One way I'm thinking about your suggestion for post rate -- we'd have to have everyone buying into this idea, because it's admittedly outside the norms for PbP, is to think of each post as a POV chapter like in a Game of the Thrones book -- you'd try to tell a little, self-contained episode; shorter than real chapter, but something between a post and an interlude (thinking of the interludes in Stormlight Archive). That'd, again, have to be worked out in terms of player agency so this is possible -- and you'd have to have some rules adjustments to accomodate that. But I think it'd work if we did a sort of round robin where everyone contributed in a specific order, so you'd have a couple weeks to work on your next section. Maybe there could be side chatter and worldbuilding going on around the official next POV section. I'm just brainstorming here.
Hey, hey, I'm interested in this sort of thing. As far as experience in pbp, well I'd say I have almost 8 years of experience playing. I got a feel of sorts in playing the platform, not like how I was used to when I first started but I'm somewhat competent with a few mistakes here and there.
I was thinking of making a wildfire druid, thinking their a worshipper of a fire/heat/sun God, also thinking their an animorph that's more of a trickster though I don't know which one would fit that personality. It's mostly just conning people and using various fursonas, ahem, personas, excuse me.
For those long and detailed post, uhm, I'm not sure if I got those in this site. But, I do have a pretty long one from a different site, here's the example:
Paige simply hums to herself at having made first purchase from the outside, though she stops herself as Mexha speaks to her in a disappointing tone, similar to how her grandma does it. Though the topic is probably one a rich aunt would say, "Ah, sorry, I'm just not used to buying a lot, my grandparents tend to be more conservative in their purchase." she says in her normal voice, but then caught herself as she realized she broke character for a bit,"Gah, I mean, oh, silly me, my tendency to collect books seem to have maneuvered my survivability skills. Next time, I won't hold back. I'll released the shopaholic within me and rub the stores dry, within reason." she says that last part in a whisper so that Mexha doesn't here it.
Once the service bot arrived, Paige gave it her kit but not before she took a picture of it, Woah, not only does this fair have the sci-fi theme down, they even have actual robots. she thought, but her previous theory started flashing back again and once more she started doubting her original thought. She then snapped out of her conflicting thoughts as Mexha just keeps talking about her very extensive and detailed backstory on elves, she even said that she was sixty, "Heh, bet you say that to make a lot of girls act jealous at your youth." she says, though she can't help feeling just a little bit jealous.
Thankfully the topic changed to Port, though the little hamster looks rather angry at the star elf, "Mmhmm, Port here is the most adorable creature in all of the galaxies I reckon. No one can compare to his fluffy physique. But it's best no to call him a pet, it hurts his ego. I like to call him my emotional support companion. For those tough nights in the slammer." she says as they head to another store which is impressive. It practically beats the clothes department her mother would take her by a mile.
Their were just so many choices to pick, some looked exotic and strange, others ridiculous but comfortable. The designs are just all over the place, it was a good thing that the person she's with is more of a fashionista expert than her otherwise she might have just picked a random piece of clothing from a bargain bin and look ridiculous. She then look towards Mexha, who in a flash is already on the aisles foraging some outfits, she even asked her to participate once she manages to wear the ones she chose, "Uhm, alright, I'll try my best. Though don't expect much." she says and waits for the first rows of outfits.
After a few minutes of searching for clothes, Paige was now wearing the first outfit, a baggy jacket with yoga pants, "Woah, I've never felt... So comfortable." she says, embarrassing the soft and fluffy exterior of the jacket's and yoga pant's design, "I bet if I fall right here, I'd just land softly like I landed on the softest bed." she says and does so, not suffering from any impact. Just a soft cushion on her body, "Hm, hm, hm, this is certainly a reliable piece of clothing. Even Port has given is certified approval." she says as she looks at her hamster that's snuggled under her jacket, "Buying this!"
She regretfully took out her first outfit and change into the second. It was a space pirate type of outfit and she felt shy wearing it. As she looked at her phone's camera, she looked cool and certainly fit her aesthetic but she wasn't sure if she was fit to wear something like this, "I don't know about this one, it's something that I don't usually wear..." she stopped herself as Mexha added a brooch on her hair. She looked at her phone and smiled a bit to see how cute and cool she looked, "Hah, forgot what I said. I think this fits me like a glove. Maybe I'll wear this for my first voyage across the stars itself." she says as she makes a pose, a flow of confidence surged thanks to that elf's gesture. For some reason, she thinks of Mexha as a good friend, even though she's somewhat older than her and they just met only moments ago.
Paige then switched second for third, and it was somewhat refreshing. It was a beautiful and vibrant dress that screamed adventure, "Hey, this one's not so bad. It's not a comfortable or imposing as the last too, but I feel like myself when I'm wearing something like this. Plus, these pockets are pretty nice, Port will certainly have some fun rummaging through these." she says, putting both her hands on her pockets.
It was now her turn to find some clothes for her to wear. She wasn't confident in her design choice but she might as well just for the fun of it. For next few minutes, Paige returns with her own stack of clothes, "Alright, I don't have much of an eye for fashion like you Mexha, but here are my top 3 picks." she says and pulls out her first outfit. It was a black jacket with orange linings and a pair of white shorts. She replaced her glasses with a holographic visor giving her a sort of cyberpunk kind of feel, "I call this one street casual. Downside is that I'm pretty sure these visors aren't a good substitute for my glasses, so I can't move around much." she says with a straight face but keeps her cool. It her a bit of a while to change back as she had a hard time stumbling around as she misplaced her glasses.
She manages to change to her second outfit which was revealed to be a skintight suit with a shade of blue. Paige is visibly blushing from wearing this outfit, "Uhm, I thought this outfit looked kind of cool and I saw a character wear something similar, so I thought I'd try it out. I wasn't expecting it to be... risque." she says, she remembered when she worn it, she wasn't expecting to suit to be so form fitted to her petite frame... and also somewhat tight around places. She shook her head on the thought and looked toward Mexha,"W-With this outfit I'm much more quicker and agile. Laser rifles and sword better wish that they hit me... It's just one small caveat, I'LL NEVER WEAR THIS IN PUBLIC." she screams and immediately runs back to the changing room out of embarrassment.
After that fiasco, Paige changed into her final outfit. She looked to have worn a simple white overcoat that looked similar to a uniform, accompanied with white pants and a gloves, "Heh, with this I was going for a space admiral kind of vibe. Behold, for I have found a way to make a disguise to fool my pursuers, all I need is a hat and I'm set." she says, on closer inspection it looks like the clothes she got this from was from the men's section. She certainly looked rather suave in her appearance, her confidence helps in that regard.
Not sure if that meets your demand, I don't usually write long post as of late unless it's a solo game. My posts tend to get real long when I make conversations though. Like this one below:
"Hmm, that makes sense, I'll at least try not to think about it much." Mulan says on the topic of the versions of herself. The soldier did not leave her eyes from Cass, but she too did not want to be hostile. She smiled as Cass decided to tell her a bit of the romantic options that her fellow comrades would have received if fate was a little bit more experimentative then her,"Huh? I've heard of this so-called Persephone before from my research of this world. I did not nor would even imagine Hades to have a lover, he looks too cranky as the saying goes." she says, though she looked toward Cass with surprise as she mentions her attraction towards him,"Ooh, I would have certainly expected Ariel and maybe Elsa to be 'shipped', as the internet coined it, but you. Is this what's called the bad boy trope? Frankly, I do not understand the appeal. Maybe it is the century gap, or my own concept of love, but I certainly can't see any sort of reason why any girl would go for him." she says in a gossiping tone, this is certainly a nice reprieve. Much better to the conversation they had moments ago,"Still, it is rather disappointing to her that Merida wasn't explored as often as I would have hoped. Though, I certainly agree with your pairing, I can certainly imagine how humorous her reaction would be, especially with Prince Charming. It would he an amusing circumstance to say the least." she says on the topic of Merida, but was surprised when Cass mentioned her own ship with Moana. She's met with the Polynesian girl before back in that Princess Slumber Party. She was certainly a girl choke full of adventures across the seas, though she doesn't know much about her then her stories she told, though Mushu certainly liked hanging out with her chicken,"... Ergh, so it seems that even in this day and age, woman still find me attractive." she says with a sigh,"That too is something I won't understand. I am thankful that they choose to not implement such programming. Otherwise I would feel bad for Kristoff if that ever happened." she says with a smirk, she then looks toward the door,"I believe we've left Rapunzel well enough alone, let us visit her again." she says, about to head back to Medbay to see what progress she made.
Even with that, I know it's not that big enough to be long post material. But who knows, this campaign sounds like it'll be my chance to go super detailed like never before, I think.
Ok, I wasn't thinking of going too far out of the box in regards to races. What do you think about dhampir? They can pretty much fit in any world, old or modern, and the race is pretty tame compared to pathfinder version.
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Leaning against the wall, watching the others rush by him, he grins. "Go ahead, go get that treasure that's laying there. Be more for me after you die."
Hey, hey, I'm interested in this sort of thing. As far as experience in pbp, well I'd say I have almost 8 years of experience playing. I got a feel of sorts in playing the platform, not like how I was used to when I first started but I'm somewhat competent with a few mistakes here and there.
I was thinking of making a wildfire druid, thinking their a worshipper of a fire/heat/sun God, also thinking their an animorph that's more of a trickster though I don't know which one would fit that personality. It's mostly just conning people and using various fursonas, ahem, personas, excuse me.
For those long and detailed post, uhm, I'm not sure if I got those in this site. But, I do have a pretty long one from a different site, here's the example:
Paige simply hums to herself at having made first purchase from the outside, though she stops herself as Mexha speaks to her in a disappointing tone, similar to how her grandma does it. Though the topic is probably one a rich aunt would say, "Ah, sorry, I'm just not used to buying a lot, my grandparents tend to be more conservative in their purchase." she says in her normal voice, but then caught herself as she realized she broke character for a bit,"Gah, I mean, oh, silly me, my tendency to collect books seem to have maneuvered my survivability skills. Next time, I won't hold back. I'll released the shopaholic within me and rub the stores dry, within reason." she says that last part in a whisper so that Mexha doesn't here it.
Once the service bot arrived, Paige gave it her kit but not before she took a picture of it, Woah, not only does this fair have the sci-fi theme down, they even have actual robots. she thought, but her previous theory started flashing back again and once more she started doubting her original thought. She then snapped out of her conflicting thoughts as Mexha just keeps talking about her very extensive and detailed backstory on elves, she even said that she was sixty, "Heh, bet you say that to make a lot of girls act jealous at your youth." she says, though she can't help feeling just a little bit jealous.
Thankfully the topic changed to Port, though the little hamster looks rather angry at the star elf, "Mmhmm, Port here is the most adorable creature in all of the galaxies I reckon. No one can compare to his fluffy physique. But it's best no to call him a pet, it hurts his ego. I like to call him my emotional support companion. For those tough nights in the slammer." she says as they head to another store which is impressive. It practically beats the clothes department her mother would take her by a mile.
Their were just so many choices to pick, some looked exotic and strange, others ridiculous but comfortable. The designs are just all over the place, it was a good thing that the person she's with is more of a fashionista expert than her otherwise she might have just picked a random piece of clothing from a bargain bin and look ridiculous. She then look towards Mexha, who in a flash is already on the aisles foraging some outfits, she even asked her to participate once she manages to wear the ones she chose, "Uhm, alright, I'll try my best. Though don't expect much." she says and waits for the first rows of outfits.
After a few minutes of searching for clothes, Paige was now wearing the first outfit, a baggy jacket with yoga pants, "Woah, I've never felt... So comfortable." she says, embarrassing the soft and fluffy exterior of the jacket's and yoga pant's design, "I bet if I fall right here, I'd just land softly like I landed on the softest bed." she says and does so, not suffering from any impact. Just a soft cushion on her body, "Hm, hm, hm, this is certainly a reliable piece of clothing. Even Port has given is certified approval." she says as she looks at her hamster that's snuggled under her jacket, "Buying this!"
She regretfully took out her first outfit and change into the second. It was a space pirate type of outfit and she felt shy wearing it. As she looked at her phone's camera, she looked cool and certainly fit her aesthetic but she wasn't sure if she was fit to wear something like this, "I don't know about this one, it's something that I don't usually wear..." she stopped herself as Mexha added a brooch on her hair. She looked at her phone and smiled a bit to see how cute and cool she looked, "Hah, forgot what I said. I think this fits me like a glove. Maybe I'll wear this for my first voyage across the stars itself." she says as she makes a pose, a flow of confidence surged thanks to that elf's gesture. For some reason, she thinks of Mexha as a good friend, even though she's somewhat older than her and they just met only moments ago.
Paige then switched second for third, and it was somewhat refreshing. It was a beautiful and vibrant dress that screamed adventure, "Hey, this one's not so bad. It's not a comfortable or imposing as the last too, but I feel like myself when I'm wearing something like this. Plus, these pockets are pretty nice, Port will certainly have some fun rummaging through these." she says, putting both her hands on her pockets.
It was now her turn to find some clothes for her to wear. She wasn't confident in her design choice but she might as well just for the fun of it. For next few minutes, Paige returns with her own stack of clothes, "Alright, I don't have much of an eye for fashion like you Mexha, but here are my top 3 picks." she says and pulls out her first outfit. It was a black jacket with orange linings and a pair of white shorts. She replaced her glasses with a holographic visor giving her a sort of cyberpunk kind of feel, "I call this one street casual. Downside is that I'm pretty sure these visors aren't a good substitute for my glasses, so I can't move around much." she says with a straight face but keeps her cool. It her a bit of a while to change back as she had a hard time stumbling around as she misplaced her glasses.
She manages to change to her second outfit which was revealed to be a skintight suit with a shade of blue. Paige is visibly blushing from wearing this outfit, "Uhm, I thought this outfit looked kind of cool and I saw a character wear something similar, so I thought I'd try it out. I wasn't expecting it to be... risque." she says, she remembered when she worn it, she wasn't expecting to suit to be so form fitted to her petite frame... and also somewhat tight around places. She shook her head on the thought and looked toward Mexha,"W-With this outfit I'm much more quicker and agile. Laser rifles and sword better wish that they hit me... It's just one small caveat, I'LL NEVER WEAR THIS IN PUBLIC." she screams and immediately runs back to the changing room out of embarrassment.
After that fiasco, Paige changed into her final outfit. She looked to have worn a simple white overcoat that looked similar to a uniform, accompanied with white pants and a gloves, "Heh, with this I was going for a space admiral kind of vibe. Behold, for I have found a way to make a disguise to fool my pursuers, all I need is a hat and I'm set." she says, on closer inspection it looks like the clothes she got this from was from the men's section. She certainly looked rather suave in her appearance, her confidence helps in that regard.
Not sure if that meets your demand, I don't usually write long post as of late unless it's a solo game. My posts tend to get real long when I make conversations though. Like this one below:
"Hmm, that makes sense, I'll at least try not to think about it much." Mulan says on the topic of the versions of herself. The soldier did not leave her eyes from Cass, but she too did not want to be hostile. She smiled as Cass decided to tell her a bit of the romantic options that her fellow comrades would have received if fate was a little bit more experimentative then her,"Huh? I've heard of this so-called Persephone before from my research of this world. I did not nor would even imagine Hades to have a lover, he looks too cranky as the saying goes." she says, though she looked toward Cass with surprise as she mentions her attraction towards him,"Ooh, I would have certainly expected Ariel and maybe Elsa to be 'shipped', as the internet coined it, but you. Is this what's called the bad boy trope? Frankly, I do not understand the appeal. Maybe it is the century gap, or my own concept of love, but I certainly can't see any sort of reason why any girl would go for him." she says in a gossiping tone, this is certainly a nice reprieve. Much better to the conversation they had moments ago,"Still, it is rather disappointing to her that Merida wasn't explored as often as I would have hoped. Though, I certainly agree with your pairing, I can certainly imagine how humorous her reaction would be, especially with Prince Charming. It would he an amusing circumstance to say the least." she says on the topic of Merida, but was surprised when Cass mentioned her own ship with Moana. She's met with the Polynesian girl before back in that Princess Slumber Party. She was certainly a girl choke full of adventures across the seas, though she doesn't know much about her then her stories she told, though Mushu certainly liked hanging out with her chicken,"... Ergh, so it seems that even in this day and age, woman still find me attractive." she says with a sigh,"That too is something I won't understand. I am thankful that they choose to not implement such programming. Otherwise I would feel bad for Kristoff if that ever happened." she says with a smirk, she then looks toward the door,"I believe we've left Rapunzel well enough alone, let us visit her again." she says, about to head back to Medbay to see what progress she made.
Even with that, I know it's not that big enough to be long post material. But who knows, this campaign sounds like it'll be my chance to go super detailed like never before, I think.
I think a mongoose, and otter, a racoon, or a fox would be good animorph races for that kind of concept. Most of the mammilian animal races come from territories to the east, and the kobolds and reptilian races come from territories to the west, and that consist of 5 elemental kingdoms on a large peninsula.
Ok, I wasn't thinking of going too far out of the box in regards to races. What do you think about dhampir? They can pretty much fit in any world, old or modern, and the race is pretty tame compared to pathfinder version.
I'd rather do anthropomorphic bat for that concept than a vampire.
Ahh, well, it's only half vampire, but no problem, I'll come up with another character
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Leaning against the wall, watching the others rush by him, he grins. "Go ahead, go get that treasure that's laying there. Be more for me after you die."
Hmm, those elemental kingdoms sound interesting, though it sounds like I'm making an anthropomorphic dragon if I go that route. I'm going with fox. Is there any details on Gods, specifically fire-based ones? Like the phoenix that you've mentioned. Or since there is an elemental kingdom, some sort of Fire Lord? Just a brief description I guess.
Also, do Animorphs have their own society or are they nomadic? I imagine foxes to be nomadic drifters living in more rural areas and some city based areas too. And maybe there not well like by the people, though I am curious on what other races view these anthropomorphic races? Does it vary with each animal or do they all fall in the same stigma?
And is it alright of me to ask these questions or should I focus more on my character?
Hmm, those elemental kingdoms sound interesting, though it sounds like I'm making an anthropomorphic dragon if I go that route. I'm going with fox. Is there any details on Gods, specifically fire-based ones? Like the phoenix that you've mentioned. Or since there is an elemental kingdom, some sort of Fire Lord? Just a brief description I guess.
Also, do Animorphs have their own society or are they nomadic? I imagine foxes to be nomadic drifters living in more rural areas and some city based areas too. And maybe there not well like by the people, though I am curious on what other races view these anthropomorphic races? Does it vary with each animal or do they all fall in the same stigma?
And is it alright of me to ask these questions or should I focus more on my character?
The Phoenix is only one deity that exists in dozens of forms. There are also other fire gods -- you're welcome to make something up if you have a specific proposal. Another fire god is a pack of foxes made out of fire who is mostly worshipped in the eastern lands. The phoenix is more of a creator and solar deity -- this fire god is more of a trickster and hermes/prometheus figure who gives fire to mortals as a tool and weapon. Some stories depict it as the son of the phoenix, but that's mostly in border territories where both deities are widely known. Most of the heartlands of both communities aren't really aware of the other, and don't address the other's existence in their mythology or philosophical writings.
Hi! I'm very much interested in this type of world building campaign, and am very interested in both this type of wordier writing style and in storytelling in general.
My caveats however, are that I am not likely to be able to put up that much writing once per day. Once per week is more likely, though still potentially a stretch. I will also say that I'm not a very good writer in my own opinion, though I'd like to be. If these flaws preclude me from the game I would certainly understand. But I'm here to express interest and provide an example of my writing. I haven't been on the site long or done very much PbP at all. But here is an example of what I can do.
If @Sebecloki thinks it is worth while, I will then try to come up with some kind of character idea.
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I have taken the Oath of Sangus
Hi! I'm very much interested in this type of world building campaign, and am very interested in both this type of wordier writing style and in storytelling in general.
My caveats however, are that I am not likely to be able to put up that much writing once per day. Once per week is more likely, though still potentially a stretch. I will also say that I'm not a very good writer in my own opinion, though I'd like to be. If these flaws preclude me from the game I would certainly understand. But I'm here to express interest and provide an example of my writing. I haven't been on the site long or done very much PbP at all. But here is an example of what I can do.
If @Sebecloki thinks it is worth while, I will then try to come up with some kind of character idea.
It sounds like more than 1 person is interested in exploring a 1/week post format; I'm certainly open to that, though, again, I think it needs to be clear how we'd modify the rules and expectations around that; it's also not going to work at all if the initial concept is to spend a week writing a page reply, but in actuality it ends up being more like "Biff agrees with what the others said, and walks towards the door"; the story will never progress at 1/week with that kind of post.
I can certainly understand that. I think your idea of the modified style, more of a novel style game with several self contained 'chapters' going on at once is very interesting. It doesn't necessarily preclude PC interactions, but means that there may be much more GM/NPC to individual player interactions. Like several solo games rolled into one. An interesting concept. And would allow you the freedom to do much more writing and world building with each individual.
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I have taken the Oath of Sangus
One way I'm thinking about your suggestion for post rate -- we'd have to have everyone buying into this idea, because it's admittedly outside the norms for PbP, is to think of each post as a POV chapter like in a Game of the Thrones book -- you'd try to tell a little, self-contained episode; shorter than real chapter, but something between a post and an interlude (thinking of the interludes in Stormlight Archive). That'd, again, have to be worked out in terms of player agency so this is possible -- and you'd have to have some rules adjustments to accomodate that. But I think it'd work if we did a sort of round robin where everyone contributed in a specific order, so you'd have a couple weeks to work on your next section. Maybe there could be side chatter and worldbuilding going on around the official next POV section. I'm just brainstorming here.
This actually sounds very good. So here are some examples from my posts:
Coming from the Border Wood a horse hobbled towards Heldren. Its rider slumped in the saddle and clung to the horses' neck while clutching his right thorax protectively. Both animal and rider trembled with exhaustion, but still they managed to reach the town square - albeit barely.
As the darkly armored figured rode into sight, a few of the onlookers were hurled back into the icy cold of a too well remembered dreamscape. Nobody moved - a frozen tableau not unlike the paintings of the old Flemish masters. No! It cannot be.The rider looked up, his eyes hidden in the shadow cast by his horned helmet. his nose and ears showing signs of severe discolorations, an entire spectrum from flaming red to pitch black, before falling to the ground. Those of you standing close enough, could hear his despairing whisper. "Help me. The Lady."
Ol' Mother Theodora who was enjoying a pint of ale at the moment, sprang up and ran towards the fallen rider. Quickly she removed his helmet and checked his pulse. Theodora held a small mirror in front of his mouth. As it fogged, she smiled tight-lipped. "Good. You're still alive. Now don't you dare to die on me." The resident witch looked up, a stern look on her visage as she sought a few chinese volunteers. " Arngrim, Shara, Gwyllim and ArcosYou, you, you and...you.Carry him to the apothecary. " The tumult woke up the owl, who blinked sheepishly.
Welcome to Heldren.
So Arngrim, Arcos, Shara and Gwyllim are in the town square. If you carry the rider, please make a DC 15 STR and a DC 14 DEX check.
Daxis and Balthazar can start fighting in the apothecary.
Definitely interested in a game like this with the freedom to help create. Have to agree that the 1/day is probably hoping for too much posting, especially if they're intended to be short novels. However, the OOC thread for a game like this could potentially see hundreds of posts pretty quickly.
I've an idea for a dwarven rune knight. Somewhere under the city are the ancient ruins of a long lost giant civilization and a clan of dwarves have stumbled upon the secrets to their runes of power and protect the ruins and their knowledge fiercely.
A few sample posts made when given the freedom to create a bit more than just react.
The first was my orc warlock introducing himself to one of the other players by making use of his sidekicks and sneaking into the man's basement.
Darkness had long settled over 'Distillery' as it was known, the run down tavern being resuscitated by a half-elf to act as his headquarters for who many would consider a foreign invader or at best the bastard son of a disgraced monarch. While there were a couple patrons sleeping off a long night of drinking upstairs and one drunkard who either couldn't make it up the stairs or have the coin left to pay for a room was passed out in the common room where Tharkos sat attempting to adjust his palate to accept Degg's latest experiment in fermentation as anything but sewer dregs.
High above the city, a shadow passed through the night with no more sound than a breeze through a wind. Hovering over the Distillery, the ghostly form of the one whom some had begun calling the bitter musician for the creature had stumbled upon a viola and begun playing hauntingly into the night. However, this night its instrument was not in its hand but a missive from an acquaintance of Tharkos', Deathwhisper. The orc had roared into Grohl's council with a tear-jerking story, the fate of an entire race upon his shoulders, a wyrmling dragon on his heels and none other than the king's mother at his call. Since his arrival he had seemed preoccupied with something beyond El Stow and had left much of the advisory roll to the king's mother while he was off searching the four corners of three regions for powers unknown. Much of this distraction had been thanks to the specter slowly descending through the sky toward the roof of the Distillery. It had told the orc of ancient power and a dead civilization but details on how to find such places were lost at best and destroyed at worst. Though there were those in the world who had the sight. Soothsayers and oracles who could see through the gloom of history and the veil of future to grant knowledge to the present. These people were called witch or worse and were difficult to gain audience with. Tharkos was a man who could make connections.
Passing through the roof and through the sleeping chambers, the specter came to alight four feet off the ground in the common chamber. A mug shattered behind the bar as a terrified Degg dropped his latest pour and while Tharkos had not been expecting company this night he was not surprised to see the apparition before him. The half-elf knew one day the mysterious orc would come calling.
The phantom extended its arm. Swirling black mists wrapped in foggy cloth and deposited a seal missive upon the table before the rogue. The shadow inclined its head slightly toward the half-elf and the note. Apparently it wasn't leaving until it had been read.
Quote:
Tharkos of June-Taz,
I hope my shade finds you well this evening and that you are indisposed of urgent action for such activity is requested of you. It is my understanding that there is an oracle of sorts within El Stow called Asteria. I greatly desire an audience with these soothsayers which you will facilitate. Inform the wraith of your agreement or refusal to this request.
Ghorbash, Advisor to the King-in-Exile, King Grohl Second of his Name
Quote:
Originally Posted by Daendil
Tharkos' eyes widened as the shade descended through the roof. He glanced into his mug and for a moment pondered that maybe he hadn't given enough credit to Degg's concoction earlier. The sound of shattering glass and the barkeep's incomprehensible mumbling assured him that this was not the case. That ghost was indeed there, floating in the middle of the inn. His inn.
That bothered the half-elf. He was really not looking forward for such encounters tonight. He looked at the incomer with his indispensable mischievous smile though.
- "Errr, are you lost perhaps? The cemetery is on the other side of town."
He couldn't help but recoil as the faceless shadow hovered closer.
- "You frighten my friend to death!" - he called seeing from the corner of his eye that Degg bent down and began to clumsily wind up an oversized heavy crossbow.
Only when the ghost put a missive onto the table, was Tharkos able to get some sense of the situation. He reluctantly took the letter and broke the seal. He skimmed through the lines and looked up at the shade. He read the message again. "Ghorbash. I should have known."
He read it a third time, flipped it over, but the back was empty. - "Is that all?" - he asked without hoping for an answer. The shade seemed to remain in place, waiting for his say.
- "Just great." - he muttered, quoting - "You will facilitate." - on an over-serious tone...
- "BEGONE" - Degg cut into his line of thought with his bellowing, pointing the crossbow towards the shade - and Tharkos.
The half-elf flinched. Apparently the barkeep holding that war instrument towards his direction frightened him more than having to deal with Ghorbash's extraordinary messenger. - "It's alright, Degg. Put that down! He's... he's one of my old friends, Igor. Err... he's a bit out of shape lately, but we're working on it! Just... lower that thing. Calm down!"
He slapped the message down the table and began rubbing his temple.
- "Fine." - he looked at Igor - "Tell him, I'll try to help. But to be honest, it's not going to work... Anyway, I'll do what I can."
- "Now if you'll excuse..." - he added, hoping that the shade would finally decide to leave.
When the crossbow was leveled at the apparition, it did not flinch nor flee nor seem to take offense at the action. It only seemed to sink further into darkness if it were possible, the blackness of its flowing robes taking on an even more shadowy hue.
"Fine. Tell him, I'll try to help. But to be honest, it's not going to work... Anyway, I'll do what I can."
"Now if you'll excuse..."
The words had no sooner left the half-elf's lips than the specter was ascending back through the ceiling, up through the sleeping quarters and into the gloom of night.
Later that night, a slovenly merchant passed through the gates of Hayfield. He seemed to be talking to himself as he walked, deep in conversation as if someone walked by his side. "If you want that overgrown snout you call a nose to remain attached to your face until the next time I rip your sorry hide from the Fell, I suggest you keep yourself well hidden and stay out of trouble. No pie stealing, no baby stealing, no bargains with naive virgins or overanxious suitors. Now begone."
The man found a place, leaning up against the corner of a building down the street from a newly refurbished tavern known simply as 'Distillery'. "So the crime lord wants to play at brewing as well..." the merchant said chuckling to himself. The man then slipped down a nearby alley and ensuring none were watching, concentrated on the raven's feather tucked safely in his hair, waved his hands in a billowy sequence before speaking a harsh word of magic a corrupted form of sylvan before dissolving into a misty cloud that seemed like little more than a passing fog.
It hugged low to the ground as it left the alleyway, moved across the street and passed through a small opening under a window in the back of Distillery. It moved down the wall and through the floor slats into the cellar below before reforming. It did not, however, resemble a rotund merchant when it retook humanoid form but that of an orc. His black hair was shaved on the sides with the top pulled back into a ponytail which was bound together with a lashing that a single raven's feather hung from. His skin was a deep shade of green far closer to pine needles than grass or moss. His hazel eyes gifted with the night sight, one gift of Gruumsh that could not be taken from his children, surveyed the basement room that was appointed for more important guests that seemed inclined to frequent the common room upstairs.
As the orc sat in a chair and threw his feet upon the table preparing to get a bit of sleep for the night, a spider crept out from under the cellar door and grew in size to about two feet tall with a nose that seemed to dwarf most everything else about the creature. Its pointed ears stuck out of coarse black hair that grew in a disheveled manner atop its elongated heard and its wings were tucked behind its back where its dark raven feathers ruffled as it ceased to grow. It had short clawed fingers and clawed feet and a scorpion like tail that swayed back and forth behind it.
"Not a word until someone wakes upstairs...preferably the half-elf, understood."
The second is a post about my shadow monk rogue getting some revenge on an orc he didn't have a healthy relationship with. I was granted some leeway from the DM to use an NPC as I saw fit.
With the vanquishing of the giants, the steading had been handed over to the orcs who quickly took command of the structure under the banner of the Irregulars. A marvel that so many disparate races and creeds could all fall under one banner. It worked so well as aside from occasional meetings or gatherings, the forces that made up the band hadn't to interact all that often. Only to know that in times of need they would have allies, unusual allies, but allies nonetheless.
As it was, the steading grew too crowded for the lizardfolk and he sought out solitude and darkness in the intervening time between taking the steading and stepping through the looped chains. The caves below the structure where they had slain countless giants proved a suitable location for Chutakki's isolation. While the southern portion of the cavern was full of orcs bringing supplies up from their chambers even lower into the steading, the northern reaches of the subterranean rooms were dark and quiet. In silent meditation, the shadow warrior fell into himself and allowed the inky murk to consume his thoughts and body. His connection to the gloom had never been stronger and he felt his powers grow with each passing hour.
Wind carressed his scales in the still air of the cave, a distant drum beat resonated within his ear flaps, a chill spread across the cold stone only to be replaced by a warmth that grew out from the lizardfolk to make the rock damp and slick. A torch nearly within reach burst into flame in a shower of sparks and the scent of rotting meat permeated the moist air. All harmless sensory affects courtesy of the darkness. But there was more bubbling under the surface, roiling in a dense fog of the bleakest black and the scout could sense its power and feel its presence. He just needed something...or someone to test it on.
The sounds of orcs carrying goods through the southern area of the cave caught Chutakki's attention pulling him out of his meditation. One voice in particular carried especially distinct across the air, Grimshak. The lizardfolk had never forgotten his initial encounter with that one. He had gotten himself behind the orcish barricade at the entrance to their little village and it had been Grimshak who had questioned the lizardfolk's honor. While lizardfolk as a rule did not value things such as honor so much, Chutakki had been embarrassed that day. His attempts had been foiled and his worth questioned by an orc...an orc. This orc was no brave berserker like Begon but a sniveling underling, licking at Dratech's boots. He was a manipulator, a sly fox, he would undermine their alliance with the Irregulars. He needed to die for many reasons but Chutakki had never forgot that first meeting and had not forgiven. Darkness prevailed and the rogue moved to the south to draw the orc into the shadows.
A number of grunts were carrying loads with Grimshak bellowing orders and barking commands. His hubris ground on Chutakki and only further enraged the lizardfolk. Patient and determined, the hunter picked his moment carefully. Loads were being hauled up from below to be carried up from the cave. With each load a group of orcs would carry the goods, leaving Grimshak to coordinate the next from the hole. In those moments, he was alone. A hex upon Grimshak and all his ilk, all his kin, his entire bloodline.
A voice called out from the darkness, an orcish whisper, "Grimshak...Grimshak." Not a plea for aid but a call for help as one would ask to hold a door or fetch a candle. It was enough to cause the captain to leave his post and investigate. Without knowing it, he walked past a figure shrouded in darkness against a nearby wall. Every step sent the mysterious voice further into the cave causing the orc to grow suspicious but his mind was befuddled, his intelligence muddied by the lizardfolk's hex. Following behind, Chutakki passed without a trace and made no sound. Soon enough, Grimshak realized that his footfalls had stopped making sound.
In a flash, Chutakki was one with the inky blackness and the next he was standing directly behind Grimshak. His fingers shot out driving into the orc's spine, momentarily paralyzing him. Like a crocodile drags a wildebeast into the waters, Chutakki began pulling Grimshak further toward the back of the cave. Over and over his scaled hands beat into the orc's abdomen as he fought for his life against the crazed lizardfolk, screaming for aid but his voice rang out as silent as a breeze across a field for all sound was devoured by the shadows. The orc fought back but his axe was too slow to connect with the dancing rogue. Again and again, Chutakki dodged his foe's swings only to land two or three of his own in the form of fists, fingers and backhands.
Quickly, Chutakki lashed out with his shortsword, wreathing the orc in shadowy energy that vibrated around Grimshak. The lizardfolk abruptly stepped back and motioned for the orc leave. He was free to go. He had proven his point. Rising the anger and fear upon his face, Grimshak took one step back toward the steading and a thunderous boom shook the cavern. While no sound could escape the silence bubble Chutakki had placed over the spot, the force still caused dust to fall from the ceiling and the floor to tremble. Blood flowed from Grimshak's ears, eyes and nose from the concussive shock. Teeth gnashed at orcish flesh as Chutakki feasted on his enemy, just a taste of the hated captain before he shoved his remains into the stream to flow out of the cave. One souvenir did the rouge keep, a finger which he plopped into a pouch on his hip.
A bat exited the cavern into the steading, flying up the stairwell toward the great hall. In a dark corner of an unoccupied room, a lizardfolk took form and casually lied down to rest until it was time to depart for the frozen north.
This is a recent post from a game I DM. Its mostly used as set up for events the PC's will encounter later on but I thought this showcased my writing style when I have the opportunity of full writing creativity.
Spoiler alert - its rated R for gore and torture, so if anyone is triggered by such images, I'd advise not reading.
Blue skies stretched from one horizon to the next making the area between the Reghed Glacier and the Spine of the World seem to stretch out forever. The early autumn sun was causing the fresh snow to fall off the tree branches in showers of star dust that sparkled in the light peeking down between the boughs. A fox stalked the entrance to a rabbit den and a hawk sat upon a clean branch watching for the tell tale movement in the snow signifying the passing of a mouse. Lizzibet walked alone in the snow draped forest, a basket in one hand, half full of berries and a dead mink in the other. She tugged on a rope which pulled a small cage out of the powder revealing another mink had wandering into one of her traps. It was proving to be a fruitful day.
Next, she sought out the fallen log by Demon's Knob where she knew rutabaga may grow. Setting her haul down next to her, she took her small spade out of her pack and began shoveling the snow pile aside to gain access to the soil. It was softer here where the rot of the log produced a small amount of heat allowing the tubers to grow and for her to dig. Pulling up a bushel by their stems, she was startled by the appearance of a man behind her. She calmly placed her vegetables into the basket with the berries, their yellowish flesh contrasting the purple of the fruit. Normally, she would have admired the appeal of the colors but her hand was shaking badly as she withdrew it from the container and gripped the dagger on her waist.
A killer stalked the frozen wastes of Icewind Dale, preying on the innocent men and women of Ten Towns. Some said it was the Frostmaiden herself, come to earth to punish those who defied her. Others looked to the orcs of the mountains, or spoke of a madman exiled from the south. For the victims, the truth was far worse than any rumor could ever convey.
Steam rose from the rapidly melting snow that had been sprayed in a gout of fresh blood. This was deep blood for it was dark and viscous, congealing in a sludge that was neither liquid nor solid as it soaked into the ground of the shadowed thicket. The killer's sickle sliced through skin and sinew and bone, separating the ribs from the spine. His hands were thrust into the wound to push the ribs away, exposing the lungs within. They were pulled out of the body and splayed across the victim's back, one on each side. The blood eagle.
The woman had not survived the ritual, few did. The shock would usually do them in before even the loss of blood. He moved from the woman's back and lifted up her arms, one hand still clutching the knife she had bravely attempted to ward him off with. He brushed his own hand across his wolf skin coat and felt the thin tear where her blade had sliced across. His god would have rewarded such bravery, but hers? Unlikely. The man pulled a necklace off the corpse's neck and held up the small symbol attached to the chain, a road into the sun. Lathander. A weak god of songs and writings and temples. Not a strong god like Malar who granted his devotees strength, power and fury. The wolf skin that covered the man's back had been taken in a sacred hunt. Its head was like a helmet of remembrance for the slain predator, a reminder that Isarr was the alpha wolf of these lands. Not even the dire beasts of the tundra could resist him.
He looked down upon the dead woman. She had been young. Not even to her thirtieth birthday if he had to judge. A worthy prey and a noble sacrifice for his god. Gripping his sickle tightly he began to cut the hands off the woman, then used a pick to put a hole in the flesh through the hand bones where he ran a length of cord through and added them to his own necklace with its own gory charms, severed hands. He had taken five lives. He had ten hands. He need more. An offering of twenty were required for Malar. He would have them all before the winter solstice.
Here's another DM post I made to introduce an NPC to the party. I think it shows a good deal of detail and setting building that would be useful in your game.
One day to Floshin Estate and a second to the top of the ridge where Gram had awaited left five days of travel before Secomber. The Delimbiyr Route had seen repair in the years since the reclamation of the city from hobgoblin raids out of the High Moor had left the town ruined and abandoned in 1479. In 1496, the Lords of Waterdeep had granted the land to a wood elf cleric of Helm, Theoden, and a dragonborn paladin of Hoar, Nirvanair. By 1499, the pair had gained sovereignty of the region and declared themselves the Kings of Secomber. Whether the Lord's Alliance was in favor of such a political move was irrelevant for the organization hadn't regained enough power in the years after the War of the Book to protect the area themselves and were forced to rely on supplicants in many places. Some of those perceived vassals were no longer under the yoke of Waterdeep, including the pair in Secomber. While this transition of power suited the people who returned to their home, it was seen as a threat to the Black Network who sought control of the Delimbiyr Route for its connection to the Black Road through Anauroch.
By the present, in 1503, there were 1500 citizens that called the City of Three Hills home. Lord's Hill, High Hill and Good Hill each housed one leg of the town's new tripod of prosperity. A small garrison in a modest keep patrolled Lord's Hill where Nirvanair marshalled his forces. Upon High Hill stood the Tower of Amelior Armanitas. It had bee home to an alchemist of the same name who had a moderate reputation as a sage in the North. He had not been seen since the sacking of Secomber at the hands of hobgoblins in 1479 and rumors swirled about his whereabouts in the intervening years that ranged between his head on a pike in the High Moor or his own castle in a conquered layer of the Abyss. Since then, Theoden had taken up residence in the tower and the Ironeater Clan of dwarves had carved their own keep into the base of the hill where it was said they dug into the stone beneath the tower searching for Amelior's secret chambers and laboratories. Dominating Good Hill was the Twin's Feast Halls which featured an odeon and a banquet hall and had been the cultural center of the city. The synonymous twins had been a pair of halfling brothers with a flair for good food and good theater. Sadly, they died defending their lifes' work. Currently, a priest of Ilmater had erected a simple shrine in the banquet hall and started a poor house in the odeon to ensure none were left behind by Secomber's new prosperity.
The locals of Secomber or anyone who had visited once or twice already knew all this but something else had the provincial community's attention the day Virotalus rode up to the southern gate with Gram and Ilphaloq in toe. Fields had been abandoned by all but the property owners and the outlying streets were all but deserted. A commotion could be heard coming from The Circle, the parochial term for the town's market district. Sitting on the cobblestones was the cause of the distraction, a woman with long cloud white hair that softly hung to the small of her back that was covered in gossamer silks of snow white cloth cinched with a satin cord inlaid with golden threads. Her lips were the color of storm clouds and her skin the shade of blue only a clear summer sky can produce. Even while seated, she towered over those who had come to gawk at such a rare sight for if she had stood, she would have cleared all but the highest of buildings at over twenty feet.
She had come hoping for a glimpse at an elusive text said to be within Amelior Armanitas' tower and while she had been denied entrance, she had been promised it would be brought from the libraries' shelves for her perusal. In the meantime, she had decided to have a look around Secomber when she came across a soul who she instantly identified as belonging there no more than she, an elven druid named U'pahtea.
He seemed so perturbed at being in the city, the cloud giant just had to learn the reason for his consternation. Finding a spot in the cobblestones that wasn't littered with horse droppings, she had plopped her massive form onto the ground to sate her curiosity. "Bergljot Vaasadottir and if you don't mind, I can just tell by the look on your face there must be a fabulous reason that you have brought yourself into this city." Her voice was deep but not gruff as a man's would be. There was a grace to it and a definite think Romancing the Stone era Kathleen Turnerfeminine lilt to her words as she spoke. Seeing the man would prefer to not be forthcoming, she began her own little tale. "Fine, I'll start and we'll see if your story can top mine. So, my father and I came across an odd book that was 'procured' from a tower in Leilon that had references to a sword that housed a piece of a dead star but not just any star...a living star. Are you familiar with the concept of living stars? I apologize if I am mistaken, but I am certain you are a practitioner of the druidic arts. I've heard of druids that pull gifts from our cosmic companions. This sword was no different but its power came from a horrid entity known as The Void. It is said this 'star' would devour all it came into contact with, much as the sword was capable of doing. So...I'm trying to track down this sword. Information is a bit hard to come by. That first book we found...the author was, a bit touched. Father believes those that deal in these elder evils can become corrupted by them, made mad by their otherworldly presence."
She batted her vermillion eyes at U'pahtea and asked, "So, can you beat my story?"
__________________
I have taken the Oath.
Last edited by tomplum; Aug 15th, 2022 at 08:00 AM.
Hi! I'm very much interested in this type of world building campaign, and am very interested in both this type of wordier writing style and in storytelling in general.
My caveats however, are that I am not likely to be able to put up that much writing once per day. Once per week is more likely, though still potentially a stretch. I will also say that I'm not a very good writer in my own opinion, though I'd like to be. If these flaws preclude me from the game I would certainly understand. But I'm here to express interest and provide an example of my writing. I haven't been on the site long or done very much PbP at all. But here is an example of what I can do.
If @Sebecloki thinks it is worth while, I will then try to come up with some kind of character idea.
Quote:
Originally Posted by tomplum
Definitely interested in a game like this with the freedom to help create. Have to agree that the 1/day is probably hoping for too much posting, especially if they're intended to be short novels. However, the OOC thread for a game like this could potentially see hundreds of posts pretty quickly.
I've an idea for a dwarven rune knight. Somewhere under the city are the ancient ruins of a long lost giant civilization and a clan of dwarves have stumbled upon the secrets to their runes of power and protect the ruins and their knowledge fiercely.
A few sample posts made when given the freedom to create a bit more than just react.
The first was my orc warlock introducing himself to one of the other players by making use of his sidekicks and sneaking into the man's basement.
Darkness had long settled over 'Distillery' as it was known, the run down tavern being resuscitated by a half-elf to act as his headquarters for who many would consider a foreign invader or at best the bastard son of a disgraced monarch. While there were a couple patrons sleeping off a long night of drinking upstairs and one drunkard who either couldn't make it up the stairs or have the coin left to pay for a room was passed out in the common room where Tharkos sat attempting to adjust his palate to accept Degg's latest experiment in fermentation as anything but sewer dregs.
High above the city, a shadow passed through the night with no more sound than a breeze through a wind. Hovering over the Distillery, the ghostly form of the one whom some had begun calling the bitter musician for the creature had stumbled upon a viola and begun playing hauntingly into the night. However, this night its instrument was not in its hand but a missive from an acquaintance of Tharkos', Deathwhisper. The orc had roared into Grohl's council with a tear-jerking story, the fate of an entire race upon his shoulders, a wyrmling dragon on his heels and none other than the king's mother at his call. Since his arrival he had seemed preoccupied with something beyond El Stow and had left much of the advisory roll to the king's mother while he was off searching the four corners of three regions for powers unknown. Much of this distraction had been thanks to the specter slowly descending through the sky toward the roof of the Distillery. It had told the orc of ancient power and a dead civilization but details on how to find such places were lost at best and destroyed at worst. Though there were those in the world who had the sight. Soothsayers and oracles who could see through the gloom of history and the veil of future to grant knowledge to the present. These people were called witch or worse and were difficult to gain audience with. Tharkos was a man who could make connections.
Passing through the roof and through the sleeping chambers, the specter came to alight four feet off the ground in the common chamber. A mug shattered behind the bar as a terrified Degg dropped his latest pour and while Tharkos had not been expecting company this night he was not surprised to see the apparition before him. The half-elf knew one day the mysterious orc would come calling.
The phantom extended its arm. Swirling black mists wrapped in foggy cloth and deposited a seal missive upon the table before the rogue. The shadow inclined its head slightly toward the half-elf and the note. Apparently it wasn't leaving until it had been read.
When the crossbow was leveled at the apparition, it did not flinch nor flee nor seem to take offense at the action. It only seemed to sink further into darkness if it were possible, the blackness of its flowing robes taking on an even more shadowy hue.
"Fine. Tell him, I'll try to help. But to be honest, it's not going to work... Anyway, I'll do what I can."
"Now if you'll excuse..."
The words had no sooner left the half-elf's lips than the specter was ascending back through the ceiling, up through the sleeping quarters and into the gloom of night.
Later that night, a slovenly merchant passed through the gates of Hayfield. He seemed to be talking to himself as he walked, deep in conversation as if someone walked by his side. "If you want that overgrown snout you call a nose to remain attached to your face until the next time I rip your sorry hide from the Fell, I suggest you keep yourself well hidden and stay out of trouble. No pie stealing, no baby stealing, no bargains with naive virgins or overanxious suitors. Now begone."
The man found a place, leaning up against the corner of a building down the street from a newly refurbished tavern known simply as 'Distillery'. "So the crime lord wants to play at brewing as well..." the merchant said chuckling to himself. The man then slipped down a nearby alley and ensuring none were watching, concentrated on the raven's feather tucked safely in his hair, waved his hands in a billowy sequence before speaking a harsh word of magic a corrupted form of sylvan before dissolving into a misty cloud that seemed like little more than a passing fog.
It hugged low to the ground as it left the alleyway, moved across the street and passed through a small opening under a window in the back of Distillery. It moved down the wall and through the floor slats into the cellar below before reforming. It did not, however, resemble a rotund merchant when it retook humanoid form but that of an orc. His black hair was shaved on the sides with the top pulled back into a ponytail which was bound together with a lashing that a single raven's feather hung from. His skin was a deep shade of green far closer to pine needles than grass or moss. His hazel eyes gifted with the night sight, one gift of Gruumsh that could not be taken from his children, surveyed the basement room that was appointed for more important guests that seemed inclined to frequent the common room upstairs.
As the orc sat in a chair and threw his feet upon the table preparing to get a bit of sleep for the night, a spider crept out from under the cellar door and grew in size to about two feet tall with a nose that seemed to dwarf most everything else about the creature. Its pointed ears stuck out of coarse black hair that grew in a disheveled manner atop its elongated heard and its wings were tucked behind its back where its dark raven feathers ruffled as it ceased to grow. It had short clawed fingers and clawed feet and a scorpion like tail that swayed back and forth behind it.
"Not a word until someone wakes upstairs...preferably the half-elf, understood."
The second is a post about my shadow monk rogue getting some revenge on an orc he didn't have a healthy relationship with. I was granted some leeway from the DM to use an NPC as I saw fit.
With the vanquishing of the giants, the steading had been handed over to the orcs who quickly took command of the structure under the banner of the Irregulars. A marvel that so many disparate races and creeds could all fall under one banner. It worked so well as aside from occasional meetings or gatherings, the forces that made up the band hadn't to interact all that often. Only to know that in times of need they would have allies, unusual allies, but allies nonetheless.
As it was, the steading grew too crowded for the lizardfolk and he sought out solitude and darkness in the intervening time between taking the steading and stepping through the looped chains. The caves below the structure where they had slain countless giants proved a suitable location for Chutakki's isolation. While the southern portion of the cavern was full of orcs bringing supplies up from their chambers even lower into the steading, the northern reaches of the subterranean rooms were dark and quiet. In silent meditation, the shadow warrior fell into himself and allowed the inky murk to consume his thoughts and body. His connection to the gloom had never been stronger and he felt his powers grow with each passing hour.
Wind carressed his scales in the still air of the cave, a distant drum beat resonated within his ear flaps, a chill spread across the cold stone only to be replaced by a warmth that grew out from the lizardfolk to make the rock damp and slick. A torch nearly within reach burst into flame in a shower of sparks and the scent of rotting meat permeated the moist air. All harmless sensory affects courtesy of the darkness. But there was more bubbling under the surface, roiling in a dense fog of the bleakest black and the scout could sense its power and feel its presence. He just needed something...or someone to test it on.
The sounds of orcs carrying goods through the southern area of the cave caught Chutakki's attention pulling him out of his meditation. One voice in particular carried especially distinct across the air, Grimshak. The lizardfolk had never forgotten his initial encounter with that one. He had gotten himself behind the orcish barricade at the entrance to their little village and it had been Grimshak who had questioned the lizardfolk's honor. While lizardfolk as a rule did not value things such as honor so much, Chutakki had been embarrassed that day. His attempts had been foiled and his worth questioned by an orc...an orc. This orc was no brave berserker like Begon but a sniveling underling, licking at Dratech's boots. He was a manipulator, a sly fox, he would undermine their alliance with the Irregulars. He needed to die for many reasons but Chutakki had never forgot that first meeting and had not forgiven. Darkness prevailed and the rogue moved to the south to draw the orc into the shadows.
A number of grunts were carrying loads with Grimshak bellowing orders and barking commands. His hubris ground on Chutakki and only further enraged the lizardfolk. Patient and determined, the hunter picked his moment carefully. Loads were being hauled up from below to be carried up from the cave. With each load a group of orcs would carry the goods, leaving Grimshak to coordinate the next from the hole. In those moments, he was alone. A hex upon Grimshak and all his ilk, all his kin, his entire bloodline.
A voice called out from the darkness, an orcish whisper, "Grimshak...Grimshak." Not a plea for aid but a call for help as one would ask to hold a door or fetch a candle. It was enough to cause the captain to leave his post and investigate. Without knowing it, he walked past a figure shrouded in darkness against a nearby wall. Every step sent the mysterious voice further into the cave causing the orc to grow suspicious but his mind was befuddled, his intelligence muddied by the lizardfolk's hex. Following behind, Chutakki passed without a trace and made no sound. Soon enough, Grimshak realized that his footfalls had stopped making sound.
In a flash, Chutakki was one with the inky blackness and the next he was standing directly behind Grimshak. His fingers shot out driving into the orc's spine, momentarily paralyzing him. Like a crocodile drags a wildebeast into the waters, Chutakki began pulling Grimshak further toward the back of the cave. Over and over his scaled hands beat into the orc's abdomen as he fought for his life against the crazed lizardfolk, screaming for aid but his voice rang out as silent as a breeze across a field for all sound was devoured by the shadows. The orc fought back but his axe was too slow to connect with the dancing rogue. Again and again, Chutakki dodged his foe's swings only to land two or three of his own in the form of fists, fingers and backhands.
Quickly, Chutakki lashed out with his shortsword, wreathing the orc in shadowy energy that vibrated around Grimshak. The lizardfolk abruptly stepped back and motioned for the orc leave. He was free to go. He had proven his point. Rising the anger and fear upon his face, Grimshak took one step back toward the steading and a thunderous boom shook the cavern. While no sound could escape the silence bubble Chutakki had placed over the spot, the force still caused dust to fall from the ceiling and the floor to tremble. Blood flowed from Grimshak's ears, eyes and nose from the concussive shock. Teeth gnashed at orcish flesh as Chutakki feasted on his enemy, just a taste of the hated captain before he shoved his remains into the stream to flow out of the cave. One souvenir did the rouge keep, a finger which he plopped into a pouch on his hip.
A bat exited the cavern into the steading, flying up the stairwell toward the great hall. In a dark corner of an unoccupied room, a lizardfolk took form and casually lied down to rest until it was time to depart for the frozen north.
This is a recent post from a game I DM. Its mostly used as set up for events the PC's will encounter later on but I thought this showcased my writing style when I have the opportunity of full writing creativity.
Spoiler alert - its rated R for gore and torture, so if anyone is triggered by such images, I'd advise not reading.
Blue skies stretched from one horizon to the next making the area between the Reghed Glacier and the Spine of the World seem to stretch out forever. The early autumn sun was causing the fresh snow to fall off the tree branches in showers of star dust that sparkled in the light peeking down between the boughs. A fox stalked the entrance to a rabbit den and a hawk sat upon a clean branch watching for the tell tale movement in the snow signifying the passing of a mouse. Lizzibet walked alone in the snow draped forest, a basket in one hand, half full of berries and a dead mink in the other. She tugged on a rope which pulled a small cage out of the powder revealing another mink had wandering into one of her traps. It was proving to be a fruitful day.
Next, she sought out the fallen log by Demon's Knob where she knew rutabaga may grow. Setting her haul down next to her, she took her small spade out of her pack and began shoveling the snow pile aside to gain access to the soil. It was softer here where the rot of the log produced a small amount of heat allowing the tubers to grow and for her to dig. Pulling up a bushel by their stems, she was startled by the appearance of a man behind her. She calmly placed her vegetables into the basket with the berries, their yellowish flesh contrasting the purple of the fruit. Normally, she would have admired the appeal of the colors but her hand was shaking badly as she withdrew it from the container and gripped the dagger on her waist.
A killer stalked the frozen wastes of Icewind Dale, preying on the innocent men and women of Ten Towns. Some said it was the Frostmaiden herself, come to earth to punish those who defied her. Others looked to the orcs of the mountains, or spoke of a madman exiled from the south. For the victims, the truth was far worse than any rumor could ever convey.
Steam rose from the rapidly melting snow that had been sprayed in a gout of fresh blood. This was deep blood for it was dark and viscous, congealing in a sludge that was neither liquid nor solid as it soaked into the ground of the shadowed thicket. The killer's sickle sliced through skin and sinew and bone, separating the ribs from the spine. His hands were thrust into the wound to push the ribs away, exposing the lungs within. They were pulled out of the body and splayed across the victim's back, one on each side. The blood eagle.
The woman had not survived the ritual, few did. The shock would usually do them in before even the loss of blood. He moved from the woman's back and lifted up her arms, one hand still clutching the knife she had bravely attempted to ward him off with. He brushed his own hand across his wolf skin coat and felt the thin tear where her blade had sliced across. His god would have rewarded such bravery, but hers? Unlikely. The man pulled a necklace off the corpse's neck and held up the small symbol attached to the chain, a road into the sun. Lathander. A weak god of songs and writings and temples. Not a strong god like Malar who granted his devotees strength, power and fury. The wolf skin that covered the man's back had been taken in a sacred hunt. Its head was like a helmet of remembrance for the slain predator, a reminder that Isarr was the alpha wolf of these lands. Not even the dire beasts of the tundra could resist him.
He looked down upon the dead woman. She had been young. Not even to her thirtieth birthday if he had to judge. A worthy prey and a noble sacrifice for his god. Gripping his sickle tightly he began to cut the hands off the woman, then used a pick to put a hole in the flesh through the hand bones where he ran a length of cord through and added them to his own necklace with its own gory charms, severed hands. He had taken five lives. He had ten hands. He need more. An offering of twenty were required for Malar. He would have them all before the winter solstice.
Here's another DM post I made to introduce an NPC to the party. I think it shows a good deal of detail and setting building that would be useful in your game.
One day to Floshin Estate and a second to the top of the ridge where Gram had awaited left five days of travel before Secomber. The Delimbiyr Route had seen repair in the years since the reclamation of the city from hobgoblin raids out of the High Moor had left the town ruined and abandoned in 1479. In 1496, the Lords of Waterdeep had granted the land to a wood elf cleric of Helm, Theoden, and a dragonborn paladin of Hoar, Nirvanair. By 1499, the pair had gained sovereignty of the region and declared themselves the Kings of Secomber. Whether the Lord's Alliance was in favor of such a political move was irrelevant for the organization hadn't regained enough power in the years after the War of the Book to protect the area themselves and were forced to rely on supplicants in many places. Some of those perceived vassals were no longer under the yoke of Waterdeep, including the pair in Secomber. While this transition of power suited the people who returned to their home, it was seen as a threat to the Black Network who sought control of the Delimbiyr Route for its connection to the Black Road through Anauroch.
By the present, in 1503, there were 1500 citizens that called the City of Three Hills home. Lord's Hill, High Hill and Good Hill each housed one leg of the town's new tripod of prosperity. A small garrison in a modest keep patrolled Lord's Hill where Nirvanair marshalled his forces. Upon High Hill stood the Tower of Amelior Armanitas. It had bee home to an alchemist of the same name who had a moderate reputation as a sage in the North. He had not been seen since the sacking of Secomber at the hands of hobgoblins in 1479 and rumors swirled about his whereabouts in the intervening years that ranged between his head on a pike in the High Moor or his own castle in a conquered layer of the Abyss. Since then, Theoden had taken up residence in the tower and the Ironeater Clan of dwarves had carved their own keep into the base of the hill where it was said they dug into the stone beneath the tower searching for Amelior's secret chambers and laboratories. Dominating Good Hill was the Twin's Feast Halls which featured an odeon and a banquet hall and had been the cultural center of the city. The synonymous twins had been a pair of halfling brothers with a flair for good food and good theater. Sadly, they died defending their lifes' work. Currently, a priest of Ilmater had erected a simple shrine in the banquet hall and started a poor house in the odeon to ensure none were left behind by Secomber's new prosperity.
The locals of Secomber or anyone who had visited once or twice already knew all this but something else had the provincial community's attention the day Virotalus rode up to the southern gate with Gram and Ilphaloq in toe. Fields had been abandoned by all but the property owners and the outlying streets were all but deserted. A commotion could be heard coming from The Circle, the parochial term for the town's market district. Sitting on the cobblestones was the cause of the distraction, a woman with long cloud white hair that softly hung to the small of her back that was covered in gossamer silks of snow white cloth cinched with a satin cord inlaid with golden threads. Her lips were the color of storm clouds and her skin the shade of blue only a clear summer sky can produce. Even while seated, she towered over those who had come to gawk at such a rare sight for if she had stood, she would have cleared all but the highest of buildings at over twenty feet.
She had come hoping for a glimpse at an elusive text said to be within Amelior Armanitas' tower and while she had been denied entrance, she had been promised it would be brought from the libraries' shelves for her perusal. In the meantime, she had decided to have a look around Secomber when she came across a soul who she instantly identified as belonging there no more than she, an elven druid named U'pahtea.
He seemed so perturbed at being in the city, the cloud giant just had to learn the reason for his consternation. Finding a spot in the cobblestones that wasn't littered with horse droppings, she had plopped her massive form onto the ground to sate her curiosity. "Bergljot Vaasadottir and if you don't mind, I can just tell by the look on your face there must be a fabulous reason that you have brought yourself into this city." Her voice was deep but not gruff as a man's would be. There was a grace to it and a definite think Romancing the Stone era Kathleen Turnerfeminine lilt to her words as she spoke. Seeing the man would prefer to not be forthcoming, she began her own little tale. "Fine, I'll start and we'll see if your story can top mine. So, my father and I came across an odd book that was 'procured' from a tower in Leilon that had references to a sword that housed a piece of a dead star but not just any star...a living star. Are you familiar with the concept of living stars? I apologize if I am mistaken, but I am certain you are a practitioner of the druidic arts. I've heard of druids that pull gifts from our cosmic companions. This sword was no different but its power came from a horrid entity known as The Void. It is said this 'star' would devour all it came into contact with, much as the sword was capable of doing. So...I'm trying to track down this sword. Information is a bit hard to come by. That first book we found...the author was, a bit touched. Father believes those that deal in these elder evils can become corrupted by them, made mad by their otherworldly presence."
She batted her vermillion eyes at U'pahtea and asked, "So, can you beat my story?"
That is another consideration -- I think this might work well if everyone was on board with it as a midway point between a worldbuilding project and a game; the ooc could go to hundreds of brief posts discussing worldbuilding concepts around the game. For instance, someone might mention a book, and someone else might suggest some history for that book, and someone else might create a revised edition of the book, and why it was revised, and so forth. That kind of chatter might help keep the game together even if the actual positing rate is pretty slow.