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
@Jendowoz0612 Sooo sorry for the delay! Just busy as hell and got distracted! Still have what we discussed in PM, will send it all in the morning since I popped on the PC just to send this. Just busy love, but tomorrow is the weekend so I'm gonna knock out stuff for next week and hopefully be less stressed next week. Also, @Movotti hope you don't mind my recreation and usage of Seth lol
Spoiler
https://i.imgur.com/R8oXVKX.jpg
Spoiler
I am still upset with the Barbarian. Rather, I am still livid. But, now is Teagan’s chance to make things up to me. I do not wish to pull the wagon. While it is our best mode of transport for our belongings, it is heavy and bulky, and I don’t want to be bothered with lugging it along. I give him the task, and he happily obliges. I feel like I have the upper hand, if only for a moment. I also feel like I am among the intellectuals, again, if only for a moment. They are allowing me to lead the pack. I feel important.
I do not feel important for very long. Eventually, the path we are traveling along is too worn to pull our wagon through. We are forced to abandon it. I grab my belongings, but I continue to lead the pack. I notice that the foliage has changed in this neck of the woods. I begin to pay more attention to our surroundings as we walk. There are strange marks in the path and equally strange droppings lining it. I believe that these belong to something canine, though I cannot pinpoint what. I do not wish to make a fool of myself, so I remain silent for now, calculating the possibilities in my head as I half pay attention to the others.
I only catch snippets of their conversation as we walk, but I pause when their words stand out. The intellectuals are having a lengthy debate about cultists. They say we should prepare for an attack from them. They say these cultists are our enemy. I do not believe that cultists leave animal droppings, however. I also do not believe that cultists are related to canines in the slightest. Still, the intellectuals insist that this is the case. I am hesitant to speak up, but the Cleric insists we are to prepare for this attack. This is when I put my foot down.
“There are no cultists,” I say softly. None of the intellectuals pay me any mind. I repeat myself, speaking louder this time. There is a silence for a moment, but then their conversation continues. I stop in my tracks and I continue. “Listen, I don’t understand this magic or whatever, but there’s clear signs of canine-like creatures. If you’re going to plan, plan for what we have proof for.”
This grabs the attention of the intellectuals. They ask for my proof, and I show them the subtle signs. We are in agreement that there is a canine threat, but they are still insisting on planning for cultists. I believe that what we are looking for are related to wolves, and I begin to explain how to handle a wolf attack to the group. They are more focused on their weapons and their magic than they are wolves. That is okay. I still feel important. The Barbarian is not a part of our planning. He grew far too impatient with us, and I feel even more important for this. The Mage, fearing an attack will be soon, begins to enchant the different weapons in our party’s possession. But, he is too late.
We all hear a shriek from the forest and the crack of a tree. We all pause, stunned into silence as we try to figure out what this sound could have been. Suddenly, these huge, hideous beasts come running from the forest. There are only a handful of them, but they are unlike any wolves I have ever seen before. They look like normal wolves, yes, but they are large and menacing. Their teeth look as though they can tear through our flesh in seconds, and they are snarling madly as they charge. One of the creatures lunges for the Mage as he is the closest, unarmed target. The Barbarian is following these creatures, and it is clear what has happened. The fool has gotten us into trouble yet again. The others spring into action almost immediately.
“They are wolves!” I yell out. “Stare them down! Intimidate them!”
But it is of no use. The others spring to fight. The intellectuals are busy fighting, so I try to act quickly. I grab the Mage and drag him to a nearby clearing. I drop him on the ground and prepare to defend him with longbow, but I realize almost immediately that I have lost my quiver in the chaos that had begun. I am left holding my bow, utterly useless, guarding the wounded Mage as best I can. I do not take my eyes off of the wolves. I am sure of my plan in this moment. I believe that, in the worst-case scenario, I will take them on with my bare hands. I am of no use to the intellectuals without my weapon. I cannot control the battle on my own. However, I can control if the Mage lives or not. I dedicate myself to protecting him, watching the wolves as they dart through the forest and providing medical assistance when the coast is clear.
I am not sure how the other party members will fare. But, I know that the Mage will not die in my hands. I am determined to save him. It is all I can control. And, I manage to save him. I am surprised, but I do not complain. I do not say much, quietly providing the medical assistance he desperately needs. And, somehow, our party wins against the wolves. Again, I am surprised, but I do not complain about this unexpected victory.
I do not feel important for very long. Eventually, the path we are traveling along is too worn to pull our wagon through. We are forced to abandon it. I grab my belongings, but I continue to lead the pack. I notice that the foliage has changed in this neck of the woods. I begin to pay more attention to our surroundings as we walk. There are strange marks in the path and equally strange droppings lining it. I believe that these belong to something canine, though I cannot pinpoint what. I do not wish to make a fool of myself, so I remain silent for now, calculating the possibilities in my head as I half pay attention to the others.
I only catch snippets of their conversation as we walk, but I pause when their words stand out. The intellectuals are having a lengthy debate about cultists. They say we should prepare for an attack from them. They say these cultists are our enemy. I do not believe that cultists leave animal droppings, however. I also do not believe that cultists are related to canines in the slightest. Still, the intellectuals insist that this is the case. I am hesitant to speak up, but the Cleric insists we are to prepare for this attack. This is when I put my foot down.
“There are no cultists,” I say softly. None of the intellectuals pay me any mind. I repeat myself, speaking louder this time. There is a silence for a moment, but then their conversation continues. I stop in my tracks and I continue. “Listen, I don’t understand this magic or whatever, but there’s clear signs of canine-like creatures. If you’re going to plan, plan for what we have proof for.”
This grabs the attention of the intellectuals. They ask for my proof, and I show them the subtle signs. We are in agreement that there is a canine threat, but they are still insisting on planning for cultists. I believe that what we are looking for are related to wolves, and I begin to explain how to handle a wolf attack to the group. They are more focused on their weapons and their magic than they are wolves. That is okay. I still feel important. The Barbarian is not a part of our planning. He grew far too impatient with us, and I feel even more important for this. The Mage, fearing an attack will be soon, begins to enchant the different weapons in our party’s possession. But, he is too late.
We all hear a shriek from the forest and the crack of a tree. We all pause, stunned into silence as we try to figure out what this sound could have been. Suddenly, these huge, hideous beasts come running from the forest. There are only a handful of them, but they are unlike any wolves I have ever seen before. They look like normal wolves, yes, but they are large and menacing. Their teeth look as though they can tear through our flesh in seconds, and they are snarling madly as they charge. One of the creatures lunges for the Mage as he is the closest, unarmed target. The Barbarian is following these creatures, and it is clear what has happened. The fool has gotten us into trouble yet again. The others spring into action almost immediately.
“They are wolves!” I yell out. “Stare them down! Intimidate them!”
But it is of no use. The others spring to fight. The intellectuals are busy fighting, so I try to act quickly. I grab the Mage and drag him to a nearby clearing. I drop him on the ground and prepare to defend him with longbow, but I realize almost immediately that I have lost my quiver in the chaos that had begun. I am left holding my bow, utterly useless, guarding the wounded Mage as best I can. I do not take my eyes off of the wolves. I am sure of my plan in this moment. I believe that, in the worst-case scenario, I will take them on with my bare hands. I am of no use to the intellectuals without my weapon. I cannot control the battle on my own. However, I can control if the Mage lives or not. I dedicate myself to protecting him, watching the wolves as they dart through the forest and providing medical assistance when the coast is clear.
I am not sure how the other party members will fare. But, I know that the Mage will not die in my hands. I am determined to save him. It is all I can control. And, I manage to save him. I am surprised, but I do not complain. I do not say much, quietly providing the medical assistance he desperately needs. And, somehow, our party wins against the wolves. Again, I am surprised, but I do not complain about this unexpected victory.
