Reply to A story game
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Okay, like other story games, this one is a continuous one made by the whole forum. Now, this doesn't have to be a Dink Story, it can be anything. The only rules are: No more than five words per post; Nobody can double post, you have to wait for another person to post. If three days pass without a new post, you can then double post; No incoherent words or phrases, but you can be creative with humor; The story has to end with something epic, such as a battle with a being of ultimate power.
I'll start with a small paragraph to set things up, then the first person to post will be able to start off. The main character doesn't appear here as he would in the main part of the story. It'll be a prologue of sorts.
'Rain poured heavily into the small village of Faren as a cloaked figure rode in on horse. The figure looked around, searching. Hunting. He held up a arrowhead on a string, a pendulum, and held it over his gloved palm by the end of the string. The wind stopped dead, the rain slowly stopped falling. The pendulum moved slowly around in circles before it shot toward the south. The figure grinned, his mouth filled with black fangs. He rode off toward the south, but was unaware that another force had been at work. When he was far from Faren, a baby cried in his crib.
Fifteen years later:
"I don't like yer nephew." An old man said to Jacob, the father of a young boy. "What's his name again?" Jacob smiled as he replied...'
Now it's your guy's turn!
I'll start with a small paragraph to set things up, then the first person to post will be able to start off. The main character doesn't appear here as he would in the main part of the story. It'll be a prologue of sorts.
'Rain poured heavily into the small village of Faren as a cloaked figure rode in on horse. The figure looked around, searching. Hunting. He held up a arrowhead on a string, a pendulum, and held it over his gloved palm by the end of the string. The wind stopped dead, the rain slowly stopped falling. The pendulum moved slowly around in circles before it shot toward the south. The figure grinned, his mouth filled with black fangs. He rode off toward the south, but was unaware that another force had been at work. When he was far from Faren, a baby cried in his crib.
Fifteen years later:
"I don't like yer nephew." An old man said to Jacob, the father of a young boy. "What's his name again?" Jacob smiled as he replied...'
Now it's your guy's turn!
