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ImmacuNES III: Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy

Discussion in 'Never Ending Stories' started by Immaculate, Mar 24, 2010.

  1. thomas.berubeg

    thomas.berubeg Wandering the World

    Joined:
    Aug 21, 2006
    Messages:
    9,037
    Location:
    Ft. Lauderdale
    Orders tomorrow, I promise (don't have work tomorrow, so should have time to actually read and figure out the rules :p )

    for those of you wondering, the kraz ke meka have been NPCed for a while
     
  2. vruchten

    vruchten Found serenity in torture

    Joined:
    Mar 8, 2009
    Messages:
    385
    angel of mercy... that would be sirona i guess... don`t know if she is into plums though...

    edit: but for sure she would be the one who supports redeeming evil creatures the most..
     
  3. Seon

    Seon Not An Evil Liar

    Joined:
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    Not Lying through my teeth
    She's into plums. She is, in fact, into bunnies and rainbows as well I believe.
     
  4. Ekolite

    Ekolite The Mighty Jungle

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    5,449
    Location:
    Celtia Atrebatia
    It happened it Uld'ar didn't it? Not much into Sirona here.
     
  5. Immaculate

    Immaculate unerring

    Joined:
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    7,519
    someone go check on tyrs and make sure he is still alive.

    TYRS: Wear a helmet and be safe on your moto-cycle!
     
  6. thomas.berubeg

    thomas.berubeg Wandering the World

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    Location:
    Ft. Lauderdale
    My apologies, everyone. RL is too much, and so I'm going to have to drop this
     
  7. Immaculate

    Immaculate unerring

    Joined:
    Jan 22, 2003
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    7,519
    Seon,
    if you had any negotiations or discussions with the Kraz-ke-Meka or if you would like to do any before they 'submit their orders', please tell me now.

    I.
     
  8. Seon

    Seon Not An Evil Liar

    Joined:
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    8,033
    Location:
    Not Lying through my teeth
    I had no discussions with them yet.
     
  9. hbar

    hbar Constant

    Joined:
    Feb 6, 2008
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    1,307
    Location:
    Wisconsin
    Drat! My plans of a grand Troll Alliance, shattered. I was looking forward to your writing, but RL is more important. Good luck with your travels!

    EDIT: :facepalm: right, Kraz-ke-meka aren't trolls, they're gnomes. Sorry all, still learning who's who...
     
  10. Diamondeye

    Diamondeye So Happy I Could Die

    Joined:
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    6,527
    Location:
    Dancing in the Dark
    Succellan Elegy/Martyr-ode

    Bow your heads in mourning,
    Sound the tolling bell,
    For our champion who fell,
    To purge from our nature; hell;
    The fallen Prince of Morning.

    Pay your respects and plant a seed,
    At the low of the tide,
    And walk with pride,
    That you can stride,
    Above the kaer; by an Angel freed.

    So with your mouth a word of thanks,
    Pick up the blade,
    The mailen plate,
    And lances straigth;
    To stand tall in the Sjykalfar ranks.

    Toll the march's sounding bells;
    Keep in mind the sacrifice,
    The Prince of Morning made; and rise,
    To uphold the purpose of his demise,
    And send his murderers back to the nine Hells!​
     
  11. Immaculate

    Immaculate unerring

    Joined:
    Jan 22, 2003
    Messages:
    7,519
    It saddens me that two of the FFH 'originals' have left this game. I can only hope that they return at some later date if they continue to 'lurk' and decide they want to rejoin when they have more time or interest.

    Orange and Thomas, i am very sad to see you go. Please come back and visit whenever you can and also please jump back in if the interest ever piques or if the time ever allows.

    (also, if you ever have any ideas on how i could change the game to make it more interesting for you (if interest is lacking), please e-mail me).

    Diamondeye, good poetry. - i now have to go edit the update i wrote about what we've been e-mailing each other.

    Ekolite, Tyrs: don't forget to submit orders! I look forward to your grandiose plans.
     
  12. Seon

    Seon Not An Evil Liar

    Joined:
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    8,033
    Location:
    Not Lying through my teeth
    Oh wait. I found a major strategic error on my part in the order :S.

    But I won't send new orders.
     
  13. Ekolite

    Ekolite The Mighty Jungle

    Joined:
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    5,449
    Location:
    Celtia Atrebatia
    Hahaa. We should have a social group or something... ;)

    Orders will be in soon.
     
  14. vruchten

    vruchten Found serenity in torture

    Joined:
    Mar 8, 2009
    Messages:
    385
    The tale of Chubba

    Chapter one: The axe

    Spoiler :
    The kharkusian army has been marching for ages. Thick forests and the ambushes of the grey shadows had taken their tow already. Chubba had been tired from the enduring march. He had been missing his wives for too long.
    Some weeks ago he had met members of the Nozkam Legon for the first time. They had made the impression of being good people, dwarven and trollish alike. Together they had been preparing the raid into the tunnels for the last weeks. The Strongest Son had been good in convincing the dwarven leaders into a direct assault.
    Everything had been prepared.

    The Strongest Son raised his axe high into the sky. His powerful voice called the combined armies to charge.
    Lines of heavy armed infantry from the Nozkam Legon started marching into the Tunnels. Wild war-bands of kharkusian axeman and short-bow archers where storming though the dark homestead of the shadows.
    Chubbas axe butchered more grey in the first hours than he had deflowered women for his whole life. That means: not a lot for a kharkusian soldier, but still much more flesh than any member of any other tribe would ever touch.
    The enemy was no match for his squad. When they entered one room it took the fierce archers seconds to let half the shadows drop dead. And then the minutes of shock and melee followed, where the orcen runners chopped of grey head, legs and arms from those sorry creatures.
    Grey blood covered their weapons, faces, their whole bodies.
    But the deeper they got into the dungeons, the narrower the caves became, the more fierce the nasty crawlers got.
    In one dark moment two of these horrors jumped onto Chubba. Sinking their teeth deep into his flesh. With their razor-sharp teeth and their iron-hard muscles of mastication it took less than the blink of an eye to cut through bones and tendons.
    Before Chubba managed to ram his knife into the first attackers guts half his hand was bitten off like a chunk of soft kharkusian butter. The second attacker had managed to drive his teeth deep into Chubbas left shoulder. And even though one of his mates separated the grey head from the creepy torso with one skilled swing of his axe, the head was still stuck at the shoulder for moment until the last power drained out of the open veins and the grip of that jaw got loose. Chubba shook it off and rejoined the battle, even though he could not use his left side any more.
    While they moved further into the dark realm of the shadows attrition grew stronger within his squad. One after the other drew first blood and got blessed with at least minor injuries. When they finally came to the core of the tunnel system every second brother was dead. Ripped to shreds and lost in the darkness.
    And now the centre of this darkness gave birth to the horrific nemesis of the kharkush. A tall human-like beast covered in a cloak made out of pure shadow brought death to even the strongest of Chubbas brothers with one single touch of his claws.
    Chubba was a trained orcen runner, this included running towards the enemy, not away from him like a coward.
    With his left arm still being no use he tightened his right hand around the shaft of his axe. He took a run-up and with an heroic jump he was landing next to the beast, swinging his axe into its side.
    An unknown pain flooded trough Chubbas body and he fell to the ground in agony.
    In this very moment no one else but the Strongest Son entered the room and charged at the foe. One swing with the mighty Axe of the Son and the beasts head flew through the scenery.

    The Strongest Son is helping Chubba onto his feet, smiling and with deep respect for that simple soldiers courage.
    Together with the dwarfs and trolls they are hunting down the last shadows.
    Then the treasure gets split and the Strongest Son fixes the head of the beast onto one strange shaped staff he found in the caves.
    Victory is theirs, peace is assured, soon they will return home.
     
  15. Tyrs

    Tyrs King

    Joined:
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    684
    Location:
    Northern Virgina
    I'd join that social group!

    I'll have orders in within the hour.
     
  16. hbar

    hbar Constant

    Joined:
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    1,307
    Location:
    Wisconsin
    Sjörá and the horr'r

    Spoiler :
    Sjörá contemplated the base of Nifl'fjall, the Twilight Peak. She disliked the dual roles of prophet and queen, but ever since the attack in the Kaer, she knew there was no separating them. As she began the familiar ascent, she allowed her mind to go back to that day before the earth clock fell.

    She was only twelve, barely a child by troll standards. Her father, leader of the Bald'r clan and current Konung'r of the kaer, was at the central chamber directing the troops. The ice dome was thin enough in spots that a breach was considered imminent, and every clan was required to send patrols. Though the horr'rs numbers were dwindling, the remaining ones were assaulting the dome with renewed ferocity, as if they were aware of their impending banishment.

    She had gone to the dome that night, to see the ice and the brave trollkyn soldiers. Her father's stock of frost teeth from the kaer's shield of Pure Ice had intrigued her from the moment she was allowed to see them, and the dome's edge was her favorite playground. She arrived in time to see a band of nervous pik'rs march by, their polearms held at the ready. As they rounded the corner out of sight, she crept up to the dome. She placed her hand against the cooling comfort of the ice, and marveled at the mists that formed at the contact. When the rock resting just outside the dome opened its eyes, she didn't even have time to register how strange it was for a rock to see, let alone move with such speed.

    The horr'r reared back and let out a terrible scream. With a mighty blow that was felt across the kaer, it sent an obsidian fist through the weakened ice and grabbed the little troll girl who had released it from the paralysis rune. Although it had not feasted for nearly a century, the beast of rock and hate took a moment to gloat over its prize. In that moment, Sjörá's mind filled with despair and agony, and she knew she had doomed her entire kaer. As her breath was squeezed from her lungs, she cried out; not to her father or the patrolling trolls, but to Mul'kjrn. Time seemed to stop around Sjörá and the horr'r, and neither could move. Frost began to form around the stone fingers of the beast. Frost turned to ice, and ice to crystal. For a span that seemed to Sjörá to last an entire season, they were both frozen in place as the crystalline ice spread to envelop the last great horr'r in Niflheim.​

    Sjörá focused her mind on the present. The last part of the climb was the most treacherous, and though the cold did not touch her, even Mul'kjrn's chosen could find their fate on the sharp rocks below. Pulling herself over the final cliff, she strode to the altar she had built so many years ago. As she knelt to the ground, she cried out, "Mul'kjrn! I am here, as you command."

    The voice, slow and deliberate, echoed back in her mind. "My child. We have much to discuss."
     
  17. Tyrs

    Tyrs King

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    684
    Location:
    Northern Virgina
    A Tale of Silence and Thunder


    In a small mining hamlet outside of the city of Nozkam there lived a family with two sons; brothers as close as any two boys could ever be. They were as close as blood could ever bring them, and yet they did not share blood. Not even race.

    During the terrible raids by Shadows, a family of trolls was murdered, all but the youngest babe, which as mercy would have it was rescued by a neighboring family of dwarves, who adopted the young troll as their own child.

    It was assumed that the troll babe had suffered a trauma from witnessing his parents death, because he never once spoke a word, and seemed slow to understand, but clever with his hands, so they named him Silence. The slowness and the lack of speech made the troll lad a bit of an outcast, all except for his adopted dwarf brother, Molhir.
    The two were inseparable throughout their childhood, but soon they grew up, Molhir to a good dwarven stature of four foot six inches and Silence to a slouching ten feet tall. When the army came recruiting for brave soldiers to end the Shadow threat, Molhir joined the infantry, and Silence became a camp follower, doing odd jobs, chopping fire wood, working the bellows for the smiths.

    And so the stage is set.


    The Battle of Warrens​


    Molhir marched with the army, lockstep and shields at the ready, but it was hard to do so with a straight face while watching Silence skip like an overgrown child next to the army. They had met relatively little resistance from the Shadows, and being that he marched in the center of column, Molhir had yet to actually fight one, but he'd at least seen the bodies.
    Silence had enjoyed the trip; he seemed immune to the feelings of dread that filled the rest of the army as he merrily split firewood with a troll sized maul.

    Movement in the woods snapped Molhir out of his revere. Shadows! An ambush! As he took a breath to voice his warning, the sergeant bellowed out
    "Shield Wall! Divide to the flanks! Support Group, enter Turtle formation!"

    The training took over, Molhir snapped to his right and locked his shield with the dwarf next to him, spear out and resting on the shoulder of the dwarf in front of him. The shadows leaped out at the first line of speardwarves, only to be impaled on the points or bashed to the ground by a wall of shields. Mohir felt like he was going to be sick as he saw a shadow's skull and brain matter turn into a pulpy mess by a particularly savage shield strike, but he held his position firmly.

    ~----~

    Molhir finished throwing up after the battle. His stomach felt a little bit better, but his pride felt a whole lot worse. Silence offered him a bowl of what passed for soup in the army camp with a silent grin.
    "Don't you start with me too brother dearest"
    Silence stared at him with a chastened look on his face, and Molhir took the soup.
    "Sorry I snapped at you, I just don't really know how I'm going to get through a full battle if I vomit every time I see the insides of one of those monsters"
    Molhir stared at the soup for a brief moment, and handed it back to Silence.

    ~----~

    Finally! The Warrens, the source of the vile Shadows and the end of them is nigh!

    "Molhir! Your squad is to hold back and guard the baggage train!"

    Outwardly, Molhir cursed and lamented the lack of glory like the rest of his squad mates, but on the inside he praised the Stone for her mercy.

    The other squads locked shield and made their heroic march into the tunnels, side by side with the screaming, wild orc troops. Molhir was glad to let them have their glory, with any luck he wouldn't have to see any more blood for the rest of his days. The rest of his squad took turns between gambling and standing watch, but Molhir went looking for his brother, and was just barely in time to see Silence slip into the mouth of one of the shadowy tunnels.

    "Silence! No!"

    Molhir had no choice but to follow his surprisingly quick troll brother, into the shadows.

    ~----~

    Molhir may have been a dwarf, and grown up in a mining town, and so the underground held no fear for him, the darkness little enough of an obstacle. But dwarf tunnels made sense. There was a pattern. These tunnels made no sense to poor Molhir, and he became lost in a matter of moment, with no idea where Silence had gotten to.

    "I'm going to die here. I tried everything I could, and I'm still going to get eaten alive by monsters."

    One of the shadows on the wall coalesced into a more solid looking form and threw itself at the unaware Molhir. Claws and teeth shredded into his flesh, and he screamed like a little dwarf girl.

    The feeling of a coming wind.

    There was a whoosh and a crack and the shadow became a bloody smear on the wall, its tooth filled head exploded between the stone wall and a troll sized maul.

    Silence grinned dumbly at Molhir, then darted back down the tunnel.

    Molhir stared for a moment at the blood, and then where his brother had run off too. He vomited, then ran down the tunnel after Silence.

    ~----~

    Molhir had a much easier time tracking his brother now, as they reach the occupied tunnels all he had to do was follow the trail of annihilated bodies. Eventually they reached a chamber, where Silence stood staring at a locked battle, the dwarven troops holding back the shadows while a massive orc with a glowing axe battled a true Horror, its black cloak whirling, every creature it touched was hurled backwards, friend and foe a like.

    Silence charged it. And was batted back despite his massive size.

    Molhir ran to his brother, who for the very first time Molhir had ever seen, looked angry. Silence's first sound was a murderous howl that rivalled the loudest thunderclap Molhir had ever heard, picked up his dwarven brother, and threw him at the Horror.

    Molhir had never been so very terrified in his entire existence, as when he was hurtling through the air, as a monster from legend. Only by the grip of dwarf to scared to let go, was Molhir able to hold on to his spear, and only by the very luck of the Stone itself, did that spear erupt from the face of the back turned Horror.

    Molhir stood up, shaking for all he was worth, and the first sight to meet him are the bloodshot eyes of a furious Orc.

    "You stole my kill" he whispered deadly quiet.

    Molhir... wet himself.

    "Y-y-y-you c-c-can h-h-have it-t-t"

    The Orc took his great glowing axe, and removed the head of the Horror, then helping up a falling orc, cried out Victory!

    The Orcs swarmed around their leader, declaring him their savior and the greatest son or some such, and the Dwarven troops hoisted Molhir up on their shoulders, still not higher than Silence, cheering him the victor! His sergeant was there as well, and looked him dead in the eye,

    "I always thought you were a cowardly little sh*t, but you disobeyed my orders just to kill the Horror? You've got bigger stones than I ever knew!"

    On the march home and at the victory feasts the soldiers all told stories about Molhir, whom after the fierce battle cry they heard they named Thunder, how he leaped farther than any other dwarf could have to slay the Horror, and avenge his wounded troll brother, and how afterwords he stared the Strongest Son dead in the eyes! Then, in his modesty he told the Strongest Son that he could take the trophy! On the return they had found a tunnel, than no troop and marched down, but was filled with dead shadows, completely obliterated skulls, all done by one dwarf! He much have the strength of a troll!

    The legend of Silence and Thunder is born, but by no means over.
     
  18. hbar

    hbar Constant

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    :lol: Great stories, both of you. Good to see both sides of the battle, let's just hope that your civs never have to agree on which one is true!

    Seems everyone is getting their stories out before the update. Captive audience, I guess.
     
  19. Kyzarc Fotjage

    Kyzarc Fotjage Rise Up

    Joined:
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    Male
    Location:
    Western Washington
    Surly Sergeant, Dramatic Dream, and Malcontent Maiden
    Spoiler :
    “Sergeant Driftmere, you know the situation in the west with Throal. You what’s coming this way and why we need the vast resources that only Throal commands. We must go and help them, and because our own borders are secure I’ve decided to send four battalions to help Throal crush the Blackthreads. You’re going to be leading them. Now about the rou-”

    “No”

    “-te, you should… what?”

    “I mean no sir.”

    “Wh-why? I would think that this is something yo-”

    “With all due respect sir, I believe that this is an ill-conceived plan and leaves us wide open for an attack, whether from the Diabhal Iasc, the Ul’dar, the Aifons, or even, gods forbid, Them. If I’m right then I’d be best used here rather than abroad. I refuse to take part in such a gambling with the lives of my men.” And he left, leaving sharad sputtering in anger

    “The nerve of that, that insubordinate piece of…” Sharad regained control of himself. “Hah, maybe it’s better that he stays at home, where he won’t cause any problems. Bastard.”



    Sharad stood in a vast cave, candles stretching out into the distance. “Hello?” he called out

    “Hello-ello-ello-lo-lo-o-o” the echoes came back.

    “Okay, creepy cave” Sharad looked around again and headed towards a spot of light brighter then the background candlelight. As he passed by candles he saw figures hunched over them, ghostly specters. He approached one “Hello?”

    It ignored him, completely focused on its candle. Sharad waved his hand through it to no effect before shrugging and continuing on his journey. An indeterminate time later, possibly minutes, possibly years, he came across a crone in front of a large bonfire. She turned to him and gasped. “Who, who’re you? And what are you doing here?”

    Sharad faded, becoming unfocused, part of the shadows. She squinted and her hand blurred, grabbing him by his collar and lifting him a foot into the air. “I asked you a question youngster. Don’t you go trying to disappear on me!”

    Sharad was deeply surprised, no one can see him if he didn’t want to be seen. Something was wrong. He faded deeper, almost losing himself in vagueness. She slapped him, hard. The pain instantly brought him back. “Answer me!”

    He was shocked into answering “I-I’m Sharad Arunson Darktooth. Thane of Achat, leader of its people.” He regained his composure “And who are you to handle me?”

    “You’re certainly a cheeky bastard. I’m Achat and you’re no son of mine. Where are you from?” Her eyes puncturing him

    “Far away” He croaked back

    She dropped him to the ground “Impertinent brat. I take it you’re here for a prophecy? Of course you are, every up and coming seer has come to Mama Achat for guidance”

    Sharad rubbed his throat and straightened his collar, unsure how to react. She glared at him for several minutes before suddenly punching him in the forehead. “Sonufa-” Sharad exclaimed before being interrupted. The crone started to chant in a sing-song voice

    “You’re journey is dangerous and you’re goal is suicidal. You will have to sacrifice much more than yourself, all you have created and will create will be destroyed utterly. Your trickery and lies will be laid bare, leaving you helpless. If you succeed then all will revile your name, but if you fail in the final moments then there will be none left. The help of one you think dead must be gained, the remnants of the Magus must be fended, and that which is shattered must be reforged. Only then will you be capable of bringing the Mountain to the Prophet and surviving long enough to triumph.” And she bucked forward, almost landing in the fire. Sharad listened in a stunned silence. She reopened her eyes and glared in shock and anger at him. Sharad began fading again, leaving the cave entirely “You’re going to try to ki-!?” but Sharad was already gone. “Gods help us all.”

    Sharad jerked awake, beads of sweat appearing on his face. He looked at the corners of the room fearfully, not knowing why.



    Alari stood in an ally, tears of anger still apparent on her face. Those damn sheep! They listened to his every word, not suspecting a thing. The commoners loved him, the nobles were scared of him, and the Council was ineffectual. There had to be someone who hated him as deeply as she, to take him on alone wasn’t a task she relished. She spotted Sergeant Driftmere passing by, cloak brought up to ward away the incessant rain. Shadows all across her body changed, deepening in places while almost disappearing in others, all making her form more flattering. She stepped out of the ally seductively “Sergeant Driftmere!”

    He turned “Who cal-” and was silenced upon seeing the beautiful gnome.

    “My dear sergeant, there is something I must discuss with you. It deals with our ‘glorious’ leader” She said, slinking towards him

    “I’m not allowed to ta-” He started

    “Sergeant, just here me out.” She said, slowly circling him. “About Sharad, I know that you and him aren’t on the best of terms” Driftmere started to interrupt “There is no need to be coy, I know of your argument earlier today. You and I both know that he isn’t what he appears. He is a threat to the pe-” and Driftmere grabbed her throat.

    “There is no need to continue, I know what you will ask of me and I refuse. He is a lying bastard, but he has done nothing but help the Achatin. You speak of treason.” And he dropped her to the ground, marching off through the rain.

    She massaged her throat, kneeling in the driving rain. She will have to do this alone.

    wow, that's five stories almost consecutively.
     
  20. Diamondeye

    Diamondeye So Happy I Could Die

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    Dancing in the Dark
    I liked that one, Tyrs :lol: It was epic!
     

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