This is a thread for telling your character's backstories, current stories, or offscreen adventures in story form, rather than interactive roleplay. Everything posted here is presumed canon unless otherwise stated. Non-canon, alternate-Nexus, or stories from other settings are welcome also, and will be indexed in a separate table from the canon stories.
Rules of the thread:
Please do not use anyone else's character, faction, or other creation without their permission. Since this is a canon thread, I will not be collecting a 'blanket permissions' list as was done in the Alt thread.
Sexual content should be none to minimal. Fade to black or use the curtain.
Same with explicit violence. Read the Forum Rules if you aren't sure whether your content is appropriate.
If you want your story indexed, you must provide a header with a story title. Character/Topic is encouraged, but optional.
Suggestions:
Non-canon or other non-Nexus stories are allowed, but please specify them as such so they will be indexed properly.
Authors, check your entries on the index to make sure the link works, and the story is indexed the way you like.
Readers, please give lots of feedback! This is fuel for writers. Putting a story out there and hearing nothing at all is very dispiriting. Getting affirmation that the story was read and appreciated encourages more stories.
These stories were written ages ago, concerning a character who is almost never onscreen anymore. Happy was my original PC. Darcy is an alternate dimension version of her.
Point of divergence (spoilers for stories above):
Spoiler
The point of divergence in their stories is Uncle Raven. In Darcy's history, Uncle Raven was killed when she was a baby. Because of that, Yvette's scheme to murder Miranda in the first story succeeded, and Rabbit was never born. No one ever learned that Yvette was a murderer. Without her uncle pushing her, Darcy focused less on combat training, and spent more time on sorcery. Since she never lost her mother, her childhood was much happier.
Peter Raven's unrequited love for Rabbit's mother was a force of destruction. He loved Miranda and Rabbit to the end, and they both hated and feared him.
I Have No Voice and I Must Scream
A Backstory involving Bill the Deathclaw Relax Bill, just relax…
He was in his Followers of the Apocolyspe lab, a dingy place that he shared with his wife Monica. In front of him was various test tubes with chemicals and solutions in them. It had taken a long time to get to this stage in his research and if he messed up here he’d mess up years worth of research. Alright…now just pick up the first test tube and put it in the mix.
He picked up the first test tube, it was filled with a red chemical with an acrid smell. His hand wavered as he prepared to pour it into the mixing device. Careful….careful….
The red liquid poured easily into the mixing device. Bill sighed in relief as he put back the test tube and reached for the one filled with a green chemical that had a sickly sweet scent. Just gotta get this one in…
The chemical poured easily into the mixing device as well. Bill put back the test tube and placed the cap on the mixing device and turned it on. He wouldn’t need to worry about it for a couple more hours. He would use that time to go out and pick up the anniversary gift for Monica from Crow. He left his safety goggles on the hook and slipped on a coat, heading outside into the cold D.C. Ruins. Monica passed by him as she went inside the lab, giving him a quick hug. I love you Monica
Once he was a couple feet away from the laboratory there was an explosion behind him and he was thrown forward by the force. W-what’s going on!?!?!?
He turned slowly, horror on his face as he saw the lab going up in flames. No! Monica!
The lab had another explosion rip through it, and Bill covered his face with his arm as bits of the walls flew past him. There was no way Monica could have survived it. Bill knew that and he fell to his knees in shock. S-she’s gone…
(I'll start this here and finish it sometime tonight, maybe.)
Carrie
Spoiler
Carrie was born in what had been a smallish Scottish town circa 1900; this town was spontaneously swallowed into the Nexus about 75 years before Carrie's birth. These circumstances left the locals somewhat more succeptible to curses than the Nexus norm; accordingly, demonic spirits took advantage of this and seeded the people with a few hereditary curses, one of which cropped up in a little girl named Caroline.
This curse only became evident with the onset of puberty. Wings grew painfully from her back, and her hands became dry and cracked. Anyone her hands touched felt a burning pain in their flesh, and plants withered at her touch.
At first, they just had to deal with it. The wings were strange, but a few others' curses had caused odd physical changes. The hands had to be covered by gloves constantly; she had to learn to manage with that.
Orphanhood, however... that took longer to get used to.
Her vulture-like wings and dessiccating touch were the signs of a Blightwalker, one cursed to bear nature's bane in their touch and an aspect of a creature bound to death and famine---in her case, the wings of a bird born to feed on those who failed to survive.
Caroline didn't understand any of this, and nor did her family. The ones who understood were a group of druids... who promptly decided this girl was not to live if she were to be a risk to nature.
For good measure, they began by torching the village and its inhabitants.
The girl escaped and, only 13, ran for her life. Her Blightwalker status kept jer on the run for 4 years, scrounging and stealing to stay alive. She sometimes was able to get herself into schools, though only for a total of about 2 school years.
Eventually, she found herself on the run from having accidentally killed a dryad, and ended up the power source for an experimental energy weapon. Of course, it wasn't long before a druid named Ari came up from HALO to sort that out...
This will be much more elaborate when I have the time.
I Have No Voice and I Must Scream
A Backstory involving Bill the Deathclaw Relax Bill, just relax…
He was in his Followers of the Apocolyspe lab, a dingy place that he shared with his wife Monica. In front of him was various test tubes with chemicals and solutions in them. It had taken a long time to get to this stage in his research and if he messed up here he’d mess up years worth of research. Alright…now just pick up the first test tube and put it in the mix.
He picked up the first test tube, it was filled with a red chemical with an acrid smell. His hand wavered as he prepared to pour it into the mixing device. Careful….careful….
The red liquid poured easily into the mixing device. Bill sighed in relief as he put back the test tube and reached for the one filled with a green chemical that had a sickly sweet scent. Just gotta get this one in…
The chemical poured easily into the mixing device as well. Bill put back the test tube and placed the cap on the mixing device and turned it on. He wouldn’t need to worry about it for a couple more hours. He would use that time to go out and pick up the anniversary gift for Monica from Crow. He left his safety goggles on the hook and slipped on a coat, heading outside into the cold D.C. Ruins. Monica passed by him as she went inside the lab, giving him a quick hug. I love you Monica
Once he was a couple feet away from the laboratory there was an explosion behind him and he was thrown forward by the force. W-what’s going on!?!?!?
He turned slowly, horror on his face as he saw the lab going up in flames. No! Monica!
The lab had another explosion rip through it, and Bill covered his face with his arm as bits of the walls flew past him. There was no way Monica could have survived it. Bill knew that and he fell to his knees in shock. S-she’s gone…
Not bad, but sort of cliched. Still, nothing wrong with the classics, I suppose.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Beans
(I'll start this here and finish it sometime tonight, maybe.)
Carrie
Spoiler
Carrie was born in what had been a smallish Scottish town circa 1900; this town was spontaneously swallowed into the Nexus about 75 years before Carrie's birth. These circumstances left the locals somewhat more succeptible to curses than the Nexus norm; accordingly, demonic spirits took advantage of this and seeded the people with a few hereditary curses, one of which cropped up in a little girl named Caroline.
This curse only became evident with the onset of puberty. Wings grew painfully from her back, and her hands became dry and cracked.
This will be much more elaborate when I have the time.
Not much to say here yet, but I'm looking forward to seeing it continue.
And now, my own story. It tells the story of Sophie's Imbuing, when she became a Hunter and joined the fight against the things that go bump in the night.
Inherit the Earth, part One
Spoiler
A soggy, rainy evening in Châlons-sur-Marne, a small town in northeastern France. Sophie Mouchabiere pulled over next to a small, run-down house in the worst part of the town and stepped out of her car. She was a small-dark skinned woman wearing a dripping wet waterproof jacket with piercing blue eyes in her sharp face.
The reason she was there on the night that would sonn prove to be fateful was that she was a social worker, helping a woman recover from years of drug abuse, losing her husband and her children. She was never one to lose hope, and she had clung on to this woman after her colleagues had declared her a hopeless case... and it seemed like there was some progress being made after all. Antoniette appeared to be finally taking a grasp on her own life.
Sophie walked over to the door and knocked. There was no answer. That was worrying. Had Antoniette been doing drugs or cheap alcohol again and got so inebriated she didn't pay attention? Then she noticed that the door had opened slightly when she knocked. That was also worrying. In this part of the town, not locking your doors at night was begging to be robbed. After a moment's consideration, she stepped inside. Damn the consequences; she had to make sure Antoinette hadn't done something stupid after all the progress she had made.
The inside of the house was grubby and poor, but clean - Sophie had managed to talk Antoinette into regular cleaning up. It had a small corridor, a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom and a tiny bedroom. Sophie methodically checked each room, looking for any signs of anything suspicious. There was nothing. Finally, she entered the bedroom and froze.
She saw Antoinette - a woman in her mid-thirties, worn out by years of drug abuse, wearing a night gown, lying down in her bed. Right next to her was... something that looked like a man. It pressed its hands to her forehead and they glowed in faint white light - it seemed to be diminishing Antoinette with each second. Sophie stood there, terrified and paralyzed... and then the world begin to glow white until she couldn't see anything and she heard a voice, similar to her own:
YOU'RE HERE TO HELP. ONLY YOU CAN HELP.
She suddenly could see again, and the creature above Antoinette - which looked like an emaciated young man with pointed ears - stared at Sophie, as if amazed she could see it, but still draining the poor ex-junkie. Without thinking, she yelled:
"No! Stop!"
What happened next defied all expectations - the creature tore itself away from its victim as if forced to do so by Sophie's voice somehow. It looked at her with terror feeling its eyes and leapt through the open window into the night, whimpering and moaning. Sophie ran to the window, but could only see the thin figure disappear into an alley. She had no time to pursue - she had to make sure Antoinette was alright. As it turned out, she ran a bad fever and showed signs of malnourishment. Seeing everything as through a soft fog, she called the ambulance and when it arrived, she told them she'd found Antoinette sleeping and that she had apparently neglected herself badly, perhaps in a bout of serious depression. The doctors took her away without a word. Sophie went back home, almost causing an accident since she was only half concentrating on the road, and sat down on her bed, staring at the wall. What the hell had happened? Had she really seen some... some sort of elf draining life or - she didn't really know how she knew that - dreams from Antoinette? Or was she simply going insane and the elf was just a hallucination cooked up by her diseased mind when seeing Antoinette in a bad state? The latter was a much more likely explanation, especially with that voice. But then, how to explain the open window and the door? And she felt different. As if touched by something great... or maybe just different. Of coure, that might have been a symptom of her madness as well. She didn't even notice when she slipped into a nightmare-filled sleep. She had no idea that she had just stepped into a world she'd never suspect existed... and that her troubles had only just begun.
As some of you may notice, I retconned the "creature" Sophie saw into a dream-stealing Fae rather than a vampire. We haven't seen the last of him either.
__________________
My FFRP characters. Avatar by Kid Kris. Sigatars by Gulaghar, Kid Kris, Zefir and billtodamax, respectively.
The World is Crumbling, But There's Still Kindness
Spoiler
The Beginning of Bill's Backstory:
Bill stalked the lonely desert quarry in the Mohave. He wasn't as dumb as any other deathclaw, though his name wasn't even Bill at this point in his life...
In fact, it wasn't anything since a human came in recently and wiped out his whole family.
So he was all alone, so lonely that he was simply living until something came to kill him.
And he was so alone. So very...very...alone...
Yet it seemed like someone would grant his wish of death, as he spotted a woman on the horizon. He ran towards her, making it look like he'd murder her as she raised up a large box and clicked the trigger.
Suddenly, Bill found himself overcome with paralyzation.
The woman walked up calmly to him.
"I've seen you for a while around here, acting more sad then a deathclaw usually is...so I'm going to bring you to the Followers of the Apocalypse. The way you just ran out me showed you wanted death...so I'm going to give you a new life. Now follow me."
Overcome with the desire to, Bill followed...
TO BE CONTINUED.
So far it's looking like it'll be good! But, what's a deathclaw?
Marciano Louv're
Keep your wits about you....and you'll stand on top.
Spoiler
Marciano was born in Cylar. He was born to an incredibly poor family...He had two siblings, his sister, Ariele, and his brother, Bastion. Sadly, Ariele died of a deadly disease at the age of twelve. Marciano was the youngest and was usually a very good boy. He did his chores, cleaned the house every once in a while, and getting a less than average education from his mother. Marciano was always rather scrawny. Thin, and not too handsome either. He was a good boy. Soon, a thief in rags, merely a thug, killed his father and Bastion one night. Marciano was left only with a poor mother who's health was fading.
Marciano eventually was forced to become a petty thief. He did his best to keep his family alive until he could get a job. His mother died of hypothermia in the cold slums of Cylar...Marciano was utterly devastated. His whole family...destroyed. Killed off by disease and mugged by a thief. Marciano couldn't give up however. He had to feed himself.
Years ago, the first revolution of Cylar occurred. Marciano was drafted into the army. Marciano was no kind of warrior...He hid away on the battlefield. Armed with a pistol. He sneaked out of the imperial's makeshift bunker one night. He waited for a while. Soon the battle had resumed. Marciano crept down out of the cave he was hid up in. He scavenged the battlefield in the dark of night. He hunted for any sort of currency. He robbed corpses. Soon, he had gathered many a gold. He was moderately disgusted at what he'd done. He gathered a small amount of profit. Then he found the Imperial General. The General was wounded on the battlefield. Marciano was supposed to be on his side...Marciano slit the man's throat and stole the man's clothes, hat, and a very large diamond. Marciano soon bumped into Grantaire. Who was on the rebel side. Grantaire told Marciano that he just wanted to be alive. Marciano and Grantaire fled Cylar. They traveled for weeks, that came to months, that came to years. Three to be exact.
Then they found a magical item, robbed off of a priest of Pelor, who was on a pilgrimage. The pair of thieves were teleported into the Nexus. They needed to keep themselves alive. Soon they heard that Remnant had a bounty on a "Marty Aceford" Marciano was planning to kidnap him and retrieve the bounty. Then he was contacted by a mysterious man who wanted Marty dead. Marciano double crossed the mystery man and lied to the man that he killed Marty. He even had "proof". Marciano then made another half a million profit off of Marty's ransom. He managed to leave with a large fortune. He had to double cross one of NO's bounty hunters, Marty's friends, an employee of Sleeping Goblin, an insane wolf hybrid, and a pair of wizards. Yet he was unscathed and much, much richer. Now he heads to AMEN. He has a plan.
__________________
Something's different....
Magical Enshadu coat!
Spoiler
Spoiler
Spoiler
Last edited by The Mad Hatter : 03-02-2012 at 06:11 PM.
Shadows of memories - Almost an Annabelle backstory!
Spoiler
Annabelle lay in thought. She had often had time to think since re-animation, trapped in this hole underground that no light ever touched. She barely had memories of light anymore – only memories of memories. There was nothing in the tight space of this coffin save for darkness, and the distant muffled noises above. What was up there? How long had it been since she first lay dead?
Ever since death, the ghoul's memories had become... fractured. Gaps were missing that shouldn't be; holes that only seemed to become wider with time. So much of her history was gone. Who she was, what she did, who her friends were... how did she live? How did she die? The memories might never return, and those few things she remembered had become hazier the longer she spent locked away down here. Not even her own name could escape those all-consuming holes in her memory.
But sometimes, if she closed her eyes, memories did come. Strange memories. Solemn memories. Things she couldn't understand how she could remember. Lying in an open casket in the rain. Figures in robes standing near, speaking to one another as they encircled her. It seemed to blur, these strange figures standing over her, as if her mind had sped up the memories to cover the gaps. They would stare down at her for a time and glance at each other, words leaving their lips that hung back just beyond her recollection, and they would move on. But soon the memories would slow. A solitary figure would come long after the others had gone and lay a rose down with her. His form was not cloaked, though he seemed nothing but a shadow in her mind. He would lean down and close her eyes with a hand and whisper something – what was it? She could remember nothing but that quiet murmur before the feeling of the casket lowering and sending her into this dark place.
It had always felt sad. Not ominous, nor malicious... truly sad. It was one of the only memories she had left that was more than a shard of a greater memory, but without the whole it was nothing.
Nothing but the shadow of a memory.
She may be a bit of a goofy character, but she has some genuinely sad stuff in her backstory that will probably never come up without this thread. Hell, it probably won't even be established much more than this in-thread, this is just a nice excuse to write this.
Hopefully the almost-backstory thing is okay?
__________________
My FFRP Characters
Contact me on Skype! I do text chats on there, too! Name: overlordkay
The World is Crumbling, But There's Still Kindness
Poor Bill. His suicide-by-adventurer plan failed.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Beans
(I'll start this here and finish it sometime tonight, maybe.)
Carrie
This will be much more elaborate when I have the time.
Wait, Carrie voluntarily went to school? SHE'S A MONSTER!!!!!
Quote:
Originally Posted by Morty
And now, my own story. It tells the story of Sophie's Imbuing, when she became a Hunter and joined the fight against the things that go bump in the night.
Inherit the Earth, part One
As some of you may notice, I retconned the "creature" Sophie saw into a dream-stealing Fae rather than a vampire. We haven't seen the last of him either.
I like this. I hope we get to meet Sophie's fiancé. Why do I have the feeling she stands him up when one of her drug addict projects calls? And that she doesn't tell him about some of the parts of the city she goes to after dark?
Quote:
Originally Posted by singingnoodle
Marciano Louv're
Keep your wits about you....and you'll stand on top.
You have a lot of creativity, but I think you'd do better if you didn't reference Les Miserables with every character. Let your own voice be heard.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Darklord Bright
Shadows of memories - Almost an Annabelle backstory!
She may be a bit of a goofy character, but she has some genuinely sad stuff in her backstory that will probably never come up without this thread. Hell, it probably won't even be established much more than this in-thread, this is just a nice excuse to write this.
Hopefully the almost-backstory thing is okay?
Almost-backstory is definitely okay. I was hoping this thread would turn up stuff that wouldn't be shown otherwise.
I think this is the darkest story here. Buried "alive", mind-fracturing, memories of a loved one being torn away. It's hard to imagine her surviving all of that and staying cheerful. Please write more!
The World is Crumbling, But There's Still Kindness
First of all, fun use of the leg crippling dart gun from the game. but wasn't it a bit of a risk on her part to assume that just because Bill was wandering about, he was intelligent, and could understand her? Or that he wouldn't still attempt to maul her? Sorry, I'm being nitpicky.
Quote:
Originally Posted by singingnoodle
Marciano Louv're
Keep your wits about you....and you'll stand on top.
I agree with Happyturtle, (though i've never actually seen Les Mis, so I have no real clue how much you're actually cribbing.) When you go long form, I think you're quite good.
P.S. Deathclaws are essentially chameleons mutated by nuclear bombs into bipedal engines of DEATH!
Quote:
Originally Posted by Darklord Bright
Shadows of memories - Almost an Annabelle backstory!
Not a big deal, since most of us are going to be putting these things in by installments. Yours does get to me a bit, especially considering BURIED ALIVE is one of my biggest fears. You're also suggesting a lot of interesting things with the backstory I hope to see fleshed out.
Alright, so, my turn! The beginning of the backstory for my Skeletal minion character Sevet.
The Day I Was Born
Spoiler
Suddenly Consciousness! Anticlimactic? Maybe, but I challenge you to describe a sudden burst of self awareness as anything else. Most people can’t remember the first few years of their life, so they have no idea what it’s like to just POOF exist.
The world was an immediate overload of sensory information. My sight was entirely blinded by white and I was deafened by noise. Eventually it calmed down, and I was able to make out what was around me. I was in some sort of laboratory. A magician’s lab lit up by a river of magma flowing through the ceiling. I was standing up, leaning against a hard metal surface. Standing in front of me was an old man, bald, mutton chops, and a wrinkled old face full of boredom. As my first act, I reached out my hand, which I discover is skinless, to make contact with him. He proceeded to beat my hand away with a thick, hardcover book.
“Don’t you touch me, cretin!” he said, swinging at my head.
“Hey!” I yelled, covering my head in defense. “What did I even do?”
“You stuck out that filthy, cold, bony, hand. That’s what you did! Don’t think you can ever touch me, filth!”
“Wait! Wait.” I said as his blows stop. “Filth? I thought my name was Cretin.” That sent him into something of a swinging frenzy for a few seconds.
“Of all the stupid- To even- ARGGH!” When he gave up, he opened the book, and I saw him scroll down the page with his finger. “You are designated Number Seventeen. Janitorial duty.” He waved his hand and a mop flew from a corner in the room to his hand. “Here. You’ll find some robes outside the door. I put a rune of fire on you so I wouldn’t have to waste the effort to replace you if you fell in. I did not for the mop. Lose or destroy it and you will be punished severely. Understand?”
“Yes sir!” I said, taking the mop without thinking. I stood for a few seconds, waiting to see if he would continue speaking.
“What are you waiting for?!” he started screaming. “I have dozens of others to do today! Do you think I have all day to waste on you?! Get out and get to work!” He started swing his book at me, and I discovered just how quickly my new legs could move.
__________________
Pirate Justin avatar by myself. Emmi avatar by Gulaghar, Much Thanks!
No futher part of my story yet, so for now I'll just comment.
Quote:
Originally Posted by singingnoodle
Marciano Louv're
Keep your wits about you....and you'll stand on top.
Spoiler
Marciano was born in Cylar. He was born to an incredibly poor family...He had two siblings, his sister, Ariele, and his brother, Bastion. Sadly, Ariele died of a deadly disease at the age of twelve. Marciano was the youngest and was usually a very good boy. He did his chores, cleaned the house every once in a while, and getting a less than average education from his mother. Marciano was always rather scrawny. Thin, and not too handsome either. He was a good boy. Soon, a thief in rags, merely a thug, killed his father and Bastion one night. Marciano was left only with a poor mother who's health was fading.
Marciano eventually was forced to become a petty thief. He did his best to keep his family alive until he could get a job. His mother died of hypothermia in the cold slums of Cylar...Marciano was utterly devastated. His whole family...destroyed. Killed off by disease and mugged by a thief. Marciano couldn't give up however. He had to feed himself.
Years ago, the first revolution of Cylar occurred. Marciano was drafted into the army. Marciano was no kind of warrior...He hid away on the battlefield. Armed with a pistol. He sneaked out of the imperial's makeshift bunker one night. He waited for a while. Soon the battle had resumed. Marciano crept down out of the cave he was hid up in. He scavenged the battlefield in the dark of night. He hunted for any sort of currency. He robbed corpses. Soon, he had gathered many a gold. He was moderately disgusted at what he'd done. He gathered a small amount of profit. Then he found the Imperial General. The General was wounded on the battlefield. Marciano was supposed to be on his side...Marciano slit the man's throat and stole the man's clothes, hat, and a very large diamond. Marciano soon bumped into Grantaire. Who was on the rebel side. Grantaire told Marciano that he just wanted to be alive. Marciano and Grantaire fled Cylar. They traveled for weeks, that came to months, that came to years. Three to be exact.
Then they found a magical item, robbed off of a priest of Pelor, who was on a pilgrimage. The pair of thieves were teleported into the Nexus. They needed to keep themselves alive. Soon they heard that Remnant had a bounty on a "Marty Aceford" Marciano was planning to kidnap him and retrieve the bounty. Then he was contacted by a mysterious man who wanted Marty dead. Marciano double crossed the mystery man and lied to the man that he killed Marty. He even had "proof". Marciano then made another half a million profit off of Marty's ransom. He managed to leave with a large fortune. He had to double cross one of NO's bounty hunters, Marty's friends, an employee of Sleeping Goblin, an insane wolf hybrid, and a pair of wizards. Yet he was unscathed and much, much richer. Now he heads to AMEN. He has a plan.
I have to agree with Happy and Orchestra. Referneces are good, but oversaturation isn't.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Darklord Bright
Shadows of memories - Almost an Annabelle backstory!
Spoiler
Annabelle lay in thought. She had often had time to think since re-animation, trapped in this hole underground that no light ever touched. She barely had memories of light anymore – only memories of memories. There was nothing in the tight space of this coffin save for darkness, and the distant muffled noises above. What was up there? How long had it been since she first lay dead?
Ever since death, the ghoul's memories had become... fractured. Gaps were missing that shouldn't be; holes that only seemed to become wider with time. So much of her history was gone. Who she was, what she did, who her friends were... how did she live? How did she die? The memories might never return, and those few things she remembered had become hazier the longer she spent locked away down here. Not even her own name could escape those all-consuming holes in her memory.
But sometimes, if she closed her eyes, memories did come. Strange memories. Solemn memories. Things she couldn't understand how she could remember. Lying in an open casket in the rain. Figures in robes standing near, speaking to one another as they encircled her. It seemed to blur, these strange figures standing over her, as if her mind had sped up the memories to cover the gaps. They would stare down at her for a time and glance at each other, words leaving their lips that hung back just beyond her recollection, and they would move on. But soon the memories would slow. A solitary figure would come long after the others had gone and lay a rose down with her. His form was not cloaked, though he seemed nothing but a shadow in her mind. He would lean down and close her eyes with a hand and whisper something – what was it? She could remember nothing but that quiet murmur before the feeling of the casket lowering and sending her into this dark place.
It had always felt sad. Not ominous, nor malicious... truly sad. It was one of the only memories she had left that was more than a shard of a greater memory, but without the whole it was nothing.
Nothing but the shadow of a memory.
She may be a bit of a goofy character, but she has some genuinely sad stuff in her backstory that will probably never come up without this thread. Hell, it probably won't even be established much more than this in-thread, this is just a nice excuse to write this.
Hopefully the almost-backstory thing is okay?
I think it's good. Vagueness is effective for conveying the kind of fleeting, half-remembered sadness.
Quote:
Originally Posted by OrchestraHc
Alright, so, my turn! The beginning of the backstory for my Skeletal minion character Sevet.
The Day I Was Born
Spoiler
Suddenly Consciousness! Anticlimactic? Maybe, but I challenge you to describe a sudden burst of self awareness as anything else. Most people can’t remember the first few years of their life, so they have no idea what it’s like to just POOF exist.
The world was an immediate overload of sensory information. My sight was entirely blinded by white and I was deafened by noise. Eventually it calmed down, and I was able to make out what was around me. I was in some sort of laboratory. A magician’s lab lit up by a river of magma flowing through the ceiling. I was standing up, leaning against a hard metal surface. Standing in front of me was an old man, bald, mutton chops, and a wrinkled old face full of boredom. As my first act, I reached out my hand, which I discover is skinless, to make contact with him. He proceeded to beat my hand away with a thick, hardcover book.
“Don’t you touch me, cretin!” he said, swinging at my head.
“Hey!” I yelled, covering my head in defense. “What did I even do?”
“You stuck out that filthy, cold, bony, hand. That’s what you did! Don’t think you can ever touch me, filth!”
“Wait! Wait.” I said as his blows stop. “Filth? I thought my name was Cretin.” That sent him into something of a swinging frenzy for a few seconds.
“Of all the stupid- To even- ARGGH!” When he gave up, he opened the book, and I saw him scroll down the page with his finger. “You are designated Number Seventeen. Janitorial duty.” He waved his hand and a mop flew from a corner in the room to his hand. “Here. You’ll find some robes outside the door. I put a rune of fire on you so I wouldn’t have to waste the effort to replace you if you fell in. I did not for the mop. Lose or destroy it and you will be punished severely. Understand?”
“Yes sir!” I said, taking the mop without thinking. I stood for a few seconds, waiting to see if he would continue speaking.
“What are you waiting for?!” he started screaming. “I have dozens of others to do today! Do you think I have all day to waste on you?! Get out and get to work!” He started swing his book at me, and I discovered just how quickly my new legs could move.
Pretty funny, if that's what you were going for. Kind of Pratchettian in style. I like stories written from the perspective of minions.
Quote:
Originally Posted by happyturtle
I like this. I hope we get to meet Sophie's fiancé. Why do I have the feeling she stands him up when one of her drug addict projects calls? And that she doesn't tell him about some of the parts of the city she goes to after dark?
We'll definetly get to meet Sophie's fiancé. Not sure how deeply I want to go into the disintegration of their relationship, though. I'm not good at writing this kind of thing, as you know.
__________________
My FFRP characters. Avatar by Kid Kris. Sigatars by Gulaghar, Kid Kris, Zefir and billtodamax, respectively.
First of all, fun use of the leg crippling dart gun from the game. but wasn't it a bit of a risk on her part to assume that just because Bill was wandering about, he was intelligent, and could understand her? Or that he wouldn't still attempt to maul her? Sorry, I'm being nitpicky.
Actually, she didn't use the dart gun, she used the Mesmetron.
Which is a lot less risky then the dart gun and that's why she knew he wouldn't maul her.
Spoiler
And she was able to recognize grief on his face, which is absent from all the other deathclaw's faces which is why she took the chance, assuming that only intelligent creatures can show emotion.
And Orchestra, I liked your story, I found it funny.
And Darklord...I genuinely found your story to be sad...
Blah, I'm not good at commenting on stories at all >.<
As a de Vere, Elaine was blessed - or burdened - with all the advantages and expectations of wealth and nobility. She understood the importance of propriety and so it surprised her as much as anyone else when she began to turn out wild.
It started with her first ball, when she was sixteen. She didn't remember how it happened, but she found herself in a cloakroom with George Cavendish, behaving in a manner that was not at all appropriate and quite enjoyable. Similar events followed, and it always seemed that she didn't quite know how it happened.
The de Veres hushed things up as well as they could, but rumours still spread about their youngest daughter, and her wild streak. It was important that they get her married off as soon as they could, to a respectable man of good fortune and high rank. Elaine made no objection, as she desperately wanted to crush this wild part of her before it got her into trouble. A suitable man was found, negotiations entered into, the couple were introduced and seemed to get along well.
That's when Elaine disappeared for the first time. No expense was spared in searching for her. Her trail led about a mile from home, and then went cold. She was seen at Ford's, looking at gloves for the wedding. Mrs Ford had said that she seemed distant and confused, asking the same questions several times. Mrs Ford had gone to the back to bring out some different samples, and when she returned, Miss de Vere was gone. As far as anyone could tell, Mrs Ford was the last person on earth to see Elaine de Vere.
It was while Mrs Ford was in the back of her shop that Billie - though she had no name then - opened her eyes for the first time. She looked around at all the linens and haberdashery, the ribbons and worsted yarns, and the selection of gloves spread out on the counter. Her first conscious thought was that this was the most boring place imaginable, and that she needed to find some excitement.
So she did.
More than six months later, Elaine found herself again. She was lost in the streets, drenched with rain, frightened, and utterly confused. Something had happened. The wildness inside her had escaped and gotten her into worse trouble than ever. She knew that much, but that was all she knew. She stepped into the nearest shop, a watchmaker's, simply to get out of the rain, and met Henry Stevenson.
An hour later, she was sitting by his fireside, wearing dry clothes that belonged to his maid with a blanket around her shoulders, and sobbing out her troubles as she drank hot soup. A week later, they had eloped. A month later, she finally had the courage to tell her family, and was promptly disowned for the scandal she had brought on the de Vere name.
For many years, it was a popular subject of gossip, how the youngest de Vere daughter had run away from her engagement to elope with a tradesman. But what could you expect? The girl had always been quite wild.
Suddenly Consciousness! Anticlimactic? Maybe, but I challenge you to describe a sudden burst of self awareness as anything else. Most people can’t remember the first few years of their life, so they have no idea what it’s like to just POOF exist.
The world was an immediate overload of sensory information. My sight was entirely blinded by white and I was deafened by noise. Eventually it calmed down, and I was able to make out what was around me. I was in some sort of laboratory. A magician’s lab lit up by a river of magma flowing through the ceiling. I was standing up, leaning against a hard metal surface. Standing in front of me was an old man, bald, mutton chops, and a wrinkled old face full of boredom. As my first act, I reached out my hand, which I discover is skinless, to make contact with him. He proceeded to beat my hand away with a thick, hardcover book.
“Don’t you touch me, cretin!” he said, swinging at my head.
“Hey!” I yelled, covering my head in defense. “What did I even do?”
“You stuck out that filthy, cold, bony, hand. That’s what you did! Don’t think you can ever touch me, filth!”
“Wait! Wait.” I said as his blows stop. “Filth? I thought my name was Cretin.” That sent him into something of a swinging frenzy for a few seconds.
“Of all the stupid- To even- ARGGH!” When he gave up, he opened the book, and I saw him scroll down the page with his finger. “You are designated Number Seventeen. Janitorial duty.” He waved his hand and a mop flew from a corner in the room to his hand. “Here. You’ll find some robes outside the door. I put a rune of fire on you so I wouldn’t have to waste the effort to replace you if you fell in. I did not for the mop. Lose or destroy it and you will be punished severely. Understand?”
“Yes sir!” I said, taking the mop without thinking. I stood for a few seconds, waiting to see if he would continue speaking.
“What are you waiting for?!” he started screaming. “I have dozens of others to do today! Do you think I have all day to waste on you?! Get out and get to work!” He started swing his book at me, and I discovered just how quickly my new legs could move.
I liked it, thought it was pretty funny.
Quote:
Originally Posted by happyturtle
Elaine de Vere Stevenson Wild
Spoiler
As a de Vere, Elaine was blessed - or burdened - with all the advantages and expectations of wealth and nobility. She understood the importance of propriety and so it surprised her as much as anyone else when she began to turn out wild.
It started with her first ball, when she was sixteen. She didn't remember how it happened, but she found herself in a cloakroom with George Cavendish, behaving in a manner that was not at all appropriate and quite enjoyable. Similar events followed, and it always seemed that she didn't quite know how it happened.
The de Veres hushed things up as well as they could, but rumours still spread about their youngest daughter, and her wild streak. It was important that they get her married off as soon as they could, to a respectable man of good fortune and high rank. Elaine made no objection, as she desperately wanted to crush this wild part of her before it got her into trouble. A suitable man was found, negotiations entered into, the couple were introduced and seemed to get along well.
That's when Elaine disappeared for the first time. No expense was spared in searching for her. Her trail led about a mile from home, and then went cold. She was seen at Ford's, looking at gloves for the wedding. Mrs Ford had said that she seemed distant and confused, asking the same questions several times. Mrs Ford had gone to the back to bring out some different samples, and when she returned, Miss de Vere was gone. As far as anyone could tell, Mrs Ford was the last person on earth to see Elaine de Vere.
It was while Mrs Ford was in the back of her shop that Billie - though she had no name then - opened her eyes for the first time. She looked around at all the linens and haberdashery, the ribbons and worsted yarns, and the selection of gloves spread out on the counter. Her first conscious thought was that this was the most boring place imaginable, and that she needed to find some excitement.
So she did.
More than six months later, Elaine found herself again. She was lost in the streets, drenched with rain, frightened, and utterly confused. Something had happened. The wildness inside her had escaped and gotten her into worse trouble than ever. She knew that much, but that was all she knew. She stepped into the nearest shop, a watchmaker's, simply to get out of the rain, and met Henry Stevenson.
An hour later, she was sitting by his fireside, wearing dry clothes that belonged to his maid with a blanket around her shoulders, and sobbing out her troubles as she drank hot soup. A week later, they had eloped. A month later, she finally had the courage to tell her family, and was promptly disowned for the scandal she had brought on the de Vere name.
For many years, it was a popular subject of gossip, how the youngest de Vere daughter had run away from her engagement to elope with a tradesman. But what could you expect? The girl had always been quite wild.
I liked this too. I've been very interested in this character overall, and enjoyed this bit of insight.
So, I'm going to throw my hat into the proverbial ring. Please be merciless in your criticism.
Boris Krestyanov Just Another Day
Spoiler
As he fell onto the cold, hard, snow-covered ground, Boris pondered exactly how he'd gotten here. Was it just his serving in the Russo-Chinese War that earned him his medal and a recommendation into Spetsnaz? Sure as hell didn't feel like it. The bruises and cuts that he'd received since arriving in Siberia told him that he needed to have done a lot more before he deserved this position.
This training was brutal, to say the least. This fight ring was probably one of the better parts of it. Up until today, Boris had been poisoned, stabbed, exposed to tear gas, and had an arm and both his legs broken. And yet he persisted, because he knew that this was what he wanted out of life. He was going to become a Spetsnaz soldier, even if he died in the process. Perhaps this was the reason Boris staggered up, wiping at the mud, snow, and blood that caked his features. He glowered at his opponent in this fight, a man bigger, stronger, and faster than he was, in addition to being his trainer, Captain Degtyarev.
“You can quit any time, Krestyanov!” His opponent shouted. It was mostly an attempt to rile him up, but it was also honest. This was the eighth time Boris had been knocked down, and he was bleeding profusely from his eye and mouth. He was pretty sure that a few of his ribs were broken. It was something of a wonder that he hadn't blacked out yet. The spectators who had already fought had gone from cheering to a stunned silence. Boris ignored it all. The only things that were in his thoughts right now were his breathing, his heartbeat, and every bit of pain coursing through his body.
Sure, Boris had the option to quit. But was he going to? Of course not. No Russian worth his salt would dare quit. Still, when he raised his fists into a guarded position and took a few steps toward Degtyarev, all he got out of it was a bit of an eye roll from his opponent. Boris had been aggressive previously in the fight, but with his injuries, that strategy was a death wish now. Instead, he kept his distance, watching all of Degtyarev's moves.
Eventually, Degtyarev stepped forward and aimed another one of his devastating jabs at Boris's head. Somehow, Boris managed to duck that. To an even greater shock, he managed to score a hit on the Captain, a quick hook to the torso. It caused very little harm, of course. Though he wanted to believe that despite all the blood that's spilled out of him, he was at full strength, Boris knew that he had already lost this fight. All he could really throw now was the last few desperate punches of a half-dead man.
His last efforts were cut short, though. When he threw that last hook, he was unaware of his latest rookie mistake: he'd left his face unguarded. That became apparent when his good eye became the lucky winner of another punch from Degtyarev. Boris stepped back in pain, and any sympathy he might have received came in the form of a kick to his ribs. He fell to the ground, short of breath and in more pain than ever.
Still, he wasn't about to give up. Boris managed to turn himself over, and tried to push himself back up. This time, though, it didn't take. He just fell back down when he got on his knees.
As his senses began to take leave of him, he heard Degtyarev say, “Take him to the infirmary, and make sure he doesn't die.” Then there was nothing.
It was while Mrs Ford was in the back of her shop that Billie - though she had no name then - opened her eyes for the first time. She looked around at all the linens and haberdashery, the ribbons and worsted yarns, and the selection of gloves spread out on the counter. Her first conscious thought was that this was the most boring place imaginable, and that she needed to find some excitement.
So she did.
She walked for a while, some instinct drawing her out of the Victorian district. It was getting dark when the door of a nightclub opened, and dance music poured out.
She said I am the one who will dance on the floor in the round...
This was what she'd been looking for, and she brazenly headed in. The bouncer looked at her Victorian clothing, and almost stopped her, but something about the way she moved didn't fit with the clothing. He decided to let her in.
She told me her name was Billie Jean, as she caused a scene
She went straight for the dance floor, and moved with perfect freedom, as one who has no fear of herself. This confidence drew men to her, and she welcomed the attention. She accepted drinks, dances, even kisses and gropes.
"What's your name, sweetheart?" one of them asked.
She didn't have a name until then, but she didn't hesitate. "Billie Jean," she said with a cheeky grin. It was an obvious alias, lifted straight from the music. Everyone knew it, and nobody called her on it.
Then every head turned with eyes that dreamed of being the one
She had many propositions that night, and accepted the one from the man with the best hands. She left the next morning while he was still asleep, helping herself to some of his clothes and leaving behind Elaine's dress.
The next few weeks passed similarly - in and out of bars, in and out of beds - until she fell in love with a manipulative man who lured her into prostitution. By this time, she'd dropped the 'Jean' to simply go by Billie. Her pimp used every emotional trick in the book to tie her to him, and she did whatever he wanted of her.
Then one rainy night she came home without the money. She couldn't remember what had happened to it. Maybe she'd mislaid it. Maybe someone had stolen it. He got angry and hit her. She hit him back until he was dead.
When Billie saw what she had done, she fled in shame and terror into the pouring rain.
~Discontinuity~
It was daylight. There was a different man, holding her by the upper arms. "Who are you? What did you do with Elaine?"
Still fresh off the memory of murder, she only hurt Henry Stevenson enough to make him let her go. Until she had to hurt him some more to keep him from following. She was in another one of those stupid dresses, with a bag of some sort in her hand.
Billie stepped outside the door and found herself in a hotel, with a train station nearby. She was far from Inside now, but she didn't know it. She simply used some of the money in her reticule to buy a train ticket away from the man who wanted her to be someone else.
@ Rotting Baron, that was a fun short story. Very Russian, so to speak. And I like the description of the fight.
@ Happy, I'm liking it as well. The two stories tie themselves into each other neatly.
I'm still thinking about the second part of "Inhterit the Earth", because I'm not sure about its structure and what I should focus on - I'm thinking short snippets from Sophie's first steps as a Hunter, discovering the hidden world and her old life.
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My FFRP characters. Avatar by Kid Kris. Sigatars by Gulaghar, Kid Kris, Zefir and billtodamax, respectively.
Good work by all of you that have put forth backstory entries so far.
@Orch: Sevet's origin faintly intrigues me, and I hope to see up to how he escaped from his master and came to the Nexus eventually.
@Morty: Although the formatting was a bit odd at points, and there were a few errors here and there, I really like where this is going. I'm always in favor of seeing more of Sophie, since what has been hinted at so far has been great.
@Happy: Keep being you. Seriously, I can't even critique this stuff.
@All the rest: Woo, more stories! I'll be doing a pivotal moment from Julie's past here soon, and I hope to get just as much feedback as everyone else has so far.
This thread gives me strong urges to flush out Zel's backstory in more detail...
And I might do some for a couple of my other characters, as well.
Memories - Part 1
Spoiler
I sat on the cool ground, my back against the tall oak that had recently become my favorite spot for wasting time. I scanned the area around me, making sure nobody was around to bother me. I like my alone time.
Of course, with me sitting in the middle of a graveyard, there wouldn't be many people around. Obviously. However, I checked. Like I always do.
Satisfied, I let out a sigh. I fished into the pocket of my jacket and pulled out a small, round object I found on my way over. It was a compact. Some lady must have dropped it during a recent service. Things like funerals tend to distract people from lost items.
My curiosity winning control, I flipped the lid open. The little pad for applying the powder was gone. That was fine. I wasn't planning on using it anyways. I noticed the mirror had a crack running diagonally through it as well. Must have happened when it was dropped.
I stared at my reflection for a moment. I was still surprised by how much my appearance had changed since being here in Nexus. I mean, sure, I had been demon possessed and an Abyssal for at least a little while. But, still...I had over twenty years of having a certain look, and knowing it well. These changes would take some time for me to get used to.
I closed the compact with half a mind to toss it away. But, on a whim, I shoved it back in my pocket. Never know when a mirror might be handy. I let out a yawn, placed my hands behind my head, and closed my eyes, drifting into my usual nap...
I was seven when my parents died. I still have some memories of them left. Not many. I had my dad's grey hair and eyes, and my mom's face. We lived in in of the smaller neighborhoods of Rembress. Still within the city's wall, but nowhere near the downtown area. My dad worked as a barman, and my mom worked at a bakery. They made enough money for us to live off of, but not much more. Still, they seemed happy. I used to love it when my mom was late coming home from work, because that meant she had some goodies with her when she walked in the door.
I went to school like most kids my age. Did my chores, did my homework, created the occasional mess in the kitchen. Pretty normal life.
I still don't know the details surrounding their death. I mean, I was seven when it happened. I wasn't going to look into the facts. And with everything that's happened since...well, never really had the chance to look into it.
Oh, I have my suspicions. I was told they were victims of a mugging on their way home from work. At that time, I accepted that. Why wouldn't I? It made sense. We didn't exactly live in the safe part of town. Not that there really was a safe part.
Some years later, I started thinking on those events more. My parents didn't work at the same place. In fact, they hardly ever got home at the same time. I also remembered that the year it happened was the year that the government was really starting to put its hands on everything. People protested, of course. And people disappeared. I never found anything that could prove it, but I made my assumptions.
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Ivaz dressed as Bomb Queen done by myself.
Quotes and goodies:
Spoiler
Quote:
This isn't like the Loch Ness Monster or leprechauns. This is something I have to see to believe.
As he fell onto the cold, hard, snow-covered ground, Boris pondered exactly how he'd gotten here. Was it just his serving in the Russo-Chinese War that earned him his medal and a recommendation into Spetsnaz? Sure as hell didn't feel like it. The bruises and cuts that he'd received since arriving in Siberia told him that he needed to have done a lot more before he deserved this position.
This training was brutal, to say the least. This fight ring was probably one of the better parts of it. Up until today, Boris had been poisoned, stabbed, exposed to tear gas, and had an arm and both his legs broken. And yet he persisted, because he knew that this was what he wanted out of life. He was going to become a Spetsnaz soldier, even if he died in the process. Perhaps this was the reason Boris staggered up, wiping at the mud, snow, and blood that caked his features. He glowered at his opponent in this fight, a man bigger, stronger, and faster than he was, in addition to being his trainer, Captain Degtyarev.
“You can quit any time, Krestyanov!” His opponent shouted. It was mostly an attempt to rile him up, but it was also honest. This was the eighth time Boris had been knocked down, and he was bleeding profusely from his eye and mouth. He was pretty sure that a few of his ribs were broken. It was something of a wonder that he hadn't blacked out yet. The spectators who had already fought had gone from cheering to a stunned silence. Boris ignored it all. The only things that were in his thoughts right now were his breathing, his heartbeat, and every bit of pain coursing through his body.
Sure, Boris had the option to quit. But was he going to? Of course not. No Russian worth his salt would dare quit. Still, when he raised his fists into a guarded position and took a few steps toward Degtyarev, all he got out of it was a bit of an eye roll from his opponent. Boris had been aggressive previously in the fight, but with his injuries, that strategy was a death wish now. Instead, he kept his distance, watching all of Degtyarev's moves.
Eventually, Degtyarev stepped forward and aimed another one of his devastating jabs at Boris's head. Somehow, Boris managed to duck that. To an even greater shock, he managed to score a hit on the Captain, a quick hook to the torso. It caused very little harm, of course. Though he wanted to believe that despite all the blood that's spilled out of him, he was at full strength, Boris knew that he had already lost this fight. All he could really throw now was the last few desperate punches of a half-dead man.
His last efforts were cut short, though. When he threw that last hook, he was unaware of his latest rookie mistake: he'd left his face unguarded. That became apparent when his good eye became the lucky winner of another punch from Degtyarev. Boris stepped back in pain, and any sympathy he might have received came in the form of a kick to his ribs. He fell to the ground, short of breath and in more pain than ever.
Still, he wasn't about to give up. Boris managed to turn himself over, and tried to push himself back up. This time, though, it didn't take. He just fell back down when he got on his knees.
As his senses began to take leave of him, he heard Degtyarev say, “Take him to the infirmary, and make sure he doesn't die.” Then there was nothing.
This, more of this, please.
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"I can see inside you, the sickness is rising,
It seems that all that was good has died
Oh, no. The world is a scary place
Now that you've woken up the demon in me."
They were in a distant town, having been travelling on business, and were on their journey home when the transformation occurred.
"No... no..." The words were whispered, but Henry heard them, and was by her side immediately.
"What is it? Are you ill?"
His wife looked up at him with frightened eyes, and as he watched, they darkened from a brilliant ice blue to a brown that was almost black.
"Henry..."
If he hadn't seen it, he couldn't have believed. Her eyes had gone first, then her face reshaped itself, the delicate features growing coarser. Her raven hair turned an unnatural shade of red. He caught her forearms, and they felt thicker, more muscular.
Whatever this was, it wasn't a simple shapechange. He felt it in his gut. He felt the woman he loved slipping away.
"Who are you? What did you do with Elaine?" he demanded.
A few hours later, the cleaners found him on the floor of his hotel room and got him to a physician. By the time he was well enough to pursue the woman who had stolen his wife, the trail was cold.
Henry didn't give up on finding his wife, but eventually his funds ran low. He returned home to work, to make money, to hire investigators. He put up notices and offered a reward. He even swallowed his pride and went to the de Veres to ask for their help. They turned him away coldly. Whatever scandal Elaine had gotten herself into now, it was no longer any concern of theirs.
Two nights later, a carriage stopped outside the door of the watchmaker's shop. The woman who stepped out of it swept inside imperiously, and for a moment Henry just stared in shock. It was Elaine's grandmother, the Dowager Viscountess Isabella de Vere.
"Lady de Vere, to what do I owe the honour...?" he finally said.
She interrupted him before he could get any farther. "My foolish son thinks you were only after her fortune, but if that had been the case, you would have come for money sooner. I can see that you are an honest man, and that you are in love with her."
"Your Ladyship does me no more than justice. I love Elaine with my whole heart." His voice grew thick as he spoke her name. Still missing. Still a hole in his very existence.
"What I am about to tell you must not be spoken of to another soul. I will have your word before I continue."
He was at a loss as to what she might say, but what choice did he have? If she might speak anything that could help, he had to hear it. "I give you my word. I will speak of this to no one."
"Then close up your shop and help me to a chair, young man," she said, her haughty manner suddenly softened. He hurried to obey.
"What you must understand is that she will return to you. It may be tomorrow, it may be a twelvemonth, but the one that holds her will grow weaker, and Elaine will return."
"How..."
"I know because my husband, the late Viscount had the same curse," she said. "He taught me how to recognize the signs, how to lock him up before the change. The savage inside him was dreadful. Violent, but cunning. He tried many tricks to escape, until the one that finally worked. He had finally guessed what he was to me, why I kept him alive when I hated and feared him so. And so, he threatened to end his own life if I did not release him."
"I negotiated, because I knew my husband would wish it. Only myself and two trusted servants knew of the secret, and he wanted it to go no further. The savage agreed to stay far from the manor when he did anything that might invite scandal, and to keep enough money on his person to allow the Viscount to return home quickly once the transformation had reverted. I gave him funds to start with, and he was to write to me if he ever needed more."
Lady de Vere fell silent, trying to calm her breathing now that the secret was out.
"Your husband came back." Henry Stevenson finally said.
"Every time. We were married 53 years, and I bore him 8 children, 5 of whom still live. He died two years ago, and two years ago, Elaine began to show signs of... impropriety."
"You knew this was happening to her?"
She shook her head. "Not at the time. I had no reason to believe the curse belonged to anyone but the late Viscount, and girls of good birth have scandalized their families since time began. She ran away from her marriage, eloped with a tradesman who was after her money, and was promptly disowned. This was what we all believed, until you told your story. This is what everyone believes still."
"Except for you."
"Indeed. Both of the trusted servants were allowed to retire, with generous yearly sums paid, contingent on their silence. After you left, I went to see the one still living - a man of about ninety. I told him of your visit, and he admitted that there used to be rumours of a de Vere family curse. When he was a child, a great-uncle of my husband was subject to fits and frequent disappearances. When questioned closely, he thought perhaps that uncle died about the time that my husband began to show signs of savagery, though he could not say for certain. I think it is a family curse, and I believe that when the holder of the curse dies, it moves on to someone else."
There was a long silence here, as both parties dwelt on the implications.
Finally Henry said, "What do I tell her?"
"You tell her nothing!" Lady de Vere said with sudden anger. "You gave your word! I will not have my late husband's name scandalized by letting these rumours come to light again!"
"I do not understand. If you did not come here to help Elaine, then why tell me anything?" Henry asks helplessly.
"I did not come to help Elaine, at least not directly. I came to help you. Her knowing that her grandfather shared her curse does not help her in any way, but you knowing..." Lady de Vere sighed heavily. "The breach between her and her parents is too wide and too public to be healed. I do not want her rejected by the family she has left."
Four months later, Elaine returned, fearing her marriage was over. Henry soon put those fears to rest. He promised that he would always wait for her, always trust her, always believe in her fidelity, so long as she promised to always come home to him. He told her of the transformation he had witnessed, so that she would understand what happened in the missing parts of her life, but he kept his word to Lady de Vere. He never told Elaine about her grandfather.
Henry's word was his bond, and something he took very seriously. It was a heavy thought to know that one day he must tell his son, to warn him, in case he was the next one chosen by the curse. But so long as Elaine lived, he believed there was no urgency. It never occurred to him that the curse did not pass on at death, as Lady de Vere had conjectured, but was carried in the blood, and that Jake could be afflicted while his mother was still alive.
About twenty years after learning the secret, as Henry Stevenson lay dying of fever, he wrote to Lady de Vere and begged her to accept Elaine back into the family. In his last moments, he tried to give his son a warning, but he was growing delirious by then, and could not make himself understood.
Lady de Vere was able to use the death of Henry Stevenson as a plausible excuse to convince the family to forgive the prodigal daughter and welcome her back into the family for her son's sake. The thrust of her argument was that it was not fit that a young man of their blood, with good sense and impeccable manners, should be denied the benefits of education and advantages that he was entitled to by birth - and she carried her point. Elaine would have refused the offered olive branch had she considered only herself, but for the sake of her son, she returned to the family home. Jacob was well-liked and became a favourite of his great-grandmother, who seemed to lavish on him all of the attention and care that had accrued during the years of his mother's estrangement from the family.
When Lady de Vere died a few years later, all knowledge of the family secret died with her.
When she woke up next morning, Sophie hoped she would feel normal and the events of the previous night would turn out to be simply products of her imagination. It was, however, not so. She felt different. More alert, more aware, as though her previous life had been spent wrapped in wool. During the next weeks, she saw things that froze her blood. Every once in a while, she'd spot a person, seemingly no different than those around him or her, but something would be off about them. She would concentrate and see them for what they truly were.
A man in the street after dark who was, she was sure of it, a walking corpse.
A short woman, who under her new sight turned out to be surrounded with a tangible aura of reality-warping power.
A family of reclusive people in rural clothing whose features were bestial and there was a predatory glint in their eyes.
A man who was trailed by a shade in the form of a horribly mutiliated child, attached to him by a spectral chain.
Slowly, the idea that she might not be going insane dawned on Sophie. But she wished she was. Otherwise, she was forced to accept that monsters walked among humanity, hidden from everyone's sight. But if they did, why did she suddenly see them? What was going on?
Sophie was never the one to run away from her problems. Something had to be done. Those things should not be allowed free reign with the ignorant masses. But what could she do? And how? Nonetheless, she had to do something before her thin veil of sanity broke and her family, friends and fiance discovered she was going crazy. Her only hope was that there were others like her out there, others who knew the same thing she did. Of course, she had no way to contact them... except she felt that she did. For some reason, she remembered a series of symbols and knew their meanings. She had never seen such symbols in her life, so she was forced to believe they entered their head during the fateful night in Antoinette's home. Growing desperate, she took a can of paint and, making sure noone saw her, painted two symbols which she meand "Chosen" - a cross with a dot at each end and in the middle - and "Help" - a circle inside a cross, again with a dot on each end - on a wall near her house. Tomorrow, she found an address and an hour scrawled there...
The next day, after work, she found that address, arriving at the designated hour. It was a small building in the suburbs, with a well-kept garden. There was a piece of paper stuck to the mailbox... with the "Chosen" symbol written on it. Sophie, on her part, had made a small plaque with that symbol and pinned it to her jacket. As she stood in front of the entrance, she struggled with herself again. Was it all real? Or was it some sort of... mass brainwashing experiment or something? Only one way to find out, she decided. She couldn't go on not knowing. She took a deep breath, crossed the lawn and knocked on the door. A thin, balding and neatly dressed man opened the door, took a look at her, spotted the symbol on her jacket and ushered her in without a word. As he shut the door, she started to say: What- but he just shook his head and led her deeper into the house, into a small room with covered windows. Becoming more nervous with each moment, Sophie took a seat at a chair while her informant seated himself in front of her.
"Let me guess," he began, "you have no idea what happened to you, what's going on and why you're seeing monsters. You think you're going crazy and you drew those symbols in hope someone out there would recognize them."
"Yes," Sophie said after a moment of silence. "That about sums it up. I came here in hope of getting some answers."
"If it's answers you're looking for, I have precious little in that regard," the man said with a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Let me tell you what I do know. We're both Hunters, also known as Imbued... it seems that for a while now, people all over the world have been awakened to the real face of our world by some mysterious presence commonly called Messengers or Heralds. It seems they want us to do something about the monsters hiding in the midst of humanity. That's... about all we know."
Sophie sat there for a moment in stunned silence, thoughts racing around in her head. It... it explained everything, but... how could it be true?
"How do you know all this?" She asked in a somewhat harsher tone than she had intended. The man seemed to pay no heed to her tone, however.
"I was awakened a few months ago, just like you were. I work in a bank, and one day, a man tried to use magic to withdraw money from someone else's account... I put a stop to it together with a security guard and a passer-by who were also Imbued at the same time... it was easier for us, since there were three of us together. We managed to find other Hunters... and the Hunter-Net, of course."
"Hunter-Net?" Sophie asked, absent-mindedly.
"It's a message board for our kind. Ran by an American fellow going by the name of Witness1... he was one of the first to be Imbued and he heard the words "Inherit the Earth", so they say. Do you speak English?" He asked abruptly.
"I manage", Sophie responded in a distant voice.
"Good. Most of the Hunter-Net is in English, because most users are American. There are some channels in other languages, though. A lot of it is drivel and pointless bickering... I mean, it is the Internet", the Hunter said somewhat glumly. "But it's invaluable for us."
"I see..." Sophie said, still staring off into the distance. "And those symbols?"
"It seems every Hunter knows them... and only we. They're quite invaluable, since they allow us to communicate without the monsters knowing."
"Ah, yes. The monsters. Have you had any encounters with them?"
The other Hunter looked at a clock on the wall. "I'd really love to explain more, but we're running short on time. My wife will be back soon, and she's already suspicious of my... activities. I'll contact you later. We might need help rooting out a demon that has possessed a local school."
And that was that. Sophie returned home, her head swirling with thoughts, doubts and sheer befuddlement. Still, she felt better. She knew something now, as unbelievable as it was, and she had direction. The voice had asked her to help... so she would help, as she always had. Only now she had a whole new world she had to help...
Later that evening, as Sophie was preparing for sleep, her phone rang.
"Yes?" She asked tiredly.
"Sophie, it's Dominic. I've been trying to reach you all day", her fiancé's voice said on the other side of the line. Where have you been?
"Hi Dominic. I... I had to run an emergency. One of our projects started cutting himself again..." Sophie answered, thinking quickly to make up an excuse. Dominic sighed.
"Again? They're running you ragged, you know. You can't drive around the town dealing with everything. Don't they have anyone else to do that?" Her fiancé's tone was irritaded. They'd had this discussion several times before.
"I know Dominic, I know... but there wasn't anyone else available and he's a hard case. Look... we'll talk tomorrow, okay?" It hurt her to lie to him, but there was no other option. Little did she know she'd have to lie to him more and more in the coming months.
"Okay, goodnight. I love you."
"I love you too. Goodnight." With that, he hung up. Sophie sat staring at the wall for a while more, then slipped into bed and fell hard asleep. It was one of the last times for a while she'd get a good night's sleep.
Well, that's that. A second part of Sophie's story. I'm not entirely satisfied with it for a variety of reasons, but there you have it.
__________________
My FFRP characters. Avatar by Kid Kris. Sigatars by Gulaghar, Kid Kris, Zefir and billtodamax, respectively.
My sister is so stupid. It's like she forgot everything bad that happened! She never looks where she's going, or worries about bad people, and she's always dreaming of adventure and excitement. She wants to be a Wolfen instead of a halfling, not so she can be stronger and defend herself from bad guys, but so that she can go on hunts and get in fights with dangerous animals. Or dangerous people. Did you forget those, Lily? Remember how they locked us up? Remember how they locked the Wolfen up? Excitement is bad, you stupid little kid.
The grownups say things to me like, "Don't worry, Tito, everything will be okay. We promise." I hate it when they lie to me. Maybe Lily believes them when they make those promises, but I don't. Those aren't promises, they're wishes. They hope everything will be okay, but they don't know it will. Even I know that, and I'm only 8.
Now Dad and Waterstrider are gone away to do something dangerous. I don't know what, but they were both very serious when they left, even though they hugged us and said they'd be back soon. Oh, and everything would be okay. Except Mom and Renetta don't believe that, or they wouldn't be worrying so much. I'm not stupid, Mom. I see how you look in the distance and say prayers with your lips while you rub your wedding ring. Except it's not your real wedding ring, is it Mom? You and Dad had to get new ones because slavers pulled the old ones right off your fingers, and said swear words because they weren't made of gold. And everyone was crying and Dad said, "I have money. Don't hurt my family!" They took all the money and they hurt us. Did you think I forgot? Just because Lily did? I'm not stupid.
I remember how it felt when I didn't know the world was dangerous, and I believed everything grownups said. Sometimes I wish it could be that way again, but then I don't, because it would hurt all over again when I found out it was a lie.
That's what's going to happen to Lily, the next time something bad happens. I wish she would listen when I try to tell her. I guess maybe 7 year olds aren't old enough to remember important things. I'll try again when she turns 8. I don't want her to be stupid.
This thread gives me strong urges to flush out Zel's backstory in more detail...
And I might do some for a couple of my other characters, as well.
Memories - Part 1
Spoiler
I sat on the cool ground, my back against the tall oak that had recently become my favorite spot for wasting time. I scanned the area around me, making sure nobody was around to bother me. I like my alone time.
Of course, with me sitting in the middle of a graveyard, there wouldn't be many people around. Obviously. However, I checked. Like I always do.
Satisfied, I let out a sigh. I fished into the pocket of my jacket and pulled out a small, round object I found on my way over. It was a compact. Some lady must have dropped it during a recent service. Things like funerals tend to distract people from lost items.
My curiosity winning control, I flipped the lid open. The little pad for applying the powder was gone. That was fine. I wasn't planning on using it anyways. I noticed the mirror had a crack running diagonally through it as well. Must have happened when it was dropped.
I stared at my reflection for a moment. I was still surprised by how much my appearance had changed since being here in Nexus. I mean, sure, I had been demon possessed and an Abyssal for at least a little while. But, still...I had over twenty years of having a certain look, and knowing it well. These changes would take some time for me to get used to.
I closed the compact with half a mind to toss it away. But, on a whim, I shoved it back in my pocket. Never know when a mirror might be handy. I let out a yawn, placed my hands behind my head, and closed my eyes, drifting into my usual nap...
I was seven when my parents died. I still have some memories of them left. Not many. I had my dad's grey hair and eyes, and my mom's face. We lived in in of the smaller neighborhoods of Rembress. Still within the city's wall, but nowhere near the downtown area. My dad worked as a barman, and my mom worked at a bakery. They made enough money for us to live off of, but not much more. Still, they seemed happy. I used to love it when my mom was late coming home from work, because that meant she had some goodies with her when she walked in the door.
I went to school like most kids my age. Did my chores, did my homework, created the occasional mess in the kitchen. Pretty normal life.
I still don't know the details surrounding their death. I mean, I was seven when it happened. I wasn't going to look into the facts. And with everything that's happened since...well, never really had the chance to look into it.
Oh, I have my suspicions. I was told they were victims of a mugging on their way home from work. At that time, I accepted that. Why wouldn't I? It made sense. We didn't exactly live in the safe part of town. Not that there really was a safe part.
Some years later, I started thinking on those events more. My parents didn't work at the same place. In fact, they hardly ever got home at the same time. I also remembered that the year it happened was the year that the government was really starting to put its hands on everything. People protested, of course. And people disappeared. I never found anything that could prove it, but I made my assumptions.
I just realized noone had commented on it, and I thought: I need to fix that.
It was obviously just the beginning of the story, but it's shaping up nicely. Backstories from the first person perspective are somewhat different than usual.
Quote:
Originally Posted by happyturtle
Tito Applehill Stupid
Spoiler
My sister is so stupid. It's like she forgot everything bad that happened! She never looks where she's going, or worries about bad people, and she's always dreaming of adventure and excitement. She wants to be a Wolfen instead of a halfling, not so she can be stronger and defend herself from bad guys, but so that she can go on hunts and get in fights with dangerous animals. Or dangerous people. Did you forget those, Lily? Remember how they locked us up? Remember how they locked the Wolfen up? Excitement is bad, you stupid little kid.
The grownups say things to me like, "Don't worry, Tito, everything will be okay. We promise." I hate it when they lie to me. Maybe Lily believes them when they make those promises, but I don't. Those aren't promises, they're wishes. They hope everything will be okay, but they don't know it will. Even I know that, and I'm only 8.
Now Dad and Waterstrider are gone away to do something dangerous. I don't know what, but they were both very serious when they left, even though they hugged us and said they'd be back soon. Oh, and everything would be okay. Except Mom and Renetta don't believe that, or they wouldn't be worrying so much. I'm not stupid, Mom. I see how you look in the distance and say prayers with your lips while you rub your wedding ring. Except it's not your real wedding ring, is it Mom? You and Dad had to get new ones because slavers pulled the old ones right off your fingers, and said swear words because they weren't made of gold. And everyone was crying and Dad said, "I have money. Don't hurt my family!" They took all the money and they hurt us. Did you think I forgot? Just because Lily did? I'm not stupid.
I remember how it felt when I didn't know the world was dangerous, and I believed everything grownups said. Sometimes I wish it could be that way again, but then I don't, because it would hurt all over again when I found out it was a lie.
That's what's going to happen to Lily, the next time something bad happens. I wish she would listen when I try to tell her. I guess maybe 7 year olds aren't old enough not to be stupid. I'll try again when she turns 8. I don't want her to be stupid.
It's... disturbing, I'll say that much. A look through the eyes of a child whose world was shaken up in a way that shouldn't happen to anyone, much less at this age.
__________________
My FFRP characters. Avatar by Kid Kris. Sigatars by Gulaghar, Kid Kris, Zefir and billtodamax, respectively.
Alright, so, my turn! The beginning of the backstory for my Skeletal minion character Sevet.
The Day I Was Born
Spoiler
<*snip*>
Love it! POOF! Existence!
Quote:
Originally Posted by Rotting Baron
Boris Krestyanov Just Another Day
Spoiler
<*snip*>
*agrees with Magtok*
Quote:
Originally Posted by KerfuffleMach2
Memories - Part 1
Spoiler
<*snip*>
Cliffhanger! Keep going...
Quote:
Originally Posted by Morty
Inherit the Earth, part Two
Spoiler
<*snip*>
Well, that's that. A second part of Sophie's story. I'm not entirely satisfied with it for a variety of reasons, but there you have it.
I suspect you aren't satisfied because it's the exposition phase of the story. If this was a movie, you'd be seeing a quick montage of Sophie seeing what others can't, looking confused and distraught, the symbols overlaying themselves in her mind - it'd be very easy to tell in visual form. In words, it's more cumbersome. Maybe when you get back to action scenes, you'll feel happier with it.
My sister is so stupid. It's like she forgot everything bad that happened! She never looks where she's going, or worries about bad people, and she's always dreaming of adventure and excitement. She wants to be a Wolfen instead of a halfling, not so she can be stronger and defend herself from bad guys, but so that she can go on hunts and get in fights with dangerous animals. Or dangerous people. Did you forget those, Lily? Remember how they locked us up? Remember how they locked the Wolfen up? Excitement is bad, you stupid little kid.
The grownups say things to me like, "Don't worry, Tito, everything will be okay. We promise." I hate it when they lie to me. Maybe Lily believes them when they make those promises, but I don't. Those aren't promises, they're wishes. They hope everything will be okay, but they don't know it will. Even I know that, and I'm only 8.
Now Dad and Waterstrider are gone away to do something dangerous. I don't know what, but they were both very serious when they left, even though they hugged us and said they'd be back soon. Oh, and everything would be okay. Except Mom and Renetta don't believe that, or they wouldn't be worrying so much. I'm not stupid, Mom. I see how you look in the distance and say prayers with your lips while you rub your wedding ring. Except it's not your real wedding ring, is it Mom? You and Dad had to get new ones because slavers pulled the old ones right off your fingers, and said swear words because they weren't made of gold. And everyone was crying and Dad said, "I have money. Don't hurt my family!" They took all the money and they hurt us. Did you think I forgot? Just because Lily did? I'm not stupid.
I remember how it felt when I didn't know the world was dangerous, and I believed everything grownups said. Sometimes I wish it could be that way again, but then I don't, because it would hurt all over again when I found out it was a lie.
That's what's going to happen to Lily, the next time something bad happens. I wish she would listen when I try to tell her. I guess maybe 7 year olds aren't old enough not to be stupid. I'll try again when she turns 8. I don't want her to be stupid.
I like it. Tito shows some maturity, but is overstepping it into paranoia. An interesting thing to write/read about, certainly.
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Okay, I seriously have to get cracking and writing Julie's story, but so many new stories have been added since the last time I checked, it's time for another round of feedback.
@Kerfuffle: Great lead in for this. I had to check the title after I was finished reading to make sure it was a part 1, and not just a teaser, because I'm seriously looking forward to more.
@RB: I'm glad to get a look into Boris, since he hasn't been on screen much in the places I frequent. It seemed very in line with the stories of Spetsnaz training I've heard, so I'm glad you've stuck to tradition here.
@Happy: Tito's reaction fits in well with his onscreen character so far, although it reveals hints of something he doesn't get to show around the camp in GLoG.
@Overall: I'm enjoying the peeks into these character's motivations that this gives us. Really looking forward to more reading and reviewing when I have the time.
Harnel Mithar ni'Therishein Dinner Invitation, Part 1
Spoiler
Harnel sat staring at the roof, leaning back in the chair. Slumping even. The day was going slowly, and there was only so much drawing to be done beforehand. Harnel had already sketched everything visible outside the window, and the wyvern that had attacked them last week, rendered being struck down by Tarn's fireball.
Kail, Tomwise, and Tarn were out doing research on a target, of course, but Harnel couldn't take part. Considering how bad it was here, he'd had to stay cloaked and covered during his entire entrance to the city, so he couldn't join them in gathering information without revealing himself for the half-dragon he was. He understood the necessity, certainly, but it was still annoying to deal with. He'd much rather be doing something in a forge. There's only so much waiting a person can do before their minds start devolving into goo, and he was closely feeling that approach as the lethargy took hold. What would he look like as goo? maybe he'd become a gelatinous cube? He chuckles at the thought of a half-dragon gelatinous cube.
Gods, he'd had enough. He pulled the cloak off the back of the door before draping himself in it, and pulling up a short mask. Tarn had said he was working on something that would let Harnel hide what he was, appearing instead as a full human, but it wasn't ready yet. And so, the cloak was the best option as he left the room of the inn, heading down to the first floor.
It was your average commons room, filled with the weight of dark smoke from the tabac being used. The place was know as the Dark Mug because of the stone mugs that were here; a nearby dwarven settlement carved them straight out of the black granite before selling them, and it was unusual to see such things in a human dominated area. It also kept them from breaking in bar brawls, for the most part, one of which was going on in one of the corners between a dwarf with half his beard burnt off and a grinning young man in a robe.
"I'll have some orcish kragg," Harnel said to the barkeep, who just grunted in response before placing one of the signature mugs onto the table and filling it with this vaguely yellow opaque liquid. There might have even been some hair in it, leading Harnel to conclude that it was made authentic orcish style.
He was only half way through the foul stuff when a woman walked into the inn. She bore herself with grace and poise, and her white skin and hair drew the eye, even halting the beatdown of the robed man in the corner as the dwarf glanced over. Briefly, anyways. She had pink eyes which scanned the room questioningly before settling on Harnel. What did she want with him? She walked up to him, her voluptuous form shifting sensually as she moved; she was obviously moving in just that way to catch eyes.
"Harnel, right?" she said, her voice light and lilting, close to a perfect singing voice, "I'd like to invite you to dinner with me. You can leave a note for your friends."
"I don't know how close I'd call them to being friends," Harnel said, remembering the prank Tarn had pulled on the group that morning. Kail had spent an hour getting the eggs out of her hair, though Harnel had been lucky enough to be spared most of the issue, "but who are you? How do you know my name?"
"My Mentor knows you, and what you are. Divinations are hard to deny, after all." Magic. Harnel didn't like dealing with enemy mages, of course, but this woman seemed nice enough.
"Alright, I'll come. What can I expect?"
"Just bring some nice clothes, and I'll talk to you there," and with that, she moved out the door, leaving Harnel to brood over his kragg.
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The day after Willow graduated from high school, she took her boyfriend Arthur for a drive in her graduation present - a brand new SUV. The destination didn't matter. The point was to go somewhere away, until they could move into the backseat and make out.
Fooling around with Arthur was one of the best things ever, but it was also one of the scariest. When she was with him, she had the uneasy feeling that she was not In Control. Willow didn't like it when she wasn't the one in control, but if she was with Arthur, there was an overwhelming impulse to ignore that little nagging voice of worry. Because Arthur was smoking hawt, that was why. Because when he looked at her that way or used that voice, she was putty in his hands and she knew it. And he knew it too. She was pretty sure of that. And that scared the crap out of her.
Arthur's mother was a succubus, and he'd inherited a lot of her abilities. She knew that's why he had such a hold over her, and why she ought to run far, far away. But she hadn't fallen for him because of his smouldering eyes or his scorching kisses. She'd fallen for the geeky, distracted intern at her dad's lab who understood her when she talked science and treated her like a fellow scientist. She'd never met another boy whose eyes didn't glaze over in boredom when she discussed the finer points of neurochemistry or protein folding. The fact that he just happened to have kisses to swoon for was simply a rather nice perq.
And there was this: Whatever power Arthur had over her, he didn't use it. Heaven knows he'd had opportunities enough - times when they had been making out for what seemed like hours until she came up for air. She'd look into his eyes and feel completely mesmerized. At those moments, Arthur was the one who was In Control, and he could have done anything he wanted to her. Not just going all the way (which they still hadn't done!), but anything depraved or sadistic or terrifying that she couldn't even fully imagine, but knew she'd go along with in a heartbeat if Arthur wanted it.
Instead, all he'd do was pause, take a few deep breaths, and then - back off a bit. It hurt her feelings when it first started happening, but when she looked at it logically - when Arthur wasn't around to distract her - she understood. He was afraid of his power too. He didn't want her dancing on his puppet strings. He wanted her to be with him of her free will. But when he kissed her like that, she had no free will.
Which is why two high school graduates, with plenty of mutual desire and ample opportunity, were still virgins.
Willow was really going to have to do something about Magic one of these days. It just screwed up everything.
((Approval to use Arthur given. Thanks, blackouttwo!))
The Stench is in my Clothes, in my Mind, and in my Heart
Spoiler
The stench is in my clothes
Rotting corpses lined the field for a long time around. Filing the craters left from their artillery. From THEIR hate!
It has filled my mind
They were my friends...same class...filled with a fervor to protect the Fatherland...
It's filled my heart
Sergeant Alan Miller scanned the horizon with his rifle from the trench. His men were dead, the enemy was dead.
But the ENEMY still came.
It was like every time he put one down, another sprang up to take its place.
He was beginning to wish that his men were still alive...
And that he didn't have to kill them again.
Private John Wallseye was being a particularly hard one to find.
And it INFURIATED HIM.*
BANG!
Got one.
He held the grimy pair of binoculars up to his eyes and gazed out to see who he shot.
And he saw the twisted, rotting face of Private Mitchell Black, bleeding black pus from a bullet hole in his head.
The stench is in my clothes
Alan pulled the bolt back on his rifle, letting the empty shell fall to the ground as the new one was chambered.
It has filled my mind
He lifted the rifle back up, letting the scope become level with his eye.
It has filled my heart
He watched as Private John Wallseye shambled over and began feasting on the flesh of Private Mitchell Black. He let his head fill his sights.
BANG!
Got one.
Encouraged by the backstory that Happy did for Salixtra, I decided to do one for Alan.
Also: I enjoyed everyone's stories very much. They're such wonderful looks into your character's lifes!
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I was hoping this thread would turn up stuff that wouldn't be shown otherwise.
