Avatar of Tally Dor

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1 hr ago
Current Yes. English can be weird, but it can be understood through tough thorough thought, though.
2 likes
6 hrs ago
Apparently it's not 'socially acceptable' to ask the mother of a child on a lease if it was a rescue.
3 likes
1 day ago
Has anyone ever been to Taumata­whakatangihanga­koauau­o­tamatea­turi­pukaka­piki­maunga­horo­nuku­pokai­whenua­ki­tana­tahu?
2 days ago
My wife complains I never buy her flowers, but to be honest I never knew she sold them.
11 likes
3 days ago
Yeah. I wasn't able to get reservations at the library. Turns out they are completely booked.
5 likes

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It's quite an amazing thing to see. These midnight black creatures that drift through the skies. To watch them is to think they are floating about. Whenever one of them flaps their wings, it somehow makes no noise. They can grow to be twice the size of a horse at maturity. They are like a mixture between a bat and a butterfly. It is because of these creatures that the world always kept lights burning in the hours that darkness falls.

They are not malicious, but you never want to be caught outside without a light source to keep them away. Whenever war happens, they flock to the bodies and any that are left out at the battle site will be gone the next day. It is like they are natures scavengers. Akin to the buzzards one sometimes sees cleaning up the dead here.

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The Storyteller continued his story as some of the patrons over on the other side of the tavern stood up and paid their tabs and thanked the Barkeep before leaving. As they left through the front door, more adventurers poured in. A constant back and forth of people leaving and entering. The Barkeep taking dirty glasses, refilling empty ones, and taking new customers orders. While some passed the bar and went straight to the old man spinning his yarn.

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There was once a whole town that was wiped out save for three households. The townsperson who was in charge of keeping the lanterns lit had a few too many drinks and forgot to refill the oil. So, as the town slumbered the lanterns began to extinguish one by one. The ones that survived the tragedy only did so because they had children that were scared of the dark and so had small candles lit for them that kept the Night Butterflies away.

One might wonder why the world did not take measures to wipe them out, but these creatures were as much a blessing as they were a curse. One time the world had a Pathworks portal open, and a massive force of Humanoid cat warriors swarmed in ready to conquer using the night as cover as they could see perfectly well in the darkness. The few scouts that had sneaked into the world prior to observe had been in the daytime and now they were totally caught unawares.

The humans only learned the next morning of this failed plan because they managed to find one of the Feline warriors stark raving mad that had tumbled into a small crevice that the Butterflies could not reach them.
It was a rare instance where the Storyteller was not in the Stone Rose Tavern. He stood atop the stone wall that surrounded the city of Bradington. His hood was down, and his wild mane of hair and beard was blowing about in the wind as he took deep breaths. Each time he inhaled air it was like a blue ethereal light was pulled towards his open mouth. He was using an advanced form of mana breathing to greatly increase his mana pool.

It was not often that he liked to act anymore because he considered himself retired, but dire times called for drastic measures. His hands were raised as the mana continued to swirl around him like a whirlpool. His hazel eyes had lost their color and were replaced by an azure blue glow. In front of the town were retreating guards and adventurers as only a handful had decided to pay the ultimate price to slow down the advancing horde of corrupted demons, orcs, humans, dwarves, and other races that had been unfortunate enough to be in the way of this advancing madness.

His arms began to shake wildly as the mana began to become unstable as a ring on his left hand. A plain gold band began to have runes appear on it as the mana condensed even further, before the Storyteller whispered a single word as all the mana left his body.

"Consume."

Several of the soldiers that had been around him grabbed him as he faltered and kept him upright. They were in awe as everything in front of them as far as they could see was covered in raging blue fire. It was as if the very air itself was burning, as the fire rolled across the ground, rained down from the heavens, and lapped up everything. Even the demons that were normally born of fire could not withstand this strange inferno.

All was reduced to ash.

Even the stone wall they all stood upon was threatening to melt out from underneath them, but the shields that protected the town were hanging on for now.

"Rest now. Your nightmare is over." He whispered quietly to those that had decided to give their lives to make sure the corrupted beings did not get close to the city so that he could finish his spell.
The Stone Rose Tavern was filled with glowing grinning Jack-o-lanterns as a cool breeze blew through the town. Autumn was in full swing, and the harvest of the crops was right around the corner. Some of the children of the town could be seen running around in colorful costumes and various masks. Many of them were laughing with glee as they ran about the town. Many of the adults who were blessed with mana were busy casting illusions of various creatures giving the children a fright.

The tavern was purposely dimly illuminated by candles as many of the patrons were being silent adding to the forlorn atmosphere the Barkeep was trying to instill as some of the children dressed as various creatures would wander into the tavern to get candy or other treats from the Barkeep and other patrons. The bear of a man chuckled sinisterly as his eyes darted to one corner of his establishment. Due to some minor magic it was pitch black, with only small blue stones casting enough light on the floor that the children would not crash into tables or trip over chairs.

In the center of the darkness was a figure that one could barely notice his outline. It was only brief seconds where his face was visible as the red embers glowed as he drew in a puff from his pipe. Drenching his face in a faint red light.

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There I was standing awake. Teetering on the brink of madness as the lack of sleep was quickly catching up to me. For the past two weeks I had been unable to sleep because of the figure I saw out my window. He would show up each night at 2 a.m. on the dot leaning up against my window. I could barely make out his features in the darkness. The wiry white beard, the callous eyes, the wrinkles on his face, those lifeless eyes. It spoke to me.

"Come on Magnus. Just let your old pa in." His deep voice echoing in the night. "I'm tired."

My hands were sweating and shaking in spite of brave face I was putting on as the fire magic crackled around my fingers. Sometimes I wondered if it really could not get in or if it was the threat of my magic that kept it outside. I ignored its words as it began to repeat itself as my silence was its only answer. I could hear the gentle snoring coming from the second floor even before it came into view.

The intense shiver of terror that ran up my spine that first night as I had unlatched the window the first night and had been mere seconds away from pulling the window open when my dad had snorted in his sleep bringing my attention to this not being right. Just recalling it made me swallow as my eyes focused on the thing outside the window.

"You are not my dad! He's asleep in the other room!"

The things expression, My father's expression soured as it slowed backed away from the window before staggering towards the woods.
I like to imagine sand slimes have to be washed a crazy amount otherwise you will always get a mouthful of dirt.
The Storyteller was flipping through a dusty ledger as he exhaled a mouthful of smoke from the pipe he was smoking. The Stone Rose Tavern was closed today, and he was looking into some information for a group of adventurers about the history of the town. When he heard the scampering of feet below the table, his messy collection of scrolls and papers were haphazardly placed about upon.

"Curious." He thought to himself as he took a few puffs from the pipe, before glancing underneath the table to see nothing below it.

"Curiouser." The thought echoed in his mind as he moved back up to his sitting position and had a slight fright as he saw four green humanoid figures appear in front him. They were each holding hands before letting go. Four goblin children each barely over two feet tall if one was being generous. The Storyteller chuckled recognizing the girl in front of them.

"Glimmer!" His eyes tensed as he quickly stood up pulling the curtains closed around the tavern as Glimmer and her crew watched him. She had a toothy grin as she stood with her hands resting on her hips. Despite being goblins each of them was dressed in clothing one might expect from a child. Mismatched and often one or two sizes too big.

Her squeaky voice rang out in the growing darkness. "You worry ta much old man. Ain't nobody saw us." She ran her grubby fingers through her raven hair that flowed to the middle of her back.

The Storyteller smirked. "Of course no one saw you. You all snuck in when Huron came to town didn't you?" The slight snickering of the children confirmed his suspensions. He massaged his temples as he pushed away the start of a headache. "Just because Huron is here as a diplomat doesn't mean the same friendliness is offered to the rest of you by the town." He clicked his tongue a few times as he sat down in front of them.

He made a shooing motion to get them off his papers, many of them now were slightly smudged and he would no doubt get an earful from the town clerk when he tried to return them. Yet he did not yell at Glimmer and the other children as they sat down at another table so they could be at a proper level to the Storyteller.

Glancing at each of the set of amber eyes in front of him he chuckled as they all had the same look of expectance. Children were all the same in this regard he supposed.

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Once there was a rather lucky goblin. He was wandering through the woods when he came across a corpse. It was a shriveled up old man in a purple robe. He had been dead for quite some time and naturally this goblin enacted the number one rule amongst all sentient races.

Finders keepers!

He began to dig around in the corpses pockets and found a tiny chest, though it was difficult to hold in both of his hands.
Seeing no lock upon the chest, the goblin opened it and spied with his little eyes ten shiny cooper rings. Each of them had a small green gem in the center of them and he noticed a rush of energy flow through his body when he put a ring on. He noticed his muscles growing bigger and more taunt as each ring found its way onto a different finger.

This goblin who began to call himself the incredible Bulk became the strongest goblin there ever was! Why his weapon of choice was a great sword. Yet it was too big to be called a sword. Massive, thick, heavy, and far too rough. Indeed, it was like a heap of raw iron. One might say it was more accurate to say that this sword was wielding a goblin. The swords length was easily twice his size and yet because of the overwhelming enchantment of strength from his ten rings, he was able to use the sword more like a club, cutting and crushing anything that came into his path.

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The goblin children were in a state of rapt attention at the story, not noticing the figure creeping up behind them. The Storyteller merely grinned as he continued. "If you think Bulk is amazing, just wait until you hear about goblin druid Pookah and her ability to make vine animals that served her!" Glimmer's mouth opened at the thought of a female goblin hero when a loud clap startled the children.

"I turn my head for five minutes and you lot are gone!" The children all huddled together and backed away towards the human as before them stood a goblin in a fancy burgundy suit with a gold monocle over his left eye. His black hair slicked back with pomade. It seems Huron had finally found his lost charges.

"Behave! You said huh! Keep your noses clean! They said!" As he glanced towards the Storyteller before looking back at Glimmer and the other three. "If you tried to pull this stunt anywhere else, I'd have you hung by your pointed ears! Do you even know how many humans would kidnap and enslave you for the chance of an intelligent goblin slave?" Huron raised his hand as he noticed the Storyteller shifting in his seat.

"You lot are all very lucky, I knew where you were headed and don't think for a second, I didn't notice my ring of greater invisibility missing young lady." Glimmer grinned guiltily. "Everyone out! Go bother the Barkeep for a bit. I need to have a chat with my old friend." Huron smiled towards the Storyteller. "We have some catching up to do."
youtube.com/shorts/mSEU0eOs8Uc?si=5vS…

This might not be anything new to anyone but considering the the RP. I feel like this is good humor.
@erosSense Bravissimo! A marvelous tale.
"Magnus!"

The Storyteller's eyes widen at hearing his actual name as he turned around putting his mug on the table. His hazel eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on a burly man. He was sporting a crimson buzz cut hair style and his face and exposed chest were both marred in scars and yet clearly defined.

"Do my old eyes deceive me?" The Storyteller blinked with a big grin.

"Samson?"

Samson grinned as he lumbered towards the Storyteller. His massive silver pauldrons requiring many in the tavern to give him ample space. Underneath each of them was a white cloth with a blazing sun on it. Flowing behind Samson was a similar white cape that likewise had a massive sun on it.

"It has been too long my friend. " Samson said as his armored hand grasped the Storytellers shoulder.

"Last time I saw you, you were barely up to my knees, and you've already become a Sun?!" He exclaimed noticing the emblem on his cape. "What of Sonne I truly desire to speak with him." A sad smile crossed Samson's face.

"Thats actually why I am here Magnus." Samson looked down. "I...I don't feel like I deserve this title." The Storyteller beckoned to the barkeep to bring them both new drinks as he embraced Samson. "It'll be alright Lad. Tell me what happened." He could already tell it would not be good news as he could see the start of tears in Samson's eyes.

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Our world got visited by a massive dungeon. It was a tower so tall that it disappeared into the clouds, it dwarfed our tallest mountains. A mud golem exited the door from it and spoke with mana amplifying its voice so our entire world heard it, that if the tower was not conquered within two months it would overrun the world until nothing was left, but if it was conquered those who reached the top would have enough riches to rule the entire world.

Many brave adventurers, Knights, royals, and even monsters attempted that tower, but seldom did anyone ever return from it. They spoke of shadow creatures and various golems that inhabited its floors. As time ticked down the princess of my kingdom. Helen took the kings own personal men. The blazing guard into that tower.

They pushed, they climbed, they conquered, and they bleed. Many good men and women were lost, but they soared higher than any others had ever dreamed to achieve in that cursed tower because of the magic of Helen and the magic swordsmanship of Sonne. In the end they ran out of time. The magic that kept everything restrained to its own floor crumbled and hordes upon hordes of monsters began to charge downward eventually reaching Helen and Sonne.

Sonne struck the side of the tower blowing out the entire wall of the tower and tossed a screaming and crying Helen out of the tower and sent out what was left of his men to protect her. He knew her cloak was enchanted with slow fall, and she'd land unharmed eventually and his men would find a way to be fine.

Sonne turned to face the tidal wave of shadow creatures. His long crimson hair was beginning to ignite. His breath coming out as hot steam. The sun on his cloak was replaced by a blazing hot ball of fire at his back as his power manifested. The ball continued to grow in size until it was wider than Sonne. The heat from it scorched all the cloth from Sonne leaving him in a glowing iridescent armor. His long Nodachi coming into view as the blade itself exploded into a white-hot flame.

Sonne smiled as his thoughts echoed the kingdom wherever he might be found as steam hissed out from his mouth.

"Here comes the sun."

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"He didn't make it out of the tower." Samsons face was downcast, but a weak smile crossed his lips.

"Nothing else did either. In fact, the entire tower crumbled and turned to ash" The young man took a big swig of drink. "I don't even have half of the power that Sonne had. How am I going to protect the Kingdom like he did?"

The Storyteller was silent for a moment as he mulled over what to say and processing the loss of Sonne. In the end he just hugged Samson trying to give him some solace like a grandfather would a grandchild. "You will find your way."
Torrential rain was pouring over the dark landscape. The only light was when the lightening flashed. Illuminating a dark castle on the hill. The ancient castle was old, far older than the large forest that grew below it. Though the castle showed signs of disrepair, it could not hide the elegance that had been there in centuries past. A tattered and faded banner blew about in the raging winds of the storm, the last of its kind. None could even see what had once been upon it.

Most of the wooden doors had long since rotted away allowing the wind to whip through the castle interior. In some spots rain puddles could be seen, most things of value had long since been looted. The only thing of interest was in the castles throne room. In the throne room sat nine total thrones. Eight of them though majestic and large were dwarfed in comparison to the one that sat in the middle. Each seemed to be sculpted of pure white marble and each throne was occupied, save for the largest in the middle.

Occupied by a statue. Each statue was different. Some resembled men, others humanoid creatures. One statue found itself conscious, though it was like it was deep in a quagmire and unable to move. It's eyes barely able to make sense of what was in its line of vision as it could not blink to focus, nor could it see what was beyond its field of vision. It noticed one of the statues farthest away from itself beginning to awake. Breaking free of the stone that had encased it. The humanoid with obsidian skin and magnificent stag antlers shook itself.

The Stag's expression was solemn as he glanced at each of the statues before turning to face the paralyzed one. It looked towards the empty throne and a sad sigh escaped his lips as it left the throne room, and the paralyzed statue lost consciousness. Its mind seemed to float between periods of lucidness and a bizarre haze where despite its eyes being wide open it would see nothing. Every time it regained itself, it would notice time had passed and another statue was missing.

What did it all mean? Why could it not remember why the throne room was slowly emptying itself?

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The Storyteller stopped his tale as a guard barged into the Stone Rose Tavern issuing an alert that all adventurers were urgently needed at the walls. A large warband of orcs were on the horizon and the city guard were hard pressed to fight such a number by themselves. As several of the adventurers left dropping coins before the Storyteller. He assured them he would wait for them to return.

He raised his mug and drank from it greedily. How he wished he could be on the front lines again, but his stamina wasn't what it used to be.
Do I spy a bump?
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