The PPC Posting Board - Latest posts

Don't bottle 'em up, let them out. You can contact me via my email (which should be clickable) or on Discord (you'll see me on the PPC server). Let me know if you have any prompts you want to see answered by people here. I'd be more than happy to have a look at them and probably use them at some point. After all, it saves me from having to come up with my own.

Novastorme.

It is well known that one of the most popular activities for girls in Middle-earth is joining the Fellowship of the Ring and saving the day; I mean, given a choice between that and dying of dysentery, wouldn't you?

Most female Walkers are Suvians, of course, but a while back Kaitlyn and Selene took on a fic where Rosie, Diamond, and Estella tried to join the Ringbearer's party. That got me thinking: is there a way to get a woman into the Fellowship that works?

In fact (thought I), let's go for broke: is there a way to get nine women into the Fellowship?

The answer, it turned out, was (at least in the Movieverse) yes:


(deviantArt: The Inopportune Storm: The Fellowship of the Ring)

The full account of how this came about is up on deviantArt, but a quick summary goes like this:

---

While Boromir was riding to Rivendell, a storm (sent by Sauron) over Rohan broke his arm. Eowyn took up his message, going to the elves in Lothlorien, where Galadriel chose to escort her to Rivendell.

The storm headed through Mirkwood (where it made the woods dangerous enough that Legolas took Tauriel along with him to Rivendell), crossed the Misty Mountains (flooding the passes and causing Dis, sister of Thorin, to break her journey back to Erebor in Rivendell), and hit the Shire just as Frodo and Sam were leaving Bag-End.

The weather forced them to spend the night at the Green Dragon, where Sam spilled the beans to Rosie. She told her friends, Angelica Baggins (devoted but vain niece of Bilbo) and Pearl Took (Pippin's older sister, probable political assassin), and the trio decided to chase the boys down at Bree. (No Merry and Pip in this one; their chance Movieverse encounter never happens.)

At Bree, Pearl gets attacked by the Nazgul, leading Aragorn to take the five Hobbits into the Old Forest seeking help. Goldberry tends to Pearl - and when Pearl refuses to leave her friends, Goldberry comes along with them.

Aragorn leads what's now a party of seven (including himself) to Weathertop, but the size of the group + Pearl's injury means everything's a little bit slower. Long story short, Frodo dies on the banks of Bruinen, with Arwen unable to save him.

At the Council, Bilbo pulls his Bookverse trick of trying to take up the Quest... but this time it's Angelica who steps in to take the Ring instead of him. The rest of the Nine each have their own reasons for going (Rosie & Pearl to stay with Angelica, Goldberry to stay with Pearl, Arwen to spend time with Galadriel, Dis to spend time with Tauriel, and Eowyn is heading that way anyway), and the Fellowship is declared.

---

So far, that's where the story ends. For the Middle-earth types on the Board (whatever your degree of knowledge or lack thereof): how do you think this Fellowship's story would go? Would having all of the bearers of the Three in Rivendell help in their planning? Would Galadriel try and take them over Caradhras (and if so, would the fact that she, Arwen, and Goldberry all have a magical connection to water mean they could avert the snowstorm?)? Would Angelica, whose only canon trait is being so vain that Bilbo left her a mirror, be able to stand up to the strain of the Ring? What would happen when a trio of (essentially) water-mages ran into trouble along the Anduin? Precisely how dead would the Lord of the Nazgul be?

And, perhaps most importantly: in the inevitable, endless fanfic, who would the fans relentlessly ship together?

hS

;a;

;A;

... Talk about a rough life. Sometimes trying to do something good gets you nothing but pain.

And uncalled-for implants.

Therefore, I'd better do this one. Should probably have warnings for something, but I'm not sure exactly what.


Francis sat at the desk, reading through a copy of the latest magi-scientific journal. The paper on Elvish societies wasn’t really the sort of thing that interested him, but he made a point of reading every article. You never knew when the information might come in handy.

On the floor in front of him, Tiger and Holly were playing a board game, or trying to: each of them kept accusing the other of cheating. They were both as bad as each other, or as good as each other, depending on your point of view.

The door suddenly jerked open. Francis looked up from the journal to see Alice standing in the door, looking absolutely furious.

“Hello, dear,” he said calmly, wondering what had set off her red-hot temper this time.

“Don’t you “dear” me, you evil man!” shouted Alice.

“What makes you think I’m evil?” asked Francis, as if curiously.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly guess. Maybe… I don’t know… hiring an assassin to eliminate your rival?”

Francis was surprised – how on earth had she known that? – but he concealed it effortlessly. “I – I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He knew it was no use trying to talk his way out of this, but he could buy himself a bit of time.

“Really?” she said. “Then what is this?”

She pulled a document out of her pocket, unfolded it, and threw it onto his desk.

Francis merely moved it aside so he could continue reading. He already knew what the document said: it was an agreement between himself and one of the best assassins in the land to, as Alice had put it, “eliminate his rival” in exchange for generous payment.

“Well?” said Alice furiously. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t pry into my secret documents.”

That was enough for Alice to snap. She began yelling terrible words, spells to strike fear into even Francis’s heart.

Objects all around arose to do Alice’s bidding, and flung themselves at Francis. His drawer sprung out and the dagger in it leaped up.

He was only just able to duck in time to avoid it hitting his throat. Instead, it dug into his cheek. He pulled it out and hastily said a protective charm, blocking Alice’s magic from coming within a metre of him.

Then he felt his cheek. His hand came away covered in blood. He knew it would take all of his magic to heal a wound made with his own dagger, and that the scar would never fade. “I think you’re being a bit of a hypocrite, Alice. That was pretty evil magic you just used.

He heard a scream from outside and saw Holly running away on her tiny legs, abandoning the board. Tiger, too, retreated to a safe distance, and then asked “Mummy, why are you hurting Daddy?”

Alice ignored him and said: “Right. That’s it. I’ve had enough. I’m leaving.”

“Fine,” said Francis, reaching for a handkerchief to mop the blood off his cheek. “Goodbye.”

Alice looked startled at his rather unemotional reaction. “Come on, children,” she said, but neither Tiger nor Holly moved.

Because I can. Trigger warnings for allusions to rape.


“What’s your name?” 8386071 asked the sweating, trembling young man. An angry red scar was seared on his chest; he’d been recently implanted.

“Coryn,” the man said. “You?”

8386071 shrugged. “No name, just a number. They call me the Scorpion in the arena, but only because my number’s a mouthful to say. Those of us who were born here ain’t got names. Where are you from, Coryn?”

“Ord Mantell.”

8386071 frowned, trying to remember the stories he’d heard from the other slaves. “That’s… er…”

“Bright Jewel system, Mid Rim,” Coryn said. “I was a soldier in the civil war and got sold as a prisoner.”

“Civil war?” 8386071 decided not to tell Coryn he had no idea where any of those places were supposed to be.

“Gods, they really don’t tell you lot anything, do they?” Coryn drew his knees up to his chest, staring out the barred window that opened to the sandy arena outside. The sleeping quarters were vacant; everyone else was training, the dull thud-thud of the wooden practice weapons resonating as they hit their targets.

“Not really, no,” 8386071 said. “It’s… well, I’d be lying if I said it ain’t so bad, but stories I hear from the other gladiators, other places have it loads worse than we do. Just avoid Harkon and his men when they’re in a bad mood, say ‘yessir’ and ‘no sir’, and don’t ask for second helpings, and you should be alright.”

Coryn let out a barking laugh. “Oh, and that’s supposed to make me feel better about having my freedom ripped away from me?”

“Well… no,” 8386071 said slowly, “but—”

“But what? I wouldn’t expect you to understand what it was like,” Coryn said bitterly. “I’m never going to see my family again. I had a little girl, a daughter, my Yalena…” He reached up to wipe his eyes, and 8386071 hesitated before offering him a corner of his blanket. Coryn pressed it to his face, shoulders beginning to shake.

“I’ll help you,” 8386071 said quietly. “We all will.”

“What, escape?”

“Survive.”

Coryn shook his head, setting the blanket aside. “Live as a slave,” he muttered disdainfully.

Footsteps echoed in the hall outside and a strange gleam came into Coryn’s eye.

A key scraped in the lock.

“Or die free!” Coryn yelled, throwing himself at the door.

“CORYN, NO!” 8386071 bolted after him, heart pounding as Coryn plowed through Harkon and Ra’viss, knocking them over. 8386071 leapt over their prone forms. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

Harkon climbed to his feet and pulled out his detonator.

“CORYN—!”

And then everything went white.


“He’s fading fast.”

“More blood!

“I don’t know if it’s possible to save him, the damage is too—”

“SILENCE! I won’t have my prize gladiator dead because you imbeciles can’t attach a new arm!”

Drifting. Pain. Ringing.

“Why his eye, though? They’re both undamaged.”

“Might as well upgrade him while you’re here.”

“Understood.”

Stabbing. Gouging. Tearing.

Searing. Scorching. Burning.

Nothing.


When he woke up, he was back in the sleeping quarters, and for a moment, he thought it was all a dream, until he realized that this was a different room than the one they normally stayed in, and it was crowded with twice the usual number of people.

“Hey, look, the Scorpion’s awake!” Mako called, and there was a sudden rustle as people turned to look.

8386071 blinked up at them blearily. Something about his vision was off. It was… half red. His body felt heavy. His face itched and his arm felt like it was on fire.

“Are you alright?” Dinah asked anxiously. Worry creased her face. Her voice felt off, tinny, almost, and yet more clear than he’d ever heard before. Sounds were sharper.

8386071 tried to speak, but his voice rasped.

There was a faint splashing noise, and then Jeyla was there, holding a rag to his lips and squeezing water into his mouth. He sucked it down gratefully.

He blinked again. It felt… wrong. Only one eye was blinking. But he could see out of both of them?

“What happened?” 8386071 croaked.

“You know damn well what happened!” Mako snapped. “You idiot, thought you’d chase down the newcomer and what, hold him down? Nearly got yourself killed when he detonated! If you weren’t so injured, I’d beat you myself!”

“That’s enough, Mako,” 427787 snapped.

Mako folded his arms, glaring at 8386071.

“You lost your right arm,” Jeyla said. “And your left eye. I’m not sure what else they had to repair…”

8386071 forced his head to turn. The dull grey metal of his new arm weakly reflected the sunlight and bounced back up in his face. He closed his eyes. Eye. The other one wasn’t so bothered by the glare, and he could feel its vibrations in his skull as he looked sideways with it. He could see worried and angry faces, but that wasn’t all—beating hearts, pulsing arteries, and heaving lungs were now visible, hot red in contrast to the pale redness of the room.

He looked back up at the ceiling. “How long before I’m back in the arena?” he asked. It was the only thing he could think to say in that moment. He’d process what had happened to him later.

“Don’t know, kid,” 427787 said. “You’re already back to good condition from what we heard, but the Master doesn’t want you out in the arena until you’re used to the upgrades. And because of that… well, I’ve got bad news for you.”

8386071’s mouth went dry. “No…”

“The Master’s decided to bump your breeding ahead of schedule,” Mako said. “Since you’re useless in a fight for the moment, he figured he’s going to put you to work in bed.” He laughed. “Have fun, kid. First time always is.”

29 was a good age. :) Enjoy!

And yes, all the things about "just wait, after 30..." are true!!!

Though IIRC, when I came up with the nickname, it was Hell + gal vs. a modification of Helga. After all, my real name is Anna, totally different from anything remotely resembling Helga. :)

Have a notepad with the launch codes of your choice written on it.

How did your character get that scar/tattoo/bionic/other feature they weren't born with?

I might even know how to go about filling this one, if I have time.

~Neshomeh had a hectic week at work and a busy weekend.

But since you called for it, the paragraph starting with Ten hours later appears to contain too few "had". Since most of the following had happened (in past perfect) before the events that are narrated in past tense, it should read: "Ten hours later, the pov had grown bored and had¹ wandered off again. Kozar had come back, had had dinner, and had gone to sleep; when he awoke and came out of his bedroom to find breakfast, the Reader had barely moved. "

¹ Supposing that the pov didn’t just wander off when Kozar awoke, which, if this is the case, should be made clearer.

Also, I think the word order is off in Some of the ends were still caught in the bun, but that didn't much help: what was left of it was hopelessly lopsided.
"that didn’t help much" would look much better to me.

But actually I’m here to say that enjoying this interlude was worth the effort to try and catch up.

HG

Have a brownie!

Have a cake.

So yeah, today's birthday, and I am officially 29... just one year off from being 30... even though I look half that age...

I'm gonna go watch some YouTube videos, that might cheer me up a bit.

One of your characters receives news.

Two characters meet for the first time.

One of your characters forgets something.

Hi guys,

I'm taking this one off. If anyone else wants to come up with some prompts for this fortnight feel free. I'd only ask that you respect 2 things:
1) Post them in response to this post, don't make new Board posts for each time someone comes up with a prompt.
2) No more than 4 prompts max. A selection is nice, but not too many please.

I will probably return to doing prompts in two weeks, we will have to see.

Novastorme

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RNLYb40DP6o&t=22s

X')

(It's okay. You're the second person whose username constantly reminds me of something from a game I love, the first being Guardsman Tom when he was still around. The fact that his username always made me think of the Guard enemy from Wolfenstein 3D even resulted in the creation of a Shipfest fic.)

-Twistey

I myself, at least during my Scratch days, have had a history of trying to do long-term things and then immediately dropping them as soon as I got distracted.

-Twistey

I've already made some PPC "memes" via Walfas. Three of them included how various Boarders are perceived by badficcers and by newbies versus how they actually are, one of them was a random Huinesoron quote in visual form, and one of them was about the 2017 Badfic Games. Since I now have to download Walfas in order to use it, I'm going to be using other programs instead, but PPC memes shall be in order.

-Twistey