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Mother flips out because I ordered vegan option with egg
So I’ll start by saying I’m mostly vegan but I occasionally indulge in an egg or some cheese at breakfast. This morning happened to be one of those occasions. Wasn’t planned or anything. I went out to buy doughnuts for the factory, one of my guys is having his last day today so I figured it would be nice if I bought everybody doughnuts to send him off. Next to our favourite doughnut joint (Daniels Doughnuts in Springvale Victoria, aus, if anyone’s interested, best fucking doughnuts ever) is a hungry jacks (that’s Aussie Burger King for the rest of you, dunno why they rebranded down here but they did) submitted by BeBa420 to entitledparents [link] [comments]
Anyways I hadn’t had breakfast this morning and figured fuck it I’ll pop in to HJ’s for a vegan avocado muffin. Now those things are alright but I was a little extra hungry and kinda in the mood for an egg so I asked for the vegan avo muffin with egg in a large meal, coke for the drink
It’s at this point a woman who had already ordered completely lost her fucking mind (should mention she’s an EM, as she did have a little kid with her, poor lil bugger was quiet the whole time though). The woman went up to the counter and asked them what I’d ordered, I was raised to mind my own business so while I could overhear the conversation I shut my mouth
Em: what did that tradie just order?
Cashier: vegan meal with egg
Em: well if it has egg it can’t be vegan!!! Change the order so there’s no egg
Cashier: I can’t do that ma’am, he ordered what he wanted and paid extra for the egg
Em: that’s ridiculous!!! If I order a vegan burger with bacon would you make it
Cashier: of course
Em: but that’s impossible!!! Bacon isn’t vegan
This went on for a bit until I lost it and started laughing
Em: you think this is funny?!?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!?
Me: nothing, I ordered a delicious meal and you’re losing your mind. It’s pretty funny
Em: you’re just a fucking troll!!! I bet this whole thing was a joke and you ordered this to piss me off!!!
Me: lady how would I have known it would piss you off? Sorry are you vegan or something?
Em: do I look like a stinking hippie?!? No I’m not fucking vegan and neither are you, you’re too fucking fat to be vegan
(Lol I’ve heard this before, I haven’t eaten meat in 26 years, since I was a little nipper, but I’ve been fat most of my life and have heard “you can’t be vegan/vegetarian, because you’re fat” can I just please dispel that misconception. Just because you don’t eat meat doesn’t mean you eat healthy)
Me: and yet I am vegan but I occasionally enjoy an egg. Even if I wasn’t I don’t see how its any business of yours what I order and why. Maybe I’m not vegan but just like the patty and avo?
Em: don’t be stupid you obviously did this to piss me off!! Change your order now!!!
Me: lady I’m not changing anything and you can kiss the fattest part of my ass if you don’t like it!
Em: KICK HIM OUT OF THE STORE!! KICK HIM OUT OF THE STORE!!!!
Now there is no satisfying ending to this except that my meal was ready and I grabbed it (she reached out her hand to take it but i was quicker than her) smiled at her and said “bon a petit” before leaving
There was no store manager, no men in white coats to drag this bitch away kicking and screaming and no child services rep to swoop in and save the kid
Just a crazy cunt who can’t mind her own business and me, a dude who encounters waaaay too many crazies
The devil on the fiery porch. He was back again that year, the same as he had been for five years running, keeping the majority of Trick or Treaters behind an imaginary line of uneasiness drawn at the edge of the curb with his Hell-red grin and burning cauldrons. It was a scene from Faust, only this was no play; this was my neighborhood. submitted by pp_big69 to creepypasta [link] [comments]
It wasn’t just kids who lingered apprehensively in the street, but parents as well. In a place where the definition of Halloween was more like cardboard skeletons and plastic jack-o-lanterns, a guy with a penchant for fire and pitchforks could be extraordinarily scary. Really young children were hurried past the residence altogether via lawns on the opposite side of the street, hopefully, distracted by candy long enough to save them from the psyche-scarring nightmares certain to result from even the smallest glimpse of him. This left only a few – the brave – to make the journey and collect one of the candy bars given out by the devil basking in the red glow of the doorway.
Trick or Treating in the 1970s wasn’t the flirt with death that it can be today. At that time, in most suburban settings, people lived in the same house for years and made the effort to get to know their neighbors and their neighbor’s children. It was a safe haven from the malicious world beyond; a stronghold of sterile thoughts and selective ideals. That is why it was more alarming when the occasional anti-Cleaver oddballs, like the Warren family, managed to infiltrate the peaceful utopia and upset the balance of neatly trimmed lawns and Tupperware parties. Especially when at Halloween their oldest son Wayne Warren painted himself red, donned horns, and sat on a throne between two flaming cauldrons on their sunken porch.
My first encounter with him was when my father volunteered to secure one of Satan’s fat candy bars on my behalf. I watched wide-eyed at the curb while my mother yakked up the other neighborhood mothers about the sick nature of the affair. Later that night, as I spread my bounty out upon the living room floor, she snatched the King Size Snickers that the devil had given and tossed it into the trash. Only later did I understand the action, although to my knowledge no one had ever reported any ill-effects from his confectionery treats.
The greasepaint devil quickly became a milestone of bravery for the youth of our neighborhood. As we got older, our worth was measured upon whether we had Trick or Treated his house on our own. For most of the neighborhood kids, it was a confrontation with their own childhood fears; a rite of passage. But my own eventual encounter with him reckoned with more than mere cultural demon speak. For me, it was not a conquest, but a beginning; a passageway to a haunted life well beyond the October ritual. And after what it indirectly wrought upon my life and the life of my childhood friend, Dan Rutgers, I came to realize that I had more in common with Wayne Warren than anyone would ever know.
I was old enough to Trick or Treat on my own. I had been for a few years – having entered the seventh grade – but had thus far chosen to skip the devil’s house despite my Samhain freedom. And as the candy collectors stood entwined in trepidation at the end of his lawn that night, I looked on, ready to cast away silly childhood fears. In the recessed front porch of the tan-stone house, the devil sat on a black throne, pitchfork in hand, and grinning like a madman. On either side of him, a cauldron belched hot flames, which illuminated the entire alcove with a yellow-red glow that brought a little piece of Hell right there to our suburban street. Dark music, probably borrowed from the Omen soundtrack, boomed from somewhere on the porch like a theme for a black mass, while Sounds of the Haunted House crept out of the home’s dark windows. They were opened just enough to let in some of the autumn air, which was uncharacteristically cool for Texas even in late October. Every once in a while, the devil would bark out something to the effect of “come on up kids” or just let out a string of vein-chilling laughs that echoed off of the houses and faded into the night air like a horde of goblins. As a fan of the horror film classics, somewhere inside I had begun to admire his mastery of Halloween, but the fear of something I did not fully understand still outweighed this association. The man behind the red face was something real, and that’s what made him scary to me, even if some people simply wrote him off as a self-aggrandizing jerk.
“Are we going up there?” Dan asked me as I stood at the curb siphoning the last bits of courage from my body.
Dan was a few years older and several inches taller, but we were two boys made from the same mold. We had been best friends for six years now, both possessing a fever for Hot Wheels, Big Jims, and superheroes. I could see his own reservation just under the green skin of his Incredible Hulk face. His mother was an inferno preaching Baptist and though I could not understand at the time, he grappled with issues far deeper than my own regarding the fiendish display.
“Yeah,” I answered, although I had yet to top off my courage tank.
Our mutual friend, Bob, spoke from behind his Planet of the Apes mask. “Y'all can go if ya want, but I ain’t. My brother says that guy’s a goon and he don’t wanna have ta kick his butt when he finds a razor blade in my candy bar.”
“I ain’t gonna eat the candy,” I replied, stating what I thought was obvious.
The music boomed forth with a new strain and I looked hard at the real fire, the past prime teenager in the red makeup, and the iron gates which stood open at the porch’s arc.
“Well, he ain’t gonna kill us or anything. He’s been doing this ever since I can remember and lots of kids have gone up there.” I nudged my head toward two older kids who had just been up to Satan. “They just went. And if they did then I’m going. Dan, you coming?”
Getting a yes from Dan, I put my foot onto the devil’s brown lawn and began the approach. I tried to imagine what I saw across the street the other three-hundred sixty-four days out of the year. A stony looking house with a dark porch and some skinny druggie guy coming and going in his beat-up Camero. Sometimes kissing or beating his girlfriend a little, but always giving me a chin-up nod as if to say I was cool. It was just Wayne Warren…not the devil.
Telling myself this made it a little better, but on Halloween this guy was just plain different. Just plain scary. And as I neared I tried the customary cool nod, but Wayne didn’t nod back. Instead he grinned like a mental patient and let out a laugh that resonated in the sunken porch as if it sunk all the way down to Hell.
Dan, in an attempt at proper All Hallows etiquette, moved up beside me, held out his bag, and muttered “trick or treat” which sounded ridiculous under the circumstances.
“Heh, heh, heh,” Wayne cackled and threw a Chunky bar into his bag.
Then he focused on me and my spirit-gummed wolfman face. “Something special for you my friend!” he said, reaching down beside his seat. He pulled out something, gazed at it a moment and then threw it into the sack I held open in front me as if it were my empty soul waiting for him to fill. I didn’t get a good look at it, but I didn’t care. I’d have a better look as soon as Dan and I got out of the yard.
Without any more explanation, Wayne stoked one of the cauldron fires, spit, and turned his attention to a group of approaching teenagers. Dan and I hurried back to the curb where Bob waited.
“Let’s go next door and check out whatever it was he gave me,” I said.
Squatting down under a street lamp, Dan and I pulled out our devil’s booty.
“Just a regular candy bar, but maybe there’s a razor blade in it?” he said ripping into the package and breaking the Chunky into several pieces finding nothing but chocolate inside.
Bob removed his Cornelius mask. “What’d you get?”
I pulled out the weird item Wayne had thrown into my bag and held it up in the bath of white street light. “It looks like a tooth or maybe a horn,” I said, not having seen anything like it before.
The thing was about three inches in length, jagged at one end and tapering into a curved point at the other. But instead of bone or enamel, it was made from a semi-transparent material with what looked like microscopic electronic components inside.
“Let me check it out,” Dan said grabbing it from me. “That stuff in there looks like this computer board that my dad showed me.”
I took it back and looked again beyond its translucent surface. “Computers are a lot bigger than this,” I said authoritatively.
Bob squinted at it. “That’s weird. I bet my brother knows what it is.”
“Maybe we should ask him?” I suggested.
Bob’s brother Ronnie rolled the horn-thing between his fingers as he looked at it under the desk lamp.
“Looks like it came from a robot or something. Y'all are a bunch of goons.” He tossed it back at me. “Maybe it come from that alien that crashed over in Motor Valley,” he added making a spooky whoooo sound.
“Huh?” all three of us replied.
Ronnie laughed. “I guess ya’ll were still in diapers. A few years ago, the cops and everybody went out there when something crashed in the woods between Motor Valley Road and Screaming Bridge. Supposedly, they found a blown up flying saucer, but never found any aliens. When that idiot Wayne Warren was still going to school, I heard a rumor about how he and a friend of his were out there drinking one night and found some flying saucer parts. I think that was about the time he started dressing up like Satan on Halloween. Maybe he’s givin’ out those UFO parts instead of candy; cheap ass. I think it’s all bullshit.”
With that Ronnie left Bob’s room.
We all looked again at the thing.
“Pretty cool story, man. We oughta go out there and check it out. Maybe this did come from a space ship,” I suggested.
Dan nodded. “I ain’t never seen anything like it.”
“Y'all are crazy,” Bob said, looking suspiciously at us both.
Anything good was usually off-limits. It’s the tradeoff for having parents that give a shit about you. I wasn’t allowed in the creek, not allowed to attend spin-the-bottle parties, not allowed in the yard of the kid who talked like a sailor with a belly full of gin, not allowed to ride my bike to Dairy Queen, and basically not allowed to venture beyond the small quadrant of my neighborhood. Motor Valley was definitely off my childhood map. As a result, I spent half my youth in the creek or making bike runs out of the quadrant and the other half making up plausible excuses for why I was late. So a trip to Motor Valley with my usual accomplice, Dan, was nothing too exceptional. But the possibility of dead alien creatures was, and that’s why this mission was going to happen regardless of any potential consequences. Bob, however couldn’t go. He was grounded for getting caught with a pack of his dad’s cigarettes. Looking back, I can’t blame him for finding a way out.
Motor Valley got its name from the motocross track that was built on the west end of its expanse. Except for a few ill-repaired roads that cut through it, the valley was mostly brushy Texas woods and low lying flat land which collected water to create the closest thing to a bog Central Texas could have. If something did crash in there, it was no wonder that collecting all the pieces was difficult. But since the time of the crash, which I later dated at September 30, 1972 by searching old newspapers, much of the water had been irrigated out to subsidize a local cattle feed farm making it possible to get around in the area without sinking in muck.
Dan and I biked down the road past the old junior high school and out across Highway 10 where a few industrial buildings and a bar called The Firehose stood like holdouts against the concept of renovation. These were the last few constructs of civilization before Motor Valley took over.
As we reached the end of the industrial stretch, we right turned onto Motor Valley Road, which sloped down a gradual incline until it eventually curved south and cut right through the center of the valley itself. Few cars ever came this way unless they were there to dump something or to take a short cut to Highway 10 and Dan and I pedaled down the center of the curbless macadam as if we owned it. Off to the side, either in the gullies or along the occasional dirt paths that spidered away from the road, we saw discarded relics of prosperity littering the land like pockmarks. Old washing machines, tread-bare tires, skeletal couches, and limbless dolls, in their abandoned afterlife, serving as shelters for the dark crawling creatures which hid underneath.
We stopped pedaling to coast the hill.
“Did you remember the horn thing?” Dan huffed.
“You’re gonna be grounded forever if your mom finds out about this.”
I nodded dramatically. “What did you tell your mom we were doing?”
“Going to Dairy Queen and the arcade.”
“I hope your mom and my mom don’t talk for some reason before we get back. You know how my mom is always calling to find out where I am. I told her I was just going to the arcade. She doesn’t want me going over to the Dairy Queen. She heard a story on the news where this guy went into a Dairy Queen in Lubbock and whipped out his pecker and got thrown in jail!”
Dan laughed. “Sounds like what Jimmy’s cousin did at his birthday party.”
“Didn’t some girl kick him in the nads when he did?”
“Yeah. He had to stay in bed for two weeks.”
We made the curve and headed onto the long stretch of Motor Valley Road. After more than a half-mile, we made it to the narrow side road which led down to Screaming Bridge. I’m sure that wasn’t its original name, but that was the name it went by. One of those tragic lover suicide stories went along with it. We had heard plenty about it, but had yet to make the trip out. I guess it took potential dead aliens to make it worthwhile.
Turning left, we pedaled up the side road whose name was a mystery since it had no street sign. As we crunched along its crumbling blacktop, the trees began to grow thicker, leaning over the road to form a canopy. They cast a shadow across the road like a dark tunnel. Bony branches were beginning to emerge from the clusters of leaves, which were falling away with each cool gust of autumn wind. For a moment I thought of the forest in Oz, but such a pleasant thought quickly faded. I was positive that any beasts lurking in these thorn-ridden groves would not be singing or dancing. In fact, they were not even chirping or growling. It was oddly silent, which was even more disturbing.
As we neared Screaming Bridge, the asphalt turned to sandy loam making it difficult for our bicycles despite the fact that they were the rugged Huffy models with plastic gas tanks screwed to the crossbar to emulate motorcycles. We decided to park them out of sight and go the rest of the way on foot.
The bridge was nothing, really. A dirt road that ended in a huge drop filled with sun-faded beer cans and other less identifiable trash. After taking a piss off of its edge, we headed south in the direction Ronnie had told us the UFO had supposedly crashed. I checked my pocket for the lock blade knife I had bought with my allowance prior to my last hunting trip with my father. I was no stranger to the country, having been brought along on numerous deer hunts since I was old enough to walk. But in spite of my self-proclaimed exploration expertise and my determination to expose the mystery locked away in Motor Valley, my heartbeat hard against my ribs. There was something about the place that seemed deceptive, maybe even evil, which I had not encountered in any of my previous rural expeditions.
Crisscrossing the area, we began to look for any signs of…well, whatever signs there might be of a flying saucer crash. But the undergrowth was thick and I soon realized that there would be little hope of finding anything without knowledge of the exact impact location. We wandered on though, scanning for burnt trees or any other peculiar markings.
After about thirty minutes, Dan signaled me over to a dense clump of trees where he had spotted something.
“Check this out,” he said, directing my vision past the branches to a dilapidated shack standing in a clearing twenty-five yards away. It wasn’t a UFO, but at least it was something other than trees and rocks. Dan looked openly disturbed by the possibility of who – or what – might be making it a home.
“I wonder if anyone lives there? I don’t see any cars,” I remarked.
“I thought I saw something move by that window,” Dan said solemnly.
I looked at the filmy window. “I don’t know how you could have, look how dirty it is.”
“Yeah, maybe I was seeing things. I think we better get out of here. Search back over closer to the bridge.”
“Let’s not worry about it,” I retorted, trying to look at the situation logically. “If anybody does live there, they’ll probably be real old and we could always outrun ‘em.”
Dan nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t wholeheartedly backing me on the decision.
“Let’s go this…” I began as I heard the sound of a stick crack behind us. I spun around.
Just feet from us stood a man. He looked old, but his unkempt appearance made an accurate guess at his age impossible. His hair was a brownish-gray and poked out from his head like wild grass, framing a dirty unshaven face. A demented smile revealed several missing teeth from the brown rotted mess inside his mouth. He was scratching himself through a convenient hole in his ratty overalls with a handful of long, curling nails as he leered at us.
We started to bolt.
“Hold on youngins! You boys caint just come pokin round out here without talkin to ol Licky.”
The man made a scrunching gesture with his face, which looked like the epileptic wink of a madman. We halted our retreat.
I fished for something good to say. “My dad’s looking for some firewood right back there,” I said, pointing in no particular direction. “We were just looking around.”
“You caint fool ol Licky. I knows yer out here by yerselves. If yer dad was around ya wooden look sa scared,” he said, this time fully protruding his tongue and circling it around his lips in a nervous motion.
“Really, sir…” Dan began.
But the old man cut him off. “My feelins might get hurt if ya keep lyin boy.”
“We’re sorry, but we have to get back home soon,” I added as if I were quoting from the repertoire of Wally Cleaver.
“Not bafore ya come on in and have a drink with Licky. I wanna show ya somethin.”
He began to walk towards us.
Now to this day, I can’t tell you why we went into that weirdo’s shack, but I guess we feared more what would happen if we didn’t follow his wishes than what would happen if we did. Maybe I had more faith in my knife than I should have. Regardless, I kept my eyes on the old man as he led us into the leaning gray shanty.
“You boys like co-colas?” he asked as we followed him inside.
“Uh, yeah,” I said, knowing full well that Dan was a strict 7-Up drinker, but under the circumstances figuring it wouldn’t matter.
The first thing that struck us sour about the inside of the shack was the smell. Worse than the smell of Licky himself, it was like the musty smell of an old house exponentially worsened until it reached near organic putrefaction. A snail of nausea slinked across my gut as the first thick waft of stench rolled into my lungs.
The cramped single room of the shanty was as rotted on the inside as it was on the outside. The exposed boards of the ceiling were completely gray and covered with cobwebs. An old rickety cot was shoved into one corner, a brownish stain covering its sagging middle. Over at the opposite end was a broken-down stove, resembling a leper with its rust-eaten porcelain finish. A tattered beige couch sat rotting against the long wall, almost hidden by countless piles of old water-stained magazines. They looked mostly like Playboys and Hustlers as far as I could tell. To our right sat a dusty old wooden crate. It looked to me like a coffin used back in the 1800’s. A fat rat sniffed around its base.
But the most shocking aspect of the shack was the wallpaper. Old pin-up style nudie pictures had been cut from countless magazines and stuck to every visible inch of wall. Superimposed on top of this layer were random pictures of goats and other wild beasts, taken from magazines I was not familiar with. They were all faded by the damp and rotting conditions. I had seen plenty of naked pictures in my grandfather’s garage so I wasn’t too shocked. But Dan’s religious background didn’t seem to be mixing well with the mass of nude women and goats.
“You boys wouldn’t be lookin fer a UFO would ya?” Licky asked as he began digging in a dirty box near the stove.
I peeled my eyes from a cherry-nippled blonde. “Why would you think that?” I asked.
“I’ve caught plenty a curious peoples diggin around here like moles. They think they’s gonna find some kinda alien body.”
“Why would they think that?” I asked dumbly.
“A smart boy like you sure ta know about the UFO crash over here,” Licky said pulling out two dusty bottles from the box. “Why else ya be out here nosin round?”
“Well, we’ve heard about it I guess, but I didn’t know about alien bodies.”
“These are good co-colas,” he said popping the caps off the dirty Coke bottles with his teeth and handing one each to Dan and me as he made another 360 around his chops with his tongue.
I discreetly knocked a dirt dauber’s nest off the side of my bottle and took a drink. Actually, I let the liquid touch my lips making it appear that I had taken a drink, not letting any of it slip into my mouth. Dan did the same.
“Howdoya like ol Licky’s place? You boys got names?”
“Uh, Jim,” I said making one up.
Dan delivered one too. “And Horace.”
Under any other circumstance, I would have busted out laughing. But the unsettling atmosphere suppressed any such reactions.
“I used ta have a granddaddy name, Horace. Loved him to death that ol bugger. Silly as a whistle though. Cut his own arm off one night thinkin it was a rattler.” The old man laughed loudly and moved his arm around like it was a snake.
I glanced back at the door. I felt better knowing that we stood closer to the door than Licky. I noticed Dan still staring queasily at the exotic wallpaper with a clash of curiosity and horror as if he were looking at a car wreck.
“Did you see the UFO crash?” I asked, trying to conceal my nervousness.
“Well not exactly. I come here after that.”
“You’re looking for the UFO too?”
“No, them rangers hauled that off. I’s waitin for somethin. A horn.”
With that, my heart went flatline. The thing in my pocket was in some way connected to the old man. I began to realize that maybe what Wayne Warren had said about finding some flying saucer parts may have been true.
“You ain’t happen ta see a horn out there have ya?” he said moving to the wooden crate.
“Was it a real UFO from outer space?” Dan finally kicked in.
“Yep. From a planet so far away that them stupid scientists ain’t seen it yet.”
“You never answered bout that horn,” his twang suddenly growing menacing.
Our faces began to flush.
“You little clever dickins know somethin, don’t ya?” He ran his hand across the crate like he was caressing the skin of a lover.
“Fess up boy. If you got the horn, ya cain’t resist it. I knows cuz I found the other one when I worked fer the sheriff’s office and we was out here cleanin up after the crash. I found somethin else too that the rest of em never saw.”
Fear finally slapped my common sense. I pulled the clear horn thing out of my pocket. “I got this trick or treating,” I said as I threw it to the floor behind Licky and bolted for the door. Dan turned to follow, but a deep bark stopped us mid-way. A large dog stood growling outside. We looked back at Licky fully expecting him to move in for the kill right then.
“Colossus! Simmer down!” he yelled gruffly. “He’s just a tad grumpy if ya know what I mean? Ya don’t gotta be scared of him or ol Licky. I like you boys,” he said picking up the horn.
“What do you want from us?!” I demanded.
“Now youngin don’t get all upset. You brung me this here horn that I been looking for.”
“Does that have something to do with the UFO?” I asked, trying to calm down.
“Where’d ya get it?”
“From some guy dressed up like the devil on Halloween.”
“Heh heh! I knew it!” he said with a lick. “I knew it’d find its way back here one way or another. Dressed like the devil…goddamn!”
He seemed excited by the fact that Wayne had been dressed like Satan. I wasn’t sure what the connection was between him and this old man, or if there even was one, but somehow we had been transporting something very important.
“Does that belong to an alien?” Dan asked.
“Some folks might call him an alien,” he began, “but it really belongs to the devil. I’ve been keepin his body here since his spacecraft wrecked waitin for this other horn to turn up. Sometimes it takes the dickins for things to work out. But they always do! Now I can get the rewards I deserve!”
“The devil?” I asked skeptically.
Licky patted the wooden crate. “Yes sir, he’s in here.”
We were speechless.
“I bet you boys would like to see him, wouldn’t ya?”
I shook my head slowly as tears began to well in my eyes. Dan just stood frozen as if he were looking down upon Virgil’s nine rings of hell.
“Well here he is!” Licky yelled as he flung open the crate’s lid. Its old hinges screeched like dying animal.
Inside lay the body of a creature. It was a brownish red and shriveled like the corpse of a mummy. It had arms and legs and a human-shaped torso, but they were thin and wiry. Its pointed chin and bulbous forehead made it appear like a reddish version of the little gray aliens that people always claim to see. A set of pointed teeth were thrust forward from the retracted lips, opposing the huge sunken sockets in whose valleys rested closed eyes. I could smell the acrid odor of age filling the room as if the beast were centuries old, having soaked up the stench of death and decay for an eternity. We were repulsed, though neither Dan nor I could take our eyes from the entombed thing.
“Just like in the storybooks. ‘Cept he don’t come from no Hell, he’s from up there,” Licky said pointing to the sky. “Been coming here longer en you and I can figure!” he exclaimed. “Don’t cha like em?!”
That’s when I noticed the horn. The creature had one horn identical to the one I had been given. A jagged hole at the other side of his head made it apparent that he had once possessed two.
“At last, I can raise him again! I’ll be made a prince of the sky when he sees what ol Licky’s done fer em!” the old man said, drooling a line of spit onto the creature’s chest as he began to fit the missing horn back in place.
The dog outside barked and we remained trapped between two rapidly off-balancing evils.
Licky laughed as the component finally clicked into place. A faint whir became audible from the coffin as he pulled back.
“Look close boys, ya brung back ol Nick!”
The thing began to move, not mechanically like a robot as I would have thought, but more like an organic being that had been sleeping for a long time. It sat upright as the eyes began to open. Their dark menisci looked like black mirrors as they focused on our white faces. Its skin became more supple and its lips rolled back down over his teeth. The thing smiled a grin that was beyond pure evil, that seemed to crawl through my eyes, down my throat, and squeeze the bloody pulp of my heart like a constrictor. But I resisted and so did Dan. Breaking our gaze, we ran for the door as the beast jumped from the crate.
I had been used somehow to bring the horn back to the creature. It seemed to explain my complete lack of good judgment when we followed Licky into the shack. I had been possessed by something much the way Wayne Warren had been, dressing up like the devil, probably unknowingly waiting for some adventurous kid to take the horn from him like the wind carries a seed to its final destination, where it could root and produce seed of its own.
“Ain’t you a beaut!” Licky cried.
The devil responded with a snap of his clawed hand. Blood splattered the nude-papered wall as the old man chortled and fell to the ground, callously beheaded despite his service.
“Shit!” I screamed as Dan and I burst through the door and tripped over the dog. We both hit the ground, along with the dog, in a whirlwind of confusion and gnashing teeth. I felt a few bites hit my arms, but when the devil crashed through the door the dog yelped and darted into the trees.
The creature smiled again and looked at us. It was one of those split seconds between reactions when the mind and body are trying to get into sync when the true perspective of time is lost. For a few endless seconds, the foul beast stood above us and before we could pull ourselves up to run, he turned and headed into the woods. He spun his neck around to look at us one more time as he blended into the countryside and disappeared.
Dan and I ran in the opposite direction, back toward our bikes. We said nothing as we careened through the branches and undergrowth gouging at us with fingery thorns as if it were reluctant to let us leave. It wasn’t until we had pedaled all the way back to Motor Valley Road that I finally broke the silence and confronted the reality of what had taken place.
“Do you think it was the devil?!”
Dan, terror etched into his face, shook his head. “If it was an alien and there’s more of them…”
He began to cry.
I could feel my hands trembling on the handle grips. The reality of aliens and devils or something that was both was too much for my young mind. “We can’t tell anyone,” I said.
“I don’t ever want to talk about it again.”
“Never,” was the last clear word I heard before he fell into a repetitive mumble.
If it was the devil, alien or otherwise, and we were responsible for bringing him to life… I grappled with the thought. The thought that has slowly wrested the life from me over the years like a patient serpent subduing its prey. The same thought that was responsible for the phone call I just received.
I gently sat the telephone receiver back into the cradle. It had been Dan’s sister on the line. He was found dead in his car that morning. He had been missing for weeks. She asked me if I had any idea why he would have driven out to a remote spot in Motor Valley and put a gun to his head.
I told her I didn’t know.
[Sweet Nola] - Chapter 4
Chapter 1 Nola had sent the form four months ago and it was accepted for better or worse. She had spent months finding and waiting for the perfect accommodation to show up. She had found a new school that had a bus service for Allie. In a couple of days, they will be moving to a new city. submitted by Readerstein to redditserials [link] [comments]
Nola had asked Allie and he had said what she expected. "If that's what you want, do it."
One of the work colleagues suggested a going away party for Nola which she was elated for before Dave interjected and said she's still working here. It was true. From time to time she would have to drop back to the main branch to sort her project out. She shot a disappointed look to the ceiling, to the heavens. Damn Dave! How dare he thwart my going away party! They ended up deciding to have a small party instead of a company wide, full blown one where everybody was invited like those old primary school birthday parties from rich kids.
For lunch, Vasco went around poking people working at their desk to see if they wanted to join them for her last lunch. One elderly gentlemen refused. Every day, this old skeletal man would eat lunch at his desk so it wasn't unnatural for him to turn down the offer. Nola with quiet pity, urged him amicably. It bored the hell out of her seeing these goddamn office drones so obsessed with their menial paperwork.
"Where's Dave gone?"
"Dave's meeting with his wife."
"That Dave! He's always there for everything. His wife's the only thing stopping him," said office mook number one, whose name was Marcus.
They collected three other workmates in the end: Jack, Marcus and Jane. They went down to a local gourmet style burger joint three blocks from the office. Burgers again, she thought.
They grabbed a seat beside the cashier. Marcus let out a good hearty laugh at Vasco eating his vegetarian Caesar salad.
"Didn't know you became a vegetarian Vasco, eh?"
"I've been trying to lose weight recently to make my wife happy.”
"Yeah right. I bet she complained about your beer belly."
Vasco ignored the office mook and turned his attention to Nola, "Have you found decent accommodation yet?" Vasco forked a lettuce leaf begrudgingly and put it into his mouth slowly.
"Yeah I did," she said enthusiastically, "I found a really large bungalow if the description and the pictures can be trusted. It has a large supermarket right beside it and it's not too far from the city centre or the university."
Jack and Marcus nodded in unison.
They chatted about old times, plans for the future and blah blah blah. The talk bored the hell out of Nola and she was glad when they left. Vasco paid for Nola's meal which made it sort of worth it for Nola.
Nola was having a real party with her friends tonight. Nola's friends have organised a going away party at a high end bar called Tribal. She was planning to drink away all her worries of her uncertain future. She made some small talk with Jane as they walked back. She was so quiet that she almost forgot she was part of the party and not a random stranger sitting in their table. She invited Jane to it but she turned down the offer.
She messaged if Eleanor wanted to come over and even urged her to come to the bar to meet and mingle with her friends. She staunchly rejected her proposal as always and wanted to babysit Allie instead.
The next day, she woke up on the couch in the large living room. Allie sat in front of the upright piano by the wall. His hand was gliding over the keys effortlessly, hovering like a ghost that haunted the piano. Back and forth it went. Nola saw what he was doing. He was ghost playing and sight-reading. The music sheet in front of him was Liszt's Liebesträume No.3, Love's Dream. Nola read a bit about music so she could share some trivia with Allie. She had learnt that Fran Liszt was a virtuoso in piano who kept a single hairstyle all his life. Allie's hand stopped and his fingers fell gently on the keys to sound the dream. Allie played a simplified version of his piece, not because he lacked the skill to play the original, but because his hands were too small.
Fragments of the dream that Nola woke up from were still in her memory. In her childhood there was a neighbour she visited often when her older sisters refused to include her in their games. The neighbour was a boy who was a year older than her. She always treated him like how her own older sisters treated her which was to say, not equal in any way.
He was a small ginger boy whose mother was devoutly religious. She remembered they went to mass every Sunday. How he dressed in a little kid suit and she always waited dearly for him to come back and play. She didn't know what they did in mass but she wished she got to dress like the other girls going to church.
Thinking back, the ginger boy was her most intimate friend. She never thought of him as her best friend but he was. She never put much thought in their relationship and one day she moved away. She had even forgotten about his very existence until she had this dream.
She felt ashamed. Feeling groggy from the alcohol didn't help either.
Allie continued playing in a gentle pianissimo. The piece became a soft lullaby as it reached the final third which he repeated again in his own intricate variation.
"Morning," Nola's voice was rasp from all the alcohol she downed last night.
"Morning." Allie repeated without missing a single beat.
"Did Eleanor leave?"
"She said she had to go the music wooniversity."
"University." Nola corrected Allie who would stumble on long words occasionally.
"Yeah, university. She said she'd be back later. I wanted to finish this song with her." He stopped playing and looked at Nola with a wide smile. "We're adding our own parts to it to make it better."
Nola laughed at him saying song. She saw how Eleanor's eyebrows twitched whenever Allie referred a music piece as a song.
Nola thought that they should have their own private party.
"Let's have our own party tomorrow and invite Eleanor. What kind of food does Eleanor like?" She asked about Eleanor because she had the tastes and pickiness of a queen. At the buffet in Paris, she refused to eat many of the dishes that were top of the line. She was a very fastidious lady. Probably a trait of an artist is to be picky, she thought.
"Ham and pineapple pizza!"
"Okie dokie." She observed his little beautiful face, so radiant with joy that it blinded her hung-over eyes. "We're moving tomorrow. Do you still miss here?"
"No, no," he shook his head cutely, "as long as we're still together."
They decided they were going to have a pineapple pizza party at the new home. She invited Eleanor who was sure to come. Her friend Matt was going to drive them there. He told her he owned a big jeep.
Nola started packing the essentials for the road trip tomorrow. Two large luggage bags were on the floor. She looked thoughtfully. Thoughtfully lost.
"Clothes, yes. The essentials." She stuffed her own and Allie's favourite clothes together into the luggage.
She then took out her list that she composed during work. Toiletries, make-up case, medikit, towels, electronics...
She went over to the bookshelf in the sitting room to pick out a photo album. Maybe I'll bring one album to look back on. It could curb homesickness. She flicked open a random page.
She saw a nine year old of herself sitting with her two older sisters at a restaurant. Her eldest sister Anna was ten years older than her and had raven black hair which nobody in the family had. Another photo with herself and her parents. She remembered Silvie taking this photo. It reminded her that she needed to get their signatures for Allie's new school.
She flicked through the pages looking for someone. She grabbed another one and leafed through it. The albums piled up until she finally found one with her neighbour, the little ginger boy. She told herself she wouldn't forget him again.
Matt was a friend of Nola who incidentally had a jeep for the journey. Eleanor wheeled Allie out. Eleanor wore an elegant sundress with knee high socks and long silk gloves. All clothed in complete white with a large sunhat to top it. Allie wore a cheap t-shirt and shorts that Nola bought from Pennys, her favourite store, in the discount aisle so it was extremely cheap. Three euro for the whole outfit.
Matt opened the boot and helped Nola throw in the luggage. Nola collapsed Allie's wheelchair and placed it flat on top. Matt had to be on his toes to reach the top of the boot to close it. Matt was short, a good head lower than Nola who was a bit above average in height. He had long wavy black hair that was really greasy. He wore a tight fitting dark blue t-shirt that might as well have been black because it was so dark. His jeans were the typical light blue and he wore black shoes that matched with the colour scheme of his t-shirt and his greasy black hair.
Short men can be generalised into two groups from Nola's experience. The potbellied jolly type and the easily angered type. Nola had noticed in her social circles that a lot of short men seem to have short tempers. It must have had something to do with always being at the short end of things or recompensating for being small, she theorised. Matt was the latter who always gave a good laugh and fitted into any group regardless of his stature. The type of person that you would feel comfortable confiding with. He reminded Nola of Dave but in a good way.
Nola took the front passenger seat while Allie and Eleanor sat at the back. Eleanor looked at Matt and saw some sort of pig-like abomination and tried to ignore him as best as she could. It was going to be a three hour journey. She tipped her sunhat down to doze off and to prevent Matt from seeing her face. He had a lecherous look to him, like somebody who hits on women above their weight and height so to speak.
The jeep Matt was driving was actually his father's. His father was a doctor and so Matt has never needed to work a single job in his entire life. He couldn't keep one even if he tried. His father told him to get a job once. He got a job as a barista. He spilled a cup of scalding hot coffee on his own hand and that was that. Such was the curse of being affluent, he thought. It's not my fault that I can't work jobs below my status.
"I bought a new phone yesterday. Latest model. It has the latest camera A.I. Technology. And it-"
Matt listed out the specs of his new phone that threw Nola into instant slumber. Matt looked across, hoping to see Nola's reaction when she didn't react. Her mouth was agape and she was drooling. Matt looked ahead into the distance of the endless motorway. This was going to be a long drive.
"Alex", he called out. "Yo, Alex."
"Alright Alex... What do you think of Nola?" Matt was interested in Nola. He knew there was no such things as male and female friends. It was a global truth that only woman were oblivious to this fact. Either they're pretending when they have an unattractive male friend or they were truly oblivious in their flaunting of sexuality. Matt will never know since he had never dated anybody.
"Nola? She's the most beautiful and kindest person in the whole wide world. She lets me have ice-cream on weekdays but not on weekends though."
True, true, Matt nodded on the nicest person part and beautiful part.
"What's she like at home? Like what do you for fun together?"
Matt glanced at the rear-view mirror and saw the child's eyes lost in wonder looking at the fields of sheep and cows. This stupid kid, he thought. A lot of the times Nola had turned down nights out to take care of this crippled child. "Here's a fun fact: Did you know that if a rabbit doesn't find a partner for themselves, it dies of loneliness."
"That's such a sad fact!" Dear Eleanor now awoke and looking quite scrumptious in her gothic black dress. She was an artist all right. Off the hinge, Matt suspected. "Why would you tell him that?"
"You missed the point. I’m trying to say that people aren't meant to be alone. Humans are far more intelligent that can carry more emotional burden and we use our intelligence to convince ourselves that we can live alone." Matt explained his hypothesis. He was just improvising his thoughts on the spot but had started to believe his own hypothesis the more he spoke of it.
"I was perfectly fine alone. It's one of the reason I'm a successful pianist, a world renowned pianist," Eleanor placed extra emphasis on the word renowned, "I could practice by myself without speaking to anybody for month's end." Eleanor was visibly agitated and her voice shook. She didn't like queer strangers like Matt. Matt knew he struck a chord with her and continued wanting to prove his newly formed hypothesis.
"You had a good long run until you met Nola."
"It wasn't Nola I met, please. It was my sweet Allie."
"I remember", Allie interjected, "I asked Nola I wanted to see the performance live."
"Yes, it was fated! Allie and Ellie. Fated!" Her voice was starting to rise to soprano levels. The conversation from both sides was getting hysterical by the second. Matt began to get defensive about his well thought out theory that Eleanor attacked with nonsensical statements. She forgot want she was arguing and she just wanted to viciously humiliate him.
At that point, Nola awoke to the rapid fire crisscrossing of passive aggressive remarks.
"What are you guys talking about?"
"Nothing." said Eleanor.
"What did I miss?" Nola looked at Matt.
Matt t-shirt was drenched in sweat and his hair looked greasier than normal.
"Ha-ha. You look like you're being cooked. Matt, why don't you open the window a bit?"
Matt obliged. Crazy woman are scary, he thought.
They arrived at the new city and got stuck in traffic. When they drove into the estate, Nola spotted a middle aged lady waving at them. It was the landlady for their new home.
They got out of the jeep and the party greeted the landlord. She was a black haired, stout lady wearing an oversized purple sweater. She had a big smile on her face and shook hands with all of them.
"Wow, I didn't know I was renting to four people!” the landlady was clearly joking. "I'm Joan, nice to meet you all! You must be Alex. I think you will find it very pleasant here. It’s a bungalow and we don't have a basement so no stairs at all. I think you'll find it perfectly suited for you."
Nola examined the house. By the look of it, it was refurbished due to how modern it looked compared to the neighbours' houses which were all in a different style.
They exchanged the usual pleasantries, talking about the weather, the ride and life in the capital city.
"You'll like it here I think. They call it a city but it's nothing more than a big town. The university's just down the road, there's a supermarket, a library, a boxing gym down the other direction-" Nola's eyes lit up, "-and there's a large running track but that's about a fifteen minute walk from here."
They followed her in the house. Eleanor slunk to the back, pushing Allie who was intrigued at the sight of his new home.
It all felt too perfect. The cost was on the higher end of the spectrum. More often than not, they looked more spacious in photos but it wasn't the case here. Nola had expected some catch.
"I used to rent to students. Oh, it was such a mess. especially since I just got the renovations done and I couldn't stand the thought of students here ever again. That was the last time I rented to students." So it was renovated Nola thought. "Oh, but you're mature and working while you're studying," Joan the landlady corrected herself.
A door opened as they were walking through the corridor. A large shadow loomed over the guests. Nola's eyes widened. What looked like a huge lard of lubber came out.
"Oh, let me introduce you to Lauren. You will be sharing the house together."
Nola heard nothing of this when she spoke to Joan on the phone and email. The price was a bit too good from what it was. The landlady saw Nola relaxing and knew she had her. Nola planned to have a good long talk to her later and composed herself.
"This is Nola, Matt, Alex and Eleanor." Nola shook her large tubby hands. She had the physique of the puffer fish from Spongebob Squarepants.
"Nice to meet you." Nola examined her like a specimen. Lauren was ninety percent blubber and she guessed she ate a minimal of ten deep fat fried meals a day. Nola didn't mind fat people, she was worried that she could get diabetes since her own grandmother probably weighed the same as her and she got diabetes from being obese. Once she visited a nursing home and saw a young man in his mid-thirties. She found it strange that he was missing both of his legs. He must be a Soviet soldier who lost both of his legs in the war, she thought. Nola asked the nurse about him. The nurse told her his diabetes got to the point where they had to saw off his legs.
Eleanor just looked on ahead, unfazed at the colossal sight blocking the corridor. What an elephant, she thought, an elephant in the room.
"She fa-". Eleanor covered Allie's mouth.
"Wow what a f-" Eleanor swung her leg to land a striking blow into Matt's leg that sent him spluttering a compliment to the house. Eleanor didn't expect an ounce of decency out of Matt's mutt.
"I'm gonna take a walk outside to take a breather." Matt said as he wiped the tears streaming down his face.
Allie was remarkable open even in children. He was not afraid of sprouting whatever truth that currently occupied his mind. Eleanor liked his honesty but even she knew there were some things better left unsaid. Especially if this land lubber was going to live with them and they would need to get along.
Lauren as if sensing she was being eyed like an animal, broke the silence of the observation. "I'm just here for the time being. I'm engaged and I'll be moving out next year. My fiancé and I had saved enough and we're looking to buy a new house soon."
Joan was thankful she explained it instead of her. That way it didn't feel like she had to apologise for deceiving a tenant.
"Congratulations!" Nola said. "You have to tell me about that later." Nola looked forward to hearing about the romantic escapades from her new roommate. Nola had stayed at home for her bachelor's degree and so she secretly felt excited that she has a roommate for the very first time.
Nola smiled widely at the really fat lady. She guessed that her profession was probably a programmer or some other engineering type job. The type of discipline that was filled completely with men and so a woman who studied in those courses meant she was going to be strange.
They went together to the kitchen for some tea and biscuits. Eleanor looked disgusted at the sight of multiple layers of fat folding onto itself when Lauren sat down, the fat from her ass spilling off the chair. She was mesmerised at the five layers of fat rolls that was able to sprout from the human body. She looked at Nola chatting away like the social bird she was. She learnt that Lauren was a software engineer and worked from home now. Nola was prying through the awkward social barrier that all engineers have and befriending her quite easily.
"-Allie loved that movie as well."
Lauren talked about her boyfriend and how they were big fans of the newest Marvel movie coming out. Nola said she wanted to see it as well and invited them. Joan was lost amidst the geek talk and chatted enthusiastically with Allie. Eleanor just sat still like a statue. Lauren gave a quick glance at Allie and didn't feel like lugging around a cripple boy to the cinema. Nola already knew of the prejudice that people had when they saw Allie and reassured her that it was just herself. She wanted to make the movie was good and appropriate for Allie and she didn't mind two viewings.
"My boyfriend and I are the biggest sci-fi and fantasy nerds," Lauren was spluttering having finally found a female friend that shared her interest.
Eleanor made a face of disgust at their nerd talk.
Nola asked if they wanted to all get pizza together. Then Eleanor and Lauren argued on what toppings they liked on their pizza that went on for a while until Matt came back and acted as a mediator to settle the food war.
They ordered pizza from Supermacs on Deliveriloo with Nola paying and tipping a tenner to the delivery boy as customary. The delivery man thought she made a mistake and told her the order has already been paid. Nola let out a laugh and told him she knew.
It was important that every food courier earned extra since they were important workers in society, especially when they had to cycle through the heavy rain and wind. These people deserve more than the office workers like myself who sat on their fat asses all day long. This was Nola's thought.
Matt and Eleanor left at night. Eleanor, normally cool and collected, looked teary-eyed. She stuck herself out the back window and waved goodbye with her handkerchief and reassured Nola and Allie that she'll visit. Nola and Allie waved back and went back inside what was now their new home.
D100 floors for the magical tower that just appeared
submitted by Solucioneador to d100 [link] [comments]
It can be puzzles, combat, a rolplaying scene... But THEY NEED TO HAVE A CONDITION TO PASS TO THE NEXT FLOOR
- It's a tavern perfectly seted up for some quick dates, in order to continue o the next floor the PCs need to find the love of their life.
- It's just a trapdoor on the ceiling, but it's really far away from the floor, around 5 meters
- It's a giant armadillo they need to defeat, but he refuses to fight and is made a ball so they can't attack him, they need to convince him into combat. If he surrenders it still counts as a victory.
- A magic tic tac toe that makes Xs appear where it's touched and places Os where it needs in order to play with a perfect strategy, you can use the Google tic tac toe in impossible mode. In order to continue they need to win either by pressing two tiles at the same time (the board won't make his move until it's released) or by pressing a tile already occupied by an O
- It's a TV quizz show called Know your monsters, the host is a humanoid bee and when asked any questions the correct answer will be B. Their opponents are a group of humanoid snakes that will always answer C (sssssssce) they only need to answer one question correctly to win since their oponents will always be wrong. You can ask random things from the monsters manual but preferably not statistics but colors of things or height, just to avoid meta.
- Remember that game, "the floor is lava"? The floor is not lava -- the heat and toxic fumes would make the game impossible to play -- but a black pudding. There are several "islands" throughout the room -- a slowing dissolving wooden chest, a stone statue of a historic figure, a suit of pitted plate armor, the corpse inside sizzling and smoking -- at various distances that the players can jump to in order to reach the exit. (Or they can just boldly wade through, damage and corrosion be damned!) Each "island" poses its own challenges in terms of footing, length of time it can be stood on, how much weight it can support, and so on. Oh, and remember a black pudding can punch you with its pseudopod.
- The BDP: You open the door to find a rather plain waiting area where various monsters and surprisingly enough adventurers are waiting in line. Out of the 12 teller windows only 3 are active at any given time and are manned by mindless zombies. On a successful dungeoneering check will gove the realization that the adventurers have entered the Bureau for Dungeon Placement. A sign in abyssal tells the adventurers what line they must enter and what forms they need to fill out but not in what order and may have to reenter the line upon failure to be in the right line with the right paperwork. A line takes 1d4 hours to get to the front. All monsters and npc adventurers start off with a hostile attitude towards the adventurers of they try to speed things up and cut to the front. Once everything has been properly filled/signed/stamped the adventurers are shown to the door that will lead them to the next floor.
- A sphynx who wants the answer to a riddle, but can't remember the riddle. Asks the party for a good riddle to stump the next group of adventurers with and only let's them pass if they come up with a really good one. A few levels later, you encounter a troll who demands you answer his riddle. He's giddy about how hard the riddle is, and taunts you with the impossibility of it, and how you'll never ever get it right. He says if you get the riddle wrong, he gets to eat one of you, and demands you pick out the person that he gets to eat ahead of time. And then you pick out that person, and he says, no, not that one, I don't like the look of that one -- too fat/skinny/ugly/whatever, no, I want that one, and he picks out a different person, and haggles endlessly, until finally you reach a deal. And then at last he tells you the riddle, which is the riddle you told to the sphinx a few floors ago. Of course you know the answer. He flies into a rage and attacks you.
- A movie theater with a really bad movie playing. The PCs have to make saving throws in order to resist the psychic damage of the most horrible plot the DM can come up with (think of things like Santa going to high school or Romeo and Juliet but it’s told by a ghetto version of Tybalt). When the room is searched there is no exit, but once the movie is finished the lights will come on and a very obvious exit will appear.
- A waiting room filled with other adventurers on various different quests. There’s a ticker by the door with a double digit number on it and a small wheel of tickets with numbers on them. The players take a short rest before their numbers are shown and they can go through the door.
- Several monsters or previous enemies just sitting at various tables playing different casino games. To get to the next floor each of the party members needs to win one game each. When they do they will be given a key shaped like a casino chip which they can use to open the door to the next floor. And remember, the baddies play for bets.
- A library labyrinth. When the PCs enter they will see a very lost wizarding college student. They will ask the PCs to help them find a book that they think will help them get to the next floor. Upon finding the book it will act as a lever opening a secret passage. The student, however, will ignore the hidden door and rip the book off the shelf breaking something that a poor gnome worked very hard on. He will take the book with the wires still attached and head back into the Labyrinth thanking the party.
- It's goats! The entire floor is a pastoral meadow full of goats. Why are there so many goats? You are unsure but they seem peaceful.
- It's a giant talking head calling itself Olmec, it challenges you to run through a darkly lit five story maze to try to find an idol. Masked men will jump out and attack you as you search for the idol.
- At the center of this room is an elegant fountain, an inscription on it claims that whoever bathes in the fountain will be as ageless and strong as a mountain. Any part of the body that actually touches the water will turn to stone. Warning: Drinking the water will kill you. The stairs are just behind it, its just to see if they are dumb enough to use the fountain.
- It's a goblinoid street festival! Jolly goblin and bugbear merchants attempt to hawk all manner of strange festival foods! From honeyed mushrooms to fried rat skewers, horse jerky and moss based salads. Various events can occur, like: (1)a lost child that needs to find his mother, (2)a guard trying to stop some thieves from pickpocketing, (3)a store owner that needs a way to publicitate his shop, (4) a circus artists whose asisstant, a parrot that has been shapeshifted to a human, is missing and they need to find it by looking for someone that only repeats what they hear or acts socially awkward. The first can lead them to kenkus. If the group is splitted they can end up trying to publicitate enemisted shops, trying to help both the pickpocketers and the guard, helping both the mother and the kid... But you can come up with your own ideas for events and when you are done you can make them find a key or the door for the next floor to appear.
- The Ball Pit - The Room is filled with colorful little hollow balls, each the size of softball. It is neck deep on a tall human (at least six feet deep). Somewhere in the pool of spheres is a trigger or switch that will lower a rope from the ceiling and the exit there. There is an antimagic field near the ceiling that cancels magical attempts to reach it, and the walls on all sides are slick as wet ice and impossible to climb. On the plus side, any fall drops you safely into the ball pit.
- The shooting gallery from Zelda Ocarina of Time. Gotta play to win, gotta win to escape. (At least one player from the part must hit all the targets, DM sets a series of increasingly difficult attack rolls )
- An awkward dinner party with the villain’s parents, who keep apologizing for what they’ve done. Players who can successfully change the subject of the conversation escape.
- A huge room filled with desks, hundreds of people sitting nervously. Yes, it’s your calculus final, and none of you have studied. At least one player must pass a math quiz to escape .
- David S. Pumpkins https://youtu.be/rS00xWnqwvI, when he finishes dancing and asks for questions he banishes, he will now appear every d4+1 floors, rolling again everytime he appears to make it unpredictable. You can be creative with the scenarios he appears in, like in a riddle in which one of the skeletons always lies and the other tells the truth and there are 2 doors, the one the skeletons act as if was the door with the stairway contains David S. Pumpkins or similar scenarios to surprise your players
- Nothing but chickens. The whole floor is a well-appointed coop with straw on the floor (that magically refreshes twice a day), bins for water and food, lots of little hutches for roosting. Every day at noon, a swarm of insects materializes, and the chickens go apeshit hunting them down. In order to pass to the next level of the tower, the characters must find the golden egg that one of the chickens has laid. There is a cup to fit it in the very center of the floor, but no other indication of what to do. Any non-golden egg placed in the cup explodes and does 6d8 force damage to anyone within 20 feet (DC 15 DEX for half). This explosion leaves the chickens unharmed.
- March in Minnesota - The air is crisp, clean, and heading to warmth. A near by window lets in light that is warm and inviting. On the far side of the room is a door out. It is roughly 300 feet across with a rough and uneven floor, but not s much as to make walking difficult. Maybe you will stub a toe, but that's the worst danger. As soon as the PCs take a single step in, snow plummets from the sky, burying everything in a depth of snow that varies per ten foot square from one inch to approximately three hundred inches (3d100 - 2). Situated near the door are exactly enough snow shovels for each party member. There is also a sign that states "All Walkways must be clear or fines levied." A diagram shows a wide (20 foot x 100 foot path) that stretches from one wall to the next path labelled Driveway and a smaller path stretching from door to door five feet wide and 300 feet long. Failure to try and open the door without clearing the snow form the pathways results in a arctic cold blast that deals cold damage to the entire party. Once the pathways are clear, the door unlocks. Room Notes: The Pathway is in a vague "T" shape, with the driveway path ending randomly in a snowbank that may or may not have been randomly plowed up by a jack ass snow plow man. Every Hour there is a 5% chance for more snow to fall. This snow will fall on each square, especially those recently shoveled. I would estimate that for a fit shoveler about 4–5 tons an hour is about right. For a non fit shoveler I would expect 2–3 tons per hour. 20x20x6 block of snow weighs roughly one ton.
- A trophy room, filled with various awards, though your party gets nervous when they see their own names on empty plaques meant for mounting animal heads. DC 18 investigation check reveals a trap door lever- it’s an elk antler you have to turn just right.
- the nicest bathroom anyone has ever seen, with the friendliest and most stylish bathroom attendant you’ve ever met. With a uniform that neatly pressed and a smile that warm and accommodating you almost can ignore the fact that it’s a fiend. The last toilet stall conceals an escape tunnel- players flush themselves like Harry Potter OR fight the fiend to escape.
- A large cratered and barren field a few hundred feet across with a line of trenches on either side. The trenches stretch as far as the eye can see in either direction, and both are filled with strangely dressed soldiers speaking unfamiliar languages that are engaged in firing strange weapons at each other. The party emerges in one of the trenches, and peering over the top of their trench over at the other can plainly see the exit door standing behind the other trench.
- A wall has Draconic text on it. Shouting loudly at them in draconic will cause them to glow, revealing the exit in the process. Disturbing the runes in any other way summons a dragon of appropriate level, which is fiercely aggressive towards the party regardless of normal alignment. Upon it's defeat, the exit it revealed.
- The door to this floor simply leads to another door, and another, and another. An infinite demiplane of two-way hallways of doors stretches out from it. A third-person omniscient narrator comments on the party' s actions, occasionally dropping vague hints at the solution but primarily to make fun of the players. The solution is to keep more than 10 doors open; they close automatically, but can be propped open or broken. This many hallways revealed at once destabilizes the apparently low-level demiplane, causing the next opened door to lead to the next floor. The more doors that are open, the more odd and stilted the narrator sounds.
- On this floor, mirrors make up the walls and ceiling. There is no visible exit door, apart from the one that was used to enter the room. Attempting to break a mirror fails, and causes psychic damage equal to the damage that the player would have dealt to the mirror. A successful DC15 perception check reveals that the mirrors are very slightly delayed from what they are reflecting, similar to a low-quality camera. The solution is to damage a party member without damaging the mirror; the mirror will be shattered, and the party member that was damaged will disappear from all mirrors in the room. After all the party members disappear from the mirrors, the mirror image of the door that was uses to enter the room becomes a door of it's own, which leads to the next floor.
- A room where there is some texts on the wall in a language that none of the party understands. This room is protected by divination magic as if there is a 5th level counter spell which is displayed as a flash of blue light. this can be dispelled with a successful DC 19 dispel magic or a fifth level spell slot. There is also a table with 5 or so syringes on it. If one of the players is punctured by it by any means they must make a DC 25 con save or suffer the effects. Which are that you learn one language and are able to read, write and speak it but loses all other languages in the process. After 1 minute they will need to take another con save DC 15 if successful nothing happens and don’t need to roll anymore saves. If failed then their bones start to turn to liquid making it hard to perform gestures and you attack at disadvantage. After another minute they will need to perform another DC 14 con save if successful then nothing happens on a fail there legs start to turn into liquid your movement speed is halved and you have disadvantage on dex saves. Another minute goes by and another con save DC 14 if successful nothing happens if failed their entire body turns into goop giving them 10ft move speed and a 10ft climb speed they can fit though gaps 1 inch in size, they cannot use somatic components, and they are now classified as an ooze. This can be entirely cured by a greater restoration spell but will be put back one level by a lesser restoration spell. But if it is removed entirely the person forgets that language entirely and everything they have read with it. One of the syringes gives you the language you need and all they need to do is say the text on the wall which can be whatever you want. After someone says it all the effects from the syringes go away and a door opens letting you continue.
- A room containing a deep blue slime, capable of communication (somehow), that demands that the PCs play a game of some kind before continuing. Cards, dice, or on the mysterious screen devices in the room - doesn't matter, they know them all. (the roll involved depends on the game and the playstyle - bluffing requires charisma, strategy games require wisdom, and so on.) If the PCs lose the game, the slime gets very smug about it and proclaims them to be brainless newbies. Mentioning the irony of it calling someone brainless will get him angry. If the PCs win the game, the slime gets very angry about it and proclaims them to be cheating scrubs and demands a rematch. The slime is very very easily provoked into arguing for hours about the best strategy for any game in particular (it calls it 'the meta') and takes them very, very seriously. If at any point the argument of the PCs becomes something along the lines of "It's just a game", regardless of the context, the slime metaphorically explodes in anger, and then shortly thereafter literally explodes with anger. This allows the PCs to continue. Alternatively, after a full 3 hours of arguing with the PCs about The Meta, (during which a lot of arguments will be repeats of previous ones, regardless of what the PCs say) the slime will proclaim the PCs to be so completely trash that they're not even worth talking to and playing with, and demanding that they leave. (not in those exact words, most likely!) This will also allow the PCs to leave. (Added side note: Any PC brave or foolish enough to taste test the blue slime - pre or post explosion - will find that it tastes oddly sweet, and makes the PC in question feel energized... at least for an hour, and then they feel just a bit sleepy for an hour afterwards. If it's tasted pre-explosion, the slime may be slightly perturbed, but will continue with the above actions regardless unless repeatedly ingested, at which point it will skip to demanding the players leave - after all, trying to eat someone up while they're arguing with you is just plain rude.)
- A very large room that appears to be hosting a concert of a band of orcs (or suitable equivalent) playing extremely loud rock ballads, EDM music, and other such, regardless of the standard period music of the adventure. The difficulty isn't in finding the exit - it's plainly marked at the other side of the room - but in getting to it, pushing through a throng of drunk and rowdy concert goers while dealing with music so loud that you can feel it modifying your heartbeat through shear force. It's not deafening, though... more's the pity (?).
- A room containing one incredibly sweet looking individual (your choice of race, gender and so on - pick whatever your table would find most cute.) at an artist's table, with a door to the next floor on the other side. The individual turns out to be an artist, and would love to show you one of their sketchbooks - you don't have to look through it at all, simply say you're busy and move on, but they'll be very disheartened if you don't. If the PCs do look through, they find that the art is very very well drawn - but also that subject matter both impressively eclectic, and incredibly, ah... 'candid', if you catch my meaning. (It's up to you to decide which meaning would be most appropriate to your table. tread cautiously, and keep it funny!) It's not as if the drawings will cause madness akin to Cthulhu or anything, thankfully, but likely they wouldn't expect these kind of drawings from someone this cute. A compliment of their art will make the individual very very happy, but again, isn't necessary to pass through.
- A room covered in very obvious tile switches on the floor, with a sign reading "STEP TWO STEP TWO.", and faint dance music playing (in 2/4 time, importantly). The tiles are labeled with numbers 1 to 9, in a seemingly random order, though there is a path of 2s leading to the door. Stepping on the tiles at random leads to the tiles seemingly randomly flinging the PCs back to the entrance - it makes them hit the wall, but thankfully the wall is cushioned so as not to harm them. The trick is to step onto the tiles in time with the beat - the actual tiles stepped on doesn't matter, it's simply the timing. If the PCs decide to make their steps into funky dance moves, the room gives them a little extra bonus when they hit the exit door - namely, a well made outfit tailored just right for the PC in question, and perfectly appropriate for dancing in. (This outfit may end up modified slightly in style depending on the dance moves in particular used - in particular, performing an actual two step will garner a masterfully crafted outfit of appropriate style (What the appropriate style is depends, of course, on the kind of two step performed - there's more then one! Look it up!) that's suitable for enchantments.)
- A room with a sign in the middle reading 'REST STOP', with a set of lovely cushioned seats (or just cushions, if you prefer), one for each party member, set around a table with some well made jam and bread, alongside a pot of tea - just enough for one cup per member. If they have any pets or animal-like followers, there's also some appropriate food and drink for them. If the party doesn't like tea, or jam and bread, replace it with something they'd prefer. The door to the next floor is available at any point in time - The room itself is perfectly safe to take a short rest in, although perhaps a bit too small for people to lie down and sleep in without having to lie on top of one another. There's nothing particularly special about the food and drink presented, but it is quite well made and is enough to satisfy whatever hunger might be present, if any.
- An empty room with an ordinary locked door. The door can't be damaged and the lock can't be picked. The door is unlocked the second time an individual touches it.
- The party enter into a room only lit by a singular spotlight on an empty space in the middle of the room (this might freak the party out on its own). Once the party moves further into the room (be it into the spotlight or not) more light will turn on, revealing 4-5 wealthy looking nobles, businessmen or merchants. In front of the prior lit area is now a pedestal with a item on top. One of the men will say something along the lines of "Well, well, well... What do you bring into.... The Lions Den! What spectacular item do you think is worthy of our investment?" It's like the program Shark Tank, the party has to convince one of the merchants/nobles to buy their product. The problem is the product is something entirely useless; a small block of wood, a wet cloth, a tin cup with lots of dents. The merchants might take everything very serious and with a stone expression, they might take it as an insult that the party tries to pitch this worthless junk to them. Once the party convinces anyone of the merchants to invest in their product, a door will open behind that person.
- The party walk into a tavern. It's almost full, but there's a table or two with enough room for the party. In one end a stage is setup and what seems like a farmer is trying a few jokes - it's open mic night! The party, either all of them or just one person, needs to take to the stage and deliver a good joke. Be it a short one liner or a more elaborate story, they have to get a laugh out of the audience, which might prove a bit rough. Then a door will open at the other end of the room. If the party manages to get you, the DM, to actually laugh, award them with something - the patrons might toss a few gold coins, they might have a shop in town and offer the party a discount next time they stop by.
- It's a quite large room, or a forest clearing, whatever you feel like. On one side of the room is a large pile of huge stones, weirdly rectangular, each stone being approximately 4m x 2,1m x 1m and weighing about 20 tonnes. On the other side is a smaller, but still human-height stone with some Sylvan inscriptions. If they don't know Sylvan, a successful investigation/intelligence roll will let them know it's a set of instructions. On the smaller stone is also a somewhat washed out 'picture' depicting the structure they need to build. Yep - it's the Stonehenge, and they need to build it The hard part should not be figuring this out, but actually moving these heavy rocks - unless they have a Bear Totem Goliath Barbarian with 24 STR or something, they can't really move the stones weighing 20 tonnes. Maybe the rogue got some rope and pullies, maybe they got a 10 foot pole to use as a leverage, maybe the mage got some useful spell - using fireball to explode the stones up (they are either hardy enough or indestructible), or of they have no idea, a set of good strength rolls should be enough. Once they've set it up, a druid will come and thank them for their service, and show them the way onwards.
- The door to the room has "Little Shop of Horticulture" written on it. When the party walks inside they see a massive store with all kinds of plants. In the center of the room is a giant Venus flytrap that keeps repeating "FEED ME SEYMOUR" The shopkeeper is a dick and won't let them leave without buying one of the most expensive items in the store, but he also has a name tag that says Seymour. If he's feed to the fly trap the party can leave.
- A goblin's birthday party. In the center of this room is a small crudely made birthday cake sitting atop it a table. 1d4+1 goblins surround it, one of which is wearing a poorly made construction paper party hat. Along one edge of the wall is a table containing gifts (things from the trinket list) from each goblin in the room. Across the room is a door to the next floor. The goblins will want the players to stay and celebrate with them and be sad if they leave.
- The room is filled with 100 cats, and one of the cats is speaking common to the other cats, gossiping about the adventurers that have arrived on the floor, maybe insulting them a little. The common speaking cat mentions they know where the key to the door to the next floor is but would never tell a bunch of idiots like this group. Common speaking cat doesn't know they are speaking common, thinks they are speaking cat. It is difficult to tell which cat is speaking common since they all move their mouths the same way and are constantly moving. Cat's can be interrogated via speak with animals, to provide advice as to what the common speaking cat sounds like. Perhaps threatening to start killing cats to blackmail the common speaking cat could work as well. If group suggests starting to intimidate random cats, have them roll D100 and choose a random number, if that number happens to be rolled, then they grabbed the correct cat. Key is adhered to the common speaking cats furry belly and can be inserted into the door which has stairs leading to the floor above.
Three Character Backstories I Would Like to Expand On and/or Continue: What should be expanded on? Left out? Where would you like to see the narrative go? ANY other narrative or writing critique is welcome.
Idryl's first hundred or so years were charmed. The son of the patriarch to a wealthy, influential merchant family and an elf. He had access to nearly all of life’s luxuries; his natural grace and allure opened the few doors his family’s money or name did not. Half breeds were rarely so blessed. Not that Idryl’s early life was entirely without hardship. For one, he never knew his mother. His father was mum on the topic and the elves they traded with had always spurned him. Elves had turned their backs on him so he saw no issue with returning the gesture. He never went so far as to hate his elvish half. He knew where his preternatural athleticism came from and the attention he gained from women, and even a few men, was rarely unwarranted. submitted by 85chadillac to fantasywriters [link] [comments]
There was also the occasional human who was less accepting of his elvish half. Those narrow-minded individuals were encountered less but more often willing to overlook the slight point to his ears and almond shaped eyes, for the prosperity their dealings with House Bourbon brought.
Idryl’s father allowed him to grow spoiled and entitled. His father’s time was spent building the family’s wealth and connections, and most of Idryl’s raising was handled by tutors, the family’s attendants, and those who typically make up a merchant train. What he did learn from his father was to be a shrewd judge of character and ability to make anyone, regardless of station, race, or belief, feel a friend.
Idryl was schooled royally but found enjoyment in more common circles and darker corners. He soon counted dicing among his favorite hobbies. Idryl grew well versed in the game, having near unlimited resources available to fund his education in counting pips, learning odds, ways of ‘influencing’ rolls (some above board, most underhanded), but that hobby soon became self-sustaining, if not profitable.
Dicing tends to attract certain crowds and occupy certain establishments. Idryl grew familiar with nearly every tavern activity. He added drinking, womanizing, and dueling to his repertoire over the years. Gleemen found themselves in competition whenever Idryl was in attendance. He learned all their stories and songs, but gave more exciting accounts and had a better voice. He learned to juggle, sleight of hand, acrobatic feats, performing them all with elvish grace and his own panache. People were less likely to notice or care about his eyes and ears when distracted by an enthralling tale or the half dozen knives he could keep spinning into the air.
Idryl's Fey ancestry also lent him a natural aptitude in the arcane. While Lord Bourbon frowned upon such "unnatural" practices, Idryl sought out those who would further his education. Idryl had an honest interest in magic, but his father’s denial led him to shadier corners. While Idryl picked up some minor illusions, his father’s zero tolerance policy kept him from learning anything dangerous.
Eventually, Idryl inherited his father’s ventures. He outlived his father and those who had built House Bourbon into what it had become. He watched the lords his father had dealt with grow old and die. He had watched their children and their children’s children grow up and rule in turn. Over time he also became wealthier and in some ways more influential than many of those royal families. His father had built a veritable empire and he had inherited it fully. Many lords saw him as a near equal, but not all.
During an evening of gambling, the great-grandson of a lesser lord the Bourbon family had made wealthy did not take well to losing money to a simple merchant. Hearing a half-blood merchant boast about it may have exacerbated the lordling’s anger. Insults flew, weapons were drawn, and the lordling went home with an empty purse and a scar to remember the night by.
When the lordling’s lord found out what a half-breed had done to his son, the response was swift and severe. Idryl’s goods and coin were confiscated to pay back the gold the lordling had lost, they did several times over. Idryl’s holdings, estates, and trade operation were given to the lordling to pay back the scar he had gained, all would last his lifetime. The move was supported by many other royal families who had grown tired of the entitlement and growing lack of deference from Idryl.
Idryl was ruined. He was allowed to leave with the clothes on his back, though they were very fine clothes, and what he could carry, which happened to be enough gold he could retire to a very fine estate with. Or enough gold to gamble and wallow away with for several decades not sure who he was now that House Bourbon was worthless. Older now, nearly into his 130s, Idryl has smoothed some of his rough edges, and found purpose in life. He has decided to restore his family’s name and prominence. The enterprise that led to his ruin may begin the path to redemption: adventuring as a bard, currying favor and building back those connections one common room, court, and throne room at a time.
Cason never looked for fame or renown, but took great pride in the work he did, and he enjoyed the respect received for it. If something was worth doing, then it was worth doing well. The eldest of the two Elder boys, Cason left big shoes for his younger brother, Roland, to fill; very big shoes.
Cason had always been a large boy. Growing up he was always told to be careful playing with other kids outside; to watch his step indoors; that to feed and clothe him would send his parents into poverty. In school he was unjustly labelled slow of wit. No one thought him soft in the head; just not too bright. Cason was just as smart as his peers, he just looked much older. It was unfair that he was expected to behave and know the things of a boy three or four years older. As it was he grew up increasingly gentle and quiet, but did he ever grow.
By the time Cason was eighteen you would not be faulted for thinking him a young Goliath come down from the nearby mountains. Only a few inches under seven feet tall, all slabbed muscle, Cason towered over everyone in the village. He wasn’t only known for his size. Anything that needed help doing Cason was there. He enjoyed the work. No one ever quipped about his size when it came to labor, except to admire how useful it was. It was the same way when the royal guard came to town to enlist the men of the village.
The royal guard had been hearing of Cason from the last four or five villages they had stopped at. They began asking for him as soon as they rode into town. Cason, his father and his brother were all enlisted, and while it broke Cason’s heart to watch his mother cry as they left, he had a job to do, a duty. It nearly broke Cason’s heart as much to see the look in his father’s eye a few days later when news had spread that his brother deserted.
Cason returned several years later on a mule cart; he, the driver, his weapons, armor, and his father’s shield were the only passengers. The village Cason returned to was as much changed as he was; harder, sadder, with many more scars than before. With most of the men gone, nature had begun reclaiming much of the farmland surrounding the village. Most farms barely had gardens growing.
Once again Cason had to watch his mother cry as he dug a six foot hole on the family farm to bury the shield and lay his father to rest. Roland who had returned home after deserting had done little to help his mother over the years, and the farm was in disrepair. Roland didn’t bother to move a handful of dirt to bury his father. He had taken to drinking in those years since Cason had been away, and Cason suspected a few worse habits. Why else would he need to steal from their neighbors, to cheat visitors to the local inns and taverns.
Cason began doing what he could to bring prosperity back to the family and community. Once again Cason was adored for the help he provided, and once again his little brother found himself in a shadow larger than he ever thought his older sibling could cast. Cason went to work helping those families who had lost husbands, sons, and brothers in the war get back on their feet. He was able to do the work of several men, and did everything short of lashing himself to the plow, though many thought he could pull a plow better than most oxen.
A few weeks back, Roland excitedly approached Cason with a proposition. With Cason size, strength, and military training they could become rich. Out on the ocean was an island of riches for any who could brave its dangers. Stories had begun to reach their small village about Cason’s exploits in the war, and while his little brother knew they were sure to be exaggerations, Cason had to have toughened up and learned something of fighting during his years away.
Cason wanted nothing of it. He saw glory in building their village back. The only renown he cared for was that of a hard day's work. His little brother wanted none of that. He tried to sell anyone who would listen on the idea of Ezo Island; a place where, “You could pick gold from the ground like weeds,” he would tell them. But no one in their sleepy village wanted any more adventure. Most had just returned from the war.
Late one night, only days ago, Roland burst into the house, bloody, holding a knife and out of his wits. It had begun like every other night, the townsfolk at the tavern ignored Roland and his call for adventure. Only this night Roland was in more than his cups. He began throwing insults around; questioning the bravery and manhood of the men around him. Several refused to be addressed in such a way by a deserter. They came to blows, a knife was pulled, one man laid dead in the tavern, another was being taken to the town healer, but no one expected him to make it.
Again Cason watched his mother cry as she screamed at Roland, about what he had done, about what he hadn’t done, would never do, about who he would never be. And that was it. Something in Roland snapped. The knife he was holding buried itself in his mother’s chest and the screaming stopped. As Roland left he told his mother that he would become more than anyone in that town was, and that she would never see it. Cason felt ripped in two. He wanted to run his brother down and smite him where he stood, but he could not leave his mother’s side. He laid his hands on the wound and prayed feverishly, but knew nothing could be done. Cason continued praying even as he saw the light dim in his mother’s eyes not stopping until the morning sun began to show through the windows.
Cason dug another hole next to his father’s grave and buried his mother alone. Cason drug out his armor, shield, and weapon from under his bed. They shone brightly, well oiled, polished, sharpened. Cason never planned to ever use them again, but they were good tools; they needed to be maintained, and anything worth doing was worth doing well. Cason sold the family farm, most of his possessions and set off for Ezo Island; he had no plans to return. The villagers were sad to see him leave, but no one cried. They all knew he had a job to do, a duty.
Jack grew up listening to the tales of adventure his grandfather would tell. How one of his d'Burroughs ancestors had explored the world, led revolutions, fought monsters, shook nations, made kings.Young Jack would sit rocking at his grandfather's feet absorbing it all, seeing himself in those stories--once he was older, of course.
That was always the problem. Any time Jack would ask his parents anything, permission was always contingent on his being older. Explore the fields near their village? When you're older. Climb the big tree at the end of Old Man Isaac's garden? When you're older. Go Haggle with Father at auction? Have a taste of wine at Harvest Feast? Answer was always the same. He grew to resent it. Older began to feel too far away, too long to wait. So by the time he was sixteen, Jack felt it was now or never.
He had filled a sack with all he thought he might need, snuck onto a traveling merchants wagon, and never looked back. He had to start his own journey if he were to ever fit in all the adventures his grandfather had told him a d'Burroughs could have.
The first few years on his own were a crash course in survival. He bounced from village to village begging, scrounging, and stealing to feed himself, but he was often mistaken for a child and fared better than most panhandling. Eventually Jack made his way to a bustling port city.
Jack quickly found himself involved with the local thief's guild. His diminutive size, disarming appearance, and preternatural nimbleness made him a valuable asset. Best of all, it was exciting, dangerous, and his parents would never have approved. Jack lived comfortably for a year or two in service of the guild, but never found himself complacent.
Stories would roll in from the docks: strange people, unexplored lands, uncharted waters, mysterious beasts--adventure at its purest. Jack knew he had to get on a boat.
It took months before he was able to find a crew who would have him. Most captains saw a halfling as little more than a liability. Finally Jack got on with a merchant vessel captained and crewed by half-orcs who thought he might be able to help deal with rats.
It was his time spent below-decks that honed his skill with a blade. Rats are quick and when operating in total darkness, relying on sound and reflexes Jack became like a viper.
He began dueling above decks when not skewering rodents below. Even with the heavier, blunted practice blades there were few who could stand up to the constant flurry of pokes Jack would deliver with surgical precision. Even those who could weather the admittedly lighter but constant blows were rarely able to land a strike in retaliation against the dipping and darting halfling. Soon the captain and crew were earning just as much betting on Jack in duels as they were trading goods in port.
Over several years Jack collected stories, scars, and not a small amount of coin with his half-orc companions, but the ports started to become familiar. There were fewer and fewer opponents who had not heard of Jack's skill with a rapier--usually because of Jack's constant boasting of his skill with the rapier. The little halfling Jack Tance d'Burroughs had outgrown his circumstance. It was time to move on. If Jack were to raise a rebellion, reshape a nation, or rub shoulders with royalty he had to set his sights higher--or at least further north.
Anyone who had spent anytime near a port knew of Ezo Island. Jack had long thought of travelling there himself. Where better to make a fortune and a name. Certainly there would be a monster or two to slay if the stories were even half true. So Jack set off to become as famous as he had been claiming he was: 'So famous' that 100 years on, just as Jack would be getting fat in retirement, grandfathers would boast to their grandkids of simply having seen Jack Tance d'Burroughs, and would regale them with his adventures.
Education of a Karen
submitted by hamsterwheelers to nosleep [link] [comments]
My name is not Karen. But frankly, I don't want any of you Reddit degenerates having my real name, and that's what you'd call a woman like me around here anyways. Thirties, assertive, willing to seek management if I'm unsatisfied with my service.
I wasn't always this way. In fact, I was raised quite the opposite: to be quiet and take up as little space as possible. I was raised bringing my dad his beer at 4 years old. I was told to be accommodating. To make the people around me comfortable, at the expense of my own comfort.
It took something big to change me.
My first job out of college was in the downtown of a forgotten New England city. Let's say Springfield. Overall a dump. But the downtown was nice. A little bit of window shopping at places I couldn't afford. And a cute cafe just around the corner from my office. I was really excited to start my new life there.
My boss, Sarah, was a really refreshing presence. She was confident but friendly, accessible but knew what she wanted. I wanted to be like her. I was thrilled when she took me for coffee that first morning. It didn't even matter that I kind of hated coffee, and really preferred tea. I was just thrilled to be in her orbit.
So we walked over to Stony Gates Cafe.
"Don't worry about punching out," she said with a grin. "This is just an off-site meeting."
We stood in line as Sarah gave me the rundown on the office.
"Hilaria is amazing, but don't piss her off. She keeps the place running. It'd be hard to get by without her support. I call Frank Sharp Sharpie, but don't call him that yourself unless he invites you to. We observe casual Fridays, but I'd forgo sandals."
When we approached the register, I got a glimpse of the cashier (barista?). Ladies, let me tell you- yikes
. He was a real killer. Handsome, charming, lean yet muscular forearms sticking out of his rolled-up sleeves. You know what I mean.
"Hey Sarah, the usual?" he asked.
"You know me too well," she said, but almost dismissively. "This is Karen-"
"New girl?" His mouth twisted up into a little half-smirk. But in a hot way. "Hey new girl. I'm Kyle."
"Hey," I said, managing not to stammer. I don't think I was too red, either.
"Same for you?" he asked.
Sarah rolled her eyes at him. "Ugh, Kyle. She doesn't even know what it is-"
"She'll love it. It's one of our most popular drinks." Kyle's smirk spread across his whole face.
"Only because I get it twice a day," said Sarah. "And I'm pretty sure I'm the only one."
"I'm the one that takes the orders here, Sarah. I should know." Coming from a less charismatic person, this all would've been extremely dickish. But it made for movie-couple banter between Sarah and Kyle.
"Let her order her own-"
"No, it's fine," I said. "I'm sure whatever you're drinking has gotta be good."
"Two doppio lungos it is."
"You're good with that?" Sarah asked me.
"Of course." I had no idea what he was saying (again, not a coffee chick), but I'd fueled many an exam with 7-Eleven coffee. This couldn't be any worse.
We took our seats and Sarah's face turned serious for a moment. "Karen, don't be afraid to stand up for yourself."
"Right, of course."
"I mean it. You're new and young and it'd be really easy for you to get pushed around by some of the guys in the office. So just know that I've got your back. Got it?"
"Oh yeah. Absolutely," I nodded with a grin.
Kyle came and dropped off the drinks. "Two doppio lungos for the ladies."
On his way off, he nudged up against me—crotch-first. But Sarah didn't notice. She was already nose-deep in her coffee.
I took mine. It was creamy, frothy, and caramel-colored on the top. It couldn't be that bad, I thought. But then I took a sip.
"Wow," I almost spluttered. "Refreshing."
Sarah snorted a laugh. "Your face tells a different story, my friend."
"No, I'm just not used to-" I took another sip. "Real coffee. I got by on a lot of 7-Eleven."
Sarah laughed again. "Lady, a doppio is two espresso shots. A lungo is an espresso with a long pull. Meaning, it's had more time to dissolve all the bitter stuff. Meaning it's bitter as shit. Just the way I
like it. Hell, I eat my chocolate 80% dark. But you?" She had to put her drink down, she was laughing so hard.
"I guess I'm more of a tea person, to be honest," I said, sheepishly.
"Then tea it is," she declared. "Kyle, get this shit out of Karen's face and get her a tea please."
"Oh, no-" I started. "I ordered it. I should finish it-"
"Nonsense, Karen. Have the drink that you like."
Kyle came by again, the smirk still on his face. "Here," he said, handing me a cup with a tea bag hanging out of it. "On the house."
"Oh no, I-"
He set the cup down and took away my first drink.
Honestly, I was relieved I wouldn't have to drink that whole cup. And then I tasted the tea. But I held my face a bit better this time.
"Better?" asked Sarah.
"Absolutely," I smiled.
But the tea was disgusting. Over-brewed and tepid and—a musty taste? As though he made it with runoff from a coffee pot, at the same time as my first order was made, and then just left it sitting there. But I drank it anyways.
I tried going back to Stony Gates a week later. The way everyone gushed about it, I figured that it was my fault for not putting in my own order. But it was just as awful, maybe even more. It was like Kyle was trying his best to make it unpleasant for me. I was starting to hate that handsome face of his.
That time, it went beyond the poor service. But yeah, he got my order wrong then, too. I'd ordered a chai latte, which everyone swore was amazing and was the only reason I was trying it again, and what I got was—well, I wasn't quite sure. Bitter, cold, burnt. I took a sip and thought I saw him watch me with a smirk.
But then he came to my table and left a biscotto. Wow, maybe he's making it up to me,
I thought, stupidly.
"How's the drink?" he asked.
"Well, to be honest-"
"Ah, good. You love it. Just as I thought." He set the biscotto down and then passed by me again on his way off. Rubbing his crotch all over my shoulder. Again.
But it couldn't be intentional. Who does that? Right?
Then I tried the biscotto. Something just tasted wrong with it. I spat out what I could as discreetly as I could. But even then, I had an upset stomach the rest of the day and most of the next.
I swore that I'd never go back.
I loved my job, Sarah loved my work, and the guys, even though they could be tough on me, never messed with me too much. And I all but forgot about Kyle and his horrible service.
Until a few weeks later, when I saw a familiar face at the gym. My gym. The gym where I'd been a member for two years and where I've been coming on Wednesday nights weekly and where I'd never, ever seen him before.
"New girl!" Kyle shouted. "Carol!"
"Oh, hey- Stony Gates," I said. I knew his name, but didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
"Kyle, but you knew that," he said, looking me dead in the eyes. "I'm pretty hard to forget." Your service is, at least.
But I didn't say that. I just chuckled politely because I was an idiot.
Then he stood there, just talking. By the time I was able to check the clock, I'd been at the gym nearly twenty minutes and hadn't even warmed up.
"Like 70% of your workout is in your diet," he said. And, "Weight training actually won't make you bulk up, but will help you burn fat." Or, "I bet you like to work those thighs-"
"Ok, well. It was a good catch up," I said. "I'm just going to-"
I tried to walk around him but he stepped into my path. "No, don't head for the treadmill. You want the elliptical."
"Oh, sure. Ok, I'll give that a try."
I thought that if I started to work out, he'd just leave me alone. So treadmill, elliptical—it didn't matter to me. I just wanted to get started.
"You're not going to stretch first?" he said, when I got on the elliptical.
"I stretched at home," I lied.
"Well, Carol, you've been standing around for twenty minutes. Your muscles are cold now. Do yourself a favor and get in a warm-up."
"I-" I would've done anything to just get away from him.
"Come on," he squatted on the floor, and patted an open spot.
"Karen?" I heard a familiar voice break through. "Oh my god, girl. I haven't seen you in spin!"
"Jenna!" I stepped off the elliptical and gave her a hug. To be honest, we weren't really hug close. But I could've kissed her just then.
"Karen, are we going to stretch?" said Kyle.
"Oh, hun," Jenna said to him in a no-nonsense tone. "We've got it from here."
Kyle stood up and smirked. "Ok, Karen. You've got your friend here. But I'll see you again."
Jenna ignored him as he walked away and started chattering about my new job. But when he was gone she turned to me in a somber tone. "Who was that creep?"
My face flushed. "Just some guy I know. Works a cafe near my job."
"Are you friends?" she asked.
"Oh god no. This was, like, my third time even meeting him. He called me Carol."
"Ew. At first- well, I mean, he's hot, so I was like get him, gurl!
But then I saw your face and you just looked so upset. I finally figured that he wasn't, like, with you."
I hugged Jenna again. I was so overwhelmed. Knowing that someone was looking out for me, even when I didn't know it, really made me feel like the world would be ok. Because Kyle was really starting to creep me out.
And then Jenna said something that I'll never forget: "Karen, you have to be assertive with these guys, or they'll just suck your soul out. Literally, they will suck you dry."
I thought, at the time, that she was just misusing the word "literally." I thought wrong.
After that, I started going to the gym in the neighboring town. Yes, it was an extra ten minutes away. But my membership wouldn't be up for six months, and Kyle wouldn't follow me there, would he?
Except that then he showed up in the lobby of my apartment building.
I thought I saw him standing by the stairs before he saw me, so I sped away into the elevator. But as the doors were closing, his eyes caught mine.
"Crystal!" he yelled.
I pressed the door-close button, futilely. He caught the door and made his way in.
"Crystal, I didn't know you lived here. I'm looking for an apartment myself and wanted to check it out."
"Oh, I don't," I said. "I'm just visiting a friend."
"Oh? Having a party? Think your friend would mind letting me see what her apartment looks like? Seventh floor, it looks like?"
"His, and it's not really an open event."
"His?" Kyle eyed me, his head still up straight. For the first time, I realized how much bigger he was than me. He'd had nearly half a foot in height over me, and he looked strong. Broad. Muscular.
"Yeah," I said, though it was a total lie.
"You don't have a boyfriend," he said. "I've been looking into you."
A chill ran up my spine. "No, not a boyfriend. Just a friend. And a few others."
"You're not lying to me, are you?" he leaned down to eye level.
"Nope," I said, taking out my phone. I started punching in texts, asking whoever could to come to my apartment.
But then he grabbed my phone and flung it aside.
"Go ahead," he said. "Pick it up."
The elevator doors opened, and my phone was still on the ground. I eyed it. Then the hallway.
I kicked the phone out of the door and made like I was going to step out myself.
He lurched out into the hall to grab my phone first. But I jolted backward and crammed my finger on the close-door button. He didn't even realize what had happened until the door was already sealed shut.
I was headed back down to the lobby, but I had to assume that he was running there as well. So I crammed on the buttons again, getting off on the third floor.
I peeked out into the hall and saw no one. I pressed another few buttons on the elevator, and let it go. I knew I had to avoid the stairs and the lobby, but I hardly knew anyone on this floor. And I was afraid of banging on random doors, in case he heard me.
Thankfully, the floors were all identical.
My building used to be an old hotel. But when it shuttered, they remodeled it and broke it into apartments. What that meant was, the floors all had little nooks for things like vending machines and supplies closets. Maybe if I could just hide out in one until he gave up, or someone came by to help me, I'd make it through this.
So I wound my way through the halls to one of the furthest nooks I could find. An old, out of order vending machine still sat there. I squeezed myself between it and the wall, where I waited.
I tried to get my breathing under control. I would be ok. Lots of people lived here. I managed to fire off a few texts before he grabbed my phone. To my brother. To my friend, Sam. Even to Jenna. Someone would come. Jenna might even call the police.
A twist in my heart worried me for a second. What if he used my phone to tell my friends that it was a false alarm? But I'd seen the screen. It was black. That meant it'd gotten locked, right?
Then I heard a woman chattering in the hallway. I pulled myself out of my nook and ran out to her without even thinking.
When I made it to the hallway, I saw them. I saw him.
Kyle was walking with a woman over to her apartment, putting on his best, most charming face. "So if you see her, I'd appreciate-"
I tried to duck back, but then he saw me.
"Oh," he said to my neighbor, "here she is. I'm so sorry to have bothered you." He turned back to me, holding out my phone. "Silly billy, you left your phone. Let's go back home, babe."
I shook my head, looking at the woman. "Please, please you have to help me-"
The woman looked from me to Kyle, her brows tensed. "What's going on here?"
"Just a lover's quarrel," he said. "I'll take it from here."
"No, we're not-"
"I'll take it from here, you go on inside," he said to the woman. "I've taken up enough of your time."
"Listen," she said, opening her door, "I don't want to be dragged into your drama. Your boyfriend wants to make peace. And if you don't, then at least be adult enough to talk with him about it."
Then she slipped inside and locked the door.
"You'll come with me," he said, grabbing my arm.
I should've kicked. I should've screamed. But I froze. When the woman closed her door, she'd closed the door on me. On helping me. And, as stupid as it sounds now, I didn't want to bother her. Nor did I want to endanger her. So I went along.
"Why me?" I whispered.
"Why you?" His stupid smirk was back. "Why you? Chrissie, you're perfect. I've been needing a meal for a long time. Nothing goes down easier than a weak-willed woman."
Cold terror overtook me. A meal?
"And your fear is just so delicious," he said, practically salivating. "Your discomfort, your annoyance, those were good, too. But your fear is quite the delicacy."
It finally occurred to me that I was dealing with not just any asshole, but a supernatural one.
"I had my mark on you the minute you declined to make your own order. You even drank that dishwater tea."
He pulled me into the elevator and waited for the doors to close, then pinned me against the wall.
"And now I feel that fear radiating off of you, and it's just so, so sweet."
He sniffed at my neck, and I thought I saw something—like a vapor, an aura—radiate off me and into him. His eyes seemed to glow with a hint of red. Karen, you have to be assertive with these guys or they'll suck your soul out.
I realized: he'd known Sarah long enough to know her order, but never tried anything with her. And when Jenna helped me at the gym, he'd given up immediately. I steeled myself. I forced a calm into my chest. Then declared my firmest "No."
"What?" His face fell, the glow in his eyes dampened.
"No, get the fuck off of me," I said again, more confidently than before.
He leaned back in to take another whiff, but the aura was noticeably weaker than before. "You think your tough girl act will save you, but I know you. I've known countless like you. Desperate for approval, lonely, and terrified of the world."
"You don't know jack shit about me," I said. The door opened, startling him. So I jammed my knee up to his crotch and ran.
He groaned in pain, but followed me off the elevator. "You little bitch. I'll show you true fear."
Before my eyes, he seemed to grow—stretching like a shadow across the lobby. Fangs pointed down from behind his lips. His skin reddened, and seemed scaly in the light.
But I held firm. If I could trick myself into being fearless, maybe I could trick him, too. I backed away, never keeping my eyes off of him. All the while, I told myself that I was fearless. That I gave no shits no matter what happened. No matter who- what he was, or how he looked.
No one could take my dignity but me, I told myself, because I decided what dignity was. I filled my heart with resolve. No matter what would happen to me, whether I died or worse, I lived.
When I backed away far enough, I saw the fire extinguisher and the alarm right next to it. I sprung to the wall, pulled on the handle, and set sprinklers off. Then I broke the glass and grabbed the extinguisher. But I'd never used one before. I hoped the bluff would be enough. I held the nozzle out in front of me.
Kyle smirked. "You forgot to pull the pin."
He lunged forward and grabbed the canister from my hands. We fought for it, slipping on the wet floor. Other residents finally started to make their way down, startled by the alarm. Then saw us wrestling.
Two of my neighbors came and yanked Kyle off of me. His face had returned to normal in the blink of an eye.
"What are you doing to this little miss?" said the larger of the two—a big guy with a beer gut.
Kyle smiled sheepishly, and I understood that he was going to try and charm his way out of this, too. "You know how it is. We had a fight, she pulled-"
"He's a stalker! He was trying to kill me!" I wailed. I was finally going to play it Kyle's way. "I turned him down two months ago, and ever since then, he keeps turning up. I never even told him where I lived."
I started to sob. I pulled aside the collar of my shirt to show the red, swollen spot, where he'd pinned me in the elevator. "I thought I was going to die."
The large guy forced Kyle up against the lobby wall, muttering about how Kyle should be glad the police are coming, while his wife made the call.
Jenna and my brother each arrived shortly after, and sat with me until all of our statements were made. Then they walked me back to my apartment to gather my things. Jenna offered her pullout couch, and I was happy to accept.
Now, as far as Kyle goes. He was arrested, but that didn't stick for long. But lucky for me- well, let's just say that Jenna was more than she appeared.
Anyways, since then, I've had a difficult time being the trusting, accommodating person that I once was. Sometimes I miss her. Mostly, though, with a lot of therapy, I've grown into my new, assertive self.
So yes, maybe now I am a bit of a Karen. I'll send back wrong orders. I'll speak to the manager if things are really bad. I'll tell the person at the theater or airplane that my assigned seat is mine, and no, it's not just easier for me to move. I don't take that crap anymore.
And I like myself for it. I take care of myself now, because I finally value myself enough to do it. And yes, it only took a literal soul-sucking demon for me to do it.
Edit: Alright, guys. You've been asking. Jenna might get pissed, but I'll deliver. I'll get it done tonight, post it once I'm able.
Edit 2: Here it is
, guys. The story of how Jenna took care of Kyle. Just remember, I'm not supposed to be telling that story, so if Jenna sounds at all familiar to you, please for the love of god, don't tell her about that post.
Edit 3: Hey everyone. As I've grown more confident in my skills, my adventures get less horrific, so I'm going to start updating elsewhere
. If you've enjoyed reading up on me, Jenna, and the growing crew, feel free to sub, and I'll keep you all posted on our latest adventures.
All ultimate custom night voice lines
Foxy: Never underestimate the cunning of a pirate or a fox for that matter. Arrgh, ya never stood a chance! Yarrg, I came for ye booty, that be treasure ya' know... I can't run like I used to, but I can pull myself apart just fine. Arr, so much more spacious in here, I may just stay a while. submitted by Zorubark to copypasta [link] [comments]
Toy Freddy: It's not my fault, I have these fat plastic fingers and can't push the buttons. If I get jumpscared, you get jumpscared. Mr Hugs got me again. That game was totally rigged. That's what you get for leaving me hanging.
Toy Chica: You won't get tired of dying... will you? You won't get tired of my voice... will you? Let's go somewhere more private... so I can eat you. Where's my beak? Lodged in your forehead, of course.
Withered Chica: I never thought I'd make it through that vent but now we are together. Let me show you how to break your face just like me. I was the first, I have seen everything. Come closer, let's smile together. I have seen him, the one you shouldn't have killed.
Withered Bonnie: You Blinked. What is this new prison? Is it me trapped? Or is it you? Perhaps it's us both. I may be missing my face but even I could see this coming. Time to face the consequences of your failure. Might as well face the facts, you were always destined to fail.
Puppet/Marionette: Seeing you powerless if like music to me. I don't hate you, but you need to stay out of my way. I recognise you, but I am not afraid of you, not anymore. The others are like animals, but I can very aware. The others are under my protection.
Nightmare Fredbear: Let me put you back together and then take you apart all over again. We know who our friends are and you are not one of them. Let's see how many times you can be pulled apart. I assure you, I am very real. This time, there is more than an illusion to fear.
Nightmare: You will not be spared, you will not be saved. The shadow fears me. I am your wickedness made of flesh. I am here to claim what is left of you. I will put you back to relive your horror.
Jack-O-Chica: Come and burn with me. Greetings from the fire and from the one you should not have killed. The fire within me burns eternal, and now you shall as well! I am a burning reminder of your misdeeds. Did things get really hot in here? Or is it just me?
Circus Baby: Looks like something bad happened. Wanna see the scooping room? I guess you forgot about me. I guess YOU forgot about me.
Ballora: I could hear you.. breathing. Admit it, you wanted to let me in. Why do you hide inside these walls? Don't be shy. These are strange circumstances that have brought us together.
Funtime Foxy: IT SEEMS YOU COULDN'T MAKE IT TO MY SHOW, SO I BROUGHT THE SHOW TO YOU! A PERFORMANCE WAS DEMANDED OF ME, AND NOW I HAVE DELIVERED, ENCORE! SHOWS ARE ON THE HOUR, NOT A MOMENT BEFORE, NOT A MINUTE LATER! IT IS TIME TO TAKE YOUR FINAL BOW! IM SORRY, BUT THERE WAS NEVER ENOUGH ROOM ON THIS STAGE FOR BOTH OF US!
Happy Frog: I bet you weren't expecting me, were ya? Turn your back for one second and I'm like "Wazoo"! Ninja skills. Move over Freddy Fazbear, Happy Frog is the new star of the show. You and I don't get to talk as often as I'd like. Everyone underestimates me, but they turn their back and I'm like "Boo!" and then they're like "Wlaaagh." We've only just begun,(Only just begun) I will never let you leave,(Never let you leave) I will never let you rest(Never let you rest).
Mr. Hippo won't be making it on here, as i'm too lazy to do his monologues... Sorry.
Pigpatch: The talented hawk hides his claws. I consider it a dignified death... not really, it was actually quite pathetic. If you sit by the river long enough, you will the body of your enemy float by. Even monkeys fall from trees. The nail that sticks out gets hammered down.
Nedd Bear: Stranger Danger! Don't you hate getting killed by obscure secondary characters? AHUE-HUE-HUE-HUE-HUE I was just waiting for you to drop your guard. Whoops, that's gonna leave a mark. This is how it feels(How it feels)and you get to experience it over, and over, and over again, forever(And you get to experience it over, and over, and over again forever)I will never let you leave(I will never let you leave).
Orville Elephant: What did you think of my act? I don't get out much anymore, so you'll have to excuse my enthusiasm. I hope you enjoyed the grand finale. Now is my time to shine! He tried to release you, he tried to release us, but I won't let that happen, I will keep you here, I will hold you here, no matter how many times they burn us.(He tried to release you, he tried to release us, but I won't let that happen, I will keep you here, I will hold you here, no matter how many times they burn us)
Rockstar Freddy: Please deposit five coins. Please deposit five coins. Please deposit fiVE COINS! Thank you for depositing five coins. You are attempting to trick Freddy. You are attempting to trick fffrrr... Freddy doesn't like this.
Rockstar Bonnie: What a treat, to come here and meet your face as it hits concrete. I found my guitar, now reach for the stars, as I plunge it through your heart. Why so blue? You'll know I'll be true, and now I'll make slivers out of you. So good to see you again, my truest friend, but now your life must end. What a fine day, to come here and say that your face and flesh i must pray.
Rockstar Chica: That's right! And don't you come back now ya' hear! That's what you get for try'na trick this ol' bird. I may not like wet floors but the smell of fresh meat is just too enticing. Thought you could fool me with that sign but I was too smart for ya. Whoops, looks like your the one who slipped up this time.
Rockstar Foxy: How may I be of service to ya? Ya har, who touch me bird? Yar, me bird likes ya, so I'll do ye a favour. Ya har, what can I do for ya? Yar, ya win some, ya lose some. Yar, ya play with fire and sometimes ya get burned.
Music Man: You hear that? It's the sweet sweet sound of your eternal silence. Hey, keep it down would'ja. When i'm here, you play by my rules. A song was requested of me and now I sing it. You and I will be making music together for a long, long time.
Funtime Chica: I'm ready for my close-up! Smile! Say cheese! Today is all about me, me, me!
Scrap Baby: Time for your controlled shock. Let's see how many pieces I can cut you into. You won't die, but you'll wish you could. Time for your controlled shock. (Yes it repeats but it says it differently each time :/)
Scraptrap: I always come back!
Lefty: Shhh, there is room for one more. Shhh, come spend eternity inside with me. Shhh, I've been looking for you. Shhh, I'm so glad that I found you, let me make room for you. Shhh, It will all be over soon.
DeeDee: Uh oh, how unfortunate Uh oh, how unfortunate I know how much you like to fight So i'll add a new problem to your night.
Uh oh, how unfortunate Uh oh, how unfortunate I'm gonna do a sneaky thing And throw a new contender in the ring.
[OC] Chronicles of the Siren War [Chapter 31]
Previous submitted by SabatonBabylon to AzureLane [link] [comments]
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Thorson stood quickly as his intuition proved correct, stabilizing Yamashiro as the busty shrine maiden stumbled a bit when she stepped into the room, laden with a large tray of tea and cups. A small amount of amber liquid escaped the spout of the teapot, but the floor remained spotless.
"Thank you tono-sama!" Yamashiro exclaimed, her ears wiggling happily as she indulged in the Commander's strong arm around her waist. "I'm very sorry, but I wanted to ensure there was enough for everyone. It would be rude to serve some and not others."
Thorson gave her a warm smile and a nod of appreciation. "I see you found some black tea as well? Much appreciated, Yamashiro. Warspite, can I offer you and your compatriots a beverage?"
"We would happily accept, Commander," the slim battleship agreed, running a comb through the long bundles of silky blonde hair that hung from each side of her head. They almost looked like a second scarf. Thorson placed his hand on the small of Yamashiro's back.
"Do you need help?"
"No, tono-sama. Allow me, please!" Yamashiro insisted, carefully pouring six cups and setting one before Warspite before moving on to the other royals and finally Thorson. "I'm sorry, tono-sama, but you said-"
"Ladies first, yes. Thank you, Yamashiro. Would you please go to the labs with Fusou after this? Speak with Arizona and Pennsylvania. The two of you should…"
"Yes, tono-sama?" Yamashiro asked as Thorson looked to the ceiling in consideration. The neko battleship tilted her head in question as her short hair bobbed around.
"Didn't you say you were going to be retrofitted for scout aircraft? Or that was the cover story, at least?" He recalled, upset at bringing up her time in the Sanctuary.
"Yes, tono-sama. We were given blueprints and the necessary cubes but…"
"Let's leave the alien mind control out of it this time. Probably for the best, I'd say. Do you think you could rebuild the Yamashiro in that form?" Thorson requested. Yamashiro's tail and ears perked up as her change in posture lightly jingled the bells that hung from the sash of her kimono.
"Yes, yes tono-sama! But...uh…" Yamashiro suddenly looked very worried, swaying back and forth on her stockinged feet. "We are very unlucky ships, tono-sama. Accidents and explosions, mutinies and executions, our flight from the sanctuary...surely you don't want such ill omens in your fleet? See?" She asked sadly, pointing to her tail. "We are even black cats."
Thorson took a sip of tea before placing his cup on the kotatsu and standing. He extended a hand and softly ran a finger along the shell of Yamashiro's ear before giving into temptation and touching the downy fur of her inner ear. The half of his thumb in contact with that fluff had transcended the mortal plane to something approximating heaven, or wherever the gods of the Sakura resided. She cooed shyly at him.
"Those unlucky hulls are at the bottom of the ocean. Time to start over, Yamashiro. You and your sister placed your trust in me. I will trust you in turn." The shrine maiden beamed at him as she tilted her head into his palm, seeking further stimulation.
"Hmm hmmm! Tono-sama is so kind! I will tell Fusou nee-san! Thank you, tono-sama!" Her spirits brightened, Yamashiro practically skipped out of the room, leaving Warspite to question Thorson.
"I hope you don't expect us to be your servants, Commander." He threw a playful smirk her way.
"No, none of you seem to be wearing maid outfits. Is that real, by the way? Belfast and her retinue?" He asked.
"It's every bit as real as you are," Ark confirmed. "Hmm, that's not bad. Guess tea is easier to get out here. Don't be mistaken though, Commander. Belfast is a warrior of the utmost caliber. You ever seen an entire convoy set ablaze by a single light cruiser? I have." Ark’s account had the human raising his brows toward his cap.
"Duly noted. For the record, Warspite, Yamashiro...serves me," Thorson began, feeling a tad dirty describing Yamashiro in those terms. "On her sister's insistence, might I add. The two of them arrived here in dire circumstances. I believe this is their way of integrating into life on the base. The sisters, to my understanding, are servants of the Sakura gods. So their ultimate master is technically a higher authority than the Empire itself or the first carrier group, Akagi and Kaga. Those two now worship something they call the Creator."
"So you're saying there is a rift within the Sakura? How interesting," Warspite mused.
"Within the Sakura Navy," Thorson clarified. "I don't know what the relationship is between the Empire proper and its shipgirls, but I do know that not all of them are happy about the alliance with the sirens."
A tense silence seemed to fall over the shipgirls in the room as Thorson returned to his seat. "Uh...did I say something amiss?"
"That's not good, Lady Warspite," Javelin started. "But we should have suspected as much. The Sakura attacking the Union out of nowhere like that?"
"Do you have any hard evidence to back up this assertion?" Warspite asked diplomatically. Thorson nodded.
"It's anecdotal, but I survived Pearl Harbor and can confirm that siren attack craft targeted our shipgirl research facilities and killed Arizona. Hours before you arrived here we were attacked by a large detachment of siren aircraft. They began using standard Sakura tactics, but once we took out enough of them they began moving...well, I guess the best way to describe it is like aliens. Aircraft that can move in three dimensions and change direction and elevation at will."
"That doesn't fit the profile of our engagements to date," Leander commented. "But I don't think the Commander is lying."
"No, nor do I. I just had to be sure," Warspite agreed, taking a sip of tea with closed eyes. Thorson found himself feeling as though he were in the presence of royalty, given her dignified air. Perhaps he was. The battleship spoke in a prim and proper voice. "Commander, the greatest fear of our Queen is that the sirens are active in more than one theater of war. Europe is crowded, many eyes watching the Channel and the Baltic and the Mediterranean. But the Pacific is large and open. There are many islands, many places to hide. To hear of such brazen attacks…"
"If I may?" Thorson interrupted her. "How is what I described different from the European theater?" Leander and Javelin shuddered.
"Death in the night," the cruiser recalled. "Submarines that can spoof our sonar, cruiser packs and solitary ships raiding shipping lanes without mercy. And then of course there are Bismarck and Tirpitz. You tell him, Ark. You were there."
"Not sure what there is to tell," Ark said dismissively. "That ship wasn't made by humans. The amount of punishment she took, piercing Hood's shields in a single shot? Everywhere we fight the Kriegsmarine we feel the sirens, always lurking just out of sight. The will of the Royal Navy is strong, but when you need multiple shells for every one of theirs…" the carrier said bitterly, palming the grip of her pistol.
"So they're behaving differently depending on the theater of war," Thorson summarized. "This is going to be a stretch, but do you have any idea what they're after?"
"Ha! We were hoping you would have an answer for us," Warspite responded. "But that doesn't change the reality that we are here to assist you. So now is when, unlike that shrine cat, I intend to disappoint you, Commander Thorson."
"Alright? I'm listening," he replied with a furrowed brow as he sat back from the table. Warspite cleared her throat.
"We do not intend to serve under you as part of your fleet. We will fight alongside you but I will give the final orders to all Royal Navy ships," Warspite insisted. Thorson crossed his arms over his chest.
"Is your firepower alone meant to compensate for that suboptimal arrangement?" He asked neutrally.
"No, Commander. We have information for you. Given what you've said about the sirens and their seemingly overt alliance with the Sakura, we believe this will be of use to you."
"The command arrangement is non-negotiable?" Thorson asked.
"That is correct," Warspite said, meeting his gaze firmly.
"Well then I guess I'll hear what you have to tell me," he agreed, not sure what else he could do. Vampire seemed disgruntled about the situation, but he allowed events to play out over soothing cups of tea.
"Thank you, Commander. The first thing you should know is that we were approached by a siren envoy in 1939. She referred to herself only as 'the Princess', and she sought an audience with Elizabeth and me."
"And what did she wish to discuss?" Thorson demanded.
"She claimed to be in service to someone she referred to only as 'the Empress'."
"So they have a hierarchy," Thorson deduced.
"It would seem so," Warspite agreed. "This siren offered us shared dominion over the western hemisphere along with the Ironbloods."
"And in exchange?" Thorson pressed, leaning forward.
"Betray our country. Allow the Ironblood to blockade the United Kingdom and shell London."
"Which would then be followed by a tripartite offensive against the Eagle Union," Thorson concluded before throwing a grin at Warspite. "I guess you said no? Thanks by the way." Warspite’s return smile was ferocious.
"Her highness draped herself in the Union Jack before throwing her tea in that bitch's cloaked face. She said that every last one of us would die before allowing the island to fall. The Princess assured us that this future would indeed come to pass. Repulse, Hood, Wales...they're all dead already." A silence fell over the room as they remembered the dead for a long moment.
"I can understand your Queen's desire to forge alliances," Thorson eventually concluded. "If your enemy is the sirens then you will find friends here, from all of the major factions. Is there anything else?"
"Just this," Warspite said shortly, procuring a folded photograph from her uniform and passing it along the table. "What do you make of this?"
"Is that...the Tirpitz?" Thorson whispered in awe, seeing a massive battleship encased in ice that bore the shape of some sort of jagged crown, an unnatural spiral of thunderclouds circling overhead.
"Yes," Ark confirmed. "There's some sort of invisible field surrounding her. Any of my planes that got too close were destroyed instantly."
"I've never seen anything like this before, but this screams siren," Thorson concluded. "I will be frank with you, Warspite. I am firmly against a split command structure. But if I do not have a choice, then so be it. We have every reason to fight together."
"Just leave it," Ark insisted, resting a hand on Warspite's wrist as the young looking battleship looked ready to protest. "He agreed. He doesn't have to like it."
"Very well," Warspite nodded. "Thank you for the tea, and the alliance." She and Thorson stood and shook hands.
"Shall we find you a place to stay? If you're not partial to this architecture there's some old block style dorms but-"
"Here sounds good! Where does Laffey stay? Sleepovers!" Javelin declared. Thorson couldn't help but chuckle.
"I'm sure she'd like that too. Let's see if we can find a couple spare rooms for the rest of you, eh?"
"That would be appreciated, Commander. We thank you for your hospitality. Lead on," Warspite encouraged.
"So, you're really going to be joining us next time," Pennsylvania said hesitantly, walking aboard the new USS Arizona with her sister. She saw bulins scampering about a full complement of secondary and AA guns, checking for anything out of place.
"You always said there would be a time to show our strength, sister. If not now, then when?" Arizona asked, turning towards her new bridge, feeling the wonderful sensation of the deck beneath her feet after so long.
"Ari, that was then. This is now. I stood strong in Hawaii, survived it all along with Tennessee. But I lost you, and we lost so many others. Now you're back. Now I...we have Commander Thorson too. There's so much to lose," Penny lamented as the two of them found privacy on the bridge. Arizona activated her rigging and ship, startling some of the bulins as she vacated the dry dock. The feeling of water against her hull was heavenly.
"You really like him, don't you?" She asked kindly.
"I...respect him greatly as a Commander. He treated me and Tennessee fairly," Pennsylvania tried as Arizona giggled and drew closer.
"It's ok, you know. He's a fine man it seems!"
"How can...no. I can't compete with you, Ari. I saw how he looked at you when you came back to us. I should protect you," Pennsylvania insisted.
"And I will protect you!" The younger sister shot right back.
"I just want what's best for you, Arizona. I don't want you on the front lines taking torpedoes and bombs and shells. Is that so wrong?"
"Only if you refuse to acknowledge that I want the same," Arizona spoke caringly. "How do you think Commander Thorson and I would feel if you died and we hadn't done everything in our power to save you?"
"You would still have each other," Pennsylvania muttered.
"Penny, please! I may be younger but I'm not an idiot. Your feelings for him go far beyond respect. You love him, don't you? Maybe more than I do. December must have been trying for both of you. For me it’s like we just met."
Pennsylvania just stared at her sister as she tried to refuse the truth of her words. She shook her head, her long, black, hair flowing over her shoulders. "He doesn't know the real me. If he did he wouldn't-"
"He knows the real you and that's why he loves you too," Arizona insisted. "You shared the memory of that kiss with me, Penny. Even in that shattered state I thought my heart would explode. He was tender and caring to you. I think he knows who you really are."
"If the Commander shows me his affections I will be thrilled, Penny. But I will also be happy if he continues to show them to you. We all need something to fight for, right? If not the Union, then why not him and each other?"
"You big softy," Penny smiled ruefully, ruffling her hair. "That's not how it works with human women. They get jealous and spiteful. They compete and hunger. Who's to say we wouldn't do the same?"
"You would hate me for kissing him?" Arizona asked, feeling her cubes hum eagerly at the idea. "For rubbing my body against his? Here, Cleveland keeps talking about linking. Let's try it!" Arizona sent a deactivation pulse through her ship, took her sister's hand, and powered up again. The connection was instant and seamless. She showed Pennsylvania the memory of acquiring her rigging, how Thorson had held her like a lover in the midst of a dance.
"Ari! How did you...we can do that?" Penny hissed. Arizona tittered at her sister's flushed cheeks.
"I died once, Penny. I've been given another chance. I know what I...what you feel for him. I wouldn't dare keep secrets from you."
"Those little cats down on the docks probably feel the same," Pennsylvania said with steel in her voice. "Looks like they're waiting for us."
"Don't change the subject, sister. Ignore them. If there is space in Andrew's heart for them and for us then what is there to fight about?"
"How can you say that, Ari?" Pennsylvania grunted as her sister suddenly hugged her tightly. She returned it, allowing her affection for her sister to come to the surface. The war had suddenly become complicated.
"Because I'd rather you be happy than both of us be miserable," Arizona replied. "We will both fight in this war. It's what we were made for. Do you want Andrew Thorson, Penny?"
"Ari, don't force this-"
"Do you?!" She pouted, twisting her turrets around. "I can already feel the answer!"
Pennsylvania looked out the windows of the bridge to the sky above. She asked her cubes. They betrayed her. "Yeah, I think so."
"So do I, Penny. We will fight and kill and survive together. If it comes to it we will protect and love together too," Arizona insisted. "Our lives are probably not going to be very long. We might as well make the most of them."
"You always were a hopeless romantic," Penny conceded. "But I think the fates would look poorly on my arguing morality with someone who went to hell and came back. Ok, Ari. We'll talk again if this becomes...relevant. Let's go speak with the Sakura. The Commander may have requested this."
"Don't sound so grumpy, sis. They're part of this base too. And they're pretty cute don't you think?" Arizona asked, watching as Yamashiro hugged Fusou around the waist in a moment of sibling affection, their tails waving gently. Penny sighed, remembering that dark and stormy night where Fusou asked to be left to die if it meant saving Yamashiro.
"Yeah, I guess they are," she admitted.
"Hey there, big sister cat," Penny began conversation, addressing Fusou directly. The shrine maiden tweaked a small smile and nodded her head in a bow.
"Pennsylvania, let me formally introduce you to my younger sister, Yamashiro."
"Hello there! Thanks for helping to save my sister. And I'm sorry for not saying so before but congratulations on coming back to life! It's been so busy here lately!" Yamashiro smiled at Arizona. The Union ship returned it.
"I'm Arizona. And from the way Penny tells it we have you both to thank for the inspiration that led the Commander to attempt my resurrection. Thank you so much."
Pennsylvania hummed thoughtfully as Arizona and Yamashiro tentatively embraced one another before giggling and completing the hug. "Maybe this is what the Commander has been trying to achieve all along," she said quietly to Fusou, feeling comforted by the responsibility they both shared as elder sisters.
"Nee-san, the Union battleships are so firm and perky even though they have bigger hulls! It’s no fair!" Yamashiro suddenly exclaimed, causing Arizona to blush fiercely as Fusou rested her forehead on her palm.
"Maybe not that, though," Pennsylvania admitted.
"Yamashiro, apologize to Arizona. It's rude to comment on other people like that," Fusou ordered.
"Oh, I'm sorry Arizona. It's just that I was feeling a bit jealous!" Yamashiro explained with that typical happiness in her voice.
"I can assure you that you have nothing to be jealous about. The Commander looks at you two every chance he gets," Arizona replied thoughtfully, attempting to square that with the affection he'd shown her.
"Which pisses Tennessee off to no end!" Penny added jovially. "What did you do to her by the way?"
"Who, me?" Fusou asked with surprise.
"Yeah, you. That girl won't shut up about those 'Sakura cat tarts and their tits and tails'," Pennsylvania recounted, reaching out a hand of comfort as Fusou looked down shamefully. "Hey, don't listen to her, alright? A lot of bad things have happened to her, none of which have anything to do with you. You want my honest opinion? She's finally found a man that hasn't stabbed her in the back and she doesn't have any idea how to deal with the fact that he pays attention to his other ships too."
"Penny!" Arizona gasped.
"What, it's true," she shrugged, not caring in the least about sparing Tennessee. "Look, let's just get off the subject of our bodies, alright. The Commander would be too lucky by half to get with any of us...wait, why are all of you looking away from me like that. Oh for the love of...all of you?!"
"Tono-sama is warm, and smells nice, and saved my life! Of course I want to lay with him!" Yamashiro reasoned passionately. Pennsylvania ran a hand through her hair and took in the trees and clouds for a moment rather than look at the bashful faces of Arizona and Fusou. "Ok, let's just deal with this later. Did you two have something to discuss with us?"
"Yes, actually. Miss Arizona, the Commander requested that we seek you out for aid in rebuilding our own hulls with shards acquired from today’s battle. He says you managed to do so," Fusou explained as gulls called far above them. Arizona nodded.
"I'd be happy to! Do you think there's anything we can salvage from your old ship?" She asked, pointing out at the pagoda of the Fusou as it jutted from the shallow water of the bay.
"I will see. Just give me a moment," Fusou requested. The shrine maiden activated her rigging, four massive turrets and a miniature command tower, and set out for the wreck. For a moment she floated above it, hesitating as memory after memory assailed her. "How much more must my sister and I suffer? Begone, cursed ship. You will mock me no longer. At tono-sama's command I will reforge you into an instrument of his will...of my will. Now serve me!"
At Fusou's order the wreck shimmered and vanished, returning to its prior state. She collected the two cubes and skated back to her sister and the Union ships. They nodded supportively.
"Come!" Arizona called kindly. "Let's walk while we converse."
A short time later they were in front of the matrix, still set in construction mode. "Now comes the hard part," Yamashiro said. "All we were given was glimpses of plans. We could just build our old ships again, but tono-sama really seems to want planes!"
"Wait, why can't you both do what Arizona suggested?" Penny asked. "Both of you get into the machine and imagine your ideal ship. She and I managed to link our minds together aboard her ship just now. There's no reason the two of you couldn't again in there. It would be just like when you helped Yamashiro that night," the Union shipgirl reasoned. The Fusou class sisters looked at her curiously.
"You linked with your sister?"
"Yeah Fusou, we did the same thing the Commander does with his flagship. Physical contact and an activation pulse. You can try it on your new ship. Now get in there. We've only got an hour before dinner and I'm sure the Commander wants as many hulls in the water as possible. There's no guarantee those royals will join us," Penny stated. They all nodded.
"We are in your debt, both of you. We will carry out tono-sama's orders now," Fusou replied, turning to open the matrix and step in.
"We're all on the same side here. Go ahead Yamashiro. We'll stay here to make sure you're alright," Arizona offered. The short haired cat battleship nodded and hugged her again.
"Tono-sama is truly a wise Commander to bring us all together like this. I'm happy to have new friends!" With that, Yamashiro stumbled into the matrix and Penny activated it, watching carefully to ensure nothing went wrong during the filling process.
"Yeah I guess you're right, Ari. The Sakura...the ones here at least aren't so bad," she admitted.
"Even though they're our rivals in love?" Arizona giggled as the matrix filled fully and the shrine sisters entered a peaceful state of suspended animation.
"Since when is it 'we'?"
"Since about an hour ago?" Arizona shrugged.
"You realize how bad this could all go, right? We can't be selfish, Ari. The Commander is a good man running a damn fine base in the middle of a goddamn ring of fire. If we start fighting each other…"
"I know, Penny. And you're right, like always," Arizona replied soothingly.
"I wasn't right about him," she admitted.
"But that's in the past. I know I might be a hopeless romantic, Penny, but what if we all keep this bottled up inside, stopping ourselves only because of each other. Would you resent them any less than if they took Andrew to bed one night?"
Pennsylvania huffed as she contemplated her sister's question. "I don't know, Arizona. But you're not wrong either."
"I think they would treat him well."
"I'd rather not think about it."
"What do you think they're talking about?" Arizona asked, watching the faces of the shrine maidens shift subtly. They seemed at peace.
"Hopefully something more pleasant than the night they came here."
----- "Teehee, hi Fusou nee-san!" "Hello, dear sister. Shall we begin?" "Ok, I was thinking of putting the catapult on the starboard side and...Fusou-nee, why are you imagining giving tono-sama a massage?" "I-it's nothing! Just a figment that tanned cruiser from the Union put in my head. That calm and collected one with the impressive rigging." "It doesn't look like nothing! Let Yamashiro join in! Oh tono-sama! Your broad hands feel so good! You can be lovey dovey with Yamashiro all you like!" "Yamashiro!" "Ok ok, the catapult goes here! Nee-san, do you think we should increase our defenses? You saw the new Arizona, right? She had so many guns and her torpedo bulges were quite robust. I've always wanted a big hull." "That Tennessee woman has a body and ship to be desired as well. We have the energy and tono-sama gave you orders, right?" "Build the best Yamashiro I can!" "Then why don't we start with more secure ammunition storage and better shell elevators." "Oh...yeah that's a good point, Fusou-nee. That incident was no fun at all." "Yamashiro, may I ask you something?" "You can ask me anything, nee-san! I'm going to get rid of the galley and crew bunks and add some extra torpedo defenses here and here!" "Do you believe we did the right thing? When we fight with these new ships...we will almost certainly be shooting at our fellow sisters of the Sakura. The gods have been...silent of late." "We just need to build a shrine here! The gods will answer your calls, like they always do. How much do we have left, 55%? Ok, I think I want to make a nice helm just in case tono-sama chooses me as a flagship!" "Oh Yamashiro, I envy your unflagging spirit." "Fusou-nee, tono-sama spared us. Don't you think he will spare the others too? Aren't we still fighting for the gods and our homes?" "...yes, dear sister. Yes we are. What a wonderful new ship this will be." "And we'll do it again right after! I know these hulls will be lucky, just like tono-sama said."
"Penny, look!" Arizona cried as Yamashiro's kimono began to change subtly. Two white, fluffy balls of cotton hung from her neck and a broad band of interwoven red and white fabric circled her waist. The two Pennsylvania class sisters watched as the younger maiden's body changed as well.
"Did she...did her tits and ass just get larger?" Pennsylvania asked in disbelief.
"I think she's a bit larger everywhere," Arizona agreed. What do you think is going on?"
"The sarcastic answer is she feels the need to compete with us Pennsylvania class boats since we're all what, firm and perky?" She scoffed.
"Is she wrong? There's a reason you don't button anything higher than your navel," Arizona countered.
"Fine, whatever. Flaunt it if you got it, I say. And she's got plenty of side boob to flaunt now. But you want my honest answer, the one the Commander would likely conclude from all this?"
"What's that, sis?"
"They succeeded. Her ship is fundamentally different now...and so her body is changing to reflect that. Let's hope she's as good in combat as she looks in a kimono."
"Didn't take you for a critic of the female form, Penny."
"Oh shush, you. Did you get a sense of humor while you were gone too? Even I...even I can watch Thorson's eyes."
"They're on you quite a bit."
"I know, Ari. But let's help them now. We need to clear the docks and get the older sister going."
"Aye aye, sis!" Arizona agreed, striding forward to help a confused but happy Yamashiro who had a new center of gravity to adjust to as she stepped unsteadily from the matrix. The younger sisters immediately fell into conversation about Thorson and his sensibilities.
"You don't think tono-sama will find me fat?" Yamashiro asked with worry.
"I'll bet you dessert tonight that he can't take his eyes off you" Arizona reassured her.
"You're so nice, Arizona-san! And you're warm just like the Commander!"
"Arizona is fine, Yamashiro."
By the time the dinner bell rang out across the base, three new hulls sat in dock next to the Warspite. The Arizona, Yamashiro, and Fusou were all seaworthy, the latter two retrofitted with thicker armor, plane catapults, more small caliber guns, and upgraded systems, much as Arizona had attempted with her own hull.
To Penny's enjoyment and mirth, Fusou had also 'suffered' a change in physiology to match the changes to her ship. A billowing kimono, almost like a flowing river, encircled her buxom form as two large orbs of translucent jade adorned the corners of the lower back portion of the fabric. While previously Fusou was easily the more svelte of the two sisters, she could now give Yamashiro a run for her money. She moaned into Pennsylvania's shoulder as the older Union sister helped her along.
"What will tono-sama think of me like this?! It will take days to get used to this posterior!"
"Only good things, I'm sure," Penny added with a roll of her eyes directed at Arizona.
"Oh sister, be nice!" Arizona encouraged as she caught Yamashiro by the arm. The younger maiden had stumbled again. "Ready to make your debut?"
"I think so. Thank you for all your help today, Arizona!" Yamashiro replied. "Are you busy after dinner?"
"Not unless the Commander has orders for us," Arizona replied.
"Would you like me to brush your hair then?" Yamashiro asked. Arizona seemed taken off guard. Fusou stepped in to clarify.
"Yamashiro wishes to speak with you more and deepen your friendship. Besides, you have such long, beautiful hair it would be a waste not to care for it. Maybe we have some extra hairpins lying around?"
"I...that would be nice. Thank you," Arizona replied after getting a non-committal look from her sister. "See you two after dinner then."
Commander Thorson had just been about to go looking for the quartet of battleships when the doors to the mess opened. He was sitting with the Union and Royal forces. Tennessee placed two fingers in her mouth and whistled an expert catcall. "Don't know what happened to those two feline tarts, but you destroyers are in over your heads," Tennessee stated in a tone very much meant to cause trouble.
"Laffey is Commander's first ship and always will be. Laffey will always have kisses from Commander," she claimed defiantly, standing up and waddling sleepily up to Thorson. He heaved a sigh but relented, placing a kiss on Laffey's lips that had her cooing with delight and Tennessee making gagging noises. Downes laughed heartily as Javelin joined her friend.
"Uh Commander, this may seem a bit forward of me but do you like my skirt?" She requested. Thorson turned to her and cocked a brow as he swallowed a forkful of shepherd's pie. He took what was admittedly a risk and looked down, finding her body to be much more similar to Cleveland’s than Laffey’s. That put him at ease as he studied her blue and purple plaid skirt.
"It suits you, matches your hair and goes well with your top," he tried, wanting to be polite. He and Warspite were still at odds regarding the command structure of the nascent alliance and he didn't want to do anything to offend. Javelin beamed at him.
"Laffey?" She asked eagerly as Yamashiro and Fusou sat at the Sakura table, earning a great deal of attention from their compatriots.
"Javelin will enjoy it very much, Laffey is sure."
"Say no more!" Javelin exclaimed, taking Thorson's by the cheeks and planting her lips square on his. Tennessee shoveled the rest of her food into her mouth, chugged her water and stood before storming off.
"I'll be in the gym," she called darkly. Thorson was forced to let her go as Pennsylvania and Arizona couldn't help but laugh.
"What's a few more rivals, eh Penny?" Arizona chuckled. "Oh, thank you Shiratsuyu. This looks delightful!"
"Of course. And here's a plate for you, Pennsylvania. We broke open a new barrel of crude today," the canine destroyer informed them. Penny took a whiff of the food.
"Smells great, kid. Thanks a million. I'm starving. Oh and new girl, lay it on easy would you? We got here first and my guns are way larger than yours."
Leander snorted into her drink as Javelin withdrew from Thorson, the crown atop her head slightly askew. "I didn't mean any offense, I can assure you. I just don't think the Commander has any idea what to do with a girl like me being assigned to him! It really did look like loads of fun."
"Perhaps thine Commander hath lewd thoughts regarding destroyers?" Vampire added.
"On that we can agree," Pennsylvania replied. "My name's Pennsylvania, Union battleship. This is my sister, Arizona"
"Javelin, Royal destroyer at your service!" She replied, waving back to them as Thorson finally received a break.
"And we have not been assigned to him," Warspite cut in bitterly.
"Yo, what's got into your...you're not wearing pants. Bonnet then?" Penny demanded of the battleship.
"Pennsylvania, that's enough," Thorson finally cut in. "It was a condition of their remaining here and fighting with us. Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth."
"As you say Commander. Introductions?" Pennsylvania asked. Thorson nodded, introducing the royals to his fleet and explaining the circumstances and conditions of their stay at the facility. The Pennsylvania sisters in turn gave a full report on the status of the reconstruction of the Fusou and Yamashiro. The meal proceeded calmly thereafter, with conversation continuing long into the evening. After the chaos of that afternoon it was comforting to everyone to be able to sit, chat, and enjoy a meal without disruption. It was only when the sun was about to set that Warspite stood and bade them good evening, saying she needed to move her personal effects from her ship to the dormitory. Leander, Javelin, and Ark Royal followed to do the same, with Laffey departing to tag along with her friend.
The cruisers and Downes left next, with Cleveland explaining that they were rigging the Union dorms for demolition that night and that on the morrow they intended to start construction of a grand colonial building with white clapboard siding, a star spangled door, a candle in every window, communal spaces, a barn style annex with plenty of loft-style living space, individual rooms on the second and third floors, as well as a grand brick fireplace. When asked about a fireplace in the tropics, Portland informed him that the aesthetics of the structure we important and that the glory of the Union should not be compromised due to weather. He found it impossible to deny them.
That left only him, Vampire, and the Pennsylvania sisters. The petite Royal looked to him. "Commander, I would request thine presence and escort to the cemetery of this facility."
Arizona and Pennsylvania looked at one another in confusion as Thorson stood. "A sailor of the Royal Navy needs to be laid to rest tonight. The two of you are free this evening. Thank you for helping Yamashiro and Fusou. They, unlike the rest of the Sakura, will likely fight against their own kind...I had hoped-"
"Arizona! Shall we go brush your hair? Pennsylvania can come too!" Yamashiro called from the next table over. Fusou was corralling the young ones for bed.
"I'll give her a hand with the little flavored kittens. Can't be easy. I wonder how that Ark woman was so good at it," Pennsylvania murmured. They both noticed Thorson looking at them with an opaque expression.
"I'm damn proud of both of you. Thank you," he said quietly. They smiled and saluted before joining their counterparts from the Sakura and departing the mess.
"Perhaps thine thoughts are full of loving fantasies with battleships instead," Vampire asked teasingly.
"I'd be lying if I said no. They've all been through a lot and it's hard not to be attracted to women of strength," Thorson confessed as his Union girls and a pair of cat tails left the mess. "Tonight though let's focus on you and laying midshipman Tennyson to rest."
"Thou hast my eternal thanks, Commander Thorson. Please escort me to my ship."
Thorson had no frame of reference to understand why Vampire continued to hold the demeanor of a Victorian lady, despite looking like something out of an erotic Transylvanian fantasy. But he knew well that every ship had her own quirks. This one he was willing to humor. He offered her his arm. "My Lady of the night, may I deliver you to your ship?"
She batted her eyelashes at him and curtseyed in her already short skirt, displaying her sheer black leggings and alabaster thighs all the way to the line of her black panties. "Lead on, my Commander."
Much appreciated if anyone can share Fat Jack's picks today Welcome Back to the Fat Jack Sports Service! We value our clients and as a way to say, "thank you" we offer a past client special rate. Get all of Jack's college and NFL SELECTIONS FOR 30 DAYS! This package starts with your first sent selection and runs for 30 days from that date! $489.00 Fat Jack Sports is a sports handicapping service lead by their lead sports analyst “Fat Jack” who’s been a sports handicapper for almost 20 years. Jack’s sports betting picks against the spread have been recorded and documented throughout his 20 year career and you can hear him live on the radio as a sports prognsiticator and Jack Ross, aka The Fat Jack, has been a leading sports analyst for 20 years. His records are documented and recorded. Jack talks openly every week on his national radio show, The Fat Jack Sports Hour, about his performance. He can also be found LIVE on over 40+ sports talk radio stations across the US. By The Fat Jack • 03/18/2020 12:27 PM Recent Posts audio 59:50 Download Share. The Fat Jack Sports Hour - Week 30 Local (... Posted by The Fat Jack, 03/18/2020 12:25 PM audio 59:50 Download Share. The Fat Jack Sports Hour - Week 29 Nationa... Posted by The Fat Jack, 03/11/2020 01:32 AM