Showing Posts For Cloaked.6734:
Indeed, the character limit is 5001 for thread posts. I’ve gone into using multiple posts for mine, but I think it’s much more effective to host it somewhere like Google Documents and link there. Perhaps we could include short teasers in our posts!
Looks fantastic! You’ve a very refined painting style.
You really brought out her character!
Do you have a dA?
Part 3! Thanks for reading and commenting! This 5001 character limit is killing me. >_>
“Your injuries will take a while to heal. No more heroic deeds like that. Those centaur could have easily killed you, but you got lucky. Very lucky,” she says, a small smile on her face.
“You were the one that saved me then?” I take a closer look at her. Her eyes are the same color as Madam Plant-girl’s, but I think all the Sylver people’s eyes are the same color… maybe. “Was there another one of your people there?”
“Not to my knowledge, no. I was the only one when I arrived. Though… maybe there was at some point. The alcohol rendered me quite…”
“Drunk. You were drunk—wait!” I sit up quickly and trigger not only a pain in my head, but in my abs as well. “Ack!”
This time, she places her hand onto my chest and guides me back down. After I’m lying again, she briefly holds a finger in front of her lips in a “shh” gesture, then speaks. “Madam Plant-girl would not be very happy if she brought you all the way back here and your injuries didn’t heal properly because you were too excitable. So please, rest.”
I let out a deep sigh. Finally able to divert my eyes from hers, I take a look around the room: basic furniture, a window on the wall behind me and to my left, just past the unnamed girl, and a bed on the other side of that window. We look to be in an inn. Hanging in an open closet are my clothes and the coat and clothes of Madam Plant-girl.
… Wait, a bed?
“Yes?” she says, interrupting me before I get a chance to even ask my question .
“Why are you-”
“Why’m I what?”
I give her a blank stare; hopefully she can read that I’m annoyed. She just giggles and ruffles my short, brown hair.
“Aw, don’t be angry! Go on, go on, ask your question.” Perhaps it’s her lightheartedness, but I do go from annoyed to angry.
“WHY ARE YOU IN MY BED?!”
“Why are you yelling?” she says calmly as if nothing’s wrong with this situation.
Her hand is still on my chest.
“There are two beds in this room, why aren’t you in the other—what are you…”
She rolls over, holding herself above me her elbows, one on each side of me. “Oh, I’m so very ignorant of your human customs,” she says in an overly-innocent voice, “Would you, kind sir, please tell me: when there are two beds available in a room, and two people are in said room, yet only one bed is occupied… what does that imply?”
All while she’s been talking, her face has been lowering progressively to mine. For a plant-girl, she has very nice lips, or whatever the plant equivalent is.
“Um… but, you’re a plant-girl-”
A finger covers my lips. “I told you…” the finger is removed and looks like it will soon be replaced by a pair of lips. Plant lips. “It’s Madam Plant-girl…” She inches closer and closer. I shut my eyes in fear. Or is it anticipation? Either way, my heart is racing.
Suddenly, a knock on the door. “Sir? Are you alright?” says the charming voice of a young woman, probably the innkeeper’s daughter.
Madam Plant-girl immediately ducks under the sheets, causing an immediate sigh of relief from me.
“I look to be doing well! Thank you for taking care of me!”
“Oh, no,” she says as she opens the door slowly, “It was all the lady in the coat and hood who took care of you.” She looks down at the large bump in the covers next to—wait, where is she? “Oh—it looks like she’s taking care of something else, right now.”
I look down: she’s slowly inched to my waistline, planning who-knows-what. “Whoa! No no, you’ve got the wrong idea.”
She doesn’t listen. “I’ll give you two some privacy. Please try to be considerate of our other guests!” The door closes. “Have fun, handsome!”
I let out another deep sigh. “Would you cut it out?! You’re giving people the wrong idea!” I flip the covers off of us.
The moment I do, she darts up toward my face. “What idea?”
“D-Don’t scare me like that! And the innkeeper’s daughter doesn’t know you’re a Sy… that you’re Madam Plant-girl, so she thinks we were-”
“Doing scandalous things?”
She smirks. “Shall we?”
It’s almost like she’s serious. A human couldn’t do that with a plant even if they wanted to, though, I’m sure.
“Hey…” I assume a serious face, “Do you wanna tell me what happened last night after I was knocked out at the bar?”
She sits back on her knees. “Alright then. Shall I get dressed and bring you a meal? I will tell you everything… but.” Her smile fades.
She looks me dead in the eyes; for the first time, I get a hint of direness from her. “From the time you were unconscious, things only got worse. Much worse.”
The bottom of my shirt still doused in vomit, I stand up. “Anyway, I’m gonna go to the washroom and clean this up, maybe get a change of clothes. I’ll be right back.”
I turn away, but she grabs my wrist; the look in her eyes is ridiculously sincere. “Stay. There,” she says sternly. Again, our gazes meet for a few moments.
… She’s not that bad… for a half-plant, half-woman, that is. It’s just that she’s easy on the eyes, is all. I’m not actually attracted to her or anything.
“Um… alright, well, I’ll… get going now.” I try to walk away and she eventually lets go of my sleeve. Halfway to the bathroom, I look back to see that she’s still on all-fours, head facing downward; she’s probably a bit too drunk to think straight, which is why she told me to “stay there,” whatever that means.
Inside of the small room, I take off my shirt and place it aside. I immediately start to think about that Silverian or whatever their race is called, her eyes, her strange accent, and… wait, why can’t I get her out of my head?!
Soon I start to hear the rapidly-approaching patter of hooves—many hooves—from just outside the bar. Knights, perhaps?
That theory is soon disconfirmed when I hear the hooves inside the bar.
“Centaurs! Look out!” someone yells.
“KILL EVERYONE! RAVAGE THIS HUMAN TRASH-HOLE!” yells a centaur.
I instantly think of the green woman. But judging by the number of hooves I hear, she’s… probably been trampled by now.
It doesn’t matter though, does it? Those things literally grow on trees! They’re a-dime-a-dozen. Another will sprout up just like she did, and wander into a bar and get drunk, cause a scene, and… look at me with those eyes… Right. There’s nothing special about her., I’m sure her attractiveness is just some defense mechanism their people have.
That doesn’t even make sense. But it’s the only thing stopping me from thinking I might be attracted to her. I’m not, though.
My indecision is set aside by the sound of centaur talking loudly.
“The heck is a Slyvari doing here?! This is s’posed to be a human bar!”
“Who knows! Leave’er alone though; we’re here to mess these humans up, not get another race on our hides.”
“So… I can have my way with’er, right?”
“You think she even has all the parts? Ah, screw it. She’s too drunk to remember anything anyway. Have at’er.”
“YEAH! HECK YEAH!”
I can’t hear any sounds from her. At least… they won’t kill her, right? She’ll survive? Still though… if I don’t do something quick, she’ll surely be violated, at least.
There’s a woman in danger, and logic dictates that a man can’t just hide away. I have to do anything—everything—to save her.
Unarmed and still shirtless, I run out into the bar. “DON’T YOU FILTHY CENTAURS LAY A FINGER On her…!” My words grow weak as I come to realize just what’s happened.
Bloodshed; bloodshed and carnage everywhere with more happening by the second. “No… what is-”
“YOU’RE DEAD!” I hear before taking a brutal hit in the head. I fall to the floor and… my vision… gets…
Across the bar I… someone with green… skin… they’re on the floor too, looking at… at me…
The next thing I know, everything’s quiet. I slowly open my eyes; this is not the bar.
“You’re awake. Good to see,” says a familiar, accented voice.
I try to sit up, but my migraine won’t allow it. I instantly clench my head and feel a bandage wrapped tight. There’s one across my palm, too, and even another around my midsection.
Realizing I’m obviously in pretty bad shape, I lie back down. Someone’s in my peripheral vision. Next to me.
In my bed.
I look to the left: with short hair like autumn leaves—no, really, they’re leaves—and the same green skin as the woman at the bar is another Sylvanas or whatever they’re called. She’s under the covers with me with her hand casually on the pillow, lying on her side and gazing at me like we’re a couple.
I try to think back about what happened at the bar, but her eyes are really boring into me and I can’t concentrate. She looks just like the woman at the bar… like, I know they’re the same species, but she looks just like her!
Thank you! It’s only a short piece—I know I haven’t given you guys much to work with—but I’m glad you like it!
Will definitely have to update soon!
A lil’ story joint I’ve felt inspired to work on ever since I made my Sylvari thief. I’ll be continuing it whether it gets interest or not, but I just figured I’d post it here since there’s a fanfiction section.
Scroll down for the continuation!
Open to any and all suggestions/critique, being new to the GW world and whatnot.
The green woman in the grey coat lets out a boisterous, almost rude sigh of satisfaction after another swig of her ale. Their people sure can put it away.
“This (hiccup) is alcohol? Mag- (hiccup) magnificent…”
The bartender, who’s also unfamiliar with the strange botanical woman, finally draws the line. “Alright, miss, I think that’s about enough. I’m not sure how your kind reacts to ale at all, let alone enough to get a fully-grown Norn drunk. Alright, your tab comes to-”
“LISTEN!” she says, slamming her hands down on the bar and almost slipping on some of the ale she’s spilled from the past six drinks, “My kind… there’s nothing wrong wi- (hiccup) nothing wrong with my kids. Kind. Now if you please good sir, another ale, please. Good sir.”
Even though she’s drunk, I can tell that her voice is smooth and her accent strong; she sounds like she could actually be human. She has leaves for hair, though, so she’s anything but human. Speaking of hair, I’m just now realizing that I can’t really see her face—her leaf-bangs cover a good deal of her eyes, and her hood conceals just about everything else.
Can she even see?
“Now Miss… Plant-girl, I appreciate the business-”
She slams her mug down. “MADAM Plant-girl to you.” She pauses, and a good deal of the bar looks over at her (at least, those that weren’t already staring). “… Dangit.”
The bartender sighs. He seems calm for dealing with someone so raucous, which is more than I can say for most of the bartenders I’ve seen in my day. It’s a good quality for a barkeeper or innkeeper to have, though, because there are all kinds of characters that show up.
“Madam Plant-girl, I do appreciate your business but I’m-”
“Boring,” she says in a faint voice with a chuckle.
“Pardon, madam?” The bartender leans in closer, probably not having heard what she said. Probably a bad idea.
“You’re BORING!” She stands abruptly and walks away—well, tries to. She stumbles and trips over her own coat, falling to the floor before she gets too far. Her hood comes off, and her species is revealed to everyone in the bar. For a while, there’s silence.
“Plants belong in the ground,” says some young woman from a nearby table. A group of people laugh.
I kinda feel bad for her.
I rise from my seat at the bar and walk over to her, kneeling to see if she’s okay. “Hey, um, Madam Plant-girl, you alright?”
She gets up onto her hands and knees and turns to look at me with her strange, yellow eyes. Aside from the alien-ness of them, they also seem… afraid. Is she afraid of the people teasing her?
It only makes sense. The more I look into those fear-filled eyes, the more sympathy I have for her. She’s the only plant-creature in this bar and some of the locals clearly don’t like her. It occurs to me that as strange as she may be, I’ve still got to stand up for her.
She turns her body toward me. Maybe she sees that I’m not an enemy; that I’m not like those others who made fun of her; that I’m willing to help h-
Scratch that. She just had to puke. On me.
It looks relatively normal, aside from some stuff that looks like tree sap.
… Am I really analyzing her vomit?
Speaking of analyzing, after looking up at her, I notice that her eyes are still locked onto me. They look even more desperate than last time, as if she’s pleading.
“Am… am I going to die?”
These tree-people haven’t been around long, so it makes sense that most of them wouldn’t be used to alcohol or vomiting.
The bar is too full of laughter from her vomiting on me for anyone else to have heard what she said. Right now, though, she’s doing anything but laughing.
I shake my head and place a hand on her shoulder. “No, you aren’t going to die. You just need some rest, some restraint, and more knowledge of the world.”
I say that, but I have a feeling that she won’t be able to rest—I have a feeling… that the bar’s about to get a whole lot livelier.
(edited by Cloaked.6734)