Users who are viewing this thread
hairfree
Njiekovic said:
Your old story is rather confusing...At least was to me, from what I could gather from it anyway, so good luck to Robby
Pumpkin Lord
This project still looking for a scripter? Sent PMs to both wheene and nema but received nothing.
robbyg
Knight
This is a little story I am writing:
Small edit to change phrasing and such where needed. I won't be continuing this story for a while I think, sorry
The mountainous vista was beautiful. White-topped peaks pierced the clear blue sky. Green pine freckles dotted them, becoming more numerous as they reached the base of the mountains until the freckles merged into forests.
The beauty was marred only by the curl of black smoke that puffed into the air from behind one of the mountains.
Berin, the elven ranger stood on one of the high passes surveying the scene. He wore elven chainmail, covered by furs of brown and white. The furs were green and brown on the reverse side for use when travelling in woody areas, such as the pine forests at the base of the mountains.
Right now, Berin was scouting amongst the mountain heights, and the white and brown suited his purpose better.
He gazed at the smoke for some time and as understanding washed over him, his expression turned into a scowl.
He knew where the smoke came from. A small elven village was there, hidden and secret from the world. At least until now.
The smoke could be from an accidental fire but that was unlikely. The elves in that village had been living in secret for far too long to make such a mistake.
No, Berin knew what was happening and the certainty of it sent a worm of fear into his heart.
With a grim set to his face, Berin set off for the village with a rangers league-eating jog.
The sun had been high in the sky when Berin set off for the village. Now it hung low, leaving only a few hours before darkness fell.
Berin looked upon the village from a bush-covered hiding place. Smoke occasionally stung his eyes and tears rolled down his cheeks, but only partly from the acrid fumes.
The village was in ruins. Wooden lodges were caved in on themselves, blackened and burned.
Elven bodies lay in bloodied heaps on the ground, left where they had fallen. Scores of small grey-brown bodies littered amongst the elven dozens.
Orgs.
A grievous loss indeed. Elves were too few in number to absorb such losses easily and it was likely that this village would never be populated again. The Orgs, however, were a vermin race. They bred in litters like rats, squirming and squeezing over each other as they clamoured for space in their tightly packed dens. The Elves birthed only a few children each in their long lifespans.
It was obvious that the village had been attacked in surprise. They had been squashed from both ends by the org raiders. No chance of escape.
Berin's vantage point afforded a view of most of the village, and saw all this through the crackle of the fires that still burned. In the dimming light, org raiders were busy dispatching elven wounded and looting what remained of their wealth.
The orgs loved elven trinkets and adorned their bodies with as many as they could get their hands on. A silver elven ear-loop served as a bracelet for one org. An elven woolen scarf worn as a sash by another.
Amidst the crackling fires and groans of the wounded a piercing scream filled the dusk air. A female scream. Org laughter followed, evil in its intent.
Berin looked to where he thought the scream came from but a large outlying building blocked his view.
He could see no way to get there other than by through the village itself.
With stealth and luck it was a dangerous undertaking even for a ranger, and suicide for anyone else.
More screams came from the back of the village, the same voice as before, and Berin knew he could not just leave her.
Taking deep breaths to calm and slow his breathing he made his way back down the trail that led to his hiding place and cautiously moved towards the village.
The beauty was marred only by the curl of black smoke that puffed into the air from behind one of the mountains.
Berin, the elven ranger stood on one of the high passes surveying the scene. He wore elven chainmail, covered by furs of brown and white. The furs were green and brown on the reverse side for use when travelling in woody areas, such as the pine forests at the base of the mountains.
Right now, Berin was scouting amongst the mountain heights, and the white and brown suited his purpose better.
He gazed at the smoke for some time and as understanding washed over him, his expression turned into a scowl.
He knew where the smoke came from. A small elven village was there, hidden and secret from the world. At least until now.
The smoke could be from an accidental fire but that was unlikely. The elves in that village had been living in secret for far too long to make such a mistake.
No, Berin knew what was happening and the certainty of it sent a worm of fear into his heart.
With a grim set to his face, Berin set off for the village with a rangers league-eating jog.
The sun had been high in the sky when Berin set off for the village. Now it hung low, leaving only a few hours before darkness fell.
Berin looked upon the village from a bush-covered hiding place. Smoke occasionally stung his eyes and tears rolled down his cheeks, but only partly from the acrid fumes.
The village was in ruins. Wooden lodges were caved in on themselves, blackened and burned.
Elven bodies lay in bloodied heaps on the ground, left where they had fallen. Scores of small grey-brown bodies littered amongst the elven dozens.
Orgs.
A grievous loss indeed. Elves were too few in number to absorb such losses easily and it was likely that this village would never be populated again. The Orgs, however, were a vermin race. They bred in litters like rats, squirming and squeezing over each other as they clamoured for space in their tightly packed dens. The Elves birthed only a few children each in their long lifespans.
It was obvious that the village had been attacked in surprise. They had been squashed from both ends by the org raiders. No chance of escape.
Berin's vantage point afforded a view of most of the village, and saw all this through the crackle of the fires that still burned. In the dimming light, org raiders were busy dispatching elven wounded and looting what remained of their wealth.
The orgs loved elven trinkets and adorned their bodies with as many as they could get their hands on. A silver elven ear-loop served as a bracelet for one org. An elven woolen scarf worn as a sash by another.
Amidst the crackling fires and groans of the wounded a piercing scream filled the dusk air. A female scream. Org laughter followed, evil in its intent.
Berin looked to where he thought the scream came from but a large outlying building blocked his view.
He could see no way to get there other than by through the village itself.
With stealth and luck it was a dangerous undertaking even for a ranger, and suicide for anyone else.
More screams came from the back of the village, the same voice as before, and Berin knew he could not just leave her.
Taking deep breaths to calm and slow his breathing he made his way back down the trail that led to his hiding place and cautiously moved towards the village.
Small edit to change phrasing and such where needed. I won't be continuing this story for a while I think, sorry
Huzzah! Good decision.
wheene
Sergeant Knight at Arms
We have just launched a funding campaign at indiegogo.com http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/123097?show_todos=true&a=706771 . Goal of the campaign is to build second preview version of DayDream that will be much bigger, better and generaly more awesome than the first. If you liked the first demo, please consider donating to us, every penny counts! There are some pretty interesting perks that you might be interested in, so go and check the site now
hairfree
That poor, poor texturer...
robbyg
Knight
Some backstory for the demon race/culture:
Raceemons [Abyss Spawn]
Backstory:Existing in the Demonic Plane, souls that make their way here are cursed indeed. Nothing but suffering and pain exists for them here. Such an existance twists an already twisted soul and their mortal image reflects their souls. There are many worlds in the demonic plane, just as there are in the lower and upper planes. Upon the demon worlds, Demon Lords or Captains vie for supremacy. The more power they possess, the more pain and cruelty they can inflict upon other beings and this is what drives them. They hate everything, including their own kind. They have intelligence though, to varying degrees, and the most powerful and intelligent of these rise to become the Lords and Captains. At the highest level, Demons will war upon other worlds in the demonic plane, if they can find a way to reach them, and the death and slaughter is then on a truly global scale.
Way of Life:In the demonic plane, demons need neither sleep nor food and exist only to hurt each other in any way they can. They only know hatred and fear. The weak fear the strong and the strong inflict their will upon the weak. If a demon can possess the soul of another they will take it and force it to merge with their own soul, making them stronger. Such an undertaking is not always successful, and a very strong demon is as likely to scatter its souls across the land than be successfully merged with its enemy. These souls will start again at the lowest rung of demonic society. [Note: With a successful merging of souls, the demons appearance will change into something stronger and also an improvement in abilities.]
Cities/Towns/Villagesemons have no craftsmen/women among them. They do not seek shelter from the weather - indeed upon the demon worlds the "weather" is very different. There is no day or night, just eternal suffering. The lands are blasted and barren. They do have plantlife - twisted roots and trees and such - "food" for the demons to feast upon and grow themselves. Demons do not build villages, towns or cities as humans do but the very powerful may forge the bones and flesh of conquered enemies into mighty fortresses. Some very unlucky demons are sewn into these constructions whilst still alive - one of the most cruel punishments a Demon Lord might put upon its enemies [Note: Imagine a row of heads above a grand set of doors that heralded arrivals and such or used as a bell - and they are rung by another demon pulling on their living tissue that trails down the wall. It would be very painful and the head(s) would shriek in agony giving the sound.]
Weaponryemons don't mine into the ground for ores and do not have any craftsmen or women. They might pick up bones from the ground and use them but many demons would have spikes or horns or some other natural way to kill easily including vicious jaws. Original weapons like a blade could again only be made by strong demons, using the leftovers (bones/horns/spikes etc) of their vanquished enemies and would imbue the item with souls to give them magical abilities. For example, a long spinal structure with serrated cutting edges would make a very useful one-piece weapon. Imbued with powers to strengthen its structure so it would not break.
Armour:Again, the only armour a Demon has is naturally grown (which can include metal pieces) or pieces it has stolen/looted/forged itself.
Misc: A music track that is giving me inspiration while writing for Demons: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUPXvU2LLGc&feature=autoplay&list=PL7485D8A9A2D5565A&playnext=4
emons [Abyss Spawn]Backstory:Existing in the Demonic Plane, souls that make their way here are cursed indeed. Nothing but suffering and pain exists for them here. Such an existance twists an already twisted soul and their mortal image reflects their souls. There are many worlds in the demonic plane, just as there are in the lower and upper planes. Upon the demon worlds, Demon Lords or Captains vie for supremacy. The more power they possess, the more pain and cruelty they can inflict upon other beings and this is what drives them. They hate everything, including their own kind. They have intelligence though, to varying degrees, and the most powerful and intelligent of these rise to become the Lords and Captains. At the highest level, Demons will war upon other worlds in the demonic plane, if they can find a way to reach them, and the death and slaughter is then on a truly global scale.
Way of Life:In the demonic plane, demons need neither sleep nor food and exist only to hurt each other in any way they can. They only know hatred and fear. The weak fear the strong and the strong inflict their will upon the weak. If a demon can possess the soul of another they will take it and force it to merge with their own soul, making them stronger. Such an undertaking is not always successful, and a very strong demon is as likely to scatter its souls across the land than be successfully merged with its enemy. These souls will start again at the lowest rung of demonic society. [Note: With a successful merging of souls, the demons appearance will change into something stronger and also an improvement in abilities.]
Cities/Towns/Villages
emons have no craftsmen/women among them. They do not seek shelter from the weather - indeed upon the demon worlds the "weather" is very different. There is no day or night, just eternal suffering. The lands are blasted and barren. They do have plantlife - twisted roots and trees and such - "food" for the demons to feast upon and grow themselves. Demons do not build villages, towns or cities as humans do but the very powerful may forge the bones and flesh of conquered enemies into mighty fortresses. Some very unlucky demons are sewn into these constructions whilst still alive - one of the most cruel punishments a Demon Lord might put upon its enemies [Note: Imagine a row of heads above a grand set of doors that heralded arrivals and such or used as a bell - and they are rung by another demon pulling on their living tissue that trails down the wall. It would be very painful and the head(s) would shriek in agony giving the sound.]Weaponry
emons don't mine into the ground for ores and do not have any craftsmen or women. They might pick up bones from the ground and use them but many demons would have spikes or horns or some other natural way to kill easily including vicious jaws. Original weapons like a blade could again only be made by strong demons, using the leftovers (bones/horns/spikes etc) of their vanquished enemies and would imbue the item with souls to give them magical abilities. For example, a long spinal structure with serrated cutting edges would make a very useful one-piece weapon. Imbued with powers to strengthen its structure so it would not break.Armour:Again, the only armour a Demon has is naturally grown (which can include metal pieces) or pieces it has stolen/looted/forged itself.
Misc: A music track that is giving me inspiration while writing for Demons: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUPXvU2LLGc&feature=autoplay&list=PL7485D8A9A2D5565A&playnext=4
hairfree
Oh daymn...First 30 seconds or so of footage, I thought the video was about Skyrim, 'cause a rock looked like corundium ore...Until I saw the Elven axemen Freakin' nice...Looks a lot better in Warband in any case.
Freakin' nice...Looks a lot better in Warband in any case.