#ir sendme

[thestorycontinues]

Your muse has just stumbled across an abandoned building. Send me "...what IS this place?" and I'll tell you what it was and/or what it is now and/or whether or not it's dangerous!

[thestorycontinues]

Never your duty have you e’er neglected, E’en when your work has not been respected.Your muse is the main character of a gothic novel! Send me their profession, and I’ll write something about it.(WARNING: These stuff I write for the gothic novel send-mes are going to get increasingly… dramatic. Be prepared for adjectival abuse! And really, really bad writing.) Penelope Garcia and underground hacker

Having used her technological skills to re-wire the Enigmateria– compelling the device to send its information directly to the Rainfolk’s headquarters– Penelope slipped, silent and cautious, from the dark-shadowed room, praying that soon they would have what they needed to identify, once and for all, the dark leader of the Fallen– to identify, and to overthrow, and to secure once again the safety of Eralance and its people! But her heart ached with a deep, throbbing, painful ache, to know that her life-long friend, Derek Morgan, believed her to be nothing more than a foul criminal!

[thestorycontinues]

Law enforcement

His mother was a Queensguard, as was his mother’s father, and his mother’s father’s father, and so on and on throughout his family’s existence, and when the time came, Derek Morgan hesitated not to step up, and pledge himself to the service of his country, and do all he could to protect its people, regardless of rank or social standing.

But then he finds that a dear friend– a woman whom he feels may be his one true love– may belong to a criminal organization– or even, heaven forbid, even its driving force! Will he be forced to choose between Penelope Garcia, and the city of Eralance?

[thestorycontinues]

Never your duty have you e’er neglected, E’en when your work has not been respected.

Your muse is the main character of a gothic novel! Send me their profession, and I’ll write something about it.

(WARNING: These stuff I write for the gothic novel send-mes are going to get increasingly... dramatic. Be prepared for adjectival abuse! And really, really bad writing.)

[thestorycontinues]

Oh how exciting Blue for Derek Green for Mun

Birds sang, arcing overhead, and the sky was a brilliant blue– pure, untouched by clouds– the sun shining down with tender benevolence– and yet, Derek Morgan felt a sense of vague unease as the carriage approached Windholme Hall. It was foolish, he knew; the Garcias were well known in Terrazia for their benevolence, after all, and not a single complaint had ever been spoken by any of the Windholme’s staff. The only even slightly negative thing he had ever heard about them, was that their daughter Penelope, the heiress to the estate, was rather wild, choosing to read rather than socialize– and to socialize, rather than learn needlework– and to learn needlework rather than read the books given to her by the Reverend!

But that was no business of Derek’s; after all, he had been hired to escort Lady Garcia about the countryside as she carried out her latest project– to have a bridge constructed to span the River Cobalt, and make it easier for people to travel between the cities of Terrazia and Erasteria.

The sun still shone, the birds still sang– and as the carriage arrived at the front door of the beautiful Hall, again Derek felt a slight pang of worry.

He wondered: What might await him in the days and nights to come?

—

Mun’s story:

You carefully, carefully and quietly, as quietly as you can, slip down the great, spiraling stone staircase, desperate to leave this terrible house, its horrible owners, and its terrifying secrets. Even though you move slowly and silently as possible, every footstep seems to echo, betraying your movements, and every few minutes, you freeze, trembling– and in your left hand, you cling desperately to the steel blade, with the emeralds in its hilt catching what little light there is.

Only a few more flights to the ground floor, and you’re sure you can slip through the darkened halls and out the back of the house before anyone notices you. You’re sure you can do it– you have to do it– if you don’t–

No– no, you won’t let yourself think of that. You pause, catch your breath, and move on….

[thestorycontinues]

“So… where the hell am I?” (for Will?)

Suddenly, you’re standing on a road, roughly paved with stone. The sun is high above you, but the air is brisk. Trees rise all around you, their leaves varying shades of… blue.

Brilliant blue and pale blue, dark blue and light blue, some flat in color, others sparkling like sequins, and none of them like anything you’ve ever seen before.

A few feet ahead, you see a crossroad point, with a sign you can’t quite read from where you’re standing. You hurry to it, trying to figure out what’s going on– maybe this will help?

…nope. The sign gives directions: Hollicus, 35 fathm | Taniyah, 25 fathm | Mapleia, 20 fathm | Merrijah, 5 fathm

Well, that’s not much help. But you decide to head for Merrijah, figuring that it’s the closest city. Probably?

But you’re only on the road for a few minutes before hoofbeats sound behind you. You turn to see a six-legged lizard-horse-thing trotting towards you. A man with hair as blue as the leaves of the trees is on its back. He stops at your side, and smiles down at you.

“Well,” he says, “ye’re na’ from ‘round here, right?”

And as a half dozen or so giant bumblebees– the size of geese– zoom past you both, all you can do is nod.

[thestorycontinues]

"So.... where the hell am I?"

It isn’t being underwater that’s weird– it’s being underwater without being in a diving suit, or a submarine, or anything else.

Then your vision clears up a bit, and you realize that you’re not actually looking up through just water; the water is above you, separated from you by– glass? A glass ceiling? But it’s shimmering weirdly, like it isn’t glass at all, but… but light.

Dazed, you look aroun, and find yourself in the middle of… sort of a meadow. There’s grass, and trees, and flowers, and off in the distance, maybe a couple of miles away, you see a tower, shining in the sunlight, or whatever light it is that you’re under.

And a squirrel passes you. A squirrel in the air– only it isn’t flying, it looks like it’s… like it’s swimming. Except you’re not underwater!

Or maybe you are.

You look back at the tower, and something tells you that’s where you need to go for answers.

[thestorycontinues]

“So… where the hell am I?”

For just a moment, you think that nothing’s changed. You step out into the same busy street you walked down yesterday.

A woman walks by you, talking on her cellphone… with a small winged cat perched on her shoulder. (The cat is also wearing a very fancy, lacy collar.)

A car drives by, a car with no tires. It’s just… hovering. So are most of the other vehicles on the road. Nobody seems to think this is even slightly odd.

And then a giant shadow darkens the pavement. You look up– and a huge dragon glides by, making slow, lazy circles around the buildings. Nobody seems to think that’s even slightly odd, either. Everyone’s just going about their business. But every once in a while, you see something strange: a lavender-skinned man with two horns spiraling out of his skull; a child tossing what looks like a ball of fire into the air.

Well. It’s going to be an interesting day.