RPG Brevity Workshop

This is something a little different.

This is a completely open RPG thread. It doesn't belong to any universe, and anyone can write here, as any character. Got an old Prime alt you want to meet a CVnU'er? Want your original creation to interact with an established character? Go for it. Go nuts. This thread isn't about creating canon, it's about building a skill: being concise. Ever get bogged down because you feel like you're writing a novel with every post, and just wish you could crank out shorter, more rapid-fire entries? Here's where you can practice this.

Rules:

• Your first post in an interaction can be as long as it needs to be to establish the who, what, why, when and where (if that matters to you).
• Every other post in that interaction can be no more than three paragraphs, and these paragraphs can be no more than five sentences each.
• Basic RPG forum rules (no godmodding, no-selling, or autohitting, etc.) apply.
• That's it. Seriously. Try it. You might like it, and you might develop a skill that will help you in your other pursuits.

oh my god you heard my thoughts last night. I got the missus to create an account this is perfect

Is this like not a thing in 2019? God I'm getting old... Great thread!

Yesssssssss

Yeah you are

@soteria: ... Mercy?

@tranquil:

@soteria: *Rotates arms at the shoulder and leans his head from side to side with a half cocked grin.* Lets put this thread to some use. For old times sake. :P

Unlike his CVnU counterpart, Quintus' arrival at the monastery marks his first. His first visual investigation of the sacred grounds where his alternate reality counterpart studied at the feet of the esoteric martial masters. The aesthetics, ancient; well preserved. The atmosphere, heavy and weighted. Figuratively. Literally.

A journey marred by physical impairments. Too many battles. Too many wars. With no X-gene to elevate his rankings he should have never even made it this far. Yet his mind has remained fortified, strengthened by unwavering resolve. Impregnable to a fault.

Thus a new chapter begins. While an old universe silently waits for older justice to be carried out by even older vendetta.

@quintus_knightfall:

"All old, all the time," something echoed from the rocks.

"Don't you get bored of coming to these kinds of places? Wait... you're different aren't you?"

The shadows coalesced, and from their coagulated mass came a pale man in a lavender three-piece suit. He had a wide smile on his face.

"Hello! Hello."

@thisisgonnahurt:

*Dammit. How the &^%!* the aged crime fighter quickly thought. Few and far were the times in which he had been caught off guard. Masking the disappointment of muted senses Quintus glared over his shoulder, gaze sharpened to razor thin slits of aggressive suspicion as he subconsciously took measure of the moment.

"Different...you know me? Ah....the 'other' me, right?" Stoically addressing the man while quietly prepared to break him down if need be. Something about this...this carnival showman's smile just...just wasnt right.

@quintus_knightfall:

"Perhaps. Here at a nexus it sort of blends together sometimes. I have a friend who you remind me of," a noise emerged from his throat, though it didn't seem human.

After a brief second of its dominance, it became apparent that the audial gesture was a laugh, for lack of a better term. It trickled down into a low grumble and then he spoke again.

"Of course, he doesn't know I'm his friend yet. Haven't really talked to him all that much. But I'm talking to you now, so that's enough. You want to hear a joke?"

He stepped forward, closer, the horror of his unnaturally thin biology creeping along as he twitched his lithe fingers towards Quintus in a manner similar to a handshake - or a lunge for his throat.

Behind him about twenty feet or so, something fell down from an undetermined distance in the air. A fleshy thump in the snow and on the stone. Vaguely human-sized, by the sound of the acoustics.

@thisisgonnahurt:

Right foot left shoulder. Left foot right shoulder. Unapologetic in its very essence, the revolutionary of Reality-M's squared frame moved past the outstretched gesture with preoccupied focus and inquiry. Alert but relaxed. Vigilant, yet smooth and seamless.

"What was that?" Somewhat rhetorical. Quintus, for better or worse, felt dialed in on the situation. Not from some heightened forensic disposition, but rather his own jaded perspectives pertaining to the area of trust and its arena of danger. Trust was a virus, he had learned this the hard way. Perhaps the hardest of ways. Only instincts could be taken at immediate face value. 'His' instincts at least.

Yet with his cowl pulled back and draped around the shoulders the technological enhancements contained within were of little use, in the moment.

Moving closer to the arresting shadows Quintus repeated himself. "What. Was. That."

@quintus_knightfall:

Slow, deliberate. The definition of a calm and cold atmosphere, the fog of war neither dissipating nor relenting. Temple or not, this place had been haunted by the Heathen for a long while - be that a few moments or an eternity. He looped his arm around Quintus' broad shoulders.

"What was what?" he smirked, feigning ignorance.

Wherever his new friend looked, he would find nothing but the temple grounds. Abandoned. Empty. Bereft of even the slightest breeze, stagnant and suffocating. The Smiling Man put his hand on Quintus' chest, half-reassuringly but overwhelmingly something else. A host to a panicked guest? Most likely.

"You're imagining things," he stepped away from his visitor. Each long, drawn-out gesture of his exaggerated pace carried him deeper into the... ballroom. Dimly-lit, extravagant. They had been lost in the mountains for their introduction but somehow they... they had always been here as well. If Quintus would look around, he would find the baroque architecture of kings and queens solidified in all directions.

"But on to my joke," Heathen continued without skipping a beat. He seemed ultimately responsible for this change of scenery. Or maybe he was bringing them back to reality? Something for Quintus to discover.

"There was a boy who lived in Germany,"

A noise from an adjacent room, probably nothing.

"They called him 'Bratwurst Christoff', because his father made the best sausages in town. But he was part of a poor family. His mother left and his sister died of measles,"

He tapped something in his hand. He was holding an empty wine glass.

"Sadly, Christoff died one day. His father opens shop after a bereavement period and everyone loves his new recipe for sausage,"

Setting it down on the table, it was full.

"He says 'I have Christoff to thank for it'!"

The 'comedian' clapped his hands together, hoarsely keeping his chuckling inside before exploding into a chorus of horrifying laughter. The walls echoed with the disturbing sound.

And then, that noise from before repeated itself - louder, against the barrier directly separating it from the two. Muffled, as if wrestling against thick fabric.

@thisisgonnahurt:

At the moment of contact the natural reflexes of the displaced soldier, alert and honed to martial perfection, instantly took situational command. Immediate muscular ignition sprang into action. Snaring the trickster's arm by the wrist, dipping his posture and exploding at the hips, Quintus sinfully sent the stranger for a ride. End over end to the ground before coiling his entire body around the still captured arm. With one swift and unforgiving motion he jerked it in the wrong direction, then back, then back the wrong direction again.

And then...and then, nothing. As quickly as it had happened, quicker even, it hadnt. Instead the Iron Mamba found himself surrounded by the regal prestige of romanticized royalty. Modern money never translated as well as its historical counterpart, and the current aesthetic beauty was captivating in its Gothic sensibility. But it wasnt real.

'Or is it' he briefly thought. Illusions, reality, tangible treats for the stick like shadow to seemingly play with. Quintus' internal monologue began to sing. Slowly he then began to hum. Notes known only to him and one other. Notes that served to shore up his mental fortitude. Notes, that kept him sane. Even when the insane had become the very fabric by which reality had wrapped its children in.

Suddenly the trademarked cape and cowl were gone, replaced by a designer suit and form fitting jacket. With arm raised, glass full of a Xinomavro blend, Quintus flipped the script and proposed a toast. "To Bratwurst Christoff then."Disarming his natural predilection to investigate the noise further.

@quintus_knightfall:

Heathen followed the tempo, though he didn't know it as well as his guest. The apparent safety within the song changed as he did so. From elegant to psychedelic, the impact of the notes combating the beating drum of flesh in Quintus' chest lessened. He was calmer now, though that just opened him up to further suggestions.

"To the lost children," Heathen raised his glass again, though this time it shattered in his hand. There was no wine, and the shards stuck out of his hand as he seeped away.

Almost like he was never there to begin with. Almost like all of this was just a nightmare, sleep paralysis.

But Quintus was deep inside whatever reality he had stepped into now, whether that be his home, this new faded dream, or that of the Man Who Laughs. Regardless of any of that, he would wake up. Just not now.

The mansion was now there to stay. Heathen, despite his standing there mere moments ago, did not take it with him. It was here for Quintus. All that was left was for him to explore the vacant halls, flanked on all sides by details of a congealed and decorated history. Napoleonic artifacts glowered down at him from the walls. War mementos of practically every decade since then, leading into the 20th Century.

For senses such as his, it would be simple to know that he was being watched. Not by Heathen, something smaller now: a boy, no older than four, clumsily concealing himself behind a bookcase in the space adjacent to the ballroom.

Are...you...kidding me?

Sorry Ian, afraid not, yet another reality breach and this one is a doozy. Strangely they all seem to be having a glorified "getting to know you" party and not a massive free-for-all-grab-for-power event for once. Refreshing.

Thank god this isn't my problem anymore.

I wouldn't hold your breath on that, their history of leaving associated realities in ruins bodes that you will be dragged in like it or not, someday.

........Or I could just blow it up and blame it on some Reality War refugee.

Or we can come back to real life, you won't do that, you are...sometimes..the good guy. Now remember to feed Ellie's cats as I'll be busy. I have a three way with Siri and Cortana tonight and will not be available, feel free to pout while I'm gone.

@thisisgonnahurt:

(Meant as a humorous one-off, don't mind me)

Shoots laser.

Nice! Excellent work, as always, Nordok!

@ultra-woman: What did that poor laser ever do to you?

LMFAO.

@mockingjay: Oh, and you don't like my humour!

@mister_surreal: You're still salty about that? SMH.

Thank you!

@ultra-woman: so it was your alt all along? Damn

@warlock360: Nope, I wasn't around that long ago.

@paragonxxx: "Got an old Prime alt you want to meet a CVnU'er? Want your original creation to interact with an established character? Go for it."

SUS