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 Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 11:46 am
oh boy, I'm the first person to post an entry, too bad it isn't very good.
Name: Nadia
Age: 17
Ethnicity: White Caucasian
Special powers/abilities: elemental manipulation, mind-to-mind speak with others having power, and animals, interplanar travel
About: This simple girl is going to school in a rather large community. She is part of the Peer Support System, in the band, and a strong student. One of her tasks is to lead new students around, and when she is asked to help Raul, her life starts spinning out of control and she learns that things exist that she would have never imagined.
heart The beginning of this story is posted, the title is Guardians. Please read it and post comments. heart
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 4:31 pm
You know what they say! Second's the best! xp
Name: Roky Penter
Age: 17
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Special powers/abilities: N/A
About: Roky was never anything exceptional, he led a normal life, a boring life, but one he managed and enjoyed. After a series of pleasant and timely events, leading to the sudden, painful and abrupt transportation of himself and over sixty other people from Earth to a world many years away, ruled and existing in an ever evolving semi-feudal manner.
Roky realizes after staunch denial that the place he is now, is not Earth. Abuducted into a brothel not a few days after his arrival, Roky works, and works hard, to be kept a live and not be sold by the dying House, which due to a recent break in and theft, has left it grasping for money to support itself.
When Roky and many others are finally sold and the brothel closed, he is in turn purchased by a wealthy marketeer who decides a strange course of action, he adopts Roky. To Roky's surprise, his new father Diorih Kathesh, wants him more as a warrior prodigy, and so has Roky trained in many forms of diplomacy, war, psychology and torture. His new life is so appealing and addictive that Roky loses all sense of himself and turns his growing skills to creating a group of "Delivery Men," though packages are not usually what they deliver.
After a rough series with the city guard and many wounded and upset traders and money lenders, Diorih forces Roky from the city and into an apprenticeship south west of the city of Berg to Mortenia where he attends a military training centre for a full year. There he garnishes all sorts of material to use against anyone who would oppose him, his new friends, some blood hungry and some just out of admiration, follow him and learn and fight as he does, each in turn swear a secret oath of allegiance to Roky, who tells them one day, he will call on them.
Roky's time in Foria, the western country of the world ruled over by the giant-like overlord For, shapes and moulds him from a level headed thinking survivor into a bitter and malicious warmonger. Roky has no powers, he is human and carries his staunch will to learn, survive and his lust for death on his sleave. He is in every sense normal, given his situation, and his constant internal struggle between selfishness and morality, I would say Roky acts much like anyone would act given the things he has, and by all means will go through.
Roky is a little bit of everything, he enjoys the enar lawlessness of the world he is now in, but because of his overbearing wrecklessness he has made himself a target for many bounty hunters and killers who would seek him out to take his head back to the highest bidder. In time, Roky crashes, his steam and wind have left him, his peace of mind, locked solidly within a stone casket of ego and skill breaks. He flees from the world, himself and takes on many different identities to keep himself unknown for by now, most of the world has heard of him.
How much sanity he has left, no one can say. He lives, kills, eats, breathes like anyone else. His biggest enemy, is almost always himself.
End
the Lion
P.S. So? How'd I do? You said AT LEAST one paragraph, and since this character is the love child of all my thoughts and plots I had to enter him into the contest, can't wait to see how he contends!
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 8:29 pm
Quote:
[ Name ] Mordecai Pablo Tavish
[ Alias ] "Drug", "Syncope"
[ Sex ] Male
[ Age ] Around 32
[ About ]
Physical Description ->
Aptly named, "Drug" is the kind of person you would see on a modern Bosch tea poster, or in the expensively twisted depths of the most well-greased hallucinogenic soup imaginable. Not that I would suggest trying to make a soup out of him. OR a tea. Chemical use and whim has degraded his skintone into a sickly frost-white, rendering him incredibly spectral, and, well, a lot like an animated corpse. The attraction associated with this man is often more a morbid curiosity— as his attributes, though deviant, are prepossessing and enjoyably strange.
In body he is narrow, angular, defined as hawkish. Any aesthetic merit which he can own up to is not what we would call "classically handsome" because of the gauntness that is insoluable accompaniment. Lack of proper nutrition, as well as personal preference, has left a credible ghost of a person. Long thin legs and arms. Pronounced joints. Fine-boned hands, all slender and quick moving. Wiry musculature. Nice tight a**. You know the drill. MOVIN' ALONG:
A spiking duo of collar-length, bleached forelocks neatly concert all expression, the rest a veritable circus of cropped, styled spines gelled back against his skull. Mismatched irises, one wolf-yellow, the other a thin wire of electric blue (amidst contusion-darkened sclera) light Drug's sharp face with almost hypnotic purpose. This latter eye is permanently dilated. Close examination will reveal geometric patterns, microscopic metal inserts visible as if off a circuit board. Semi-deafness affects his inner ear on the same side, his right.
Oho, and here's something for your enjoyment. Scrawling over his steel-capped spine— serratis of the ribs, inner thighs, fingertips; terrible scarring. Lines and depressions, gouges and old slashwounds. Layer upon layer of abuse. He hardly HAS a dermal print anymore. Missing his last knuckles, too. Drug won't let people touch his good hand.
Get ready for a pleasant bonus. Necrotic appendages have been bolted to the man's skull. Pocked and pitted by scars. Ragged from the assault of nervous fingernails. Hanging limp, are Jackrabbit's ears! Two sets. One pair sprouts from just above his normal ears (Yes, he has some, just as good as your own. So technically three sets) and the other directly behind, drooping down against his scapula under the weight of intense amount of piercings. Oh, the Horror.
And if this weren't enough (Brace yourselves, folkes), he has ******** SYRINGES for fingers. You heard me. Just one hand; the right. Nice glass ones. Creepy 1880's hypodermics, short, wicked needles— colors contained varying from liquid to liquid, or whatever political symbolism or statement he is surreptitiously trying to worm past. Etching shines on three of the five surfaces, consecutively; b***h – RAVE – SCREAM. He has these techy medical 'accessories' because everything is missing from base joint up. And also because THAT limb from below the shoulder is completely bionic, so he can screw whatever s**t on there he wants. Freak.
Just a few more minor details. Fear not, kids. We've passed the brunt of it. 'Member, this is all trying to create that priceless feel of the "HOLYJEEZUSLOOKATTHATMONSTROUSSUBVERSIONOFNATURE" kinda' route. Onward!
Tattoos, howabout? He has a few of those. The largest of all is a red, one-ringed bull'seye on his left shoulder, with little inverted triangles pointing out from its circumference. On the same side and starting at the elbow, the dark-verdigris word "Satyr" climbs up the side of his arm and ends with the 'r' at the deltoid. Drug can also claim to an impressive array of pierced bodyparts, though few of his own volition. Those that are unable to be physically disengaged without surgery include a metal plate welded into his chin, thick steel bangles forced through the tibia and fibula of his calves, and some crazy genital hardware. Oh. And previously mentioned spine-pin-cap things. KINKY LOL DESU. ;D
Lastly we return to his facial features. "Stitches" Should be an honourary in his name, and it's no wonder. Up from the left corner of his lip is an avenue of smile-disfiguring surgical staples that take liberty through his cheek and eye, all the way over the brow, scalp, to end nape-wise. Dissectively this crooks into a most ominous snarl, no matter what mood our friend is in. Nerve dyssynergia, kiddies. Drug's grimace will haunt your every waking thought. <3
Psychological Description ->
Equally as horrifying are the patterns of glowing primary color, Pavlovic berserkery, nuclear tests, atrocity stills, and ancient HHH Saturation chamber mindbezerkery— all in one surreal digital jump-cut after the next— that makes up his unique way of thinking. Eh, perhaps a little more… Refined.. than that. It's an elitist insanity. Oh yeah. And don't ******** with this man. Don't ******** with him, period.
Well, not unless you want him to involve you in his creative pursuits, often, a painful process for the person on the other side of the scalpel/paint can/forensic Spectroscope. Honestly. Not only is he a tortured sociopath gone mad-scientist, he's a painter. Sculptor. Visionary. Artist. Anybody below (or above) him is just another specie of canvas unto which he has full right of any atrocity that an Anti Mind can devise. Like stuffing you into an industrial woodchipper. Yeah. That's good stuff.
Drug's expressions are solid; mirrors into a world of demented and profound emotion. Too commonly, leaving interested bystanders in the dust with his abstract and multifaceted way of sharing what's on his mind. Filled to the eyeballs with ******** up logic, mmmyep, that's our Drug. Half the time he can hardly keep track of what his own mouth says, and is constantly contradicting himself. Comes with the craziness.
Then of course you have your mercurial obsessions so commonly afflicting derailed people. If he takes interest in something, he dedicates. If it's a person, he immortalizes you. Constantly fascinated by the inner cogwork of the human (Or inhuman) mind, it's not difficult for Drug to grow enamoured with any casual acquaintance. Depending on how much you entertain him, when he's finished with you, you'll be crucified on a gold pedestal with your filthy, steaming innards spilling from your flayed abdomen. And doesn't that sound absolutely yummy? NO. It makes us choke down our own vomit. Another fine reason not to get on his.. Worse.. side. Uh, his less-worse side still not being particularly "good".
He is, naturally, characterized by extreme intelligence and unconventional views. Nestled in next to all this rabid debauchery lies a thespian, sensitive soul in hibernation. Good moods are shown in an alert eager bearing, sympathetic manor (verging on a gush), and quick, unexpected movements. Healthy manic twinges are the best you can hope for. They are comparatively pleasant with mah boy. If you are obnoxious, a moron, stale, tightassed, weasely, or devoid of any miserable scraping of humour, you are NOT in his good books. Those being the books where there aren't crude stickfigure drawings of you receiving a good clobber with a tireiron.
Physically and mentally there is a pension for advancing in short bouts; to alight suddenly and apparently on impulse, only to dart off in the same manner. He takes half-mischievous enjoyment, disconcerting and astonishing others by his methods of procedure. Innocence is all in the rigs of situation. This crazy a*****e's been known to make passes at both gals and guys, given they're to his architectural fancy and have a decent head on their shoulders. Idiots are dealt with as follows to his acute history of spitting in faces AND/OR maimage.
Eighthly, do not insult this man's excessive intelligence. He may be clinically insane, but he's really lucid. Scientifically brilliant, not to mention. He knows when he is being talked down to. It's not all like "Insert witty retort here", Mordecai will just plain smack you upside the head if he hears a tone he doesn't like. Or break your nose. Or tear those obnoxious snakebites out of your lower lip like he's wanted to for seven whole minutes now. Ermn. But the very worst of it may be his extensive spouting off about the ignorance of society, and the oppidan cancers (people) it continues to belch from the grimy womb of pre-Marxism. Then he dumps his gingerbread latte on your head.
See? Nobody needs to hear that old spiel again. Don't push it. But what a guy! And in such a pretty package, too. ;O
Historical Description ->
Drug's History is a clear, editable slate designed for easy
assimilation into genre of choice, with variables affected by situation.
In this manner I am able to recreate any number of fanciful excuses
for his makeup, and reason out particulars when an explanation is
required. And believe me, more often than not, one is.
Notes ->
Mordecai has been the victim of a large number of both psychological and neurological disorders, most of which were acquired (rather than inherent) and have reacted unpredictably to medication. Only a range of Parasomnias is inherent, characterized by Narcoleptic attacks, cataplexy, and somnambulism.
As a Diversiphorm, his inability to transmutate is what he's coined as a "Technical hiccup of Synapses". Drug's knack for biochemistry and pention to horrifically unwise self-tests resulted in the neurological shortage that disabled whatever mechanism his kind relies on. Or so he speculates. It's the best excuse for why he looks like he does. Shapeshifters on drugs, baaaad.
Mordecai's BPD was originally claimed to be mild cyclothemia— until a very recent span of about two years ; during which he experienced deep psychological trauma. He emerged with a rediagnosed case of (rare) full blown Ultradian bipolarity. This can be connected with his acute Psychosis and Thixophobia, also having developed through the duration. Mordecai's Stereotypic Movement Disorder and Conduction Aphasia emerged after a number of head injuries he sustained over the same period of time.
Carbamazepine based Tegretol treats not only his bipolar disorder, but is effective with acute psychotic 'delirium' as well. His heavy use of Tegretol necessitates frequent blood tests, so Lithium is substituted as a mood stabilizer. Muscle relaxants leaven SMD. Narcolepsy is treated with therapeutic sleep aids, simply because no medication exists that is safely compatible with Carbamazepine and lithium combined. He is currently testing several home-manufactured formulas, likely to be dumped in some poor crazie's orange juice later this morning.
Quirks ->
Drug has been known to, usually in the middle of a conversation of some kind, scream the last word out of his addresser's mouth, become mindlessly repetitive if able to answer, and immediately lose consciousness. What this has to do with ANYTHING is unclear. This behavior is mercifully infrequent.
Is very expressive with his hands, giving a thoughtful mien. However, his eyes often wander or go hazy and unfocussed. Obvious multitasking capabilities, to the point of being scatterbrained. Bad short-term memory.
HISTRIONIC, exhibiting hypersexuality. His attentions vary from subtle intonation, to full on blunt "Up the a**, SIDEWAYS". Doesn't appear to have scruples or a preference beyond pretty faces.
An advanced contortionist. Able to unhinge random points of his skeleton at will, and disturbingly flexible. Not that you'll ever really get to see any of that. Trust the narrator. There is some imagery you don't need BURNED into the backs of your eyeballs.
Flaws ->
Drug.. has an imperceptible limp. Sometimes he's over-dramatic with it, perhaps as a diversionary tactic. Flings himself on any object, person(s), in the immediate vicinity. Both semi-deaf and colorblind on his right. None of the animalistic ear additions function.
Needs to be gently, methodically coaxed into contact not of his own direct personal intention. Shies away from ungloved hands. Otherwise, not particularly bothered by touching others at his own discretion. The man's a bloody doctor for gawd's sakes.
And finally; he cries a lot. Yells. Screams. Goes into horribly emotional fits. Then he's all fine and repressed. Then he squeals at fooffly kitties and clouds and butterflies. It's a condition. But the crying, that just might persevere through the whole cycle. Don't be alarmed if he randomly breaks into tears while.. Tying his shoe.
Uh, that is, if he's wearing any.
Because sometimes he doesn't.
And if he did, they'd probably be buckled thigh-highs.
Goddamnit, you know what I mean!
END LAWL. x3
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 9:08 pm
I've been itching for this contest to kick off and know I can post my charrie.
Name: Acroucia
Age: Unknown
Ethnicity: Caucasian when in human form but Winged Wolf in animal form (hope the animal is allowed if not then disregard it).
Special powers/Abilites: Archery, Shapeshifter, has limited elemental powers.
About: He does not know his own age for the simple fact that he only remembers waking up near a tree and nothing before it. He is apart of a prophecy that tells the coming of the last war against the evil his land is fighting. He travels to his kinds part of the land with a few companions, who eventually break him of his loner personality but not his bluntness, to warn his kind of the evil. He soon finds out that to find out about his past he must look into the beginnings of the evil. The only way to find out the beginnings of the evil is to fight in the last war against them which he does not wish to take part in. During the last war, which has been named by many the New Dawn, for after it signifies a time of peace, Acroucia realizes that if he does not die in this war it will claim is life later.
~Hope that is good. He is one of the characters in a story I'm still in the process of figuring out what goes here and there.
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 11:15 pm
3, thats good for a day, *taps desk* hmm, we need more people, good thing i made it open for a week. i think i'll change the title a bit.
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Posted: Tue Jun 19, 2007 10:26 am
Ok this dude is an amalgamation of one of my DnD characters and one from a story I've been working on and will probably post on here eventually....
Name: Adar Charazon
Age: Unknown even to himself but if one really wishes to try one could piece together various stories about him and find that he must be in his late 100's to early 200's
Ethnicity: Winged Drow
Special powers/abilities: He is both a Sorcerer and a Necromancer. I made up my own rules and definitions of those in this story. Ummm... here's the quick and dirty version as explained by Adar himself:
“Okay. I’ll explain it the best way I can to people who only have a theoretical knowledge of Power. The simplest way to put this is that Sorcery is the power of life, and Necromancy that of death. But their differences don’t stop there. Both Powers rely on the concept of Parallel Value. That states that to create something, something of the equivalent value must be given. In Sorcery this is the energy of life. To use the energy of life, one must put in at least a part of their own energy in order to establish the connection, and use the life power of another. This is why all who use Sorcery will eventually tire, and must rest. Necromancy uses the same power as Sorcery, in essence. But, the power of death is different in that all of the life energy of the creature is given off in one explosive concussion. Since that power is basically there for the taking, and not being used, a Necromancer doesn’t have to make any connection, and thus doesn’t tire. At all. And since things die constantly, an experienced User can take all the Power he wants, whenever he wants. That is devastating enough. But if the User is able to call on the power of Sorcery as well, and establish a connection with a living soul, he can actually rip that soul from its body, and enslave it. Depending on the soul and the skill of the User, this slave could be an invaluable ally.”
About: (I like writing from my character's point of view so it's in the first person... hope that doesn't bother anyone.)
When my parents saw that I was born with wings, they knew that their worst fears were confirmed. Unfortunately for everyone involved my parents fell in love. Not common among the Drow of my city. Marriages were arranged, not chosen, and both of my parents were promised to another. Being who they were they decided to run away and elope. Though they were successful, neither of them realized that they both held a dark secret within their very souls. There was a reason all marriages were arranged, and a reason that my parents were never supposed to mate. Our city, I have discovered, was founded by Warlocks who had made a pact with a particularly vile winged demon whose name I shall omit for fear of accidentally attracting his attention. As a result, he decided that he was to be the deity of the newly founded Drow city the name of which I was never told, so that I could never try to search it out. The non-Warlock population was violently apposed to this, and there was a civil war. Eventually the non-Warlocks won, due to superior numbers, and a good deal of divine intervention on the part of their spider queen, who again shall remain nameless, so as to avoid attracting unwanted attentions. Now the Warlock bloodlines are carefully monitored, and as it so happens my parents were the descendants of the two most powerful Warlocks in the old war. The power of the Warlocks had been kept in check for centuries… until I was born.
When I was born winged, my parents both knew that the other was of at least mixed blood, and that I was a Warlock of unusual power among their kind. Offspring such as me had been… lets say “terminated” in the past, which was a less devastating blow to a couple that didn’t love each other. They couldn’t kill me, but they couldn’t keep me either.
They tried to keep me hidden in the lesser known parts of town, but it was no good. I was discovered. It was decided that I was to be terminated in the same way as the others before me. I was to be left in the Underdark, for the bests to eat. My mother, may she be forgiven for all that she has done, was executed for treason against the Matriarch, but my father was spared. He was useful. He had a certain talent that others in the city very much needed. You see, my father was one of the few pet Warlocks that the Matriarch allowed to live. He was too weak to fight, but he had an unnatural and unparalleled talent for making magical items.
Since his life was spared, my father was able to sneak out of the city at times and make sure I was at least surviving. Until he was caught. I was no older than nineteen, which for a Drow is still infancy, when the Matriarch decided that my father had outlived his usefulness. My father was killed in the Games. An Underdark beast that I had been able to destroy for at least four years was caught, and he was forced to fight it. It killed him in seconds. Then was itself killed by one of the Matriarch’s Clerics. I was on my own.
The years from then until my finding a collapsed tunnel and an exit to the outside world at the age of 100 years are too painful to recollect here. Most of those years are a blur anyway. I forgot even my own name. When I immerged I discovered that the people of the surface were no more tolerant of my kind that than my kind were. I took the name they gave to me. Kenpachi. It’s an old name, and in the language of it’s origin was the title given to the person in the generation who was both the strongest, and the one who enjoyed fighting the most. Now I just try to live.
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Posted: Tue Jun 19, 2007 10:29 am
Oh yeah... and yes I borrowed a bit from some anime and other books I've read but I think I put enough of myself into it so as to make it, if not completely original, then at least somewhat unique.
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Posted: Tue Jun 19, 2007 11:13 am
Name: Meera Ar'Teleb
Age: 21
Ethnicity: of the All
Special powers/abilities: Unbridled idealism, quick wits
About: Meera began her life a privileged daughter to scholars of the grey towers of The Mind, a prominent quarter of The All. The unmeasurably immense city has stood for time immemorial, expanding and growing like a living thing. Most inhabitants have never seen natural land, save those farmers living on The Skin, and none have ever seen further in than The Soul.
Studious and bookish, Meera was raised in the ancient tradition of the Scholars, protectors of the History of Man and of all knowledge. Her mother and father were among the highest-ranking in their order, Custodians of the History. Dark-haired Meera, slight of frame and delicate as many of her Order, grew easily into the tradition. She excelled in her studies, and proved her obedience and worth in all areas of responsibility.
It was due to her maturity and progress on the road to Custodian that made her actions all the more surprising. By the time she was 18 and nearing the time for her commencement, she disappeared. She was nowhere to be found in The Mind, from the hundreds of dust-laden libraries to the towering observatories. Her parents grieved, for foul play was so rare in The Mind, but no other explanation could be found.
The truth would have shocked them beyond their suspicions of murder, though. One of her instructors in the History of Man, whom she had grown very close to, was also the founder of the secret Association for Truth in History, a group only whispered about and deplored by all scholars as conspiracy theorists and paranoid crazies. He had noted her bright mind and habit of questioning in her classes and slowly inducted her.
The Association believed that the History of Man was incomplete, and even contained flaws - blasphemy in the realm of the Scholars. They wished to set out on an expedition to the ancient ruins beyond The Soul to discover the truth of the rumored birthplace of mankind. The monks of the Soul have forbidden any to travel beyond their wall, saying the ancient evil there must be kept at bay. Meera joined the Association, and set out on this forbidden expedition in search of truth with a small group of like-minded renegades.
Surrounded by renegade members of the Association, many older than herself, Meera feels a combination of forboding and excitement. Her inner drive for truth and to know the true origins of her entire world push her on in the dangerous journey, but her inexperience and physical weakness cause the journey to take a heavy toll on her. She remains positive and idealistic, as is her nature, while she faces the fear of the unkown ahead of her and the Evulsers, monks dedicated to hold the law, behind her.
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Posted: Tue Jun 19, 2007 12:44 pm
A number of good submissions so far! Keep them coming!
-LD
Edit: Here here! biggrin
-CM
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Posted: Tue Jun 19, 2007 6:55 pm
Name: Tsunami
Age: 12007
Ethnicity: Japanese
Special powers/abilities: controls elements and spirits
About: She is a demon that was created long ago by a council of mages during the time of war between demons and mages. Her one purpose was to be a weapon that would end the struggle. Soon after her "birth" though her master's son betrayed her and sealed her away for over eleven thousand years. Coming to in a remote area in the mountains, she was awaken in the 1800's to a Japan at war once again. Taken in by the man that found her, she was trained as an assassin for hire. Years later, her profession varied to bounty hunting. In this way she met the person that would become her husband, the son of the mage that had sealed her away. After only six short months of marriage her husband was killed in a war that had broken out between the species of the world. Being an immortal, she cannot follow her beloved in the next world and is cursed with the loss of her first love. Since his death, her whereabouts have become unknown.
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Posted: Tue Jun 19, 2007 7:08 pm
Name: Beatrice "Glitch" Walker
Age: 9 years
Ethnicity: Caucasian/Macintosh
Special Powers/Abilities: Glitch is able to directly hook up her conscious mind to any computer system created by man. Cell phone, laptop, desktop, handheld PC, satellites, and even calculators.
About: When she was a newborn, Beatrice was taken by a power-hungry doctor known for performing illegal genetic mutation experiments on children. He 'worked his magic' on Beatrice, and she was then able to do the remarkable things she can do now. Eventually, Beatrice became bored with the doctor and had him killed. The police report said he was strangled with computer wires. They never did find the culprit.
Beatrice's power also has a serious repercussion. Because information flows both ways between the computer system and her brain, Beatrice is severely prone to viruses and Trojian horses. She glitches at random moments, and must then 'reboot' on her own time.
Now, only nine years of age, "Glitch" is on the wanted lists of twelve differently countries and is one of the top ten threats of at least thirty covert agencies around the world.
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Posted: Tue Jun 19, 2007 9:42 pm
Yay, seven people!! and Leavaros, what did ya mean by CM?
*edit Ah, nevermind, der
i guess the owner of the guild has exclusive admin rights. CM- Crystalsmuse. *flicks self* think dammit think. any way good night peoples. and keep posting descriptions!!
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Posted: Wed Jun 20, 2007 1:54 am
Name: Osdar
Age: 18
Ethnicity: Gerbalesian (Country of Gerbalese)
Special powers/abilities: Control over all magic used, spirit summoner. Sword, bow and master of martial arts
About: Osdar lived in a small village with his parents and his little sister. A groiup of three people began following him around when he neared his sixteenth summer. They could use magic. He reached the age of sixteen and according to the village custom, had to leave the village for a week. He decided to leave and travel with the three people he had met a season before, their names were Tala, Marlo and Serala. They gave him the ability to use magic and he found out he was a descendant of a race of elves that had supposedly died out millions of years before. The race of elves were called the Lesedar. He and the rest of the group found out that thier ancestors had a mortal enemy, another race of elves called the Sersadan. The ran from the Sersadan for 2 years before they finally fought them in a full out war at the gates of Kelmath.
I'm sorry if it doesn't sound that great but I had to narrow down my three novels into 1 paragraph. Hope you like it.
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Posted: Wed Jun 20, 2007 11:26 am
Name:
April Lightwell
Age:
23
Ethnicity:
Caucasian? Her mom is Irish and her Dad is Swedish. She is with the Lenarian army.
Special powers/abilities:
She is one of the Sight, people the ability to cast their consciouness anywhere they want to, to spy on anybody. She is also able to possess people for a short amount of time, and Sights are able to speak to each other with their minds.
About:
She was born to a middle-class family in Oregon. When she was twelve her father died of an brain aneurysm. Her mother fell into a deep depression and April basically took care of herself after that. Two years later their house was foreclosed and they moved tiny house on the outskirts of town.
Cut to nine years later. April has moved back into town and is trying to save up enough money to go to college. Because of living near the woods for so long she wants to become a botanist. She works full time in a small bookstore. She's coming home from her job one day when it begins to rain, as it often does in Oregon. She still a mile away from her house (she doesn't have a car) and the only store open at the time is a small magic shop.
She ducks inside and asks the owner if she can stay until the rain stops. The owner, Sidra, agrees, but says that she is having a meeting in a few minutes and she would have to see if it was alright with the others. After a short time a group of oddly dressed men and women come into the shop. A tall man in his early forties, a mute by the name of Griffin, studies April for a moment then nods his head.
April follows the group into the back room. As soon as she steps through the door the floor dissapears and she falls, landing in the middle of a forest. She learns that she has been transported to a world not her own, which is simply called The Land. There are two different countries, Lenaria and Magdon. The northern Magdon is trying to take over Lenaria, which is smaller but has access to the major ports and so has more money.
April has been recruted as a spy for the Lenarian army. Griffin, the lead Sight in the country, takes her to a castle which is part fortress, part school for people of abilities. (There are many different abilities- to transport, to shapechange, to heal, etc. Each ability has a specific teacher- in April's case, Griffin.)
There are three other sights with April- Myla, a shy, smart girl, Asher, who tries to make everyone around him laugh, and Ryian, with whom April falls in love with and they begin a relationship. After being basically abandoned by everyone she loved, she is attracted to his steadfast nature. They are all from different worlds except for Asher, who was born in Lenaria.
One day while scouting around the enemy's base, Ryian's mind gets captured and for days he lays in a catatonic state, growing ever weaker. April mamages to find him and free his mind but the Magdons find out where they are in the process. The whole castle is forced to flee. Griffin, Myla, Asher, April and Griffin decide to go west, to Asher's childhood home.
Once they reach it, they will try to launch another attack on Magdon, but for now they are still traveling through the forests, hiding from the Magdon army.
(sorry about the crappy writing, I was in a hurry)
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Posted: Wed Jun 20, 2007 11:41 am
Split the About into 3 sections, for the sake of neatness. 3nodding . I was going to have a picture to go along with the profile, but that does not appear to be forthcoming. So I will post without it.
Name: Aiyu Nigume
Age: 17
Ethnicity: Kusotan Gnome (Gnome from the island-based empire of Kusotan)
Special powers/abilities: Master of the magical art of Illusions. Has some proficiency in various elemental spells as well, most notably water spells.
About: (Split into 3 sections below)
Physical: 4' tall, roughly 82lbs. Well rounded out figure, with just a tiny bit of pudge. His unruly, medium-length hair is a very dark shade of brown. He has violet colored eyes, pointed ears, and a pale white complexion. He often wears a long (down to just above the ankles), multi-pocketed, dark brown patched jacket. Underneath often wears a black, cyan trimmed tunic and trousers. Also carries a black staff which has an emerald embedded in the ornate head of it, the staff is just a tiny bit taller than him. Is very weak physically do to his bookish nature.
Bio:Was born in the year of the emperor 503, in the small port city of Yasuta. His father was a scholar, his mother stayed at home to raise the children. He was 1 of 5 children, born the middle child. His two younger sisters were named Miyo and Kahori. His older brother was named Ise. His oldest brother, Genji, died as a captain in the Emperor's navy, when his ship was attacked by pirates. Genji died when Aiyu was 10, and the loss affected him a good deal. At the age of 11, he began to be trained in the magical arts by Master Acaru, one of the few magicians who lived in the city. Aiyu developed a great thirst for knowledge and within 5 years had learned everything that Acaru could teach him. After spending a few months learning under various other masters in his city, who knew little more than Acaru did. Aiyu decided to leave home and continue on his quest for knowledge. He bade his family farewell, carrying with him enough supplies to last him a weeks journey as well as a large collection of scrolls from his father. He is now traveling among the elves, seeking a new teacher.
Personal: Intelligent, Humorous, and Witty. Often seeks the diplomatic solution to an issue. Very Cynical, Opinionated, and Independent. Often compassionate towards animals, sometimes even more so then fellow sentient beings. Has a habit of getting in trouble over the things he says, even if he does not mean them to be offensive. Can be quite manipulative when it comes to getting something that he wants. Is compelled by his desire to learn, very bookish.
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