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File 125314101234.jpg - (27.31KB , 800x600 , desk.jpg )
45565 No. 45565 ID: f98e0b

You would not like it here.
Expand all images
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No. 45566 ID: 9e9b47

Does it smell like farts?
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No. 45567 ID: f98e0b
File 125314105361.jpg - (21.28KB , 800x600 , ddesk.jpg )
45567

The air is musty and oppressive. The dark hangs down with an intangible weight. The desk is in the center of the room, lit by a single guttural candle. He knows the sight well. It stirs regret in him, somewhere.
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No. 45568 ID: f98e0b
File 125314112222.jpg - (22.50KB , 800x600 , desk2.jpg )
45568

But not today. Today he strides to the desk with a sense of purpose. He has found the Missing Element at last. He sits. He ponders, but not for long. The words come to him, faster than they have before, ever. He begins.
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No. 45569 ID: f98e0b
File 125314119680.jpg - (41.29KB , 800x600 , 1.jpg )
45569

This is my twenty-first attempt to begin the story. My previous efforts lie scattered about like the rubble of civilization. This one is different, I know it.
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No. 45570 ID: f98e0b
File 125314127296.jpg - (77.17KB , 800x600 , 2.jpg )
45570

I have not been here long. For all my physical failures I am still young. But it feels as if I have been here already for a lifetime. A hundred times before have I paced the small grounds I am confined to, desperate for something so frustratingly intangible I can’t name it.
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No. 45571 ID: f98e0b
File 125314131781.jpg - (68.51KB , 800x600 , p2.jpg )
45571

A hundred times before I have tried to begin, but I failed utterly, as I always have.

This is different.
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No. 45572 ID: 4553b2

>>45570
Is the thing you are looking for... color?
>>
No. 45573 ID: f98e0b
File 125314137837.jpg - (68.43KB , 800x600 , p3.jpg )
45573

I have found you, my muse.

You are my spark and my guidance and I can do this now. I know it.
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No. 45575 ID: f98e0b
File 125314148887.jpg - (48.79KB , 800x600 , 3.jpg )
45575

So. Where to begin.
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No. 45577 ID: 8b09c5

>>45575
Write what you know.

But first, decide upon a genre. Pick a theme you want to convey or message to teach. Choose a point of view.
>>
No. 45582 ID: 4553b2

>But first, decide upon a genre. Pick a theme you want to convey or message to teach. Choose a point of view.

God damn you people are bad at questing. That's OUR JOB. Not his. We are the decision makers.

Genre: Adventure Comedy
Message: Everything has consequences
Point of View: Second Person
>>
No. 45583 ID: f98e0b
File 125314226382.jpg - (32.11KB , 800x600 , 4.jpg )
45583

>>45577
I will write what I know.

There were four of us once, and I knew them all well. I loved them.
>>
No. 45586 ID: 4553b2

>>45583
What happened to the other three?
>>
No. 45589 ID: 8b09c5

>>45582
God damn you're retarded.

Did you not read the intro? This guy obviously has a purpose. He's been through something, and we have to find out more before deciding on random shit.
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No. 45594 ID: f98e0b
File 125314290888.jpg - (66.82KB , 584x467 , 100.jpg )
45594

Stavros I met first. A veteran of the Fedenti and their once-glorious empire now toppled. His days of uniform and glorious war were behind him, but he was a proud man.

Alia and Galdo were to come later. They had within them fantastic abilites, ways they could bend reality to shape their whim and break the fundamental laws of the world. Stavros was a normal man with an old halberd and a shrewd mind. That he fought the longest, and without the fantastic abilities of his fellows, is a testament to the man's fantastic mortal bravery. I doubt any sort of magic could replace it.

He should not have met the end he did.
>>
No. 45595 ID: f98e0b
File 12531431797.jpg - (55.82KB , 587x499 , 0.jpg )
45595

Alia was the second. She was a northern warrior, from an arid, dead land. That such a one could be so full of life mystifies me, but the woman was like fire. She was in constant motion and radiated an energy that astounded me. She had cut her hair short as befits a warrior long ago, but she was quite beautiful, to me at least.

She told me once she loved me, and I loved her too.

I am sorry things happened as they did.
>>
No. 45598 ID: f98e0b
File 125314338291.jpg - (32.85KB , 636x480 , 50.jpg )
45598

Galdo the Harlequin was the third. He was mirthful, mysterious, and deadly. Quick to laugh and quick to wrath. He wove the mystical arts thick around himself, and I am sure he had the most raw power of us all. He was an enigmatic soul, with a mask of obsidian covering and obscuring his face. I never saw his face.

It pains me to think that I lost that chance with everything else.
>>
No. 45602 ID: f98e0b
File 125314450586.jpg - (57.73KB , 800x600 , 5.jpg )
45602

I will tell you of Stavros first, I think. He was, as I said, the first one I met, and he taught me a great many things, though I was a scholar and he a soldier. You would have liked him.

It was March. I was standing outside the walls of a Depeth town called Anchor. I was sketching a bird, as I recall. I do not remember why.
>>
No. 45608 ID: f98e0b
File 125314506844.jpg - (61.57KB , 800x600 , 6.jpg )
45608

The boy don't see me. He's too wrapped up looking at the crow or whatever on the tree.

Odd one. Must be a student of some kind.
>>
No. 45611 ID: ea9bdd

>>45608

You both seem to like birds. Strike up a conversation about them, perhaps?
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No. 45612 ID: f98e0b
File 12531462254.jpg - (61.29KB , 800x600 , 7.jpg )
45612

Now just when did I say I like birds?
I hate the fiddly things. Their shit leaves nasty stains, I tell you.

Like how they taste, though.
>>
No. 45613 ID: ea9bdd

>>45612

Well, assume the student likes birds more for their birdiness than their taste if he's looking at the crow. Crow tastes terrible.

That or he's really hungry.
>>
No. 45614 ID: 4553b2

>>45612
Ask him what he's staring at.
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No. 45623 ID: f98e0b
File 125314798857.jpg - (57.42KB , 800x600 , 8.jpg )
45623

His approach frightened away the subject of my drawing. I said nothing, for I knew not how to stand for myself. He had yet to teach me that.
>>45613
>>45614
"Wes Hall, bookworm," say I. "Isn't much good eating on crows, you know."

"GAH." says the boy, then "Oh. Um. Well you see, don't you know, I wasn't actually going to, er, eat it as it were so much as study its, um, you know, form and um, composition."
>>
No. 45633 ID: ea9bdd

>>45623

Why in the blazes would he want to do that?
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No. 45641 ID: f98e0b
File 125314921839.jpg - (56.24KB , 800x600 , 9.jpg )
45641

>>45633
Aye, you have the right of it. It does seem a mite silly that such a boy should be idly sketching birds on such a fine spring day, instead of braining other boys with sticks or whatever boys in theseabouts do. A strange place I find myself in.

"I take it you're a scribe, then, my bookish boy?" say I, for this seems most likely judging by his ink-stained fingers and his simple brown robe.

"Um. Yes. No. I mean, just an apprentice right now. And more a scholar than a scribe. So no. Um."
Shifty boy.
>>
No. 45643 ID: f98e0b
File 125314930813.jpg - (53.36KB , 800x600 , 9derp.jpg )
45643

(boy that sure was one slow bird huh)
>>
No. 45655 ID: ea9bdd

>>45641

Shifty? Well, either he's nervous or he's hiding something.
>>
No. 45661 ID: f98e0b
File 125315070975.jpg - (49.67KB , 800x600 , 10.jpg )
45661

Aye, well, he's right to be shifty if he's Depeth around me. The Fedenti Scourge, that's what they call me.
Or will, at any rate.

He does have the knowings of writing about him and a certain scholarly air, though. He can chronicle the siege of Anchor right enough.

"Walk with me, boy," he said, and trooped off down the dirt path toward the town. I still don't know why he chose me, but despite all that happened after I am grateful to him. I followed him to Anchor. What else was I to do?
>>
No. 45731 ID: ea9bdd

>>45661

Depeth?
>>
No. 45910 ID: f98e0b
File 125322151053.jpg - (48.72KB , 800x600 , 11.jpg )
45910

Perhaps some clarification is necessary at this point. In the new world we live in, there were at one time three empires vying for control of the land: The Depeth, the Fedenti, and the Huscaria. In the early days of exploration these three titans clashed numerous times, driving many of the old ways and aborigines out and into the hills. When the dust settled, the Fedenti had been smashed by a joint alliance between the other two. At the time I speak of, an uneasy peace reigned between the two. The Fedenti had been a proud, martial folk. It is unfortunate that they failed.

Stavros, for whatever reason, refused to lay down arms with his fellows in the army. He was, at this point, the last warrior of the Fedenti.


We pause on a mountain overlooking the town. The madman turns to me, hands me his polearm, and says, "Hold this. I'm to chat with the guards without ye. Wait for my okay to come down."
>>
No. 45925 ID: 4553b2

>>45910
"Um... okay?"
>>
No. 45933 ID: f98e0b
File 125322393352.jpg - (43.50KB , 800x600 , 12.jpg )
45933

>>45925
"Uhm, okay?" says the boy, and staggers under the weight of't. Heh.

I approach the gates and one of the guardsmen hails me.

"State yez name and business entrin' Anchor, please." says the one to the right, the leader mostabouts.

"Hem." says I, clearing the cobwebs from my throat, y'see. "I am Sergeant Stavros Peligos, of the Fedenti army, and I am here to besiege and take Anchor from the occupying Depeth."

"I... don't think yez can do that." says the leader, puzzled. "Is he allowed to say that, Buckley?"
>>
No. 45934 ID: f98e0b
File 125322402539.jpg - (40.01KB , 800x600 , 13.jpg )
45934

"OY. Bookworm!" calls the halberdier from below. "Lingers that guard up on the wall?"

I call back that indeed he does.

"All's well." I hear him say.
>>
No. 45935 ID: f98e0b
File 125322408913.jpg - (41.25KB , 800x600 , 14.jpg )
45935

This pronunciation quickly followed by two concussive cracks. They echo over the hills.

Didhejustshootthoseguys
>>
No. 45981 ID: f98e0b
File 125322814778.jpg - (76.23KB , 800x600 , 15.jpg )
45981

I rush down to where the shots were fired.

The soldier stands there with the smoking guns.

"My LEG," announces one of the guards. "You shot me in the LEG!"

"Aye, sorry about that." says the soldier. "I was aiming at your chest but you can never tell with these fiddly old flintlocks. Blasted things."

He looks up. "Greetings to you, bully bookworm. You're on time."
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No. 45985 ID: 9d41ab

Ask what the hell he thinks he's doing.
>>
No. 45997 ID: f98e0b
File 125322983282.jpg - (91.05KB , 800x600 , 16.jpg )
45997

>>45985
"What in the Eleven Hells are you doing?" I ask.

The soldier looks from his pistols to the guardsmen. "I'm besiegin' this Depeth city, what's it look like?"

"He shot me," says the shocked guardsman on the ground. "Shot me right in the leg. Shot Hamish and kilt him."

"Shut up. Methink he can see that," says the soldier. "Ye can come along, scribe, if you write all of it down in your little book thing. What say you? The name's Stavros, by the by."
>>
No. 46003 ID: 43d730

>>45997
My god, it's beardbeard.
>>
No. 46041 ID: 15f6d6

Tell him "sure." Ask him what he plans to do next.
>>
No. 46055 ID: 97b54b

>>46041

Well you certainly can't say no. I mean, he shoots people.
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No. 46071 ID: f98e0b
File 125323686132.jpg - (94.11KB , 800x600 , 17.jpg )
46071

>>46041
>>46055
"I...suppose so." I say.

"Excellent!" Stavros says, and gives me a slap on the back hard enough to jostle my glasses.

"What do you plan to do exactly?" I ask, readjusting them.

"Well, protocol at least from my days as a pikeman states as much as we're to capture the keep in the town and hang the Fedenti flag from its battlements. This town is mildly keepless, but there's a town hall with a cannon tower on it'll do well enough. Now then, writer lad, fetch my stick from yonder hill and we'll press in."
>>
No. 46433 ID: 9d41ab

Ask what he plans to do about the poor guy he shot in the leg. Ask how he plans to deal with the inevitable onslaught of guards/whatnot seeing as how he's just one guy and he's already fired his pistols.
>>
No. 46592 ID: f98e0b
File 125330872182.jpg - (72.03KB , 800x600 , 18.jpg )
46592

>>46433
As we walk through the doors, I ask him, "What are you going to do with that guard who was shot in the leg?"

Stavros considers it for a moment, then says, "Well, he's not going to move after us with that gimped leg of his. I suppose we'll leave well enough alone."

...I was thinking of medical assistance, but I keep my tongue. Instead I inquire, "What exactly is the plan now that you've discharged both pistols and there's still an entire garrison to go?"

"I hear no alarms raised at the moment," says Stavros. "P'raps we have the element of surprise still on our hands, despite the fireworks earlier. The third guard who stood 'pon the gate could fuck that up the arse, tho. Wonder what he's at."
>>
No. 46594 ID: 43d730

>>46592
Let him go first.
>>
No. 46601 ID: f98e0b
File 125331050255.jpg - (66.08KB , 800x600 , 19.jpg )
46601

>>46594
Stavros suddenly throws his arm out, sending me stumbling back against the wall.

The guard goes running directly into his outstretched spearhead and stops just in time to avoid self-impalement.
>>
No. 46606 ID: f98e0b
File 125331091322.jpg - (64.51KB , 800x600 , 20.jpg )
46606

"Town guard, eh?" says Stavros. "I was one once. Thankless job, I usually find. So why did you take it? The uniform? To make your parents proud o'you? Maybe ye truly want to do good in this fine town of Ankle or whatever.

"Well take a word of advice from an old pro. When the big damn heroes come in with an axe to grind, as t'were, you have yourself two choices. You can do as the governor says and charge me and die horribly one after the other, or you can do what I say--and hide."
>>
No. 46626 ID: 15f6d6

Pipe up and agree wholeheartedly. Make a badass face. Stavros is your new hero and you want to be like them.
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No. 46628 ID: f98e0b
File 125331281648.jpg - (177.20KB , 800x600 , anchor1.jpg )
46628

The guardsman flees out behind us through the gates. He screams similarly to how my youthful sister did once when I pulled her pigtails.

"Clever boy," says Stavros. "Now then. You know this place better than I do, Depethian. Where shall we to first? I'll of course want to swing by the town hall soon enough."

I have spent much of my life here, but mostly cloistered away in the Hall itself, attending to my duties an an apprentice. I know the more major landmarks, though.

1. is the Town Hall itself, which Stavros seems intent on conquering. For some reason.

2. is the Garrison Longhouse, where blades-for hire, brigands, and guardsmen alike live, drink, and train.

3. is the general store. We have no armory whose wares are available for public consumption, but perhaps we will find something of use there.

4. is the Wayman's Inn, the only tavern in town. A rowdy, jolly place, so I have heard. I haven't been.

5. would be Hogarth's Haberdashery, a place of some renown among the foppish folk of the area.

Where shall I lead him?
>>
No. 46629 ID: 15f6d6

The Inn. Let's see if we can't recruit some toughs to our cause.
>>
No. 46677 ID: efa41b

March straight up to the Town Hall and commence conquering. That approach has been working so far.
>>
No. 46728 ID: 476456

the longhouse since you may need more people to take down that town hall.
>>
No. 46759 ID: f98e0b
File 125332191597.jpg - (80.85KB , 800x600 , 21.jpg )
46759

>>46629
>>46728
"We could go to um. The longhouse? Or the inn?" I say. "You can't storm the town hall on your own."

>>46677
"Aye," says Stavros. "I could so storm the town hall on my own. And I wouldn't be alone anyway. Ye're coming with me, of course."

What

"Anyway," says Stavros, "I suppose if help is what we want, help is what we can get. Ye'll have to decide where we go to find it, tho."
>>
No. 46957 ID: 6665a0

>>46759
to the inn!
>>
No. 47051 ID: 15f6d6

Yes. Lets go to the inn.
>>
No. 47138 ID: efa41b

The Inn is on our way, and is less likely to be directly hostile to us.
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