《Run, Run, Run》Three
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Torv was exhausted and allowed himself to shut his eyes in the safest place he could find on short notice. He was nestled in the hollow of an old tree. It was dead; struck by lightning and rotted through, but held up for centuries between its two neighboring trees as a lone sentinel from a time before their roots had first grown. It was dry enough in the hollow, and Torv curled into a ball under his cloak. Whether he was asleep for hours or mere moments, it was dark when he was rudely awoken.
Torv was hazy, having not truly slept in a long time, and having let himself get some actual rest, waking up was difficult. It appeared to his sleep-befuddled brain that a large stick was hovering in the air and poking him hard in the sternum.
-Ow, stick stop that! I’m sleeping.
But the stick did not stop and it was not a dream but a real piece of wood that was repeatedly jabbing the young man in the chest. Torv pulled his cloak about him and rubbed at his eyes. When he opened them and they were clear of sleep the image became no less dream-like. The sight that greeted his eyes was this: a large, brown, barn owl was seated upright on the top of a well-worn walking stick. As if to demonstrate that balancing was not his only trick, and that it had indeed been him who woke up Torv, with a powerful downward push of wings, the owl flew from its perch, clutched the stave in its claws, and with another flap of wings swung that stave into Torv’s chest rudely.
-I see you’re awake, the owl said. If you would kindly follow me.
-Is it far?
In Torv’s state of exhaustion, whether or not he was going to have to walk far was more important than discussing the owl’s various impressive skills.
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-Not far. Come along, Torv.
The owl dropped the walking stick at Torv’s feet and he picked it up. It was a blessing as his travel was finally catching up with him and each step was a tortuous slog through fatigue. With the walking stick helping keep him from falling down ignominiously, the unlikely pair made their way from the hollow of the old tree to a path through tall ferns that Torv never would have noticed had the owl not led him to it, but once he was safely walking along was as obvious as a large nose on a pinched face. The brown owl hovered low above the ferns, circling back repeatedly for Torv’s slow gait but showing no signs of impatience or annoyance, which was a great relief given the alacrity with which he had whacked Torv’s sternum with the walking stick.
The bird did not lie. They reached their destination after only a short walk through the ferns. It was a house. Or, rather a dwelling. It was the meeting point of an indeterminate number of trees which, while still very much alive and full of leaves and birds and who knows what else, were all twisted together about thirty feet from the ground, creating a natural yurt. The end of the fern path came directly up to the door or opening into the yurt and it was here that the owl flew up into the upper canopy of the dwelling/trees.
-Go on in now. He’s waiting for you. I must go to sleep now.
And with that, the owl was gone. Torv walked into the structure expecting it to be dark and a bit dank, but it was nothing of the sort. While the trees had twisted together tightly enough to create an insulated, snug structure of warmth and security, there were also thousands of tiny pinpricks of light shining through the canopied ceiling and walls. The furnishings of a simple, country cottage barely registered to Torv, so taken was he by the architecture of the place.
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-I see you like my home.
The voice belonged to a very old man standing with his back to the fireplace, his hands tucked neatly behind him, a benevolent smile playing about his lips. His clothes were earth-colored, his hair and beard white, and his eyes a luminous, dark brown as of fertile soil.
-I’m Torv Mannold.
-I know who you are, Torv. But I suppose you haven’t the slightest idea who I might be.
-It’s true, I don’t. I do thank you for your hospitality.
-I hope old Icarus wasn’t too rough with you?
Torv rubbed the sore spot on his sternum.
-I’ve had worse.
-And will yet, I imagine. Tea?
Torv very much wanted some tea, and could not remember the last time he had experienced such a luxury. The old man chattered to himself as he put on a kettle and doled out the tea leaves, but it wasn’t until he and Torv sat down across from each other in front of the old man’s cozy fireplace, each of them with a steaming mug in hand, the aroma of tea filling the living house that the old man cleared his throat and spoke directly to his guest.
-I suppose I ought to introduce myself.
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46 Year Old Syndrome
The daily Litrpg journal of a fairly average 46 year old man in a world where hundreds of thousands of people suddenly have a super power.Follow him as he learns skills, runs away a lot, suffers crippling headaches, avoids reading his titles, and tries to avoid breaking his body that didn't get enough calcium and vegetables.[Disclaimer 1: Despite the following, I will fix any typos pointed out. This is a writing exercise so chapters are mostly first drafts, otherwise I'd end up rewriting each chapter for a month or more with no real changes. My goals are a steady output by not using perfectionism as a procrastination method. I've already got laziness and additions to reading/games, I don't need a 3rd reason to procrastinate.][Disclaimer 2: The main character is a more normalized version of me, with 170% less laziness installed, and a few buffs like greater courage. Other things like having a job are partially similar. No other characters are based on real people because most people I know are either too normal to be useful or too fucked in the head to be believable.]
8 141Rebirth of Assassin
Hello there my name is 'Lhine' turning 24 this year my job is Assassination, What? You think I'm some kind of psycho for having assassination for job? No! No! You're absolutely wrong, after-all it is a very normal but dangerous job well how should i put it? Ah!! That's right, its similar to mercenaries, why you ask? Well...... Hmmmmm... That's probably because I kill to live? Well yeah, what do you expect of an assassin? But if you think I have some kind of vengeance no I don't, and I live a perfectly normal life, I eat three times a day!! I bath too!! And I also have my own independent apartment!! I buy my own books!! And tools too! Well enough of my normal life, whats more important is my situation right now. I am being chased by the dog of gove-- ahem!! Well by the elite force of police, why you ask? 'Cause I just blow up the head of their prime minister, and I kinda messed up.... He was after-all mating with someone so I kinda didn't want to interrupt? hey!! I am not a pervert 'ya know? well..... I should focus on escaping though... Warning; the MC is a sick psycho who kills living creatures depending on her mood. She prefers killing cute things then turn them into a piece of 'art'. This is my first story here. Updates happen when I encounter an enlighment. So do read at your own risk.
8 203The Systems of the Multiverse - A Guide for the Multiversal Traveler
The Systems of the Multiverse have their issues. I, an observer from outside the multiverse have made it into my mission to tell you, the multiversal traveler about those issues and dangers. This is a relatively low effort NaNoWriMo and Writhathon project. I want to test myself if I can manage 55k words in a month, likely updating every single day until the end. This story is told in the form of an in universe book. Well, I say story... While this definetly won't be great, I still hope it will be enjoyable. I do my best to avoid grammar mistakes and spelling issues, but won't promise anything. Corrections are welcome, this is also an excercise to improve my writing from a technical standpoint. Not from a worldbuilding and character standpoint however, for that you need time. Oh, the keyboards (and computers) that the observer destroys are not real and only exists in story to have an excuse to easily end this story at the end of NaNoWriMo. I also personally like reading LitRPG stories, so this isn't meant to hate them. It might come over that way, but many of those issues are simply fun to think about: what would really happen if the world is so, seen through a lease of negativity :-) [participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge]
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A battle from the past.Fast forward to the future.The legend that has been passed down in story.Slowly, that legend comes to life.The man who started the battle.Gave a warning.Did they listen?They did, however ""it"" cannot be found.Slowly he will...Grow..Rise...Conquer..Everything and Everyone shall bow down to him.Earth, Heavens, Stars, Cosmos, Galaxies...Everything is his....A few words to say, my name is KeepSmiling and this would be my first novel.It would have settings in a modern world with xianxia settings.This story would include from all novels I've read, with my own twist, and those novels even include ones from royalroad, only a tiny portion though(i think?) So i hope you will enjoy this novel of mine and give a critical feedbacksHeads up, this might have harem, but i'm still debating on it though.However, maturity would be in this novel. about in Book 2 or 3 at most.
8 188Rozmowy przy kawusi z...
Ogółem to robię sobie żarty, więc jak chcesz się ze mną pośmiać to zapraszam.
8 124my art
My art and pls don't steal any thin from it also if you want to use some thing ask me first
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