Random Dump of Story Stuff

This is just some random incomplete stuff I wanted to dump somewhere.
Maybe someone will draw inspiration from it? Maybe a laugh? Or something?



Btw this is definitely not quality stuff.

Spoiler: Gilmeth Shorts (Incomplete)

Today the guild Gilmeth was bustling with activities and vigorous adventurers as usual, although there were slight differences with the usual routine.

That being a maid and other visitors whom had entered today.

Among those visitors had been some mages as well.

*All scenes take place in Gilmeth Guild or in its vicinity

Spoiler: Some Mages

Gathered within a small room, five robed magicians stood around a small table. Each with different postures and gimmicks to their attire.

A mage dressed in a red shawl spoke up with a faint and feminine voice, gathering the gazes of her acquaintances.

Red Magician: “…you all seem so much more mature than last we met. Is it because you all got beaten senseless by that dragon?”

Immediately a cough came from beside her.

Blue Magician: “Milliard was the one who forgot to use a defensive spell. Everyone else did their part.”

White Magician (Milliard): “W-WA-wait. None of you told me that I would have to prepare against a DRAGON. A flippin DR—“

Green Magician: “Dragon. Yeah. Though shouldn’t you have been prepared from the start? It’s not unheard of for draconic folk to participate.”

Mill: “But it’s not common either!!”

RM: “Either way it’s over now. So let’s leave this dark history of yours to rot.”

Yellow Magician: “Is it really dark history? Normally, the average person wouldn’t have lasted as long as we did.”

RM: “Though your not the average person.”

YM: “…”

RM: “So then, what have you been up to Garis?”

Black Magician (Garis): “A bit of Necrurgy.”

RM: “…What?”

G: “Well ‘mancer’ means divination in latin, and I don’t divine fate using the dead.”

RM: “Oh, then why necrurgy?”

G: “Urgy means to create or work with.”

RM: “Well I suppose that ma—“

BM: “M-my life has been a lie.”

YM: “As well as mine…”

RM: “…?”

BM: “A-anyway, Minel, what have you done so far?”

Red Magician (Minel): “Uhm, I’ve been focusing on translating archaic runes for awhile now.”

BM: “That sounds much more boring than our endeavors. As expected of Minel.”

Min: “…”

Min: “It’s to learn an ancient spell that summons lava and meteors from the sky.”

Everyone Else: “…”

Spoiler: Maydo

Today master was too tired to make his usual request in person so I had to take his place. Although it makes more sense to just send a letter to the guild he always complains about how “—disrespectful it is to the adventurers who risk their lives.” Even the adventurers don’t mind, which isn’t a surprise considering they have more important things to be upset about… such as monsters. The monsters—are truly frightening. Thankfully those monsters don’t ever make it near the capital, courtesy of the royal army making thorough patrols. Currently, I’m about to reach the guild from the main street of the capital.

*maydo walking in progress*

Hmmm, the guild looks as bland as ever; I would’ve thought they had renovated it by now…

The windows look new at leas—

I-is this door alright? It’s almost as if an upset dragon came by to vent anger. Oh wait, dragon kin might’ve actually came here. That wouldn’t be strange.

…

*door creak*

Huh, despite appearances this place is rather popular… well that’s good.

That’s not good. Too many people are staring.

I’m just a maid! Please don’t look, I already know this is weird.

Wait, it shouldn’t be weird right? It makes sense for nobles to send servants to a guild when making requests. Or servants with letters.

So…. do nobles not use this guild? O-or could it be that t-their tasting me with their e-eyes.

I-I uh, just need to ignore them and finish my duty. Yeah.

*looks at desks of staff(?)*

“U-Um, sir!”

“Yes?”

Why do scary looking people have to staff the reception desks? He looks like he came from the eastern forests and has just given up his past of savagery for a life in the capital. He even has a cliche scar running through his eye. A-at least he isn’t blind. That wou—

“Ma’am?”

“O-oh uh, I’ve come here to make a request in place of lord Sabotte.”

This is so troublesome…

“Ah, I see. Your going to ask for the usual Mulnberry request right?”

“Yes.”

“Then please sign here.”

“Okay.”

One request for 20 mulnberries so that we may restock… yep, everything seems to be in order.

*signing request paper*

…

I can feel their stares.

H-help.

Spoiler: Very Short Gaurd Thingy

It’s the last day of work before my temporary leave. Honestly I don’t even want to bother for today….

Ugh, many of them reek of alcohol. Did somebody finish a major quest and buy a round? Pity I’m on duty.

Because I have to break up any fights.

*Depressed sigh*

Please don’t become raging drunks, just five more minutes and my shift is over.

Five more minutes and I can buy that book at Marnik’s and hole up in my house for a week.

…

Is it going to rain on the way back?

*glances through window at cloudy sky*

Overcast.

The temperature isn’t hostile either.

*faint smile*

Today’s perfect. Just a little more time before freedo—

“YOU F*CKING C*NT THIS SHIRT’S WORTH MORE THAN YOUR LIFE…”

…

*Depressed sigh*

Spoiler: Creep

Day 45



Once again she’s sitting at the northwest corner right in front of the window that’s shaded with a tree. She looks indifferent… must’ve been the dress that wasn’t appropriately sized by the seamstress. Maybe I can order one for her, I know all her sizes after all. WAIT, better yet I’ll make one for her. Yes. I’ll just leave it in a box at her doorstep an— oh! She ordered Tuevimilla Tea this time. It smells nice. But not as nice as she does…. HA, yet another idea! I should make tea that smells like her, then we both can enjoy it! Hah, hahha…. How does one do such a thing? I think there was something about drinks infused with the soul of tributes written in the Urgnomicon… A-ah. She left. Did she hear me again?

Spoiler: Cinn

The sound of water dripping filled Cinn’s mind as he stared blankly at the pages in front of him.

A shallow breath leaves his lungs, melding with the sound of heavy rain.



“Am I dead yet?” He glances around with a hollow gaze only to find that he is still on his couch. A sigh is freed from his lips.

“—mm… life is too boring sometimes.”

“Not that I really care…”



He shifts into a comfortable position on his couch and continues to stare listlessly at his book.

…

….

…..

!!!!!!



A portal opens to his right, in front of the couch, revealing a silhouette with no eyes or a mouth. It let’s out a voice brim with eeriness:

“I am here to DANCE!”



Cinn stays still in confusion, as it slowly moves to tap something invisible. Music starts playing, at first very distorted, before becoming clear.

The silhouette begins to break dance as DnB music starts echoing from the portal.

Cinn is staring at it.

Cinn is now blind.

Cinn is now dead.

——————————————————

The creature stands above his corpse in silence, before suddenly tearing its skin apart with claws.

The silhouette is now a demon with horns and wings.

“He’s dead.”



A coarse and thin voice replies with hints of joy.

“A devil’s work is never done huh… ”

———————————————————

Cinn wakes up to see a red moon hanging over an empty wasteland. Every direction he looks at is devoid of life, of anything. Save for some rocks on the hard clay-looking ground.

“…”

A moment of excitement coursed through his veins for a briefly before dread payed its dues.

“*animal_noises.mp3*” He screams as his figure crumples to the ground.



Distraught, he lays in a fetal position for two hours.

————————————————————

Spoiler: Lazily Written Thing

It is late a night. It might even be midnight right now.

Even so, I don’t really care.

It doesn’t matter unless I finish this last research paper for his majesty. This time we were experimenting on Dulius Maokan, trying to extract it’s restoring properties. Although results appeared promising for a while, we realized that our efforts were futile. At most Dulius’ essence can only heal minor injuries and infections. Not lost appendages or crippled organs. It simply isn’t potent enough, even in concentrate form.

As such, there is no possible chance for the royal family to recover unless we set off on an expedition.

Hence why we were sent on an expedition by his majesty…

To Martmeir….



I won’t lie; right now I’d much rather be treading the Malurgy Wastelands on a hunt for Carnmil fangs. That would be plenty easier than crossing a vast ocean to a land of horrific creatures and then making a trip back. Although both scenarios seem awfully grim. Especially so thinking back to last year’s requisition quest. I still recall Glid’s tear stained face as he slept in the infirmary’s bed.

…

….

…..

Tomorrow we will be leaving the capital for a port city. They’ve yet to tell me its name but I suppose it’s a matter of security.

Well, it’s about time I stop writing and get some sleep in preparation for the awful carriage ride.

——————————————————————————————————————

Ugh.

Waking up early in the morning is horrid.

….

Today is the day we leave. Today is the day I leave home for several months. Or years. Maybe this will be the last time I’m home and some monster will eat my corpse.

I can’t help but be uneasy, not that it will help so might as well think of other things.

Right, I think they have settlements like towns and cities over there, even if they’re sparse across. The lands are thick with forests and woodlands towards the coast with few swamps or beaches acting as a buffer in between. Prairies and plateaus extend afterwards, to the north they become rigid mountains and to the south become blistering deserts. There’s not much else we know as of now. Although we’ve settled the place, it’s a harsh environment that restricts expeditions with wild life.

I’ve heard of carnivorous plants that pull men’s limbs apart and beasts that can weather upper grade offensive magic like a breeze. Though some of these may just be exaggeration. Hopefully.

Wait.

I need to get to the carriage.

*Some sprinting*

Spoiler: Fictional War Thing

Flak erupted around the grey clouds that drizzled rain upon the trench I lay in. It seemed that another group of paratroopers were sent to reinforce the front lines some ways ahead. Though I don’t have high hopes for their assistance; many of them must have died to shrapnel from the flak trucks. Not that I can tell for sure. There’s already too much blood mixed in the mud and rain for me to see farther than 20 meters. Even so, the sounds that echo through the mist this morning don’t give me the right to hope.

It’s rather impressive how those pilots can still fly through all of this. Perhaps it’s clearer up there above the clouds where the light shines… Or maybe it’s no different than this drear place. Surely they too are being hunted and slain by our enemy, leaving them with vengeance to fuel the pyre within their minds.

In any case, it appears that we’ll have to fall back. Too many entrenchments keeping us from pushing forward, and too little ammunition.



A resupply convoy was to pass nearby to drop off much needed logistical support; however, an ambush was launched rendering it useless. Apparently one of our flanks was slaughtered, leaving a gap to move through for Kelmian Riflemen.

If you bothered to read all that, than kudos to you cause even I don't feel like it.