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antihero-writings · 5 months

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Lucid Remembrance

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Summary: "You're so worried about you. You know what I've dealt with? Every night for more years than you could know... the last thing I see before sleep is the image of you—You and me over that pit, your hand... wrapped around mine. And then you open your grip. And as I fall away, all I can see is your face. Choosing all...this...crap over me. Letting me go." The first night's always the worst. (Written for Tale Foundry's prompt "The Monster of Your Stories.")

Baelfire lie beneath a tree, hugging his cloak tighter around himself, feeling cold, and hungry, and lost. He shut his eyes, trying not to shiver, trying to fall asleep.

The stars were different here.

The leaves barely protected him from the rain…but, for now at least, it was better than being in that village. It was too loud, and too bright, and too strange.

He thought, without magic, this world would be simpler, gentler. But this world was too much. Too much to bear.

Too much to bear…alone.

If he’d had his father with him, he thought he could handle all the loud noises, bright lights, and strangeness.

But he didn’t.

So he couldn’t.

His father was the entire reason he came here. This world was supposed to be a cure for the disease of magic. A rescue from the monster inside his heart. Here, Papa could be himself again.

Here, Bae was cast away into a strange, callous land without magic. Alone.

His father chose to stay sick, and captive, and a stranger.

A hand wrapped around his, tight. The portal pulled on him, weighing him down like rocks tied to his feet.

His papa wouldn’t let him fall. Not alone. They had a deal. He promised they would fall together.

But…his father’s other hand gripped this world equally tightly.

Papa looked at him.

And the look in his eyes…

Bae knew in that moment.

He was going to fall.

Papa was choosing magic. Choosing darkness. Choosing pain. Over him.

Rumplestiltskin. The coward who ran. The Dark One who gained power to save his son.

Only to save his son.

Right?

The monster, who never broke a deal. And killed you if you tried.

After everything. After gaining this magic to save him. After he promised. He was choosing magic.

For so long the people in his village called his father a coward. Bae was certain they were wrong. That they didn’t have the full story.

Now?

Pain swirled in him, pulling him down with far more force than any magic.

“YOU COWARD!” Those words he’d fought so hard to disprove wrenched their way out of his mouth now. “YOU PROMISED!” His young voice cracked and broke, like a sturdy tower falling to ruins. “DON’T BREAK OUR DEAL!”

His eyes…gods, the look in his eyes.

His eyes said, lamentable though it was...he would give it all up.

“I have to!” Soft went the words. Soft and yellow.

And Papa’s fingers. They loosened.

Just slightly.

And Bae

slipped.

And the world

fell away.

He wasn’t sure he fell asleep at all, but he shot up, breathing heavily, heart hammering, his clothes clinging to him—with sweat or rain, he wasn’t sure anymore.

He always thought his father was a little messed up, a little misled. Maybe a lot. But he was still his father, and could still be saved. He could still be the good man he was before. If he could just get away from magic.

Now…an angry thing curled its way into his chest.

All those stories. All those rumors. All those words he thought were lies, and half-truths, and fearful wonderings. All those stories about how his father was a monster.

When Bae sat for dinner with his father—and Papa was gentle and kind—Baelfire had always been sure the stories weren’t true. That dagger hadn’t stolen his heart completely. When his papa kissed him goodnight, he did not see a monster. Deep inside, he knew he was a good man.

At least, he was once. He could be again.

Now?

He was starting to think he was every bit as horrible as the stories said.

******

Rumplestiltskin walked into his house, reflex sending a word rising to his lips, before reality killed it.

A word. A name.

What’s in a name, anyways?

The house was so quiet.

Nothing here but a few pots and pans, and beds, and tattered curtains.

Once he came home to a wife. More than once he came home to a son. A family. Him, and Milah, and Bae.

Now, it was just him.

Everything was taken from him.

No. More like he gave it away.

Wasn’t brave enough to fight for her.

Wasn’t brave enough to jump with him.

It didn’t feel like home anymore. Not now that he had nothing to come home to.

He tried not to look at the other bed as he passed by.

He looked at the other bed as he passed by.

Something irrational in his mind told him he’d find a boy lying there. Blinking sleep from his eyes, saying he could stay up a little longer. That he’d kiss him goodnight, and he’d say he was sorry, and they’d go about their days, their lives, as they always had. Not perfect, but happy, at least. Together.

Just empty sheets.

He swept past the bed, and went about preparing dinner for himself.

No one else.

Not even a maid to help. Not anymore.

Blood on his shoes.

“She was mute! She couldn't tell anyone!”

(Maybe he did go too far.)

No one to talk to. No one to laugh with. No one to kiss goodnight.

No one to remind him he was more than just a coward, or a monster.

“YOU COWARD!”

The plate fell to the floor and shattered.

He didn’t bother cleaning it up.

Food tasted like ashes anyways.

Funny how emptiness can be alive; every second that passed, the emptiness of the place crawled deeper into his heart.

Sometimes he wondered if it would be easier to just take it out.

He tucked in for sleep too soon, and turned away from the other bed, shutting his eyes tighter than he needed to.

No one to whom to say goodnight.

A swirling of light. A whirlpool of pure magic, dragging him to a world without.

He didn’t want to drown.

He looked at his son, so small and so beautiful, and so worthy of every affection. Longing and fear warred in Bae’s eyes.

Could Rumplestiltskin walk onto the battlefield and make the fighting stop?

Or would he take a mallet to the leg and hobble his way home?

In that moment they both knew.

“YOU COWARD!” His son’s voice. The words Rumplestiltskin had fought so hard to keep Bae from believing rended the air now, louder than the portal’s cries. “YOU PROMISED!” Gods, his voice. It was the sound of something irreplaceable breaking. “DON’T BREAK OUR DEAL!”

Something cold and sharp went through his heart at that.

How could he refuse him? He had made a deal. He couldn’t go back on it now.

But, what Bae asked of him…it was too much. Too much to bear.

Even together.

How could he leave all this behind? His entire world and everything in it? For a world without magic, where he’d be no one, nothing. Not the Dark One. Not the man who stopped the war. Not the imp who never broke a deal. Not the monster who’d tear your heart out for a minor insult. Just a man. Just a coward who ran. Just a sniveling wretch who couldn’t save his wife, or his son.

“I have to!” The words came out twisted and tiny, but certain.

Ever so slightly,

he released his grip.

The moment he did, the feeling of his son—his treasure, the only person left to love him—slipping through his fingers was like the sands of time running too fast, and the sight of the portal closing was worse than if someone had stabbed him in the chest with that dagger. The one with his name on it.

He wasn’t certain he actually fell asleep, but he shot up, breathing heavily, sweat sticking to him. It was somehow worse with the Dark One’s corrupted skin.

Or maybe he was just reminded that he had it, stronger than yesterday.

Yesterday, he’d still felt human.

He thought the emptiness was a creeping, clawed thing. That was nothing to the regret breathing fetid air down his neck now.

He knew the rumors. The stories.

The Dark One. The villain. The monster.

(Better than a coward.)

(Oh but you’re still a coward. Your son said so.)

But he wasn’t a monster. He was just a father trying to do what was best for his son.

Right?

And…he gave it all up.

Magic has a price. And keeping magic…had cost him the one he loved most.

“There is no escaping it. You will have a son, and your actions will leave him fatherless.”

The memory was a poisoned arrow.

Back then, he’d thought he was going to die. He’d thought he could escape his fate. He ran to save his life, to save his son's future.

And, in saving his own life, he’d condemned his son's future.

The future has a wicked sense of humor.

He’d thought he would die to the ogres, then. Now, he couldn’t die. To anything. Anything but his own name.

He wasn’t sure which fate was better.

He sat up, running his hands over his face. He wasn't sure what he planned to do, but anything was better than laying in bed with his thoughts, and no one to talk to.

There was that butcher in the village who hadn’t delivered on his promise just yet. Maybe he could give him a little encouragement—

“Papa, you’re getting worse.”

Or…maybe not.

It wasn’t what Bae would want, at least.

'It wasn't what Bae would want'? No. He shouldn’t think of him like that; like one might think of the dead.

The word gripped at his heart. What if he was? Would this world without magic be the end of him?

No. He couldn’t believe that.

He would see him again.

There were no other options. He would make sure of it.

Standing up, he thought of what he could do to take his mind off it: take a walk, or read a book, or—

He didn’t make it past the other bed, slumping on the edge. Sitting there, like he used to when—

“Tell me a story, Papa. I can’t sleep.”

The grimace tugged at his lip. Or maybe something more.

Would he ever hear his voice again?

“Are you really that unhappy, Bae? I conjure anything you desire. Name it. What do you want?”

“I want my father.”

“All I want is your happiness, Bae. If you find a way, I'll do it.”

“Good. The deal is struck.”

He could still feel his hand, firm and hopeful, and too small.

He’d made a deal. And, all the while…he’d thought Bae would never find a way.

Rumplestiltskin. The imp who never broke a deal.

Except one.

He fell into the cold sheets, clutching at the blankets, trying to hold onto anything that smelled like Bae.

And he knew. He knew he was every bit the monster they said he was.

“I’m so sorry, Bae,” he sobbed with every last bit of humanity in him. “I want to come with you. I want to come with you. I want to come with you.”

#once upon a time #rumplestiltskin #baelfire #Neal cassidy #ouat rumple #ouat #ouat fanfiction #ouat fic #ouat fandom

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deviacon · 3 years

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Weekly Writing Prompt: Reaching into the Maw

“Rendezvous”

A group of young friends decide to relax at the beach. There’s an strange cave hidden within rocks nearby.

#flsh fiction #short story #weekly writing #writing prompt #horror #creepy #monster #seaside #oceanside #beach #tale foundry #writing group

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missslywild · 4 years

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Tale Foundry

I did another micro fiction for this week for the server Tale Foundry. Feel free to check it out! This week’s prompt was “A Roll of the Bones” and so be prepared for the creepy content ahead. https://thetalefoundry.com/2020/05/18/writing-group-a-roll-of-the-bones/#comment-5542

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alchemisland · 5 years

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Ants - 1

Odours lingered warningly on Winetavern Street. Night, pregnant with possibility, awaited alignment of circumstance and personnel. Patent Pending bore night's bulk on his flank, flung easy like the inebriated sack of a drunken friend. He and it were one, Tristan and Isolde.

Like the miasm of spent gas shells planted in the salient sludge, lethal bulbs awaiting a clumsy boot's airborne dispersal, the scent filled Patent as he faced the old alley, ignoring its pleas for circumvention. Another might endure; Patent prospered in the queer aunty's musk of his fallen lady; Dirty Dublin at night, at play, at improper.

Old roads like tube lines intersected and closed off unto themselves. Strange turnings where past and present converged in dystopic medieval splendour. Historic strata visible on Fishamble Street's surface; its wind rises from the black pool like dripping neptune on tempest eve, and meanders in concrete toward the church forecourt, seat once of Sitric Silkenbeard. Later cobbling shields yesteryear's lindens interned below. Here where Patent strides, merchantmen once carried eels and fish malformed by prolonged unlight in buckets to the market to fetch their porter's price. In deference to the raven rush which joined and bound the city's distinct fiefdoms, Dubliners imbibed a potable black as their mordant wit and sacred river, from cups that seemed to alien eyes to have been filled from the lap itself. The nightpool's generous bounty permitted varied industry.

The River was a goddess. Everything betwixt she influenced; poet's pen and artist's quill, songman's flute and poor man's ills. Even those who tended stalls, owned property or collected for crown without cause to set sail made crossings in the dozens, ever in her grace.

Each weekday at dawn great galleys moored at Ormonde Quay, where the old wall dipped to treacherous stonecut steps, and ferried welders and net-tossers to upriver sites. There waited their Argus, which endeavoured to carry a full cargo every journey to ensure dividends on their investment. Each aboard, though nobly dreamt, would spend his lot on drink, howevermuch they might endeavour to stockpile amidst their lousy existence, in the itchily literal definition.

The men lined the boatsides and leant shouldertight to the flimsy awning, which offered helmsman-elect brief respite from foundry fogs that hugged the river to the sea, reputedly irritant in large doses. Once boarded the helmsman signalled the portside men, who leaned perilously, and fearlessly, over the black pool between craft and pier and kicklaunched the vessel toward the thoroughfare.

All day toiling, they returned along an effulgent coil which the setting sun cast spearlike on the flow. Despite exhaustion and wont of leisure, workers together moored their fleet to rings set in Ana Livia's pauldrons, then sold produce for wares and coin at Fishamble Street Market, and hence with mischief carried across the concourse to its dionysian counterpart, parallel in planning though twinned in purpose, aptly-named Winetavern Street.

Coins in Dublin had legs and leapt hand-to-hand like gilded fleas. Into the hamfists of sailors went the day's catch, soon bound for the limp wrists and satin sacks of merchant landlords or the cudgel-wristed mitts of Winetavern's grizzliest keeps. Ireland should rule the world, only word of the hereditary fiscal irresponsibility innate to our poet nation reached the ears of greedier elements.

This night as Patent rounds the bend and is now clear of Smock Alley, he passes Handel's onion gate, which since boyhood he has imagined as the breasted turret of a sandy kingdom's tower, bell-shaped to a needle point. Here the great composer slept in the nervous, inspired nights before Messiah on the vast organs rang to ears virginal to its majesty beneath St. Michan's vaulted roof. The wind whistled like an idle janitor and his fiery gruaig shifted, and he wondered was there an organ note played there so faint you might pause to quiz, but he didn't. Patent was naturally disarrayed and now close to disrepute. He sought and found solace in the silence of ancient shadows, now and past tormented evenings suchlike. His route, which linked home and hedonism, he had many times crossed. Well-chosen subterfuge, it peeled through and melted past main streets like a serpent unlimited by dimension unfurling endlessly.

Washerwomen spoke as they do of ambling fish, shambling bipedal creatures whose scales in the occult half-light of the ancient primate city shone like iridescent plate from the armouries of some unknowable mariners guild, who depart water to stalk midnight markets where Monto maidens scrubbed ectoplasm from petticoats with Analivia's spit. No market there was now, nor bustle. If ere those scabrous fiends had ginger stepped quayside, they had long since ceased their daring, preferring dank middens in the city's underground confluence, which swelled heroically beneath the cobbles. If one pressed ear and hope-hearted to the paving stones, one heard its rage against the firmament.

Pisces stubbornly held her sway in the street's reptile house, where arrogant tropical fish lured dope-fated urchins to their window, as had the wares of times past all laid fresh beneath gullhowl. He swept past her left transept to avoid Parliament Street, where at this hour surely only most unparliamentary actions were being committed. He paid no heed to the pissing tramp's opera. Who cares what happened the night before Larry was stretched. There was only tonight, which, if foretold, Patent would have called the Night Before Patent Time Traveled.

Don't ask him for the science. Fine man perhaps but Feynman he's not. They still don't believe him. He wouldn't believe it, only he'd experienced it himself. He had been sent backward, and like a suspicious majority of 80s action movie protagonists with purpose traversed centuries to prevent mankind's extinction; all at the whim of a man who could only be distinguished from the homeless by his winning Trinity brogue. Patent had no explanation and questioned why such was required. When old farmers spoke of cursed hawthorne and workers driven from farms by the sidhe, who asked the genus of the creatures in question, or quizzed after some metric by which fortean phenomena could be rightly assembled. His tale was one such; of the Otherworld.

Besides, it was more a mystical experience than anything permitted by accepted science, which the druid called dogma. He described 'universal laws' as one describes vicious cults, no less enraptured by their own tenets than fervent Catholics; their god of wire, his ribbed tendons and paneled skin in every child's clutch, his scrying eye the mirror of future weeping.

The man hid arcane proficiency behind frail form. Patent initially reeled from his crooked beck when first he bore forth from interminable shadow in the Christchurch backlane, thinking him some coffer-thirsty derelict job-shy. Quickly the man, whose bearing was noble, dispelled such notions and wrest control of the conversation, steering destiny as he pleased; gab he had and used, ensorcelling Patent in a labyrinth of benign cunning. His eyes were deep-set. Their azure rondures belied great wisdom. In fleeting moments between articulate flurries, Patent thought how prompt this man sought and claimed confidence without question or favour. Despite appearance, the suggestion of authority was sufficient; the library of archetypes constructed the remainder, which we call reality.

"Things have been forgotten," he gestured upward "even the Ashakic records wherein all knowledge is contained have waylaid the facts pertaining to our present discourse. Listen, you, man whose name I do not know yet whom I feel supernaturally compelled toward, and do you not feel it yourself, this electricity while we speak, growing with proximity." He came within an inch of Patent's distinctive shrón. Time seized forward, eager toward supposed destiny; but whose? He seized Patent's hand. Patent felt the man knew everything about him, from the Cornetto he stole in Londis off Shop Street after Leftover Crack played in Sally Longs, to the fearsome dildo hidden in his bottom drawer which Amazon user ButtLustNottingham83 described as having 'terrifying, macelike proficiency'. They spoke eye-to-eye but unequal; twas the eye of Horus, nae the eye of Balor 'gainst the mere beholder, the eye of diaphanous and limited mortal understanding.

Flaming swords he made with words and his inebriated flock stood transfixed, dirtied on weed. Patent Pending willingly and with announced pleasure opted for routine temporary dementia. His thoughts were tigers that plagued him. They besieged his inner compound, which though unconquered, had straw foundations. Only smoke tamed their berzerk, sated their lust for the man he had once been and now became fleetingly. As Patent thought this to himself, he thought it also to the elderly man, who as sure as Gandhi read the Guardian could read his thoughts.

#Spilled ink #Ireland #Irish writers #Dublin #Dirty Dublin #Analivia #Magical realism #Description #My words #Creative writing #Shorts #Comedy #Funny #Writeblr #Short stories

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abalonetea · 5 years

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another prompt: bright stars in an inky sky

thank you!

have some cute wolf boys!

The night is calm in a way that Tano hasnearly forgotten about. He can still taste the smoke on the back of his tongue,acrid in his throat like a creature trying to crawl out, or maybe in, coilingdeeper inside. He can still feel the pain of Ashwa’s claws, striking him overthe chest – wound healed enough that there is nothing but soft pink lines leftbehind. He keeps catching Lorit looking at them. Like – now. They are sitting in the middle of asmall clearing, ten foot wide at the most. The branches here are thin enough tosee bright stars above them, little silver pin pricks in an otherwise blackexpanse. Tano shifts, pulls a leg up againsthis chest. “What?” Lorit pulls back, blinks hard. His earflicks, just a little. “Bah, nothin’ pup. Was jus’t…thinkin’, is all.” “About?” Tano cocks his head to theside, truly curious. Lorit waves a hand over his own chest.“All’a dat. It was, ah, lookin’ right bad when I saw ye last. Deeper’n somemight survive.” Oh. Is that it? Tano lets out a bark of laughter,throws himself down onto his back. He sinks his fingers into damp earth, curlsthem there tight, tighter. “What can I say? The Forest God’s a whole lot kinderthan he lets on.” “…oh? Dat so?” “Yeah. Dat’s so.” “…so, ye’ve seen him? The right properowner of this forest?” “No,” says Tano and he can’t help butsnort. “I mean, yeah, I’ve seen the him. But…he doesn’t own this forest.” Lorit makes a vague sound, stretchesout his metal leg. The joints creak. “Different’n what I’ve heard.” Tano knows. He’s heard the humans whisper as theypass through the very edges of this land, back before the burning became anightly occurrence. He’s heard the vultures mock the belief that they could ever serve anyone but themselves; hasseen the tanuki make it into a game, oh no, oh no, whatever will the forest godthink? And maybe it makes sense. Humanity is always seeking an owner.They want to grab onto the world at large, force it into collar like the dogsthat work the farm, like the horses that pull their carts loaded down heavywith twists of metal and casks of oil. If it’s not theirs, they want it. Even ruined. Something about that thought makesTano’s chest pull tight. He rolls onto his side, peers at Lorit from out ofhalf-lidded eyes. “He doesn’t own the forest. He’s…part of the forest, I guess.Born from the God Land itself, the first of us all.” Lorit digs fingers into the placewhere metal meets flesh. His shorts are rucked up, giving him access to thethick mass of scar tissue. If he has anything to say, it’s cutoff when Tano reaches out. The tips of his own fingers brush over the scars,just barely able to reach. It’s the ghost of a touch, the ghost of a wound, theghost of smoke that clings to both of them. “The trees are his skeleton. The wind,his lungs. The sway of the leaves is proof that he’s still breathing.” Tanocites the old tale, one that Baoba has rumbled to him countless times. It’s apup tale stolen straight from reality, far lacking the flare and stunning drawof stories about the far, far mountains but – captivating all the same. When he glances up, Lorit is staringdown at him. The mechanics of his false eye whir softly. His mouth curls upinto a smile and, okay, yeah, he’s pretty captivating too.

tag list

@writings-of-a-narwhal @elaynab-writing @writer-grandma @cometworks @deadlyessencewhispers @nora-wrote-a-book @georgiacambrielwritblr @rmorada @drabbleitout@inked-foundry @srazar @groovytheoristbat @salvasti

#of the gods #nar tag #prompt fill #my writing #writeblr #writing

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jaz-rites · 2 years

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Hey I wrote a lil thing for Tale Foundry's weekly writing group! This week's prompt was "Dreamscape" so I couldn't resist. I really hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you feel so inclined, please drop a like thru the TF site (you don't need to make an account) so my piece has a greater chance of being selected to be read on the weekly stream. Thanks kindly!

Seeya soon,

- Jaz

#tale foundry #jaz writes #writing group #micro fiction #submission

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loadschool117 · 2 years

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Dark Souls 3 Mods On Ps4

Dark Souls 3 Boss Rush Mod Ps4

Dark Souls 3 Mods On Ps4 Gamestop

Dark Souls 3 Mods On Ps4 Mods

Dark Souls 3 Ps4 Hack

Known as being one of the toughest games out there, it’s easy to be intimidated by the Dark Souls series.

I remember the first time I heard about Dark Souls. Those tales came with stories of controllers being thrown and destroyed, rage and salt compilations all over YouTube, and that mocking “You Died” death screen.

PS4 button prompt mod? (PC) Title, I want to play with ps4 buttons. A community dedicated to everything about Dark Souls 3. Created Jan 20, 2013. Dark Souls 3 Must-Have Mods? I recently upgraded from my PS4 to a PC. I've never owned one before, but so far the quality of gameplay is astounding. I repurchased DS3 in the hopes of getting some cool mods to try out. What are some necessary ones to download? Also, what are some mods that change the game completely into something unique? Dark Souls 3 Tweak is a tool for Dark Souls III, created by Kaldaien. Description: Dark Souls 3 Tweak it a tool that allows you to configure and optimize Dark Souls III’s graphics in far bigger way than what the regular game’s menu offers.

It took me a while to get into the series to be honest. But countless frustrating hours and deaths later, I finally did it. I defeated the Lords of Cinder and linked the first flame. No game had ever given me the same sense of accomplishment as Dark Souls III, and I still haven’t found a game to top that experience to this day.

And as the fandom continues to grow, there are a number of mods that enhance the experience even further. For both newcomers and veteran players alike, here are my picks for the absolute best mods you can add onto Dark Souls 3.

It’s also important to note that most of these mods can get you banned so it’s better to enjoy them offline.

That Dark Souls III patch we reported on a few days ago has been put through the ringer by Digital Foundry and the results aren't too surprising. The support for PS4 Pro has given the game better.

20. Comfort Mod

For those who are new to the game, it’s easy to get frustrated and turn back. Especially if this is your first Soulsborne experience.

The unforgiving nature of the game can easily be a turn-off to newcomers.

Modder ss7877 has provided a way to make your DS3 playthrough much more relaxed.

By making changes to two of the early game items, the Comfort Mod makes your game… well, more comfortable.

The Life Ring and Covetous Silver Serpent Ring now have updated stats and buffs to help you stay alive through your journey from the beginning all the way to the end of the game.

With buffed max HP, FP, Stamina, souls gained, and HP regeneration, you’ll find that Estus Flasks aren’t as crucial as they would normally be.

If you’re just getting into Soulsborne games and would like to experience what it’s all about, without the infuriating difficulty, well this is the mod for you.

19. iGP11

iGP11 is pretty much an essential, almost all graphical mod. Probably the best out there.

Although it gives you total control over textures in the game, most graphics mods are simply presets for iGP11.

You’ll need this one for most of the visual changes on this list so I consider this more like a basic staple: it won’t do much by itself, but definitely good to have.

18. All PS4 Controller Icons for IGP11

A lot of PC gamers prefer to use the PS4 controller. Especially for third-person games like DS3.

Whether you’re just used to the DS4 layout or just don’t have an Xbox controller lying around, you probably hate when how must games don’t have DS4 support.

Lucky for us, EASKATER presents us with a simple fix.

The All PS4 Controller Icons mod replaces all the Xbox icons in the game with the correct PS4 icons.

In a game like DS3 no one wants to accidentally hit the attack button when you really mean to dodge. When every move matters, this mod will help keep you alive regardless of controller choice.

17. Draw Distance Increased – ULTIMATE

Dark Souls has come a very long way graphics-wise since the release of the first game back in 2011.

Though DS3 is arguably the best-looking game of the series, that doesn’t mean there aren’t any improvements to be made.

Almost all games nowadays have that one scene where you’re taken through a mountain path where just over the cliff is a gorgeous view of the world. A chance to take a break from the gameplay and just appreciate the game’s visual design.

As there are multiple moments like this in DS3, Draw Distance Increased improves on the level of detail seen from a distance.

This fixes an issue many gamers had with the game where textures would take too long to load when far away from the character.

Overall a great graphical upgrade that makes the game run smoother and look much better than it already does.

16. Spaghetti Penguin’s Enhanced Blood Mod

Violence in video games is always a touchy subject. But most gamers would agree that it just adds to the immersive experience of games we love.

Games like Doom and God of War even bank on the goriness they’ve become known for.

Spaghetti Penguin’s Enhanced Blood Mod aims to improve on just that: making blood and splatter effects more realistic. Building on the Red Blood Mod by SniperWolfP, this mod changes the color of blood in the game adding shades of crimson and dark red.

The overly bright spilling effect and environment textures are now more realistic. Just what you’d be looking for, right?

15. Color Clarity

There are many visual presets available for iGP11. But Color Clarity is probably one of the best in my opinion.

Some mods make the game way too dark, while others just take too much away in terms of detail.

Color Clarity is a great mod if you’re just looking to make everything look better. But without completely changing the look and feel of the game.

The default washed-out look is made much warmer.

In effect, colors are now more vibrant making the world look more realistic.

The details in the environment pop more, while gameplay is not affected. Shadows and brightness are not changed so everything is still as visible as in the vanilla version of the game.

14. Visual Infusion Effects

A simple mod that adds visual effects to infused weapons.

A huge part of Dark Souls has to be the different weapon builds that you can explore. Making each playthrough interesting, you can choose to maximize different weapon types, as well as explore upgrade paths depending on what best suits your playstyle.

Though adding elemental effects to your weapons has a huge impact in terms of gameplay. It may appear underwhelming as it does not change the weapon designs at all.

Visual Infusion Effects aim to change that.

As you can guess, fire weapons now appear as if they are burning. Poison weapons have a purple glow. And lightning weapons have that electrically-charged appearance similar to the Nameless King’s Dragonslayer Swordspear.

Dark Souls 3 Boss Rush Mod Ps4

A small mod, but you’ll definitely feel the change when hacking through bosses with a flaming sword.

13. Moonlight Greatsword Restored

Continuing on weapons in the Dark Souls series, fans of the older games are probably familiar with the Moonlight Greatsword.

One of the rarest swords in the game, many Dark Souls players were excited to see whether it would make an appearance in the third game.

But many players where underwhelmed, as the appearance of the weapon was drastically changed in Dark Souls III.

Modder zARCADEz wanted to bring back the iconic look of the Moonlight Greatsword from the previous games.

Reapplying the bright green glow, getting the sword in DS3 is now as exciting as it was in the previous games. That color is most likely where it gets its name, after all!

12. Darkdrift Reborn

Darkdrift is another hidden weapon in Dark Souls III.

As with most hidden items that aren’t easy to get, you were most likely expecting something grander than what the vanilla version of the Darkdrift looks like: a translucent katana that pretty much looks like every other katana in the game (except this one is see-through).

Obviously, someone felt the same way (or maybe it’s just his favorite weapon and wanted it to look cooler).

This mod makes multiple visual changes to the Darkdrift, adding a black flame when used to strike.

Dark Souls 3 Mods On Ps4 Gamestop

No question, this makes the Darkdrift a truly badass weapon. Which it was meant to be.

11. Vulgar Bonfire Text Replacement

The next two mods on the list don’t do much, but are fun to enable.

As the name implies, you should probably keep these away from the kids.

A simple change to the bonfire text, instead of “Bonfire lit” it will now read “It’s Fuckin’ Lit” every time you discover a new bonfire.

Dark Souls players know how a bonfire may be that last light of hope after repeatedly grinding through the most difficult areas of the game.

This simple mod somehow enhances that feeling of achievement when you finally get to that next checkpoint.

10. Vulgar Death Message Replacement

Similar to the Bonfire Text Replacement mod, Vulgar Death Message Replacement changes the death text of the game.

Yes, we all know how iconic that “You Died” fade to black screen has become.

This just changes it into what you’re probably thinking after dying to the same boss for the 30th time.

Somehow though, the mod makes it less annoying to die in the game. Which is always welcome in Dark Souls.

Again, you’re probably going to want to keep the kids away from this one. But then again, if they’re already playing a DS game…

9. Hunter’s Combat

Newer fans of the series are probably more familiar with Bloodborne.

One of the newer games by FromSoftware, Bloodborne veered away from the medieval theme of the previous games and took a more gothic, Victorian approach.

With the Hunter’s Combat mod you can merge a Bloodborne experience with DS3, replacing vanilla weapons, animations, and movements with ones found in Bloodborne.

Good fun for fans of the Soulsborne series as a whole.

8. Wex Dust

Invasions are a huge part of online play in Dark Souls III.

If you enjoy the PvP aspect of the game, you’re probably familiar with Red Eye Orbs.

However if you’re focused on PvP right now, you know how difficult it can be moving from area to area just to find someone to invade. Dince Red Eye Orbs only look for players in your current location.

With this mod, players can now purchase a new item called “Wex Dust” from the Shrine Handmaid. Similar to Red Eye Orbs, except this time you’re matched with players from all areas of the world.

A simple fix to avoid the hassle of finding other people to play with.

7. Ten(10) New Classes

For the more veteran Dark Souls fans: if you feel you’ve gotten the most out of the game, having played through it so many times that there just aren’t any more builds you haven’t tried before, this is something to look into.

10 New Classes does exactly as it says: adds ten unique classes to the vanilla version of the game.

You can now play through the game as either a Spear of the Church, Thorns Knight, Slave Knight, or Wandering Knight, among quite a few others.

Each class has a different set of starting stats as well as new appearances, so now is the best time to get to your next DS3 run.

6. Enable Classic Poise

Many Dark Souls fans were disappointed with the poise mechanic in DS3.

They felt the updated poise mechanics were flawed or even worse, not working at all.

Luckily you can use Enable Classic Poise to make poise stats work like they did in the previous Souls games.

Especially helpful if you’re into tank builds, give this one a try.

5. StraySouls

There are those Dark Souls fans who love the game precisely because of the challenge. Believe it or not, there are mods out there that actually make the game even more difficult.

If you’re into that kind of thing, check out StraySouls.

It basically randomizes enemies, so the trial and error approach we’re all used to no longer comes into play.

You can randomize everything from normal enemies, bosses, and NPCs.

You can even multiply the number of enemies up to 9x the amount in the vanilla version. Why you’d want this, I don’t know. But if you love a challenge(as if vanilla wasn’t enough) check this out.

4. Challenge Mod/NPC Stat Modifier

The next three mods come in a pack by Zullie the Witch. Known as the Challenge Mods pack, each mod gives the game a different kind of difficulty from the original version.

The first is NPC Stat Modifier, which allows you to change HP, damage, and defenses of the NPCs in the game.

Now when summoning NPCs for boss fights, they’ll have the stats that you chose for them.

Whether this makes the game harder or easier is entirely up to you.

3. Challenge Mod/First Person Cam

The next mod is First Person Cam. Yes you read that right.

You can now play Dark Souls III in first person perspective.

As if dodging and parrying attacks wasn’t hard enough, you’ll now have to do so with a much more limited FOV.

Of course, what makes it more challenging is that the game wasn’t intended to be played this way.

This should make for an interesting reimagining of the game.

2. Challenge Mod/Aggression Mod

Last on the list of Challenge Mods is the Aggression Mod.

Simply put, enemies will notice you from farther away and be more persistent in chasing you down once sighted.

As if we needed much more of that in Dark Souls.

Time to git gud, git even better, and prepare to die even more.

1. Cinders

Cinders is probably the largest Dark Souls III mod out there.

A complete overhaul aiming to provide a fresh experience of the game.

Weapons have been rebalanced, making new builds viable and even really fun to test.

You can now even complete the game with a ranger build, focusing on bows rather than swords.

There are additional weapons too, along with new upgrade paths, NPCs, and more.

Basically with Cinders you get tons of additional content from DS gamers themselves, with an unlimited amount of ideas for improving on a game we all love. Definitely give this a try if you can.

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talefoundryshow · 8 months

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Here is your post for next week's Writing Group Prompt…

THE MONSTER OF YOUR STORIES

--Antihero

(P.S. In case it's confusing, since we've had multiple weeks off, the stream scheduled for the 26th is the Can't Rain All the Time stream. Then, if all goes according to plan, the September 2nd stream will be The Monster Of Your Stories!)

#tale foundry #writing group #amwriting #writing prompts #story ideas

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professordiggsy · 3 years

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THE STORY OF THE RAVNICA GAME SO FAR, Part Three:

Krenko’s Way, Part the Third: In which things escalate quickly.

Having successfully navigated the network of sewer tunnels beneath the Undercity, the party arrives at a dead end. After some investigation by Lord A. and Lunan, it is evident that this tunnel--with a maintenance ladder going topside to Foundry Street--is almost certainly the drop point for the weapons crate. After Caaki pries open the maintenance hatch, the party decides to split, briefly: Lurea, Zofgil, and Lord Abe decide to stay below, and keep watch near the crate to ensure it's picked up; while the rest of the group goes topside to seek out leads and survey the area.

As the others climb up to street level, the three of them find hiding places in the shadows to hunker down and wait, keeping in contact through Zofgil's message spell. After about ten minutes of waiting, Lord A.--from his hiding place directly behind the crate--notices a strange mechanical insect crawling out from within the crate. Taking in Lord A's presence and the surrounding area, it opens its tiny wings and flies away, up the maintenance shaft towards Foundry Street...

Meanwhile, the other six adventurers get their bearings on street level, only to now find they are now five instead of six. Sabina is nowhere to be seen, having apparently melted into the nearby crowd. Though Lunan and Alric could hear a faint, melancholy squeaking receding into the distance, it was clear that Sabina's journey followed its own path, for now.

A few minutes later, Nex notices a strange insect flying up from the same sewer grate they had just exited. He tries to knock it out of the air with his sickle, but misses, prompting Lunan to leap forward and grab it with his bare hand. The bug, a mechanical construct of some kind, struggles to break free as the others discuss its presence. The group realizes it is not tailing them, but must be the signaling device Falish mentioned--and if it doesn't get to its destination and signal the drop is ready for pickup, they might lose their chance to locate Krenko without alerting him. With that in mind, Lunan releases the bug (to be specific---a Dimir spybug, modded by Falish for this purpose), which flies off to parts unknown.

The five of them decide to stake out the street corner near the sewer entrance. Alric patrols the block for signs of anything suspicious, while Caaki goes to a nearby newsstand to pick up some hot goss. The human running the stand seemsresistant to give up any details of local goblin gang activity, and even less convinced that the cyclops's interest in such topics is borne out of innocent curiosity. In an attempt to play it cool--or out of a genuine interest in the material--Caaki decides to purchase a pulp romance novel from the man (5cp). His choice? "The Feisty Farmhand", a steamy tale detailing the romance between a Gruul centaur and Selesnyan dryad. It makes for good reading as the group hunkers down to stake out the street corner.

After about a half hour's waiting, down in the sewers, Lurea notices something unusual--a section of tunnel wall slides open, revealing a hidden passage. Two goblins step into the tunnel, and are surprised to find strangers waiting with the cargo. Before they can get a clear answer from Zofgil or Lurea--or draw their weapons--Lord Abernathy jumps up to take command of the situation. In a "I demand to speak to the manager" befitting the truest of aristocrats, Lord Abernathy Hasterforth successfully convinces the goblins that the three of them were hired by Falish to guard the cargo, and to escort it safely to Krenko's hideout. The senior of the two goblins--suitably rattled and perplexed as only Joe Pesci in what was surely the most mediocre work of his film career could be (Moonwalker notwithstanding)--is willing to go with the first part of A's lie, but not the second. If the goblins bring the three adventurers to Krenko, he and his buddy would be in for a world of hurt. Lord A, taking a different tack, tries to convince the goblins that they want Krenko to hire them as mercenaries, and can escort them and the cargo as proof of their loyalty. The goblins again refuse the escort, but offer to send a scroll of Sending for them to set up a meeting once things have blown over. As this is happening, Zofgil sends a Message to the group topside, letting them know the drop is being made (and keeping them on standby in case things go south). Oriana takes this opportunity to convey this info to the others by way of a "drawful" game (drawing in the muddy street with a stick), prompting Lunan to blurt out, loudly, "There's two goblins down in the sewers!"

A few moments later the two goblins carry the weapons crate up to street level, and begin transporting it northward. Although Oriana is ready to dart the goblins at the first opportunity, she doesn't get the chance. A gang of six goblin street toughs, visibly armed and hostile, appear at the opposite corner of the block. Whether they were already nearby, alerted by the newspaper vendor, or heard Lunan shouting is unclear, but they're looking for trouble. The lead goblin spots Alric first, and tries to intimidate him into leaving the street (as he clearly doesn't look like a local). A tense standoff erupts into combat as Alric activates his holy warhammer. Daggers flash, darts and frost rays let fly, and the group makes short work of the thugs (although some ridiculously unplanned lightning strikes from Oriana certainly help), though not without their fair share of injuries.

As the group cleans the wounds, and the street activity returns to its usual hum, a tall man in a silver cloak runs out from the crowd and goes to Lord Abernathy directly. He tells Lord A. that he brings a message from his brother, and a gift--in the form of a swift knee to the groin. Before anyone can come to Abe's defense, the messenger melts back into the crowd. (Unbeknownst to the party at large, this was a staged attack meant to bolster Lord A’s cover story...)

As intriguing as this exchange is--to say nothing of the allegations that Lord A. was exiled from his family estate over accusations of murder--the party has little time to waste. Lurea has already moved ahead of the group, tailing the goblins with the crate. Nex and Zofgil pick up the trail, and they head north towards the docks.

The trail leads the party a short time later to a large abandoned warehouse. Once used by the Boros for armory storage, it is now unremarkable and in disrepair. The building has at least one goblin on partol around its perimeter--the newly formed Rakdos troupe (apparently dubbing themselves "Surprise!") goes to ply their trade and do what they do best--distraction. Though their antics are impressive, and it seems like they just might pull the guard away from his post, a small projectile inexplicably plinks off of the goblin's head (a ball bearing thrown secretly by Lurea), startling it and causing it to try to sound the alarm--and things escalate quickly from there.

Though the goblin is initially prevented from blowing the whistle--literally--on everyone, the sounds of a scuffle alert other nearby guards to the group's presence. While Caaki, Lunan, Oriana, Nex, and Zofgil deal with the two goblins to the north, Lurea scales the side of the building looking for a possible point of entry. Meanwhile, Lord A and Alric, holding defensive positions at the opening of the alley, are surprised by the two other goblins approaching their position. Through some clever traps, intimidation, persuasion (and some light immolation), Lord A. and Alric are able to nonlethally subdue the goblins, gaining two begrudging allies--or hostages--for the moment.

As the goblins on the perimeter become less of a threat, Caaki, Zofgil and Lurea manage to damage the more fire-battered portions of the building to break open a few sizeable access points. The way cleared, Lunan darts into the dimly lit warehouse---but before he can find cover, two crossbow bolts from nearby snipers pierce his torso in an instant, and he falls...gravely wounded.

#ravnica #summary #d&d #my life #the story of the game so far #krenko's way

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devourthedaybluebird · 4 years

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Tale Foundry: Write a Better Future

Tale Foundry: Write a Better Future I don't have all the answers, but here's my response to Tale foundry's prompt: Write a Better Future.

In light of recent events, Tale Foundry changed their prompt for this week. Honestly, things are out of hand right now. I love that Tale Foundry is doing their best to help in this time of change and crisis. All the donations from this week’s stream on Twitch are going to ACLU.

This time of change and fear of course brought an important name to my mind. Federico Garcia Lorca was one of the…

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#fiction #future #politicalunrest #writing

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makokam · 8 months

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Here's my story for the latest prompt from the Tale Foundry.

Follow the link to read the rest. 👇

#writtingcommunity #superhero #chroniclesofthedragon #writing #writing prompt #trauma #patricide

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antihero-writings · 3 years

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In the Temple of Dust

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda (Breath of the Wild)

Character Focus: Link

Summary: After Link completes all the shrines, even though he's stronger than he's ever been...he still isn't sure he can be the hero everyone expects him to be. So some old friends try to cheer him up. Or...maybe they're more than just friends.

Notes: I've been playing Breath of the Wild for the first time lately, so when Tale Foundry's prompt this week ended up being "In the City of Dust" that's immediately where my mind went to, haha! I had to get the BotW fic idea out of my system first. I've also wanted to write a BotW fic since starting, and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity!

This was also a bit inspired by a couple youtube videos: Zeltik's video on the Forgotten Temple potentially being Skyloft, and the Deathly Loneliness Attacks amv.

Please note that I have a very limited knowledge of the Zelda series as a whole (and I have actually not reached this point in my game yet)...so please forgive me if there were any inaccuracies! I tried my best, and I hope it was cool!

I hope you enjoy it! If you do, please consider reblogging, and/or leaving a comment!!

In the Temple of Dust

The hero took a look behind him at the crumbling columns and moss covered stones, the tree breaking out of the wall, and the now destroyed guardians lying among the ruins like the rest, a great sigh of this place, the last things alive silenced.

This whole place felt like a memory, long buried. What once must have been a grand temple now home to skeletons and monsters…and sometimes creatures that were both

He wished he remembered.

He turned forward and made his way to the foot of the goddess, where three chests sat waiting.

As his steps sounded, he heard the faint notes of music. Something like an ocarina. He looked around for the lone player, but there was nothing, no ghosts nor memory. Just, imagination or hallucination.

Did he know this place somewhere, sometime? Now it was nothing more than forgotten; forgotten by more than him alone, enough that that was a part of its name.

The goddess smiled down upon him from her place on high, the statue here taller than any of the others he’d seen, like the people who once lived here were closer to her than anyone else.

He bowed his head to say an extra thanks for good measure.

As he knelt down before the chests, and reached out to open one, his throat held his heart.

This was it. This was the reward of more than a hundred shrines worth of work. The worth of the weight of the world. Surely this would be far more than an ordinary weapon or arrow. This would be the treasure of ages.

It clicked, and he raised the lid. Sitting in the belly of the treasure chest was a green tunic.

He paused a moment to look at it quizzically, before gently reaching in and pulling it out, observing the craftsmanship, the design…trying not to feel disappointed. He wouldn’t have thought the armor of ages would be so plain. But he shouldn’t judge it for looks alone. Surely it was very valuable.

He lay it across his leg and moved on to the next chest. This was a pair of pants to go with the tunic, and the final, a hat, something like a nightcap.

Before he let disappointment overtake him, he decided to put them on. Surely he’d feel something when he did—stronger maybe? They had to be special, important, powerful. They couldn’t be anything less.

But when he put them on, he didn’t feel any stronger, any braver, any better equipped for life’s trials.

He looked at his reflection in a rusty shield in a last ditch attempt to unearth some sort of memory from his subconscious, but only more memoryless mind remained.

The echo of a hero. That’s what he always saw. Echo of a voice laid to rest a hundred years ago. A simple green tunic, without any special abilities, wouldn’t change that.

His face twisted as he groaned, pulling his sword from his back, and swinging it angrily at the air before shoving it into the ground, the sword that seals the darkness merely a stake in the mud, a monument to a lost cause.

He thought this sword would prove his worth, to others as well as himself. When that didn’t work, he thought completing all the shrines would give him answers, make him feel like the hero they all said he was. And though he was stronger than ever, it seemed the emptiness was deeper than that.

He sat on the edge of the staircase.

“Aren’t heroes supposed to have some special powers or something?” he scoffed to the empty air, leaning back against the staircase. “Or at least a sidekick? A memory to their name?” a pause. “I’m sorry I just...” A whisper: “I don’t know if I can save Hyrule after all.”

“What are you talking about?” He started at the sound of a child’s laugh…though the voice sounded oddly distant.

As he reached for the sword he found the speaker was resting his arms casually on the sword. He was indeed a child, but one that looked…oddly similar to himself. Not to mention, well…half transparent.

“You’ve had many powers over the centuries. ” He almost jumped as he saw another version of himself.

“I could control the wind! ” Another raised his hand, this one a child too, even younger than the first.

“I could walk on walls, and between worlds.” If he wasn’t mistaken, it was the painting on the far wall that spoke—he was sure it hadn’t been there before.

“I could become whatever I wanted to be, through the power of putting on a mask, ” said one leaning against the shrine, hiding his face.

“I could control time, ” said the original speaker.

“But that doesn’t make you a hero.” A wolf with strange markings walked in silently, and spoke seemingly with his thoughts.

“Can’t…Can’t you take me back to her then?” the hero asked the ghost of the first speaker. “Before all this started?”

He’d seen more than one ghost before—they even gave power to him. He knew there were enough strange things about this world to be all too fazed by this sight. Besides, perhaps it was just a dream after all. Best enjoy it while it lasts, rather than waste time being freaked out.

The child smiled. “Time was my game. This... ” he backed up, lifting his hands to gesture around him. “This is yours. ”

“What is?”

“Why this world, of course! ”

“It’s so wide, ” the shadowed one spoke.

“You’re freer than you’ve ever been,” said the wolf

“I guess…”

“What’s wrong? ”

“I mean, sure I’ve defeated monsters, and helped some people, and succeeded at the trials but—! What’s that matter if I don’t remember anything? I just…I don’t feel like the hero they all want me to be.”

“Do you think any of us felt like a hero? All we did was go around defeating monsters. ”

“And go on adventures! ” The wind one said, and they chuckled in reply.

“Did you ever consider that maybe being a hero was about more than that?” the time one spoke. “About something in here?" He touched his heart, (though the hero couldn’t feel his fingers).

“And he doesn’t mean the spirit orbs!” the wind one called, and the others laughed.

“You already have it in you.” He held out the sword to him. “I promise.”

“...Does…” He took the sword, observing his reflection in the metal. “Does it have to be this lonely?

“What are you talking about?”

Another version walked out, one who perhaps looked more like himself than the rest, and for a brief moment this place was a city in the clouds. This one’s eyes flicked briefly to the sword before saying,

“You’ve never been alone.”

Link looked around at all the ghosts, seemingly of his past selves, who all smiled in turn, and finally noticed they were all wearing the green tunic. The same one he got from the chests, now placed on his own.

“Now go kick Ganon’s butt!” The wind one put a fist in the air.

More laughter, even a few cheers, and Link smiled, rubbing the back of his neck as he replied.

“Well…I suppose I can at least try.”

The world breathed, and he shut his eyes against the wind. When he opened them again, they were gone.

The scene was a strange one to be sure, and he’d never profess to understand it. He still wasn’t quite sure he’d ever feel like the hero they all expected him to be. But as Link picked up the Master Sword, and walked back out in the world, the words of ghosts and lost memory ringing real in his head, he felt, at the very least, more like a hero than he did yesterday.

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