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While I agree, it is only because I enjoy crippling my prisoners.

Chapter 1. The Nest

"Carro Busto is his name", the trader nudged you as you stared at the man who had a husky and a retreiver at his side with a very finely made steel longsword at his hip. But you had seen this sort of people before, it was his face. The man known as Hornet was the leader of this village. His face was torn and scars littered his neck to hide beneath his shirt and duster. Dented and bent was his helmet, Hornet was a true veteran.

He lost a good portion of his nose and it left a terrible mutilation that was patched up. It looked like an animal had torn and clawed at his face, his hands on his blade as well as his neck showed old injuries. "He's no pretty boy", the trader laughed in the little building set up for outsiders visiting and trading. Many people stared and laughed at Hornet as he did his daily job. Hornet paid the women and men no mind and inspected goods and helped to trade, silver passing through many hands.

With a beer thrown on the table in front of you, the trader with you smiled, "They make it here and it is their main trade. People come just for the beer, it ain't half bad and no one worries about getting some weird disease or gut worm." He took a big drink and as did you after inspecting it. A little earthy but it wasn't half bad.

"I heard some stories about Hornet, and everyone knows he lost his face to some panthers but I haven't seen you around before. So lets spread some gossip!" He held up his bottle and you toast with him, mildly interested in hearing about the man called Hornet.

"He's not just the leader of this village for no reason, he led the charge against the Gorar of the River! They had been attacking in vengence after Hornet slew a tradesman from the tribe." This trader got a little more quiet as his eyes watched Hornet pass him by to another Caravan.

Silence for a moment as he passed and the man seemed to gain his courage and voice back, if only a little in a slightly hushed tone. "White, the Gorar's leader led the largest attack seen since 200 years. They swarmed this village and I hear in reyaliation, Hornet's men rained down on them with a hail of incendiary mortars." He moved his head over to the back wall where the entrance to the village was. "You saw all that security right? You had to have." You recall seeing the turrets on each side as you came in along with some traps that you barely had caught with your eye, Hornet being the one who had guided the influx of traders into the post away from the entrance for safety.

"There were too many for even that to properly take care of, two men posted on guard by the turrets with shotguns and the damn tribals were jumping right into the ditches built near the mountain while under heavy fire. Hornet there? His dogs shread at them as they walk through the traps and attack the sentries and turrets. Hornet? He challenges that bastard White head on with two others right at the entrance." He points to a lady who was seen cleaning the area and serving the traders as needed with food and drink. "I hear this story from her, she was captured that day, and lost her leg to Hornet." Her leg had indeed been replaced, a prosthetic in its place, handled with simple wirings and computing to do as the user wanted.

Your attention is soon drawn back to the trader. "They got a tombstone for White outside the gate. Hornet had gone toe to toe with one of the best spearmen this side of the planet. White ends up going low but Hornet charges foward well. I heard Hornet lost his toe but in exchange, White was sliced at the neck, cut clean off. Remaining man there ended up running away along with the rest of the craven." He finishes his beer so it didn't warm on him. "Don't screw with that man."

You hear some loud ringing of bells and a scrawny man comes running in, bursting through the door. "Hornet it's the Pirates, they are coming!" Hornet draws his blade and his dogs follow behind him, past the window you can see others with sniper rifles run past, soon followed by shotgunners to take up position for defense. A loud rumbling was heard. Some yelling ensued and all the traders remained at their tables, looking to the source. A large explosion blew the wooden wall of the tavern down and the trader just sitting with you lay dead from the shrapnel, inadvertently shielding you.

Through the smoke, they charged the caravan guards who shot at them with pistols and bolt action rifles. At least the ones not affected or trapped in rubble. Many began to die around you as the table you were at became your cover. Drawing your own pistol, breathing feels heavy and hurts a little. With your back now to the table for cover, you look back into the room, forced to watch men and women die. You feel your arm suddenly being tugged at. "You are comin with me young'in" an old man with some scars on his face and an assault rifle in his right hand grabs you with his left. The room being defeated, the injured and surrendered were being grabbed. Being dragged towards the smoke, you could only accept your fate. Hornet suddenly came running through the room, a sword piercing the man's arm on you to force him to release. With a swift motion and pulling back, legs stanced wider for power you watch as Hornet pierces his chest and the man falls quickly. "Get the hell up kid!" You follow his direction and get up, the dogs ripping into the other pirates, Hornet rushes one of the men and cleanly slices his chest forcing him to fall quickly. The third pirate had a large shiv in his hands and while bitten on his leg, he reached down and stabbed the dog in the neck. Hornet's husky had fallen. With no emotion on his face, he was already at the pirate's front and sliced his leg off, leaving him useless on the ground.

A whistle and his retriever was at his side. Reaching for your arm, he rushes you both outside, the village was on fire. "I'm going for my wife, what are you going to do?"

Go with hornet?
or
Run out the entrance?

I'll let you guys choose. I was reading some old goosebumps books and I liked the choices they gave for story direction. I figure I would try the same, Chapter 2 will be out sometime in 2 or 3 days so most voted on choice wins. Let me know what you guys think as well. Thanks, Age.

Sensual vomitting

Oh, from what is said it seemed like the doctor went rogue and just started to slice up people randomly

That is also true as well. Honestly you interpret it as you will, who am I but the writer. It is you who takes whatever messages you want from a story

Awakening protocols entered...
Sentient organic life massing detected...
Launching scout vessel...

A bright white screen filled a sudden void in this narrow tube. Its engines began to purr, "Calculating Trajectory". A monotone voice came from the screen talking to the empty metal walls and doors of the interior. "Target confirmed", and the engines began to tear at the ground as soil, sand and rocks were thrown from the thrust of thr engines.  The tube lifted quickly enough after the warm up and it made it to the planet's stratosphere before the engines cut to allow the ship to use smaller thrusters to right its direction before the main thruster engaged once more. Wothout slowing down, the ship came hurdling back toward the ground, the air's friction caught flame on the outside of the shell. With a hard crash the tube left quite a crater and yet remained mostly undamaged. Flames caught gently on the surrounding grassland dancing in the wind.

"Observing", a small latch the size of coffee mug opened up to allow insect sized droids to release. The tribes men had built a wooden wall surrounding their huts and livestock which the small mechanical insects easily flew over. The insects made their way into the homes of the unknowing, quietly observing the organics as they speak at eachother pointing to the where the tube landed. As they spoke and argued the tube was coated in bacterias not native to the land. Essentially turning the land and air around it toxic. It would only spread further.

Time passed for some days, animals died in the area and the toxicity spread over the walls and the people and their livestock began to get sick. It would of had to been the thing that landed, so they set forth a small party. Stabbing at it with spears and bashing it with clubs did not even leave a scratch but a sudden voice came from this object. "Safety measures engaged" and the tube opened up, doors and pods reveal machines to these people, a large mass of rings would spin and undulate to move along with two more machines. Their arms bladed and their bodies tall. Mechanical heads looked to the people and they moved fast. Throwing a pila, it only scratched these hell monsters. The people were sliced and gunned down by the gatling gun of the larger worm-like droid as they ran away.

None escaped and now the machine's protocols came to self preservation. They made their way to the walls, tearing them down with sheer power. A slaughter ensued.

The village lay aflame and destroyed, bodies littered the ground and five survivors managed to escape this hell. Whatever supplies and weapons they could manage to grab, they did. They had to run away as fast as they can and start a new life in hopes of never reliving that nightmare again.

The machines had gone back to their tube for now, settling back in once all organic life in the local area was no longer functioning. The mechanicals all returned to the tube, the doors and latches close and systems turn off.

Four years later the screen would light up, the bright white light tearing through the darkness inside.

Awakening protocols entered...
Sentient organic life massing detected...
Launching scout vessel...


I hope you guys enjoy this one. I read the scenario story of the tribals and thought I would try and imagine the background. I won't say this is my best work but I have not had my coffee yet.

What I wonder is how the colonists were stupid enough to allow him to kill em all, still, cool story.

God is the player, and in this case me, after I got bored

The first letter of every paragraph

JOHN CENA!!!

Winner winner.

Wow, that is great writing. I wish there was more great story tellers like you on the forums to give life to all the great stories Rimworld can offer.

It is a good inspiration, it can be harder to reimagine events into something bigger than it actually is and that is where people get blocked. Details, organization and stretching a story to make a epic is no small feat no matter the influence.

Truly glorious!

The only glory here is the fact that you enjoyed my story. Thank you.

Agertor? Was his name Agertor?

It is a simple riddle really. A very very simple riddle.

I like this. Its maniacal. More.

Okay if you ask it.


Just as every night the old fort stood quietly. The people merry and their bellies full. The forests provided plenty to these settlers from the stars. Food, medicine and weapons were plenty. Trade with the tribals and other settlers provided steady supplies and livestock with only the occasional raid of the local banditry.

Others would think it strange but this walled off village was happy. Very, very happy. Grandiose statues line the work places with lights glowing from the walls at night as if a beacon of hope.

However within the walls was the cave of a certain doctor. He toiled away every night, the dark caverns lit by occasional lanterns flickering in the dark to give a dim lighting through these tight halls. Humidity and evaporating rains would condensate on the ceiling. It kept this sanctuary to the doctor quite comfortable. Crack, crack, crack. He swung his axe over and over.

Nights like this made good to sneak away prisoners at night into his workshop. He worked as if he found some sort of light, as if a god commanded him. Deeper in the cavern still behind a steel door barring off any light lay the starved and insane. Raiders, law breakers and the unwanted lay in this dark room. The doctor really liked to just... amputate. Replacing legs with pegs and cutting organs out. Experiments were common and the victims would be brought back to the cells with a lost leg or arm, maybe an organ cut out.

Cells they were provided were dark and not fed. His latest experiment on the table was dying of infection. So the good doctor would give him god's medicine. Amputation. He whacked his axe cutting into the leg of his patient who was barely awake from herbal remedies given to him. The patient was kept drowsy, but alert and feeling. The doctor found it necessary that his patients feel as much as they could without passing out. How else would thry experience the same joy as he gave them after all?

Every night screams lined the walls of the cave while music and festivities every night would drown their screams for help which suited the doctor just fine. As long as he helped the colonists as they wished he could just tell them a few escaped here or there. His supply of prisoners was always refilled and when brought into the emergency room, no colonist would question where an organ they needed came. He hated that. They didn't feel anything. The colonists of the settlement got medicine that put them to sleep and made them feel no pain. The best care for them.

"Nevermind them", he would think. He loved his moments in the cave. This couldn't last forever. The god who gave him his orders was brutal and malicious. But he was kind to the settlers. "Why?" the doctor thought to himself. Great joy could be given to everyone! It was his responsibility as a doctor. They needed the best care he could give. But not in the god's way. No it would be done his way. His chance came soon when good medicine wore thin with a lack of trade for some time.

Amputate. It was time to amputate. He finally gave the colonists experiences they could never forget! What joy! This was everything he wanted. God could not protect these colonists. He was god now! He made the decisions and it was his pleasure to see their faces as some died from various infections leaving the nights quieter and quieter over time. His prisoners had all also died soon enough without food or care. Soon the lit walls held just the good doctor. All alone. With his passion unable to be fulfilled any longer. He plunged a scalpel into his heart. His name was...

I'd rather eat Randy.

Eat Randy
Eat Randy
Eat Randy

(I'm sorry for bad memes)

That got dark fast

I do love me writing a quick dark story

This is pretty dark... 

I wear my sunglasses at night when I write.

A dry wind flows over the arid landscape, carrying with it the faint sound of carnival music. Perhaps his life was actually meant for this. He had been a clown entertainer for so many years but it has never quite felt... so right. At least not like this moment. He shuts off the channel that the old tube was turned to that had been playing carnival and kids tunes. The air was now silent. He smiled, and not just the painted smile he had on his face that was sloppily melting from sweat and the natural oils of his face. Today was a good day where he was free!

Around the man, large robotic creatures began to encircle him as he stood over what was his audience. Friends, loved ones, and even his son lay among them. Stabbed to death. His make up, their blood and bodily fluids, and his grin.

That grin was of a man posessed, the machine had told him, nay, screamed at him. This is what he needed to do. For days and days he resisted that call but his mental threshold could only go so far.

So he decided to start a party. He was an entertainer afterall, smearing the blood of old, rotten corpses that had fell to their base defenses, he starts the party. Nobody had noticed until it was too late.

With screams and gunfire, he cut them down like a madman, his face renewed with each corpse he left laying on the ground. That permanent bloodied smile with twisted music had never failed this party.

Injured badly, he felt the malicious screaming in his head finally stop. He looked down and saw many wounds and bruises on his body. A silent scream as a scythe from one of the machines took his neck.