New Fantasy writing/modelling comp
It was going to be a mid-October launch, but have decided to launch now as it may take some time for people to decide to join and to get judges etc sorted. https://i.imgur.com/6m0241E.png ...
Forum Discussion
So so so sorry loves! Life is just a little hectic, lots of December 1st deadlines for college stuff. My bad loves! Sorry the pic is a bit rushed... took forever trying to edit the original pic I did, wanted to include other sims but couldn't figure out how to include the other models without getting all of their CC so that idea was abandoned last minute. If yous have any tips for how I could without all of the CC, please please please let me know lol. Also, tried to make the writing seem less repetitive! Without further ado tho, here yous go:
Spoiler
When the morning comes, the other members of the party begin to deliberate yet again. I’m not quite sure what they are still discussing. After all, we have already verified with several villagers that our assumptions are correct. We know that Murbil did not leave willingly. We know that her family was put through unknown terror at the hands of vile people. We assume that Gnaabak is among the filth as he is nowhere to be found within Wolfwater. I have single, double, triple checked his absence; it is as though he never existed in the first place.
The entire village is giving me the creeps. I am completely out of my element here. I feel uneasy, particularly as the other deliberate. They are examining a pendant. It is beautiful, sure, but I fail to comprehend the significance. The “intellectuals”, as I’ve been calling them in my head, are fixated upon its runes and symbols, claiming it has an aura of some sort that connects it to some cult. I don’t buy it, but I nod my head and pretend to understand. I’m sure that our answer does not lie in this pendant. Frankly, if we are pursuing Murbil and her family, I believe that it is more important to look for physical evidence than to fixate on something obscure. But, the intellectuals pay me no mind. It feels as though I am like Gnaabak in this instance: nonexistent.
I decide that I’m going to explore the physical elements more. It is light out now. It is the perfect time to look for trails that may have been masked by the nightfall. I don’t believe that the intellectuals even noticed when I left. While the evidence from the night prior is still present, I set my sights on figuring the direction that the trails pointed to. I begin to walk the perimeter of the cottage, scanning the ground for clues.
I walk past an unknown man, but I think nothing of the encounter. I do not begin to worry until he reaches for my arm. I let out a small yelp in surprise, jumping back away from him. He is an orc. He is old and weathered and beaten, but he is an orc nonetheless. His eyes are striking, piercing right through me. I am taken aback. He looks like a mad man, in a way. He grabs at my arm again, but I yank my arm back viciously this time.
“What do you want?” I ask him, trying my best to sound menacing.
“’Tis the Harvest,” he mutters out. I pause for a moment, processing these words. He continues, “sowing the new crop. The night with three moons in the sky and darkness below. If you know what is good for you, be gone before it comes for you too.”
Suddenly, my tone changes. My hostility vanishes almost instantly. “You’re… here to help, aren’t you?”
I begin to step towards him, realizing his true role. Suddenly, Teagan comes bumbling down the path, seemingly with all of his might. He is not one of the intellectuals. He yells for the orc to leave me alone, quickly grabbing the man by the scruff of his neck. He has acted before I can even comprehend what he is doing.
“Teagen,” I say, taking a slight pause. He turns to face me, still holding the orc up. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m keeping you safe,” he says softly. “Besides! We can get more information from him!”
I shake my head, resisting the urge to slap him in this moment. “Put him down, Teagen.”
But, it is of no use. The orc is horrified. I am resigned to finding a new lead. I walk Teagen back to the cottage to regroup with the others. Teagen attempts conversation, but I do not say a word. He is nothing but a mere barbarian, I think to myself. I explain to the others what has occurred, and they believe that my information is what connects the pieces of the puzzle. None of the intellectuals scold the barbarian. I am upset by this and want to leave yet again. This adventure will be rough, I think to myself. I sit down and listen to their discussion, again not contributing much despite my discovery, and they agree that the magic they sense must be coming from the west.
I suggest we head toward the west if they are so sure of the magic presence, but the intellectuals are hesitant. Perhaps I am right in thinking it sounds contrived. The group is worried of what might b in the west, so I grab my bow and offer to scope out the general direction. The intellectuals are happy with this arrangement. I head out into the fresh air yet again and begin heading along the western trail, but it does not take long to make a nauseating discovery. Shortly up the trail, there are traces of blood. It is crimson in the dirt, a painful reminder of what must have occurred here. There is so much more than I want to see, and I think for a moment of what must have caused this bloodshed. I am horrified by my own thoughts. I return to the cottage and gather my belongings. The others are confused, but I do not hesitate in my packing.
“I’m going to wait with the wagon. We are leaving at dusk and we are heading west. That’s the direction where Murbil and her family were taken.”
No one questions my authority, despite the fact I am not an intellectual. I head out and set up the old wagon, placing my belongings on the ground as I sit and wait for my party to join me.
The entire village is giving me the creeps. I am completely out of my element here. I feel uneasy, particularly as the other deliberate. They are examining a pendant. It is beautiful, sure, but I fail to comprehend the significance. The “intellectuals”, as I’ve been calling them in my head, are fixated upon its runes and symbols, claiming it has an aura of some sort that connects it to some cult. I don’t buy it, but I nod my head and pretend to understand. I’m sure that our answer does not lie in this pendant. Frankly, if we are pursuing Murbil and her family, I believe that it is more important to look for physical evidence than to fixate on something obscure. But, the intellectuals pay me no mind. It feels as though I am like Gnaabak in this instance: nonexistent.
I decide that I’m going to explore the physical elements more. It is light out now. It is the perfect time to look for trails that may have been masked by the nightfall. I don’t believe that the intellectuals even noticed when I left. While the evidence from the night prior is still present, I set my sights on figuring the direction that the trails pointed to. I begin to walk the perimeter of the cottage, scanning the ground for clues.
I walk past an unknown man, but I think nothing of the encounter. I do not begin to worry until he reaches for my arm. I let out a small yelp in surprise, jumping back away from him. He is an orc. He is old and weathered and beaten, but he is an orc nonetheless. His eyes are striking, piercing right through me. I am taken aback. He looks like a mad man, in a way. He grabs at my arm again, but I yank my arm back viciously this time.
“What do you want?” I ask him, trying my best to sound menacing.
“’Tis the Harvest,” he mutters out. I pause for a moment, processing these words. He continues, “sowing the new crop. The night with three moons in the sky and darkness below. If you know what is good for you, be gone before it comes for you too.”
Suddenly, my tone changes. My hostility vanishes almost instantly. “You’re… here to help, aren’t you?”
I begin to step towards him, realizing his true role. Suddenly, Teagan comes bumbling down the path, seemingly with all of his might. He is not one of the intellectuals. He yells for the orc to leave me alone, quickly grabbing the man by the scruff of his neck. He has acted before I can even comprehend what he is doing.
“Teagen,” I say, taking a slight pause. He turns to face me, still holding the orc up. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m keeping you safe,” he says softly. “Besides! We can get more information from him!”
I shake my head, resisting the urge to slap him in this moment. “Put him down, Teagen.”
But, it is of no use. The orc is horrified. I am resigned to finding a new lead. I walk Teagen back to the cottage to regroup with the others. Teagen attempts conversation, but I do not say a word. He is nothing but a mere barbarian, I think to myself. I explain to the others what has occurred, and they believe that my information is what connects the pieces of the puzzle. None of the intellectuals scold the barbarian. I am upset by this and want to leave yet again. This adventure will be rough, I think to myself. I sit down and listen to their discussion, again not contributing much despite my discovery, and they agree that the magic they sense must be coming from the west.
I suggest we head toward the west if they are so sure of the magic presence, but the intellectuals are hesitant. Perhaps I am right in thinking it sounds contrived. The group is worried of what might b in the west, so I grab my bow and offer to scope out the general direction. The intellectuals are happy with this arrangement. I head out into the fresh air yet again and begin heading along the western trail, but it does not take long to make a nauseating discovery. Shortly up the trail, there are traces of blood. It is crimson in the dirt, a painful reminder of what must have occurred here. There is so much more than I want to see, and I think for a moment of what must have caused this bloodshed. I am horrified by my own thoughts. I return to the cottage and gather my belongings. The others are confused, but I do not hesitate in my packing.
“I’m going to wait with the wagon. We are leaving at dusk and we are heading west. That’s the direction where Murbil and her family were taken.”
No one questions my authority, despite the fact I am not an intellectual. I head out and set up the old wagon, placing my belongings on the ground as I sit and wait for my party to join me.
Spoiler
https://i.imgur.com/sqgttKh.jpg
