If you have any written stories based in the world of Dungeons and Discourse, post them here. They can be of any genre, about anyone, doing anything. You can even wax poetic, if prose isn't your style. Feel free to let the creative juices flow. Just as long as it is based on Dungeons and Discourse, and it's not wildly indecent, you're fine.
To start things off, here's a snippet of a short story I started writing for DnDis awhile back. I never finished it (and I doubt I will), but hey, it's an example.
“50 and 8,” The storekeeper said decidedly as he placed the tablet on the polished wood of the counter-top with the care and gentleness that one only acquires after spending many long years handling artifacts and antiquities, all of them in varying states of fragility. The bright, harsh light only found in the heart of a city at high noon filtered through the wide display windows at the front of the antique store. The light hit the stone tablet, accentuating the mysterious and foreboding curves of the pictographs covering its dusty surface. Franz Adler was not pleased by the storekeeper’s offer.
“50 treatise, 8 pages? That’s ridiculous! That’s insane! That-“
“Is a steal and my final offer,” the storekeeper said firmly as he reached into his shirt pocket, produced a small brush, and began to carefully and meticulously clean the surface of the tablet. “It’s a nearly perfect find, really. Extremely rare for anything from the Itzamnian ruins to be this well preserved, much less a tablet from the Itzamnian Overtime Calendar itself.”
Franz knew what Charles, the heavy-set storekeeper, said was true. Any Itzamnian artifact in this kind of condition was as valuable as it was rare, and the fact that it was a part of the legendary Itzamnian Overtime Calendar meant that it was one-of-a-kind and priceless. He also knew that if he didn’t buy it, he would never get another chance to even touch something as valuable as this. This was due to the fact that Charles was the most successful artifact trader outside of 8 Paths, and was the Curator of the Star Fall University’s museum for a good many years. With these connections, Charles could sell the tablet to any of the universities or museums on Sophos for any price he wanted. Why he wanted only 50 and 8 baffled Franz.
He decided to find out why.
“First of all,” Charles said calmly, “I don’t need the money. I’m happy enough living on my modest income.” Franz laughed inwardly, as Charles’ “modest” income allowed him to have one of the largest private artifact collections in the Domains. “Second, I don’t want this get stuck on display in an exhibit in the Valley of Knowledge. This needs to be seen by people, which it won’t if it’s locked away from the world in that valley. It’s important that people study their past. You can’t make progress if you don’t know what’s been done. That, kid, is why I’m selling it for such a low price.”
And so, reluctantly, Franz purchased the tablet. It nearly cleaned him out, but this he wasn’t worried about. He had spent most of his life in a state of poverty, so scratching out a living on a couple of treatise wasn’t a problem. What did hang heavy on the positivist’s mind was what on Deixis would he do with this find? This concern painted his face with an expression of satisfaction muted by thoughtful concern. His comrades noticed this as he exited the dusty shop.
“ASH!!!!!!” Kisyne squealed as Franz left the shop, her red curls bouncing about her head as she dashed for the positivist. It was one of the many nicknames that Franz had acquired over his travels, and was really just an abbreviation of another nickname, “The Airship Hobo.” It also happened to be the one that appealed the most to Kisyne, the group’s Discordian and the love of Franz’s life.
“Hello, darl-” was all Franz was able to manage before Kisyne was giving him a passionate kiss, which he would have been pleasantly surprised by if it weren’t for the fact that Kisyne also had draped her arms around his neck and held him in a spine-shattering embrace. After a few moments, Kisyne loosened her hold on him, which Franz took advantage of by catching his breath.
“Darling, you were gone so long! I couldn’t bear being away from you! I thought you’d never come back!”
Franz looked down at the tablet, now wrapped in a bundle of thick cloth, to be sure it wasn’t harmed, and then looked back at Kisyne. “Um, Darling,” The positivist began, “I was gone for five minutes.”
Kisyne didn’t hear him, as the bundle in his hands had caught her frighteningly fleeting attention. She reached out for the bundle, though Franz moved it out of her reach before she could grab his new acquisition.
Franz lifted the bundle up with one of the robotic legs protruding from the pack on his back, and then looked out at his current companions. Ark and Red-Green, the group’s ‘Pataphysician and Utilitarian, respectively, sat a nearby table, arguing about something, while Rabbi Pupik sat between them, eating some brisket from a nearby café. Not far from them, Ri, a Daoist, and Marie, a Humanist, sat on the curb with a jar between them. The whistling notes of Ri’s flute punctuated the drone of Marie’s violin, producing a quick-paced, but bittersweet, duet.
Franz took the bundle into his hands again and cleared his throat. He then proceeded to explain to his compatriots what he had just purchased and the importance of it. It would have only taken a few minutes, but Kisyne’s usual barrage of questions drew the conversation out extensively. After thirty minutes of Franz explaining various things brought up by Kisyne, Red-Green cut in, ending the impromptu Q and A session.
“Itzamnian Overtime Calendar, huh? What are you going to do with it?” he asked, as the group started to work their way down the street.
Franz ran his free hand through his blond hair, and sighed deeply. He then responded, “I don’t know if I want to sell it to a museum, or keep it, or what. I’m still in a bit of shock at being able to get it at all. I just don’t know.”
At this moment, Franz simultaneously heard the somewhat unsettlingly familiar sound of a gun being cocked, and the frightening, unfamiliar coldness of steel pressed up against his head. “Well,” a rough voice called from behind him, “you could just give it to us.”
Found an old one which served as an excuse as to why Troper, Thiel and Reginald made cameos in the Republic, if I have spare time I may novelize the campaign and perhaps even a conclusion. Anyway, here it is:
Logos Team; Thiel, This Troper and Reginald.
The gang arrived in Utopia after their long journey. After much
argument they decided to report their findings, only to realize they
didn't understand much of what had happened. Then before they knew it
Not-Schroeinger had backstabbed them and taken all the credit using
Marcus' testimony. Both recieved cushy lab work.
The rest, however, were not believed on their more outlandish reports
of forgotten islands and flying upsidedown boats. Troper suggested
they discharge him. After a brief review of the benefits of employment
in the military [ie. They won't kill you until after you're
discharged], Troper found himself in a suddenly patriotic mood. Before
anyone knew it Troper had pounced on the nearest mission file and
recieved the Republican Diplomat assignment.
"Diplomacy, maybe things are looking up?" Thiel said to a despondent
Troper as he dragged Reginald behind him with his robotic arm. "You
know as well as I do, the GM is just messing with us," he moaned in
reply. He gave Reginald a kick so he could have Reginald's support in
his arguments. It was to no avail. Thiel sat on Troper's shoulder in
contemplation; "Things could be worse."
"DON'T SAY THAT! Next thing you know we'll all be killed horribly! Or
rotting in some dank prison! Depending on how badly that idiot player
of mine screws up."
"Don't say that Troper, I'm sure-"
"It's true. I bet he'd rather be playing off playing an Optimist!" He
looked pleadingly at the fourth wall, "Why don't you love me Tungsten?"
Thiel sighed "How much longer until we arrive?"
"Probably as soon as we finish the conversation"
"I doubt that"
"Really? Watc- Owww!" Troper blurted as he smacked a wall face first.
To his left were two guards men. The first waved at them "Greetings
travellers, welcome to the Republic!", the second began scrutinizing
the two. He gave Thiel a silver and left a shiny bronze on Reginald's
chest as he led them in. He analysed Troper for a moment; Troper
struck a proud pose and held out his hand expectantly. The guard
flipped a dirty bronze coin at him, landing it in Troper's eye,
bruising it and further dirtying the medal.
"Hey! I'm the main character around here! I deserve the coolest medal!"
The first guard reached for his sword before Thiel interupted "So,
what are these medals for?"
"They prove your value"
"To the republic"
"Socrates provides" The other chimed in.
Troper looked at both guards then at the closed gate behind him, "I've
seen this movie man. I want out! Quickly! The one who knows what's
happens always dies first! I don't have much time!!"
The two guards looked at the Ninja Pirate Robot Zombie curled up in
the fetal position murmuring.
"Erm, what's with him?" asked a guard
"He's just like that." Thiel replied.
"He looks like a nut." responded the other.
"We should get him to authorities", his companion nodded.
"Aye, Socrates provides."
"Hey!" Thiel shouted, "Leave him alone!"
"Refusing the authority of the republic" noted one.
"The republic is good therefore he must be in ignorance of it" replied
the other with a thin air of intellegence.
"To the authorites with him as well!" they shouted in unison.
After some reflection they decided to bring Reginald along as well
with the intention of donating him to the municipal road services as a
speed bump for Chariots.
From the private correspondence of Cephalus
My good friend Cephalus!
It has definitely been too long since our last correspondence. You have to tell me about your affairs. As for me, well, it has been a rather stormy year. After you left the Republic, I had to keep supporting the local Sophists, as my plans required. They eventually overthrew the local authorities. 2 days later I had roused Diogenes and the Cynics* to have another coup. Clearly, the Sophists weren't going to supply Great Euclidia with fine wares. Cynics, however, were a lot more agreeable; mostly they didn't care to stop me. Several of my previous travelling companions seem to have perished in the revolts, most notably, somebody finally managed to do Gris Grue in permanently. Come to think of it, I believe the reports of his death to be largely exaggerated.
Now the thing is, while i've managed to gain significant political authority in Euclidia, i've been denied my fair share of profits. So I sold your forge to fund my own political excursion office. Right now, i'm working on destabilising a Benevolent Tyrant in the Domains, in a little village called Hogwatts or something. And here i've hit a bit of a snag - to better infiltrate his court, I need to get close to the bastard. The only way I see that happening is giving him a gift of a slave, everything else seems pretty worthless to him. So I, uh, I'm giving him Lysias. You don't mind, do you? I mean, your son was always just kinda loitering and not doing much with his life anyway. If you want, I can set him free once the Tyrant falls. Write back as soon as you can, because I really don't want this to come between us.
Looking to the future, i'm gathering funds for a bit of a shakedown in Euclidia herself. The money they've kept from might not have been that much, but, as you know, I don't take such insults lightly. The Euclidian Merchants Organization has slighted me, I will make sure they have ample reason to regret this act.
Anyway, I've got a meeting with my associate Mr. von Beesmark in a moment, so I'll stop here. I look forward to hearing from you.
- Vanem Imanta
*They said they'll be touring Deixis this summer, presenting their latest album "Hounds and Lanterns". It's bound to be a great show, I wholeheartedly suggest going to it.
Euthyphro: God said so! It's this summer!
Socrates: Is it this summer because God said so or did God say so because it's this summer?
Nietzsche: God couldn't have said so, cause he's dead and I killed him! (evil laugh)
…Things will happen…
Cartesian: How do you know this movie will ever get finished?
Presuppositional Apologist: I have faith!
Cartesian: I think therefore I will go see this movie!
…People will die…
Nietzsche: Like God!
…Qualia will be recognized…
Objectivist (who is getting paid to advertise for this thing): You should go see this movie!
Kant: Does this ethical maxim enjoy the property of universality?
Objectivist (who is getting handed a big bag of cash): Yes! Everyone should go see this movie!
Kant: OK then. It is justified by the categorical imperative!
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM
Dungeons and Discourse THE MOVIE!
Coming to a recognizable qualitative character of the given which may be repeated in different experiences near you.
A bit harsh on Nietzsche. The guy was more of the persuasion that the apathetic masses killed any spirit or true belief in God. So Sunday Christians are the murderers for making God that thing they do once a week rather than living their lives completely for his sake, where as Nietzsche simply decided it wasn't worth it and he'd be happier living his life to the fullest extent for the sake of experience.
Also, I would have highly recommended handing the Objectivist a big ol' bag of cash after each line.
Ah I don't think I was being fair to anybody. Except maybe the presuppositional apologist. And yeah, I know Nietzsche would say "we killed him" not "I killed him" it just sounded funnier at the time
True, I've just heard the Nietzche vs. God joke enough times that it's gotten a bit gratting.
yeah i think the real point I was going for was more about how stupid movie trailers have become than anything else
Your link is broken but yes, I've seen that trailer, which is kind of riffing off of some other stuff I've also seen. :)
I'm three chapters into a huge D&Dis story, I may around to posting a chapter a week after exam period.
This may or may not be eligilbe for the final book as flavour for Ethos/Plot hooks
Sit down, weary traveller, for I got a tale to tell ye. See we call this 'ere town Godsend, ye wanna know why? Well, I'll be tellin ye anyway. Have ye 'eard about the Palm of Narcissus? 'Course ye have, who in this bloomin' world ain't!? What ye might not know is that it actually floats around, it's not in one place, you know.
So there was a lad by the name of Brillie. Like all good Ethosian boys, he knew that Theodicy could be found up there, in the lair of a hundred Fell and Dire Solipsists. It's the greatest treasure the world has known and sought by many. Though, as ye know, few return. So this Brillie, like many before him, studied and trained, mincing words with the best orators of Numinos. So one day, when the Palm was above right this here spot, Brillie ascended to it and began his search. Nobody heard from him for a year, news don't travel down, see? But exactly a year and day after, when the palm was in the same spot in the sky, a Good Shepherd was tending to his flock hereabouts. Suddenly he noticed a bright streak in the sky rushing down toward him. It was the same lad, Brillie, falling through the airs in a flash of love and justice. He fell down dead, but the Shepherd knew that the lad had found it - his body still radiated absolute knowledge, absolute potence and absolute love. So they built a town here to celebrate and to bask in the theodicial residue.
Right outside that there door there's the statue they built for him, they say that if you approach it at the right time and the right way, you'll glimpse a map that leads to Theodicy.