D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

[mebecronck]

@PaperMustache
What! How dare you copy me ... I'm just kidding. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

I just counted family as part of the background section, but I like the idea. The only thing I would say about it is (well two things) I think it would make more sense to be placed right after the background section, and include how they are related in the details: mother, father, sister, brother, etc.

[PaperMustache]

@mebecronk
I actually forgot to put how they were related, didn't I? -face palm- Thanks, changing that now.

[Kymme]

MOAR STORIES!

I just finished this story on my "Learns to Write" thread, and I thought I would bring it to you gents!

The Calm, The Storm

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There was a deafening trumpet, and Liam's eyes snapped open. The man stood up, blinking sleep from his eyes. He moved to the door flap of his tent, passing by other men, stirring from slumber as well. A few of them nodded grimly to Liam as he passed, others seemed reluctant to even leave their cots. Liam smirked. He couldn't blame them.

As he emerged from his tent, Liam was momentarily blinded. He shielded his eyes from the sun, and looked around. The camp was bustling, armored soldiers moving from tent to tent, shaking awake anyone who had missed the trumpets. Sighting hawks soared overhead in lazy circles, their odd metal helmets catching the light. Liam stretched in the morning light, expelling his stiffness.

He was interrupted by the sound of hoof-beats on the tramped dirt, and turned to face the approaching rider. He saluted as the horse stopped beside him. The rider, a woman, dismounted and stood in front of Liam. She wore a close fitting vest, and a dark leather helmet. Her silver monocle and the long rifle strapped over her shoulder marked her as a sniper. "Good morning, soldier. State your name and position." Her voice was soft, but it had a commanding air.

"Corporal Liam, ma'am. Platoon 53, row 1." Liam brought his arms to his side, standing at attention. The sniper cocked her head to the side. "The 53rd, hm? That's a pike-man block, isn't it?" "Yes, ma'am." The sniper shook her head, and swung back up onto her horse. "Best of luck, Corporal." She gave a curt nod, then rode away. Liam turned around, and marched toward the armory.

A few minutes later, he emerged from the armory with his pike and armor. He checked the gauges on his pike. It was pneumatic, and could extend from its normal five feet to triple that length, if needed. The dials showed an even pressure, and Liam checked the rest of his weaponry. He had a small pistol, one centimeter bore, with two extra magazines on his belt. Pike-man pistols paled in comparison to the heavier kinds carried by cavalry or rifleman, but they were something, and something was better than nothing.

Liam moved back to his tent, where the Sergeant was gathering his squad mates.


As he approached, Liam heard the gruff, nails-on-chalkboard voice of his Sergeant. It seemed the man was attempting to give some sort of speech to his Liam’s squad mates. Most of the men just rolled their eyes, tuning out the Sergeant’s ramblings. Liam formed up between two of his comrades, whispering to them. “Old iron-lungs still on about something-or-other?”

The man to his right, a top-heavy bruiser named Phyllis, mumbled to Liam. “Eyup.” Condor, the thin man to Liam’s left, chimed in. “I’m keeping a running total of how many times he says ‘honor’.” Condor smirked. “I’m on sixteen.”

“—Listen up, men! Open your ears! This is your chance to bring honor to your family, honor to those you care about, and honor to our King Alden!”

“That’s nineteen.”

“I heard that, Private Condor! Drop and give me one fifty!”

At that, Condor dropped to the ground and began grueling the task of one-hundred and fifty pushups in full field kit. The Sergeant continued his speech unmolested, and Liam was filled in on the day’s plans. It seemed that the generals had gotten word that a new Mordekian contraption, some sort of war engine, was to be deployed on this front in the days to come. The generals had decided that it would be most prudent, then, to drive the Mordeks out of this valley as soon as possible, before this new war engine could be unleashed. That meant that pike-man blocks were to be sent out through the heavily forested valley floor to root out any groups of cavalry, musketeers, or other pike-man and make way for the rest of the army to destroy the Mordek’s camps.

So, at ten-hundred hours, the first pike-man blocks set off into the forest. Liam was smack in the middle of the front row, Phyllis to his right, and the now exhausted Condor to his left. They marched, pikes held vertical in both hands, in step with each other. Phyllis looked around, scanning the forest ahead of them. He whispered to Liam out of the corner of his mouth. “Uh, Liam? Where do you think the Mords are? We haven’t seen them at all yet.”

Liam, eyes still on the trees ahead, replied. “I’ve got no idea, Phil. Keep your eyes open, though.” Condor, looked up to the sky, partially obscured by the thick canopy. “I haven’t seen a sighting hawk in a while, so we must be ahead of the rest of the vanguard.”

“Um, you really think so? That we’re in the lead?”

“We must be, Phil.” Condor looked across at Phyllis, a mischievous grin on his face. “What, you scared of a few Mords, big guy? Afraid a couple of grey-leathered toughies are gonna get ya?”

“What? No!” Phyllis fumbled with his pike for a couple seconds, before slapping it back to his shoulder. He hung his head. “I’m just missing the wife and kids, is all.”

Just as something caught Liam’s eye, Condor snorted. “Who cares, Phil? Even if you kick the bucket, your fam still gets all your pay. Double pay for front row, remember?”

Phyllis looked taken aback. “H-how could you say that?”

“Both of you shut up. I see something.” Liam pointed ahead, at a wisp of smoke over the treetops. The pike-man block marched towards the source of the smoke. After a while, they arrived at their destination.
Before the soldiers, there was a Mordek camp. At least a dozen tents lay in a wide circle, evenly spaced around a massive campfire. The campfire itself was still smoldering, as if left only recently. The pike-men advanced towards it, scanning the trees around them for any sign of the Mords. The camp was abandoned, and there were no Mords to be found.

Liam was at the head of the group, using his pike to probe a tent. He had just finished, and was moving on to check the next one, when he heard a scream behind him. In a matter of moments, the scream was drowned out by a loud clanking noise, and Liam spun around.

Behind him was an abomination of mechanical legs and blades. It had risen up from the center of the campfire, sending shards of flaming wood in all directions. Liam watched, horrified, as the war engine plucked two of his comrades up in its many bladed arms, impaling them, and cutting them into ribbons before dropping them back to the ground. Their live blood dripped from its many blades. Then, like lightning, the war engine dashed forward on its dozens of metal legs, spearing up four more pike-men and leaving their ruined bodies in its wake.

Liam heard another scream, and saw Phyllis sprinting into the forest, pike discarded behind him. He couldn’t move fast enough, and Liam closed his eyes as the war engine pounced. There was a scream of terror, the clinking of mechanical joints, and… nothing. There was only the sound of the engines movements. Everything else was drowned out by grinding and clanking and clicking. There was nothing else.

Liam opened his eyes, and saw the engine closing in on a small group of pike-men, headed by Condor. They had drawn their pistols, and were unloading magazine after magazine into the mechanical monstrosity. The engine simply shrugged off their assault and pressed forward, raising its mechanical arms up, and bringing them down. And down. And down. Until there was nothing left but crimson mud.

Liam screamed, not in fear, but in anger. He pulled a lever on his pike, and it extended to fifteen feet with a quick whoosh. He began moving the pike head in a figure of eight, building speed until the tip was but a blur. He sprinted at the war engine, screaming in hatred, tears of rage streaming down his face. The engine turned, facing his charge, and jabbed at him with its myriad of razor-bladed arms. The movement of his pike was too fast, however, and each attack was swatted aside like an errant fly. Liam roared once more, and leaped into the air. He drove his pike directly at the heart of the war engine with all his might.

As the tip of his pike met the plating of the monster, there was a snap, and Liam began to fall. He hit the ground, the two halves of his pike falling to the earth beside him. Liam opened his eyes, and the engine was upon him. It surged down, spearing his calf with a razor arm. It hefted him into the air, the blade twisting and ripping at Liam’s flesh. The pain was unbearable, like hot metal being dragged through his body. Liam would have passed out, if not for the other bladed limb driving itself into his shoulder. He felt his bones crack, and the strength leave him. Another blade drove itself through his side, and Liam screamed in agony. His throat was raw, his eyes bloodshot, and his body contorting in pain as the metal limbs of war engine tore him apart.

Then, there was a blinding flash, and Liam was falling once more. This time, however, he did not meet the hard ground. This time, something caught him. Liam looked up, and saw helmed face looking at his. He was set down, gently, and the helmed face moved further away. To Liam, it looked as if the world existed on the other side of a long tunnel, and he could only see through a small window at its end.

He saw the war engine fall, its limbs sliced apart by white swords and a massive hammer. He saw three people standing over him. He heard a voice, the voice of a woman, the sniper he had spoken to just a few hours ago, though now it seemed like years. She spoke to him, though her voice sounded very far away. She said something, and Liam could barely make it out as the world faded away.

“Stay with me, Liam.”

Then, darkness.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Guess who didn't disappear forever? It's me. I lost the only other programmer who works on the same stuff as me, so I suddenly got a whole bunch more to do. But I'm still here! I've got a snippet of my own coming as well, but for now, here are some comments (my apologies; it'll be a little less robust than usual).

@Wombat

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Much improved! This draft is definitely far more polished than the last; and it flows much better. Very good stuff! I don't think the changes you made to the chase scene detract from the energy of the passage at all; this is definitely a very strong revision on the whole.

I'm also still working on your other stuff, I promise!

Excellent! Glad to hear my revision was so largely successful. I'm quite pleased with it, myself, and I think its also stronger because while its self sufficient, it is no longer self contained in details. In other words, I'm not trying to say everything in one snippet, and letting the story tell more about things, and that's always good.

As for my "other stuff", I'm excited to see what you think! Looking forward to it. If you get some of it back to me this month, it'd be just in time for my birthday!

[mebecronck]

I finally cracked open that book on the writing process. I was so excited. I was ready to LEARN! I was going to apply these techniques and improve my writing talent ...

... and it turns out it is a book about how to write an essay about something you read. ARGH! I'm sure that I could learn something from this that would help my writing, but it is not what I wanted.

So, I went out and bought a book that was specifically for the creative writing process.

I got something big in the works for you readers out there (which might well just be DrBwaa, but whatever) and I am reworking my writing process as I create it.

However, to get the grease in my joints to work out the rust I'm going to write something that is completely out of left field.

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A Dramatic Telling of My Old Writing Process

I am just going along my normal routine. This typically entails sleep, work, television, and games. When suddenly an idea pops into my mind.

Wouldn't it be amazing if this fictional character of my own creation was in this setting, or encountered this character. The inspiration would strike me from nowhere.

So I start building the scenario in my mind. I would start from the beginning and imagined how things would evolve from there. I then reworked the scenario over and over again. I add more and more as the story forms. At no point does pencil meet paper, nor fingers meet the keyboard.

At some point, I ask myself the question, "How long will this be? A short story? A novel? A series?"

If it is just a short story, I will get on to the forum and type out the story as it flows from my fingers. The backspace key serves some purpose; one day I will figure it out.

I then click the submit button ... and begin to worry.

"No one is going to read it. Everyone will hate it. WHY DID I POST IT?!?!"

If the story is any longer, then I will open up a notepad (on the computer or an actual pad of paper) and start to take notes. Work out the details and scratch out how things will flow through the narrative. I draw lines from one side of the page to another to illustrate where certain events would fall into place. I begin to imagine it as a cohesive whole.

Then I scrape the whole thing. With a short story those worries will arrive after it is completed. Anything longer, and they arrive before completion.

"Why am I putting this much effort into something everyone will hate? What do I think I am, A WRITER?! I was stupid to spend this much time on it."

So I throw away my work, delete the saved files, and turn on some game console. My life continues the same routine. Sleep. Work. TV. Games.

I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you understand how much of myself I put into that.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

I finally cracked open that book on the writing process. I was so excited. I was ready to LEARN! I was going to apply these techniques and improve my writing talent ...

... and it turns out it is a book about how to write an essay about something you read. ARGH! I'm sure that I could learn something from this that would help my writing, but it is not what I wanted.

So, I went out and bought a book that was specifically for the creative writing process.

I got something big in the works for you readers out there (which might well just be DrBwaa, but whatever) and I am reworking my writing process as I create it.

However, to get the grease in my joints to work out the rust I'm going to write something that is completely out of left field.

Spoiler

Show

A Dramatic Telling of My Old Writing Process

I am just going along my normal routine. This typically entails sleep, work, television, and games. When suddenly an idea pops into my mind.

Wouldn't it be amazing if this fictional character of my own creation was in this setting, or encountered this character. The inspiration would strike me from nowhere.

So I start building the scenario in my mind. I would start from the beginning and imagined how things would evolve from there. I then reworked the scenario over and over again. I add more and more as the story forms. At no point does pencil meet paper, nor fingers meet the keyboard.

At some point, I ask myself the question, "How long will this be? A short story? A novel? A series?"

If it is just a short story, I will get on to the forum and type out the story as it flows from my fingers. The backspace key serves some purpose; one day I will figure it out.

I then click the submit button ... and begin to worry.

"No one is going to read it. Everyone will hate it. WHY DID I POST IT?!?!"

If the story is any longer, then I will open up a notepad (on the computer or an actual pad of paper) and start to take notes. Work out the details and scratch out how things will flow through the narrative. I draw lines from one side of the page to another to illustrate where certain events would fall into place. I begin to imagine it as a cohesive whole.

Then I scrape the whole thing. With a short story those worries will arrive after it is completed. Anything longer, and they arrive before completion.

"Why am I putting this much effort into something everyone will hate? What do I think I am, A WRITER?! I was stupid to spend this much time on it."

So I throw away my work, delete the saved files, and turn on some game console. My life continues the same routine. Sleep. Work. TV. Games.

I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you understand how much of myself I put into that.

What book be this, friend? I wish to learn too!

[PaperMustache]

I got something big in the works for you readers out there (which might well just be DrBwaa, but whatever) and I am reworking my writing process as I create it.

For my money I usually read most of the stuff on this board when I'm not procrastinating on my own endeavors. I just stopped critiquing people's stuff because DrBwaa always does such an excellent job and I feel like my comments are redundant, stupid, and entirely unwanted. I like your work and you should have more self confidence. Everything looks ****ty the first time you write it, especially big projects!

[mebecronck]

What book be this, friend? I wish to learn too!

I didn't put the title of the book in because I'm still reading it. I want to make sure that this is something worth recommending before I actually recommend it.

I can refer one book for you though. I just started it, but if it does what it says it does, then it is worth picking up.

Triple Your Reading Speed" by: Wade E. Cutler.

I'm a little critical of my slow reading speed. I was tested on it before. I have been told it is actually rather fast. However, it still takes me a few days to read books that most other people finish in a day.

For my money I usually read most of the stuff on this board when I'm not procrastinating on my own endeavors. I just stopped critiquing people's stuff because DrBwaa always does such an excellent job and I feel like my comments are redundant, stupid, and entirely unwanted. I like your work and you should have more self confidence. Everything looks ****ty the first time you write it, especially big projects!

Thanks for reading my little stories. I read other peoples stories, too. I don't critique them because I don't feel like I have any right to do so.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

For my money I usually read most of the stuff on this board when I'm not procrastinating on my own endeavors. I just stopped critiquing people's stuff because DrBwaa always does such an excellent job and I feel like my comments are redundant, stupid, and entirely unwanted. I like your work and you should have more self confidence. Everything looks ****ty the first time you write it, especially big projects!

Thanks for reading my little stories. I read other peoples stories, too. I don't critique them because I don't feel like I have any right to do so.

I try and get time to read everyones, but more often than not I haven't gotten to read a lot on here. Still, extra views and chime ins I think more than not would encourage people on here, and also, reinforce indentification of strengths and weaknesses. In other words, getting more than one opinion I've always felt to be quite valuble. Someone might have comprehended something that I or DrBwaa have not, or vice versa. Plus, it helps you practice looking at your own work overtly when you critque others.

I didn't put the title of the book in because I'm still reading it. I want to make sure that this is something worth recommending before I actually recommend it.

I can refer one book for you though. I just started it, but if it does what it says it does, then it is worth picking up.

Triple Your Reading Speed" by: Wade E. Cutler.

I'm a little critical of my slow reading speed. I was tested on it before. I have been told it is actually rather fast. However, it still takes me a few days to read books that most other people finish in a day.

Alright, I shall wait for the other title, but I'll check out "Triple...". I like savouring books in my first go, so I read rather slow, and then repeated read-throughs I power through with increased vigor.

As for your short work on describing your writing style -

In my experience, writers come in three categories -

1. I write something and immediately have doubts about its quality.

2. I write something and have full belief that it will be liked by everyone.

3. A healthy amount of both.

That you can write at all in a way where you can express yourself means that you are a writer. It shouldn't matter if you're good or not. Write because you can. Because you have to get it out. Worry should come in the second stage - editing.

I have the same problem you do (and have trouble taking the same advice I'm giving you). I often need reinforcement to continue writing, because I doubt my abilities as a writer, or my knowledge of basic grammar at times. Still, I write, because there's something about creating something new that's both alluring, fantastic, and addictive that keeps me going. Write from your heart, then from your head.

[PaperMustache]

I try and get time to read everyones, but more often than not I haven't gotten to read a lot on here. Still, extra views and chime ins I think more than not would encourage people on here, and also, reinforce indentification of strengths and weaknesses. In other words, getting more than one opinion I've always felt to be quite valuble. Someone might have comprehended something that I or DrBwaa have not, or vice versa. Plus, it helps you practice looking at your own work overtly when you critque others.

If you feel that way, I'll try to offer some comments to your next work. I have always appreciated a second or third opinion, no matter who it was from. I used to think this feeling was universal, but some people just want you to read it and that's it. If anyone else wants more comments on their stuff, let me know.

[mebecronck]

Alright guys. I had the first draft up for awhile, but once I started revisions myself ... well I hate it. I took it down and now the second draft is going up.

The title is a working title. I don't quite like it, but it will do until I get a better idea. Furthermore the answer is, "Yes." That does say Chapter 1. I'm trying my hands at a novel.

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Jessica's Misadventures
in High School

Chapter 1
An Island Getaway

'My wings never felt so sore in my life,' she thinks while trying to regain some altitude. It has only been a few hours since Jessica left the island. This is the first time it is out of sight, and now all she sees is water in all directions. The compass in her hand keeps her on the a straight path. All she can do now is hope that this will eventually lead to land.

She feels like she can't fly any further. She needs a place to rest and use her healing power to refresh her muscles. Healing while in flight is too dangerous. The concentration needed to heal would take away from her focus on staying aloft. She considers just landing in the water and resting, but that could just as dangerous in the open ocean.

Another hour later and, finally, Jessica sees something other than water. It isn't the mainland and she knows it. As she flies in she could tell that it is an island. An island far bigger than the one she grew up in, but an island none the less.

'Land! I almost can't believe it.' Seeing land brings her renewed vigor. She makes straight for it like an arrow just let loose from the bow. She locates a nice flat spot to land and collapses to the ground.

"Oh, thank you Land." She says laying face down, moving her hands across the dirt as if trying to hug it. "Thank you! THANK YOU! You showed up at just the right time."

The midday Sun beats heavily upon her. She would raise her wings to increase the shade, but they are too sore to move. That burst of adrenaline has worn off and now she just feels the crash of exhaustion.

"Perhaps I should have taken Henry's boat when he offered" she whispers. She chuckles at herself, feeling very silly in hindsight.

*******

She rests for a few minutes before working up the strength to push herself up and take a seated position. She can hear the sound of the waves beating the cliff face of the western shore and dense vegetation to the east blocks her view inland.

She wraps her wings around her and starts to massage each one, working some healing energy into each. Her hands let out a soft glow like that of a weak candle, only barely visible in the daylight. Once she is done tending to her wings she notices her once pristine white robes are stained brown with dirt.

"Looks like the island hugged me back," Jessica laughs to herself. "I appreciate the show of affection Mr. Island, but I want to make a good impression when I make it to the mainland."

She stands up and stretches her arms, legs, and wings in one big full body stretch. She unties her robe and pulls out a small bag from its inner lining. She sets the bag on a large flat rock nearby, almost tall enough to make for a functional table, and then disrobes the soiled garment.

She searches deep into the small bag. The bag itself contains a pocket dimension about the size of a small bedroom. The only limit on what it can hold is what you can fit into the opening. It now holds many things that were given to her by friends to help her journey.

Jessica packed a couple of changes of clothing, white robes that wrap around her neck drape over her front and connect into a skirt the end between her knees and feet. They leave her back bare for her wings. A spare set of shoes, leather sandals with straps that wrap high around her heels.

Henry gave her a small collection of books. She actually only accepted one, but it would seem that he sneaked some more in without her knowing.

Her father gave her some food, mostly dried fruits and nuts, fresh water in a watertight skin, a map of the world and a compass. The map is useless for now, since she doesn't have any clue of where her home island is located. She finds this exciting, though. Being lost is part of the adventure for her.

Father also insisted that she take mother's old jewelry box. He told her that if she needed money that she should sell some of the jewelry. The notion of selling the only memento of her mother, who died the same day she was born, is nauseating to her, to say the least. Along with the jewelry though is one piece that Father told her to keep.

Mother's engagement ring. Dad crafted it himself. He told the story of its creation several times. He wanted to make sure it was truly special. He went to a white dwarf star and took a fragment from the surface and shaped it into a heart. He made the ring from gold collected from nearby asteroids. He then cast several enchantments on it to make it light enough to carry and to pacify the radiation.

When he told the story he pointed straight up, right at a single star and said, "That is the star that gave birth to this ring." That is the most beautiful story Jessica ever heard.

"There is no way I'm selling this ring, dad!" Jessica shouts, caught up in the memory. She hesitates for a moment. Her Father has the power to remotely view other locations, and he regularly checks in on her. Not from a lack of trust, but just because he worries. If he is listening in at this moment he might respond. When no answer returns she lets out a sigh of relief.

When Dad gave her the ring he told her that he added some new enchantments to it just for her. When she wears the ring it will make her wings seem to disappear. No one will be able to see or touch them, though they are still there. He warned her that she won't be able to fly with the ring on.

She is not interested in losing her wings even temporarily. Her Dad seems to think that the humans of the mainland will react negatively to her wings. That she will be treated like a scary monster. She thinks that is just her Dad overly concerned as normal.

She pulls out the fresh robe from her bag and quickly ties it on. After throwing the dirty robes into her bag she tucks it away into the inner lining of her clean robes and then checks her compass. As she looks at the compass her smile fades, the excitement of the adventure giving way to reason.

"Maybe, I should set up camp and wait until dawn. Wouldn't want to be flying over the open ocean in the middle of the night." her voice low and sullen. She then hears some noise coming from inland. Leaves rustling and branches breaking.

"Who's out there? No use in hiding. I heard your voice" a deep masculine voice comes from the foliage. A tall muscular man in green clothes with patches on the shoulders emerges from the brush. His skin tanned dark and eyes covered by tinted glasses and shaded by a brimmed hat.

"Good day to you, sir." Jessica bows politely as he emerges, a genuine smile beams from her face.

"What are you doing here, and how did you get here?" The man says with authority, although briefly taken aback by here physical appearance.

"I flew here" she answered plainly pointing at her wings with left hand.

"Very cute." The man answers. "However you got here you need to leave. This island is a protected national park, and this area is not permitted to tourists."

"Oh, that reminds me" hearing the island reminded her of the map in her bag. She quickly sticks her hand in her robe to pull it out.

"Whoa, hold on there." The man panics, he raises his left hand in a defensive posture from instinct as he starts to move his right hand towards his waist.

"Could you tell me where I am, please?" She asks politely while holding up the map.

The man immediately calms down. "Did you even listen to what I just ..." he begins, but then lets out a sigh and says, "This is San Miguel Island. My name is Sam and I am with the Island Authority. How did you get here without knowing where you are? Are you shipwrecked?"

"No, I flew." She responds plainly while unfolding the map. "Could you point it out on the map, please?"

Sam puts his face in the palm of his hand and shakes his head back and forth. "Alright, here. Let me see." He holds the right side of the map while Jessica holds the left. With his left hand he points along the western edge and says, "Here is San Miguel."

"So, if I fly straight east I will arrive in California. Thank you so much, sir." She exclaims. She jumps up and gives the man a big hug. Sam is taken off guard by this and goes quiet and still, unsure how to respond.

Jessica runs off towards the coast and spreads her wings. She turns around briefly to wave goodbye and gives one last heartfelt thank you. She then falls backwards off the cliff face. Sam watches this with his mouth ajar in terror. His terror turned to surprise when he sees her rise back up and fly away.

"I swear to God, I will never drink again." For some reason, the vow has more impact this time.

I hope you enjoy it. I also hope you have some critiques for me. Tell me what you like, what you hate, where my grammar sucks, etc.

[Arkhosia]

The backstory of Sariel Blackbriar, Elven Explorer Extraordinaire!

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Sariel Blackbriar

Species: Drow/Elf

Age: 38

Gender: Female
"You follow a dead god. Your god's followers brought inferno to my home, torched it's children, and made firewood out of it's foundations, and the Phoenix has risen. When you see him in, say, 10 seconds, tell Gruums he is as good as dead.
Appearance:
Like most elves, Sariel is tall, at 5'10", and lithe. She wieghs 133 pounds, and has slate grey skin, platinum blond hair she cuts in a moptop. She has violet irises (elven eyes). She wears a simple maroon tunic over long black pants. She is almost never is seen without her turquoise scale gauntlets, cuirass, and boots.

Backstory:
Sariel was always a... special case.
She was raised by an elven soldier named Lucan for most of her life in an elven community. Her dreams of becoming a world reknowned sellsword, a personal dislike for archery, and a impulsive streak causing her to stand out in the village.
The slate-colored skin, purple eyes, and platinum blond moptop probably was a factor as well.

For Sariel is a half-drow.

No one truly knows who her real parents were, except for two facts: 1. They lived in the drow settlement of Lythier, and 2. They're probably dead. Long ago, Lucan was part of a large group of warriors who destroyed the settlement. Lucan found Sariel, only a few weeks old, and adopted her. When Lucan first adopted Sariel, many elves obviously objected, but Lucan fiercely defended this claim, with a point that he might be able to redeem a drow. Many still harbored a dislike of Lucan and Sariel, but kept it private, likely because Lucan was one of the best warriors in the community, and they weren't willing to lose a great warrior over a dispute of adoption. They lived in close proximity to Orc territory, and elves have, as you likely know, a very low birthrate. Not only did they not want to lose a warrior, but they, although they didn't want to admit it, needed anyone they could get, for many elves were lost in the raid of Lythier. Lucan never told anyone why he adopted Sariel, but others think it may have been her light skin, blond hair and purple irises, which were qualities his long-dead wife had (very pale-was a wizard, often inside with her spellbooks). As she grew older, it quickly became apparent that Sariel had more elf blood in her veins, so to spread, for she shared many qualities with the other elves that the drow did not. however, she did often lack judgement in decisions, often prompting her to jump headfirst into many situations.

What she did lack in wisdom, however, she made up for in charisma. Sariel easily made friends, though partly due to the fact that most of the younger elves in the village believed drow were not evil by birth, and could bluff or negotiate her way out of almost any situation. She became a guard for the town, a task she found disappointingly boring, but was grateful for, as it allowed her to follow in her adoptive father's footsteps: Lucan even passed down to her his scale armor and longsword when he heard of her decision to join.

She probably would have stayed, if it weren't for the orcs.

A Orc raiding party ransacked her town, killing many, including Lucan, and destroying her home. She fought bravely, but decided that fleeing would be the smartest course of action in this predicament after suffering many injuries. She swore to make Gruumsh regret the day he ever commanded his followers to slay innocents and pillage settlements.

With a blade in her left, a shield on the right, scales upon her chest, an oath upon her lips, and a limp, she departed to eliminate those who follow the vile commands of Gruumsh.

Traits:
Sariel has astounding eyesight for an elf, and it has been noted that she can see with even the tiniest sliver of light available. She has extensive knowledge of history, mathematics, tactics, and warfare in general. Beings part drow, she does not really care about race, having few prejudices against them.

Flaws:
As mentioned before, Sariel is impulsive, and her absolute hate of raiding parties will often prompt her to charge without thinking, unless restrained quickly.
Sariel also has no true notion of discrimination of races, and is not aware of the prejudices toward her race.

[mebecronck]

@Arkhosia

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First I will say that I did enjoy the background on Sariel. Now that that is out of the way; here are some critiques

First on a general level I found that the stories seem a little better organized and easier to read if you indent each paragraph and separate each one with a space. That is more of a style choice, though.

her life in a elven community

An*

community, with dreams

"... community. She has dreams ..." This way the whole paragraph won't be one really long sentence. I'm guilty of super-long sentences too often myself.

white moptop probably was a facto as well.

factor*

For Sariel was a half-drow.

is* a half-drow.

who her real parents were

who her real parents are*

Lucan found Sariel, only a few weeks old, and adopted her.

A little more insight into that decision would be nice. Especially considering how elves really, REALLY, hate drow. Even half-drow. (I'm a big fan of drow.)

As she grew ilder,

That could be "idler" or "wilder". Is she becoming lazy or crazy?

it quickly became apparent that Sariel was part elf,

In that her other half is elf? That would also be nice to expand upon. It seems very unlikely that an elf and drow would fall in love. Although, considering drow, consent might not have been a factor. The drow hate elves enough that it is unlikely that one would mate with an elf.

She did often lack judgement in decisions, her reckless personality often prompting her to jump headfirst into many situations.

The two sentences seem kind of redundant here. Might just be me.

Sariel easily made friends

A half-drow easily making friends in an elven community. That seems unlikely. Could you expand on this?

if it weren't for orcs.

the orcs.*

I did enjoy the read, and look forward to your future works. Feel free to critique my writing, too.

[PaperMustache]

@mebecronk

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Okay, I really really hate to start off with a negative but this first chapter has some major tense issues that are going to be very easy to fix. You seem to switch between past and present tense a lot. Past is usually thought to be best, but I write in first person so what do I know? Just pick one. For example:

'My wings never felt so sore in my life,' she thought while trying to regain some altitude. It has only been a few hours since Jessica left the island.

Either switch "thought" to "thinks" to make it all present tense, or change "has" to "had" to make it all past. I won't hit you over the head with the rest unless you have trouble and want it. Also you should use quotation marks instead of apostrophes, which you don't seem to do anywhere but here. "My wings never felt so sore in my life." Very minor changes to a great start.

She made straight for it like an arrow just let loose from the bow.

Great simile for someone in flight, especially on angel wings.

As she flew in she could tell that it is an island.

Woah, she just prostrated herself on the ground from exhaustion. Why is she flying? Wouldn't it be easier to walk? Or are you saying that she could tell while she was in the air? In which case, say that before she lands and is adorable.

A smile crept across her face as she laughed at the hindsight.

Better wording for this, I think. Perhaps: "...." She chuckled to herself, feeling very silly in hindsight.

She wraps her wings around her and starts to message each one,

*Massage

"Looks like the island hugged me back," Jessica laughs to herself.

Awwww cutie.

She unties her robe and pulls out a small bag from its' inner lining.

He told the story of its' creation several times

No need for an apostrophe here. "Its" is possessive because English hates us all.

"Good day to you, sir." Jessica bows politely as he emerges, a genuine smile beams from her face.

Not a criticism, more a suggestion, because this situation is ripe for a little flare with her wings added to the bow. Just to make it clear how unintentionally intimidating the situation is for this poor park ranger. A simple "...bows politely, unfurling her wings parallel to the ground as she had been instructed to do in formal situations." Or something. There must me wing-etiquette among angels, and Jessica seems just the sort to gobble that information up. Or not, it's fine either way.

"I swear to God, I will never drink again." For some reason, this vow had more impact this time.

I loled.

Overall impression: I'm really glad you're trying your hand at a longer form of story. Jessica is, as ever, a very cute and likable character. Your comedic sense is endearingly self-conscious and perfect for a high school story. Work on pinning down a tense, and perhaps varying your sentence length a bit. Can't wait for the next chapter!

@Arkhosia

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It seems like mebecronk already pointed out a lot of stuff, so I won't repeat.

dreams of becoming a world reknowned sellsword

*Renowned

For Sariel was a half-drow.

Cool, but is she half-drow half-elf, or half-drow half-human? I assumed she was full-blooded elf because she was raised in an elven community.

But for a few flaws, a good character introduction. I really like the half-drow aesthetic. Plus you get all of the chaotic with less of the evil. Good start.

If I could beg guillt humbly request that either of you critique my latest snippet, it's on the previous page and I would be very grateful.

[Arkhosia]

Thanks for the critique guys! I have changed it accordingly.
@PaperMustache
Love the backstory! I would like to know more about how she found Sam's parent: a 5 year old just doesn't seem like someone you'd expect to learn such a thing.
It's too bad that you're planning to make her go insane: I love the character just how she is!

BTW: Sariel's alignment is hard to say: it's a combo of chaotic good and chaotic Nuetral.

[mebecronck]

@PaperMustache

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Okay, I really really hate to start off with a negative but this first chapter has some major tense issues that are going to be very easy to fix.

I frequently have verb tense issues. I even picked up a grammar book just for the section on verb tenses. Everytime I think I got it down ... argh. I would be happy if you did point out where else it is wrong. I will try to get it worked out soon.

Also you should use quotation marks instead of apostrophes, which you don't seem to do anywhere but here.

This is actually a style choice I use. I've seen it with other authors and adopted it myself. Basically, I use quotations when the character speaks aloud, and "single quotations" (apostrophes) when they are thinking to themselves.

Great simile for someone in flight, especially on angel wings.

Thank you. I do occasionally have moments of brilliance.

Woah, she just prostrated herself on the ground from exhaustion. Why is she flying? Wouldn't it be easier to walk? Or are you saying that she could tell while she was in the air? In which case, say that before she lands and is adorable.

It would have made more sense to mention that sooner. She saw it from the air, before she landed.

Better wording for this, I think. Perhaps: "...." She chuckled to herself, feeling very silly in hindsight.

I like that better.

*Massage

You failed me for the last time spellcheck. Get the cement shoes ready Brutus.

Awwww cutie.

Thanks again.

No need for an apostrophe here. "Its" is possessive because English hates us all.

*slaps forhead*

Not a criticism, more a suggestion, because this situation is ripe for a little flare with her wings added to the bow. Just to make it clear how unintentionally intimidating the situation is for this poor park ranger. A simple "...bows politely, unfurling her wings parallel to the ground as she had been instructed to do in formal situations." Or something. There must be wing-etiquette among angels, and Jessica seems just the sort to gobble that information up. Or not, it's fine either way.

I do intend to have her be very expressive with her wings at times. Reflecting emotions and gesturing with the conversation I didn't want to do it here because I wanted the reader to assume that the ranger might be in denial. A "She's just a girl in an angel costume" sort of deal. If her wings started moving organically then all uncertainty would be blown away.

As for a particular false assumption I am going to tackle that in a semi-(Ask-Me-Anything) style.

(Jessica takes the keyboard)

"Good afternoon, or morning, whenever you read this. My name is Jessica. I'm so glad you enjoyed my story so far. However, you seem to be a little mistaken about one thing.

Oh, sorry. I don't mean to offend. The mistake is understandable, but I'm not an angel.

My Dad is an ascended deva, and my mom is human. So, I'm half-deva. Devas are very much like angels. We both have feathery wings. However, angels have more than just two. Among other differences.

As for wing etiquette, I'm sorry, but I never learned anything about that. The only other person I know with wings is my Dad, and all he knows of etiquette he learned from the four thousand years he lived on Earth. Well, at least, that is all he taught me.

As for his life before living on Earth, well, he doesn't talk about it.

I hope that clears some things up, and thank you so much for reading the first chapter. If you have any more questions, please feel free to share them with me."

I loled.

Thanks, again.

Overall impression: I'm really glad you're trying your hand at a longer form of story. Jessica is, as ever, a very cute and likable character. Your comedic sense is endearingly self-conscious and perfect for a high school story. Work on pinning down a tense, and perhaps varying your sentence length a bit. Can't wait for the next chapter!

You can't wait. Ah, dammit. Now I got to write the next chapter. Who's brilliant idea was it to write a long form story. Oh, that's right. Me.

@Papermustache's story

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I am critiquing as I read, so I'm holding off on the overall opinion until the end.

Eerily neutral, made more so by their shocking blue color.

I find the color blue to be more associated with calm and relaxing, like the ocean wave on a beach. Neutral, however, I find more synonymous with apathy. While calm is not a very "energetic" emotion, it is still an emotion. This is more an art critique, though.

I said with a no doubt unstable looking grin.

"I said with an undoubtedly unstable grin" sounds better than "no doubt".

"I said with an uneven grin." works better for me, though. Subtlety.

She replied, looking worried.

I thought she had complete control of her emotions?

You always were his favorite." I caught a twinge if jealousy

No, really?

"He's the leader of the single largest and best equipped information network on this continent. Of course he's looking, and of course he knows I know he's looking. But as long as I don't let on that I know, I'm sort of pseudo-allowed to read his stuff."

She blinked in confusion.

But, if he knows, that you know, that he knows, that you know, that he knows ... wait, which know am I on now?

She looped her arm around mine. "You're not getting rid of me that easily. Wherever you go, I'm going to."

Sam ... wise Gamgee. When did you get a sex change?

I really enjoyed it. You are definitely a more experienced writer than me. I feel like I can't do much in the way of any real critique here. Other than a few comedic insights as I was reading.

I look forward to the next installment.

[Arkhosia]

Changed the backstory to be in mebecronck format!
My best PC yet: actually going to change my avatar.
P.s.: Lord Gareth, can you please make more stories about your awesome bard?

[mebecronck]

@Arkhosia

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Changed the backstory to be in mebecronck format!

I got a format named after me. People said I wouldn't amount to anything. Well what do they have to say now. Probably the same thing, but still, this is a nice little boost to my ego.

Now to the critique of the reformatted character bio.

First of all, you could have done both. One was a story format and the character bio is, well, a character bio. Like something you would see on the back of Superhero trading cards.

"Anyone remember them? Anyone? No? Just ... just me, then?" *Sigh*

she cuts in a moptop (zuko style!).

I get it. I love the Avatar series, too. (Book 2 of Legend of Korra is coming soon!) However, moptop is enough for us to get the hairstyle, and not everyone will get the Zuko reference. Also, you forgot to captilize the Z in Zuko.

She is almost never is seen

The extra "is"

Backstory:
Sariel was always a... special case.

I see you kept the backstory and placed in the field of ... backstory.
I think you should put a space in between each paragraph. It will get rid of the "big wall of text" effect that is going on there. It will make it easier to read all around.

Sariel has astounding eyesight for an elf (still has darkvision), and she has extensive knowledge of history, mathematics, tactics, and warfare in general.

I can see the skill points being assigned. I find it difficult at times, too. You should look for ways to describe your character without too much reference to "gamespeak"

Beings part drow, she does not really care about race, having few prejudices against them.

First: Being*
Second: This steps away from the drow I know (and love) because drow are, well, racist. They consider themselves superior and literally use members of the other races as slaves.

If you want to learn a little more about drow life in the Underdark, I recommend "Homeland" by: R. A. Salvatore

her absolute hate of raiding parties

Who likes them? From what I read so far on your character, I get the impression that what she really hates is orcs.

will often prompt her to charge without thinking at them unless restrained quickly.

Thinking at them? You might mean "thinking of them" or just "charge in without thinking". Also, I think you need a comma between them and unless.

"... will often prompt her to charge in without thinking, unless restrained quickly."

All in all, good work. You did help to fill in some gaps on her character and I look forward to your next installment. Things are typically messy when first introducing a character (at least it feels that way with me). You will find the story flowing better once you get into the meat of it.

[Arkhosia]

@Arkhosia

I got a format named after me. People said I wouldn't amount to anything. Well what do they have to say now. Probably the same thing, but still, this is a nice little boost to my ego.

Second: This steps away from the drow I know (and love) because drow are, well, racist. They consider themselves superior and literally use members of the other races as slaves.

She was raised as an elf from birth: she was never really subjected drow culture.

My only reply is the bolded part.
Will fix the grammar mistakes.

[mebecronck]

Wow, I'm responding fast today aren't I? I'm off for the rest of the day and don't have anything else to do. Plus the book I'm reading suggests that helping to critique writing can help with your own. So I'm making a concerted effort to critique more often.

Please note that this isn't a complaint to your writing, as I (try) to not take your critique of mine as a complaint as well. This is all to help each other become better writers (and part of that is taking criticism).

@Arkhosia

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She was raised as an elf from birth: she was never really subjected drow culture.

Beings part drow, she does not really care about race

The opening part of the statement, "Being part drow" suggests that the "does not really care about race" comes from being part drow.

I understand that she was raised in an elven community and this would suggest that the typical drow traits would not be present. Yet, at the same time, elves typically have an intense hatred for drow. Even half-drow. Even half-drow whose other half is elf.

This makes me feel like I'm missing a lot of the Sariel's story here. For example, the issues that arise from being raised in a community that judges you by your physical appearance. How did they come to trust her? The feelings of being singled out in an entire community. The religious ramifications consider Lolth, The Goddess of the Drow, and Corellon Larethian, The God of the Elves, absolutely hate each other.

That is just the start, too.

It's just, being a big fan of the drow myself, it seems extremely unlikely that she was just welcomed by a community of elves and treated like family.

This is why some of my first critiques are "Could you expand on this, please?"

Like I said, though. I look forward to your future installments.

[Arkhosia]

The opening part of the statement, "Being part drow" suggests that the "does not really care about race" comes from being part drow.

I sort of meant that due to being part drow, she did not have prejudices, as her race, so to speak, is in a blood-feud with her foster race, and she is still accepted mainly by the elves in her community (of course she learned about the Crown wars (or the setting's equivalent)!).

I understand that she was raised in an elven community and this would suggest that the typical drow traits would not be present. Yet, at the same time, elves typically have an intense hatred for drow. Even half-drow. Even half-drow whose other half is elf.

This makes me feel like I'm missing a lot of the Sariel's story here. For example, the issues that arise from being raised in a community that judges you by your physical appearance. How did they come to trust her? The feelings of being singled out in an entire community. The religious ramifications consider Lolth, The Goddess of the Drow, and Corellon Larethian, The God of the Elves, absolutely hate each other.

When Lucan first adopted Sariel, many elves obviously objected, but Lucan fiercely defended this claim, with a point that he might be able to redeem a drow. Many still harbored a dislike of Lucan and Sariel, but kept it private, likely because Lucan was one of the best warriors in the community, and they weren't willing to lose a great warrior over a dispute of adoption. They lived in close proximity to Orc territory, and elves have, as you likely know, a very low birthrate. Not only did they not want to lose a warrior, but they, although they didn't want to admit it, needed anyone they could get, for many elves were lost in the raid of Lythier.
Lucan was killed in the raid, so that fear was never dispelled.

This is why some of my first critiques are "Could you expand on this, please?"

Like I said, though. I look forward to your future installments.
[/SPOILER]

[mebecronck]

@Arkhosia

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When Lucan first adopted Sariel, many elves obviously objected, but Lucan fiercely defended this claim, with a point that he might be able to redeem a drow. Many still harbored a dislike of Lucan and Sariel, but kept it private, likely because Lucan was one of the best warriors in the community, and they weren't willing to lose a great warrior over a dispute of adoption. They lived in close proximity to Orc territory, and elves have, as you likely know, a very low birthrate. Not only did they not want to lose a warrior, but they, although they didn't want to admit it, needed anyone they could get, for many elves were lost in the raid of Lythier.
Lucan was killed in the raid, so that fear was never dispelled.

This looks like something nice to add to the backstory. Helps flush out the character some more and makes the character more relatable on top of that.

Also, as a forum suggestion. Might want to use the spoiler tag more often. So that someone reading through the posts won't accidently pick up on something in a previous story entry they haven't gotten to yet. As a general rule for myself; non-story related text for anyone goes outside the spoilers, and stories, as well as critiques on stories go inside spoilers.

You don't have to, but some readers and writers might take offense.

[Arkhosia]

@Arkhosia

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This looks like something nice to add to the backstory. Helps flush out the character some more and makes the character more relatable on top of that.

Also, as a forum suggestion. Might want to use the spoiler tag more often. So that someone reading through the posts won't accidently pick up on something in a previous story entry they haven't gotten to yet. As a general rule for myself; non-story related text for anyone goes outside the spoilers, and stories, as well as critiques on stories go inside spoilers.

You don't have to, but some readers and writers might take offense.

I have added it to the backstory. Again, thanks a lot for the critiques!

[mebecronck]

@Arkhosia

I have added it to the backstory. Again, thanks a lot for the critiques!

No problem, and feel free to critique any of my works. They are all over the place in here. My most recent one is on this page. Or right here, I will give you the link.

http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showp...&postcount=431

Criticize or compliment. Tell me what you hate, like, what could be better. More than happy to get feedback. It is an important part of the creative process.

[Arkhosia]

@Arkhosia


No problem, and feel free to critique any of my works. They are all over the place in here. My most recent one is on this page. Or right here, I will give you the link.

http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showp...&postcount=431

Criticize or compliment. Tell me what you hate, like, what could be better. More than happy to get feedback. It is an important part of the creative process.

Love it, especially the "I swear I will never drink again." Part.

[Winds]

Due the the influx of new faces, I will point out: This snippet is fairly well into the campaign (30-odd pages in the word processor file I'm keeping the snippets in) and I'm not great at recaps. The good Doctor has been keeping a compendium for us in the original post, however.


Anyway.


Returning to the tower

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"Kalach...what do you suppose is happening with the other two?"

"I don't know. But we don't have time to worry about it, we need to focus on getting that tower unclaimed. First things first. We have trades to make..."

About an hour later

"So...we can't get a bow without trading services. As fresh ghosts the only thing we have to offer is our combat skill...which you can't use without the bow we can't trade for. More to the point, we wouldn't need to trade for a bow if we had our own equipment, which we can't have without trading for other services, which we wouldn't need to bother with if we had the tools to do it with. Enough. I'll kill the bloody ghosteaters myself. The worst they can do is kill me."

Kol looks a bit uncomfortable at that. "I'll help. As much as I can."

If he wants to risk himself, I don't mind. In any case, he can't make things harder on me.

As we leave town, I gather in my power.

It's felt different to me, ever since my stint in the Nine. Unsurprising, I suppose. I was granted a great deal more power...and not pleasantly, either...

Where once I felt embers, now I feel an inferno raging in my soul.

It doesn't take long for the ghost eaters to show up once we're out of the militia's bow range. They're still ugly things, just blobs of grey proto-flesh that's mostly mouth. Kol takes off running, luring them into my range and counting on his speed to keep him safe. That serves just fine. The things rely on numbers, and numbers are no defense against magic that can kill five at a time. I kill...a bunch of them. I don't know. Then that little girl shows up. Or, more accurately...


"Hello."

"Argk?"


Truly, I am at my best when surprised.


"You should go back to town now."

"Of course. Whatever you like."


She vanishes again. Why couldn't those ghost tricks be easy? I've never heard of ghosts having to practice these things...

We're both able to get away from what's left of the ghosteaters without difficulty.

"I don't trust her" Kol muttered.

"Doesn't matter. We don't really seem to have any choice in the matter. What makes you dislike her so much, anyway?"

"Vanishing like that...what's she up to? I mean, who's to say she's going to do what she said?"

"We'll figure something out, if she doesn't...Nothing to be done about it now."



Elsewhere



"They're dead? But...how can they both be dead? I was only gone for a minute!"

"I don't think that would have mattered, lass. Looks like they both went quick. Two arrows each."

"But-"


Aileph and Jessica are then interrupted by the sudden appearance of what seems to be a little girl...


"Hello. I'm Ethereal."



...And in the Ethereal Plane, soon after


The girl shows up a few minutes after we do, carrying a rucksack.

"Here you go."

Inside the sack is out gear. My armor, scepter, and amulet. Kol's armor, bow, arrows, and sundries. All now tangible to us.

"Happy now, Kol?"

"No. Still don't like her."

Ethereal doesn't seem to notice that.

"So. I blasted ghosteaters for you. Will you lead us to the tower now?"

"Yes."

"Simple. I've missed simple. It won't last long, I'm sure."


It doesn't take long to get there. No ghosteaters bother us. Just the creepy sky I can't quite see to sour the journey. Ethereal gestures at the tower, and the hidden door shows itself as usual.

"Good luck."


And with that, she's gone. Kol and I share a grimace at what is yet to come, and stride though.

As before with a claimed tower, we find ourselves in not the antechamber of the tower, but the demesne of it's owner. In this case, the Nine.

I haven't missed it.

Still, all goes much better than usual. We encounter several types of beast native to the plane, but find them unable to hurt us. Same when Kol, for the first time I've ever seen, trips a trap he was trying to disarm. A set of darts phases right through us.

Our fun is spoiled by what we find in the next room, however. We peek our heads though the door just enough to see, and whisper to each other.

"What are they, Kalach?"

"Devils of some kind. They might be able to hurt us, and even if they can't they could call help. Leave them be."


But as we step back, there is a flash of light in the room, and two people fall to the ground inside.

"Was that-"

"The paladin and the healer? Yes."

"We need to help them."

"...Yes."


Even after I die and plane shift-twice-I still have to deal with the paladin.


So Kol and I both head in. Despite my concern, the devils are no match for three combatants of our caliber. Four, if you count Jessica as a combatant.


"Kol...Warlock...What happened to yeh?"

"We died. Suddenly."

"More to the point, how did you two get here?"

Aileph and Jessica look like they aren't happy about the question, but Kol interrupts. "Does it matter? We need to keep moving."

So now, on top of being dead, condemned, ghostly, and unwillingly sworn to the deity that rules the Nine, now my only comrades are keeping secrets from me.


Truly, mine is a charmed life.

[Arkhosia]

Added a badass quote for my bio. Hope you guys like it.
Do any of you guys think it wouldn't be too much of a stretch if Sariel became a paladin after this?

@Wind

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As before with a claimed tower, we find ourselves in not the antechamber of the tower, but the demesne of it's owner. In this case, the Nine.

Demense? Is that a spelling mistake?

[TuggyNE]

Demense? Is that a spelling mistake?

No, it's not.

The More You Know!

[Arkhosia]

No, it's not.

The More You Know!

Oh, that makes sense!
Because it looked like someone had misspelled demeans, and that would be odd.

[Winds]

Being a lit nerd does help with that. (Also, I used spellcheck to make sure.)