seen from Ireland
seen from Sri Lanka
seen from Germany
seen from Philippines
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from China
seen from Türkiye
seen from France
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Australia
seen from Australia
seen from Australia
seen from Australia
seen from Russia
seen from Australia
seen from Australia
I know I just did this poll but I'm redoing it because I only have like 30 voters last time
What the hell is bad dog shit poll
pick your poison
whb Kings play Minecraft with you on a server
Whb Kings at the amusement park
Quest Poll✨
Re-roll!
Ok, since the last poll was badly worded? And I was writing it with derp brain… and it ended in a weird tie.
Imma do it again. This time? Better worded. Hopefully… still got derp brain.
I’ll try not to do this that often, since it’s really cheating. And takes up lot of time.
What to do with the lamb?
Call for help
Scoop the lamb up and continue on your way
Go back to the cabin to check for supplies
Go back to the cabin, but bring the lamb
Walk away and try not to think about this
Ok, and since I’m still being derpy brained? I’ll explain the options where I don’t have a text limit. Cause that + derp = I crash and burn XD
Call for help: You haven’t tried to make sounds yet. So far Sweeps has been a silent protagonist, and you aren’t even sure anyone is around. So this option has a lot of risk, but possibly a high reward? But will the person who helps be good? And will the lamb last long enough?
Scoop the lamp up and continue on your way: Pick up the small sheep, and keep walking down the path. Maybe you’ll find a river and a town? Or maybe you’ll get ambushed? Who knows really. But you can’t stay there.
Go back to the cabin to check for supplies: thiiiis one is a trap. Yeah sorry. I’m evil. This means you leave the lamb in the meadow, and walk back. But Sweeps took a few hours to get to where they are even now. So it’d be double that getting here and back. Meanwhile the lamb is defenseless, and injured. Sweeps might come back to find it not even there, taken by another predator. This world isn’t a nice one, unfortunately.
Go back to the cabin, but bring the lamb: this one is the nicer version of the one above? But I’ll rat on myself. There’s nothing in the cabin. It’s been busted for years. If y’all wanna look around in there, I can make other opportunities to do that! But right now, if y’all wanna lil sheep friend you’re gonna have to focus on that. It’s more the option to bring the sheep on a different path with you. But idk if the others will have the supplies you need. (Ok I do but I already tattled enough. Lol)
Walk away and try not to think about this: “Look at what I made! … I gave it depression!” Cause I like that joke. Yeah Sweeps will be devastating over harming the sheep, and not be able to cope with anything. Then run down the path. Well, as much as a big robot whose all rusted and overgrown can. But yeah, probably don’t wanna pick this one. I do tend to throw in joke options or “LOL! I gave it depression” options as a “let the author pick” kinda route. That’s what this is.
Ok that’s all of them. Sorry about the exposition dump. Derp brain is a killer, man. I’ll only do these when I get ties, and usually just between the two tied options. But since this is the first I figured I’d do them all. To give y’all an insight behind the curtain.
And again, I’m gonna do this as little as possible. Cause it’s definitely cheating on my part. This story is me learning how to write, just get things out there. Cause I can’t edit polls? It adds a level of finality to it. And I know I’m not the best, but hopefully I’m alright at least.
Anyway, if y’all wanna vote in a real thing? Check out my YouTube channel’s community page! I’m doing the same thing over there. It’s a few days behind though cause I can’t keep it as close to daily as on here. So far we’ve names the Bot Sweeps again. Which makes me think y’all already know about it lol. But if you wanna take a different path? I’m up for writing two stories at once! Let’s see what happens!
My players are expecting a religious war but this is a full on psychological warfare baby and ain't nobody escaping this ride
"uhm no you can re-roll that, frat boy"
The homebrew rat-man in my campaign who got the lucky feat to our DM who was just tryna throw a creepy reality ruining god at us.
reroll! meeting Bertram for the first time. ((could be in the same place and time, in the past when-where ever))
I ran directly into - somebody - as I rounded the corner, and it knocked the air from my lungs entirely.
Not that I was using it for anything.
“Greetings,” I blurted, regaining my feet again - he still stood, a little more sure-footed than I had been, it seemed. Well, he wasn’t being pursued I suppose, so that made sense...
“I was out for a bracing tour of the gardens,” I grinned to him, waving my hand slightly off to the side and to the moonlit sky, “I apologize for not seeing you there. My deepest regrets for our collision.”
I could hear the guards rattling in the hallway, armour and sabres clattering, but I let no concern into my voice, and maintained an easygoing air.
“I suppose I shall continue on my way - good eve’n to you, fair sir.”
There had been something in his eyes, which had drawn my attention - my interest - but I thought little of it immediately. However, when his hand shot out and grasped my arm - the arm which actually held the jewel within my pocket - firmly, but not harshly, I looked to his eyes again, and there was that little sparkle again.
Mischief, perhaps?
I glanced off to the side, toward the guards, and then grinned to him. “Okay...you caught me - but I promise you, they stole it from me first.”
Re-roll
Here eyes snapped open when she heard a noise in the room, and she sat bolt upright on the little sad burlap-and-hay excuse for a sleeping area they had her on. “Who goes there?”
I held my response at first, trying to simply memorize her voice, then whispered in the near-darkness, “Jean.”
She flew to the bars, eyes searching the shadows, “Andiemme - how have you come? What are you doing here?”
I stepped forward, slowly reaching out a hand to lay overtop of hers. I could see right through my own - so could she. The Invisibility potion would last a fair while longer. She gasped at my touch, then looked on roughly the direction of my face, though her eyes of course couldn’t really focus on me.
“I- Gilles sends his regrets with me, and his love,” I nodded, “but he couldn’t make it.”
She dipped her chin, and squeezed my hand - firmly. She had always been good at making special efforts for me. “It is kind of him, and of you, but I-”
I interrupted her with a slight smile, “I know, you go with God - go to Him. We do not worry for you, dear one, nor for ourselves.”
She let out a sigh, heavy with relief, and I could see the moonlight glinting off of a single tear. Something I could never give her - could never give either of them. I could tell she was ill at ease.
“Even Jesus doubted, my love. It is alright,” I murmured, leaning my forehead against the bars, and she must have heard it, must have known somehow, because she did the same. The tips of our noses touched, and her tear dripped from my face.
“Thank you,” she said, after a moment, in a hoarse whisper. “Let us pray together, shall we?”
I nodded, and sank to my knees as she did. We clasped two of our hands, and the other we held to the air - for Gilles, and for the Trinity. “Our Father,” we intoned as one, softly into the moon-touched shadows of her cell, “Hallowed be Thy name...”
Her execution - some might have called horrific, but it was not. She stood proudly, chin high, head unbowed entirely, as the flames lapped around her and she went to Him. Pain is only temporary, pain is only mortal - as perhaps I knew better than most on this Earth.
Gilles did struggle a little bit, from time to time, after that. It was hard on him, losing her, and hard on me as well - but that was the folly of mortality. Jean did not miss us - she feasted in Heaven, with the Father and the Host. It was only Gilles who truly suffered, Gilles who needed to wait - and perhaps, a little bit myself as well.
In time, he recovered some, alongside me, and we made it through, made it along. We became officially married even, at one point, to ward off the fathers who hounded him with their daughters on bent knee - myself using a fake name, of course.
I had quite a good time as Marcelyne De Rais, yes, and thought of Jean often - we both did - and we prayed to her every night, spoke her name at our meals, when we held each other by the fireside.
Then, one morning, I awoke to find him gone as well, and a corpse in his place. I became a widow, officially, and in time became only a legend, a woman who had faded away into nothingness in her estate.
They couldn’t know, of course, the world - couldn’t know any of it.
Yet, still, every night I said their names both, and every time I found myself by a fireside, and with every person I helped lift from bent knee to stand against those that would bow their heads by force or else remove them.
And I continued my waiting.
They had each other now, in good company - and in time, I would join them.
A hundred years, a thousand, a million - I would wait for that trumpet’s sound, and when the horns of Judgement Day rang, I would face the brightened skies with a smile and a light (albeit cold) heart, and I knew my place was assured.
As hers had been, as his had been, as mine would be as well.
On Earth, as it is in Heaven.
Amen.
Reroll!!
He would have preferred to stride in.
It would very much have been befitting - but then, of course, he would need to be standing, and that would weaken his bargaining position more than the impression would have strengthened it.
So, he merely thumbed the little knob forward and the electric wheelchair glided, silently, as he let his head slump to one side. An entirely undignified posture, of course - and entirely at odds with the crisp, clean, pressed, four-button three-piece in which he’d dressed himself that morning.
Of course, the official story was that his carer had dressed him.
After all, Kai couldn’t move since the accident - since the truck had knocked his car off the road.
He didn’t let even a hint of the smirk to his lips. He’d spent hours in front of mirrors practicing this, practicing the paralysis act.
One point five million - a paltry one point five, they’d offered him. Week-long coma, car totalled - job lost due to the coma - surgeries required, and of course, with a coma always came the risk of brain damage, and they had offered him that?
Insulting. Simply insulting.
He’d declined swiftly after waking from the coma - the doctors had been worried that might happen. It did sometimes, after all, and Kai had sent them an anonymous basket of flowers for the inspiration they’d provided in warning his parents about the possibility of a downturn in his condition.
Oh, how he wanted to grin - as the guards held the oak doors wide for him and he hummed in, in his chair - how he wanted to grin and stride and make them look like fools, and take them for everything they’d had.
They’d insulted him with that offer, the trucking company - and he’d ensure they paid for it. Through the nose.
His eyes - the one part other than his thumb he maintained full control over, the doctors had explained - flicked over to his dad, sitting at the bench, who smiled back. He was so worried about his son - but Kai knew he’d be fine, when a certain experimental surgery in Columbia restored his son to full motion, removed every hint of paralysis.
There was no surgery, of course - no clinic at all - but Columbia did have some nice resorts, and Kai had to start spending this company’s money somewhere.
They’d insulted him with that offer, after all - he simply couldn’t let that stand.
He bumped into the opposing bench, intentionally, causing a bit of a ruckus and poking at the speech-pad with his thumb. “Sorry.” The mechanical voice resonated through the legal chambers.
It was quite a hearing - quite a spectacle. Kai had made sure word got out a few ways, a few places, so there was quite an interested group in attendance, and press as well. They listened raptly as he slowly, mechanically, electronically stammered his way through an explanation of the accident and all that had happened since.
All lies, of course - or practically all - but what did that matter?
They’d insulted him.
He simply couldn’t let that lie, so he’d lie instead - and he did, and oh so well. He even shit himself at one point on the witness stand. After all, the doctors had explained he’d lose bowel control - and it would really drum up sympathy for his situation.
He ended up rolling out of the chambers - not that day, mind you - with more than ten times their initial offer...and that was just in the up-front sum. He got a stipend as well.
A few weeks later, after ‘discovering’ the experimental treatment center in Columbia, he was at the airport, being loaded onto a chartered Gulfstream, in a different suit this time - lighter and without the vest or tie, much more befitting his destination. The press were here, with camera flashing and rolling, and his machine toned out a “Thank you all. Good. Bye.” as they hoisted him up and in, leaving the wheelchair behind.
There would be no press on the other side - and as soon as the cabin door closed, Kai stood with a sigh, cracking his neck and sweeping a hand through his short-cropped hair, shooting a wink to one of the two attendants on the flight. He’d paid them well - and had hogtied them six ways to Sunday with nondisclosure agreements. If either of them ever spoke about this, he’d get every penny they earned from breaking the story.
Columbia was nice - and for the first few weeks, he even enjoyed the resort. Recorded a grainy webcam statement, lying dishevelled in bed, with his real voice (albeit a little rough and wobbly from a few dozen tequila shots from - oh what had her name been, anyway...Raquel? Melina? Something. it didn’t matter.) stating that the doctors expected a full recovery. A few days later, a picture of him on some serious crutches, taking shaky-looking steps on to the beach, flanked by two nurses.
Well, they were wearing nurses’ uniforms at least - although Kai was quite certain that real nurse uniforms didn’t tear away quite that easily when the music came on and he settled back against the sands to enjoy the show.
A full recovery - a miraculous recovery, even - although, of course, one which couldn’t be guaranteed. The clinic very strenuously stated that, everywhere they could. Results not guaranteed.
Didn’t stop over a thousand applicants from trying to get on the very short - very exclusive - very expensive waiting list.
And Kai highly doubted that the IRS would ever be able to dig through enough of the shell corporations to find out that he owned the clinic part and parcel, and doubted that anybody would be able to find out how the records had been faked and backdated to make it look as if the clinic had existed decades before Kai showed up on Columbia’s shores, rather than two weeks afterwards when he’d gotten around to purchasing the lot and arranging for some refurbishments.
Yes, Columbia was nice - had been nice - and so had been...whatever their names were. Melina and Jacob and Harley and - he didn’t bother keeping track, it didn’t matter anyway.
It had all been nice...
Had.
Past tense.
Now, as Kai stepped back onto a plane - this time, one he’d purchased, and a much newer and nicer model than the one which had brought him here - he was feeling quite done with Columbia. The clinic would go on, earning quite a lot of money, and that was nice and all...
...but he’d heard there was a company in Russia which built yachts so large, you could dock smaller yachts inside them.
That, yes, that would hold Kai’s attentiong for...
...well, for probably at least a few months.
By then he would have found something else, he was certain.
Reroll! D is for...
I turned, catching sight of him coming toward me. “T-Thomas!” I gasped, my heart leaping in my chest, and I couldn’t decide if it was painful or pleasant, if I loved it or hated it.
If I loved or hated him.
He came up close - so close - and my hands- her hands- reached out for him, my breath - her breath - quickening, and my - I - what even was-
“I-I,” I stammered, my heart and lungs conspiring to prevent me from speech. “N- T-Thomas, I- there- it-”
He leaned toward me to kiss my neck and I dodged as my voice did a strange, squealy thing, and my heart did a jumping, hammering thing, and my head - my head did a swirling thing, and my eyes, they did some thing where they started to see grey around the edges, and-
...and what could I do? I couldn’t - didn’t want to...to anger him, but - no, this - no.
“No, Thomas!” I cried, pushing against him and falling to the ground as my vision threatened to be overtaken entirely by grey. My muscles slumped, refusing to obey my commands at first, but I managed momentarily to look up at him. “Thomas, I am not her - Althea is - she is inside. Stay away, stay back, or I will- I- I will need to do something, and I don’t - don’t want-”
I couldn’t - couldn’t let this happen, no. Such an important thing, to steal away from her, no - he might get angry, he probably would - with me, maybe even with her - but it didn’t matter. None of that mattered - he deserved the truth, and she deserved this denial on my part as well.
Particularly on something so very important.
I knew what would happen if I said nothing - I knew what we would do, what anyone would do with him if they didn’t fight it, and I couldn’t do that to her, couldn’t do that with him - with anyone - it was too important.
“I’m- it’s Andiemme! Andiemme...des Montagnes...” My - her - voice weakened as my vision became grayed further but I fought to hold on. “We cannot, no! Just...let...let me...”
What was happening? Why was this body rebelling so? My breathing became so difficult I could barely manage it and I slumped entirely to the ground. “Stay...stay back...”
All the excitement, it would seem, had somewhat gone to my head - her head - and I was fairly sure I was losing consciousness.
“No, no,” I murmured, voice growing weaker as I faded, “no, can’t...don’t...”
