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yes it's wrong to dump plot almirajs in a thread (low effort Danmachi stories)

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by minuseven, Feb 13, 2020.

?

More?

Poll closed Feb 22, 2020.
  1. yes

    16.7%
  2. yes?

    16.7%
  3. yes!

    66.7%
  4. no

    0 vote(s)
    0.0%
  5. no?

    0 vote(s)
    0.0%
  6. no!

    0 vote(s)
    0.0%
  7. only if you're going to take it seriously.

    0 vote(s)
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  1. minuseven

    minuseven Samsara

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    Subtitle: But I Don't Care.

    Behold. What happens when a person decides to just actually write all the weird ideas that come to mind during a fandom's obsessive phase. And post them. Because why not. They're all plot bunnies alrmirajs, not that original, not beta'd, many variants on a theme, cliché, canon-station-y, definitely not worth all the effort and incomplete.

    There's:
    • an untitled dungeons and dragons 5e thing in which Bell becomes a sort of gamer with that system
    • Mad Milk Drinker (title pending approval) in which a possibly SIOC joins Hestia post Black Goliath, having been trapped in the dungeon for years, also, dwemer.
    • Apostle (title also pending approval) in which Shinji Ikari wakes up in Orario after deciding he doesn't want 3I after all
    • -
    Enjoy, I suppose. Feed the Dungeon
     
    Last edited: Feb 15, 2020
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  2. Threadmarks: untitled D&D 5e x Gamer | Part 1
    minuseven

    minuseven Samsara

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    "AAAAAAAAAAHHHH-!!" CRUNCH.

    Part 1: Game? Over?

    "Aaa?"

    Bell Cranel blinked. He was… not dead? He raised his hands and patted his skull. Still there.

    "But the minotaur…"

    His head should be… not there.

    That was fine though, wasn't it? Being alive was good. Yes, he nodded to himself, the minotaur had just been a nightmare. He was going to get up and not be afraid of the dungeon.

    He was not in the room he shared with his goddess.

    Pure darkness surrounded him except for a circle of light, which his feet rested on.

    "... I'm not dead, right? Goddess?"

    Was this the God's Realm? He leaned forward to see if there was anything under the circle and his forehead hit something.

    "Ow."

    The circle was the edge of a barrier. Now he could vaguely see it. Letters appeared in the barrier, just above his head.

    >error.
    >error.

    "What?"

    He shuffled on his feet and since nothing else happened, touched the barrier with one hand.

    >error identified.
    >rebooting.

    He barrier flashed and Bell jumped back with a yelp. His back hit the barrier too. He was trapped. The letters flashed, then innumerable words and numbers faded in and out, before it returned to its original state.

    >loading.
    >no save found.
    >loading.

    The light pulsed and with a gentle chime several lists and numbers fell around him. "Character Creation?" He read out loud. "Step 1, Choose Race?"

    > Step 1
    > Choose Race
    > Human

    The others were similar. He tried pushing on a spot without numbers but he was still stuck. Finally, curiosity won out and he touched the first step with his hand. Another list appeared under it.

    >aarakocra
    >aasimar
    >bugbear
    >dragonborn
    >dwarf
    >elf
    >firbolg
    >genasi
    >gith
    >gnome
    >goblin
    >goliath
    >grung
    >half-elf
    >half-orc
    >halfling
    >hobgoblin
    >human
    >kenku
    >kobold
    >lizardfolk
    >locathah
    >orc
    >tabaxi
    >tiefling
    >tortle
    >triton
    >verdan
    >yuan-ti

    "I'm human…" so he touched the right word. A smaller list appeared in front of the first.

    >human
    >human (variant)

    He touched 'human' again. Nothing happened. "Hmm." What if he chose the different one? He touched it and saw some numbers and words change in his periphery.

    He wondered what would happen if he touched a different race. He couldn't help it. He was curious.

    "It won't do anything bad…" he told himself. "What about, uh, like Miss Eina?"

    He touched 'half-elf'.

    >wood half-elf
    >high half-elf
    >drow half-elf
    >aquatic half-elf

    “Is Miss Eina… she’s a wood half-elf, I think?”

    > Choose Race
    > Half-elf
    > Wood Half-elf

    The circle flashed brightly and something changed. Bell blinked. He swallowed. He touched his ears.

    They were pointy.

    "Eeeeehhhhh!?!?"

    What? What?! It had actually changed his race!? Magic? Could magic do that?

    He tugged at his ears. Definitely real.

    "Aaaaahhh, human, human, human!" He went back and chose the words for human. In a flash, he was back to normal.

    > Choose Race
    > Human

    "Uff! That was scary!" He covered his ears and collapsed to his knees. This weird place actually changed his race. Thank the Gods he could change it back.

    After calming down, he warily got up and eyed the lists surrounding him. What exactly was going on?


    Weeeee. I don't even know what I was thinking. Heeeey, technically, isn't Eina a half high elf? Funny that.
     
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  3. Threadmarks: untitled D&D 5e x Gamer | Part 2
    minuseven

    minuseven Samsara

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    So… Magic?

    Part 2: All the Options

    Bell Cranel took a deep breath. It looked like he was trapped in a powerful magic spell of some sort. So powerful it looked like the work of the Gods. It didn’t look like anybody was coming to help him. So the only thing he could do was maybe continue going through the lists?

    He turned around and quickly read what the lists were about. They’re steps, with choices.

    > Step 1
    > Choose Race
    > Step 2
    > Choose Class
    > Step 3
    > Determine Ability Scores
    > Step 4
    > Determine Character Details
    > Step 5
    > Choose Equipment

    Touching the steps unfurled lists, numbers, buttons and dials. “Wow.” It was a lot. Did it all affect him like changing his race had? And then, after the last step there was one final word.

    > Done

    Bell was very tempted to just touch that one and maybe get out. On the other hand, all of the options displayed around him aroused his curiosity. In the end, he couldn’t help it. The ability to see what he would be like if he’d been born a dwarf or an elf...

    > Choose Race
    > Dwarf
    > Mountain Dwarf

    A dwarf Bell was a lot like a human one, but shorter and stockier. He scratched his chin. Also, he had the beginning of a beard? He wished he had a mirror.

    Encouraged, he tried others. The dwarven choices were all, well, dwarves. The duergar one gave him nightvision and paler skin. He wondered where in the world they existed. There were many types of elves and half-elves, some as alien as the duergar. He giggled at his high elf self, imagining himself a elven prince, and gaped at the different eladrins. Halflings were pallum and gnomes weren’t spirits, strangely enough.

    He didn’t dare touch the names of monsters, like goblin and orc. Goliath was almost tempting. Would he become a titan like the monster rex? But he didn’t dare. He was afraid he’d forget what it was like to be human.

    He couldn’t find chientropes, werewolves or cat people on the list. But there were many names he didn’t know, and they were all exciting. The circle of light expanded and contracted under him as he went through the options.

    “Skree!?” Aarakocra were bird people!? Bird-shaped people? Bird monsters, harpies? Having wings was weird. Kenku were like that too, but they had no wings. Just lots of feathers. Tabaxi were either werecats or cat monsters.

    “Um?” Aasimar looked human. Genasi were magic humans. Firbolgs were dwarves? Maybe? “I don’t know.” Gith were like elves, but taller and sharper.

    “No.” Dragonborn were dragon people and he immediately chose another. Grungs were frogs. “Nope.” Locathah were fish. “No no no.”

    And tieflings were actual demons. “Errrrg! Human, human, human!”

    > Choose Race
    > Human

    He exhaled deeply. That was it, he was done. He wasn’t even going to try the rest of the races. At first it had been fun but now it was way too weird and scary. He wanted out.

    > Done

    The circle flashed red and something else popped up under the word he’d touched.

    >error.
    > Missing Fields



    In Danmachi all demi-humans are explicitly demi - human. So, like, not being even slightly human would be a very big no no for Bell. imho. Even though I kinda really want him to change race! That would be FUN. ahahah
     
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  4. Threadmarks: untitled D&D 5e x Gamer | Part 3
    minuseven

    minuseven Samsara

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    “Oh, come on!”

    Part 3: Is it Boring to Stay Human?

    Okay, there was no need to panic. Missing field? What was he missing? “Oh!” He realized. There were several steps whose lists didn’t have anything chosen. He had to go through all the steps before being done. Now he felt silly.

    “Okay, I’m human, so step two?”

    > Step 2
    > Choose Class

    >barbarian
    >bard
    >cleric
    >druid
    >fighter
    >monk
    >paladin
    >ranger
    >rogue
    >sorcerer
    >warlock
    >wizard

    Bell thought about the choices. They were all different types of adventurer, even if the names, like the races, weren’t all familiar to him. He could guess what most of them meant, but he didn’t think he fit into any in particular. Maybe rogue or fighter?

    “But Wizard sounds nice. If I get magic… that would be cool.” On the other hand, mages needed time to say their incantation, and Bell didn’t have a party to protect him. He felt like choosing something a bit different here probably wouldn’t hurt. But what?

    He thought of the heroes of the stories his grandfather told him, the ones he wanted to be like. With sword and magic, bright champions that defeated dragons and saved the girls. With that in mind, the best one was definitely: “The Paladin.”

    > Choose Class
    > Paladin

    Nothing seemed to happen. Rather, only another list appeared under his choice.

    > Choose Skill Proficiencies (2)
    >athletics
    >insight
    >intimidation
    >medicine
    >persuasion
    >religion

    “Skill proficiencies…” He scratched his head. Seemed straightforward. “Athletics is important.”

    > Choose Skill Proficiencies (1)
    >athletics
    >insight
    >intimidation
    >medicine
    >persuasion
    >religion

    “Oh! Two of them, nice! Then, medicine. That could be helpful.”

    > Choose Skill Proficiencies
    > Athletics
    > Medicine

    No more choices appeared, so he guessed he could do the next step. This one, he felt, he knew what it was. Basic Abilities. There was just one small problem. Two small problems.

    > Step 3
    > Determine Ability Scores
    >strength 14 (+2) [-][+]
    >dexterity 16 (+3) [-][+]
    >constitution 11 (+0) [-][+]
    >intelligence 9 (-1) [-][+]
    >wisdom 15 (+2) [-][+]
    >charisma 13 (+1) [-][+]
    >points 0/27

    Like everything else, the names weren’t quite right. Strength, endurance and dexterity had obvious equivalents, but he had no idea about the other three. There were only five abilities, not three. And his weren’t that low!

    “I have a rank H agility, and dexterity was almost there too.” He whined. Now it was all gone. He was going to have to raise them all over again.

    Grumbling, he fiddled with the dials set next to the scores. It turned out that increasing his abilities cost points, and decreasing gave him points. He also couldn’t get anything over sixteen. This was something he definitely wanted to change, so he did. After some time, he settled on something that felt balanced.

    > Determine Ability Scores
    >strength 14 (+2) [-][+]
    >dexterity 16 (+3) [-][+]
    >constitution 14 (+0) [-][+]
    >intelligence 11 (+0) [-][+]
    >wisdom 12 (+1) [-][+]
    >charisma 12 (+1) [-][+]
    >points 0/27

    “That’s better.” He sighed. It looked like he had a long road ahead of him.


    Maybe so, but Paladin Bell will be glorious. Hopefully. Bell chose charisma over intelligence because that's the mage ability, and he's no mage.
     
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  5. Threadmarks: Mad Milk Drinker (Skyrim xover) | First
    minuseven

    minuseven Samsara

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    First

    The Black Goliath vanished into ash and the 18th Floor collectively held its breath before erupting into cheers. Somehow, they had survived. Rivals hugged, seasoned adventurers cried in relief, and all the wine casks were open. For once, alcohol flowed in Rivira, for free! Already, the most opportunistic brewers were preparing hangover remedies for the low, low price of only mildly eye gouging values.

    Erik, the Milk-Drinker, that Crazy Elf, Rivira’s Weirdo, was very glad he didn’t drink. It was tempting to join the festivities, but really not worth it. “Mad Gods and Sane Gods,” he collapsed onto his rump, having spent most of the battle running around casting support magic to prop up the defenders, “what was that?”

    “A fucking irregular on the safe floor,” giggled a chientrope face-down on the ground.

    “No, really, I hadn’t noticed,” he snarked. “What I wanna know is how the fuck that’s possible!”

    The chientrope shrugged her shoulders helplessly in a ‘beats me’ manner. Erik wouldn’t get his answer until later in the night-cycle, as the story of what had happened finally circulated around, as is custom for adventurers, in exaggerated retellings, boasts and arguments.

    His mug crashed against the table with a deafening bang, silencing the tables in that corner of the pub. “A goddess?” Deep within his hood, his eyes shone, two points of cold light that fixed themselves onto the low-class adventurer regaling the table with the story. “Did you just say that there’s a goddess… here?”

    His gaze and words were so intense that even through the fog of alcohol the lad felt himself sweat. He gulped, eyeing the man still fully armoured figure this late into the festivities. “Y-yeah, came onna rescue mission fer those bastards Loki’s rescued- wait, where’re ya going?”

    Erik was already out of the pub and running through the streets of Rivira. He couldn’t believe it. A god in the dungeon. He’d given up years ago, but now there was a god. In the dungeon. He should feel light, but his every step seemed to drag on, his body heaved, his breaths rasped against his throat. The fact that the entrance to the 17th was blocked didn't factor anywhere in his mind. All he could think was of being late. Of missing the god, like boats passing by.

    He had never seen a boat.

    He sprinted all the way to the place where Loki’s forces had made their camp for the past days. He stumbled to a stop, only barely registering the alarmed looks that those there gave him. His mind was solely on the goddess, so he did not think of how he would be viewed. A heavily armored figure had just burst into their campsite, features and weapons concealed beneath a hood and cloak. It was no surprise that the adventurers, resting and recovering from the Goliath, jumped to attention, hands going to weapons and muscles tensing.

    In his haste, Erik also forgot what had apparently triggered the dungeon into unleashing the irregular boss on Rivira. A dispute between the record holder and some belligerents, in which said record holder’s goddess had been held hostage. As such, everybody’s reactions were understandable when he asked: “Is it true there’s a goddess here?”

    “I don’t know what you’ve heard, pal,” a red-haired young man planted himself in front of Erik, “but nobody here wants trouble. And if you’re thinking of starting some, we’ll be more than happy to put ya in your place.”

    A tall human rose from the ground with the help of a huge battleaxe. “Leave and we shall have no problems.” Behind him, Erik saw an elf in a green cloak glide with the grace of a high class adventurer, hand on the hilt of her weapons in warning.

    Before he could explain that he meant no harm, the tent in front of him rustled and a figure peeked out. “What’s going on out there? Bell is resting!” A short woman with silky black hair in twin-tails huffed.

    She was beautiful. There was something almost unearthly perfect about her features. Clad in nothing but a white dress and sandals, a blue ribbon over her arms. She didn’t have a divine aura, but Erik didn’t need it to understand what she was. Her blue eyes, sparkling yet unfathomably deep, told him everything he needed to know.

    His knees gave out and hit the ground, provoking startled gestures from the adventurers surrounding him, and tears pricked at his eyes. Then he prostrated himself, forehead against the ground and begged. “Please Goddess! I implore you, let me join your familia!”

    ““Uh!?”” Surprised exclamations rang around him.

    “Please!” He insisted. “Please… take me in.”

    He heard light footsteps approaching him amidst hushed exchanges and the rustle of armor and steel. He could only focus on those steps. “You… want to join my Familia?” Came the soft voice of the goddess from above him.

    “More than anything.” He told in truth.

    So close, he could hear her startled inhale. “Why?” The goddess asked almost warily. “Do you even know who I am? You don’t, do you.”

    Erik felt a chuckle “I don’t know who you are Goddess, who your Familia is or even what you do.” He raised his head to meet her eyes. “I only know you came into the dungeon to save someone, but not even of that I was thinking, just that you were here. Do with me as you will. Evil or good, dangerous or not, radical or mundane, I will do your bidding. Keep me forever, discard me if you wish, but please. Please give me your blessing and take me out of here.”

    The goddess’ brow furrowed sadly. She crouched down in front of Erik and, when she spoke, all those present could hear in her words the weight of her ageless existence. “Why are you so desperate, Child?”

    Her eyes bore into his and the truth leapt from his lips before he could second-guess it. “Because I don’t want to die without seeing if the sky really is that big.” He averted his gaze, suddenly self-conscious. “I. I’m cursed. My… my god abandoned me. It’s nothing dangerous to you, Goddess! I swear it.” He hurried to say. “But the only way to get rid of the curse is to join another Familia. It’s a long story. Very long. Could we, ah,” his eyes darted to the handful of very curious adventurers listening intently, “perhaps talk in private?”

    “Lady Hestia…” A long-haired eastern woman dithered, but the goddess, now identified as Hestia, raised a hand to stop her.

    “He’s not going to hurt me, are you…” She blinked and laughed. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name.”

    He rose to his feet and gave a shallow bow. “Erik, Lady Hestia, and I do so swear.”

    A short-haired pallum turned her head to see them enter the tent the goddess had emerged from. She’d been watching over a white-haired human on a cot, and Erik recognized him as the young man that had dealt the final and decisive blow to the Black Goliath that afternoon. In his head, several connections were finally made. This was the Little Rookie, the record-holder, and this goddess was the Hestia, from Hestia Familia. He wasn’t sure if he felt more or less nervous. Hestia’s was a single-member familia, which meant that the goddess was either still new and openly recruiting or, considering her only member, highly selective.

    Hestia interrupted the pallum before she could begin to speak, narrow eyes suspiciously watching Erik’s every movement. “It’s Familia business, Lili,” she explained, “I’m sorry but only Bell can listen.” The pallum begrudgingly stood up and left.

    She motioned him to sit down, while she perched on the cot the Rookie occupied. The young man blinked tiredly, murmured something but Hestia was quick to soothe him and he fell back to sleep. A fond smile twisted her lips.

    “I saw him,” Erik told her. “Defeating the Goliath. We might all owe him our lives today.”

    “That’s my Bell,” the goddess sighed. “A really reckless hero. I worry about him a lot.” She brushed a hair away from his forehead then turned back to him. “So. What about you, Erik? You must know I’ve noticed that that isn’t really your name.”

    He nodded, having been expecting it. “Yes. But Erik is the name I chose for myself and that I answer to.” After a moment of hesitation, he pulled down his hood, revealing pale skin of a slate colour and eerie, solid blue eyes. Elven pointed ears poked out from a pulled back mass of curly black hair. “If I have a real name, I don’t remember it.”

    “A long story, I take?” Hestia

    “Shorter than I’d like.” He chuckled without feeling it. “In essence, a God gave me his grace and some gifts, and in return he took my memories and dumped me here.”

    She was incredulous, but couldn’t deny the veracity of his words. “How- no. Why?”

    “Why do Gods do anything?” He couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice. “For his own amusement. And, of course, that wasn’t all. Not interesting enough.” A bitter smirk twisted his lips. “So long as I possess his falna, I cannot rise above the 18th Floor.”

    It all started as a dream. He was standing in a clearing with fog by his knees, but the sky was clear above him. Constellations that he knew shone above him with pity. He had no idea where he was. He blinked. He had no idea of who he was either.

    “Yes, well, mortal minds really aren’t made for this sort of thing. I thought yours might hold up better but NOPE, I just had to scoop all the ruined parts out, so now you're like a potato puff without filling.” A man, an elf and something else at the same time clapped him on the back. “Delicious!”

    “What? Who are you? What’s going on?” He shoved himself away from the gentleman only for a claw to grab the back of his neck and reel him in.

    “Relax my friend or you’ll end up with your entrails around your neck. For once I’d actually like to avoid that. Except, you know, not really.” A pure and innocent twisted the woman’s lips into a grimace. “I’m just a normal Prince, or a God as some of those theoreticians in the Academy say. I have followers and priests, terrible annoyances, always want me to do the paperwork for them.”

    “Did you bring me here?” He very carefully didn’t struggle.

    “Yes I did, keep up, who else would it have been? The White God? Pssh.” He waved a hand. “They don’t do transmigration, only the old boring reincarnation. No fun in that. And of course you don’t understand, they usually don’t. That's part of the fun!”

    “I don’t know who you are, I don’t even know who I am.” They pleaded with the goat.

    “Hmm, lemme see.” The satyr, what was a satyr? Looked into his ear and chewed on it for a while. “Forget being a sushi roll, I think you only really have the nori after all. Sort of a wonder you can even talk, it’s probably the metaphysics of semi-planes of existence. Let’s fix that, shall we? No fun if you just die.”

    A rice ball was shoved in his hands. He ate it in a single bite. He now noticed his skin wasn’t a human shade.

    “Much better. Everything’s there now, but I don’t feel like playing Tetris so I just let it fall where it did. Know where you’re headed to?”

    “The Dungeon.” He blinked, then balked. “The Dungeon!? Under Orario? I’m going to die!”

    “Eh, try not to. I’d be doing a poor job if you ended up dead before you ended up insane.” The God of Madness he now recognized said next to him. “Now look up and choose your constellation, I need it for the rad tramp stamp I’m giving you.” His eyes fixed on a constellation he’d never seen before yet he knew intimately. “Boring choice, but whatever.”

    “Wait, I’m getting a falna? Why?” What was the catch?

    The Goddess massaging his shoulders smirked. “We’re playing a little game. I drop you in the Dungeon with my blessing and I’ll check in periodically to see how close you are to chicken soup with alphabet pasta.” That couldn’t be everything. “You can’t leave, too boring. You’re the type to run away, aren’t you? So no on going above. You’re starting at level 1 like all good pcs, so I’ll throw in your starry blessing, racial modifiers and even magic!” He tasted rainbow on the last word. “And a knife of self-mutilation updating. Should be all you need to survive by the skin of your teeth.”

    He was definitely going to die, and he couldn’t even slot everything that had just been said into the corners of his mind. He felt like he was missing the dot on the ‘i’ and it was definitely the ‘t’’s fault. “Why?”

    “I was bored. Now,” the gentleman smiled with too many teeth, “say Cheese!”

    Pain set his back on fire...

    “... and then I woke up in this forest. I walked until I saw Rivira and I knew this wasn’t a nightmare. I still tried to leave, but my feet led me astray whenever I tried to find the exit to the 17th. I tried following groups up, but somehow kept losing sight of them, and when I tried joining them, we all got lost.” His fists clenched in his lap with so much force that if it weren’t for his gloves his nails would be drawing blood. Small hands grasped his and kneaded soothing circles, prying his fingers loose one by one. “Cursed.”

    “It’s going to be okay.” The goddess told him. She looked tenderly at him, rubbing circles on the back of his hands. “We can fix this, can’t we? That’s why you want to join my Familia.”

    “Yes.” He withdrew his hands from hers, carefully, and focussed. A sphere of oblivion formed between his fingers and deposited there a letter-opener with an ornate hilt engraved with faces that changed expression depending on how you looked at them. “This is the knife He left with me. Blood drawn with it can be used to update my status.”

    “It has to be a divine item,” Hestia sucked in a breath. “How does it even work with the falna? It’s breaking all the rules.” Her fingers hovered over the blade.

    Erik shrugged. “I don’t know. It just updates itself according to my wishes. It’s unbreakable by anybody but another God. Doing it will supposedly unlock my falna and allow for conversion.”

    Hestia nodded. “Okay.” She nodded to herself again. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

    Erik gaped at her. His glowing eyes searched her face. “It can’t be this easy.” He murmured.

    “Why not?” She asked, and it wasn’t pity in her voice but something like comprehension.

    “You know scarcely anything about me. You don’t know what I am, or- or what I can do? Goddess, you don’t even know my level. I’m not...” Erik gestured at himself and laughed in her face. “I’ve had to do a lot to survive the dungeon, to keep my secrets: stolen, cheated, bullied, -” killed. The dungeon had ground him down to his core, hard, hard and merciless.

    Hestia shook her head. “I don’t need to know any of that.”

    “Then what was it?” What knowledge had convinced her? What had she devised about him that gave her such confidence? Which secrets had she sniffed out?

    “Erik,” the Goddess asked, “how long have you been trapped here?”

    “I don’t know.” He gave the rough estimate he used to keep track of major events in the surface world. “Can’t count the days in the dungeon. More than six years, maybe seven. I was almost Level 2 when the Nightmare of the 27th happened.”

    “So long.” The Goddess of the hearth, home and family smiled sadly. “Don’t you think it’s time to go home?”

    His vision inexplicably blurred and his breath hitched. He tried answering her, though he knew not what he’d say, and pathetic blubbering escaped his lips. Wet trails ran down his cheeks. Hestia kneeled down in front of Erik and let him cry into her shoulder, rubbing his back and letting him air years of desperation.

    He was one of her Children now, and if she ever met the bastard that had done this to him, she was going to kick his butt.


    and for something completely different! Started as a SI/OC-SI, now it's just an OC. I mean, memories are tetris currently and they are definitely not coming back.
     
  6. Threadmarks: untitled D&D 5e x Gamer | Part 4
    minuseven

    minuseven Samsara

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    “Part 3!”

    Part 4: Details, Schmetails

    > Step 4
    > Determine Character Details

    It was a lot of things. Most of it Bell wasn’t going to touch. Hair color, height, eye color, age… he was fine like he was! There was just one thing unchosen.

    > Choose Background
    >acolyte
    >anthropologist
    >archeologist
    >charlatan
    >city watch
    >clan crafter
    >cloistered scholar
    >courtier
    >criminal
    >entertainer
    >faction agent
    >far traveler
    >fisher
    >folk hero
    >gladiator
    >guild artisan
    >guild mer…

    And the list continued on. Farmer wasn’t there, or adventurer. There was one that caught his eye. “Aah, I wonder if I should… It can’t hurt anybody, right?” He nodded to himself. “Okay.”

    > Choose Background
    > Folk Hero

    “I can be a hero!” And get the girls just like his grandfather said. “Yeah!”

    > Choose Tool Proficiency
    >alchemist
    >brewer
    >calligrapher
    >carpenter
    >cartographer
    >cobbler
    >cook
    >glassblower
    >jeweler
    >leatherworker
    >mason
    >painter
    >potter
    >smith
    >tinker
    >weaver
    >woodcarver

    A new list popped up. They were never ending. Bell sighed and set to figure this one out too. It was a bunch of professions that didn’t fit him. He knew a bit of carpentry, cooking and basket weaving from his childhood at the farm but he wasn’t an expert by far. Actually, he slumped as he thought about it, he didn’t have many skills at all…

    “As an adventurer, eh… I suppose smith or alchemist would be the best.” But he already went to Miach’s for potions, so maybe not alchemy. “Smithing it is. Aah, I hope I’m not choosing wrong things.”

    > Choose Tool Proficiency
    > Smith’s Tools

    And then the last step was equipment. This part was easy. It was just choosing between different weapons and other things. The only complicated part was figuring out what martial weapons and simple weapons were, but after going through even more lists, he had it figured out.

    > Step 5
    > Choose Equipment
    > Longsword and Shield
    > Dagger
    > Explorer’s Pack

    Bell didn’t know how to really use a sword or a shield. He stuck to the big dagger the Guild had provided. But when he imagined a hero, a paladin… he was definitely using a sword and a shield.

    “Alright, I think that’s it. I’m done!” Now the spell wouldn’t complain, right? He turned on the spot, seeing all words he had chosen and how they glowed in the darkness. “This is right, right? I didn’t get wrong? Urrgg!” He held his head in his hands. He didn’t know! What if this was actually some prank or something terrible? Maybe he should recheck everything.

    “Can’t hurt!” He said to the darkness, delaying the inevitable.

    But as he went over everything from the beginning, he noticed something. If he changed his race to variant human, which still looked like a completely normal human, his abilities lowered, but something new opened called a feat. It was just another very long list, but there was something there that he just couldn’t ignore.

    > Determine Ability Scores
    >strength 14 (+2) [-][+]
    >dexterity 16 (+3) [-][+]
    >constitution 13 (+1) [-][+]
    >intelligence 10 (+0) [-][+]
    >wisdom 11 (+0) [-][+]
    >charisma 11 (+0) [-][+]

    > Choose Feat
    > Dungeon Delver

    > Done



    I really really wanted Bell with a feat. but damn are his stats kinda bad for a paladin lol. Also, is schmetails even acceptable?
     
  7. Threadmarks: Apostle (Evangelion xover) | 1
    minuseven

    minuseven Samsara

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    Arrival

    A dark sky rained torrents onto an unfamiliar city. Even underwater, he could hear the deep pattering of fat raindrops against roof shingles, stone and the pond itself. It was muffled, like everything, resonating curiously in his eardrums.

    Shinji blinked. His eyelashes dragged in the liquid. It was blue. Water?

    Instinct had him surge up, palms smacking down on the floor next to his hips. His head breached the water’s surface and he panted. Confused grey eyes took in his surroundings.

    He’d been laying in a long shallow tank, the water only coming to the middle of his torso now that he’d sat up. Above, a beaten roof with more than one shingle missing protected him from the rain. It was an old, public wash house, languishing in the middle of a small plaza. Decrepit stonework buildings laded the streets, wooden skeletons showing through, rubble and garbage pushed into corners. There was nobody in sight. Where was he?

    A gust of wind blew through the plaza and he shivered. Now that he was awake, the cold was very noticeable. He didn’t think he’d ever been this cold. Rain was rare, and when it came it was barely a reprieve from the humid heat. Trembling, he rose to his feet and climbed out of the tank. He was dressed in the same old school uniform as he had been before.

    “Where is this?” He asked himself, peering out from under the roof to a landscape he didn’t recognize. Cracked paved roads wound between ruins of great old buildings in old and foreign styles. Remains of pillars still as tall as buildings leaned obliquely over the architecture. It reminded him of pictures of the old cities, devastated by the post-Impact wars, irradiated by the bombs and left to decay as giant mausoleums. The buildings were all wrong for what he knew, and he thought he might have ended up somewhere in Europe or India.

    In the distance, standing tall and illuminated against the overcast sky, a great tower marked civilization. Shinji stared at it for long minutes, mulling in his head whether or not to brave the weather. There was no guarantee that there would be people willing to help him.

    And help him with what? He had no idea of what he wanted.

    Perhaps that was a lie. He didn't know what he wanted, but he did know he didn't want to be alone anymore. That decision had him step out from under his meager covering and dash across the cobblestones. He slowed down after two empty streets. There weren't any dry places to take cover that he could see and besides, it hardly mattered. He was dripping wet from being in the tank.

    As he walked towards the distant tower, the cityscape around him slowly changed. Although the architecture remained old and eclectic, some buildings were in slightly better condition while others appeared to have been completely demolished. Signs of life became more and more common. Abandoned bottles, a crumpled, dirty straw hat, broken metal utensils. Through the planks of a half-boarded up window, he thought he saw the crumpled form of a homeless person.

    He didn't approach. If there were people here, surely there would also be at the tower.

    The street he was on opened into a larger road, and there he saw more people. A few cloaked-covered forms dashed across mud and cobblestones. Briefly, Shinji was stunned by the sight. Something he hadn’t noticed was there loosened in his chest. He wasn’t alone. He turned to follow the flow of people, eyes on the closed windows and doors he could now see. The road passed under the arch of an old, crumbling european style wall. Beyond it, the city flourished.

    The buildings were no longer husks of themselves, the ruins of old disappeared, replaced by houses, stores and stalls. Light distorted rain droplets sliding down glass windows. Spherical street lamps lined the street, inert despite the gloom brought on by the weather. Foot traffic flowed, some people carrying funny little umbrellas, some nothing like Shinji, most protected by heavy cloaks and hoods in a variety of styles. It was the depressed busiwork of a city under heavy rain, but Shinji was just starting to wonder were all the cars when he saw the man steering the horse.

    His steps slowed to a stop, and he stood gaping at them in the rain. Shinji had only ever seen a horse once, the animal being on the edge of extinction after Second Impact.. He’d been eight and some farmers from his uncle’s town had managed to trap a wild horse that had been roaming near the fields. He’d watched from afar, behind all the other curious children. Apparently, they’d broken the horse’s leg while they tried to tame it to work in the fields, so it was put down and butchered. But this horse was nothing like the thin, small wild horse from years ago, or even the ones from old cowboy movies. It stood as tall as two people on top of each other, and much larger than a motorcycle.

    He was broken out of his amazement as someone slammed into his shoulder violently. He spun and fell face-down on the muddy cobblestones, stinging his elbows and palms. Shinji snapped his head up to the person who’d thrown him to the ground. “Hey-”

    Blue, slitted eyes pinned him in place and he flinched. “---- --- -- --- ---, ------!” Fangs flashed as a monster of a man snarled over his shoulder. Beneath his hood, two furry ears were turned sideways, and a striped tail curled irritably at waist level. He continued on his way with a huff.

    Shinji watched him walk away with wide eyes and a dry mouth. He tried to process what he’d just seen. The ears and the tail, they had been real. But that was impossible.

    “----, ---- ---- ---- ----.”

    “-- -- -------?”

    Voices broke through his befuddlement. There were other people on the road, and now they looked at him, kneeling in the rain. For the first time, he truly looked at them, and his heart leapt into his throat. They weren’t human. Some had pointed ears peeking out of their hoods, tails and animal ears. Other even had strange proportions, unnaturally tall or squashed short. There were weapons, on their belts, gripped in their hand. Swords, spears, staves, horns and claws.

    One of them approached, opened her mouth and “------ --, -- --- ---- --- ----?” Gibberish. Shinji stared one moment at her elongated ears, the staff she carried, caught the handle of some sort of blade sheathed at her belt, and finally succumbed to instinct.

    He ran.

    He ran like the devil itself nipped at his heels, and perhaps it did. He blindly retraced his footsteps out of the clean streets and into the ruins where he had come to. His heartbeat hammered at his ribs like a frenzied drum. His feet slipped on the mud and he caught himself on one of the broken columns scattered between buildings like teeth pointing at the sky. They were the only familiar things around him, none of the houses and buildings sparking to mind any recognition. He must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. He tried to remember which path he’d taken, but the way out of the hollowed out cityscape felt uncertain and he had no idea of which turns he’d taken when running back. He was lost.

    Shinji’s teeth chattered, shivers racking his body as the rain continued to fall and the adrenaline left his veins. It was so cold. He wondered if this was what winter what was like. He had to get out of the rain, but he didn’t know which direction the washhouse he’d come from was. He hesitated before picking a direction and continued walking.

    He walked and walked, hunched over and shivering, but he couldn’t find the basin he’d woken up in. He checked all corners of the twisting streets, walked the length of every cracked road laid before him, doubled back and tried others directions, but he couldn’t find his way. The ruined buildings changed styles, from single houses to larger structures, and he knew he was just getting himself even more lost.

    At some point, he stopped hurrying and just walked with no direction in mind. His surroundings blurred and some distant corner of his mind recognized the haze the world had become ensconced in. He’d felt like this before, after the Fifteenth. He’d been completely alone then, without anybody, lost, and the fog had settled over his thoughts. It let him be safe for a moment, cruise along the river of life, but it also blocked the sun and vista that life could offer to him. Shinji’s footsteps slowed to a stop. One way or another, he had ripped away that veil. Life could be beautiful, but for that, it had to be lived. He knew that now, and looked up.

    Did miracles exist, or fate?

    In front of him was a church, run down yet safely nested between two larger, crumbling temples. It was the first truly familiar building he saw since waking up. He knew western-style churches, a common enough sight in the city. Christianity had become more popular after Second Impact, like many religions. NERV had had a lot of christians. He flexed his hand and for the first time wondered where her cross had gone.

    The inside of the church wasn’t completely dry. It rained on some spots, dripped in several others. Yet it felt warmer than the outside. The sound of the rain was muffled, like a blanket was covering the church. Faint light shone through the remaining vitrals in the walls. He walked down the aisle, past broken, rotten and upturned pews, until he stood in front of the altar. The cross symbol on the altar wasn’t a crucifix, a half-circle connecting the bottom to the sides. The statues depicted saints in strange clothes and the vitrals unknown scenes.

    "I don't know where I am." He told the altar. "I don't know what is going on. I can't understand what those people were saying. They weren't... human, were they?" Only the sound of water answered. "Maybe that is how people came back from Third Impact." He hesitantly brought a hand to his ear, but they felt the same as always. "I didn't really understand that, either. "

    The only thing the church offered was a brief respite from the rain and more time to think. He felt cheated. What was the point of coming back if he couldn't have bonds with people? Forget who or what they were; he couldn't even speak with them! He slumped against the altar and pulled his knees to his chest. He almost wanted to go back. Instrumentality might have been death in all but name, but at least it didn’t feel this hopeless.

    He couldn’t though. Not that he even knew how to, but because it would be just more running away. It hurt just as bad and solved nothing. He had no choice but to keep going forward and hope it wouldn’t hurt him too badly.

    How predictable, he scoffed to himself as he closed his eyes to rest.


    This being actually a terrible idea. I can't possibly portrait eva characters well. They're too messed up and deep. Also, yes? I cannot originality and it's always Hestia, ahahah...
     
  8. ziozo

    ziozo Getting sticky.

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    A very interesting idea that I am very much interested in, i have high expectations for this one.

    Watched.

    P.S. if you want to get more attention it might be a good idea to either post this in the nsfw forum(monster guts, blood, and 1 or 2 naughty words would allow it to be there) or SB/SV as they generally have a lot more activity.

    the reason i found this was because i was searching for 5e.
     
  9. Threadmarks: untitled D&D 5e x Gamer | Part 5
    minuseven

    minuseven Samsara

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    Bell Cranel was a novice paladin.

    Part 5: Still Here

    Bell Cranel was on the 5th Floor. He blinked. He blinked again. "Eh?"

    He breathed, and choked on Evil. He felt the Evil. All around him but especially under him, deep deep under him them all. Something incredibly vast and unimaginably evil strained. It hated them all. His knees hit the ground as he struggled to keep his breathing in check and his lunch down.

    His chainmail tinkled and the weight of his shield dragged his arm down. He stared at his hands and the longsword gripped in his right fist. He knew it, was intimately familiar with how to use it… Yet he’d never… He felt different, was different. He knew things. His hand let go of his sword and grasped the medallion hanging from his neck with desperate force.

    The simple tin medallion with his goddess’ symbol engraved, that he’d never possessed before.

    “Goddess... what happened?” He asked, but nobody answered. Gods didn’t answer paladins like him, who’d barely started on their path, not even having swore their sacred oaths. It made no sense how he knew that either, because everything jived against what he’d known about gods from the stories, and his own personal experiences with the Goddess of the Hearth.

    It had to have been that magic in the darkness. After-

    That was the moment when he heard the thundering run of a monster. His head snapped up. A minotaur barrelled into the corridor he was in from an intersection ahead. The minotaur that had killed him. The monster’s yellow eyes locked on to Bell’s form and his breathing stopped.

    Bell Cranel was going to die.

    He screamed, stumbled back. The monster roared, surged forward.

    He couldn’t outrun it. He hadn’t managed it before, and that was without a heavy chainmail and shield slowing him down. There was no time to think. Training he hadn’t possessed before kicked in, and he raised his shield. The minotaur’s first thunderous blow cracked the shield straight down the middle and sent Bell flying back. It was the only thing that saved him from being gored on one of the monster’s horns. He hit the ground several yards away, coughing as he tried to draw in a single breath.

    If he stopped now, he’d die. He didn’t want to feel that ever again! He groped around for his sword, fingers scratching at the dungeon’s floor. The minotaur appeared above him, great fists raised over its head. Bell squeezed himself under his shield, bracing with both his arms against the blow that was coming.

    The impact drove more than air out of him. Bell’s head ricocheted against the ground and he spat foamy blood amidst a choked scream. He wouldn’t remember the sound of his shield splintering or of his arms being popped out of their sockets.

    The second blow was open handed, swatting a spider against the ground and then grinding it until no life remained in the mess of carapace and ichor.

    Bell was the spider. Underneath his chainmail and the slivers of wood that had been a shield, his bones cracked. His ribs squeezed his organs, then they broke and started cutting into his vitals.

    He was helpless, useless arms trapped under the minotaur’s hand, legs weakly squirming against the floor, gasping for air he couldn’t draw in, bloodshot eyes bulging. He was nothing but a bug.

    A brilliant flash cut through the dungeon’s air just before his mind faded entirely into the black.


    Well that got dark and serious fast!! : D So much for low effort...
     
  10. Flamelordytheking

    Flamelordytheking Getting some practice in, huh?

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    Really liking these stories so far! I hope you continue them soon.

    In particular, I like Paladin!Bell who’s going to have a much tougher time dealing with some monsters and a much easier time dealing with others. Also, Healing magic will draw way more attention that Liaris Frieze could, if only because he can affect other people.

    once again, great writing, and I hope you continue it.
     
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