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World War 3

LECTURES 14
Votes 1
Chapitres 1
Durée 5m

LECTURES 14
Votes 1
Chapitres 1
Durée 5m

Contenu pour adultes

bloodshed greed sadness violence ww3

Long ago, in a world only known to greed and bloodshed, mankind lived in terror. Countless souls were lost to petty things. It seemed there was no hope for this land painted red. The world had reached its end. Burned. Or so it seemed. In 2018 three nations were born out of the ash and blood. Along with them a new peace was brought among the land. One that would last years. Some thought for an eternity. Everyone was happy. But humans do not change. They may cover up but deep down there will always be greed. And evil. This treaty of peace was broken, as to be expected. One of the great leaders had fallen into a trap set by the devil himself. This fatal day would lead to the worst war mankind has ever seen, world war 3.Tous Droits Réservés

bloodshed greed sadness violence ww3

Table des matières

Chapter 1
dim., avr. 3, 2016

1 chapitre

Chapter 1
dim., avr. 3, 2016

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The Crimson Requiem: Liturgy of the Damned, écrit par RimuruLord785

The world does not know pain. Not yet. The stars hang too peacefully in the sky, the air is too clean, and the people-they breathe too easily. They laugh, they love, they dream. They do not know what true suffering is. Max Morbarius will teach them. He was once a man. Once fragile, once weak, once breakable. But pain reshaped him. They tore him apart. They drowned him in agony. They thought death would claim him. They were wrong. Something ancient whispered to him from the abyss. Something hungry. Something that found his agony... beautiful. It did not offer salvation. It did not grant peace. It tore his soul from his corpse and stitched it into something monstrous. Now, he does not kill for justice. He does not kill for revenge. He kills because it makes the world scream. He moves like a shadow through the night, his presence an infection, a creeping plague of fear. He does not just slaughter his enemies-he peels them apart, nerve by nerve, bone by bone. He drinks their suffering, paints the walls with their entrails, carves their sins into their skulls. Their agony is his masterpiece. Their blood is his baptism. But he is not the worst thing that crawls from the dark. There are others. Things lurking beyond human understanding. Eldritch horrors with endless mouths, gods that demand rivers of suffering, nightmares that fester and grow in the rot of his carnage. And they whisper to him. They watch him carve, rip, and mutilate. They want more. They are waiting for him to unleash his true form, to let go of what little remains of his soul, to become the thing they always knew he could be. The Red King of Ruin. The Harbinger of the Fleshstorm. The Father of Agony. And when he finally lets the madness consume him... The world will not be reduced to ashes. It will drown in an ocean of screaming, writhing, bleeding flesh. Because death is not the end. It is only the beginning.

Fallen Star , écrit par Gogoup123

This is my take on those stories that have only one human male on a planet full of anthros. You know the ones, where a nuke, virus, or/and war that destroyed the human race except for one and for some unexplain reason ten years later furries rule the earth with a fully functioning government and technology. Oh, and sometimes this human has all the powers of comics and mange for also unexplained reason or another. With every character is spelled out on these bio picks before you even read the story, ruining any suspension or mystery the story could have. Sorry, went on a little rant but I have a hard time reading those kinds of stories, so I decided to make my own. So the actual story; A human crash landed onto a alien world where the dominant species are ten feet tall female wolves. Now he have to survive this warrior world that seeks to use him or destroy him, but under his meek facade is something much more then any one could imagine. Hope you enjoy.

"Goodbye Curly Head", écrit par NUmaker

Through thick and thin the Law shall prevail. A new sense of purpose awaits us, children of light, in the land where it all began. The darkness in which we once cowered in fear, now curbed by the might of our endless light. Come, brothers, come, sisters. Let there be peace among the wicked, just as the Law dictates. Peace and certainty is all that you have ever longed for, little angel. A bright, stable future. A roof without holes above thy head. Acknowledgement and recognition of thy existence, feverish dreams of grandeur. Greed born from yearning, treacherous vines of rapacity taint your innocent soul. You seek a future that does not exist. Let thy fingers hold the fragile line between dream and nightmare. Let thy light navigate the path. Shall thee give in and falter, O' land of old, envelop his body in thy unending flame of chaos. Spit out nothing but an empty husk, the remnants of a smile once so bright. Shall thee prevail, O', Great Kazdel, I ask of you, the impossible - take mercy on the innocent. Don't let the radiance dim and don't let the mind turn bleak. Wake, young traveler. Bid thy farewells and burn thy bridges. It's time to say goodbye, curly head. Cross post from AO3. For a shorter and more on-point description, look no further! I had something silly written up before throwing it out in exchange for that wall of text upstairs. It's a little story "about a young, dumb sankta who's been dealt a bad hand at life, looking for his place in all this mess. The pointless search for a better future leads him far, far away from home, to a country forever ravaged by war and misery - Kazdel, the promised land where devils roam free and peace feels out of place." Anyway, it's quite lengthy, but hopefully enjoyable? Slide a comment if you want, I'll give you a tiny kiss on the forehead. Man, do I love comments. (Lastly, to point out, English is not my native language, but I don't think it'll be much of an issue ;3)

Don't Fear the Unknown, écrit par Allen685

It's been years since the collapse. Countless lives lost, history, and cultures forgotten to the horrors we live today. As it stands now, only a fraction of the settlements survived since the start of the war against the monsters described outside the wall that protects us. The only way to move around the world is by air. The seas became deadly with mutated wildlife and the ground too dangerous because of the monsters that roam our once great cities. Now its time to make a change join the Atlas and find a way to aid humanity and Stand againts anything that might threaten us and find a way to live with a new speacies. (I DO NOT OWN ANY ART/PICTURES THAT MAY BE USED IN THIS STORY)

Transfur high (Anthro furry x human), écrit par Emo_Race_Car_Driver

They came from nowhere. Just suddenly appeared in 1990 and made a few cities. Anthros is what they call themselves. They were taller than most humans. cutting themselves off from humans. Humans have tried talking to them but they never responded. Until 2023, they responded. They wanted a way to slowly engage their species with humans. Humans decided to use a transfer method. 1 human for each of the anthro city to the school of that city. They didn't allow any anthros to go to human society yet. There were 3 cities. Garrison, Relondrit, and Muldrow. Landon got sent to Muldrow. Landon is a 16-year-old sophomore. He's 6.5 caucasian with dark brown hair put into a mullet and dark green eyes. But he ain't no jock, he's a nerd, he doesn't have muscle because he's skinny. Like, see ribs skinny. He was quiet, always doing work and listening to music. (heavy metal and 2000s alternative) When the transfer system was close to the end of freshmen year had started. He immediately signed up. And since he was the first and had all A's except for 1 B (it's criminology) He got into it. So over summer break, he was taught by an anthro (Labrador) some of their traditions. The only difference between them and humans is that they 2 things. Every year for a month, the females get a heat cycle. (It's not the typical one. They can control it. It just makes them turn on more and easier. That's it. No franticly wanting sex.) they also have "Species Day". It's where multiple of the same group meet at various locations. Other than those 2 a few word changes. It's all the same between the 2 sides. Just before the sophomore year started. He was moved into the city. They gave him a basic apartment right by the school. They allowed him to bring his stuff. One of those was his bike. (so he can bike to school. Also, you'll figure out more stuff he brought with him later on in the story. Btw, this is not a harem. So if you're looking for that. Go away. All characters are owned by me.

Grave digger, écrit par major_moron67

The year is 1964, but the surface has not felt human footsteps for nearly half a century. The Great Retreat of 1919 forced the remnants of civilization underground after World War I spiraled out of control. The war did not end-it merely burrowed deeper. Poisoned by mustard gas storms, chemical fires, and plagues, the surface is a wasteland of twisted metal and abandoned battlefields. Cities stand as hollowed ruins, their streets buried under layers of ash and dust. The sun is a faded memory, its warmth replaced by the choking heat of oil-fed infernos. Humanity crawled underground, carving vast tunnel networks and cavern-cities in the bones of the earth. Here, in the damp dark, people breathe recycled air, eat fungus grown from the dead, and drink from seeping cracks in ancient stone. The tunnels are endless, a maze of bunkers, collapsed mines, and fortresses built into the rock. The deeper one goes, the easier it is to forget the surface ever existed. War never ended-it just changed battlefields. Two factions, trapped in their endless conflict, send wave after wave of soldiers to die in the tunnels. The Golden Empire A militaristic theocracy that foolishly believes that God has not yet mankind. Their soldiers march in formation, clad in gold-plated armor, chanting hymns as they die for a war they cannot win. The Royal Nation A fractured, industrial war machine, where duty replaces faith. They ration food, force conscription, and manufacture war endlessly. Their soldiers wear hate on their sleeves, marching toward death with polished bayonets. Neither side will surrender. Battles are won and lost over mere yards of dirt, trenches collapse under the weight of bodies, and chemical gas drifts through the underground like creeping death. The surface is dead. The underground is soon to follow.

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Slide 1 of 6

The Crimson Requiem: Liturgy of the Damned cover

Fallen Star cover

"Goodbye Curly Head" cover

Don't Fear the Unknown cover

Transfur high (Anthro furry x human) cover

Grave digger cover

The Crimson Requiem: Liturgy of the Damned

The world does not know pain. Not yet. The stars hang too peacefully in the sky, the air is too clean, and the people-they breathe too easily. They laugh, they love, they dream. They do not know what true suffering is. Max Morbarius will teach them. He was once a man. Once fragile, once weak, once breakable. But pain reshaped him. They tore him apart. They drowned him in agony. They thought death would claim him. They were wrong. Something ancient whispered to him from the abyss. Something hungry. Something that found his agony... beautiful. It did not offer salvation. It did not grant peace. It tore his soul from his corpse and stitched it into something monstrous. Now, he does not kill for justice. He does not kill for revenge. He kills because it makes the world scream. He moves like a shadow through the night, his presence an infection, a creeping plague of fear. He does not just slaughter his enemies-he peels them apart, nerve by nerve, bone by bone. He drinks their suffering, paints the walls with their entrails, carves their sins into their skulls. Their agony is his masterpiece. Their blood is his baptism. But he is not the worst thing that crawls from the dark. There are others. Things lurking beyond human understanding. Eldritch horrors with endless mouths, gods that demand rivers of suffering, nightmares that fester and grow in the rot of his carnage. And they whisper to him. They watch him carve, rip, and mutilate. They want more. They are waiting for him to unleash his true form, to let go of what little remains of his soul, to become the thing they always knew he could be. The Red King of Ruin. The Harbinger of the Fleshstorm. The Father of Agony. And when he finally lets the madness consume him... The world will not be reduced to ashes. It will drown in an ocean of screaming, writhing, bleeding flesh. Because death is not the end. It is only the beginning.