Sep Nullachtfünfzehn and co.

Short stories, fan fictions, and lots of insanity

A First Glance at Spritesdwell Pt. 2 – A “Brief” History of The Empire

Hello everyone,

Here we go with the second part of our first glance at Spritesdwell! And whilst the first issue dealt with a geographic overview, this will give an introduction to the history of Spritesdwell.

Why would that even be important?
Read the first part. It’s a fantasy universe. Or a science-fiction universe. Point being, history, of which I have prepared about 2000 years, and mythology, of which I have several thousands of years preceding the history, must be present in such universes, to avoid continuity errors, to add to the universe itself, etc. etc.

So what’s going in Spritesdwell’s history?
Murder. Incest. Betrayal. All legal, because the winning side did it.
Read the whole description

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A First Glance at Spritesdwell Pt. 1 – A Geographic Overview

Hello everyone,

As may be evident from the title, this won’t be a political rant, it will not be about the universe of Wistula and Cadia, it will be about a topic not touched upon before — Spritesdwell.

What is Spritesdwell?
Spritesdwell is one of many universes born from the creativity and boredom of Sep Nullachtfünfzehn’s mind. What is it, exactly?
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The Hotel Europe

Hey!

Its me, Olaf!

Imagine if Europe was a Hotel. Germany would be the hotelier, and Germany’s wife would be France. Turkey would be the Security Service for our main door and would block all of the 2 million people that want to come in. Britain, one of the best customers wants to check out, and the Hotel doesnt know if they should love him for that or kill them. By the way they are checking out because of the room service which it too “polish.”

The hotelier is currently ranting about Spain, who took something out of the minibar, but in Germanys opinion can’t afford it.

Read the complete rant

WTF? AfD?

Wow! Another right-wing party has made it into the government of a state in a european country. In the german state Sachsen-Anhalt, AfD (Alternative für Deutschland, which, translated, means something like the alternative for Germany) has reached the incredible result of 24,4 percent.

But when you take a closer look, you will find out that those people are … well, I shall show you:

Read the complete rant

Map time – Wistula

So, just so one has an idea of the geography of the Archdespotate of Wistula (and because I quite like drawing maps, and because I was bored), I decided to draw a map of Wistula (on pages I ripped out of my German test book). So, here you go!

(also, sorry for the low quality – the map’s quite large, and my mobile’s camera’s a potato)

 

Wistula NW
See the whole map

A written brick shell: “Born to be Wild”

What follows is the earliest (current), unedited version of the first chapter of the Chronicles of the Taremys Family. Enjoy, and please, help me some with the editing.


 

Chronicles of the Taremys Family

and other tales from Colomynd, or Kolemiſz, and ſurroundings

Part One:

Born to be Wild

“Ah, theology… Is old Procopius still ranting about how little the Mother Snake and the Saints and all fits Colomynd?”

“You have no idea. Now there’s that Wistulan professor, er… Perunow, he’s ranting even more. Even Arpadius is complaining about that, now.” Moræna allowed herself a brief chuckle, to accompany her brother’s wholehearted laugh. “Hænnys, though… you know him?”

“It’s a common name.”

“Right… ” She glared at him ever so briefly before explaining. “Excluding our dear genius, Vaslavy, he’s the youngest professor around. He’s all about astronomy and physics and maths.”

“Those are the worst.” Ianc Taremys declared, emptying his cup of wine.

“Not necessarily. Either way, I tried his lectures once… I was sleepy, but remained awake in there. I understood next to nothing, but he didn’t allow me to sleep.” Moræna fumbled around on her gambeson. “You know, when father visited Morvinnys, he was who saved me, and who doomed me, as well. Should I tell the story?”

“You’re going to do it anyway.” stated Ianc, standing up, “What use would my complaints be?” He took financial reports on his table, and delivered them to the muddy ground of the tent. Being a mercenary captain isn’t too easy, obviously.

Read the complete chapter

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