointing, with what few books remained often being illegible, or on completely uninteresting subjects.

It seemed the only company I cared to keep for the longest time was my old stuffed dragon who, despite being a less than fantastic conversationalist, at least never shouted for me to put the soup on, or threw an empty mug at me for amusement. But it was on one of these searches for amusement that I found the one thing which would seem to be my salvation from the live I had been consigned to.

I was searching for intact books one night after the bandits had gone to bed when I happened upon it. It had been knocked down and pushed to the back of a shelf, covered in other half rotten books, so perhaps that was why the bandits had missed it when they ransacked the place. I was pushing through the pile of damp paper and bindings when I saw the glint of metal in the pile. I quickly pushed the ruined books aside and took hold of the object, pulling it free of the detritus of the years.

It was also a book, though not like any I had laid eyes on before. Its binding was not cloth or leather, but metal, large brass hinges on the spine, and a little latch over the pages. The actual book was bound in what seemed to be canvas, though it was very dusty and dirty. My prize in hand, I slithered excitedly back to the little lair I had set up for myself, lighting a few candles to get a better look at the tome in my hands.

With a little rubbing from a cloth the dust of the ages came away easily, leaving the great book looking as new as the day it had been bound. In a little circular recess on the cover was a painted picture of a human male in an impressive set of plate armor, his hands resting on a pair of swords sheathed at his belt. He had a neatly trimmed black beard, and short black hair, and wore an easy smile. The title of the book flashed in the candle light. “Dreams of Grand Adventures” It said across the top, the text on the bottom saying, “A collection of tales of heroes, villains, monster and myth.”

My hand trembling with excitement, I undid the latch and opened the book.

Just give me a moment, archiving for the enjoyment of future readers.

Are you planning on making this a full-on novel?

My body is not ready for the story of Solaron, reptilian bard.

How does this seem for an archive description?

"The story of an incredibly naive and friendly Yuan Ti on his path to becoming a bard. Seen here are our young hero's early days, and the start of his path to adventure!"

I will keep writing whenever I have the time.

It will continue until the story is finished or I am unable to write anymore.

Just the first sentence would be good. Along with "part 1" or "Solaron's story begins."


Tags: Solaron, snake man, yuan ti, story time, writefaggotry.

also, bard

Archive complete!


On with the epic tale of the serpent bard!

The book is written on solid parchment, beautiful calligraphy unmarred by age or wear. The inside cover bore an image of two crossed swords over a shield, a knights helmet placed over the swords, a repeat of the title in proud lettering. I was a bit surprised at a lack of a table of contents, though I planned on reading the book from the beginning through to the end so it didn’t perturb me greatly. I turned the page and looked at the first real page of the book. I have to admit I was surprised, for looking back out at me, familiar avian mask perched on his head, was the Falcon.

I quickly found that the first story in the book was a retelling of the Falcon’s adventures, here presented as a hero rather than a villain. I read late into the night and on into the morning, devouring the stories of dashing heroism, hairs breadth escapes, and noble bravery. He saved princesses, snuck through masquerades in his own mask, and eventually battled a Yuan Ti sorcerer come to topple a kingdom.

Every few pages there would be a large illustration along the side of one of the pages, detailing an important scene in warm colors. Each page was filled with adventure and intrigue, and I found myself carried away. I could not say at what point I drifted off to sleep, but I know that my dreams were filled with adventure and heroism, of fair maidens in towers and cackling wizards. Such a shame my dreams had to end with the dawn.

Anyone still here?
Yup, I just don't have anything clever to say or add.

After that I found my ordeal with the bandits easier to bear. True my waking hours were filled with drudgery and toil, dirty smelly brutes clamoring for more food, more beer, or occasionally for me to sing for their amusement. But once my daily tasks were done and the bandits started to pass into their nightly drunken stupor, my evening ritual began. I would head down to the creek and wash myself off, then rush back to my lair in the library to continue reading.

What did I care that my every day was filled with manual labor at the whims of smelly brutes? Every night I was fighting dragons and ousting usurper kings from the throne. Sometimes I would dance about my room saber in hand, acting out the scenes, doing voice work and costumes for an imaginary audience. One night I tracked down a notorious assassin, another night I battled a dragon, my old stuffed dragon standing in for the real one with his shadow cast upon the wall.

Sometimes I would get really lucky, and the bandits would run off on their latest raid or headed out for a night on the town to spend their ill-gotten gains. Those days I would be left alone, with only my imagination as company, truly the only company I desired in those days. This state of affairs continued for several months more or less uninterrupted, each day blending into the next. Then one day, Chief Burgel called all the bandits to a meeting, something big was going down.
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keep it up, OP

I've got to use this guy as an NPC in a campaign some day.

Will do, and I'm glad some poor group of players out there will be swept away by the rampant enthusiasm of Solaron. To ADVENTURE!

On the sole condition that you post the story of what happens if it is sufficiently humorous.

The chief had called his war council in the main chamber, his various strongmen arranged around his big chair. The scene reminded me incongruously of a royal hall, an unshaved king and his threadbare nobles holding court in a run-down hovel, surrounded by ruined splendor. The ‘king’ grabbed a goblet of mead off the tray I was carrying and leaned in over a map.

“All right, listen up lads because I’m not going over this again. This is the big one, we are about to go from nobodies, to the top of the list. After this job it is going to be goodbye rags and rats, and hello gold and luxury.”

His men hoot and cheer, bashing fists upon the table. He goes on and on about the caravan of some great merchant, going over guard strength and tactics. If I heard correctly over the grumbling and shouts for more beer, they were going to sit in ambush to attack the convoy when it passed through a narrow ravine. Good luck to them, I thought. If this convoy was anything like the kind of trade convoys I used to see back home they would need all the luck they could get to come out alive, let alone getting any treasure.

I hate to say it, but I think I am done for the night. Rest assured that I shall continue the story of Solaron at the earliest opportunity, either in this thread or the next.

Thank you all for reading, I will hang around for a little bit in case anyone wants to talk, if not then I will see you around.
fantastic and awesome! will be waiting with baited breath.

We need drawfags for this.

None of this seemed to deter them though, as they continued going over their scheme to seize wealth and power at sword point. The caravan would be reaching the ambush point in three days’ time, so they would have to set out in the early morning to be able to set up in time. Burgel also wanted all hands on deck for this raid, so I would be all alone in the library. That at least got me excited, and it was with a light heart that I finished serving the preemptive victory feast and retired to bed, cracking open my book for a few hours reading by the candlelight.

The bandits gave me a terse goodbye when they left in the morning, telling me to keep the animals in order and be ready for their return. Presumably they would want some form of victory feast when they got back, so I would likely have to prepare that more or less on my own, but before that I would have several days completely to myself to look forwards to. The bandits grabbed all their horses and gear and rode off into the distance, off to face whatever challenges awaited them and claim their prize.

I waited by the main door until they were out of sight, before turning back into the library, massive grin on my face. It would be a week before they got back, and in that time I would have the library all to myself. This was a rare treat, no real responsibilities or orders, just me all alone with my imagination for company. The first day I simply rested, stretched out on the roof with my book to bask in the sun all day. The second day I raced through the halls, saber in hand, pretending I was defending a castle from invaders. The third day I spent down by the creek swimming and basking in the sun. The fourth day I amused myself by sitting in Burgel’s rickety throne, barking orders at invisible guards, and drinking entirely too much mead.


Posting a bit before I leave for work.

The fifth day I awoke slumped over Gramul’s throne with a splitting headache, and went back to my lair to recover, that day wasn’t so much fun. The sixth day I went back to the rooftop to read, and keep an eye out for the return of the bandits, they were unlikely to be forgiving if they saw me off having fun rather than watching the camp. The sun crawls its way across the sky before finally setting. The bandits to not return. I decide to spend the seventh day in much the same way, glancing up from my book every few minutes, expecting each time to see the war band riding home triumphant, but my luck is still holding. The eighth day I spend down by the creek again.

By the ninth day I am really starting to wonder. It was a two day trip out, and they were taking one day to prepare for their ambush. So by my calculations it should have taken them about five days to get out and get back, so what was keeping them? Perhaps they had decided to spend some time in a town somewhere, to spend their loot, someplace with more appropriate entertainment than a rundown library in the woods. Solaron hoped they didn’t spend everything they had taken on wine and dances, they would be in a foul mood when they came back to realize they had squandered their ticket to glory and comfort.

By the eleventh day I was really starting to wonder. Surely they weren’t planning to spend a week running rampant in some town somewhere? Burgel was no genius but even he knew that you couldn’t have a bunch of rowdy bandits running about a town for five or so days without attracting the kind of attention he didn’t want. It was on the thirteenth day I started to wonder if they were ever coming back. Perhaps they had decided to run off to a life of luxury on their ill-gotten gains and thought me not important enough to come back for. Perhaps they had always planned to leave me behind, and telling him they were coming back was their kind of sick joke. Well if that was a joke then I was certainly laughing, at them if they thought that the prospect of never seeing them again in any way worried me.

Going to work soon, can't post more right now. I will try to write more later today when I get back from work. If this thread is still up I will do it here, or start a new thread if that is needed.

See you around!
I recall the first appearance of Solaron. I am delighted to read through issue zero of his adventures! Please OP, tell us more. We the unwashed masses clamor for your bardic tales of glory!
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I just started reading and I already like you.
I think you sound like an okay guy.
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Clever girl (or lad.... yeah).
bumpin this
I like his style
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No need to bump so quickly, /tg/'s plenty slow enough that once every few hours will keep the thread going.

That said; eagerly awaiting more, OP.
you've injected a sense of character and humour effortlessly in Solaron's inability to be 'human' and i for one adore both your writing style and the cadence of this story thus far, please write more, and more, and more, and post it all on /tg/
well done anon
well done.
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Let the story continue.
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It begins again.
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I thought you would never return

Well I have to work for eight hours a day building a road, so I couldn't write then. I just got home ten minutes ago.

And I would just like to say that all the responses and people keeping this thread alive for me is intensely heartwarming.

Thank you all.

More story coming as fast as I can write it.
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let the storytime continue!

It was two more days before I started to wonder as to other possibilities. What if they hadn’t chosen not to come back? What if they were unable to come back? What if the raid had gone as badly as I jokingly predicted and they all got themselves captured or killed? Looking back, I feel no guilt to say that I was thrilled at the prospect. Never again would I have to fetch a rack of lamb or tray of mead, or throw the bones away or do the washing. I would never be clubbed behind the ear by Chief Burgel for not moving fast enough, or dodge a rock or goblet as a bandit guffawed in amusement. So yes, I found the idea that they had gone and gotten themselves killed over their own greed rather heartening.

So in light of my newfound freedom, I decided a celebration was in order. I roasted a side of lamb over the fire and set up a keg of mead by Burgel’s throne. No, that wasn’t right, it was my throne now. I sat in the great hall, lit by braziers as I read late into the night, hooting and roaring as I read though my book. The scenes I read perhaps didn’t deserve the laughter, but there is something about knowing nobody will hear you no matter how loud you are which seems to drive you to make as much noise as possible. For so long I had scurried in shadows and tried to avoid attention, that now shouting and laughing upon the throne of my tormentor carried a certain taboo thrill.

When I had eaten and drunk my fill of the bandits stocks, I slithered and leapt through the halls of the library. This time I imagined I was storming the castle of a hated enemy, driving a foul king from his throne and taking his crown for myself. Then, my long day done, I decided it was time to retire to the king’s chambers. With a little heaving I dragged Burgel’s heap of bedding out of his room and replaced it with my own nest, piled atop every cushion and pillow I could find. I cemented my rule over my new kingdom by sleeping in the Chief’s quarters, surrounded by the broken finery of the bandit lord. I curled up on my bed, in my room, in my library, and let out a contented groan. Between the mead and my full belly, I drifted off to sleep soon enough.

It was good to be the king.
i sense foreboding
and am screenlocked.

The next few days were spent performing increasingly ridiculous feats in my new hall. I danced and cavorted, shouted and raved, or simply lounged by the fireplace and read. For all my life I had lived under someone else’s thumb. First it was my father, then it was Burgel, each of them restraining and controlling me in one form or another. But now my chains had finally been broken, the heavy weight of social and familial responsibility finally cast off, and it felt so very good. I had no expectations, no responsibilities, I was beholden to none but myself. I was at last unfettered, and reveled in it.

But, I admit, one can only rely upon the thrill of breaking long established rules to keep one entertained for so long. Having a full belly for the first time in recent memory was nice, but three straight days of feasting began to put me off my appetite. There were only so many times I could wander the halls screaming insults at the missing bandits before it failed to put a smile on my face. And while the experiment of sticking my head in a barrel of mead and drinking my way out was incredibly fun in and of itself, the subsequent day and a half of splitting headache and nausea was in no way worth it.

To put it simply, I was growing bored with my little kingdom, and it had only been a week since I had crowned myself king. I began to wonder about the future of my life, was this all that I had to look forward to? How foolish my antics seemed now, and I was seized with the sudden fear that the bandits would return after all to find their home in ruins, me squatting on the throne. Well, I thought, no matter what happened, I still had my book.

I settled down after that, reading through the massive tome by the firelight, page after page after page. I let the tales of adventure and heroism take me away from my beggar kingdom, to a place where life mattered, where brave men and women lead lives of meaning and purpose. It seemed so much better than to simply squat here in a collapsing ruin, desperately in search of anything to occupy my time. One night, after reading part way through a story of dwarves, halflings and a dragon, I closed the book and leaned back on my couch, groaning to myself. Was this it? Was this all that my life was going to be now? Had I escaped the bondage I had endured only to rot here, living vicariously through stories of adventure and action when my own life was so frightfully dull? I was sure I was meant for more than this, that it could, indeed should be me out there, leading a life of adventure and mystery.

It should be me battling dragons and rescuing maidens from towers. It should be me whom a desperate king comes to with a secret mission to save the kingdom. It should be me battling foul necromancers in darkened crypts to safeguard a city. It should be me sneaking into an orc camp to rescue a bunch of prisoners. And why shouldn’t it be me? I had my wits and I had a good sword, a lot of heroes got by on a lot less and seemed to come out on top! Why, the only thing stopping me was…

My train of thought ground to a halt at that simple statement. The only thing stopping me was… I put some more thought to that. A grin quirked at the corner of my mouth, slowly widening to a full grin. I began to laugh, a slow chuckle at first but it quickly built to a loud cackle. I raised myself up as high as my tail would go, arms spread wide, laughing. I had been a fool, a right fool indeed.
That is one hugeass book.
Or he's a slow reader.

Or it's
or he likes the stories enough to reread them over and over
true that,
also he did call it a tomb, and it was clasped by metal, making me think it's probably massive, like bible massive, and would hence take a fair while to read.
also, lol to the hobbit reference.

I moved quick, taking a quick inventory of the stores. I grabbed some food and drink that would not spoil on a long journey, mostly smoked and jerked meat and cheese. I grabbed a patched and darned backpack and started packing it up, tying on some water skins and my bedroll. I filled my purse with as many coins as I could find, though the bandits had a habit of always carrying their wealth with them to discourage thievery. I packed for a few more hours, going over a list of everything I could imagine I would need, before settling down to bed in my room one more time. I would have a big day ahead of me.

I woke with the dawn, and after taking a dip in the creek came back to the library, ready to face the day. I donned my traveling coat, threw on my backpack and clipped my saber to my belt. I ate one last breakfast feast before slithering out the front door. I got a few dozen feet before I stopped. The road ahead of me stretched off into the woods, the winding path vanishing in the morning mist. I glanced around, half expecting Burgel and his bandit horde to return and awake me from this mad dream of mine, though nothing happened.

I looked up at the decrepit ruin rising behind me. It wasn’t much, but it had been my home for the past several months, and I felt a little trepidation at leaving it. But, I thought, what did I have to look forward to here? That’s just it, I knew what was to come here, more days of lounging around trying to entertain myself, constantly fearing the return of my tormentors. I looked down the road again. I knew not what awaited me down that path, I did not know where it would carry me or what would happen along the way. What glorious destiny or cruel fate awaited me, I could not tell.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true, I did know one thing awaited me down that path. I felt it sing in my very soul, making my limbs as light as the clouds. Oh yes, I knew what awaited me very well. I drew my saber and pointed down the winding road ahead of me.

“ADVENTURE!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, and launched off down the path.
After a long and shitty day at work, this is exactly what I was hoping to see.

Onward, spin us the tail of Solaron!
This guy is a fantastic fella isn't he?

He certainly tries.


I'm glad you like reading it as much as I like writing it.

I found my second trip through these woods much more enjoyable than my previous journey, now that I was free to move at my own pace rather than clinging desperately to a horse. Now I was free to enjoy the sights sounds and smells of the jungle as I willed, slithering along the side of the path, soaking in the singing of birds and calls of animals. I gulped down lunch as I went, the long hours sliding by as I went on. My months of toil and previous training had left me rather fit, and my joy at finally being out on my own kept me from feeling any tiredness as I traveled the long road.

That night I pitched camp in the nearby trees and rested for the night, before setting off again in the morning. The second day passed much the same as the first, as did the one which followed that. I went along the center of the path, soaking in the sun and breathing deep of the spring air. Everywhere was the smell of flowers in early bloom. Then, one afternoon, the wind shifted, and I stopped in my tracks. I raised my snout to the wind and breathed in deep, trying to catch the scent again.

Yes, there it was. I knew that scent on the breeze. It was the scent of humans, and not that far from here. I had not had any company but the bandits for months now and certainly desired some company, I was beginning to feel lonely on the open road by myself. I slithered eagerly forwards, letting the scent guide me, they were getting closer I could tell, a small party at least. Then I heard a high pitched shriek, a cry of fear.
this shit had better go on the wiki

There's already a suptg archive done, I am not experienced in editing or creating wiki, so someone else would have to help me in creating a 1d4chan entry.

Then I saw them, three humans chasing after another who was a few feet ahead of them. The three pursuers were of a kind I knew well enough, dirty men with raggedy beards and crude weapons, bandits without a doubt. The human they were chasing was a much different matter entirely, I had never seen anything quite like this one before. This human wore clothes that stretched to its feet, though it was not a coat like mine, and it had long yellow hair. I silently cursed myself, it was female, of course it fit all the descriptions I had ever read.

Her three pursuers were gaining on her, and the group was almost to my position. Suddenly, the female tripped on the hem of her long dress and toppled to the ground, shrieking. Her pursuers laughed and rushed over, one grabbing the shrieking female by her arm.

Then, their laughter quieted and they turned to look into the woods when they heard the slow grind of a sword being pulled from its scabbard.

“Unhand her.” I say. “Now.”
it's a completely pointless snipe on my part, and don't take it the wrong way, since i'm thoroughly enjoying the read, but be wary of past and current tenses, it's sort of throwing off my immersion in the story since i'm not really sure if we're in the past in present at the mo.
no biggy of course, since your writing it up on /tg/ perfection isn't expected. story is still lovely so please keep it up anon!

I know I've been switching around a bit, I shall try to stick to one or the other from now on, I just lose track of where I am sometimes.
haha completely understandable man
in many ways actually i suppose the interchanging between the tenses adds an element of 'im telling you the story of my life around a camp fire' kind of thing, which works especially well when imagining Solaron telling the story, since his overflowing enthusiasm would likely lead him to overlook things like tenses haha.

The three bandits ready their weapons, swords and clubs. Two of them look into the woods warily, the third wrestling with the struggling female.

“Check it out, I’ve got the girl.” Says the apparent leader, and the two bandits come into the tree line after me. They crash through the brush like wild oxen, trampling bushes and cracking branches underfoot. I chuckle, just loud enough for them to hear, causing them to whip around searching for me.

“It is not wise to harm a lady.” I say, “Especially when one like me is around.”

They think they have me, but I dart out of sight just at the last moment.

“Where are you?” Shouts one in aggravation.

“Right in front of you.” I whisper.

They tense up and raise their weapons, peering into the misty foliage.

Then I leap up behind them and bash one over the head with the hilt of my saber.

“HA!” I laugh, “GOTCHA!”

The unconscious bandit’s companion whirls around and swings at me, a clumsy strike which I parry. I lash out at him and cut his arm, blood trickling onto his sleeve. He shouts angrily and slashes again, I dodge just in time to keep the singing blade from hitting me, and drip low, slashing at his ankles. He dodges my strike, but the dodge puts him off balance, and I put the pressure on, ducking and weaving, attacking from every possible angle. Finally he makes a mistake and overextends his guard, and I slash down on his arm, forcing him to drop the sword with a howl. I leave the wounded bandit to his own devices and turn back towards the road.

When I get there I see the bandit has tied the female up, and is about to carry her off.

“Let her go.” I say, and he turns to look for me.

I like to think I cut a rather dashing figure then, half in shadow, my coat billowing in the breeze, sabre reflecting the light of the afternoon sun.

“Come and show yourself!” The bandit spits. “Unless you are too afraid to face me like a man!”

Who am I to turn down such a challenge?

I slither out into the light, sabre held in a low guard, and I see a light of fear in the bandit’s eyes. He must realize now that he faces not some mere traveler, but a true swordsman. I raise my saber to point right at him.

“Let her go!” I say again, “Or be prepared to face me!”

The female shrieks and quivers, the bandit dropping her to put both hands on his large sword, swinging it high. He spits a challenge and charges.

“So be it!” I shout, “Have at thee!”
I am absolutely loving the mental image I have right now of this scene. I'm chuckling at my laptop like a loon
oh the suspense

He rushes me like a charging bull, swinging his sword down at me overhand. I coil up and launch myself to the side, slashing at his exposed flank. If I hit him he doesn’t show it, turning to chop at me again. I turn his strike with the flat of my blade and stab at him, though he batters it aside. He is not a bad swordsman, and his sheer size and strength hold me back. But I have a crucial advantage, which helps keep the pressure on.

This bandit is used to fighting humans, used to battling opponents who walk on two legs. There are certain patters of movement, of attack and defense that the position of feet allow for and promote. I, naturally being free of such patterns, continue to come at him from unconventional angles, keeping him off balance. I coil up and spring, drop low and slither away, twist and spin, feint with the sword and snap with my tail. Once he pushes my saber aside and moves in beyond my guard, but I lunge at him mouth wide, he flinches back as my snapping fangs close inches from his face.

He presses the attack again, and I drop low, circling around him. He steps forwards to attack, but I smack the back of his knee with my tail, dropping his leg. He stumbles, starts to rise, but I slither in past his sword. I slash, turn about, rise and then reverse my grip and drive my saber back into his chest. The bandit’s sword drops to the ground after a moment, his hand going limp, and I pull forward letting him fall to the ground.

I look down at my saber dripping with blood, and try to flick it off. That gets most the blood off of it but there is still some on the blade. I’ll have to wipe it off with something. I turn around intent on using the bandits shirt, and freeze in my track. The bandit is lying very still on his face, a little bloodstain on the back of his shirt from where my sword pierced him. My hand trembles for a moment, and my breath catches, but I close my eyes and focus. He was a bandit, a violent killer who makes his profit on the suffering of others. If I had not killed him he would have killed me, and then hurt many others in his life. And that was not to mention the girl he held hostage.

Oh, speaking of which, I should probably go help her. She’s still lying on the ground where the bandit dropped her, bound and gagged. I wipe my sword of and return it to its scabbard, slithering over to her.

“Hey there.” I say gently, “I’ve got you now.” I say reaching out to untie her. “I’m going to take care of you.”

She trembles for a moment and goes limp, fainted. Poor thing, the excitement was just too much for her. I undo the ropes binding her and remover her gag. She is rather small, I notice, must not be as old as I had thought. Since she isn’t exactly able to talk right now, I pick her up and start heading back up the road from where the bandits chased her. I hadn’t passed any settlements along my travel so far, so her home must be further up ahead. I liberate the contents of the bandits purse and set off down the road. My first daring rescue, not a bad day at all.

I have been going for about twenty minutes when the female in my arm starts to stir. I slow my pace and look down at her, her eyes cracking open blearily. She’s probably still scared from her ordeal, so I decide to cheer her up as best I can. I grin widely down at her.

“Hey there.” I say as fully opens her eyes and looks at me.

She starts to kick and squirm, shrieking in fear.

“Hey, whoa there,” I say, trying to calm her down, “Easy now (oof).” She drives a knee into my gut, pushing the air from my lungs. “Okay now I know you’re (ouch) scared and probably far from (ack) home, but just (stop that!) calm down and I will try and get you back home!”

She keeps kicking and squirming, with me at quite a loss as what to do. I can’t just let her go, she could get into trouble again, and I was loath to let her leave my sight until I was sure she was safely home again, so I pressed on, trying to weather the blows as well as I am able. She must still be scared from the bandits, I have to show her that she’s going to be okay. I think for a few minutes, before it comes to me.

I take a deep breath, try not to wince as she beats her fists against my chest, and begin to sing.

It is an old song, one I have known for years. It tells of a weary wanderer who, after a voyage of many years finally returns home. I sing it in my native tongue, so she cannot understand the words, but even if you cannot understand the lyrics the tune is still a soothing one. After a minute or two of song she stops beating against me, and a few minutes after that she stops squirming altogether.

I put all my experience as an entertainer into the song, looping lyrics and warm choruses which often lulled me off to sleep, finally calming the struggling female in my arms. I end my song and smile down at her, though she flinches back a bit at the sight.

“Now isn’t that better?” I ask. No response.

“Now, if I put you down, do you promise not to run off?”

She doesn’t say anything, so I turn up my smile a bit, and finally she nods shyly. I bend over and set her on her feet. And she straightens her dress while avoiding my gaze.

“Now, you have nothing to worry about now.” I tell her in as reassuring a voice as I can manage. “I am going to make sure you get home safe and sound you hear me?”

She looks at her feet and doesn’t say anything. I inch closer and grin again.


“Okay.” She says quietly.

Well I got her to speak, so that’s something.

So, was anyone thinking of getting this up on 1d4chan? I have never edited wiki before and don't necessarily feel comfortable writing a description/review for my own work to get people to read it.

Anyone want to chime in?

“Great!” I say. “I’m sure we can get you home in time for dinner.” I raise up and start looking around the path with exaggerated confusion.

“Problem is I don’t know my way around these woods, so you’re going to have to lead us back there while I keep a lookout for more bad guys.” I raise a hand to shield my eyes while I pretend to stare off into the distance. “Think you can do that for me?”

“S-Sure.” She stammers.

“Great! Lead on then!”

She takes a few cautious steps, and I smile some encouragement, before she starts trotting along the side of the road, me alongside her. We travel in silence for a little ways, her munching on some cheese I gave her, I decide to strike up a conversation.
Random anon reporting in, I'm giving it a look but can't guarantee anything as of yet because I am also completely new to editing wikis.

“So, mind telling me why you were out by yourself in the woods?”

She seems to have warmed up a bit to me, and speaks up after a few seconds.

“I was playing with my friends. My parents always told us never to go deep into the woods, but I was chasing one of my friends and we got lost. We tried to ask those men for help, but they chased us. My friends ran into the woods, and then the men chased me.”

“Well your parents are pretty smart people.” I say, “It’s not very safe to be out in these woods all on your own.”

She looks up at me. “Aren’t you all alone?” she asks.

I smile. “Of course I’m not alone. I have you with me don’t I?”

I reach out my hand, and after a moment she takes it.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Linda.” She says.

“Well, you can call me Sol, Linda.”

She nods again. We are quiet for a few more minutes, then she speaks again.



“Could you sing that song again.”

“I would love to.”

You guys still here?

I am. I'm enjoying the story.
Yep. Plugging away at that wiki article. Please don't stop now, it feels like you're just about to get to a really good bit.
Yes, though I've just been lurking since I found the thread.


This is the best thing to see when browsing /tg/! Writefriendory of the first class! I am patiently waiting for more tales of adventure.

Cool, be sure to send me a link when you're done with the article, or need a suggestion or something.

Moving on in a moment.
Still here good sir. Do continue

Dammit, wrong screen name.

So it was, with somewhat lighter spirits that we continued on to Linda’s home. I could see it now, a little farming village in the distance.

“Linda, we’re almost there!” I say, trying to push her on. The little female is very tired though it seems. Understandable, after what an eventful day she’s had. I pick her up in my arms again as she dozes in and out of sleep, carrying her the last leg of our journey. The town is quite small indeed, cottages with thatched roofs surrounding a large central town hall. I slither over a bridge spanning a little creek and go into the town itself. While it is late evening, there are still a fair number of townsfolk about, surely one of them should be able to help me with the little female in my arms.

I hear someone shouting about something, and I perk up. I hear cries of alarm, and looking about at the villagers I see them running this way and that, dropping whatever they were holding, running inside houses and the inn, slamming the doors behind them.

“What’s going on?” I shout above the hubbub.

“Monster!” I hear someone shout, “In the town square! Call the guards!”

“What!” I shout, craning my head around, scanning the square. “Monster! Where?”

The ruckus has roused Linda, who starts to squirm in my arms again.

“What’s going on?” She asks sleepily.

“There’s a monster about.” I say, putting her down. “Stay behind me and I’ll keep you safe.”

I hold out an arm to guard her and draw my saber, twisting about to keep watch for whatever dangerous beast has sent the villagers flying in a panic.

There's rumbling and thunder at my house, if I suddenly stop posting it's because I lost power, not because I lost interest.

Still here, more to come in a moment, I just had to tuck my little sister into bed.
Waiting with bated breath, OP. Sol's sense of ADVENTURE is just so hilariously well-done, I applaud you.

The town square is well and truly deserted now, only the terrified eyes of the villagers peeking from windows to prove that this was not a ghost town. I keep my head twisting in every direction, constantly scenting the wind. Whatever it was, I couldn’t smell it, just me Linda and a lot of scared humans. I look into the shadows, keeping a weather eye out for something lurking there, whatever this thing was it was deciding to be very sneaky. Suddenly, Linda starts pulling away from me.

“Papa!” She shouts.

I turn to see a middle aged man holding a woodsman’s axe on the side of the town square. Linda is about to run over, but I grab her arm.

“Wait!” I hiss, “Whatever this thing is it might be waiting to pounce when we split up, I’ll take you over.”

I keep a tight grip on her arm as I start to cautiously slither over to her father, saber held aloft ready for action at a moment’s notice. I hear footfalls behind be and whirl about ready to face down any danger. Actually, I’m in luck, it seems I will not have to face whatever beast lurks in the shadows alone.

The town guard has arrived.


That's what makes him so much fun to write.
Wiki guy here; what do you want the article title to be? Just 'Solaron' or 'The Adventures of Solaron' or something else?

The tale of Solaron, same as the title of the page.

Tags should be the same as the archive.

Solaron, yuan ti, bard, story time, writefaggotry, snake man

And I forgot to add the actual title to the archive tags, so please add that as well.

I can't wait to see it, first time anyone's made a wiki page about something I made.


They’re well, not exactly the best organized or equipped fighters I’ve ever seen. Most of them are wearing leather armor that looks like it’s seen entirely too much wear, and their swords and bows are of rather poor quality. As backup goes it’s not what I had hoped for, but it will have to do. We are only a dozen feet or so from where Linda’s father stands.

“Let her go!” He shouts, axe clutched in white knuckles.

I look around one more time, and see the square to be clear of any obvious danger. She’s close enough now that she can run there really quickly, and I can cover her from here.

“Go Linda, run.” I say, giving her a gentle push.

Linda runs over into the waiting arms of her father, tears in his eyes. I grin at that, job well done. Now to deal with this monster business.

“It lost hold of her.” One of the guards says. “Kill it!”

They must have sighted the monster, and I turn around to ask where it is, just in time to see a guard aiming a bow straight at me.

I reflexively duck, listening to the arrow shoot over my head and streak off into the distance. I whip around, trying to get a look at what the guards are shooting at, but see nothing. Another Arrow whizzes right past my ear and I duck again.

“Whoa! Watch you aim!” I shout. I need to get out of here. I think to myself, these guards are such bad shots they’re liable to hit me in the darkness. The sword wielding guards rush out after me into the square as I slither away. They can’t possibly think I’m the monster can they? No that would be absurd, even backwoods guards like this couldn’t make that kind of mistake. I dodge a poorly aimed throwing axe and look back over my shoulder. I see Linda’s father carrying her to safety, the little female waving over his shoulder. I wave back before leaping into the creek and letting the current carry me away to safety. Hopefully the guards in the other towns are better than the ones here! They’re liable to kill a man if you’re not careful.

It could use some general paragraph layout editing and maybe a pretty picture or two, but it's serviceable enough for something made during the small hours of the night.

>first time anyone's made a wiki page about something I made.
I've been wanting to read this kind of story for so long I figure the least I can do is put it somewhere it can be easily found. Keep up the good work, eh?


But maybe the link at the bottom should take you to the archive page where you can chose the archived thread you want.



Since there should be more threads in the future, this will let readers chose where they want to go, rather than just being sent to the first page.
Done and done. Looking forward to reading more when I wake up!

Thanks, I was just on the phone with a friend, writing more soon hopefully.

Sorry for the wait, was on the phone, writing more now.

Also, feel free to chime in if you have any suggestions, or ideas for Solaron's future adventures.

He is going to have to realize that people don't like him eventually, though it will be a hard lesson to learn.

What would help him with that is some traveling companion. A lone snakeman is a wandering monster to be attacked on sight. A snakeman traveling with a priest or something... that would give people enough pause to not attack immediately.

You have given me an idea.

A very good idea.

I must write now.
I hope a necromancer steals your food Solaron

I dragged myself out of the creek a mile or so out of town, laying my gear out on the side of the creek, shaking the water out of my coat and hanging some of my gear up to dry. Well that was a bit odd, I thought to myself, I certainly hope that monster attacks are not common in that village, not with the skill level of those guards. A shame really, it would have been nice to have slept in a real bed again. Ah, but nobody ever said the life of a wandering adventurer was ever easy. I set up my bedroll beneath the boughs of an oak tree and settle in for the night.

The dawn breaks as it is wont to do, and I rise to greet it. After a quick breakfast of beef jerky I break camp and continue following the river. I remember from school that humans tend to build settlements along rivers, so if I follow this one far enough then I should find something. Logic, you see.

I continue along the river for most of the day, and my diligence is rewarded when I see some kind of structure up ahead. I rush up, hoping to find a town of some sort, but no such luck, only a wooden bridge spanning the river. Still, it’s proof that there is civilization of some kind out here, so I take it as a good sign. I pick a direction at random, and slither over the bridge, and off towards whatever awaits me beyond it.


Interesting idea...

I spend a night camped by the roadside before continuing on the next day. I begin to suspect that these roads are made with horse riding in mind, given the distances one must travel between towns. I slither along for hours without seeing anything more than the winding dirt road before me, no signs or homes, nothing do indicate anyone lives near here. I am just starting to wonder if I will ever find another sign of civilization, when I hear voices in the distance. I scent the wind, trying to identify the direction. Yes, humans indeed, up ahead of me a little ways. And horses if I am not mistaken.

I pick up the pace and head over to investigate. I drop low and slither along my belly, best not to startle them, humans are proving to be rather jumpy so far. I peer through a clump of grass at the group of humans out ahead of me. A wagon is stopped along the side of the road, a pair of horses pawing the ground with their hooves. The riders of the wagon have dismounted, three males, young adults if I am any judge. A fourth human is walking along the side of the road, he is dressed in a simple white robe, staff in hand, hood up over his head. He is facing away from me, walking along, when one of the young males tiptoes over and smacks him on the shoulder.

The robed human stumbles but gets back on his path, walking along as if nothing had happened, before another of the young males pokes him hard with a stick, which he and his felloes seem to find incredibly amusing. I have been known to play many a practical joke in my time, but this was taking things entirely too far. It was time to put a stop to this. I slither along the side of the road, hidden in the tree line until I am directly next to the ruffians and their victim.

I pull myself up, and speak.

“Leave the man alone.” I say, “I doubt he’s done anything to deserve the treatment you’re giving him.

The youths turn, one of them looking around.

“Oh?” He asks, “And who are you to spoil our sport?”

Sport eh? I clench a fist at that. I know what it’s like to be used for sport.

“Just a traveler who doesn’t want to see an old man abused by a bunch of thugs, now get back on your wagon and get out of here before I lose my patience.”

The talkative male, seemingly the leader, grins a very discomforting grin. “Oh yes, brave words indeed for someone who hides in shadow.” He pulls a knife from his belt and poses with it, his companions grinning conspiratorially. “Because it’s really my patience you should be worrying about.”

“That I doubt very much.” I say as I slither into the light, resting my hand lightly upon the hilt of my saber. The looks of confidence freeze on their faces, and they take a step back. “If you are not going to respect your elders at least respect your betters.”

They turn and vault into their wagon, yanking on the reigns and trundling off down the road and out of sight.

Sorry to say that this is it for the night.

I will try to post some more in the morning, and then after I get back from work. If this thread is still here I will post here, if not I will start a new one.

Thanks for reading, I will stick around for a little while in case anyone wants to comment.
I'm really hoping that the old man joins up with Sol. He deserves a buddy
Thank you for the story, I enjoyed it. Sorry for not offering any constructive criticism. Have a good night.

I will try to finish this scene in the morning.

Thanks for being here, I'm glad you liked it.

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