NeverEverEnding story

VRlass

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Joined
Jul 15, 2022
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Bardo (srsly, that’s the name)
Hi guys, lets play a neverending story game:
Rules:
  1. you post no more no less than 50 words that are direct continuation of previous thread.
  2. you dont post more than once per page
  3. if you have more than 50 words - cut in the middle of a sentence
  4. remember to have fun
  5. extra points for creativity
  6. Invite/challenge others if you think they could make good addon (but if someone else writes first - its ok :p)
I can start:
I challenge @The Judge or @Victoria Silverwolf or @Peter V (but feel free to jump in)


The night was dark as a conscience of a local tax collector, and the only light was coming from an inn. The cloaked person tried to sneak in without maknig much noise, but all the noises died instead. The people knew the cloaked folk in the stories allways means trouble…
 
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The night was dark as a conscience of a local tax collector, and the only light was coming from an inn. The cloaked person tried to sneak in without making much noise, but all the noises died instead. The people knew the cloaked folk in the stories always means trouble… was it not the Cloaked who had brought Devastation to All? Unlike the Kings tax collectors, their consciences never prickled behind the surety of their deeds. The Inn brought both welcome warmth to the bones, and unwelcome cold to the heart at the intrusive presence of one of the Cloaked.
 
The night was dark as a conscience of a local tax collector, and the only light was coming from an inn. The cloaked person tried to sneak in without making much noise, but all the noises died instead. The people knew the cloaked folk in the stories always means trouble… was it not the Cloaked who had brought Devastation to All? Unlike the Kings tax collectors, their consciences never prickled behind the surety of their deeds. The Inn brought both welcome warmth to the bones, and unwelcome cold to the heart at the intrusive presence of one of the Cloaked.

'Mind if I use your toilet?', asked the cloaked figure.

'Depends what you use it for', growled a voice from the crowd of quiet punters.

'Uh, just a poo', replied the figure.

'Big, or small?' whispered someone.

'Small.'

'Liar', yelled the crowd in unison, 'that's what your type always say.'
 
The night was dark as a conscience of a local tax collector, and the only light was coming from an inn. The cloaked person tried to sneak in without making much noise, but all the noises died instead. The people knew the cloaked folk in the stories always means trouble… was it not the Cloaked who had brought Devastation to All? Unlike the Kings tax collectors, their consciences never prickled behind the surety of their deeds. The Inn brought both welcome warmth to the bones, and unwelcome cold to the heart at the intrusive presence of one of the Cloaked.

'Mind if I use your toilet?', asked the cloaked figure.

'Depends what you use it for', growled a voice from the crowd of quiet punters.

'Uh, just a poo', replied the figure.

'Big, or small?' whispered someone.

'Small.'

'Liar', yelled the crowd in unison, 'that's what your type always say.'


‘What are you accusing me of?’

‘Of one who doesn’t give a poo, that’s who!’ yelled the crowd as they stood clenching their fists.

‘Chipmunk!’, cried the cloaked one pointing towards the fireplace.

With the crowd’s attention now diverted, the cloaked one went towards the privy but turned right at
 
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The night was dark as a conscience of a local tax collector, and the only light was coming from an inn. The cloaked person tried to sneak in without making much noise, but all the noises died instead. The people knew the cloaked folk in the stories always means trouble… was it not the Cloaked who had brought Devastation to All? Unlike the Kings tax collectors, their consciences never prickled behind the surety of their deeds. The Inn brought both welcome warmth to the bones, and unwelcome cold to the heart at the intrusive presence of one of the Cloaked.

'Mind if I use your toilet?', asked the cloaked figure.

'Depends what you use it for', growled a voice from the crowd of quiet punters.

'Uh, just a poo', replied the figure.

'Big, or small?' whispered someone.

'Small.'

'Liar', yelled the crowd in unison, 'that's what your type always say.'


‘What are you accusing me of?’

‘Of one who doesn’t give a poo, that’s who!’ yelled the crowd as they stood clenching their fists.

‘Chipmunk!’, cried the cloaked one pointing towards the fireplace.

With the crowd’s attention now diverted, the cloaked one went towards the privy but turned right at...

a table where he quickly traded his clock for a heavy frock from a passed-out forester. Taking the forester’s flagon, he then strolled over to the nearby bar and placed the flagon down and addressed the bar maid.

“So, my fair maiden.”

“Madam, to you sir.”

“Sorry, madam.” He tipped his head in respect, “Do you know of a place where a crow might stay the night, where visitors are not welcomed?”
 

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