The Nexus

[MenaAthena]

“Do you think it’ll get worse?”

“I hope not.”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, it's going to get worse.

Edited May 4, 2015 by MenaAthena

[wxps350]

SCORNERS

 

Shadows are indeed a real, and terrifying entity in all worlds. They prey on all those who experience powerful negative emotions, one of the strongest of which are Scorners. They prefer those who have regrets and unclear minds, such as unconvicted criminals and liars. When they find them, they will begin demoralizing them, at first taunting them about their demons, yet over time will become overly violent, often shrieking at their hosts. They cannot be seen by anyone but their hosts, normally, and will create emotional turmoil in them, until they are deemed "Insane", which will create more despair for the Scorner to feed off of. Unless exorcisms are performed, the scorner will haunt their victims until death, in which it will abandon it's host in search of a new emotionally unstable victim. Their only known weaknesses are the wrath of the divine, and their inability to abandon hosts at will. 

 

 

 

 

 

Edited April 29, 2015 by wxps350

[CloakofCrow]

Part III

 

     Jonathan squinted his eyes at something in the distance,“What’s that?”

 

     His brother positioned the light to see what he was talking about, fear struck his face.

 

     “Jonathan, go get father!”

     “What is it?” Jonathan hesitated.

     “I said go! Hurry!”

 

     Jonathan stared at his brother with confusion in his eyes and realized he was being serious. He flew down the spiraling stairs as nimbly as he could, slipping half-way down and quickly getting back up. He sprinted through the muddy streets, ignoring the strange men as he blindly made his way to the bar where his father was working. A bell began clanging in the lighthouse moments before cannon shots boomed in the distant ocean. People groggily lumbered out their doors to see what was going on. Jonathan pushed through their bodies, running into his father right outside the bar. Out of breath, he spoke frantically.

   

     “A-ah-Alan, brother!”

 

     His father lifted him up with ease, a calm look on his face. He brought Jonathan to their house,

     “Get mother and go to the storm shelter, we’ll meet you there eventually. Quick!”

 

 

Edited April 30, 2015 by CloakofCrow

[CloakofCrow]

Part IV

     His father ran towards the lighthouse and another volley of cannon fire went off. He could hear the shots splash into the water outside the wall. Jonathan dashed inside and grabbed his mother, “Daddy wants us to go to the shelter! He’s getting brother!” His mother nodded and grasped his hand, hustling out the door and guiding him towards the shelter.

 

     Screams and cries began upon the third round of cannon fire. The walls around the north side of the Fort exploded violently, sending bricks and various other shrapnel careening in all different directions. His mother maneuvered him through the panicked streets to the storm shelter, which was rapidly getting crowded. Another round of cannon fire, houses and shops burst into flame. They squeezed into the shelter and the bell halted its desperate clamoring. Another boom, the lighthouse was stricken. Jonathan ripped his hand free from his mother’s tight grip and bolted between everyone’s legs towards the lighthouse. His mother tried to run after him, but a flood of distressed people impeded her passage.

 

Edited May 1, 2015 by CloakofCrow

[CloakofCrow]

Part V

 

     He arrived at the lighthouse and saw his father struggling to drag his brother away, his legs were mangled and he was bleeding profusely. Jonathan ran to his father’s aid and propped up his brother with his shoulder. More cannons, they crashed into the lighthouse again sending it crashing into the sea. His father limped; Jonathan saw a sharp piece of stone lodged in his leg, but he kept moving. A deafening whistle filled the skies; fiery blasts shook the earth around them, ravaging his father’s bar. Barely making any progress, his father gave out. He fell to the ground and put his rough hands to his face. Jonathan glanced at his brother and realized he had stopped breathing.

 

     Jonathan speculated the piteous look on his father’s face and back to his dead brother. Mortars fired again, the storm shelter crumbled to the ground and burning people frantically scattered out into the pouring rain like ants. Jonathan ran to his father and tears welled up in his eyes, “Bye daddy.” Jonathan scanned everywhere in the storm shelter but never saw his mother. Strangers lay burnt on the ground and suddenly they weren't so strange anymore. They shared the same fate he would he thought, and that is the closest he could get to them. Cannons razed everything around him, sending everything up in flames. He looked back towards his father and brother and saw them get blown away, shattering like a mirror. Jonathan crumbled to the ground in anguish, but quickly came to his senses and decided to go to his house. The building next to him was suddenly ripped apart, crashing into him and knocking him unconscious.

 

 

Edited May 2, 2015 by CloakofCrow

[wxps350]

ROTWOOD TREES

                We cannot deny that while certain men attempt to make peace with nature for their past crimes, it can hardly amend the atrocities committed against her children daily. Man strikes down her root-children en mass, as well as her meat-children when they wander onto his conquered territory. While it takes every inch of her willpower to resist any form of retaliation against man, her creations are harder to contain themselves. One example is when a tree is dying, plagued by man's wasteful, poisonous smog. Not only does this destroy it's sense of life, but it fuels it's undying rage, twisting branches into deadly claws and cracking bark into vicious teeth, becoming more beast than nature. A Rotwood tree has been born, intent on slaying all man and his creations.

[CloakofCrow]

Part VI

     

     He would regain consciousness every now and then, hearing gunshots and screams as whoever attacked the fort killed all survivors. Everything was dark.

 

      He awoke and saw nothing. He somehow lifted a large piece of rubble off of him and gradually stood up. It was morning and not a sound was to be heard. He milled about the obliterated town. The rain continued to lazily pour onto the ground, red streaks of blood flowed beneath his feet as he strolled to his house. He bumped through the door and sat at the table, no breakfast. He stared blankly into space and stood back up. This was the way he lived for days, ignoring the smell of rotting corpses. He ate what he could find lying around after almost starving to death. This was the way he lived for weeks, ignoring his brain’s attempts to try to make him think about his family. He threw rocks at the rats that attempted to get a meal out of the dead. This was the way he lived for months, until there was no more food left to eat. He threw the rocks harder so that he could get a meal from the rats. This is how Jonathan Crow survived for a whole year, eating rats and ignoring all the thoughts of his family. This was when he began to hear their voices.

         

      He heard the voices of the ones that died there. The spirits of the dead haunted him, entering his mind and poisoning his thoughts. They beckoned him to kill himself, said he wasn't supposed to live. He ignored them the best he could, surely it wasn't real. He only found peace at the roof of his old house.

 

Edited May 3, 2015 by CloakofCrow

[CloakofCrow]

Part VII

Many years later…

 

     His grubby, soot covered coat pressed against the worn soggy bricks of the chimney as he leaned backward. The blazing hearth below warmed him slightly, counteracting the dreary coldness that seemed to constantly loom about. Lazy waves crashed against the jagged shore, chills trickling down his spine as the salty sea spray sprinkled across his face. It was peaceful. A thick sea of fog rolled in over the worn walls, shrouding the silent settlement. The whispering cloud ruffled his dirty black hair as it enveloped him with a tasteless, odorless cloak, separating him from reality. He closed his darkened eyes, listening as a soft tune began orchestrating within his troubled mind.

 

     He kept his eyes closed for what seemed like forever, trapped in the quiet fiction of his mind; but as the fog dissipated, reality began creeping in. The thought of the hundreds of people who had died on the grounds below him entered. The mellow song in his head melted into the frantic ring of the lighthouse and the deafening booms of cannons and mortars as they razed everything around him; the burning odor of gunpowder and blood poisoned his scent; soot and smoke choked his lungs; cuts and fire burned his skin; his father and brother running for cover; and explosion, searing pain, and darkness.

 

     He jolted up with a shout, quickly realizing he was still on the familiar roof. He cleared his throat and wiped the moisture from his eyes, sitting back down and staring through the thick fog into nothingness. This was the Cloak of Crow, the only place Jonathan could find peace from his own thoughts, and it happened to be a rift between the material world and the abyss. A demon saw its perfect victim. “Hello Jonathan.”

[CloakofCrow]

(Annnd BAM! Jonathan's final character sheet. The rest of his legacy is left to be discovered during roleplaying.)

 

Name: Jonathan Crow

 

Age: Early 20’s

 

Gender: Male

 

 

Backstory:

     Alone, with nothing but the ruins of the place he once lived. Isolated, with nothing but the bleak sea surrounding him. Detached, with nothing but the company of himself and the spirits of the dead that laid beneath him. This was the life of Jonathan Crow.

Fort Tenòche was quite a bustling town. Merchants and hunters sailing the sea found this place to be a safe-haven from the violent waters and unpredictable weather. It was located in the middle of the ocean, a midpoint between the cities of Anton and Drell. It’s high, thick walls protected it from any unwanted visitors and the old lighthouse guided them into the port so they can rest and sell their goods. This is where Jonathan lived. Jonathan had a pretty normal childhood; mocking the strange men that entered the fort, stealing various trinkets from vendors in the market, curiously peeking through the window at the bar to see the things all the grown-ups did, all parts of a normal kid’s life in Fort Tenòche. Sure, he got in trouble sometimes and got a beating for it, but he always had his parents if he was in any real danger.

 

     Jonathan had a healthy relationship with his parents and older brother. After a good day of fooling around, there was always dinner on the table for him. He admired his father and brother very much and he always aspired to be just like them. His brother, Alan, worked with his father most of the time at the docks. Carrying crates to and from the ships. At night, his father worked at a local bar and his brother occasionally worked the lighthouse shift. Very rarely, his brother let him accompany him at the lighthouse. This was Jonathan’s favorite thing to do because he was able to see all the ships and watch as they followed the light his brother controlled.

One rainy night, he snuck out to see if his brother was doing ok up in the lighthouse. He climbed all the way up the spiraling staircase to the top and finally saw his brother. “Alan?” Jonathan said in a small voice.

 

     His brother turned his head in surprise upon seeing the soaking wet little Jonathan and quickly threw a cigarette off the ledge, “Jonathan? What are you doing here? Surely mother didn’t let you go outside in this weather!” Jonathan stared at the ground nervously, “I snuck out to see if you were ok.” Alan studied Jonathan begrudgingly, picking him up and setting him down on a bench so he could see the ocean. “You should not have, but thank you for caring about me.” The rain started pouring harder and Jonathan gazed wearily at the sky.

 

     “It’s raining harder,” Jonathan stated.

 

     “Yup,” His brother remarked.

 

     “Do you think it’ll get worse?”

 

     “I hope not.”

 

Jonathan squinted his eyes at something in the distance,

 

     “What’s that?”

 

His brother positioned the light to see what he was talking about, fear struck his face.

 

     “Jonathan, go get father!”

 

Jonathan hesitated, “What is it?”

 

     “I said go! Hurry!”

 

     Jonathan stared at his brother with confusion in his eyes and realized he was being serious. He flew down the spiraling stairs as nimbly as he could, slipping half-way down and quickly getting back up. He sprinted through the muddy streets, ignoring the strange men as he blindly made his way to the bar where his father was working. A bell began clanging in the lighthouse moments before cannon shots boomed in the distant ocean. People groggily lumbered out their doors to see what was going on. Jonathan pushed through their bodies, running into his father right outside the bar. Out of breath, he spoke frantically.

 

          “A-ah-Alan, brother!”

 

His father lifted him up with ease, a calm look on his face. He brought Jonathan to their house,

          “Get mother and go to the storm shelter, we’ll meet you there eventually. Quick!”

 

     His father ran towards the lighthouse and another volley of cannon fire went off. He could hear the shots splash into the water outside the wall. Jonathan dashed inside and grabbed his mother, “Daddy wants us to go to the shelter! He’s getting brother!” His mother nodded and grasped his hand, hustling out the door and guiding him towards the shelter.

 

     Screams and cries began upon the third round of cannon fire. The walls around the north side of the Fort exploded violently, sending bricks and various other shrapnel careening in all different directions. His mother maneuvered him through the panicked streets to the storm shelter, which was rapidly getting crowded. Another round of cannon fire, houses and shops burst into flame. They squeezed into the shelter and the bell halted its desperate clamoring. Another boom, the lighthouse was stricken. Jonathan ripped his hand free from his mother’s tight grip and bolted between everyone’s legs towards the lighthouse. His mother tried to run after him, but a flood of distressed people impeded her passage.

 

     He arrived at the lighthouse and saw his father struggling to drag his brother away, his legs were mangled and he was bleeding profusely. Jonathan ran to his father’s aid and propped up his brother with his shoulder. More cannons, they crashed into the lighthouse again sending it crashing into the sea. His father limped; Jonathan saw a sharp piece of stone lodged in his leg, but he kept moving. A deafening whistle filled the skies; fiery blasts shook the earth around them, ravaging his father’s bar. Barely making any progress, his father gave out. He fell to the ground and put his rough hands to his face. Jonathan glanced at his brother and realized he had stopped breathing.

          

     Jonathan speculated the piteous look on his father’s face and back to his dead brother. Mortars fired again, the storm shelter crumbled to the ground and burning people frantically scattered out into the pouring rain like ants. Jonathan ran to his father and tears welled up in his eyes, “Bye daddy.” Jonathan scanned everywhere in the storm shelter but never saw his mother. Strangers lay burnt on the ground and suddenly they weren't so strange anymore. They shared the same fate he would he thought, and that is the closest he could get to them. Cannons razed everything around him, sending everything up in flames. He looked back towards his father and brother and saw them get blown away, shattering like a mirror. Jonathan crumbled to the ground in anguish, but quickly came to his senses and decided to go to his house. The building next to him was suddenly ripped apart, crashing into him and knocking him unconscious.

 

     Every once in a while he would regain consciousness, hearing gunshots and screams as whoever attacked the fort killed all survivors. Everything was dark.

          

     He awoke and saw nothing. He somehow lifted a large piece of rubble off of him and gradually stood up. It was morning and not a sound was to be heard. He milled about the obliterated town. The rain continued to lazily pour onto the ground, red streaks of blood flowed beneath his feet as he strolled to his house. He bumped through the door and sat at the table, no breakfast. He stared blankly into space and stood back up. This was the way he lived for days, ignoring the smell of rotting corpses. He ate what he could find lying around after almost starving to death. This was the way he lived for weeks, ignoring his brain’s attempts to try to make him think about his family. He threw rocks at the rats that attempted to get a meal out of the dead. This was the way he lived for months, until there was no more food left to eat. He threw the rocks harder so that he could get a meal from the rats. This is how Jonathan Crow survived for a whole year, eating rats and ignoring all the thoughts of his family. This was when he began to hear their voices.

     

     He heard the voices of the ones that died there. The spirits of the dead haunted him, entering his mind and poisoning his thoughts. They beckoned him to kill himself, said he wasn’t supposed to live. He ignored them the best he could, surely it wasn’t real. He only found peace at the roof of his old house.

 

 

Many years later…

 

     His grubby, soot covered coat pressed against the worn soggy bricks of the chimney as he leaned backward. The blazing hearth below warmed him slightly, counteracting the dreary coldness that seemed to constantly loom about. Lazy waves crashed against the jagged shore, chills trickling down his spine as the salty sea spray sprinkled across his face. It was peaceful. A thick sea of fog rolled in over the worn walls, shrouding the silent settlement. The whispering cloud ruffled his dirty black hair as it enveloped him with a tasteless, odorless cloak, separating him from reality. He closed his darkened eyes, listening as a soft tune began orchestrating within his troubled mind.

 

     He kept his eyes closed for what seemed like forever, trapped in the quiet fiction of his mind; but as the fog dissipated, reality began creeping in. The thought of the hundreds of people who had died on the grounds below him entered. The mellow song in his head melted into the frantic ring of the lighthouse and the deafening booms of cannons and mortars as they razed everything around him; the burning odor of gunpowder and blood poisoned his scent; soot and smoke choked his lungs; cuts and fire burned his skin; his father and brother running for cover; and explosion, searing pain, and darkness.

 

     He jolted up with a shout, quickly realizing he was still on the familiar roof. He cleared his throat and wiped the moisture from his eyes, sitting back down and staring through the thick fog into nothingness. This was the Cloak of Crow, the only place Jonathan could find peace from his own thoughts, and it happened to be a rift between the material world and the abyss. A demon saw its perfect victim. “Hello Jonathan.” 

 

 

Abilities:

 

Possessed: Jonathan is possessed by a powerful demon. It is bound to his soul and through that connection it can access the material world. Jonathan has an agreement with it: as long as he can supply the demon with souls, it will keep him alive and give him various “enhancements” improving his quality of life while making it easier to consume souls. Enhancements include: improved perception, hearing, reflexes, balance, and other basic things like that. Of course, these things are only available if Jonathan can supply the demon with souls. Enhancements are more powerful when Jonathan is insane, when having recently consumed a soul, and when nearing death; and less powerful when he’s sane or hasn't consumed a soul.

 

Schizophrenia: Jonathan hears voices in his head. The main voice he hears is the one of the demon that possesses him. It often times gives him advice and can sometimes help him if he’s conflicted with something. He can hear this voice at all times unless another voice in his head drowns it out. Oh, there are other voices too, and they aren’t so helpful. The other voices are from the souls of other people the demon has consumed and the voices of the dead from the fort. They berate him and generally are a nuisance. There are only certain ways to get rid of them depending on the person it used to be, proving a difficult mental challenge for him.

 

Demon Form: The demon within Jonathan wants to keep him alive; otherwise it would lose its only connection to the material world. Thus, upon imminent death or complete insanity, it will reveal its true form and prevent Jonathan from dying. It is a very rare and improbable thing to happen.

 

Cloak of Crow: A shroud of fog covers the area, enhancing his mental state of mind. It only happens when he is at peace from the voices in his head and its benefits/hindrances are unknown.

 

Drawing: 

Edited May 4, 2015 by CloakofCrow

[MenaAthena]

Everything                                Wrong         

With

 

The Cloak of Crow

 

(Spoilers!!!)

 

(Read the story already you lazy bum)

Alone, with nothing but the ruins of the place he once lived. Detached, with nothing but the company of himself and the spirits of the dead that laid beneath him.

First you say he's alone, then you say he has the company of dead people's spirits? Make up your mind. *ding*

 

mocking the strange men that entered the fort

Hm... should I use, "Jonathan is a jerk to foreigners," or "That's racist"? Eh, let's do both. *ding* *ding*

 

mocking the strange men that entered the fort, stealing various trinkets from vendors in the market, curiously peeking through the window at the bar to see the things all the grown-ups did, all parts of a normal kid’s life in Fort Tenòche.

So... all the normal kids were pick-pocketing brats? *ding*

 

After a good day of fooling around, there was always dinner on the table for him. He admired his father and brother very much and he always aspired to be just like them. 

Aspires to be like his hard working brother and father, yet spends all day fooling around. And stealing. And being a jerk to foreigners. *ding*

 

His brother turned his head in surprise upon seeing the soaking wet little Jonathan and quickly threw a cigarette off the ledge,

 

Smoking. *ding*

 

The rain started pouring harder

"Dramatic storm before something bad happens" cliche. *ding*

 

“Do you think it’ll get worse?” 

“I hope not.”

"I hope it doesn't get any worse" cliche. *ding*

His brother positioned the light to see what he was talking about, fear struck his face. 

So Alan shines the light on it and sees what it is but Jonathan doesn't? *ding*

He flew down the spiraling stairs as nimbly as he could, slipping half-way down and quickly getting back up.

Kind of a nitpick, but including that slip half way down was completely unnecessary and pointless. Still counting it as a sin because... potatoes. *ding*

ignoring the strange men

That's sexist. *ding*

Jonathan pushed through their bodies

Whoa! Jonathan is a ghost! He just fazed right through those people! *ding*

 

The walls around the north side of the Fort exploded violently, sending bricks and various other shrapnel careening in all different directions.

What happened to protecting the fort from any unwanted visitors? *ding*

 

He could hear the shots splash into the water outside the wall.

What a waste of ammo. *ding*

 

Jonathan ripped his hand free from his mother’s tight grip and bolted between everyone’s legs towards the lighthouse.

Scene does not contain a lap dance. *ding*

 

He arrived at the lighthouse and saw his father struggling to drag his brother away, his legs were mangled and he was bleeding profusely.

His father's or his brother's? I mean, I know it means his brother's legs, but the way the sentence is worded could mean either one. Grammar. It is important.*ding*

 

Jonathan ran to his father’s aid and propped up his brother with his shoulder.

Scene does not contain a lap dance. *ding*

 

Jonathan crumbled to the ground in anguish, but quickly came to his senses and decided to go to his house.

Uh, no. A young buy does not quickly come to his senses in a situation like this. He should either be in panic, bawling his eyes out, shutting down, or a combination thereof. *ding*

 

The building next to him was suddenly ripped apart, crashing into him and knocking him unconscious.

Rubble Ex Machina. *ding*

 

He would regain consciousness every now and then, hearing gunshots and screams as whoever attacked the fort killed all survivors. Everything was dark.

"Protagonist is unconscious but regains consciousness every now and then through most of the action" cliche. *ding*

Also, who are these people? Why are they attacking the fort and killing all the survivors? Do we ever find out? No. The answer is no. *ding*

 

He somehow lifted a large piece of rubble off of him and gradually stood up.

Somehow. *ding*

 

He milled about the obliterated town.

Ok, I can believe that enough rubble fell on top of him to knock him unconscious, but not enough to kill him, and hide him from whoever was attacking, but you expect me to believe one: he was the only person to survive, *ding* and two: none of his bones were broken? *ding* That's suspending my suspension of disbelief just a little too high.

 

He ate what he could find lying around after almost starving to death.

Again, nitpicky, and I'm no expert on starving to death, but if you are literally on death's door because your body doesn't have enough food to function I would think it would be kind of hard to get to the food, chew it, and then live long enough for it to be digested and your body to use it. It's still getting counted as a sin, because waffles. *ding*

 

He threw rocks at the rats that attempted to get a meal out of the dead.

Jonathan is a jerk to rats. *ding*

 

He threw the rocks harder so that he could get a meal from the rats.

Jonathan is a jerk to rats. Again. *ding*

 

Many years later…

Unspecific time is unspecific. *ding*

Also, Jonathan must be pretty strong minded if he spent "many years" mentally unstable and being constantly told he should kill him himself and he hasn't killed himself yet. *ding*

 

Lazy waves crashed against the jagged shore, chills trickling down his spine as the salty sea spray sprinkled across his face. It was peaceful. A thick sea of fog rolled in over the worn walls, shrouding the silent settlement.

Wait a minute, I can believe that not all the houses, including Jonathan's, were destroyed, but if his house is close enough to the shore to get sprayed by the ocean, I find it kinda hard to believe it wasn't hit. *ding*

 

dirty black hair

That's racist. *ding*

 

He closed his darkened eyes, listening as a soft tune began orchestrating within his troubled mind.

Not a sin, but I keep imagining he's listening to Minecraft music. Carry on.

 

his father and brother running for cover

Jonathan is remembering this wrong. *ding*

 

He cleared his throat and wiped the moisture from his eyes, sitting back down and staring through the thick fog into nothingness.

There were two different fogs? *ding*

 

This was the Cloak of Crow

Roll credits. *ding*

 

and it happened to be a rift between the material world and the abyss.

The fog or the roof of his house? I'm confused.  *ding*

 

A demon saw its perfect victim. “Hello Jonathan.”

CLIFFHANGER! *ding*

Backstory Sin Tally:  36

                            Sentence:  The Lighthouse

                                        (After it fell into the sea)

[CloakofCrow]

(Punishment for criticism requires you to like everything you criticized :3)

[wxps350]

(Lol I love Cinema Sins)

[Quiet]

mocking the strange men that entered the fort, stealing various trinkets from vendors in the market, curiously peeking through the window at the bar to see the things all the grown-ups did, all parts of a normal kid’s life in Fort Tenòche.

So... all the normal kids were pick-pocketing brats? *ding*

 

After a good day of fooling around, there was always dinner on the table for him. He admired his father and brother very much and he always aspired to be just like them. 

Aspires to be like his hard working brother and father, yet spends all day fooling around. And stealing. And being a jerk to foreigners. *ding*

 

This is just...incredible.  I have no words.

 

Says he has no words, right after he says "This is incredible" in the sentence just before this.  *ding*

[wxps350]

  WAR OF THE PIGS

There are various pig villages scattered throughout the land. Some friendly, others aggressive. Some large, some small. Yet those are simply the neutral Pigs, seperate from the two much larger pig tribes. One devoted to the earth that birthed them, the other to the Dark Ones. They are the Hogs and the Swine.
 
The Hogs are the more benevolent of the two tribes, focusing more on the well -being of the earth. Physical Features of Swines are brown skin, large tusks, and stocky bodies. Their architecture is more wood-based, often using a method of "Wood Binding", Where they altar the growth of trees into forming the most formidable castles yet most delicate art. While they are usually pacifists, they are never afraid of drawing up swords & clubs when their peace is threatened. They are generally friendly to humans and pig villages, sometimes convincing them to assist them and even offering shelter. They are generally hearty creatures, telling tall-tales and sharing good laughs. 
 
Swine are the complete opposite of the Hogs. Their physical features are pale pink skin, thin, tall frames, and are usually completely endorsed in corrupted earth. They are less intelligent than most common pigs, having most of their towns be made of crude cobble or broken wood, and very dungeon-like and cold. Anyone or thing that unknowingly wanders deep into the Woods of Malice are stricken down, or brought before their foul king, Sion, who decrees they either be fed to the dire hounds within their breeding pits, or to be flayed alive for his own amusement. They are warlike, laying waste to hundreds of settlements, if for no reason other than to please their masters.  They are foul and gluttonous, evidence of their dark feasts constantly visible.In the deepest heart of the Woods of Malice, the Swine breed in filth. Originally pigs corrupted by dark spirits, the
 
The two tribes have lived isolated from each other, until the Swine moved outward from the Woods of Malice in search of food, which led to a brutal event known as "The Dark Banquet", an event in which the Hog village of Welfed, was attacked by 10,000 Swines, and all capable of defending it was 500 Hogs. As expected, the town was completely demolished, and all of its men and women were killed. Word quickly reached Oakflat, the capital city of the Hog's, and there was an immediate retaliation of war. Since that fateful day 60 years ago, the brutal war has raged, and many lives have fallen to the beast of war. 
 
 
 
 
Territories:
 
 
Hogs:
-Commonweald: A key village within the Green Woods.
Size: Medium(1,000-1,499)
Status: Safe
 
-Orgus: One of two villages along the Cancer River dividing the Plains of Sylvannus and the Fields of Cupa.
 
Size: Small(500-999)
Status: At Risk 
       Reason: A Swine horde hoping to attack Commonweald has been spotted by scouts, and driven back by a cavalry group, and has set up camp between Hatchet and Orgus. While they have not attacked, it is unlikely the situation will remain that way.
 
-Hatchet: One of two villages along the Cancer River dividing the Plains of Sylvannus and Fields of Cupa.
Size: Small(500-999)
Status: At Risk 
      Reason: A Swine horde hoping to attack Commonweald has been spotted by scouts, and driven back by a cavalry group, and has set up camp between Hatchet and Orgus. While they have not attacked, it is unlikely the situation will remain that way.
 
-Welfed: The first town destroyed by the Swine, starting the bloody war.
Size: Desolate(0)
Status: Demolished
      Reason: The Swine have launched a pre-emptive strike against this once bustling town, and completely overran all defenses.
 
-Oakflat: The unassailable capital city of the Hog in the center of the Plains of Sylva, built into a large rock formation.
Size: Extremely Large(5,000-10,000)
Status: Endangered
      Reason: While no attacks are yet recorded nor foreseeable, it IS the capital objective for the Swine.
 
-Goldwood: A mining town gathering minerals used for armor and weapons used by the Brass Boars.
Size: Large(1,500-2,999)
Status: Safe
 
-Hammerguard: A fortress standing as the besieged foreground in the Woods of Malice, constantly threatened by Swine natives.
Size: Medium(1,000-1,499)
Status: Besieged
    Reason: The Swine are intent on destroying this fortress and any threats to their land, yet have never landed a successful raid. While casualties per attack are small, being held by the strongest Hog warriors, it will eventually be overrun as no reinforcements have been sent in months, and all provisions must be obtained from foraging the land.
 
Swine:
 
-Slag: An old dungeon deep within the Warren tunnels. It is mostly composed of breeding dens for dire hounds.
Size: Large(5,000-10,000)
Status: Safe
 
-Bile: A camp in the high Mountains of Ru, and the first respondance to any Invading Hogs.
Size: Small(500-999)
Status: At Risk
            Reason: If the Hogs have a large enough army, they could easily scale the cliffs and destroy the city, and it is merely for forescouting.
 
-Wight Roost: A complex labyrinth connected to the Warren tunnels that was mere leagues away from Oakflat.
Size: Desolate
Status: Destroyed
            Reason: You really expect the Hogs would let a passage connecting their front door to the abyss that the Swines live and breed in?
 
-Warren Tunnels: A series of ancient tunnels that connects the world together, and are so large that travel between passages may take days, or even weeks in complete darkness.
Size: Huge(Unknown)
Status: At Risk
            Reason: The actual chances of the Warren Tunnels being compromised is minimal, as it takes just as long for the Hog to capture a section for the Swine to take it back.
 

NOTABLE CHARACTERS:

 
Hog:
 
-King Hearthsire: The plump king of the Hog, fair to all his subjects and warriors, even in these dark times.
Level of Interest: 5
Status: Safe
Whereabouts: Safely watching Oakflats
 
-Hoglord Darius: One of the six Hoglord’s, and an avid warrior
Level of Interest: 3
Status:  At Risk
Whereabouts: Commanding Hammerguard
 
-Hoglord Boace: One of the five Hoglords,  who’s most curious figure is his one eye, earning him the nickname “Pig-clops” by humans
Level of Interest: 4
Status: Unknown
Whereabouts: Last seen in the Wight Roost with multiple other warriors fighting back Swine and Dire Hounds, as Winnie fled to report the victory over the crumbling abyss. Whether he is still alive in the Warren Tunnels or has fallen is uncertain, and searches for him have been going.
 
-Hoglords Franco and Dango: Twin Hoglords who insisted on being refered to as one.
Level of Interest: 1
Status: Deceased
Whereabouts: Slain in the Battle of the Bristled Hills. Originally, Dango was killed by Swine Jarl Oolong, who was in turn slain by Franco. Franco succumbed to Oolong’s poisonous bodily fluids, and fell next to Dango. The two were buried in the Plains of Sylvannus.
 
-Hoglord Boarace: Eldest of the Hoglords, and most combat experienced.
Level of Interest: 3
Status: At Risk
Whereabouts: Currently tasked with running multiple charges into the Swine lands, and can easily be slain should he let his guard down
 
-Winnie: Squire of Hoglord Boace. Exceedingly well at delivering messages in days compared to average couriers who would take weeks.
Level of Interest: 1
Status: Safe
Whereabouts: Currently residing in Oakflats, until he is required once more.
 
Swine:
 
-King Drauga: The Filthy king of the Swine, spending his days gorging on squalid meals in his underground keep.
Level of Interest: 5
Status: Uncertain
Whereabouts: Spends his days sleeping and eating within the Warren Tunnels
 
-Swine Jarl Oolong: One of four Swine Jarls, known for his toxic nature.
Level of Interest: 1
Status: Deceased
Whereabouts: Slain in the Battle of the Bristled Hills.
 
-Swine Jarl Tengu: One of four Swine Jarls, and most skilled assassin in the land.
Level of Interest: 5
Status: At Risk
Whereabouts: Unknown
 
-Swine Jarl Wretch: One of four Swine Jarls, known for his gluttonous habits.
Level of Interest: 3
Status: Safe
Whereabouts: Feasting on the Warrens denizens at a controlled rate.
 
-Swine Jarl Mayhem: One of four Swine Jarls, known for his wild nature
Level of Interest: 2
Status: Endangered
Whereabouts: Launching sporadic attacks against Hammerguard
 
-Dark Priestess Garnet: Head of all occult activities within the Swine tribe, claiming to have originally spoken with the Dark Ones.
Level of Interest:  3
Status: Safe
Whereabouts: Living within the Warren Tunnels
 
 
 

SPECIAL FORCES

 
 
Hog:
 
Brass Boars: Hogs that use gold and silver instead of quartz & wood materials, and are responsible for over 25 Hog Victories
Strength: 750
 
Wardens of Nature: Hog reconnaissance force. Are able to quickly maneuver through woods, and have scouted much of the Woods of Malice.
Strength: 120
 
Earth Riders: Cavalry unit, using beefalos as their favored means of transportation. Usually on the defensive to cut off any surprise Swine invasions.
Strength: 250
 
Order of the Magi: A circle of magic users, only the wisest of Swine are allowed to enter.
Strength: 50
 
Swine:
 
Hound Riders: Calvary using quick and powerful Dire Hounds.
Strength: 350
 
Dark  One’s Assembly: An assortment of dark priests attempting communion with the Dark Ones, though often resulting in bloody failure.
Strength: 35
 
Wight Marauders: Corrupted Swines that are tasked with raiding villages & towns.
Strength: 1,250
 
 
 

NUMBERS

 
Hog Forces: 35,000
 
Swine Forces: 60,000
 
 
 
Hog Casualties: 250,000
 
Swine Casualties: 750,000

[wxps350]

Infinite Worlds

From the Journal of Prof. Clemming

Dimensional Staff: 

"I have finally created my greatest invention yet!  By taking a stick carved from the remains of a tree monster, attaching a purple crystal, and enhancing said crystal with the essence of the dream monsters, I have made a staff capable of teleporting! But by attaching a Dimensional transporter to it from the large portal, I have made a device capable of travelling between realms! By activating it, It will create a sphere around the user, and will shred a hole in the very fabric of space! I have managed to move to entire new worlds, the number of which have had no end in number. I have met other survivors. Many, in fact. By ability to invade other worlds, I find myself capable of better understanding this universe. I have noted the following:

 

-If a "Puppet", meaning a being that the world is created to accommodate, dies, then world will begin collapsing. The process by which it collapses includes:

• Withering of all plants
• Rapid decomposition of living beings.
• Crumbling of Rocks
• The Earth will begin sinking in on itself

​-If multiple Puppets exist in one world, then collapsing will not commence until all are dead, or have left the world. If atleast one puppet is alive yet in another world, it will freeze until they or another Puppet arrive.

 

-Natural Lifeforms cannot be transported. Believe me, I tried. 

 

-Items can be transported, yet will reach temperatures of over 16 degrees celsius. Heat resistant items are the only advised items to be carried, less the user has heat resistant material for grabbing it. 

 

-All worlds have the same materials and lifeforms. Any materials found in one world yet not another have been introduced by the starting puppet. 

 

 

Additional Notes: There appears to be a sphere-shaped barrier preventing passage. I have been able to venture fully around it, and hypothesize that there must be something within it. However, any means of unlocking it are currently unapparent. I will continue research into this, and shall cease all other research until I have unlocked the gate."

Edited May 27, 2015 by wxps350

[CloakofCrow]

Everything                                Wrong         

With

 

MenaAthena's CinemaSins

 

(No hard feelings)

 

 

(I have to defend my story, so yea )

 

 

 

Bold = Excerpt Mena says has a sin / Mena's comment

Italics = My reply

 

 

First you say he's alone, then you say he has the company of dead people's spirits? Make up your mind. *ding*

 

Company of Himself = Alone

Company of Dead Spirits = Not something you can interact with = Alone

 

 

Hm... Should I use, "Jonathan is a jerk to foreigners," or "That's racist"? Eh, let's do both. *ding* *ding*

 

     Not a sin in the development of the story = Not a cinema sin

 

 

So... all the normal kids were pick-pocketing brats? *ding*

 

     Again, not a flaw in the story = Not a cinema sin

 

 

Aspires to be like his hard working brother and father, yet spends all day fooling around. And stealing. And being a jerk to foreigners. *ding*

 

     Little kids always want to be like their parents, that doesn’t mean they ignore everything being a child entails and copy everything their parents do. Plus, who says his brother and father didn’t do “bad” things as children?

 

 

Smoking. *ding*

 

     Again, not a flaw in the story = Not a cinema sin

 

 

Clichés are technically cinema sins, but it’s nearly impossible to avoid clichés with a good story.

 

 

His brother positioned the light to see what he was talking about, fear struck his face.

 

     He could probably see it, but he positioned the light to see it better. Like if you point out something in the dark that you could kind of see so a person with a flashlight could point at it to confirm what you saw.

 

 

That's sexist. *ding*

 

     I’m going to ignore this :3

 

 

Whoa! Jonathan is a ghost! He just fazed right through those people! *ding*

 

     I hope you’re kidding…

 

 

What happened to protecting the fort from any unwanted visitors? *ding*

 

     It’s a wall. Obviously with enough explosives it will crumble. Most people don’t have enough money to even have that amount of explosives. So it served its purpose well until this specific situation.

 

 

He could hear the shots splash into the water outside the wall.

 

     You think they could hit on the very first volley? Usually it takes a couple rounds of fire before they can get the trajectory correct to actually hit the target.

 

 

Scene does not contain a lap dance. *ding*

 

     Agreed.

 

 

His father's or his brother's? I mean, I know it means his brother's legs, but the way the sentence is worded could mean either one. Grammar. It is important.*ding*

 

     Agreed. But his father wouldn’t be struggling to drag his brother if his legs were mangled.

 

 

Uh, no. A young buy does not quickly come to his senses in a situation like this. He should either be in panic, bawling his eyes out, shutting down, or a combination thereof. *ding*

 

     Agreed… But adrenaline and the fact Jonathan isn’t a normal child could refute that.

 

 

"Protagonist is unconscious but regains consciousness every now and then through most of the action" cliche. *ding*

 

     Again with the cliché thing.

 

 

Also, who are these people? Why are they attacking the fort and killing all the survivors? Do we ever find out? No. The answer is no. *ding*

 

    Purposefully untold because Jonathan doesn't know and there may or may not be a story about all this later on = Not a cinema sin

 

 

Somehow. *ding*

 

     Agreed.

 

 

Ok, I can believe that enough rubble fell on top of him to knock him unconscious, but not enough to kill him, and hide him from whoever was attacking, but you expect me to believe one: he was the only person to survive, *ding* and two: none of his bones were broken? *ding* That's suspending my suspension of disbelief just a little too high.

 

     Yup.

 

 

He ate what he could find lying around after almost starving to death.

 

     VERY nitpicky

 

 

Unspecific time is unspecific. *ding*

 

     Do you want me to be super specific? Exactly eight years, three months, and twelve days later…

 

 

Also, Jonathan must be pretty strong minded if he spent "many years" mentally unstable and being constantly told he should kill him himself and he hasn't killed himself yet. *ding*

 

     Yup, he is very strong minded. Not a cinema sin.

 

 

Wait a minute, I can believe that not all the houses, including Jonathan's, were destroyed, but if his house is close enough to the shore to get sprayed by the ocean, I find it kinda hard to believe it wasn't hit. *ding*

 

     The fort is in the middle of the ocean, the people who raided the fort didn’t attack it from all angles, they focused on one specific spot, which is why the wall crumbled even though it was supposed to protect from unwanted visitors. And that one specific spot wasn’t near his house.

 

 

dirty black hair

 

     I should be put in jail for being so racist.

 

 

Jonathan is remembering this wrong. *ding*

 

     I guess this is a sin, but it’s been a very long time and he was a child. Plus, his mind isn’t all that healthy after eight years, three months, and twelve days of torment.

 

 

There were two different fogs? *ding*

 

     Oops.

 

 

The fog or the roof of his house? I'm confused.  *ding*

 

     The fog, it’s confusing?

 

 

CLIFFHANGER! *ding*

 

     Not a sin.

 

There is no sin tally because this isn't a cinema sin. I'm gonna go back to crying in the corner now.

 

Edited June 19, 2015 by CloakofCrow

[MenaAthena]

And I was just about to get onto you for not including a sin tally and sentence, sneaky sneaky...

Alsomycinemasinsparodywascreatedsolelyforentertainmentpurposesandwasnotmenttobetakentooseriously.Mostofmy"gripes"werepurelyforhilarity'ssake.AlsoallthewordsarebuncheduplikethisbecauseI'mtryingtoportraytalkingreallyfastliketheydowhenlistingdisclaimersandsideaffects.Ifailed.