Roleplay. the writing game.

This is indeed a really nice thread. Thank you guys

A small, normal pot rested in the center of a small, quiet room. The bodies outside coated the ground, bloodstains smeared about. The corpses were hollows; most of them anyway. But among the carnage could the bodies of other undead be seen, though their features obscured by coverings that prevented their identification. This pot sat, amongst the rubble, the crushed and splintered wood, the shattered stones, the lifeless bodies. The wind blew through the building, sweeping the loose, light fragments around, but the pot did not budge. A sound swept through the area; a light, wispy one.

Another had come; a glowing red spirit approached the pot, but it did not attack. It hesitated a moment, for whatever reason, and turned it's head. Perhaps it had heard something from outside the small room it had entered, or maybe thought it had seen a hint of movement. It mattered not; a shrill, mad yell erupted in the room as the pot shattered, and a man burst forth from it. Before it could react, he'd plunged his blade into the phantom. It was silent at first as it bent down in defeat, but as it collapsed, a soft, painful moan could be heard from it. The body of it seemed to turn a more natural, human color as it collapsed to the ground, vanishing soon after and leaving nothing but a large, crimson pool of blood.

The face of the Man twitched. He bent down, laying on the ground almost as if he were submitting to the spirit as he placed his tongue on the cold stone floor, dragging it across the crimson pool that remained. The blood tasted, altered by the humanity. His hands scraped and gathered the blood, pooling it and pouring it into his mouth, splattering against his already bloodsoaked shirt. His pants were similarly stained, though mainly at their cuffs, for he took care to let little of his prize spill. After a bit, he looked back down, the red pool having grown to a stain upon the ground. His tongue snaked out of his mouth and ran across his lips, collecting the remains as he breathed deeply.

He brought out his staff, one passed down through his once noble family for ages, and cast upon himself another spell of chameleon, and the pot he had formerly been returned. It was a spell known to a very select few, having been that of an old, lost kingdom, but a sacred art passed through his family, even during their decent from nobility. But now only he remained. He had to survive. He needed the blood. The humanity-tainted blood, both of those he'd made victims or those who'd sought him out. While it may not have been correct, he believed that it kept him from going hollow, despite the effect that his actions and the events he'd been through having already eroded his mind. He felt at time like he'd rather be done and go hollow. But then he remembered he had to carry on his legacy. Something that mattered only to him. And he would do whatever it took... and so he sat there. Waiting. Sometimes this waiting could take under an hour, and other times nearly a week. But he had faith; as long as he resolved himself to the blood, and refused to give up on it, his mind would not leave him either. The one thing he feared.

The pot turned, and faced again the doorway into the room. And so it waited again.

Eyes gazing through the hole at the ceiling towards the blue sky. Insignificant... he ponders to himself. From where these words came from he could not remember.

As the growls of the undead echoed through the dark hallways of his prison, he drifted in and out of consciousness. Insignificant...

He was snapped back into consciousness when his acute senses picked up a presence. As he turned his head skyward something dropped in front of him; keys. He stared at them blankly as he tried to perceive what he just saw. He swore he had seen it somewhere before; that mark.

Something budged inside of him as if he knew what he has to do.

As he picked himself up from the floor, tears started running down his face. There on the puddle of musty water on the ground he saw his reflection. His heart sunk as he stared at what he has become; undead. Insignificant...

He battled his way out of the dungeon. He did not want to be there. Scavenging for whatever he can use. Where he is to go he doesn't know.

As he set foot at the edge of the cliff and realizing there is nowhere else to go, he collapsed. Tired and weary he laughed at his misfortune. Insignificant... he thought as he drifted into a deep sleep.

Bump I love this thread!

The sun was shining its glory,the air was flowing wildly as two entities fought each other with fierce power
one seemed to be somewhat of a ghost or a phantom as some people would say and the other was a human,a powerful one at that!

the human held a greatsword on his right shoulder and a bloodshield on his left arm

the phanton had a katana with light coming out of it almost like he enchanted it or something

"whats wrong phanty tired already?"
said the human with an evil grin

the phanton did not respond in any way he just dashed foward ad the human with his katana in hand


the human quickly saw the phanton swing his blade and blocked it with his shield however the human seemed to be bored so he ended the fight with leg sweep with his greatsword and a downward slash smashing the sword into the ground and into the phanton's stomach

"what are...you"
the phanton said while disapearing

"still alive? hm well i guess you deserve to know"

"my name is Scudman the Dark harbinger...do not forget my name"

the phanton disappeared in ashes as the man quickly placed his sword on his back

"well another fight today"
"is it just me or are my opponents getting weaker and weaker?"
"these phantoms are all weaklings...hmm i want to find someone worth fighting"
"now where would a good place to start be?"

"hmm well i don't know of any place" *sighs* "well i guess i should just keep wandering until i find someone huh?"

He said before settling up and continuint his journey...to god knows where





im a horrible RPier i always were i can't put much detail in my stories :/

anyway next chapter coming soon!

oh and i always include myself or i include an "easter egg" of sorts in my stories so yeah

Is it the type of easter egg you find over your neck?

This is a great thread. I have been away for a bit, so just now rediscovering the new forum format. I would love to contribute some as well.

By the will of Caesar, this thread will have life!

Off in the the distance, a knight jumps into a well.

Little do you know, he did not jump, but was pushed!

Though, I did see a ghost of a player jump into the well before (true story)

I did that once.

My lantern found this in the depths of the Catacombs... People might appreciate this ressurection of a thread, if anyone wants to give this some flesh other than just bones.

This Necrobump is sickening.

4 months? Jeezus.

It's probably a skeletal beast

Did someone summon a Necromancer?

I already brought it up grind, leave me to my work!

I'll go back to taking pictures of everything in Dark Souls then.

Good boy

This one time at souls camp the forest hunter meanies kicked me off a cliff Sparta style.

Spoiler:

Now I beat the crap out of forest hunter meanies with broken swords with out breaking a sweat.