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THUNDERDOME CDXCII: NO HUMANS ALLOWED Welcome to the year 2022, Domers. New thread, same whatever. I’m here and I’m 100% over humans and all the human things they do, so this week is for stories that feature literally anything except humans. That means exactly zero characters in your story can be human. Your characters can live alongside humans (because let’s face it - humans exist) and possess some human qualities, but I don’t want to see actual certified humans in your stories at all. No screen time for them. No dialogue. You may acknowledge that they are real, but that’s it. My respect and admiration will be awarded to the writer that can craft a compelling tale that takes place in a world where humans don’t exist, but this is not a requirement. So go ahead, write a story that is 1000 words or less starring ideas made corporeal, cryptids, tapirs, talking mist, ghouls, sentient bowls of Jell-O, etc. Go nuts. If you let me assign you ONE specific non-human entity to feature in your story, your limit is 1300 words. But wait, there’s more: if you request TWO specific non-human entities from me, your limit increases to 1500 words. No story should exceed 1500 words. Signups close: 11:59 PM Pacific Time, January, 7th 2022 Deadline to Submit: 11:59 PM Pacific Time, January 9th, 2022 Word Limit: 1000 words if you come up with your own not-humans 1300 words if you let me assign you one not-human 1500 words if you let me assign you two not-humans Judges: Beezus The Man Called M ChickenofTomorrow Entrants: 1. Chairchucker 2. Sitting Here 3. Captain_Indigo 4. Thranguy 5. Idle Amalgam 6. sparksbloom 7. Nae 8. Crabrock 9. BeefSupreme 10. Taletel 11. Burning_Conch 12. Ceighk  13. Hawklad 14. yeah ok ok yeah 15. flerp
Beezus fucked around with this message at 03:39 on Jan 12, 2022 |
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Jan 5, 2022 07:01
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Chairchucker posted:oh there's assigny things please assign me a thing - A tree with a strong sense of right and wrong - A dog made of spaghetti
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Jan 5, 2022 07:18
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Captain_Indigo posted:Give me two please because I am IN - A being made entirely of ice and spite - A scarecrow Idle Amalgam posted:In. I'll take two entities, please. - The Leviathan - A chatty rock sparksbloom posted:In. I’ll take 2! - A secretarybird - Fire Beezus fucked around with this message at 21:43 on Jan 5, 2022 |
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Jan 5, 2022 19:48
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Nae posted:In, give me two entities! - A Porsche 911 with a heart of gold (any year) - Gytrash Beezus fucked around with this message at 21:43 on Jan 5, 2022 |
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Jan 5, 2022 20:40
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crabrock posted:in 2 plz - A gaseous entity from a planet shrouded in complete darkness - Sand
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Jan 5, 2022 21:35
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BeefSupreme posted:in, one please A rebel demon with a cause
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Jan 5, 2022 22:15
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yeah ok ok yeah posted:i;m in gimme a thingme A mountain
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Jan 7, 2022 01:41
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Signups are now closed.
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Jan 8, 2022 09:05
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Submissions are now closed.
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Jan 10, 2022 09:04
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Thunderdome Week 492: RESULTS Slightly better turnout this week compared to the last, but not by much. Quite a few failures, but all the folks pulled through. Good job or something. We have quite the variety of inhuman stories this week, and we were generally pleased by the overall quality.This week's loss goes to Ceighk with Death and the Cat and the Maiden, a story which none of the judges particularly cared for, made worse by the fact that a human featured fairly prominently throughout. If you're going to kill a cat in your story, make sure we enjoy the ride to the grave. No DMs this week, though the temptation was strong. HMs go to yeah ok ok yeah with Sea Otter and the Mountain for its charm and whimsy despite some reservations that surfaced during judge chat, sparksbloom's Foraging for a mostly-enjoyable tale of bird versus fire melancholy, and, lastly, Nae with A Car's Fanfic for Beezus which the judges agreed was actually a complete story with some fun moments (also heck the rules). Finally, your winner this week is Sitting Here with Portulaca Oleracea. The judges thought this was a lovely glimpse into the existence of what we assumed was a succulent that left us feeling good instead of bad. Grats, SH. Take it away. Please.
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Jan 12, 2022 03:46
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Crits for Week 492 Death and the Cat and the Maiden by Ceighk Yeah ok, dark haha at the end. But your secondary character was - I assume - a human girl, which isn’t exactly what I wanted. I have questions about how she was ok with this shambling meat suit when all other humans seemed to be afraid of it. I also knew the cat was going to have to die, but the journey getting there was a chore rather than a joy. It was a fun premise that just didn't deliver. I'm less mad about the girl and more mad about the unrealized potential. Foraging by sparksbloom “Wonton cruelty” is a whole new level of cruelty I did not know existed and now I'm hungry. You had a few other grammar gripes here, but I was still able to enjoy it in spite of them. I think you managed to sell a sad, desperate desolation here. Your ending was a little disappointing; it sort of whooshed through just as you grabbed my attention with the phoenix/manifestation of fire. I would have liked more from the conclusion, and I don’t think it needs much. The parts are all there. Songs at the End by flerp Ok yeah, the melancholy of this worked for me. I don’t know if it was really the end, or why the bird also seemed aware of this, but you painted a clear picture that I wanted to look at even though not a lot happened here. But unlike Foraging, your story just sort of quietly ended. Nice tone, I liked the premise of this creature's consciousness changing, but the conclusion fell flat to me. Maybe I Should Rebrand to Reduce Confusion by Chairchucker This was pretty dumb, but in a way that gave me some genuine laughs. Was this a story? I guess, yeah. What you did have here was at least digestible. I had fun, though. Thanks, spaghetti dog. Sea Otter and the Mountain by yeah ok ok yeah I got a strong sense of this whimsical little world, and I think the named locales and why that mattered helped. I would have liked more of an explanation as to why Sea Otter was kind of a dick. “Rude yet charming” doesn’t quite cover “didn’t bring toll for troll, so gets hangry and has troll murdered.” He gets his comeuppance for that which seemed fitting, it just seemed to escalate rather quickly in a way I didn't totally buy. Portulaca Oleracea by Sitting Here Second person POV was an interesting choice given we’re learning about a plant/succulent with experiences that are nigh impossible for humans to fully comprehend, and I’m not totally sold on it, but I actually think it worked here. Lovely language and visuals describing a life cycle where both a lot and very little happens. We talked about this in judge chat, but of the two stories using this point of view (and out of all the lot), this left me feeling hopeful and gently caress I need that right now. Endosymbiont by Hawklad The polar opposite of the previous story. Ew. Look, this was competently written and I can't find a lot of fault in your prose, but it squicked me out so loving hard and I got 0 enjoyment out of reading it. Thank you for not detailing the mating. My kneejerk reaction to this story after finishing it was to slap it with a DM, but my conscience wouldn't allow it. Technically speaking, it's not... bad... but if I am loathe to read it, what is it? Thin ice, my friend. A Cars Fanfic for Beezus by Nae I can’t believe I just read Cars fanfic and liked it. You had a complete story here that actually flowed well and utilized the assigned prompt in a silly, but rather clever way. The parts all came together for a satisfying end. Thank you for reminding me that red lights are for brakes, not headlights. Constellation by Thranguy This is the type of poo poo I was hoping I’d get to read this week: Big planets having big thoughts in space. Though I loved this concept, something was missing here for me. Perhaps it just moved too quickly and then stopped too abruptly, with nothing particularly interesting happening along the way. I think you have a really good idea here, but I'd like to see it go through a few iterations. The Scarecrow Sentinel by Captain_Indigo Heh. Ok, fun. I liked aspects of this world you were building here, but I found that worldbuilding somewhat hard to follow in parts. Decent wind up that doesn’t deliver reach a meaningful end. Wasn't sure if that conclusion was supposed to be a joke, either. My gut said that you had aspirations of something else here and maybe ran out of time or words or steam - maybe all of the above. Beezus fucked around with this message at 20:02 on Jan 12, 2022 |
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Jan 12, 2022 04:51
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I would like to read and judge the stuffed animal stories this week if Nae will have me.
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Feb 8, 2022 18:20
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Ingenious prompt.
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Mar 15, 2022 21:43
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Creepy Pasta 1248 Words Jack knew a little bit about boogeymen. His friend Mason had one in kindergarten. The stories Mason shared with Jack about them scared him so bad that he asked Mom and Dad to check his closet every night for almost two months. Mom said she had a magic star-shaped necklace that would help protect him, and she’d wave it in front of the door before kissing Jack goodnight. Mason’s boogeyman went away before winter break. By the time Jack was in the third grade, he’d forgotten all about boogeymen. Until one night, after all the lights in Jack’s house had gone out, there came a steady thumping from inside his bedroom closet. Jack clutched the plaid sheet to his chest as he watched the white wooden door rattle a little with each thud. He held very still as the brass doorknob slowly turned. His heart beat wildly in his chest. Part of him wanted to call for his parents, but some other, bigger part of him told him to grow up – surely this was just a dream. He’d wake up any second. He screwed his eyes shut tight and then opened them, hoping that might speed the process along. A soft creak signaled the closet door was now ajar. Panic welled in Jack’s chest. Without thinking, he said aloud in a small voice, “Please go away.” To his shock, the door immediately shut, and the rattling ceased. Jack spent the rest of the night huddled under his blankets, clutching a Nerf bat to his chest. The next morning, after he’d mustered enough courage to inspect the source of the sound, he opened the closet door and stepped inside, looking for signs of boogeymen. He didn’t know what those signs would be exactly, but he sifted through his boxes of old toys, stopping when he felt something wet and squishy squelch under his feet. He stepped back to find a small mound of thick white noodles nestled in the carpet. He dragged both Mom and Dad into his room to come see, but neither were particularly concerned. Mom laughed. “Honey, that’s no boogeyman. That’s the linguini we had for dinner last night. Use a plate next time, ok?” “He must have taken some from the fridge before he came into my room,” Jack said with such determination. Now it was Dad’s turn to laugh. “Maybe your boogeyman doesn’t work on an empty stomach. But your mom’s right: he should have used a plate.” Mom put a hand over her mouth as her shoulders shook. Jack heard her snort despite her attempt to muffle the sound. He frowned and stormed back up the stairs to his room, ignoring his parents’ apologies as he shut the door behind him. The next night, Jack was ready. He never went to sleep. He’d put on his bike helmet and rollerblading pads. He sat at the foot of his bed, armed with his trusty Nerf bat and armored by all the sports equipment he owned. With the lights out, he waited. Fear had taken a back seat to something else: the desire to prove to his parents that there was something there after all. An hour passed in silence. Just as his eyelids began to feel heavy, the thumping began again. He bolted upright where he said, grip tightening on the base of his bat. He set his jaw as the doorknob turned and the door pushed open with a whine. Jack remained quiet and let the door open fully. His eyes widened as he watched the creature emerge. Jack had never seen a boogeyman before. Even Mason only ever heard the monster from inside the closet, and sometimes under the bed. Jack didn’t quite know what to expect. But the being before him wasn’t something his imagination would have conjured on its own. It looked like a four foot tall pillar of limp linguine. The noodles hung in a tangled mass, dangling from some unseen source within the monster. A strong odor of garlic hit Jack’s nostrils. It did smell an awful lot like dinner from two nights ago. The monster shuddered and shuffled forward into his room, either unaware of Jack’s presence or unbothered by it. Jack heard a wet flop and looked down to see another puddle of linguine had been left in its wake. “Are you my boogeyman?” Jack said as it undulated toward his trophy cabinet. The linguine pile stopped and rotated where it stood. Jack assumed it was looking at him now. He ought to be afraid, but the fear had gone somewhere else for the moment. A curtain of loose noodles quivered as it spoke. “No. You’re too old to have a boogeyman, and you’re too young to be a witch,” replied the creature, its words moist. There was a strange quality to them that Jack couldn’t put his finger on. It was like talking to someone as they blew bubbles in the bath. “That lady who lives here,” the creature continued as it raised a limb of knotted noodles toward Jack’s door. “Which room is she in?” Jack’s gaze shifted to his door, then bag to the not-boogeyman, linguine creature standing in front of his bed. “You mean my mom?” Jack replied. The bat he’d once clutched to his chest now lay in his lap, but he didn’t dare let go of it yet. “Why?” Again, the creature shuddered. It shed another glob of damp linguine onto the carpet. Jack could have sworn that a chuck of tomato followed it to the floor. There was a long pause before it replied. “No reason.” The creature slithered close to the bed, and Jack tightened his grip on the bat draped across his thighs. “Wait just a second, what are you if you’re not a boogeyman? Why are you in my closet? If you’re going to stay – though I wish you wouldn’t – you’re going to need to stick around for a while so I can show my parents that you’re real.” The creature said nothing for a moment. Another handful of linguine slid to the floor. Whenever it shed a helping of noodles, it seemed to grow more. From somewhere. Somehow. “I never said I wasn’t a boogeyman,” the creature replied. “Wrong closet, sorry.” And without another word, the linguine creature slipped back into the closet and shut the door behind it, leaving a trail of wet pasta and garnish in its wake. The next morning, Jack could barely wait for sunrise to rouse his parents. The rest of his night was a quiet one, with no knocks or bumps to jolt him awake. He managed to sleep well. But when his parents emerged from their bedroom, it became clear that they hadn’t. “Mom! Dad! Come see my room!” After a bit of grumbling and groaning, they did as he asked. This time, when they came in and saw half a dozen piles of linguine littering the carpet, they didn’t laugh. In fact, his mom’s face went white as a sheet. Like she’d seen a ghost. Mom drew her fluffy pink bathrobe tighter, concealing the golden star-shaped necklace she always wore. The necklace she dangled in front of Jack’s closet years ago. His eyes drifted downward and widened as he noticed a few strings of linguine hanging out of Mom’s bathrobe pockets. “I told you it wasn’t a dream,” Mom said with a groan as she looked over at Dad. “Honey, I think I messed up the spell.”
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Mar 21, 2022 02:49
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Chernobyl Princess posted:BEEZUS. My own postpartum delirium compels me to accept your challenge, CP. You may be a figment of my sleep-deprived imagination, but I will fight you regardless. Prepare for whatever the hell is about to happen here.
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May 21, 2022 18:13
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Sleepless Mom Brawl Long Night 1501 Words Dawn’s arrival was an act of violence. Sunlight pierced through the window and shone mercilessly through Sarah’s eyelids. She groaned in protest before grabbing for a pillow and shoving her face into it, blocking out the light. Her world went dark once more, but it didn’t change the fact that day had arrived. Night’s end meant the cycle began anew. Starting now. She screwed her eyes shut even tighter and kept them shut as she peeled the covers off her body, threw the pillow back into the pile of her many other pillows, and shambled out of bed. Leaves and dirt tumbled off her body as soon as she was upright, forming a debris pile at her feet. She blinked blearily down at them, then shuffled into the kitchen, leaving a trail of twigs and soil in her wake. Sarah sank into the chair opposite her husband at the breakfast nook. He’d poured her coffee already; it sat in front of her, steaming and oh-so-inviting looking. Much unlike her husband Thomas, who didn’t look up from his paper when she sat down. “Where did you go this time?” He asked after a minute. There wasn’t so much as a twinge of genuine interest in his voice. She was used to that, though. At least he still asked. Perhaps part of him still cared. Sarah shrugged. “No clue. Best guess, somewhere in the Olympics. Maybe further north.” She sat back in her chair, sighing as it creaked under her weight. Her last memories were of the setting sun, so she’d clearly been asleep for hours. But a bone-deep exhaustion made her feel like she weighed a metric ton. The price of her dreams. Well, “dreams.” Last night, she raced along a beaten trail underneath a canopy of ancient evergreens, frantically searching for a sign that would point her toward the trailhead in the dark. The moon shone bright through the gaps in the ancient boughs. The ground was soft beneath her feet, the air thick with the scents of rot and damp earth mingling together to create a wild aroma so intoxicating she almost didn’t want to leave. Even though she knew full well she ought not to be there. Last she knew, she was in bed. The night before had been no different, except she’d awakened in the middle of what she assumed was the Pacific Ocean, treading water for hours and hours. She woke in her bed that morning completely drenched and with pockets full of wet sand. How she’d remained afloat for so long was a mystery to her, but she never tired, never for a second feared she might drown. The night before that? A snow-capped mountain range and a chill that never reached her core. And the night before that? A derelict freighter rusting over in who the hell knew where — some sort of boat graveyard, she guessed. And each morning, she returned to her bed covered in pieces of the places she swore she couldn’t have been to. She didn’t remember when the “dreams” started and neither could Thomas. But it had gone on for so long and been so consistent that the two of them were well passed the panicked fits they went through during those early days. Thomas called the police after the third night, convinced someone must be drugging his wife and kidnapping her in the night. Sarah didn’t have a better explanation, so she entertained his for a while. But that theory earned him nothing but laughter from the cops and comments like “at least they’ve been nice enough to bring her back.” Sarah tried seeing a psychiatrist, therapist, social worker, and naturopath - she couldn’t get a diagnosis from anyone that explained what she was experiencing. Not even an essential oil to try and keep her in bed at night. She tried a sleep study and went to a lab for observation, but of course she didn’t “dream” that night. So Sarah’s husband tried staying up to see for himself what happened to her. But each night, nothing. Sarah never left her bed. He’d blink and there she’d be, all tucked in just as she’d always been, except suddenly covered in soot or snow or sea water. “I’ll get a broom,” Thomas said after a while, his voice weary and flat. He rose from the table and headed toward the bedroom. He’d stopped trying to understand what happened to Sarah some time ago. He stopped asking questions. Now he just tried to keep the hardwood floors clean. They didn’t talk as much about anything anymore, really. Each time Sarah awoke, she felt like her husband was just a little further away, too. A month had passed and now he may as well have been an ocean away. She wanted answers for him just as much as she wanted them for him. Sarah tried to ease his anxiety about the whole thing by assuring him that there didn’t seem to be any harm in what was happening; she never returned injured or otherwise traumatized. It all seemed so benign, if inexplicable. And while Thomas initially took comfort in that knowledge, the distance between them grew larger and larger as he came to terms with the fact that he could do nothing to affect what was happening to Sarah. She missed him. He was barely twenty feet from her and still, she missed him. “Hey,” Sarah said as she stood in the doorway of their bedroom, coffee mug in hand as she watched him. Thomas had his back to her as he swept up the pile of pine needles she’d shed she’d shed. “There’s one thing we haven’t tried.” “Oh?” He replied, not looking back at her. “Come with me.” Her husband snorted. “Come with you? You don’t even know where you’re going or how. So how do you propose I go with you?” Sarah thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. “No clue. But we can still try.” Her husband turned around to face her fully. A moment passed between them before he pushed a hand through his sandy brown hair and said with a sigh, “Alright, sure. Couldn’t hurt, I guess.” —— That night, Sarah and Thomas lay in bed together, staring at the ceiling in silence. “So what should we…” Thomas’ voice trailed off in the dark. Sarah reached for his hand over the duvet and threaded her fingers in his. “Just hold my hand.” It was so simple. So simple, it seemed silly that they hadn’t tried this before. Sarah couldn’t remember the last time Thomas held her hand, though. Even before the “dreams.” “Hold your hand? You think that’ll work?” “I don’t know. But we don’t know that it won’t work,” Sarah replied helpfully. Thomas sighed. “I’m kind of scared to get my hopes up. I’ve been thinking, though. Maybe this has something to do with what happened on-“ “Can we just try? Please?” Sarah said quickly. Thomas said nothing for a long moment. Then he gave Sarah’s hand a small squeeze and replied, “Ok.” — Sarah didn’t remember falling asleep, but when she opened her eyes, the full moon greeted her. She looked down to find dirt under her bare feet, and a sheer drop a yard or two in front of her. Her heart leapt in her chest as she felt a hand squeeze hers. She turned her head to find Thomas standing beside her, head tilted back as he gaped at the moon. A city of lights stretched out before them. Rows of tall buildings formed the center, while smaller blips of neon sprawled out around them. Sarah didn’t know which city she was looking at. A dry, dusty breeze kicked up as Thomas spoke at last. “Sarah… This is real, isn’t it?” She nodded. “Pretty sure.” This was usually the part where she panicked a little trying to get her bearings. For as many times as this had happened, there was always an initial spike of fear. But now, with Thomas standing next to her, that terror was considerably blunted. Instead, excitement bloomed in her chest as she realized her silly little idea wasn’t so silly after all. And she wasn’t alone anymore. “Where are we?” He asked, breathless. “I have no idea, but we’ll figure it out” Sarah said with a smile and squeezed his hand back. “I’m just glad you’re here.” She was also glad she wasn’t in the middle of a body of water, but she figured she didn’t need to say that part out loud. Thomas looked at her for a moment before his shock melted into a smile. The first smile she’d seen on him in ages. She’d begun to think he’d forgotten how — there was only every worry or sadness before. “Me too,” He replied. “So what now?” “Well, dawn will be here eventually…” She gave his hand a playful tug as her lips quirked in a smile. “So we might as well explore. Let’s go for a walk”
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Jun 12, 2022 02:20
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Absolutely in. Vanilla, judges please fill in my blanks. #spinthewheel Edit: Switched from omega to vanilla for I am a coward.
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Aug 1, 2022 19:25
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Sitting Here posted:A [wizards] agonizes over [dinosaur island] Sstrizzr, King Lizzr 973 words Vanilla prompt Varyn Greystorm, third magus of the Order of the Second Star, summons an orb of incandescence and suspends it between gloved, dexterous digits. The cerulean flame illuminates the painted walls of the cavern, giving life to the crude etchings immortalizing their quarry in stone. It is none other than the tyrant Sstrizzr, King of Lizards. The Dynast-Destroyer. Lord of the Primordial Isle. Ender of the Lines of Man. It is the likeness of the very same abomination that rendered Varyn the last surviving son of house Greystorm. Varyn growls as he glares into the darkness. “This ends today. No more shall the dynasty of terror endure. Today I avenge- Furium Helious: What the gently caress, Steve? Sal’uun Kah: Dude what are you doing Varyn Greystorm: ((Hold on I haven’t finished my emote. Ugh I hate this character limit.)) Furium Helious: We’re not roleplaying this. Varyn Greystorm: ((I thought dungeons were always in-character?)) Sal’uun Kah: The schedule changed like two weeks ago. Where’s Ellen? Furium Helious: Ellen has dance class tonight. We’ll have to queue with an open slot and pick up a random. We still trying for an all-wizard clear? Sal’uun Kah: Yup. Can we hurry, my wife is going to be home soon Varyn Greystorm: Well drat. Wait I still need to switch over to my combat gear. The Order of the Second Star has entered the queue for Primordial Isle - Cavern of Fate. Furium Helious: Hope we can find someone. No one does Isle anymore. Varyn Greystorm: You guys A match has been found. Clownworld Meatprison has joined the party. Prepare yourself - your destiny awaits! Clownworld Meatprison: hi Furium Helious: Well that was fast. Sal’uun Kah: Steve you have no mana Clownworld Meatprison: why all wizards where is tank Sstrizzr the Devourer emerges from darkness and summons his legions to his aid! “Foolish mortals! Mine is a power beyond the bounds of time!” Varyn Greystorm: I told you I wasn’t specced for this. And somebody didn’t let me switch to my combat set before joining the queue. Furium Helious: Sorry, in a hurry. Furium Helious: I don’t remember this boss being able to summon velociraptors. Clownworld Meatprison: heal Sal’uun Kah: I’ll focus the boss while you guys focus the velociraptors Varryn Greystorm: I had so much backstory to reveal tonight. Sal’uun Kah: Just save it for roleplay night Varyn Greystorm: No, the moment is ruined. Furium Helious: Something seems off here. Sal’uun Kah: Is it because Steve hits as hard as a mitten? Furium Helious: Well yeah, but we must have screwed up a mechanic. Maybe we should re-queue. Sal’uun Kah: I don’t have time. My wife texted she’s almost home Clownworld Meatprison: heals pls Furium Helious: These loving dinosaur adds just keep coming. I’ve never seen this phase before. Sstrizzr calls his vassal Hrik the Undying to his side! Clownworld Meatprison: u need to kill them faster Sal’uun Kah: Holy poo poo he almost one hit me Furium Helious: Boss just summoned an armored triceratops. He’s laughing at us. I didn’t know he could even do that. Sal’uun Kah: Stay on the adds I’m going to use my cooldown Clownworld Meatprison: rez pls Varyn Greystorm: Welp I’m dead, Clownworld’s dead, and Furium is out of mana. Sstrizzr is insulted by your laughable display and calls upon his hordes to bear witness to your demise. Clownworld Meatprison: adds inc Furium Helious: Now there are a bunch of duckbills with spears?? Varyn Greystorm, prone and broken, raises his closed fist at Sstrizzr and cries out in a loud and clear voice, “By the light of the Second Star, you shall rue this day! In the name of House Greystorm!” Sal’uun Kah: Steve come on Varyn Greystorm: What? You’re almost dead. We’re going to wipe. Let me have this. Clownworld Meatprison: u guys suk Sstrizzr sets his sights upon Varyn Greystorm. His thunderous voice echoes throughout the cavern, “I tire of these empty threats, mortal. Your magicks cannot forestall the inevitable. I may have failed to end the Greystorm line once, but I shall not fail again.” Furium Helious: Uhhh what the actual gently caress? Clownworld Meatprison: hax Sal’uun Kah: ??? Varyn Greystorm: Well that’s new. I think I have an idea. Varyn Greystorm coughs, a trickle of blood trailing down his lower lip as he rises to his knees. He reaches into the voluminous sleeves of his mage robes and produces a shard of obsidian. He clasps the stone in his trembling hands and threads his fingers together, whispering in the ancient tongue inscribed upon it. Sstrizzr’s roars. “Where did you get that?!” Varyn Greystorm’s chiseled features quirk in a rueful smirk as unshed tears well in his eyes. “Look familiar? It was my father’s dying gift to me.” The shard between deft digits dissolves into a black mist. “If I am to enter the Halls of the Dead this day, I shall take you with me - with this stone, you are unmade!” He then gesticulates wildly, bending the vaporized obsidian into ribbons of fine mist that rapidly encircle Sstrizzr’s reptilian form. “Return to the primordial ooze from whence you came!” Sstrizzr falls to his knees as the stone of the Unmaker unravels the great lizard’s corporeal form! “Curse you, Greystorm!” He gasps his last breath as his flesh melts away, leaving behind a skeleton of perfectly-bleached bones. You have conquered The Primordial Isle - Cavern of Fate! Sal’uun Kah: how Varyn Greystorm: See this is why you guys need to read the dungeon lore. Furium Helious: Did Steve just roleplay a boss to death? Varyn Greystorm: Oh hey I got a rare drop! I think it’s a hat? It’s a wearable version of Sstrizzr’s head! Neat. Clownworld Meatprison: lol Clownworld Meatprison has left the party.
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Aug 7, 2022 20:35
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Yeah I'm in.
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Sep 29, 2022 18:04
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Redemption: Week 530 - ANTI-CORP PROPAGANDA Night of the Living and Dead Words: 1487 Zolla stared across the street watching a cashier hose a lake of blood off the sidewalk in front of a convenience store. Dawn had broken nearly an hour ago and Zolla was stuck somewhere between exhaustion and bone-rattling anxiety. Her bus was late. She’d spent the night in a tent that wasn’t hers. Whoever owned it never showed up to claim it. So it became her home for a few hours. Someone bigger than Zolla muscled it away from her the next morning. Mercy House wouldn’t take her anymore. The county changed the rules, they said. No shelter for people like her. How else would the poor vamps get their food? Zolla thought about trying to get her hands on a dose of ReWrite to hide the fair game marker in her blood, but she watched a guy attempt the same thing that afternoon. The door staff took his blood and almost let him in. But the machine corrected the reading before he could get through the door. Zolla had to look away when the guy started sobbing. The marker was difficult to hide. SangGenys made sure of that. Zolla didn’t even bother trying to get through the scanner; she’d light up like a Christmas tree. She could still get food and a bus ticket. The attendant seemed like she wanted a gold star when she told Zolla she’d snuck her a couple of extra apples. ‘I might die tonight,’ Zolla wanted to reply. “Thanks,” she mumbled instead. Then the countdown to night began. Zolla spent the last bit of daylight hitting up all the shelters on the east side. She had food to last the week, a plush wool scarf, and a baggie with a new toothbrush in it. Nice things. Just not what she needed. What she needed was four walls, a roof. The vamp-free zones went away when the city let SangGenys build a lab downtown. She walked down Tenth Avenue toward the bridge at Danner Street. Zolla reached out to let her fingers graze the chain link fence that separated the nice apartments from the sidewalk. Crucifixes of all shapes and sizes hung from the links, fashioned out of everything from tin foil to masts of derelict boats. She touched a wooden cross with a little plastic Jesus affixed to it, hoping it’d bless her or something. What Zolla really needed was a miracle. — There wasn’t a soul under the Danner Bridge. The bare dirt slope was once covered by makeshift shelters. Cops must have come through and swept them out. She spotted what looked like a tiny shipping pallet cabin in progress. Whoever started building it was long gone. That was likely as good as it was going to get for Zolla tonight. There wasn’t enough light left for her to go any farther. Full dark was nearly here. A cool breeze blew up a cloud of dust. Zolla reached into the bag and wrapped the scarf around her neck. Zolla parted the tarps draped over the pallet hutt and frowned at the dark pile on the ground. A foul odor wafted up from the mass, making her eyes water. It figured they’d leave their trash. She leapt backward, nearly falling on her rear end when the pile shuddered. A gnarled hand shot out from under a heavy blanket. Skin like ancient parchment wrapped around bones so stark, she could count each phalange in the dark. The head of a corpse emerged. “Help… me,” it rasped. The stench of its breath reached her even feet away. At once, she recognized the scent of stale blood. That was no zombie in front of her. “gently caress off,” she sneered and she kicked at the outstretched hand. The vampire recoiled with a snarl. “I’ll pay,” it wheezed, though it had yet to draw breath. “Have… money.” “Yeah right,” Zolla spat on the ground, trying to get the metallic tang out of her mouth. She quickly scooped up her bag and turned toward the fence. She had nowhere else to go, but she couldn’t stay here. “Take it,” it called out. Against Zolla’s better judgment, she turned around. Curiosity won out. Her eyes widened as the vampire produced a thick roll of bills. How did a vamp that loaded end up starving under a bridge? It could pay for the luxury of a willing donor. It didn’t need scraps like Zolla, who could never afford the SangGenys infusion that kept the vampires away. She stood still, eyes never leaving the money in its hand. “Your blood is clean,” it keened, “I can smell it.” “You’ll kill me,” Zolla replied. “I won’t,” it replied. The vampire finally crawled out of the pallet hut. It let out a guttural groan as it pushed up on its knees. The vamp wore a suit. A loving suit. It’d seen better days, but it was a suit all the same. “I swear on my sire, you will live.” Zolla’s mind raced. If she got any closer, the markers in her blood would ignite. She’d turn into a human glowstick. It’d be lights out for her. She shook the thought from her head. The state it was in? Surely Zolla could overpower it – him? Her neck was covered; he’d never know. gently caress, she needed the money. She could buy her way into a shelter that wouldn’t ask questions. Maybe this was her ticket. The dirt crunched under her boots as she stalked toward him. She bent down to scoop up the corner of a broken cinder block. “Money first. And you stop when I say, or I’ll bash your skull in.” It would only slow him down a little. Their heads just re-inflated like balloons. She had to watch a documentary about vampires before they let her out on parole. “Deal,” he rasped eagerly. He threw the cash at her. She reached down to pick it up. Her heart leapt in her chest. There had to be at least a grand in her hand. What sort of person – vampire – walked around with that much money in their pocket? And why was he rotting under a bridge? Zolla took a deep breath and knelt on the ground in front of him. She rolled up her sleeve and offered her arm. She couldn’t track the pupil in his eyes, but she felt him staring at her all the same. With a low growl, he reached for her wrist and jerked it to his mouth. His fangs sank into her flesh without warning. Zolla let out a sharp cry of pain. Her head swam immediately. This wasn’t anything like the blood draws she’d had before. She actually felt the blood leaving her body. An awful sensation. Her yelp of pain morphed into a groan. “Let go,” Zolla panted. “I’m gonna be sick.” He obeyed. His fangs came free with a wet squelching noise. Zolla fell onto her hands and knees and retched into the dirt, blood pooling between her fingers. When the sickness subsided, she sat back on her heels. The vampire had bright yellow eyes set in a face that looked almost human. He even had a full head of hair now. But his blood-stained lips were curved in a wicked grin that made Zolla’s empty stomach drop. A faint red glow out of the corner of her eye made her want to throw up all over again. The scarf had slid down, baring the luminous marks to the vampire. Their eyes met, and for what felt like eons, they simply stared at one another. Neither moving an inch. Zolla thought she’d choke on the tension. Would he kill her? Could she outrun him? He looked so much more… alive now. She hadn’t expected that. He’d only been latched for a few seconds. “You swore,” Zolla said through a trembling breath. “I did,” the vampire replied with a voice like molten silver. He sat back on his heels, mirroring her. Zolla swallowed thickly. Hope fluttered to life in her chest. “You’ll let me go?” “I said I’d let you live,” he replied in a tone that sent her into a state of panic. Zolla leapt to her feet, nearly toppling sideways as a fresh bout of vertigo took her by surprise. The vampire caught her by the waist. She swung the broken block at him, but he swatted it out of her hand effortlessly. “Relax,” he dragged her up against his chest. She writhed violently against him to no avail; his grip was too strong. He smelled like death and she wanted to be as far from him as possible. But as she glanced up to meet the golden eyes boring down into her, she saw it. A SangGyns code stamped into the skin below his jaw. A mark exactly like hers. Vampires didn’t get marked. What was he? He bent his head to hiss in her ear. “I think we can help each other.”
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Oct 18, 2022 20:29
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