I wanted to give a shoutout to a new Royal Road story called Vile, by TheRottingBard. It's a book that hasn't gotten as much attention as I think it deserves.
Here's a quick intro to it:
What happens when you take four gun-toting rural Texan teens and give them access to a magical world? When they decide to keep it a secret from authorities to keep it to themselves, what's the worst that could happen?
What happens when that same magical world has depths and layers that they aren't prepared for? When they can't tell who the real monsters are? When our world itself might be threatened by monsters?
Follow the group of four teens--Dove, Mitchel, Striver, and Kilgore--as they navigate this new world and new abilities. Will they become heroes, or will they be unwitting accomplices to a far worse fate?
Vile
NOTE: This story has been removed by the author.
SECOND NOTE: After speaking with the author, Rotting Bard, I've learned that he recently had his first child. Which explains why his stories have been posted and pulled and stuff. It's great news for him (He won't know what's coming, but he'll learn, m'wahahahaha)!
And it led me to a genius idea. Well, genius for me--it's relative to you all, I get that I'm not always the brightest... uh... you know what? Let's move on.
The idea that came to me is that Son of the Rotting Bard sounds like an awesome title for a book. Or Daughter, or Child. To be honest, he told me the gender, but I'm not the best with remembering--oh! Is that shiny?!
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What was I saying? Oh yeah. Seems like a sweet title for a story. So I asked some other authors if they wanted to write a short with a title and they sounded like they did. Or at least they didn't immediately decline. Authors can be flaky sometimes (surprised?), so it's in the air.
Either way, I wanted to offer the idea to you all with the assumption that I'll post links in this chapter to your short story if you want in on the community project. Also, to put my money words where my mouth is, I'll start it off.
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I watched as my father took the stage. The Rotting Bard. A title that had brought tens of thousands here to an open field. It was the kingdom's first festival to ever occur solely for entertainment. The others? Harvest, celebrations of wartime victories, the marriage of royalty, the usual. Each of the twelve kingdoms did those, but only ours had done this.
The field, once untamed grassland, was now a muddy pit packed with drunks. Still, I was awed to see so many here at once. Peasants in dirty clothes with unshoed feet formed unruly mobs. Nobles with retinues tuted about, and even their guards wore silk. Merchants by the dozen shouted wares, tapped casks of ale or sold sandals and cloth. Greas cooks oversaw pits of roasted meats.
Other bards and entertainers plied their trades through the crowds as well, though, like everyone else, they grew quiet as my father climbed the newly constructed stairs of the stage to stand above them.
I could only see the top of his head from where I stood at the bottom of the stage, the floppy purple hat flipped back and forth with the wind. All these folks were here to see my father, a man famed in seven kingdoms, with his songs sung across more. He had the type of fame and prestige that any would be proud of, and as I ignored a minor lord trying to rub elbows with me, I couldn't help but be proud of him.
And embarrassed, too.
He opened his performance with his signature skill, the one that he was most known for. The crowd cheered as it rippled out, happy to be able to tell others that they too had experienced what the Bard could do. I shook my head and sighed, watching the effects. Laughter in many, disgust in others. A few revelers, here and there, couldn't take it and vomited. I cringed to myself. Pride and embarrassment warred in me in equal measure, but I kept a smile on my face.
Until I got the notification.
Resistance to skill Intoxicating Fart has reached level 27.