A Wonderfully Wacky World
48 posts in this topic.
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To most people, the city of Wendor seems like a typical suburban town (despite its slightly fantastical name). Of course, however, things are rarely as they seem.
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Guidelines:
Hi random person who clicked on this topic-- yes, you! You are invited to join this wonderfully wacky roleplay! Feel free to do any worldbuilding you'd like, but do ask other people before writing anything significant about their characters. And also please keep everything PG. Other than that, though, you can let your imagination run wild! Happy writing!
Character template:Spoiler
P.S. Also you can even pop in for just one post if you want-- it's okay if the plot doesn't really make sense! The focus here is on creative ideas and having fun! <3 -
Spoiler
Name: Iorek Bluntnail
Age: 3000+
Description: Iorek is a hulking northern troll. He is humanoid but stony-looking with a long mossy beard braided into a fork, and his head is bald. His features are coarse and somewhat bulbous. He wears an outfit of pine branches and leaves, and his tail has many trinkets tied onto it. His eyes are coal-colored.
Other: Iorek is an ancient troll who has wandered across the world more so than many of his kind. He settled down for his mid-millenia sleep in Wendor about five centuries ago and has become a landmark since then, dubbed "The Wendor Wanderer." Most thought he was a statue, but he has begun to stir in the past few months. -
Spoiler
Name: Gargle Grimshaw
Age: 350
Description: This gnome, contrary to what his last name may imply, is quite cheerful most of the time (maybe even obnoxiously so). He is a little less than one foot tall and likes to say that it’s the perfect height for hiding in a cookie jar. Gargle’s clothing tends to be in bright colors, usually combined with a cherry-red cap.
Other: For the past century or so, Gargle has been living in the small city of Wendor. He likes pretending to be a garden gnome. (The expressions on humans’ faces when he blinks is absolutely priceless!) However, lately, Gargle has been adopting heroic intentions (perhaps due to all the superhero movies he eavesdrops on), and the gnome is eager to try out the life of a midnight adventurer. -
(Would you like to start us off with some exposition or wait for others to join?)
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(Sure, I can start! Others can just pop in whenever)
Gargle sat on the edge of the lawn, watching the last glimmers of sunlight fade from the sky. He yawned, then shook himself awake. “Really, Gargle?” he chided himself. “Falling asleep on your first adventure? What a rookie mistake.” The gnome stood up and stretched his legs.
The aspiring hero yawned again, then started off down the street, whistling a jaunty tune. So... where would I find some trouble makers to thwart? Gargle wondered. He knew that (in his experience) Wendor was generally a peaceful town, but he was sure that crime must lurk somewhere.
The gnome turned a corner and his eyes fell upon the statue “The Wendor Wanderer.” Aha! he thought. The top of that statue would make a perfect watchtower. With that in mind, the gnome proceeded to climb the statue, and took up a position on its head. Then Gargle waited, eyes straining to catch any sign of mischief in the shadows. -
Long had the Wanderer held vigil over the city of Wendor. Long had he slumbered, waiting for nothing in particular. Long had he dreamed.
Iorek had felt the stirrings of spring several moon-turnings ago and knew it was time for him to rise and wander again. He had slept long enough, allowed the world to grow and change around him, listened as birds nested in his ears and wasps made hives in his nostrils. He had heard the construction of the city and paid no heed as the quiet village slowly developed into bustling suburbs. Many fair folk moved on, grumbling about the humans and their disrespect.
Iorek had remained, only vaguely aware of the vast alterations his home had undergone.
Tonight, though, as the sun shuffled off its load and the moon peeked its head over the horizon, Iorek sensed it was time to move.
The first thing to shift was his thick, stony neck. It turned slowly, and a long, echoing groan came from Iorek's throat. Next to move were his arms, cracking the stiff lichen and disturbing the insects that had taken shelter in the nooks and crannies of his elbows.
(Oh yeah I forgot to mention Iorek is pretty much the size of a cottage) -
(Okay cool! By the way, your writing style is awesome (I especially love the part “Iorek had felt the stirrings of spring several moon-turnings ago”)
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Gargle’s watchtower was shaking. Gargle himself was rather concerned. “Ey, is this an earthquake? Last time that happened it took the humans weeks to get over the mighty fright it gave ‘em. And I wasn’t able to sneak any cookies during that time.” Somewhat distressed, Gargle looked around. “Although... it doesn’t seem like the other buildings are moving.”
Suddenly, the gnome heard a long groan coming from— the statue? Gargle yelped in surprise. “Oh my chocolate chips! This thing’s alive?” -
(Aww thank you!!)
Iorek's eyes creaked open next, and he blinked slowly in the moonlight. The world loomed quite different. The buildings were taller and less squat, very shiny and neat. No thatching to be seen, from what he could see.
Something was squeaking in alarm; had he startled a squirrel? Iorek leaned forward slightly, peering over his knees at the ground below. A small fountain had been erected at his feet, but he could see no living beings.
"Hurummmm," he mused, stroking his beard. "How many centuries has it been since last I heard the voice of another creature?" -
Unfortunately, said creature was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and could not respond.
Gargle took a few slow breaths and thought to himself, Okay, so the statue’s alive. And it can talk. No big deal, Gargle, you’ve dealt with far weirder stuff before. Besides, if you’re going to be an adventurer, you’ve gotta get used to strange stuff happening, right? He answered himself, Right.
Once Gargle deemed himself calm enough to speak without being an octave higher than usual, he asked the statue, “What— or who— exactly are you?” -
The creature sounded as if it were stranded atop his head. Iorek took a moment before responding thoughtfully.
"I am he who cannot stay. I have crushed foes and helped friends. I am Iorek Bluntnail, the Walking Troll." -
Gargle laughed nervously. “Well, uh, it’s very nice to meet you, Iorek Bluntnail the Walking Troll! I’m Gargle Grimshaw, but you can call me Gargle.”
The gnome clung to Iorek’s head, trying not to fall off. -
Iorek raised a massive hand and placed it flat perpendicular to his forehead. "Would you like to come down, friend Gargle? I had not realized you were on top of me." The voice sounded gnomish, though it had been many centuries since Iorek had heard a gnome speak, let alone any other thing. He had been alone with his meandering thoughts for so long.
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Gargle hesitantly stepped onto Iorek’s palm. The stone-like platform was covered in patches of moss, and Gargle noticed a few bugs crawling around as well.
The gnome straightened up to his full height of eleven-and-a-half inches, then said (as majestically as he could), “I am an aspiring superhero. Pray tell, good troll, whether you have seen any evil lurking about in this town?” -
"I have not been awake for a long time," Iorek replied. "There was evil back then, I expect there must be evil still. I have not seen it." He eased his hand down to the ground and let the gnome step off. "The world has changed."
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