Half-baked stories!

He ran breathless down the darkened corridor. It was closing in. Fast. Nothing could be done, there was no escape. The heat buffeted his back and incited a spasm in his side. The bile began to rise in the back of his throat. No time to stop, think, even breathe, it was bearing down relentless as the ocean tide. Sweat poured from his body as it edged closer and closer. No time to look back, no second guessing his actions. The heat inched closer, the skin on his neck feeling raw and burned. Keep running, keep pushing. Feet slapping painfully on the pavement, corridor seeming endless, boundaries blurred by the smoke and flame chasing its harried quarry. A loud crack, and his foot was caught in a splintered floorboard, the ankle twisted at a sickening angle. He groaned, vomited, and braced for the end. The heat rushed up from behind giving him no time to ponder his fate…

He awoke, terrified, coated in sweat, mouth tasting sour. A surge of adrenaline brought on by the dream had his extremities twitching and his breathing quick and shallow. He lay there, paralyzed, the afterglow of the dream fading from his mind. It seemed so real.

At a time, in a place in another dimension, war was brewing. Within these tumultuous times, a weapon was devised which was powerful enough to destroy planets, and possibly rip a hole in the very fabric of reality itself. As with all wars, nobody was quite sure why it started, nor were they sure when it would stop. It’s possible the conflict began over a quibble regarding the minutia of certain moral values, or the assassination of a would-be forgotten small time prime minister or dictator of a lesser nation. Whatever the case, it was forcing the warring nations to up their firepower to phenomenal levels mainly as a scare tactic. The problem was not the weapons themselves (though they imposed their fair share of problems), but the testing required to build such massive killing machines. During an experiment with quantum theory, a scientist accidentally set off a chain reaction which wiped the very fabric of reality from underneath an entire city. Due to this mishap, a veritable black hole was opened, and beyond laid any number of dimensions. As luck would have it, the energy drawn in by the black hole was funneled to a matter-less void of a place, resonating near the fifth dimension. Quarks routinely passed through this void; however, they found nothing solid to cling to and drifted purposefully off to other, seemingly emptier voids. This is where a new universe, a “big bang,” was borne by the chunks of the demolished city. As matter trickled into this newly realized universe, it was urged to begin spreading out. Seeing as how it was tainted, with the intents of its old forms still ingrained in it, it began immediately acting on a very small scale much like those of its former existence had acted. It began to form alliances in the form of proton and neutron to repel its electron brethren. Meanwhile electron coaxed electron into joining the battle against their nuclear antagonists. From this rich and conflicted cocktail, conditions ripe for life were set, and events conductive to it were set in motion. Atoms formed molecules. Molecules formed larger molecules, which in turn formed pieces of a larger structure, a unicellular organism. Though this being was alive, it was only made so after severe struggles and feats or fortitude that lead it to this fate.

The man's penchant for wanton destruction glimmered in his shifty eyes. "What are you charging for that mule?" he asked in a sultry, seductive voice. "About three fiddy," the man at the auction site replied, his malice revealed in this foreboding heckle. The confrontation was about to being, a battle of wits ensuing, and only one could be declared the winner. The salesman cracked his knuckles defiantly, urging his potential clientel into a more agressive stance. The man's glassy stare permeated to the salesman's very soul, and he shrank back in terror. "You contain something that is not of this world, my friend. Please, take the mule and leave me alone." At this, the man snorted, disappointed with his loss. "I only wished to find a sparring partner. Now, you leave me with nothing. Be gone, old fool!" With that, the man raised one hand, and produced, from the air around him and nothing more, an odd foodstuff.

Black hole travel

crazy man finds way of creating a spaceship using golden mean as ratio for building machine

gov't. and fellow scientists try putting him down and stealing his technology

black holes are gateways to other universes

the are repositories of energy that eventually reach critical mass and expand out to create a new universe as a bud from the originating universe

possibly have crew that die or transform based on golden mean.

I don't believe in a religion which teaches its members that it is the only right religion. Any religion which endorses and teaches kindness and good will towards mankind is 'right' with me. God is name given to the force of karma which is reflected in the good or bad events which happen in a person's life.

10 million years ago squid build many things, city of atlantis is one. squid die, but leave behind crucial artifact for new species. mankind evolves and makes earth his home, meanwhile squid reevolves. a marine biologist stumbles upon the artifact and collects it for research. squid are in lab where it is taken. squidlike spirits call for their newly evolved bretheren to reclaim the earth through said artifact. artifact unlocks evolution mechanism in squid that hyperactivates brain growth. squid evolve practically overnight and bust out of the lab. eventually squids evolve into their former selves, but not unnoticed. the newly reborn squids, called Zani, threaten mankind with an underwater superweapon called Minerva shifts techtonic plates causing mass havoc and destruction due to volcanoes and earthquakes. A marine biologist and his fellow scientists realize the Zani are serious and begin to plan a way to destroy them without killing everything else. Invent a new type of weapon that catches and salts squid. Also invents new diving suits, breathing apparatus, submarine pressurizer and offense system. Eventually the crew infiltrates New Atlantis and finds out the squid are not bluffing, as they see a scale model at work in a lab. They are discovered and thrown in a torture room, left for dead. However they escape and reach the leader with whom they discuss Minerva. He explains the reason squid want to recapture the earth, these Zani have just one goal that was never met before. They want to evolve lungs to live on land. Hero biologist asks why they want polluted crapland.

Name: Rikard
Race: Darkan
Sex: M
Fur Color: Alternating vertical black and white stripes with a blue tint

It has been awhile since I have attempted to recount my younger days, but for the sake of the young ones who may someday read this manuscript, I feel it is my duty to give them a brief history, as well as foster within them a love for the past and the traditions of their people. As with our entire race, I was borne unto the dimness present during the separation of the moons, known as "Vjatsyn Kries" in our native tongue. I was once a youthful and jovial scamp, and went on many forays into the dark forest with my varied relatives. One adventure in particular sticks out in my mind, and I shall now recount it, for it was a terrifying ordeal with life altering consequences. During one of the aforementioned excursions into the forest, my cousin Braj and I stumbled across a strange structure to the northwest of our village. The formation seemed to be the remnants of great spire of thick metal, four support arches anchored it to a solid block embedded within the earth. It appeared had the structure been intact, the arches would have worked their way into a point. However much of the structure he top was wide and flat, patterned with jagged edges, and the area below was bent and rusted in many places. It looked almost uprooted, and tilted precariously upon the edge of a fissure, threatening to tumble to the forest floor at a moment’s notice. Over time, thick, leafy vines had risen from trees below the structure. They crept their way relentlessly up the cliff side, finding purchase on plants and rocks embedded in the soft earth, and looked solid enough to use as a makeshift ladder. Braj and I studied the vines and the structure for a bit and both decided we wanted to take a closer look. We strode purposefully toward the vines, and after reaching them, began to make our ascent. We reached the top of the cliff side without incident and began to investigate the structure. It seemed much larger than it appeared to be from the ground, and was covered with strange symbols.

Kid buys a cartridge, says sonic the hedgehog on it, believes he is purchasing sega’s phenomenal platformer. Plugs it in, greeted with a title screen which says ‘tunnels the badger’ kid says ‘what the fuck’ and tunnels starts ranting. ‘I cant believe I lost on the obscure animals likely made into a video game hero!’ sega chose a hedgehog, fox, and echidna, and sony picked a fucking bandicoot! A badger is a damn good choice, we’re versatile, aggressive, and can dig. Fuck you sega’

Since i believe consciousness is a phenomenon that arises from a particular structural arrangement of neurons that have a specific relationship with quantum space, it logically follows that due to allele expression of DNA that each brain would be built in a slightly different way, which could give rise to different neuronal pathways, which in turn could lead to very different experiences of human consciousness.

Burt McFly, the truck driver for Swift Inc., hates dogs. “I run them over on sight! One day I must have hit damn near 300 dogs!”

His semi was covered in gaudy anti-dog decor, including nearly a hundred stickers with variants of dogs with X eyes. “Wanna take a ride with me and see the expert at work?,” he spat through his broken incisors. “Sure,” I said, full of curiosity and disbelief. I didn’t believe this guy for a second and needed to know more. I grabbed for the handle while climbing up the stairs to the cabin. Burt, overweight as he was, heaved and clambered his way into the well-worn driver’s throne. “Alright!” he exclaimed, madness creeping into his voice, “Let’s run over some dogs!” While pulling out onto the road, I quickly realized that for fat Burt the word ‘dog’ had meanings as diverse as ‘mailbox,’ ‘shadow,’ ‘hedge,’ and ‘pothole.’ The great moron relentlessly plowed his machine through each in turn, metal shards and wooden splinters spraying out from the battered grill in front. We barreled onward, cutting a swath of destruction through suburbia. By my count about 5 minutes into the joyride, nearly twenty houses lost either a mailbox, a shrub, or combination of both. I had reached my tolerance for such wanton disregard for safety and property and pleaded with Burt to stop and let me out, but he pretended not to hear me over the ruckus.

I shrieked as a sheared piece of metal from a mailbox sailed dangerously close to my ear, ducked down, and ensured my seatbelt was secure as it was impossible to know how long this rampage would last. As I glared at Burt’s chubby visage and 5 o’clock shadow, I realized, with quite some relief, that we hadn’t once hit an actual dog. It was obvious Burt was mentally unsound, screeching and hollering as the truck plowed into mailbox after mailbox, but so ignorant that he didn’t know what a dog was?

In the distance Burt spied a new quarry. “Schnauzer tea party. Worth 50 points. Buckle up, it’s time to spill some.”

He tramped the gas to the floor, the truck shuddering and lurching toward higher speeds. Alarmed, I scanned the horizon and found what he saw. A pink awning covered the heads of three very human children. “Burt, those are children!” I yelled over the din. “If you run into them you will certainly kill them!”

Burt turned to look at me. He’d gone full manic. “I HATE DOGS!!!” he roared, whipping his head back to face his target. Enough was enough. I yanked the wheel away from Burt, but he yanked it back, causing the truck to fishtail. Realizing I could disable the truck this way, I yanked it back even harder. The trailer was beginning to skid. Burt yanked it back, and I gave it one final mighty yank. The truck was crashing through the hedge in the front lawn, aiming straight for the girls. It jackknifed in a manner that smashed all three girls between the house and the trailer. Utterly dumbfounded, I stared ahead with glassy eyes. “Wow, you’re an expert, huh? Fifty points for you, pardner! Yee-haw!” Burt exclaimed, as the weight of reality started to set in.

Prudence Stossett was the most detestable person one could know. She began each day loudly exclaiming her indignity, forcing her way through the throngs of innocent bystanders to her gaudy office building and barking at anyone that dared look her in the face. Tyler Bracks, her diminutive assistant, was caught in her wake, cowering from behind a briefcase apologetically at no one in particular. His greying hair was tousled by the undulating wind and he reached up a nervous hand to slick it back into place. As Miss Stossett continued chiseling holes through the crowd to navigate the sidewalk, Tyler hurriedly followed, scrambling and sweaty, constantly pushing on the bridge of his glasses to ensure the damned things stayed on his face. Days like this made him wonder why he’d ever agreed to this job.

From an early age young Balik had taken a keen interest in things considered “unimportant” in the general sense. When his peers would while away the time studying maps of mythical underground caverns besotted with priceless gems, minerals, and metals, Balik wasn’t attracted to the shiny stuff, as one would expect of a dwarf. Rather, he felt a deep connection to the natural world, the wild, untamed bits, unsullied by any of the machinations of the destructively industrious races of Faerun. Being a hill dwarf meant he was exposed to the majesty of the natural world much sooner than others of his kind, and he was particularly drawn to it in ways his kin could not understand. He eschewed hunting for precious rocks in favor of seeking his own path amongst the wilds. He enjoyed spending his time, generally alone, getting himself lost in the verdant valleys and lush forests of his homeland. He took the basic survival skills taught to him by his elders and perfected them to art. He could wander off with nothing but the clothes on his back and survive for months, ultimately returning to the clan unscathed. His skill with the crossbow was similarly well honed and he rarely missed a shot. Balik also loved history, the kind of history one could see simply by observing the world. He appreciated geology for itself, not just because it was useful knowledge in gem mining. Clearly, he was a dwarf chiseled from a different sort of stone, and there were some obvious detractors attempting to smother his flame.

Deeker (whose given name was Drogor Goldleaf) liked to taunt Balik for his unorthodox perspective on life. Deeker wanted to be a legend. He wanted to strike it rich under the mountains, finding a long forgotten horde of dragon’s treasure that he would use to forge a great empire. He wanted his name to live on forever and he was relentless and sadistic enough for this to become a reality if ever he came across vast wealth. Balik gave little care to such material concerns and as such became the frequent target of Deeker’s abuse. Deeker spat at Balik upon his return from the woods one day: “Was your mother a halfling, Balik? Was your mother an elf? What sort of self-respecting dwarf wastes his time on frivolous pursuits such as traipsing through the woods?” Balik, as always, stared back, face a mask of stone and eyes smoldering with anger and, a little shame. A small crowd started to form, alerted by the shouting. “I am mystified how you can so flippantly cast off the responsibilities you have inherited, that we ALL have inherited. You have no choice, Balik. You must not be apart from us any longer. If you leave again, consider yourself exiled,” warned Deeker, his lips curling into a wicked smile, his red beard bright and angry as fire. At this point, Balik figured he had nothing to lose and fluidly dropped to his knees and swept his leg under Deeker’s, catching him by the heel, and flinging him onto his bottom nearly 5 feet away. Balik’s face was covered in a sheen of sweat and his eyes were wild. As Deeker, wide-eyed, attempted to right himself, Balik yelled “Does Deeker speak for all of you? Is it true, would you all have me exiled if I leave the clan again?” Angry murmurs from the growing crowd began erupting into shouts sounding angrier still. “You’re not pulling your weight around here, Balik. You’re not acting like a proper dwarf. Drop the nonsense and help us.” It was Sirah, his own sister. Feeling utterly betrayed, he simply let out a miserable sigh and looked balefully at her. “I guess kin isn’t always as close as they claim,” he said, venom dripping from the words. Sirah shrank back into the crowd. “Fine, I’ll just do you all a favor and leave forever. I am not like you and I don’t need you. I can forge my own path and make it on my own.”

It had been nearly 6 months since Balik began his self imposed exile. He realized very quickly that other than bouts of extreme loneliness he sometimes experienced when he was in very remote areas he absolutely loved the life of an exile. He had already honed his survival skills and so was not wanting for food, drink, or protection, just simple companionship. One fateful day while he was roaming near the heavily forested halfling town of Breezewood, he happened upon a bear cub, grunting and bawling, attempting to break its foot free from the grips of a tree root. Feeling pity and a sense of duty towards this defenseless creature, Balik carefully approached the cub. The instant it caught sight of him it panicked struggling harder and crying louder. Slowly, gently, Balik approached the cub on his hands and knees. The cub seemed to realize this as a sign of docility and appropriately settled down, not so much as flinching as Balik reached toward its trapped foot. He assessed the situation, and pulled out a small blade. He carefully cut the root from around the cub’s foot away, allowing it to walk free once again. He fully expected the cub would burst into a sprint for the woods the instant its foot was free, but instead it ran to him. It acted almost like a dog, rubbing against his stout frame and rolling over, inviting Balik to play with it. If Balik had any suspicions about the situation he cast them aside the instant he started wrestling with the cub. It was second nature to him, like he was destined to meet this bear cub and essentially befriend it. Balik had heard many tales of human and elf rangers with animal companions, but was unsure of his own rapport with woodland creatures. This cub seemed to remove any doubt in his mind, as it dutifully followed him everywhere through the woods. At first this cheered Balik but then he was saddened by the thought that the cub’s mother must be dead. It was at this point he vowed to protect little Root, the bear cub, at all costs, and become his inseparable travel companion. Balik soon learned that no matter how well behaved, people saw he and Root as immediate trouble. With the bear in tow, the pair continued on to Breezewood, a somewhat unwelcome stop but a necessary one, as Balik’s crossbow repair kit had been reduced to naught but a few loose screws. For his own survival he needed that bow in top shape at all times.

Breezewood, being a town on the edge of a great forested area, was not full of particularly worldly folk. Rather these folks saw all bears as foes, even though this bear obviously had a very strong connection with its handler. It was obvious the bear fed off the mood of the dwarf, which was initially relaxed but now, due to sideways glances and fearful fleeing, had crept toward anxiety. Root’s mood changed appropriately, becoming a bit louder and more fierce than before, a side Bailk had not seen and yet was thankful for the distraction. He tried asking for directions to the general store but was met was trembling silence and hostile glares, all the while putting him more on edge. Eventually he noticed a signpost with an arrow pointing toward the general store.

Story Details

Breezewood Adventure - Balik and Root are accosted by drunk townsfolk while walking to the general store. Balik attempts to quicken his pace to get away, but they start running after him. One grabs Root and begins to run away, Balik immediately giving chase. Balik catches up and snatches Root back. Running, he carries the cub in his arms into the general store, hurriedly rattles off a list of items, and throws down some coin for the necessary parts. He is given change for the parts and among the change is the Rank Insignia, mistaken for a coin in the haste.

Primordial - Balik is exploring near an old ruined fortress. He picks through the rubble to find anything valuable. He finds a few trinkets but springs a trap that causes him to fall into a hole. The walls are smooth and cold as ice and he is unable to climb out. Root cries helplessly for him at the edge of the pit, unable to assist. Balik frantically searches for a way out. He attempts to create handholds by destroying the sides of the pit, but the dirt is frozen solid. He notices the temperature is also beginning to drop. Finally, out of the corner of his eye he notices a phylactery. He breaks it open and a frost elemental named (what else but) Jack is released. The icy walls surrounding the pit evaporate, allowing Balik to climb out. Jack is so grateful to be free after a thousand years of imprisonment that he teaches Balik the language of the primordials. He also imbues Balik with great knowledge surrounding natural magic and ways to draw on the arcane power of the wild terrain, especially within his own domain of ice. Balik is even taught a simple spell to allow him to conjure a small patch of ice. Jack is impressed when Balik flawlessly reproduces the spell, noting not with a little surprise that he is a very different sort of dwarf from those he remembered. Eventually they go their separate ways, with Jack returning to his usual plane of existence to do whatever he does, but right before this, he mentions that he’s had a vision where he sees Balik in a large city, near deep waters.

Close Friend - During his travels Balik runs into another unorthodox traveler, namely a gnome ranger called Vale. Balik is drawn to her and likewise she to him. They spend a short amount of time traveling together but ultimately Vale and Balik go their separate ways when they realize their true love is that of freedom to wander. Balik often thinks of her and has very fond memories of their time together. He has no doubt he will see her yet again during his journeys.

Who taught me my craft - Balik was taught basic survival skills from a very young age by the village elders. He was drawn to nature by unknown forces, possibly even mystical or divine, though no evidence of this exists which causes the others to become resentful towards him. A particular elder named Namah may be the only ally Balik has but she was nowhere to be found the day of Balik’s exile.

Why am I in Waterdeep - Since his encounter with Jack, Balik has become sensitive to the arcane currents of the wilds. Lately they have been erratic and almost seem to be tugging at his boots, pulling him ever closer to the city of Waterdeep, unbeknownst to him. He follows the urges and takes Root along, happily living in solitude, winding his way directly toward the great city. When he finally reaches the gates, he receives a final jolt from the arcane, then he no longer feels their influence.

Darling waddled forward with the scroll in her beak, eager to receive her reward. The council of elders had made a blood pact with her to make this promise unbreakable. She felt very confident, holding her beak high, the scroll upheld for all the rabble to see.

At some point in the early 1900s Peter Kropotkin got his hands on Darwin’s Origin of the Species, voraciously devoured the contents, and noted through all the notably detailed depictions of evolutionary pressure to adapt to one’s environment Darwin’s observations merely sketched an idea of conspecific competition. Since reading origins, Kropotkin realized the significant implications of the work, which is to say humans are just another species of animal, evolved from an ancestor we shared with chimpanzees many millions of years ago.

If something feels good, is your natural inclination to indulge yourself in that specific behavior?

There is a thing that’s inexpressible by language, but it is a feeling of warmth, protection, and care that being with a large, loving group of other humans who are mutually interested in each other’s wants and needs creates. It is a feeling of belonging, and it’s very important. It’s likely the sensation that arises compels us to keep each other’s company, perhaps a product of evolution from very early on in the story of primates. This importance, the want, and practically basal craving of companionship is the story of human evolution. No other creature on the planet has evolved such a brain as humanity, an organ exceptional even compared to all other natural splendor. This singularly advanced construction allows for exceptional cooperation between individuals not seen in any other species. Language and the use of tools allowed for creating everything from the smallest paperclip to the largest aircraft carrier.