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World Creation Superdraft 5: May 2021

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"At last we found it, the Lair of Heroes!" Shayd smiled triumphantly, the human woman grinned merrily, causing the old scar near her otherwise lovely lips to stretch a bit further still. She was game for anything, a swordswoman and an adventurer who had faced many challenged.


"Lair of Heroes? Hhmm, we of the Orck call it the Halls of the Brave," Drega, Daughter of Bu-ba, great tribble hunter, prepared her own curved weapon, "But yes, at last we found it! It will be glorious to find the treasures within!"


"I think our guide found it,' the  Raakastah mystic Growf pointed out with amusement.


"You are not going in?" the Charr-Lotti guide chitered, "I was told to show it to you, I did not think you would be so foolish. It is said to be sacred to the mother of night herself. Only the bravest are supposed to enter.. much danger."


Wink appeared,   the Quantim's grin manifesting first , "Oh but we are, don't worry, I'll take over the scouting once inside," Curiosity burned inside the fellow.

Their eight legged guide said "Go, if you be heroes, and claim what courage brings. I will wait here for those of you that do not meet the mark of hero."

Drega snarled, "Are you saying we are NOT brave enough?"


the little arachnid trembled, eliciting her disgust. With a spit to the side, she turned to enter in. 
Wink appeared before her, "Hold it, I'm the scout and finder of traps, I go first." And in the party went. They were adventurers, they were heroes.

And the guide who led them there gave a breath of a sigh and let them go.

It was dark within, but they'd prepared for that. With lights both natural and magical. It was magnificent.. tapestries of the finest weave, statues of the most iconic style, reliefs in the very walls; all of them of the same thing, of heroes! In dramatic poses , almost melodramatic really. Flexing their mighty sinews, showing a fearlessness.

Except in the eyes.


There were traps, of course, and odd creatures in the shadows. Terrifying actually. They were wounded, and cut...Drega fought seeking glory! Shayd had her back and laughed as if Mirth's death would be welcome. Growf's magic flames could be used for more than illumination, and Wink vanished, returned, and struck at their foes. But it was Shayd who felt was the bravest of all.


The heroes were victorious in this first great chamber, and Shayd admitted "Okay that was KIND of scary but I'm ready to on if you..." And she vanished!
"Shayd?" Drega gasped, then snarled "How did she just vanish?"


There, near a statue of a great Orck warrior of the past, was a tapestry that had not been there before. It was a work of art depicting a courageous warrior woman with a smile, a sword, and a scar - Shayd! She was as they last saw her, but unwounded, larger than life!


Doors behind them had vanished. 


"I think," Growf observed senses a tingle, "This is her, actually her. Oooo neat trick."
"Is it wrong to say yipes?" Wink swallowed.

Drega snarled at them both "We will not be afraid, we will find who has done this and MAKE them undo it. Some evil wizard has to be behind this. Well, wizards bleed!"

"Clearly," Growf said looking at the wound he himself had picked up in the fight before this, "But our passage back just closed."

Wink had opened up a door to a hallway that was not there before, and looked,  as choppers and swinging blades whirled back and  forth, "Well, I'll be fine, pretty sure you two are screwed."


"DISARM IT!" Drega bellowed.


Even this hallway with its traps seemed to have it's treasures. Gemstones of great worth spaced out like tile.


Wink vanished, appearinng in the hall and moved forward, and vanished again.. dodging blades, looking for the mechanism until he found it, "I can mess with the odd workings here, but I'll have to time my blinks perfectly to avoid the blades." His eyes lit up with concern.

"Well? What do we have you around for?" Drega snapped.

"Witty banter?" Wink joked, but to work he went. One second there, the next back again, each time another wire moved, another gear exposed, until- CLICK! WWhirr.. 


"You did it, Wink!" Growf yelled, "Wow! That was close!"

"I almost chickened out," Wink admitted, then held a thumb up ..and once more, vanished, but this wasn't with the usual dazzle and flash. he was just...gone.
Drega howled and raced down the now safe hall, Growf on her tail.


The painting was of Wink, jaunty rogue with thumb upraised with one hand, loose wires in the other, the very image of a guile hero having his moment!

"Oh" Growf whispered as he stared, "I think I understand now...Oh, that's funny.. and scary. ... but "  A breath "We best grab the tapestry and this painting. I'm not leaving without my friends."


"Leaving? We can't LEAVE? GLORY, HONOR!" Drega declared.


But Growf was gone!

There on a wall, was Growf, or rather, a mural showing the Rakasta looking stead fast and serene. Below him, words painted forever preserving his last phrase

"I'm not leaving without my friends."

And Drega screamed, backpeddling, swinging her weapon at empty shadows, "Come out, whoever you are, evil wizard, dark priest, come OUT! And fight me!"


And a voice echoed in the Lair of heroes, the Halls of the Brave, the place with so many names. Not to her ears, but inside her mind


"What? how are you in my head?" She saw nothing, nothing but the halls and its treasures which now included her allies.


Because you are in me. But I do not want you here. I only collect the bravest. Some gather too much courage in this world. They become a terrible danger to themselves , and others. It was, I suspect, meant as way to dishonor mother. But she loves people even when they don't deserve it, wants to protect them. That's why she made me. To take the fearless and keep them save for all time. To gather the courageous who would lead others astray and remove them from corrupting the impressionable.  


"Who, what ARE you?" She looked around, the term 'in me' causing realization.


You already have a name for me, every people, every nation, has a name for me. I am a person, a place, and a thing, though I can move I do so rarely. Stories of me go, and like bees to honey, the heroes come so I can save them from themselves and let them rest in honor. But if you wish to keep it informal, Call me, Dungeon! 

Passages opened up, a clear path, up and out an obvious exit.
Go, Dungeon said, it was not a request.


"I'm not afraid of you!" She snarled, but she could feel what courage she had literally leeching out of her.


I never said you were. But you are here BECAUSE you're scared! Scared not of death, not of me, but of being seen AS a coward. You are afraid of being afraid! And unwilling to face it! Do not worry... I will make you honest, but you have no place here.


Drega's hands began to shake, she could no longer hold onto her weapon.. Suddenly the darkness was looming in. Were there more monsters? She.. it was not that her fear of being seen as a coward was less. It was that other fears she had not had before were worming into her .Her courage was gone entirely.


RUN! Dungeon boomed in her coward heart, in her craven soul, RUN and live! YOU HAVE NO PLACE AMONG HEROES!

And Drega ran..
the old guide took her back to a town, white haired and shaking. Many decades later, if you went to the right tavern, you might ask an old orck named Drega timidly serving drinks while others tell tales of a hall of the brave, or Lair of heroes. Unlike those story tellers, she knows the truth about Dungeon. But you won't get the story out of her. She's too afraid to tell it.



Monster Guardian Pick: The Dungeon, A living labyrinth which calls to the bravest heroes.. and keeps them safe, forever.






Dungeon keeps those with the highest courage scores 'safe' by transforming them into objects d' art and holding onto them. Those who don't cut the muster, well, they find themselves paying the entry and exit fee in the form of their courage.


Of course, if one had access to wishes, one might free a hero or two but where you gonna find those? It is said tribute might be paid to the goddess of fear to ask her to have her monster release a hero. Surely that would work. But most heroes in Dungeon? they're safe.. for eternity.


A hero's reward

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E'il presented this beautiful, broad world of infinite ocean, and an idea comes to Theer. Once again, she plays her favorite game, What if...? She thought briefly of Vaiyarran and laughed. With a wave of her hand, it began...


Theer, Goddess of chaOS, presents her interference selection: The Ice Age


What if the oceans were to freeze over? An infinite expanse of ice and snow. Slowly at first, but how long would it last? Would the various races adapt and thrive or would they be overwhelmed? Some spots of water would remain, if only for contrast. Just as some ice would never disappear. 




This, too, shall pass.

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56 minutes ago, L. Marcus said:

The Trickster's Interference Pick: every man Jack and lady Jane among the Orcks have fur allergies. 


Fortunately, Jack and Jane were rare names among the orcks...


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23 hours ago, Sociotard said:

Interference: Attributes are diegetic, and they are currency.


EDIT: as for Folly, Gold is its own currency. No attribute needed here. There are rituals to store attributes on gold objects.


My inspiration:

In Time - Opening Scene (HD) - YouTube

This would seem to permit novel and disturbing forms of taxation and robbery.


I thought of Interfering with this to permit trade in years of life, but I am not yet sure tat Folly would think of that. But Folly might not turn out to be the most destructive god here, after all. I shall have to up my game.


Dean Shomshak

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On 5/11/2021 at 10:16 AM, csyphrett said:

Gift to Civilization: Karma. You put the work in, you get rewarded. You do something bad, you get punished.



Karma? Knowing that you actually deserve the suffering in your life? That your fortunate neighbor really is better than you? Oh, no, that’ll make people miserable.


Karma’s complicated, too. Life would be so much easier if people merely had to follow some simple, definite rule about some simple, definite activity such as what they eat or how they dress. Follow the rule, and you’re a good person. Or at least you think you are, and isn’t that what matters?


The Abrizons of Spim will not eat tribble on Fleenday. They believe Lhash’ka forbade it. (She didn’t.) The Buntins won’t eat dird at all, considering it defiled meat and a mortal sin to consume. The Middiks, on the other hand, believe one must eat dird every day. The fairies of Tropheria will not wear blue. The Quantim of Znitz always wear blue. Among the people of Mur’kl’ti’ga, all names must include at least one apostrophe, and it is death for a woman to show her left elbow to an man but her husband. A visitor to Fnee must wear a fish on his head for a week to prove he is not a demon.


And the chaos of luck isn’t any better. Things just happen? That your life is the plaything of chance? That’ll make people miserable, too.


I won’t allow it. It’s kinder to let them make up their own explanations. I’m sure they’ll be happier. Especially when their suffering happens because they did something stupid. And fear! Mortals have so much to fear that’s beyond their control. Let them have the illusion that there are reasons for their lives, reasons they might have some power to control.




Godrig was startled when the golden retreagle barked at him from the tree. It stuck in his mind. A week later, when he left his hearth unattended and his hut burned down, he remembered the golden retreagle. It was an omen! Godrig told everyone in his village to be wary when a golden retreagle barks. It portends disaster! Many people remembered other cases when they saw or heard golden retreagles before something bad happened. Soon, most people were convinced. From then on, the people of the village feared the evil omen of the golden retreagle. But they knew what to do. Catch the dird and burn it! Surely the sacrifice to Vaiyarran would burn away the ill luck!


The people of Nng wept and cried to E’il after three storms struck their island in close succession. What sin had they committed? What taboo had they broken? Then someone remembered the Eech on the shore. The huge, talking rock was of E’il. They beseeched it to intercede with its maker, to avert the storms. “How?” it asked. “I have no power over storms. I haven’t seen E’il since the god made me.” The Nngese were angry in their disappointment. One man said, “Perhaps it will not intercede because it called the storms! It does not suffer; it laughs as our boats are wrecked and our homes fall!” And many answered, “Yes, it is the Eech that brought the storms, the Eech is our enemy!” And so they expended great effort building rafts and ropes to drag the Eech off the shore and dump it out at sea. That meant the tribbles bred out of control, leaving the island nearly barren, but the Nngese rejoiced at their triumph.


Chewing strumweed cures blue fever. But the people of Jidrilezza refuse this gift of Mirth, no matter how many of them die. They saw their enemies the Orcks using strumweed for this purpose, and so do not believe it will help them. Indeed, some say that chewing strumweed might turn you into an Orck!


The people of Obrox believe that Quantim are demons. They festoon their homes with charms to prevent Quantim from entering to work evil upon them. No one on Obrox has seen a Quantim in generations, which they take as proof the charms are working.


The people of Pung He, on the other hand, think the Seaborn are witches and kill any of them they can catch. Any curse, they believe, can be lifted by eating the heart of a Seaborn.


The Orcks of Krung are determined and mighty hunters of tribbles and other prey. They attribute much of their prowess to the charms they make from the feathers of three rare dirds. Hunters who lose their charms are cast out and cannot return until they manage to slay the requisite dirds and make new ones: They would jinx the hunts otherwise.


The people of Kimble Kimble Kimble know how to identify a murderer, a thief or a witch. Each suspect carries a bit of snork meat. The witch-doctor carries a sacred dird from suspect to suspect: The dird snatches the meat from the guilty, who is slain at once before he can utter a curse. If it later turns out the dird was wrong, it means a sorcerer must have cast a spell to deceive it! Set up another lineup and bring out the dird…


And so on, across the countless islands. Humans, as Folly’s creatures, are most prone to fear witches and demons of their own imagining, to seek omens of good or bad luck in waves, clouds or the flight of butterflies, to believe they are cursed and must do something ridiculous to remove it, to wear or not wear something, to eat some foods and refuse others. But no one is completely immune — except maybe the Eech, who have very little to fear and very little choice in their stony lives.


Secondary Domain: Superstition and Taboo.





And for the people cunning enough to recognize Folly’s work, it makes a great scam. Witch-finders and self-proclaimed sorcerers easily buy up their Attributes from the gullible. At least until someone thinks they are the witch or warlock causing the problem.



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Incidentally, are the pictures I attach showing up on screen? The last few times I've done this, my screen shows there's an attachment but the pic itself doesn't appear. I don't think I'm doing anything different than before.


EDIT: I tried again using a .JPEG instead, and that shows on screen. Odd, but I'll take it. And here's a repost of Rovan Margay, catman warrior.


Dean Shomshak

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6 hours ago, Cancer said:

I'm way behind.


Are you in a bind?


Are you willing to make a deal?


Asking for a friend.


Yours Truly,


The Devil






-----------/ Line between two totally unrelated posts that shouldn't have been merged /-------------------------------



5 hours ago, DShomshak said:

The extinct Middiks, on the other hand, believed one must eat dird every day


The Goddess of Death has fixed thine post.

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I don't know if this runs afoul of Mirth's domain of Death.


Geography: the Ancestral Halls


Death erases no debt, and the grave is no bar to obligation.


And so, there is an afterlife. 


Indeed, there are many afterlives. Different civilizations have different ideas of paradise. People make sacrifices and offerings to the ones they like, building themselves up mansions in heaven. After Mirth has her way with them, they call in that debt. If they've offered little, they may find themselves lost souls, struggling to perform service to earn their way in. Of course, the Ancestral Halls sometimes choose to rain blessings on their devout. That's where the service of the lost souls comes in. Beg your preferred ancestral hall to improve your crop, get lost souls weeding your fields.


They say that if you go to the glaciers, you can see in the aurorae the celebrations of the ancestral halls, drinking and dancing and dueling.

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9 hours ago, Cancer said:

I'm way behind.  Been a rough week month well, whatever.  Will try to catch up this weekend.


What the professor said.


Honestly, it'll be a lot easier once the updates are posted and I can see what's still available.

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3 hours ago, Sociotard said:

I don't know if this runs afoul of Mirth's domain of Death.


3 hours ago, Sociotard said:

They say that if you go to the glaciers, you can see in the aurorae the celebrations of the ancestral halls, laughing and drinking and dancing and dueling.


Mirth now approves. 😁

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I was expecting Writing, so the wise could record their life experiences for those who come after.


I'd thought of making writing be Folly's Gift, working along his Instant Gratification theme. Fools think they can gain wisdom from books -- but because a fool, a liar or a madman can write as easily as a wise and honest person, you can only get Wisdom from books if you have it already. But I decided that wasn't destructive enough to be the God of Stupidity's handiwork, so I went with Bureaucracy.


Dean Shomshak

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Minor fix, Tribble: Gambling is Theer's gift to civilization, not a secondary domain. 


That leaves me with a last domain and mythic monster/guardian. And I believe I'm two behind so I should be able to fill those out this weekend. 

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