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 Posted: Sat Aug 27, 2011 10:48 pm
Ja'tel Desai by Jatel o What is your character's deepest fear?If you were to ask of Ja’tel Desai, “What is your greatest fear, sir?” He would look at you from beneath his black headdress with a sly, thoughtful grin, and he would either keep his silence, or would say, “Why inquirer, never do I fear.” But of course the rogue would be lying as to save his appearance as a brave ne’er-do-well, who does as the sands guide him without a second thought. But deep within his heart, to commit to those he may fail brings him endless agony. Always has he run away from responsibility when dealing with those he loved. It was not until a stroke of loneliness, and a new grown sense of pride, did he face such insecurity. But all that now remains is the haunting thought of failure. “Now that people depend on me, can I shoulder this weight alone?” He asks. He answers not, but tucks it away, and acts upon impulse, and will. Such things will be decided by god, and may he be merciful. o What is your character's greatest regret?Regret is a word that Ja’tel casts to the wind. Though when alone and with drink, it comes to him again like a long lost lover. The questions it speaks to him, and the silence and guilt with which he answers, they will last his lifetime. “Was it your headstrong ways, or your blatant ignorance of your father’s warnings that caused you to break the encampment’s perimeter when you were a boy?” Says regret. The young Ja’tel, thirteen, was oblivious that he was being followed home by spies. “Do you still mourn those captured and put to death after the battle to save the tribe? Including your brother in law?” He would retreat into his drink further. “Your eldest sister, she never really forgave you, did she? Is that why she is so disapproving of your nephew’s love and idolization of you?” Still silent. “They were forced to relocate after their homes were destroyed and the attackers were driven off by your father…what was it he said to you last? ‘You bring me great shame?’” Nearly enough to cause him tears, the emotion here, but he quickly recalled that he was punished, perhaps by god, and was lost in a sandstorm during the relocation. Lost for 8 years. Alone. And with all his energy, he pushes these thoughts away, making them slumbering demons within his heart. o What is your character's biggest unrealized dream/goal?If ever there were a driving force, or reason for Ja’tel to live, it would be his dream. He sings of it, he strives for it, and he breaks any law that would deny him of attaining it. Freedom. Not just for him, but for his people cast into the desert to die, in chains in the mines of Anorah, and wandering the cities in quest for comfort. He wanders the night praying for it. He kills for it, breaks into fortresses for it, and will evade death to achieve it. The Jewel King, aloft in comfort brought on by slaves hears of his deeds against his crown and so calls him the ‘Demon of Anorah’ for he moves as shadows move, and sabotages the trade routes, kills guards, frees workers, and stirs in the people the love of something they are denied, with song. He is a nuisance, and as uncatchable as the winds. All, exactly as he wills. o What is your character's place in society?Ja’tel, in the eyes of the king’s society is during the day, a vagrant and shady man; nothing more than a thief, attempting to be honest by earning his gold in the marketplace with a guitar and his voice. An outlaw. To the vagabond musicians and performers he works with, he is a friend and an ally, who appears seemingly during particular phases of the moon, such is his random nature. He surrenders all gold he earns to the families here, and departs again with a smile and his instrument. To the monks, he is pitiful. To the honest shopkeepers, he is a bother; to the dishonest, he is a savior with impossible to attain goods. And at night, he is what those in employ of the king fear. He is a slaver’s certain death, and a myth amongst the drunken locals. To his tribe, he is a mystery, long thought to be dead and astounding in his bravery. Finally, after a long absence, he is the son their leader had prayed for, and yet…there is a darkness about his ways. A vengeful lust for the blood of those who would dare harm his people. To the desert herself, in silent, mystic warmth, Ja’tel knows he is most at home with her. And it is here he can find comfort and love unexplainable, which he returns and his heart is set afire with pride of his origins. For the desert knows her true prince. o What is your character's moral standard?Should Ja’tel speak of his morals, it would seem increasingly conflicted. This is because he himself is most at confusion. He knows only that he has one goal to work towards in his lifetime, and it must be accomplished. He is secretly religious, and to no extreme degree, for he feels he has no place to do so as a sinner (almost as if it were too late for him). He believes it is his divine goal to free the people of his tribe, and it should be a personal one to honor those who would love him. But as he casts many serious emotions away, he ends up acting the opposite, and hurting those dear to him. For him simply, right and wrong are usually perceptions and nothing more. Though his superstitious side believes that should he be doing something the way he is not meant to, bad luck will follow him, and he must detect what is incorrect and fix it/ free himself from it to be successful once more. Otherwise, he lets the monks worry about morals and right from wrong. o What is your character's greatest triumphIt was not until a trip into the capital city that Ja’tel realized his greatest triumph. Upon a wall in a marketplace square were royal posts; included was a list of fugitives wanted by the king. It was the third spot which was occupied by his name, though not entirely. It read only ‘Demon of Anorah’ and gave a brief description of his approximate height, clothing, and crimes. And he was filled with pride. Not a single thing under this list of crimes did he dispute, save for one. He was framed for the murder of the queen, but he had committed no such crime. The queen was not his enemy, and had sympathized with his people in the past. True, he was present when the guards happened upon her, but he was trying to bring her comfort, and she was already mortally wounded when he found her. As for why he was there, was a different story. And under the list of people who died at his hand all were slavetraders and bounty hunters. His rank as third meant he successfully angered the king and made him aware of his presence with various acts against him. Second most wanted was a leader of another outlaw tribe, and first named was his father, which was most acceptable. He was known. It was all he needed. o How does your character view themselves?The self; A most puzzling subject to Ja’tel. He felt he was a man of contradictions, for he meant well, and believed his cause was just, though he fought for it most literally. However, the more he thought about it, the more he was at comfort with himself. But things changed. The thievery, murder and sabotage did not bother him. It was after his release from his imprisonment when he became first disturbed, for he realized that he had become vengeful in his actions. In his soul he was haunted. “Is this something I should feel?” He questioned himself when never before had it been an issue. To see the eyes of a man restored to freedom, the thankfulness and the humility, it was worth more gold in all of Naleris, but it was no longer enough. More and more he lusted for the blood of the king, for revenge for his murdered people, for his torture. “What kind of man are you?” He would ask himself. And still he would have no answer. “Are you worthy to be loved by your family when your harbor such thoughts? Are you fit to lead this tribe after your father?” His answer had always been to not answer; to run, to act, to distract himself from the truth. Had he lost who he had been in that prison cell? He would ask himself again after battle with the king. But the moment never came, and still he fights to grip upon his identity.
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Posted: Sat Aug 27, 2011 10:54 pm
Pahkakino by Ensia  Growling in annoyance, Pahkakino snapped his teeth at the seemingly human creatures that had begun pulling the thoughts and feelings from his heart. True, he was telepathic, and often looked into the minds of others, but it was never so invasive! Skies of Abyss, he’d even let others into his mind, and Kyerlusen often snuck in when not invited, but this… Growling at the questions he was being forced to answer, the red demon kept his wings close to his shoulders, ready to defend himself against a physical attack. “You still cling to your old life.” The voice was cold and seemed to send ice into his bones. “Explain. There must have been something of that life that keeps you from sacrificing it.” Pahkakino snarled, “Everything I love was formed in my first life. My mate; my children, traitors to me though they were.” “Yes, we see that. What was your position that they turned on you? Were you a leader of a nation?” Pahkakino stood tall. “I was the patriarch of my clan. My territory was large and I defended it well. There is no unity in Abyss beyond that of a few clans banded together with fear. Because of my alignment I am a betrayer to the demon race. But, death comes to those who trust others too readily.” His white eyes narrowed at the phantoms in anger. The scent of strange magic, death, and decay began to waft into Pahkakino’s nose, and with it, images seemed to play before his eyes. “You speak of this alignment of yours as though it means something. Explain it.” A harsh growl rippled up the demon’s throat. “It is my code of conduct. It is the belief that has governed my life for nearly sixteen-thousand years. I will not kill when innocent people or myself are not in danger. I don’t eat my enemies, as is common practice for my kind. I am capable of and happily choose to, love others more than myself.” Pahkakino felt himself calm as he spoke of his alignment. “More than that, there was also the physical change that took place. Demons of Abyss cannot have a white mark on them. My eyes,” he tapped the corner of one eye, “ are the outwards showing of an inward change, commitment.” Prudence, and a strong will to resist the invasive magic kept him from mentioning, or even thinking of his heart changing from the right side of his chest to the left. “Hmm, this is not looking to be beneficially for us…” the voice seemed put out, and Pahkakino could almost feel the frost forming on his skin, “You seem to think yourself rather noble, for being a betrayer of your race.” “How I view myself is dependant on my actions. My alignment, my conscience, the guilt or remorse I feel for my actions, changes the way I think of or view myself. For the most part, I think I do well. I am honest, compassionate, and try to treat others kindly. I think I am basically a good person, and feel best when I am serving or loving another.” He thought of his mate, his dear, golden, Virotekatima. Pain shot through his heart, making him flinch and bring his wings close in defense. Whether or not the pain was an emotion or physical, Pahkakino couldn’t quite tell. “Surely you have regrets though. Actions or things that sully that bright view of yourself; something we can use?” Another voice posed this question, this one sounding rather irritated. The ruby demon tried to straighten, looking at the shadowy figures, “Of course I have regrets. Foremost among them being my own weakness; I could not protect she whom I loved best, and many of my children have also suffered for it. A number of my strongest children turned against us, killing my mate, myself, and my seventh child.” Tears came to his lily eyes as he thought of Thrandwe’s final cry. But as his memories danced before him, Pahkakino thought of another cry, another face. “Ah yes. Your fear. You hide it well, demon. But nevertheless, it is there.” A cruel laugh echoed in Pahkakino’s mind. “All I fear, is that Kyerlusen will make my mistakes, and trust too readily those who are not worthy of it.” He snapped, pushing away the nagging thought that he would never escape this ridiculous plane. “My…deepest fear though,” He continued quietly, “is that I will never see my love again.” Taking a deep breath, Pahkakino pushed the useless emotion away, “Before you mock my love for Virotekatima, I will tell you this. I will not release in death the female I loved at first sight, and dedicated two hundred years to courting! She has born all forty-nine of my children, and if I am remembered for nothing else, it will be the dedication I showed to and for her. Most demons would have dropped dead at Virote’s rejection, but I would not give up. I overcame her pride, and in the end, she too, learned to truly love me in return. The white mark adorned her perfect wings; great, sweeping, snowy marks among the golden flesh.” Her memory revived his strength, and he pushed back against the intrusion into his mind. The phantoms hissed as they watched his memories play out. “I accomplished everything I sought in life. When I died, there was but one dream unfulfilled.” Pahkakino’s voice turned thoughtful. The images he conjured for the interrogators to see made the creatures fall silent. Tiny demon children playing around his feet, adult demons, many of whom bore a resemblance to the ruby demon, watching proudly nearby; Virotekatima sitting at his side, her face glowing with pride and happiness. “Can you see it?” Pahkakino asked, “When one does not hunger for power, or prestige, or blood, what else can fill that void? Give that one soul a purpose?” The demon smiled, “Family, grand-children. Beyond finding my mate, if I could watch one more dream come true, it would be to hold my grand-children.” He finished softly. “Useless! Pointless! We have wasted our time!” the cold voices were like stabs of ice in his gut, but Pahkakino was beyond caring about them. He watched as the images of his fantasy played before his white eyes. He watched, until they had faded away, along with the phantoms that had brought them from his mind.
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Posted: Sat Aug 27, 2011 10:55 pm
Sayde East by i-kuaizi Hello! Here's my entry for round 1. The parts relevant to the questionnaire are underlined. ^^ Sorry if the replies are so short -.-" I was focusing too much on story writing and development...if you need me to change, I can do that. ^^  Sayde awoke to yet another grey morning in the Worldspanner's Inn. She groaned as she tried to get her bearings. Waking up has been more and more difficult ever since her descension to the plane. If she were dead, it must mean that her body is no longer a part of her, right? And without a solid body, all the mind's thoughts and senses become harder to keep together and float all over the place. And during sleep, when the mind isn't subconscioualy keeping everything together, they diffuse and more time needs to be spent after waking up for the body to start fully functioning again. Downstairs, Sayde felt something amiss. Nothing was broken, no one was dead. Mordilberd was still at his default post behind the counter, sorting through bottles of wine. Everything was as normal as normal could be in this strange new world, but something felt wrong. Then it hit her – there was no one there. Almost no one, except for a few dazed and pale looking souls sitting in a corner. Probably people who overindulged in ale and beer the previous night. Other than that, the usual crowd was gone. Looking up, Mordilberd noticed Sayde standing by the staircase. “Oh yes, you were the Outsider who arrived a few days ago. Everyone's gone to the questioning.” Sayde was confused. “What questioning?” The innkeeper shrugged. “No one's sure. But all the Outsiders are supposed to be going for the questioning. S'what the Senate says. Looking for the 'perfect Outsider', as they call it. Anyway, you'd better get going. The order's been given. You might find some of the quesitoners outside.” “Right.” But Sayde has no intention of going. The Senate can go looking for their 'perfect Outsider' for all they want, but she has no interest in the politics of this world. She has more important things to do. Outside, another surprise awaited. The usually bustling morning crowds of the Plaza have myteriously vanished. Even the merchant's tents and stalls were mostly vacated. Everyone, apparently, has gone for the questioning. But what about the others? The Celestials, the Unliving? They're not part of the questioning, so why is no one there? No time for that now. There is work to be done. However, Sayde only went so much as a few paces before an invisibly barrier stopped her in her tracks. “Where do you think you are going?” Sayde spun on her heels, to come face to face with a tall stranger. He wore a uniform, as dark as his raven black hair, which Sayde recognised as that of the Unliving guards. If the Senate had given the order to interrogate every Outsider under Serendipitian sky, then this man must be a questioner. “None of your business.” “Oh, I think it is. Something tells me that you have not been under questioning. And that,” he drew the sword from it's sheath, pointing the wicked blade inches away from Sayde's nose, “is against the Law.” Sayde leapt back into a crouching position, knees bent and eyes fixitated on her opponent. To give up without a fight would be an absolute disgrace to her name. The Unliving scowled, amber eyes flickering. “I have orders not to kill anyone. However, if you continue to resist, I have permission to put you under custody.” He grabbed her arm, but she twisted herself free. At once, the atmosphere changed. A wind began to brew, sending the colourful tents flapping, and water from the fountain spraying in all directions. “Go to hell,” she spat, and sent a bolt of magic through his chest. The Unliving's eyes bulged as all the air left his lungs, torn out of his body by Sayde's spell. He gagged for a while as he tried to regain his composure. “You will regret that,” he hissed, and cast a spell of his own. Sayde should have recognised the curse, recognised the black rune formed out of his magic, encircling his outstretched hand, should have averted her eyes. But there was something fascinating, something captivating within its endless darkness, and soon she was falling, falling... Tell me your deepest fears...Get lost, her conscious mind said, throwing him off guard for a while. To never be able to fly again, said the part of her mind which was under his control. An image of Sayde falling down an endless crevasse flashed in her mind. So the girl could fly. Something she hadn't done since her arrival at Serendipity. Just as well, for if she had flown, the Sky Guards would have shot her down, and her greatest fear would have come true. Intrigued, the guard plunged deeper into her mind, into her past, flipping through her memories. As a child, running around a grand palace, ignoring the beseeches of maids and servants. At a local festival, disguised as a commoner, conquering the children's footrace, winning over all the other boys. Of raiding her father's, the king's, bedroom, and reading his diary with horror. The reason she grew up as a boy, the reason for the death of all the girls before her. Of escaping the palace, of running away when she could have fought back, a regret which plagued her to this day. Of becoming a thief, a prince even outside the palace, among thieves. Joining the revolution, losing her life, unable to fulfill her ultimate goal of destroying the twisted king.
This was a brave girl. A loyal, honest, independent Outsider. She could be a suitable candidate for the Senate's voice, but her headstrong personality could prove to be a liability, and due to her constant notion of not being good enough, her already vast amount of magic power could get out of hand. Not to mention her stubbornness and impatience. It was just so annoying.Something caught his eye. A memory from the time she worked as a farmhand, when she first ran away from the castle. The scenery looked familiar somehow. Upon realization, his blood turned cold. The snow caps of the mountains have thinned somehow, and the paddy fields weren't always there. But there was no doubt about it. This place was... The Sayde in her memory turned around, and made a rude gesture. Haven't you seen enough yet?Then he was stumbling back, the familiar feeling of suffocation as Sayde cast the spell once more. They were both panting, Sayde with rage at having her memories invaded, and he with shock at this new discovery. “You were from Iruwerth.” Shock appeared in her olive green eyes. A minute later, recognition registered in her mind. “You are the Archmage of Esteian.” “Were,” he nodded grimly. “Before the stupid witch had me killed.” They regarded each other for a moment, appreciating fortune for allowing them to find something from home. He bowed his head, with a fist over his heart. Traditional way of indicating respect in the land of Iruwerth. Sayde copied his action, acknowledging him as an equal. Unliving and Outsider. A historic moment. “Everyone thought you'd disappeared.” “I died.” He regarded her in new light. “I have heard rumors of a runaway prince. But I never thought it would be a girl. Your mother was a brave and smart woman to have come up with something like this to keep you alive.” “Thanks,” Sayde nodded. Then she looked around. “Is there any way to get back?” “Supposedly, there is. But no one knows how. However, whilst you are here, won't you at least consider a position as the Senate's voice?” “My priority is to get back. A war is going on in our homeland, Vihart.” “This is important,” he urged. “While you are here, you are considered an Outsider. You are now one of us. If chosen, your voice will not only represent our cause, but that of the Grand Unity.” Sayde considered this for a moment. The Archmage had a point. These people, though from different lands, were still people. If she could do something about it, even a little, then it would be completely against her nature not to. “Alright. I suppose you're right.” “On the condition you are selected, you will swear to do your best?” “You have my oath.” “Good,” Vihart smiled. Stubborn as she may be, this girl lacked no logical thinking. “I will not be around all the time. However, I shall be here to help in any way I could.” He looked up at the sky, where the sun was now high up. He should be going. “You would make a fine king.” “Thank you. And you are a great socerer. Alive or dead.” Vihart smiled a last time. Turning around, he walked and disappeared into a black smoke. (1482 words)
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Posted: Sat Aug 27, 2011 10:56 pm
Robin Cherie Banks by Madoneko The first thing Robin remembered thinking when she awoke was that Heaven was a lot busier than she had expected it to be. Catching herself mid-thought, she realized just how ridiculous that sounded. Of course it was going to be busy, full of people and wait- was that a winged lizard? She rubbed her head, eyes squeezed tightly together as she tried to gather her wits on a small marble bench near a glittering fountain in the heart of what looked like Heaven’s town center.
Opting to focus on what she did know rather than what she didn’t (for surely at this point it would be a very long list-- was that man floating?) she began a mental list.
One, she knew she was dead.
She paused, feeling the sun warm the hairs on the back of her neck, smelling some sweet exotic fruits a couple stands away from her, hearing light banter between the two women beside her, and took a step back. She was dead, wasn’t she?
Robin remembered the jolts of power as they surged through her veins and boiled her blood and shuddered slightly. She certainly remembered dying.
So this meant one of two things; one, this was Heaven. Her society didn’t put much stock in religion anymore, but she had read the bible and found it enchanting. Perhaps this was Heaven… but then why did she feel so alive?
Or it could always be the second option; her mother could’ve successfully brought her back at a regeneration facility and hooked her up to an alternate reality feed. That would make perfect sense if she wasn’t so sure that the people who programmed these feeds didn’t lack the creativity to imagine up something like—
She was tapped on the shoulder and so she lifted her head to come face to face with a gorgeous young man with clear white eyes and wings.
--him.
“May I sit?” He asked politely.
Robin nodded quickly and hurriedly made room for the stranger. “Of course.” She hadn’t realized she had been keeping the whole bench to herself.
He smiled a quick thanks, sitting beside her. “I saw you arrive.”
“Ah—yes.” She said and chuckled lightly. “And you don’t seem surprised at all. Do people often appear out of thin air here?”
She saw his thin smile falter. It was a mere twitch, but it made her more wary of him that she had been before. His forced politeness meant one thing for sure; he didn’t really like her kind (which she attributed to some racial differences), but he was curious.
“Yes.” He considered her carefully before continuing. “Here in Serendipity, we often see Outsiders like you find their way here, purely by dumb luck.”
She took in his words thoughtfully. “Serendipity?” She considered the significance behind the name and suddenly where she was made sense. She had stumbled onto this plane on her way to whatever afterlife awaited her purely thanks to luck.
“Yes.” He answered again. “Many of us are born here; therefore we are ever curious about Outsiders like you.” He paused, as if considering something deeply, before saying hesitantly. “Will you join me for tea?”
And no matter how wary she was of him, he had said the magic word, and she was dying for a good brew. “I would love to.”
A tea house had been within walking distance and when they arrived Robin was overpowered by the assortment of teas. There were collections of tea from all over, some she recognized from her own world, but most exotic and strange. She settled with a traditional cup of earl grey tea with milk and allowed the stranger to guide her to a table beside the window.
“I would like to know about you.” He started after a couple moments of uncertainty. “With times as they are, it seems like it is a curiosity that needs to be sated soon.”
He didn’t elaborate and she didn’t pry. She sipped her tea delicately before answering. “I have never had the opportunity to share myself with another,” She said honestly. “And would be happy to tell you—ah, I’m sorry, I never did get your name.”
“Ezekias.” He said, eying her intently.
“Ah, I'm Robin.” She smiled warmly in hopes to disarm him. “Well then Ezekias, ask away.”
“Thanks.” He shone a weak smile, beginning to lower his guard, before getting to business. “How do you see yourself?”
Robin took a couple moments to mull over his question in her mind before setting down her tea cup. “I know who I am, and for that I’m blessed. I know that I have a certain… je ne sais quoi that puts people at ease. I feel most comfortable when I am conversing, or even in the company of another being. I have a certain view of life that allows me to weigh everything justly so, and wisdom that allows me to forgive and find peace. I admit when I was younger I often despised myself, despised my inability to put figures together as everyone so easily did. But the one thing I hated most about my… disability…was that it prevented me from being close with anyone. But now I know,” She looked out the window beside her and sighed. “It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was simply how the circumstances clicked together. And while I know I’m not perfect, I’m happy with whom I’ve become. And I’ve found peace with myself. When I was alive I was so frustrated with what happened, with how my life was, I fought. I fought and I lost my life. But here, there’s no numbers, and I’m so free. Something about that is liberating.”
The young celestial contemplated her answer while nodding, before moving on. “What are you most afraid of? What do you most regret? What was your greatest triumph?”
Robin chuckled. “Well, after death there’s nothing much scarier, and I’ve conquered that fear. But deeply, I am most afraid of myself. I can lie to myself perfectly, and that’s scary. Because after that- what’s real anymore? I am in charge of how I feel, and when I feel sad, that is terrifying, because there’s nothing I can do to control it. Sometimes the tears will come and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. When I’m depressed I’m my own worst enemy.” She took a long sip of tea before continuing. “As for regrets, I find those too scary to contemplate. If I pick out one thing I regret, the rest will follow, and that’s a risk I can’t take. And triumphs, well,” She laughed. “My life was a living triumph. Just being alive was, is, enough.”
Ezekias smiled honestly. “What was your biggest dream for when you were alive then?”
Robin smiled back, grateful for his understanding, and then let herself slip back into deep thought, sipping what was left of her tea, wishing there was more. “I wanted to change people’s lives. I wanted to show the people of my generation what they were missing when they were curled up in their numbers. I wanted to change the way my world saw each other… but… I never managed to even have the tech smarts to be able to connect with my family, let alone speak to the rest of the world.” She sighed wistfully. “I was getting better at it, but never good enough to connect with anyone. I would’ve loved the chance to reach out, but it never came.”
“What’s your morality like?” He asked, setting down his empty cup.
She set her now (unfortunately) empty cup down too, looking out the window. “It’s simple. I don’t place fault on people for what they do. I believe that everything happens for a reason, by chance, by circumstance. I believe that kindness and compassion go a long way, and no one’s life should ever be ripped away because of something they did. Everything happens, as you can see, thanks to pure luck-- a collision of events and beings and everything else. Everything that is was created on accident, so we have to do our best to forgive what didn’t turn out quite perfect.”
The celestial found himself more curious about her, but realized he still had one question left to ask. “Before you came here, what was your place in society?”
Robin shrugged. “I had no say in where I was, but race didn’t matter on my world, only money and power. And my family was rich and powerful. So you could say I was at the top, but it didn’t really matter to me.”
The celestial nodded, hoping it still didn’t and let his gaze wander out the window. He would report back to headquarters soon with his findings, but first, perhaps—
“Thank you for the tea, by the way.”
He smiled. “Care for another cup?”
—headquarters could wait.
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Posted: Sat Aug 27, 2011 10:57 pm
Kyle Hawthorne by ecopper12 Testing? Now who ever heard of a thing like that in purgatory. I was led to a room that looked and sounded an awful lot like a classroom, what with people goofing off and an authoritative figure trying to settle them down. Though, since we're dead, I guess rough-housing is about the most viable option of fun. I sat down in an empty seat which was hard enough to find in all the commotion. People around me were throwing paper balls and making so much noise I thought I was back in High School. I believe it was about then that the “teacher” took out a megaphone and yelled some threats to specific people, and the room quieted down. A paper was passed around, and pencils were given to each individual. I glanced down at the paper and had to wonder what in the world they needed this info for. Regardless, I picked up the pencil and started to write. The first question was easy. What was my deepest fear? Well, when I was alive, I was always afraid of being buried alive. I guess now that I'm probably buried now, it don't make no difference anymore. I remember my father had a run-in with a few thugs, and they put him in a box and dumped it into a ditch. He died a few days after, due to lack of air. I'd always been afraid of that fate ever since. The next question took some time to answer. It wasn't that hard, but I had to compose myself enough to be able to answer it. What was my greatest regret... I sat there, trying to form the words in my noggin. I knew what I wanted to say, but I didn't know how to say it. After a while, I just wrote, “Not asking my girlfriend to marry me.” Of course, I was going to the day I was shot, but that don't make much difference. It's still something I wanted to do, but didn't get the chance. As the questions went on they got more and more confusing. My biggest unrealized dream? That would be having a normal family. My place in society? I guess I'd be called a common citizen. I didn't know what these had to do what anything, but I kept on answering. I was on the last three questions, and a quick look around the room showed that I was about the only one. My moral standard? Well, I guess if I saw a little old lady looking to cross the street, I'd help her. If I saw someone being held at gunpoint...I don't know. I mean, the bank tellers didn't get no help from me. So, I guess I wouldn't do much if danger was apparent. I felt like a coward, but at least I can say the same for most people. The second to last question asked me about my greatest triumph. I thought for a long while before answering with a simple, “N/A”. See, I wasn't a special kid. I never got to do anything big with science. I never had a huge spiritual breakthrough. Hell, I'm not even sure I learned how to tie my shoe the right way. I just coasted through life on nothing but food, water, and sleep. I really had no accomplishments that were worth making a big fuss about. Finally, the last question. How do I view myself? Well, I guess I could just say I'm nothing special. I never did anything worthwhile, so I'm not gonna label myself as great. If anything, I'd say I'm normal. Well, I guess I'm done. So, I got up, handed the paper in, and left the room. Well, what now?
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Posted: Sat Aug 27, 2011 11:03 pm
Ereshkigal Valdis by Queen Citrius “Now, miss...” “Ereshkigal.” “Ereshkigal, I promise this won’t take too long, I just want to ask you some questions.” “Why?” “Why? To get to know you! You seem like an...interesting girl, and we would like to get to know you better!” Ereshkigal raised an eyebrow. To say the situation was odd would be an understatement, in fact, to say it was an understatement was an understatement. After wriggling her way out of her own dimension and finding herself in this new place, she had been taken to a small, windowless room and sat at a table opposite a man who wanted to “get to know her better”. The whole thing seemed off to the young assassin- after all, no one wanted to get to know her. “Now, let’s start with something easy. What is your deepest fear?” If that was their definition of something easy, then Ereshkigal was worried. Her fears were not something she liked to think about, but then again who did? Ereshkigal’s fear was simple, she feared being unknown. She had spent her whole life hiding behind personas and alternate identities. No one outside her family had ever known the real her, and she felt like it would stay that way forever. Even her party, the people she currently felt closest too, only knew her as Elysia, and she feared telling them otherwise would lose their trust. Her life, accomplishments, everything would be attributed to Elysia, and no one would ever know Ereshkigal Valdis. But she wasn’t about to tell all this to a stranger. “Lightning.” “Lightning...” the man looked at her expectantly, but she simply nodded her head. With a sigh, he scribbled something in his notebook that seemed considerably longer than “Lightning.” “What would you say your greatest regret is?” “Hah!” Ereshkigal’s sudden, nervous outburst surprised even her, and she took a moment to regain her composure. “Well, umm, one of the other inquisitors hadn’t been seen for a few days, so the boss asked us to pay him a visit and make sure he was alright. So we get to his house and it seems too...quiet? We look around anyway, and in the celler we find this lady with a knife in her chest, and the inquisitor is also dead, but he’s less important. So we take both bodies back to the boss, and he’s all like “Oh no! This is Sanguine, she’s the Mistress of the Minerva clan!” and he asks us to please get rid of the body while he works things out.” Ereshkigal paused and took a deep breath “So we take the body to this swamp and we’re about to hide her body and get rid of her forever when er, well, I decided we should maybe make her umm...unrecognisable. So I mutilated her face.” Ereshkigal smiled nervously, and by now the interviewer was staring at her with his mouth hanging open. “Turns out she was actually in the middle of a fancy ritual, and now she’s a vampire. And she definitely got a good look at my face. So, I guess I regret not wearing a mask, or a different face.” The interviewer scribbled her answer down, a look of disgust on his face. “I almost don’t want to ask, but what is your biggest unrealised dream?” Ereshkigal thought, before finally asking “Have you ever seen a blade spider?” The interviewer shook his head and wondered where she was going with this. Hopefully this answer wouldn’t end with someone getting cut up. “They’re pretty self explanatory really, it’s a large spider with blades for legs. When I was a little girl I saw one in the town square, and I thought it was the most amazing creature. Did you know they can live as long as a human? When I left home I promised myself I would get one,and it would be my companion and we’d be family. As it turns out, Blade Spider eggs are pretty hard to come by, and if you want to keep one you have to hatch it yourself, otherwise it’ll just attack you.” Ereshkigal knew it was silly, but it was all she really wanted in life. She was already having her Grand Adventures, and she’d never had interest in finding love, all she really wanted was a real companion, something that would love her unconditionally and would never leave her. “I could draw you a picture if you want?” “That’s quite alright, Miss Ereshkigal.” The interviewer said with a laugh, jotting down her answer “What would you say your place in society is?” “I’m an Inquisitor!” she said triumphantly, as if that meant anything here “I’m a hero, really. It’s my job to seek out evil in the Empire and destroy it!” “And mutilate people’s faces?” “To be fair, I thought she was dead.” Ereshkigal grumbled “Anyway, without Inquisitors the Empire would be in trouble, so we’re pretty important.” “Do you actually have any morals?” “Of course I do!” she answered, though she was having trouble thinking of an answer that made her seem normal. Ereshkigal was no stranger to the grimier side of life, she regularly stole things and killed people. Hell, even her identity wasn’t her own. But she only killed for the good of the Empire, and even when she had destroyed Sanguine’s face she’d had a good reason. If it had been discovered that Sanguine had died in a human city, and then dumped in a swamp, the fey world would have been up in arms and Brander would have had a war on it’s hands. The stealing, however, was all for her. The way she saw it, if people weren’t watching their belongings close enough, they clearly didn’t want them. Besides, Ereshkigal hated paying for things. “I do what I need to survive.” She said finally, choosing her words carefully. The interviewer eyed her as he wrote her answer down, perhaps expecting her to elaborate, but she said nothing more. “What is your greatest triumph?” “Oh well that’s easy! Ok, so the boss had asked us to check out this ruined temple with a friend of his, a weird guy called Lucky, and while exploring we’d found this banquet just laid out, ready to eat! So we helped ourselves, and er, well this might have annoyed the guy who lived there. Turned out the temple was still being used by this guy who looked like a squid, I think he was an Illithid or something, anyway, so he challenges us and he’s pretty tough, and he’s bragging about how he’s going to drive us insane and eat our minds. And he just won’t die! We’d hit him with all we had, and then I had an idea. You see, we’d come across a kobold camp in the temple, and one of the things I’d taken from them was this amazing pillow. So I did what anyone else would have, I hit the Illithid with the pillow.” “And...?” “And it killed him and I saved the day!” Ereshkigal smiled, showing off her jagged teeth. What she was actually most proud of was taking down the Illithid at all, as she had later learnt they were quite the formidable opponent, but she had instead succeeded in making her greatest triumph sound like she’d won a pillow fight against an enemy. “Alright, I only have one question left.” The interviewer sounded somewhat relieved, perhaps more so than Ereshkigal was “How do you see yourself?” “Well...” It was the toughest question she had been asked, and the urge to answer “with a mirror” was overwhelming, but she resisted. It was a difficult one for her to answer, she had the ability to see herself as anyone she wanted, but at the same time she could never stop being Ereshkigal. She would always have the same mannerisms, the same personality, the same flaws, and yet no one ever knew her. Even she was beginning to think she didn’t know herself. Finally, after a few moments of silent contemplation, she answered. “I’m just a normal person waiting to see what strange situations the world throws at me.” “Thank you Miss Ereshkigal, that’s all we need.”
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Posted: Sun Aug 28, 2011 11:42 am
Fred Cervenka by Jaudaran o What is your character's deepest fear? Fred is, quite frankly, afraid of making an a** of himself. He perceives people (occasionally correctly) as judging him rather harshly from the beginning because of his mutation, and so he feels as though he has to fight that first impression by doing everything perfectly in order to be seen the way he would like people to see him. In his mind, his positive aspects, particularly being polite, helpful, and good at his job, need to be first thing people notice about him after the third eye that happens to be growing out of his head. His social discomfort is mostly due to his fear of screwing up or saying something wrong, and thus off-setting those positive attributes. Human interactions being as unpredictable as they are, Fred is essentially afraid of finding himself in uncomfortable situations, and handling them poorly. This is the largest reason he tends to avoid much socializing. His other worst fear, however, comes up slightly less frequently. Because Fred wants to help people, but has trouble standing up and taking action (particularly by himself, or in a way that would call attention to him), he worries sometimes about whether he would be able to do the right thing in a situation of great importance. He’s afraid of letting people down, allowing injustice, or even causing others harm through his own inaction. o What is your character's greatest regret?Like most people’s, Fred’s regrets are numerous, scattered throughout his life, and, for the most part, fairly mundane after the fact. Though some may still make Fred himself cringe to think about, they consist mostly of “why did I do/say that”s that resulted in embarrassment or failure. But Fred’s life is more or less the way that he wants it, so there really isn’t anything worth seriously regretting*, even if the small things can seem like a big deal. And, as is sadly common, some of Fred’s greatest regrets are risks he didn’t take, of which there are many. *Except perhaps dying. Fred very much regrets dying. o What is your character's biggest unrealized dream/goal?Not being eaten is high on the list. Second to this, though, is the sad fact that Fred never finished his quest to discover the origin of his mutation, and the mutations of others like him. He’s never made a big deal of it, but throughout his entire life, Fred has quietly wondered just why it is that he was born so different from everybody else. As a child he was picked on quite a bit, as one might expect, and was resentful of the feature that made him a “freak”. But as he aged, and his peers (for the most part) matured beyond outright ridicule, Fred came to terms with his mutation and learned to just accept it as a part of who he is. He now fairly comfortably identifies himself as a mutant, at least privately, and feels a small, pleasant kinship towards others of his kind. Despite this, however, the curiosity has remained, if not strengthened. He’s done some private research, but no real answer has presented itself…so when new rumors surfaced in Haverdon about information on the origins of mutants perhaps lying out beyond the forests, dangerous as the journey was, Fred’s curiosity finally got the best of him. To everyone’s great surprise—including Fred’s—he took the largest risk he ever has and left Haverdon, determined to return with answers. Unfortunately he lost his life before uncovering the truth he sought, and never did return home. o What is your character's place in society?Fred’s place in Haverdon society is, usually, a comfortable one, and a good fit for him. A neighbor, acquaintance, and small business owner, he has more positive relationships than he realizes. Most of these relationships are somewhat formal to him, even though most have acquired a comfortable amount of familiarity—a polite wave and a “good morning” to his neighbors as he makes the short walk from his home to his workshop each day, small talk with strangers and friendly conversation with the grocer, and welcome invitations to community events. Fred is a quiet and private man, though, and the people that know him do respect this, and find that he is none the less quite friendly and helpful, though occasionally awkward, when the situation calls for it. If you look lost, he can be counted on to stop and offer directions—if you’re short a bit of change for a newspaper, he’ll dig through his cluttered pockets, mumbling an apology for the wait, until he comes up with the difference. It is small gestures like this that have earned him the affection of his neighbors. Unfortunately outside of the areas familiar with him, when meeting new people, Fred can still occasionally be looked down upon, or even slightly feared, for his mutation. Because their origins are such a mystery, and because they often look strange and even frightening, mutants are still seem by some people as freaks or even monsters, and suffer discrimination in some parts of Haverdon. o What is your character's moral standard?Sharing a lot of views of basic wrong and right with the rest of Haverdon’s society, and a lot of societies on the whole, Fred’s morality is somewhat uninteresting. He believes people should be free, safe, and equal, and that these three aspects of life are important to protect. He would like to be more selfless in his efforts to do the right thing, but often hesitates to take action in righting perceived wrongs because he isn’t comfortable getting involved. For more important issues, he is more willing to help, but still finds it difficult. When push comes to shove, though, Fred is a good man, and if there is no one else that can do what needs to be done, he will try. o What is your character's greatest triumph?If you asked Fred, he would say the 156-light chandelier hanging in Haverdon’s town hall, the most elaborate piece he’s ever completed. However, though he may not realize it, Fred’s greatest accomplishment is simply the fact that despite his unusual appearance and less than outgoing nature, he is regarded quite fondly among his peers. Many people that meet Fred do gather the impression that he is a somewhat strange man, but more often than not that he is a pleasantly strange man, whose quirks serve more to endear him than to repulse. Most of his neighbors and clients actually like him quite a bit, a fact that Fred is himself only partially aware of. Considering the great disadvantages that he could potentially have, socially, it really is quite remarkable, and a testament to his good nature, that Fred is embraced the way that he is. o How does your character view themselves?Fred’s view of himself is very rooted in how he perceives others are viewing him. He becomes self-conscious and awkward mostly in situations where he feels others may be judging him or thinking negative things about him. He knows the qualities he wishes to possess, but is often unsure of whether or not he actually does—this includes things such as being polite, friendly, and helpful, as well as original and creative. When feeling unsure, he tends to look to the reactions of other people to tell him how to feel about himself. He does usually believe himself to be fairly creative and good at his job, though, and does derive satisfaction and pride from personal accomplishments, helping him at least briefly to overcome his insecurities. He may, for example, upon finishing a light fixture that he is particularly happy with, present it proudly to his client, with very little fear of them disliking the piece. This pride and feeling of self-worth come most often from his job, since it is in general the aspect of his life he has the most confidence about. Though often practical as well, Fred’s work is a form of art, and the creator of these artistic pieces is really what Fred likes to define himself as. He is very passionate about light fixtures. He also, of course, thinks of himself as part of a sort of unspoken mutant “community”. He worries a bit about what others think of his mutation, but he no longer resents it himself. It’s simply who he is. The negative traits he sees in himself tend to center more around his social discomfort and general awkwardness. In short, Fred views himself as a decent man…with a lot of room for improvement.
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Posted: Sun Aug 28, 2011 11:43 am
Devaena by Jalil The magic of the Machina could do wondrous things. It could heal, or destroy, but most importantly for the man known as Cyth it could hide. Crouched silently around the corner and hidden by a field generated by the device on his wrist he listened as two Outsiders, both fiends of some sort, conversed about the dichotomy of good versus evil among their kind. He had gleaned a good bit of useful information, such as that the male believed their kind while born evil could become good. The female's moral standards on the other hand were that their kind were the essence of evil and could never truly be good. She was a black-hearted one to her core, and the malicious smile she gave the other demon was enough to send chills down even Cyth's spine. As the female turned to walk away, Cyth stilled himself against the wall to reduce any distortions in the invisibility field that would give him away. She was wary, he could see it in the way her eyes darted between shadows, constantly vigilant. He swore for a moment that her eyes paused on his exact spot and he slowed his breathing to be as near-silent as humanly possible, but when she moved past him without slowing Cyth decided he was being paranoid. He waited until she was out of sight and then sent off his findings to his superiors via a second device which he spoke into. He was almost finished when a large, emerald-scaled hand gripped him by his torso and yanked him into the air, the still recording device clattering to the ground. Cyth found any urge to scream strangled in fear. It was like looking straight at a nightmare and trying to comprehend it though his mind was frozen in panic. The scaled, dog-like face split into a wicked grin. "You want to know more about little old me?" came the voice, distorted into a malevolent hiss as the monster chuckled. "Be careful what you wish for..." It was then Cyth finally screamed, but in agony as much as fear. It would be the last transmission his employers would receive. -- After some time Devaena found her way back to the area of Serendipity she was more familiar with and to another inn called The Planar's Refuge. Truthfully she had no use for places such as these except to glean information from people who'd had a bit too much to drink, but if she wanted to keep up the appearance of being at least somewhat mortal then well mortals had to sleep at some point. She picked up a room and retired for the night. Devaena had no need for sleep, at least not in the conventional meaning of the word, and she had no way to go back to her home plane and merge with its essence to refresh herself, but the stillness of night would give her time to reflect on her situation, get her bearings, and plan where to go from here. She settled down in the center of the room she'd been provided with her legs crossed and her greatsword laid across her lap and let her mind wander. The touch that fell upon her mind was almost unnoticeable at first, subtly shifting her thoughts inward to herself. Who are you?The whisper in her mind was a gentle caress bringing up images of how Devaena viewed herself. She was the spider weaving it's careful web to trap the unsuspecting and lure them in to her plans. She was the ace player in a game of chess always planning ahead and cornering her opponents into checkmate. She was a creature of belief fueled by the nightmares and principles of those who feared her, hated her, or even worshiped her and thereby unwittingly fed her strength. However most of all she was the master puppeteer plying the strings she attached to the willing and unwilling alike, creating a masterpiece play; her magnum opus. The whisper changed to a breeze stirring up her thoughts. Dreams. Dreams unrealized. What do you dream of?The image came to her mind quickly. Even though the Faceless Ones looked all the same at a glance, she knew in this vision it was her assuming the mantle of the General of Gehenna. No one would be the wiser that it was she save the baernaloths, the mysterious progenitors of the 'loths who whispered dark secrets into her ears, for that was how the General operated. As an idea more than an individual. By becoming the General she would be defeating the greatest among her kind. It would be her greatest accomplishment, greater than anything else she could hope or wish to do. It was also nothing more than a near impossible dream. Of course, that didn't mean she wouldn't try. The breeze became a gale digging deeper into her psyche... Do you regret?Oh did she ever regret, she thought as the scene played before her of a bargain with one of her own. It was to be a mutual gain and the start of a new regime, but ended in a bloody betrayal. She should have expected no less and yet still her fingers traced her stomach where the scar remained. She regretted ever making that deal, not tying up the loose ends after it all ended, but most of all she regretted letting Askovan live to stab her in the back again. She wouldn't be in this mess if not for him. Nightmares, what do you fear?...and that was when the sense of wrongness overtook the dream. Devaena's brow furrowed as she fought in her mind to push back the intruder, but the images flooded forth unbidden. Images of anger, seething and raw. Images of confusing tears flowing from her own eyes. Images of a tender touch... THEY ARE LIES!! her mind bellowed and shoved hard at the intruder. You fear emotion, feeling, being...why? The gale pushed back and the dream coalesced. Devaena found herself looking in a mirror in her quarters at the Bleak Barrens Arena. The shadow behind her was vague, but she knew him. He was as bad as her first damned mate, just in a different way, and yet she couldn't look away from him as in her nightmare she spoke again the words she dreaded. "I don't know who I am anymore. What's the truth and what's the lie? Do I pretend to feel or am I lying to myself that I don't feel what I pretend? What if..." She clenched her jaw. No, she was past this! No! "What if the truth is a lie and the lie is the truth?" You fear what you pretend to be, the gale sighed, content at having its answer. Murderous anger flooded Devaena as the dream broke apart and began to fade. You have no right... Yet in the resulting shift the shadow behind her wavered and she saw her attacker in his place, a humanoid air Elemental. Gotcha, she whispered and turned with alarming alacrity to grab it by the arm and with a jerk sent it careening towards the dream's dissolving edge. The Elemental's eyes went wide as it stumbled just that one step off the edge and into the void below. The dream collapsed shortly after jolting Devaena awake. The room was dark, but she could just make out the Elemental's form unconscious on the floor as if asleep and almost still save the occasional twitch. Good. Let it enjoy a nightmare of her devising... -- Shortly after dawn crept through her window the Peace came knocking on her door. Devaena had expected they would, and with the Elemental still unconscious at her feet it was no surprise that they subdued first and asked questions later. When she awoke it was in an interrogation room with a Dragonkin and a Celestial across from her. "Finally awake, well then let's get started. I see you're an Outsider, so tell me about your society and where you fit in it." Devaena raised a brow. It was certainly not the question she was expecting. Warily she answered, "I'm in a curious place in my society. I am counted among the greater...men of my society having earned my position, but I am the least of them. The bottom of the top if you will." "I see," the Celestial replied non-committally. " And what triumph has placed you where you are?" "Just one?" Devaena chuckled. "Well, I suppose if we're choosing it would be the band of mercenaries that I lead. They call themselves the Forgotten and they have been my trump card for years. But what does this have to do with why I was brought here?" "Information," the Dragon rumbled. Devaena blinked and then laughed richly. "That's what this was all about?" She was smirking as she replied, "A trade then. Ask your questions and I will answer, but when you finish I expect answers for mine."
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Posted: Sun Aug 28, 2011 11:48 am
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Posted: Sun Aug 28, 2011 1:27 pm
Narjin kus LeKarta by Tony WildRiver View of Self: “How do I view myself? How do you mean? My body is used to cart me around, though on occasion, it is rather interesting to appoint physical self as a test subject. In fact, one of the most interesting results I have ever encountered were when I applied a dysmarliote ionic plasma variant to my blood stream. The substance collected in my left lung and caused me to speak in several octaves at once. A most fascinating effect from a substance that was supposed to allow me to see in microscopic. But I digress… Place in society: I was known in my world of origin as one of the greatest minds to have ever been produced. I saw possibilities where others saw conclusions and asked questions where the matter was considered closed. I desired to know, and I therefore sought answers and further questions. My place in society currently and for the past century and a half is and shall continue to be one of the observer, the questioner, a seeker of knowledge… Moral Standard: My morals belong to science. If there is something to be learned, and there always is, it holds sway over me, and I shall act. The hardest decision in fact is which experiments to run, which observations to document, which inventions to test in a given week. And then something monumental may present itself, throwing everything else to second priority. Not sure I would called them morals but I do hold certain scientific beliefs. I disapprove of waste, particularly of life. One of the most unfortunate occurrences is the disposing of life that still has information to provide. In fact, one of my most successful experiments was on a young lady who had sought to kill herself. I retrieved her from where she fell and kept her for 4 years. In the end, she provided a great deal of information and success, including but not limited to increased strength without size, memory modification and personality suppression, and reintegration into emotions. The last one actually occurred near the end of the experiment. I had sent her out on an errand, where she met a man. For the first time in 3 years and 1 month, she showed some interest, felt just a little something. This was improbable for her, so I allowed her to interact with him. He also seemed to grow to care for her, taking care of her though she was considered immensely social awkward and frightening. By this point, it was near time for me to leave to the next world. I therefore, ended the experiment and allowed her to go with the man. So you see, waste not… Greatest Regret: I suppose if I regret one thing, it would have to be that I am not able to return to my own home world. I cannot perform many experiments on my own physiology without compromising my ability to explore and challenge the laws of science. Therefore the idea that I can never return to perform experiments on others of my own kind is rather disappointing… Greatest Triumph: Oh where do I start? If I could tell you the things that I have learned, the discoveries I have made. Sadly, we do not have time. However, allow me to describe a few that I am most proud of. Dissolvable tech is easily one of my most used and useful. Anything I create that must go inside something requires only a remote code to dissolve into a substance completely harmless both to the environment and to the living organisms of the world. I have also done a great deal of work on memory- modification, suppression, and enhancement. In fact, I believe one of my greatest triumphs is a substance called Campos Gas. It is an odorless, invisible gas that is used to cause vast amounts of people to forget someone. A DNA sample of the person to be forgotten is added to the liquid mixture. Once it makes contact with the air, it transforms into a gas and diffuses into the atmosphere, modifying the memories of everyone it encounters. One drop would be enough to affect an area double the size of Serendipity. Of course, I was curious and proceeded to also create a counter gas that reverses the effects. Interestingly, the counter mixture proved to be more potent than the original gas… Deepest Fear: Deepest fear… Let me think. My first instinct would be that I would eventually discover everything there is to know in every plane of existence. However, if there is indeed one thing that is impossible or at the very least, so improbable that it would be pointless to worry about, that would be it. Therefore, my greatest applicable fear would be that I someday be rendered unable to perform science. Deprived of all senses, cut off from my intellect…*brief shudder* A most unpleasant prospect… Unrealized dream: I do indeed have many ideas that I have not been able to explore, for I have not found the methods or technology needed to perform such experiments. Testing in the core of black hole or on the surface of a sun; controlling plate tectonics; going beyond the tri-sub atomic levels; the list is rather lengthy. However, all of this adds up to the fact that while my dream could be called unattainable, one could say that I am in fact living my dream: To expand the knowledge and challenge the laws of science to the end of my days. AH! Hold on, perhaps I do have another dream: to have a laboratory capable of residing in its own dimension connected to all others, so that I might perform cross-dimensional experiments and not have to destroy my lab every few years… Goodness! 5 hours! Note to self: testing truth serums of unknown, potentially powerful potency on oneself may cause incessant rambling, but does not distract from performing daily activities.” Turning to the horrified figure chained to the wall, LeKarta smiled and asked pleasantly, “Now then, enough about me. You are known as a Celestial, yes?”
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