Oh Gods why have you abandoned me! I'm falling, my Griffon I can't control! The Divine Gateway has closed! Why have you denied me access to Sanctus!
There! I shall try to land by the Mushroom forest! Please Griffon...oh God please allow us to land safe!
Damn! My Griffon, her neck has snapped...poor God damned creature...least I'm still alive...for now.
I can hear it in the distance, the storm. I can feel its presence in the air and it's drawing closer.
I need to arm myself, God knows what else has been abandoned in this forsaken land.
Ah brilliant an abandoned chest! Some armour that fits! A sword too! I can defend myself! I've been lucky I've not came across any creatures yet!
Ugh more thunder, I think it's getting closer. I can see the edge of the purple cloud in the distance. Where should I go?
Been walking for some time now, there is nothing, not even a bird.
Ahhhhh! I heard footsteps! “Hello!” Who is there?! A Human! “I thought I was all alone!” What's this!?! He's trying to kill me! Why! Oh why is he behaving so monstrously! “STOP!” Forgive me Gods! I did it! Slit his throat, that poor man, a quick death at least...Right...I must carry on.
Gods please forgive me. I had to kill 5 more! I don't know what I'm supposed to do! Where have I to go!
HELP GODS PLEASE! The purple clouds surround me now by just a few hundred meters! It encircles me! The volume of the thunder it runs through my body! I'm terrified! There is nowhere to go! All I see is purple!
I'm on my knees now! I beg Gods please! Forgive me! Forgive me of all my wrong doings! The storm is just meters away! Oh Gods what's going to happe---Gahaaarrggghhhhhh..
to an end and winter is just around the corner. The first snowflakes knock
gently on the windows and the fires are stoked in the fireplaces while parents
tell their kids creepy Halloween stories. It rains a lot and the roads to the
village are muddy and slippery. In the evening the fog comes up and you can see
the distant lights of lanterns illuminate the paths gently. At this time of
year only few travellers come to the villages. It's dangerous because Night
Wisps guide many travellers into the moors and make them disappear.
the dangers with which every child in the bogs grew up with. Night Wisps are
little biting beasts, however, they can be chased away quite quickly. Also
wolves and other animals do not pose any
serious danger to the inhabitants. However, there's something in the moors,
something truly evil. You can't put it into words, because nobody knows exactly
what's really happening – but it does happen! Children disappear and are not
found again. Not even their bodies, they're just gone. The parents look for
them for hours, sometimes the whole village helps with the search. So far, unfortunately, without success.
My father was
born in one of the 13 villages in the moors. This is why I've been
investigating these mysterious cases for three years now. I started when I was
22 years old. My parents were scared and we moved to the big city, although it
is not safer there, but at least no children disappear.
Maybe that is
the reason why I don't have any magical talents or am especially good at
archery. I am also not gifted in the handling of the sword and the professions
in the cities seem rather boring to me. However, I am a survivor and hence an
adventurer. You don't make much money and it's dangerous, but it's fun. One
lives and experiences, that's all I need.
That is also
the reason why I was in one of these villages, which should turn out to be my
worst adventure. I was in a village named Torrsch. It lies very far in the moor
and is known for rare fungi with healing effects. A girl named Linda disappeared
from that village. I was looking for her, just as the year before that I was
looking for a little boy in an other village. In the previous year the villagers
told me everything they could gather about the disappearance of the children. Every
year a child disappears from a village, but never from the same village as the
year before. It is only when a child has been abducted from all 13 villages
that the cycle begins anew. The children go to bed and cannot be found the next
day. There is a villager who claims that they are always abducted at exactly
3:10 a.m. on 31 of October. He claimed to have seen it with his own eyes. They
have also noticed that the Night Wisps disappear when a child disappeared. From
my point of view this is a good hint, because this behaviour is not normal for
these little nasty creatures. So I caught one of the Night Wisps and locked it
in a glass to observe what would happen if a child disappeared. The Night Wisp
flew against the glass wall over and over again; always in a particular
direction. So I decided to use the Night Wisp as a kind of compass and see
where it would bring me. After a few minutes on foot, the Night Wisp stopped
and floated motionless in the glass. I looked around and saw the other Night
Wisps - all hovering around a stone from which a greenish light emanated. On
the stone lay the little girl, she didn't move anymore. I hurried to her. She
stared at me. Her eyes wide open with fear, big an dark. Her head twitches in an
unnaturally slight twitch. I reached out for her and was frozen with terror. I
expected to find a child and not a monster! She had the body of a big spider. Eight
black, hairy legs twitched wildly around, the child´s head on the body of the
spider. She looked at me with her big black eyes. Green, thick saliva dripped
from the limbs onto the stone. Those black eyes and spider legs cast me under
their spell. Only a loud scream teared me out the paralysis. Suddenly the
spider with the child's head leaped towards me with a furious speed. I dropped
the glas and ran for my life. It was only then I recognized all the spiders in
the trees. They also had childrens heads on their backs.
I raced to
the village where the child disappeared. There was no trace of the spiders any
more. On the next day I went back to the city´s tavern and wrote a letter to
all the adventurer out there. Maybe there was someone who could defeat the
If you are an
explorer – be warned! Those spiders are the scariest thing in the bugs,
however, there might be even worst monsters out there.
Frozen Empress (Guild Leader)
User: StarDinoEntry: The Lavender tintI was traveling towards a cave to meet up with my party when i came across a bard with tattered and bloodied clothes and a weird purple gooey substance dripping down his body
"I must hurry there is little time, for its following me", confused i had to ask what he was talking about. "I will explain so you can warn others but i must hurry for the time we have is limited."
"There were ten of us, a bard, that’s me, a paladin, a ninja, a priest, a summoner, a cartographer, a ranger, and a princess, who i admittedly had come to become close friends with, and her two guards. Our group leader Alex, that's the tank, got a job to help the princess with an emissary mission to another kingdom that was past a mountain that was known for large creatures and legendary monsters. So after asking the explorer if there was a safer way he said" he changed his voice to that of a Goblins "well we could move through the forbidden canyon that goes through the mountain range. I myself have never been thru it, but I know that it is most likely safer than the Mountains and shorter than walking around."
the air itself grew cold and the atmosphere grew heavy, as he spoke he was interrupted by the sound of laughter, I thought to myself that it must be some witch playing tricks on me.
"IT'S COMING FOR ME, IT WONT LET ME ESCAPE!" Wanting to know more i calmed him down stating its it's probably nothing. "No, no your right it must just be some mischievous spirits. Ok, ok so as I was saying. We set off into the valley to be met with an old man tattered bloody and covered in this mysterious substance screaming about something, we took it as some fool who ventured along into a dangerous place as many novice adventures do and we pushed forward."
"With no more than 10 minutes into the valley the earth shook, collapsing the walls onto the entrance, so we trapped we moved deeper, 1 hour went by and our tank started hearing this weird laugh, muffled and distorted, 2 hours later and the rogue and the ranger began seeing things, they described the apparitions as frozen, lifeless faces, 3 hours later and it was pitch black with a slight lavender taint to the sky. Then I heard it, the princess heard it, everyone heard it, one word, spoken in a voice of pure hatred and disgust, muffled like it was under a stone, the word we all heard was..."
at that moment a dark shadow with a lavender tint covered the sky, followed by a wicked and glutenous voice echoing the words "FEAR" all the sudden the bard vanished leaving a faint cry of distress and a small cloud of dust in his place. the voice grew louder as a face started to appear deeper in the tree line "agony."
I knew something was awry, so I started to retreat. All the sudden I felt something grabbed me, pulling me ever closer to the face, and then I heard the voice once again this time thundering out the words "I AM FREE!" unable to move and unable to breathe with the air getting colder and thicker around me cried in a faint voice asking who was there,
the face came into full version, it was someone I knew, it was my wife my loved one, with a dead and lifeless face, the soulless mandibles of the jaw moved announcing."I am the monument to all your Fears"
I awoke in my silk bed drenched in sweat, next to my wife. I thought to myself “was it a dream or something else?,” as I stood up I noticed that I was struggling to move, the sweat was not water but a purple goo.
Entry: Slayer's Fate - Nightmares
He hears a distant voice that somehow seems familiar…
“Don’t lose yourself in…”
And it’s gone. For a moment Snatch is perplexed but is shortly distracted and lulled into contentment as the the leaves of orange and yellow dance through the brisk air. His daughter was charging through them in delight with their dog, Thrasher, barking playfully at her heels.
“Da’ - watch this!”
She scoops up crimson leaves into her hands and cups them close to her lips.
“I’m a dragon! RRRRAAAAHHHH!” she yells as she blows the leaves out from between her hands so that they spray forth like a breath of fire. Snatch chuckles.
“Very scary…” he says while petting Thrasher gently on the head.
“You’re not scared - you liar. A bet you wouldn’t even be scared of a real dragon,” she said proudly. “What are you scared of, Da’?”
Snatch pondered on this simple question for awhile. A dragon would be fearsome and overwhelming… but was it the dragon that would be scary or the thought of what a dragon could do?
“What scares your Da’ the most is any possibility of you or Nilak being harmed… that’s why I have to make sure I protect and care for you both.”
“What about Thrasher?” The loyal dog’s ears perked up when he heard his name and he looked up at the Orc child expectantly.
“I’ll make sure he’s safe too,” Snatch assured her.
Snatch and his daughter were coming up to their dwelling but something was amiss. The door was ajar and slashed - ominously swinging on a single, unbroken hinge. Something about this seemed familiar.
“Shhh...Move. To the old log,” Snatch said as he quickly rushed his daughter along.
“Stay hidden here with Thrasher, understand? Not a peep. I have to go inside and find your Ma.”
“...Okay” she said grimly while hugging Thrasher’s neck.
Snatch pulled out his daggers and approached the door. He was cautious but also anxious and worked quickly through the entrance hall into the main room around the corner. Snatch could smell blood and fear and dread raced through every muscle of his body. The room was trashed with chairs, plates, and baskets broken strewn about and spattered with blood. Puddles of blood which had no carpet or stray cloth to sink into were still slowly rolling across the wood floors. There was no body.
“Nilak!” Snatch yelled. Panic began to rush his mind as he then heard Thrasher barking outside.
And a scream.
Snatch whirled around but the blood seemed to animate and latch on to him - pulling him back. He grasped frantically at the walls to pull himself away. The sound of Thrasher’s barking had been replaced by high pitched whine and yelp…
and then... silence.
Snatch could only hear himself sobbing. This had happened before. It was in the past - why is he reliving it?
Snatch closed his eyes. He already knew the end of this nightmare. When he opened them again the grasping blood was now phantasmal chains. In front of him - Ezmer was hoisted up on spikes of shadow. Her body hopelessly torn and truly lifeless. He recalled this was the night they met. For some reason though - unlike before - Ezmer wasn’t waking up this time. Snatch felt like he was choking.
“Hey there… come back to me... You have to get through this!”
Snatch opens his eyes again and this time he can see and remember the truth. They had just entered the Dreamscape and Ezmer had tried to warn him his conscious may fade into a dream… or a nightmare. The scene around him still seemed surreal. A gray and dull road with all manner of broken objects floating about. His eyes fixed themselves on the human mage so he could focus on something that felt real.
“Glad to have you back… seems like whatever you saw really kicked you in the gut.”
Ezmer tried to lighten the mood with her usual jabbery but she couldn’t hide sincere concern for Snatch’s mental state. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I think so…”
Ezmer sighed. She looks down the seemingly endless road.
“Don’t worry, I briefly lost it for a second too. Even though I’ve been here before, it’s easy to become Lost.”
“Maybe I’m still Lost. You’re not this nice,” Snatch said while tapping a floating wooden toy boat, causing it to spin. The toy was cracked and a strange ethereal substance clung to it.
“...It just seemed… I’ve never seen you scared before. That’s all. If you’re back to normal I’ll go back to normal too.”
“Let’s just finish up here and get the hell out… what in Verra is this stuff? You know where we are here?” Snatch said trying to focus on the task at hand. He didn’t know how much time had already passed.
“I call this the Broken Road. I.. don’t know what it used to be. That stuff you see clinging to everything… that’s Corruption in the Dreamscape. Noc always told me this place was beautiful. That the Dreamscape contained all the wonderful ideas and memories and hopes of the world. It was the God of Creation’s paradise. An indescribable Dream. But somehow the Calamity even permeated this place. The Corruption is everywhere here. It feeds on the negative thoughts, hatred, and fears of the world. That’s why you saw what you did. This place will try to evoke negative emotions from within you. Especially fear. Are you ready?”
“Yeah… At least you got nothing to worry about. You can’t die.”
Ezmer’s face darkened..
“I experienced a few years worth of nightmares my first time here… because my body can’t die I could become Lost in the Dreamscape forever - as long as my phylactery is never destroyed.”
Snatch realized he said something careless.
“Well, lucky for you - I’m the Snatch who breaks in and breaks out wherever he pleases. Not gonna let some Dreamscape ruin that.”
Ezmer smiled. “That’s the spirit - Let’s get going.”
----------- End -----------
As a child, my friends and I would oft’ wander from our lessons in search of adventures among the ruins to the south - great stone circles, jutting out of the earth like archways built for gods. I fondly recall many an afternoon spent pondering their meaning, imagining their construction by peoples long forgotten.More pressing, it seemed, were the affairs of my family’s estate. Even youthful inquiries of purely scholarly intent regarding our most ancient origins had always been met with swift disdain, for my father had relentlessly reminded me that of less import was our past, than was the future of our house’s name. And so, in the face of mountains of correspondence and domestic responsibilities, I promptly ceased my boyish pursuits down the hills to those great ancient Gates - for boys grow quickly into men, and soon those men yield boys of their own, and then must dutifully retire such trivial pursuits as imagination. Those such pursuits, my aging body happily bequeathed to my sons.
After all, the spring thaw had flooded the crypts beneath the manor, and so insurmountable appeared the task of clearing the muck and ooze that even I set aside my finery and labored to assist the commoners. I do not recall the name of the servant whose shout called me to that long-forgotten nameless antechamber, but the chamber itself haunts my nightmares, to this day. It was decrepit - more mud and caved-in earth, than stone. Roots hung from ceilings like coarse and wiry drapes, and slowed my explorations by more than a quarter hour. Those tunnels seemed endlessly labyrinthine, though the cartographer that would later record them for posterity assured me that I wandered through merely a few rooms before discovering the tomb.
The sarcophagus itself was humble, a wooden box whose extensive yet harried carvings were suggestive of a hasty funeral. The funerary offerings, however, suggested that the man had been well loved. The riches appeared immediately foreign, many adorned with a language I could neither read, nor pronounce. There was a single symbol, scrawled at the end of a fine looking journal of sorts, that caught my eye and held it. Three concentric arches, and a radiant stone at their center.
The tome was the only item I would not leave buried, as it called to mind my questions of so long ago. It took the scribes nearly two winters to fully decipher it’s text, and it is this journal’s final three entries pertaining to a reoccurring dream, a stolen lifetime, and some unspeakably malevolent demon that I feel compelled to inscribe in the common tongue. If not for myself, then for the sake of my children, whom I have since forbade from journeying to the ancient Gates.
In a dream my ancestor wandered alone, an outsider amidst bustling crowds. He recognized only a select few, but could sense that each of them intimately recognized him. Yet none would speak. All looked only on in a dreadfully mournful silence, as if he were naked and ugly before them, and only he were unaware. In the cold detachment of their gazes, he perceived an intimate knowledge of all the secrets he suddenly felt he’d so poorly buried. Familiarity, inturn, bred only shame, but still he endeavored to smile. None would smile back. He retreated, and wandered aimlessly till he awoke.
The next night, the dream began the same, but my ancestor ventured further. He was desperate for recognition, for acceptance, for forgiveness. He begged in doorways, and stared through windows. None would speak a word. The lordling he was had nevertheless been cast the exile.
On the third night, my ancestor foolishly sought to chase some semblance of redemption. He pushed past the crowds, the doorways, the windows. Soon, he found himself alone in a cold alley. It was dark, nearly too dark to see, yet he perceived a maiden’s inviting smile. Parched for compassion and warmth, he smiled back, but then realized that the maiden smiled not with him, but at him. The maiden ventured deeper into darkness and, foolishly, my ancestor pursued.
She led him to a frozen theatre, before she vanished. The performers each stood perfectly statuesque. The petrified audience stared in silence and my ancestor thought them all to surely be dead. Somewhere a withering stranger laughed, and my ancestor sat with him. He surveyed the room and, in the corner, found something.
A fetal corpse, the size of a toddler, it’s cranium collapsed as if it had been dashed against the rocks. It was motionless as the “dead.” Its hands cradled a rusting dagger. He’d pointed to it, and spoken to the stranger:
“Look,” he’d said, “The Hanging One got them.”
The man beside him had laughed, and casually spoken the truth. “Lad, we all have Hanging Ones, in the end!”
He then looked back upon that wretched corpse, unmoving, unbreathing, unwatching. He suddenly understood. He’d find no redemption, no forgiveness. The theatre’s “dead” were not dead. he was.
He knew he was in hell, and that his Hanging One had sent him there.
A rational mind could be tempted to dismiss these words as fevered fancy, if not for a final detail. The record of the third night’s dream, the scribes swore to me, was dated Sixty-and-Three years after the record of the second.
My ancestor had dreamed this dream in a child’s cot, and awoken in his death-bed. A lifetime, stolen; taken by the so-called Hanging One. As he lay dying, my ancestor wrote of a great exodus, and described seeing those gates fall to the earth. Are they connected? Is this Hanging One what my ancestors fled? These conjectures I deem too dangerous for even myself, let alone my two young sons, whom I now tuck in with care and worry each and every night. For my rekindled imagination shall forever beg the question: will my sons find Hanging Ones, as well?
User : Artheeria
There wasn’t anything like getting to go out on a hunt. Just
the two of them. Nedistri treasured the sun shine, the breeze, the play of
golden light through green leaves and alighting on a leaf covered forest floor.
It was home. Familiar and comforting. Having her brother
Ticon with her just made it feel all the more like this was the place she
belonged. Hunting was one of the things they’d done when they were younger.
When their world was smaller, limited to just their patch of the woods and the
elegant, tiered house they lived in. Quaint, by civilized standards, but it was
all Nedistri had ever known or cared to know.
Now that they were older, Nedistri and Ticon always pushed
beyond what they knew. Where they’d been before. Emboldened by the presence of
one another and confident that together, they could take on the world. Up until
that point, they’d not come upon anything they couldn’t tackle. Even bears they’d
been able to scare off.
It was Ticon that called for the halt though, nearly
tripping up his sister as she darted around a tree and almost into him. “Something
through the trees, I swear. Just over there.”
She’d never admit his eyes were better than hers, but he was
the one with the family bow. With a vague gesture, Nedistri let him take the
lead. Probably another mama bear and her cub, dozing. Or one of the giant
glow-shrooms they’d found a patch of the other day. Certainly something worth
stopping for, but not... not worth being so tense over.
Nedistri heard it before she saw it, was pulled down by
Ticon before even that. Both py’rai elves were dressed to blend in with the
forest around them, green and brown armor as dappled as the forest floor, so it
would’ve taken sharp eyes to find them. If they were even looking.
Through the thicket of trees were black, glinting shapes
moving. Too many legs attached to a thorax, but atop it, twisted and wrong, was
a human torso. Too many eyes were shoved on a gray skinned face with a mouth
split wide with mandibles. A monster of human and spider mix. She didn’t know
where to start.
There were three of them being attended by smaller, oily
furred creatures chittering in quiet gibberish. She had no idea what they were
saying, or where they’d come from. “We should report back...” This was the sort
of thing others, fighters, mages...
dealt with. Not two young hunters in the woods.
Ticon seemed enthralled though. Too disgusted and fascinated
to want to leave. “We can handle this. They’re just spiders,” he answered back.
She shoved him, scowling. “No. We go.” Outnumbered and out-legged,
Nedistri wasn’t about to risk a confrontation.
Ticon fired before she could protest. He was always so quick
with the bow. Accurate to the point. Hitting one of the spider-hybrids right in
the face, splitting one of the red, crystalline eyes. The screech that poured
from the mandible mouth was more horrifying than the creature itself.
Nedistri gritted her teeth, drew her slender longsword, and
took up a defensive position slightly in front of her brother. Leave it to him
to put her in a situation she’d not wanted in the first place. Just like with
A second shot was let lose quickly after the first, flying
past and hitting the second spider-creature who had turned in their direction.
The oil monsters were on their way though, directed with clawed points from the
The third spider ascended into the trees. “Up!” Nedistri
warned as she engaged the small black creatures. They didn’t appear to have
faces or eyes, just round, furred heads that opened to jagged, teeth filled
Nedistri was quick. Moving and slicing. She didn’t know what
the little beasts might be weak to, where a soft spot might be, but swiping off
their little heads seemed to do the trick.
Though her fight was brutal, and quick, she was feeling good
about it. Her foes dispatched, two spiders already out of the fight. Maybe he
was right. Ticon... Nedistri returned to her brother’s vantage, where he’d been
firing from before, but he wasn’t there.
He must’ve moved to get a better shot. Quiet and quick as
she could, she scouted around the small area the fight had taken place. Looking
for him, any sign of him. Where he might’ve gone. What might’ve... happened.
She hadn’t heard anything. No cry for help, no struggle... just her own fight,
which hadn’t even been long. Hadn’t taken any time at all.
Nedistri searched for him until the sun started to set.
Called out his name, no longer caring if she pulled other monsters to her. She’d
slay them all if it meant she knew where he’d gone. What had happened.
She continued to search, and decided she would not give up,
until she found him. Even if it meant killing every monster that had invaded their
“Greetings Traveler, let me tell you a tale.” Said a man in a
yellow robe, his skin pale. He sat on a stump twisted and gnarled. At a crossroads
between three nodes he simply smiled.
The Vaelune merchant, cautious stood silent and still. Her mule
whimpered in the evening chill. “For coin of course, I need to eat.” The
merchant was relieved. She took a seat. Hand in pocket she clutched a pact coin.
She was confident she could fight off any threats that might join.
“East of here in a grand city, built on trade and lies…” the
story weaver pulled his hat down as if to cover his dark eyes. “The miners
delved too deep, and awoke an ancient bane of people. A massive white spider of
unquestionable cunning and evil. An unwavering servant of death.” The merchant
took a shuddered breath.
“The forest grew impassible with black webs and the stench
of the dying. A call was sent out. Many ventured forth to slay the creature or
die trying. ” A burst of wind stirred the grass but the man’s clothes remained
unmoved. “The creature was clever and laid out traps. All but six fell before
meeting their foe.”
The merchant shuttered and noticed that she felt rather
alone. The crickets and birds whose voices had accompanied her so far had all
gone. She wondered if he had anything she’d like to take for her own.
The man cleared his
throat with a sound like metal on glass, “They cornered the creature and
fought, in a clearing filled with mist and the scent of rot. The clash of sword
against flesh. The fizzle of magic against web. The smell of smoldering ash. Both
sides were heavily injured, the hero’s hope was only a thread. Without a word
the creature vanished.”
”A mage in yellow teleported after it blindly, foolishly chasing
his deadly quarry. He ran between webbed willows and leapt over a bubbling stream. Pausing only briefly when he heard his
friends scream. He turned to go back. Then stopped for the world was silent. Not
even a bird chirped or insect sang, and then a twig snapped breaking the quiet.”
The man seemed to savor the story. He continued with a
hissed breath. “The mage spun once more, ready to strike. His face contorted in
worry. Before him was an orc he thought he knew. ‘Greetings Traveler, let me
tell you a Tale.’ Said an orc in armor, his skin pale”, The merchants eyes
glazed over. Venomous fangs retracted from her arm, and from her limp grasp
fell her cleaver. A hulking spider moved its front legs in circles, part of a
dark ritual. It said, perhaps to the mule, “The mage enthralled by the story
weaver, did not see his end coming. From his corpse the spider wove a new suit,
in which it looked quite stunning.” The merchants body rose into the air. With
a flash of light and ozone, two coins fell to the ground. One stayed where it
was and still lies there.
A merchant and her mule walked the empty trail, her eyes
dark and her skin pale.
"I think we're gonna take one more question. Thanks for being here with us tonight." Steven looks at his phone for discord "Were going to grab a question off.. twitch or discord?"
Jeff says "Whatever's closer. Discords fine." Jeff knowing all along Steven would of course choose Discord.
"We are gonna grab from a guy I've been seeing active in discord for a while. Decade Man. The question reads. Hey Steven.. with an exclamation point. Maybe I should say it more forcefully." Steven says.
Jeff laughing out "Sure".
"Hey Steven!" Steven yells. Blasting out the eardrums of many a poor lad and lady. Unbeknownst to him. Although the spike was harsh, there were only survivors.
Steven begins, "It's Decade Man. Im not a big fan of much. Mostly my mongooses and my mother.. but Ashes of Creation has piqued my curiosity. I am a bit of a renaissance man which has led me to admire your ships. What will the ships be like? Will water traversal be affected by nature? What are the classes associated with ship crews?"
"Wow Steven. That was a weird one.." Jeff said as he thought of how to implement mongoose into Alpha 2. "I know right?" Steven exhaled. He remained stunned for a second as the viewers waited in anticipation for the answer.
At that moment, Steven looked to his right with a look of: 'Should I be talking about this shiz right now'. And Jeff replied with a simple head nod from side to side. As if he was saying.. 'no'. With a simple head nod of his own, Steven began to surmise the answer to the question.
"First of all, Decade Man. I hope that you and your mother and pets are doing well and we really appreciate your thirst for game knowledge here at Intrepid. We at Intrepid like to think of ourselves as a family. Thats why we work hard to make games for fans like you. We are gamers ourselves who come from avid communities of gamers and really understand what it is and takes to make games." Steven said as he dove in to answer the question.
"We are happy you like our new ship system. We are currently working on our new ship system. It's great that we could add something like this. This will create a big part of our game world and deeply influence how node gameplay will work."
"I'm sure that everyone has seen online that there will be coastal nodes. These nodes will have a direct influence on our ship system. Although ship travel will be limited to water.." Steven retorted. A minor laugh from Jeff and the people watching behind the camera who nobody ever knew were there...
"If you know our caravan system, then you will know that a player or crew member or ai can steer the caravan. Much like that, the players will be able to steer the ships. This also means that crew members will be able to steer the ships. But I don't know... Maybe the ai will steer the ship if they are the right kind of NPC? Certainly players friends will be able to steer the ship, but I don't know if their NPC's can steer the ship. The NPC might even be a sea captain. Sea captain..NPC...Sea...C."
"The ships will be able to be run by players. How many players? We don't yet know" As Steven looked at Jeff. Jeff nodding his head from side to side. As if he was saying.. 'no'. Steven clearly receiving the signal, proceeded.
"Yup, no not too much information yet but we can tell you, we are working on it. And honestly guys, it looks beautiful. The water quality and the way the ships look and the certain classes..."
"Woah!" Jeff interrupted and he was clearly nodding his head from side to side. As if he was saying 'no'.
Steven continuing, "Either way, this has been a great stream for us tonight. I think we have a lot of support from our twitch and discord viewers... Um Jeff. How much time do we have left?"
"1 minute", Jeff replied.
"Well I think we're just gonna end it early tonight." Steven said
"Thank you all again from Intrepid Studios and goodnight."
And the answer was never found..
The end. Muhahaha
It was a dark, but calm night with a full moon shining down
on the water below. Quietly loading a
small boat was a short man in a full cloak and hood. While his face could not be seen, the rather
impressive long gray beard gave away the fact that he was a dwarf. A moment later, and the boat was loaded, and
the hearty dwarf pushed off the shore.
He began rowing as quietly as he could, directing the boat
directly away from the shore. The reason
for his stealthy sojourn across the water was unclear, as there were no other
creatures about. No man, beast, or bird
made any noise in the area surrounding this large body of water. Perhaps the pervading silence prompted his
decision, as if it would be disagreeable to break such quiet stillness. For a long time, several hours by his reckoning,
he quietly rowed across the still surface of the water. The water was like looking into a mirror, no
waves, no current, even his own rowing barely managed to disturb its placid
slumber. This was good he thought, as
with where he was going, he expected it to be anything but tranquil.
An old legend has circulated for a very long time amongst
those that tell tales and weave songs. Michael
had been a bard for longer than most, and he knew many epic ballads, tales of
daring do, or even the sad song of a lonely rider. The most interesting tale he knew though, he
had not repeated or passed along to any other in ages. The tale of a secret island upon a mammoth
lake, home to the storm giants and their king.
It was said that this mythical place was the most wondrous visage in
all of Verra, with treasures beyond imagining.
He had been working on piecing the truth of the legend for
as long as he could remember, it was ever his quest to be the first to find
this place. He finally found the clues
he needed when he spoke with a historian at a tavern called The Mighty Beard. A simple man in robes and sandals was a
scholar of the lore of Verra, including from the ancient times before the
corruption had exiled the great races. The
historian surprisingly knew of the storm giants as well, and eagerly divulged all
the lore regarding them he could, eventually expounding upon many subjects of
Verra, despite it not being asked.
Seemed that when this lore keeper got excited about Verra, he just
couldn’t stop talking.
Michael was beginning to wonder how long it would take to
row to the island, when suddenly the lake was no longer calm. A great storm had rose up and swallowed him
in, the waves chopping harshly, threatening to capsize his small craft. The brilliant moonlight was suddenly nowhere
to be found, and darkness set in immediately.
This was not an issue for his dwarven eyes though, and he could see
through the thick rain that large craggy peaks had appeared before him out of
the water, as if they had been invisible but a moment before. He had arrived!
Luck was truly with him, as the boat made it through the
storm and landed softly on a surprisingly calm beach. It was like having passed through the wall of
a hurricane to the calm eye in the center of the storm. In the distance he could see a great castle,
this was surely the home of the storm giant king. Quickly and quietly he made his way to the
castle and up the walls and had a look in the massive courtyard below. The courtyard was full of giants, laughing,
drinking, and having a great feast.
Roasting on a spit was a monstrous boar, easily the size of a shipping
caravan. While this was impressive, more
so was the sight of a throne of truly epic proportions, and the king that sat
upon it. The sight of this mountain of a
man, and the treasures that surrounded him was the kind of sight that happened
once in a lifetime. A sight that would
strike a man dumb. Oh, and how it had.
Michael had not noticed the gleaming yellow eyes watching
him from a nearby parapet. When the
beast shrieked and swooped at him grabbing him in massive claws he was fully
aware of the situation he was in. The wyvern
dropped him neatly in the lap of the king, who was clearly hungry from the
rumble in his stomach, and the look he was giving the roasting boar. In his surprise he flicked the newly
deposited dwarf off him like removing a bug.
This sent Michael flying into the roasting boar and falling through the
giant bonfire. Trapped in a fiery tomb
with freshly cooking pig juices falling upon him, Michael began to panic. Strangely, it didn’t hurt though, and the
juice smelled great, like fresh bacon.
With a start Michael Bacon awoke at his desk to the smell of
morning bacon cooking. He had fallen
asleep at his desk after a long night of rendering environments. Looking at his screen he saw that the email
he had prepared for Steven to ask for the “creation” of Bacon Island was still
there unsent. In reality he had already
made his island paradise of bacon and storm giants, just needed that official
ok before the boss unofficially found it in game. It was a great island, and he had worked
hard, surely Steven would ok this.
Steven sat reading his email and laughed to himself about
the very idea of a Bacon Island with storm giant parties. Verra was no place for such silliness. He promptly let Bacon know that the island
was out of the question, and baby bear backpacks too! Hell, even the tulnar weren’t a real
race. They were just a distraction to
deflect the community from obsessing over nodes part three.
Oh, what a nightmare!
Bacon sighed to himself and logged onto discord for comfort from the
community. Then he remembered, this was
just a forum story post. Steven would
never crush our dreams like that. Just a
story post …right?
Entry: The Legend of the Wailing Woods
It started as a whisper. The cool breeze that marked the beginning of harvest season. It grew slowly into a wailing as the wind swept through the trees. Dried leaves, already an amalgamation of deep browns and crimson, rustled as they scraped against each other. Limbs that had already been stripped clean clawed hungrily at the air, reaching for more than root could provide. The sinking sun shed what little light it could, but still the forest had begun to descend into shadow. Fighting against the growing darkness a small fire burned willfully as a handful of adventurers took their rest within its halo of warmth. Cloaks wrapped tight about them, the group tore savagely at the slivers of meat they had roasted upon the flames. Juices splashed steaming onto the thin grass they rested on with every bite, each adventurer shoveling down what they could before it grew cold. Beside them small piles of bones had begun to stack up. Though their hunger was sated they could not deny the incessant gnawing picking away at the back of their minds. The growing silence seemed to stretch out, but none of the party made to breach it first. Finally, the Niküa ranger tossed the small stick he was holding into the fire. The wooden spit crackled and popped as he stared into the jerking flames. He spoke, not even realizing he was whispering.
“Do nae worry, lads. We’ll find a cleric in tha village an’ return to dispel the poison magix on the morn.”
The dwarf lifted his eyes, but the blanket mood had been set and none of the others had the desire to accept their failure. The sound of rattling metal caught his attention. Behind him, inside a small cage, one of the “rabbits” they had captured still sat awaiting its turn over the flames. Its elongated teeth clicked together and it turned its gaze to stare at the dwarf. A shiver ran up his short spine as the beady black eyes of the creature held his gaze far longer than a creature should have. Pushing himself to his feet sore feet, he hobbled over to the cage and pulled his hand axe from its sling. The rabbit made no movement, merely opening its mouth and closing it again repeatedly. The dwarf swung the axe and its blade clattered loudly across the steel bars of the cage. Instead of retreating back farther in the cage, like he’d expected, the rabbit launched itself at him. Gnashing teeth sought to tear the metal away, and the dwarf fell back on his rear with a surprised grunt.
The large fighter of the group, a Ren’kai orc, laughed deeply at the dwarf’s fright. He stood and marched over before kicking the cage. The rabbit cried out in pain as it was bashed against the bars. The orc lifted the dwarf and went back to his seat, still laughing.
“Afraid of a small rabbit, tiny dwarf? Maybe we should head back now so you can find your safe bed.”
The dwarf let the snide remark slide, but he could not shake the fierce thumping of his heart. Looking back at the rabbit did not help, as it had retaken its original seat. Still staring. Still clicking its teeth. Even with the crackling of the flames nearby the dwarf could still make it out.
He had not noticed until now, but the wailing of the forest had grown louder. He picked up his cloak where it had fallen and began to wrap it around himself when he realized something else.
The wind was not blowing.
The other adventurers had begun to take notice, as well, each of them rising to their feet with confusion etched on their faces. Turning to the caged rabbit the dwarf squinted his eyes in concern.
“It ken nae be…”
While the dwarf watched the rabbit opened its mouth wider than before. A piercing scream erupted from its lungs. It was shrill and unending, a cry of desperation and rage. The wailing within the trees grew closer. It engulfed the campsite with macabre lamentation. One by one, rabbits emerged from the undergrowth. They encircled the small camp, razor sharp teeth glinting from the light of the fire. The adventurers drew or picked up their respective weapons, but each had realized the soft brown at the edge of the fire's influence was a sea of fur. A horde of teeth and claw descended upon the grim-faced group in a flurry of gnashing knives. Their screams of terror and pain were drowned out by the constant wailing, and they ended as abruptly as they’d begun.
A league away the local node village rested behind its newly fashioned walls. The villagers often tell the passing merchants to avoid what they colloquially dubbed the “Wailing Woods.” On exceptionally dark nights the wails can be heard across the entire village. No one knows the cause, but they do know one thing: Whomever is in the forest during a wailing night...does not come back.