Ancient Domains Of Mystery, forum overview / Stories / Adom YaSD stories
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AnonPoster Unregistered user |
Thanks. Making fun of a persons horrible death is easier than I thought. ;) |
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Möwe Registered user Last page view: 6608 days, 23 hours, 52 minutes and 23 seconds ago. |
AnonPoster: Good idea to keep the thread alive. I like it a lot. And your stories were really good. >> Then, it suddenly occured to Jarnicol that, despite his 99 learning, he had no knowledge of basic geometry whatsoever. Great sentence. I'll also contribute a bit. |
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Möwe Registered user Last page view: 6608 days, 23 hours, 52 minutes and 23 seconds ago. |
The sad death of HahaKobold: A story of a tragic misunderstanding. Hocen, the babarian from the rough lands in the north, travelled a wood in Drakalor Chain. It had been long since he last saw a humanoid creature and even longer since he talked with one. But on this sunny day he saw a stranger at the side of a little river washing his wounds. His clothes were torn and bloodied. Hocen tried his rusty voice: "Greetings, fellow warrior. I'm Hocen, the barbarian. Whence do you come from? And whither do you go? What is your name?" The stranger looked up, a long slash went over his right cheek. A mad grin spread on his face. He grabbed his weapons and ran towards Hocen, arms wide spread and yelling: "Haha, kobold." Before Hocen could make sense of his words, the hammer in the stranger's left hand hit him in the head, the sword in his right hand slashed against Hocen's leg, and his arms were pinned to his sides in the grip of the stranger. Furious, Hocen pushed the madman away, drawing his sword. "Are you blind? I am no kobold!" His sword went cleanly into the madman's stomach, who sank slowly to the ground. The stranger coughed a little blood and weakly said something. Hocen bent down to listen. "... It is ... my name. HahaKobold. ... I was just happy to see you ..." His head fell limp to the side. Hocen closed gently the eyes of the stranger and said: "Hm, I'm sorry. You should have been more careful." He shrugged and went to search through the stranger's belongings, mumbling under his breath: "What a stupid name." |
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Some guy Registered user I'm baaaack. Last page view: 5603 days, 16 hours, 20 minutes and 28 seconds ago. |
I should be writing a research paper right now, which makes writing something else much easier. I'm going to give this a try with one of my own characters I lost a while ago. Jewgard descended the stairs, and felt excitement. Experience had taught him that this was not just a mood, but a premonition. Soon, he would possess more treasure and more power than ever before! Despite his diminutive stature, and the colossal pack which would occasionally upset his balance, he knew he could destroy anything he would encounter. Jewgard had lived a normal life with loving parents, and had always been appreciated by all who knew him. When he made his decision to travel to the famed Drakalor mountains upon hearing strange news, his family trusted him with their most precious heirloom, boots that had belonged to a great adventurer, many generations past. But when Jewgard first arrived at the entrance of the great valley, a faint glimmer of chaos touched him. This should only have been a warning of what was to come, but it had a profound effect on Jewgard. Perhaps channeled to his mind through the bewitched ring trapped on his hand, a strange desire filled him, as if something, somewhere, was calling him to consider other options. Upon arriving at a town, Jewgard found his faithful dog would only hold him down. "Useless dog," he spat, "stay here and never follow me again!" Shocked, the dog somehow understood, turned away, and hoped that a nice child here would appreciate the company a dog can give. Jewgard noticed a small boy wandering near the edge of town, and gently pushed him farther from nearby eyes. "Would you like to hear a story, told just for you?" The boy immediately looked interested, tired from walking in eight directions, and followed willingly. The two of them stopped beneath a nearby grove of trees. Jewgard sat down, pulled out his glockenspiel, and began strumming a tune. He played for some time. "Weren't you going to tell me a story?" the boy asked, beginning to fidget restlessly. The bard stopped playing and said, slowly, "I'm afraid I only have a moral for you today." Jewgard leaped up and grasped the boy around the head, so that he couldn't even scream. "Be careful who you trust." His sword stained red, and despite a shopkeeper's best efforts, could never be washed clean again. Jewgard continued on, gaining strength and equipment, and only helping others when it furthered his own twisted cause. And now, he found himself at the entrance to a great room, where a silent cacophany of red dragons were gathered. Mere nuisances, he thought, and replaced his equipment with some made of hardier materials. He ran towards the coming fray, attracting as much attention as he could, and drove his spear through the head of a baby dragon. The poor thing had no time to defend itself, and its life was cut several thousand years short. Jewgard continued his rampage through a path around the central chamber, until the only dragons that still burned within were in the room with their leader. These dragons all looked towards the wyrm, hoping that their champion could save them all, but still ready to go to their deaths defending him. Alas, every dragon that faced Jewgard faced nothing else ever again, his shining spear infused with his strength and hate. When the flood of dragons stopped its flow, Jewgard entered the chamber, and saw that nothing still stood except for the unpronouncable king and his two eldest advisors, and what appeared to be a floating eye. What an odd choice for a pet, Jewgard thought. Perhaps it has some greater significance, in which case these burning beasts won't want to see it die! Jewgard chuckled and reached for his belt. Upon finding nothing there, he remembered he had placed his bow in his pack earlier. He remembered he had found a sling of superb quality which appeared to be immune to fire, and his race was famous for its skill in the area of rock launching, but why bother hauling that out of his bag now? It would be rather anticlimactic. Jewgard slowly walked towards the last wyrms, and casually swung his polearm towards the eye, certain that its existance would be instantly negated. Perhaps if Jewgard had kept his gaze focussed on the wyrm, the dragons' last moments would have been appropriately full of desperate appeals to draconic dieties. But, he turned his view to where his spear was headed. He always enjoyed seeing a variety of fluids emerge from his victims, so he continued to look out of habit. Perhaps he looked too late, because this agile eyeball had seen his attack coming and moved to avoid it. But whatever the reason, Jewgard was now staring directly into the unblinking orb, mere feet away. Every unsettling emotion that eyes can cause flooded through the halfling's mind, and the world in front of him vanished away. He could think of nothing but how the little boy's eyes looked when the boy realized he was doomed. Suddenly and strangely, he saw what the boy had seen, a moment before it was all over. He felt what the boy had felt. A hairy palm held him hard and fast, all his struggles were in vain. A sword kissed his neck, and his world faded to black. Wow, I'm such a geek, I can't believe I wrote this. It sure ran long. And needless to say, I haven't gotten any homework done in this past hour. The following is a real Adom message: The homunculus hits you. You suddenly fall asleep! Do you want to continue to read the spellbook of Calm Monster? [y/N] |
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Möwe Registered user Last page view: 6608 days, 23 hours, 52 minutes and 23 seconds ago. |
Nice story, SomeGuy. Jewgard certainly deserved what happened to him. :) The sad story of the tragic death of a promising drakeling mindcrafter (not a funny story): Impenetrable darkness surrounded him. In Ssarr's mind only one single thought was left: I have to get out, I have to get out... His legs were stiff, each step was forced by sheer willpower. It was so cold. His body had not taken any damage from the ice bolts that Nuurag-Vaarn had shot at him, but still the cold was freezing him. A fireball exploded under him as he tripped on a loose stone. He almost welcomed the burst of heat. I have to get out, I have to get out... His next step ended in empty air, painfully he hit the bottom of a pit. He pulled himself out of the hole and continued his blind flight. A light flared up for a short moment hurting his wide open eyes. Behind him he could hear unhurried steps and mad laughter. The wizard. He was too close. Ssarr felt something chilling pass through his body that felt like death. Only the warmth radiating from the amulet around his neck helped him not to pass out. He hardly noticed the stone block that hit his head. If he could at least see something. But he could not exchange the amulet, and how the wizards made light he had never been able to understand. Anyway, no power was left in him. An alarm rang as he hit another loose stone and a moment later an arrow penetrated his armor. Another spell hit him in the back. This one brought him down to his knees. Not willing to give up he struggled back to his feet and dragged himself forward. Burning acid drained him and again the deathly ray hit. His panicked thoughts gave way to a sea of calmness. He did not feel his body hitting the ground anymore. |
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Some guy Registered user I'm baaaack. Last page view: 5603 days, 16 hours, 20 minutes and 28 seconds ago. |
Nice story to you too, Mowe. I know it's nice having your stories responded to. As difficult a sacrifice as it is, sometimes you just have to wear a torch instead of an orb. The following is a real Adom message: The homunculus hits you. You suddenly fall asleep! Do you want to continue to read the spellbook of Calm Monster? [y/N] |
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Möwe Registered user Last page view: 6608 days, 23 hours, 52 minutes and 23 seconds ago. |
Yeah, a torch would have been nice. Sadly, Ssarr didn't have the necessary equipment to light a torch. The sudden death of a L50 dark elven mindcrafter coming up from the library: Gorina fled along the tunnels. A monster was loose in the dungeons, it had even killed the great Arraxas. Horrified, Gorina had watched the scene from her hiding place behind a stone next to the doorway. She cowered there unable to move as the heavily armoured creature, of which she could see nothing but a patch of black skin on his neck, drove his blood-red weapon through Arraxas' breast scales, then lifted the many times larger dragon above his head and flung him to the side. Arraxas crashed into the wall and didn't stir anymore. Then the killer sorted through Arraxas' treasure only taking the shining silver bracers. The rest of the fine things he just threw bored aside. He even pulled some weapons and other things from his own enormous pack and threw them on top of the pile. He sat down, took off his helmet, now Gorina could see, that it was a dark elf, and took out a book with weird signs on the cover and skimmed through the pages. Gorina pondered her chances of staying hidden and getting some of the dragon's stuff once the awful elf had left, when she heard a noise from the other door. Oh no, it was Rako, the shaman of her tribe. She wanted to warn him, but it was too late. The dark elf looked up at Rako and didn't even move a finger, but Rako just dropped dead. Then the elf turned his head and looked directly at the spot where Gorina was hidden. She jumped up and ran, as fast as she could, dove through the legs of a stone giant, and ran and ran and ran. Finally she came to a halt breathing heavily. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a big armoured figure holding a sword. She jumped. ... Hhuhh, only a statue. There, in the back, another one ... and a stone dog to her left ... and a little stone spider here on the wall. Oh no, where had she come to? This had to be the Tunnels-that-must-be-avoided. Today was definitely not a good day. She walked carefully back. Ah yes, here were the warning signs on the wall, she was back in known territory. She let out a relieved sigh ... just before she heard wood splintering and bloodcurdling screams from the end of the corridor before her. Panic surged up in her again, she turned around and fled back into the Tunnels-that-must-be-avoided. Some shiny metal thing caught her eye. Hmm, a nice amulet with a broken silver chain, someone must have lost it. After she had knotted the chain together it was still big enough to fit over her head. It looked pretty on her green skin. A scream from behind her pulled her out of her vain thoughts. There was the monster elf, coming quickly closer. Gorina fled around a corner and stopped dead at the sight of another monster, huge and ugly, like a big bull with horns, iron scales covering his skin. That was surely the end. She dropped to her knees and pleaded shivering for her life. She was not even sure if the bull monster could understand her. It just made mooing screeching noises, his breath was horrible, soon a black cloud surrounded her. She didn't dare to move. The dark elf was now coming around the corner, he was just one step behind her and she awaited the deadly blow. But nothing happened. Some moments later the bull turned around and walked away, from behind her she could hear nothing. Long moments later she finally dared to turn around. There was the dark elf, unmoving, turned to stone. "Thank you, great and mighty bull God", she called after the ugly monster. She kicked the statue of the elf in the shin and ran back home, sure to be the center of attention tonight with her story. |
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Some guy Registered user I'm baaaack. Last page view: 5603 days, 16 hours, 20 minutes and 28 seconds ago. |
Interesting story, but I can't quite figure out what killed your character. A gorgon in the dark? The following is a real Adom message: The homunculus hits you. You suddenly fall asleep! Do you want to continue to read the spellbook of Calm Monster? [y/N] |
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Möwe Unregistered user |
Yepp. A gorgon. It wasn't my character. Just the reponse to one of the deaths posted on the first page. There are still a few left that have to be made into stories. Pick one and write a story :) |
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Some guy Registered user I'm baaaack. Last page view: 5603 days, 16 hours, 20 minutes and 28 seconds ago. |
Well, I'm supposed to be doing homework again, which seems the easiest time to write a story, but without having played and lost the character personally, I don't really have the right feel for it. The following is a real Adom message: The homunculus hits you. You suddenly fall asleep! Do you want to continue to read the spellbook of Calm Monster? [y/N] |
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AnonPoster Unregistered user |
I've been bogged down in work, ut I'll see if I can do a story tomorrow. |
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Jetman123 Unregistered user |
As the giant ant clicked menacingly fowards along the stone floor, Dan the Fighter retreated back to the back of the room, bleeding and injured. He quickly applied his skills in first aid and stopped the blood loss, and then turned his attention to how he was going to get out of this one. He'd never be able to take on that warrior in his weakened state - what had gotten him to it in the first place was trying to fight three of them. Their chitin was just too hard to pierce without a lucky strike, and those pincers could carve a being apart. There had to be something he had that would give him a fighting chance. Scrolls? No, nothing there. Weapons? Nothing that would do any better against that ant than his broadsword had worked. Armor? No, he was already wearing the best set he had. Potions? Nothing but some carrot juice and water. Wands? Dan's eyes lit up as he flicked the wand he had picked up earlier out of his backpack. With any luck, this would at the very least distract the ant, whatever effect it happened to have - Dan hadn't had a chance to identify it. He breifly considered maybe making a run for the stairs, just a room distant with the way clear, but quickly tossed the odds away as being better with using the wand. He raised the wand and aimed it at the menacing shape of the ant as it drew ever nearer... The wand buzzed for a short moment just as the ant reached Dan. *CLICK* Dan, the human fighter, was roasted alive in a firey explosion. |
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