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My Judging Scores:
1. ID #4093 (Score: 19 points)
2. ID #1852 (Score: 17.5 points)
3. ID #0871 (Score: 16 points)
4. ...etc.

+1 Bonus Points for Participation

Name of In-Game RP Character: Loreli Silentsong
Job: Gardener
Physical Description of Character: Her crimson locks are normally held back by a bit of leather, and are threaded with natural golden highlights. It would be much prettier if she ever took the time to take care of it, but it is normally mussed with neglect. Her bright blue eyes are hidden behind black-rimmed spectacles. She has taken to wearing big, long brightly colored shirts and dark colored cutoffs, so they don't get so dirty. Loreli almost never wears shoes, as she hates them with a passion.

Personality of Character: She acts like a little kid half the time, amazed by everything in the world. Her normal attitude is much like this. This is when she's easily distracted or absorbed by the smallest things, like a pretty flower or a bright star. Her attention span depends entirely upon how interesting the thing is she's inspecting. In this state, her emotions are also wild. She is normally happy and excited about something or other, but the smallest remark can be taken in the most wrong way. At her home is a large garden, mostly filled with strawberries that she takes care of herself.


The other half of the time she is almost an adult, taking responsibility for her pets. This side doesn't come out too often, only when her darlings are in danger or she is. She steps up and does her part when she has to, but this reminds her too much of what she doesn't want to become: an adult. She does tend to take off on random trips, however, but when she does she takes her pets and children with her. This side also comes out when she's out traveling and she has to do something important.

Prompt #1:
Loreli Silentsong, only nine years old, watched the coffin as it slowly sunk into the dark grave it was being lowered into. Inside laid the corpse of her foster brother, Kris, who she had worshipped in every way possible. They were closer than any siblings related by blood could be, even though they were nine years apart. So when he was suddenly found dead in his room, the little girl was devastated. She hadn't spoken a word since her foster parents had told her he wasn't coming back. Somehow, she wondered why they wouldn't let her see Kris's body.

Then a thought dawned in her young mind as her foster mother rubbed her back, murmuring soothing things into her ear. Maybe Kris hadn't been crying at night because he was sad...maybe he was hurt. Maybe he was sick. Then everything clicked. Maybe that was why he always wore long shirts and pants, maybe that was why he winced every time Loreli touched him. But who could have made him sick like that?

Her gaze moved up to her foster mother on her right, and her foster father on her left and she froze. They had made him sick. They were the reason he wasn't coming back. Why? They always said how cute Kris used to be, and how fast he was growing up. How cute she was, so tiny in every way. Maybe they didn't want him to grow up.

That was why he wasn't coming back.

"I'm never growing up," the little girl whispered, and her foster mother leaned in to hear her.

"What's that, honey?" Her foster mother asked sweetly, brushing a lock of muted red hair from Loreli's face.

Loreli didn't answer, her eyes locked on the dirt they were piling on top of Kris's grave.


Prompt #2:
To tell the truth, I've never really thought of myself as a good parent for any child. Not that I wouldn't care for them and make sure their every need was looked after, it was always that I was more of a child than any kid I had ever met. Children always seemed better playmates than babies to be scolded for getting dirty, because most of the time, it was me out there getting dirty. My imagination ran as wild as any of my brothers and sisters when I was growing up, but as they aged, their imaginations seemed to fade as the years passed. While I was out still making mud pies to provide dinner for some gruesome beast who would eat me if I didn't feed him properly, my siblings were inside with my foster parents learning what was expected of them.

As I grew older, I wanted a child to share this wonderful world with, a world which had become all shades of grey to my brothers and sisters. A child who wouldn't laugh at the things I came up with, wild creatures with flaming violet fur and gnashing yellow teeth, or silly princesses who would create flowers in the middle of winter to keep her company. Children always accepted my words as the truth, for I was older than they, and their parents always came down upon them scolding, glaring at me for putting such foolish thoughts into their minds. Then they would steal away their children, leaving me alone with only my strange stories. To have my own child, to be able to raise them to see the fascinating world of color that I did, that was the dream I kept close to my heart always.

+2 Bonus Points for Participation

Name of In-Game RP Character: Anneil Runsun
Job: Doctor / Nurse
Physical Description of Character: Anneil is a very slim and not very athletic woman in general. This circumstance doesn't disturb her beautiful features though and she's quite picky about her looks. The young woman's skin is pale which is a result of her indoor hobbies. Anneil likes to dress casually when at home, but is also able to dress up when necessary. Most of the time you'll find her walking around in her doctor clothing anyway. Her dark brown hair is very curly and wild and matches her green shaded eyes with a hint of yellow. The only remarkable feature is a small tattoo on her ankle showing the hermetic staff ( sign for medicine ).
Personality of Character: Anneil is the most introverted person you can imagine. She likes to be lonely and reads and studies most of the day. Company scares her because she didn't have many good experiences with the human race so far.
An just isn't able to react spontaneously and has to think about every single word she says before her mouth volunteers to speak it. She has never learned to be more than polite and friendly, because friendship seems to distract her from work.
But she wants to make a good impression on people anyway, because of her duties as a doctor. She's dreaming of being the perfect village nurse adored by everyone. That's why she likes to dress up and cares about her looks at all. Anneil literally lightens up when she's doing her work. She's able to make decisions and take care of people in dangerous situation without even thinking about it.

If someone is able to dig through to her heart, he would find a lot of love and despair inside, which have been hidden from the world since her childhood. Anneil is able to be loving and caring, but it would contain too much emotions for her to cope with. It's still unknown if it's possible, but miracles may occur.

Prompt #1:
Not so long ago, just before a decision and a village changed a young woman's life?

"Astora village looking for a doctor." Anneil mumbled and her green eyes were making their way through the paths of letters on the paper before her. A notice, just a small one, which made her mind confused and excited. Being one of the calmest during exams this feeling was quite new for the fresh medicine student.

Indeed she had just performed great in her final exam and was someone who may be called doctor now. After all she was still looking for a place to stay and an acquaintance had passed this paper on to her. She wasn't sure what to think about it.

"Mom, I've made my decision. I want to be a doctor later on." The young girl probably at the age of thirteen smiled as she came back home from school. "We heard this man talking about his profession today and I was astonished. I want to help people. I want to study medicine." Her mouth had problems to cope with her own swirling thoughts as her bright green eyes tried to meet the ones of her mother. The particular one was standing in front of the oven and was cooking for the family. She didn't even glance at her daughter and just sighed. "We don't have enough money for making you study. You'll take responsibility for the farm later on. You won't study, get those dreams out of your silly little head."

Anneil blinked several times and tears were forming in her eyes. She had parted with her parents for this dream. A young girl had covered herself with books and science to forget about her problems. But those problems would never vanish and Anneil knew that. She was afraid of people's reactions, their way of talking and chatting so carefree. She had always been different.

"You're pretty, Anneil." The young man said and looked at the woman who was seated in front of him. "Thanks, but I don't think this will help us with our presentation." It was a romantic evening inside the young man's small apartment and the sun was just making her way towards the horizon as two students were working on a medical subject.
She knew what he was talking about, but deep inside her heart a strange pressure arose. He wanted to force her into something she didn't want. Duties Anneil wasn't ready to take. She would never be someone's pretty girlfriend, not at all. She loved her studies and her books and there was nothing above them. She had given up home for them?he wouldn't be able to catch her and put her into a golden cage. But the presentation?she needed a good grade.

Awaking from another dip into her past, Anneil just shook her head and sighed. She would make her way no matter what would try to make her struggle. She needed no one, she needed nothing. Just?a bit of being herself.

Prompt #2:
I saw children being born lately. People laughing with their small companions. It was quite strange and confusing indeed. The parents seem to blossom and turn to their sun called child like idiots. I mean, they obey to them totally. Most of them. My parents were different. My parents hated me of some sort, which probably resulted my disability to be nice. I can be polite of course, but not for a long time span. If I should ever ( which is not very likely ) have children on my own, I would treat them differently. I wouldn't talk to them like they don't understand a single word. I'd explain and take care and write down every single step they do. Don't believe I sound too emotional, it's just what makes a young child grow responsible. I wouldn't want a child, who isn't able to make up his own mind. Obedient little brats are the worst thing ever appearing on the world's surface. It's their parent's fault, exactly.

I never wished for children though. There would be a man involved and I don't want to have a family. Family no, children probably. It would be so difficult for myself to adjust. I like to dip into another world by reading books and it would be quite a change to look after someone else. I like difficulties though, if they don't tend to ruin my life. Probably I could need an assistant for my researches.

Talking about researches, I'm really longing to get to know more about these Fae children. I'm astonished to mention that a deep desire inside of me began to grow since today. My head is longing for analysing one, deepening my studies. My heart instead wants to take care and wants to be able to help, when one of the other children is ill. It's a strange mixture of feelings inside of my belly and I hope they won't form any knots. Knots inside the stomach are awful, if your feelings can't decide.

So what if someone would ask me about taking care of such a Fae child ? I would be scared, but I would take my duty. I never ran away and I won't start doing so now. I can't say that I would love it, because I don't want to lie. Let's say : I would care.

- Anneil

+1 Bonus Points for Participation

Name of In-Game RP Character: Simon Barbair

Job: Blacksmith

Physical Description of Character: Standing at 6 feet tall and weighing roughly 250 pounds, Simon's head carries about itself a mop of brown curls, his eyes shinning a dark color to match. His shirt is tied at the waist with a thick brown rope, the sleeves being ripped off and the total length just reaching to the middle of his thigh. His breeches are a hard leather, his boots reaching to the center of his shins. The brown coloring of his clothes was first intended to compliment the desert landscape of his origins.

Personality of Character: He was a family man once, spending rousing days playing with his siblings and sitting around the fire for a good night of folklore. Presently he's more likely to speak when spoken to, save for introducing himself when the situation demands, and enjoys quiet evenings alone with his forge and an unworked piece of metal. Along with his love of his forge, he takes kindly to gardening and the practice of archery, escaping to these past times when the chance presents itself and his work seems the least pressing. Although muscular and not lacking the possibility of an intimidating first impression, his warm smile, soft chuckle, and genuine demeanor helps to diminish his rough appearance. Simon isn't the most comfortable in social situations, often feeling awkward and self conscious.

Prompt #1: She drew in a shaky breath before she spoke, her voice hushed and reluctant. "My son, you know very well the superstitious nature of our village, therefore my following words should not cause you confusion nor doubt. This region was not always barren and lacking of green. In the days following your birth, the clouds that had always supplied us our nourishment passed from the skies and the harsh sun would not relent from her shining. The land dried and animals began to die. The others were quick to blame you, but agreed to spare your life provided you were banished once reaching adulthood." Simon's mother paused here, forcing tears back from her eyes and allowing her head to hang. His nineteenth birthday passed only days before. He had been a true working man of the village for that span, and now he had to leave?
Simon opened his mouth to try and respond, but his mother interrupted him. "I've tried with all the power I have, your brothers too, to convince the Elders that this famine is not your causing, but they will not listen!" Her face raised in fury, her eyes gleaming maddly. "You have to run Simon!" She rose from her seat and fled through the hut, her wails still audible from where he now stood. Footsteps could be heard as his older brother descended the stairs, a leather pack in his hands. Turning, eyes cast downward, he shoved the pack in Simon's direction. "Take Millie. She's young, but will serve you well as a pack horse." Simon almost lept for his older but smaller brother, embracing him in a tight squeeze. "I'm too surprised to say anything sane for the moment, but one thing I know well, I can't take Millie. She's your sweet, if I have to leave, I cannot take all that is yours with me!" His mind whirled in confusion and shock, his whole life being turned upside down within an instant. Maybe it all was one big joke, a baddly planned and terribly mean joke, but what if it was a joke nonetheless? His brother wriggled from his grasp, placing the pack in Simon's hands. "She's packed and ready to go. Travel east, to Astora. It'll be quiet there. Rumors are it's deserted, on the edge of the Falsin Forest." Roughly turning Simon 'round, he pushed him out the door. "If you stay any longer, you'll only cause more pain, and they'll kill you. Go. It's the best you can do for anyone."
The pack grasped in his hands, the wind ruffling the straw roof, Simon managed to turn around a moment to lock eyes with his brother before watching him disappear back inside, his mother's continous babbling echoing throughout the stone streets. Millie stood tied up with the other villager's horses, the youngest of 5 months. She was already loaded with the hammers, clamps, rods, and pokers of Simon's forge. In dumb silence and confusion, he slipped the other pack containing God-knows-what over his shoulder, grasping Millie's reins, and led her away. Her freckled rump shone in sunshine, her otherwise brown coat, packs, and Simon himself blending in with the dry earth.

Prompt #2: 'Someday... I'm going to have a family. Settle down with a couple kids, a beautiful wife, and a hut to fit us all. We could play games together, go hunting... the oldest might even follow in my footsteps.' Simon's thoughts played around the idea of children as he held his niece in his arms, another niece pulling him down to her eye level. "Lemme see her! Can I hold 'er? I'm bigger now!" The girl groped for her sister, until giving up and running upstairs, shouting something about sharing toys. 'They're so cute and innocent! If I had a child, I'd really actually be needed by someone! The love that goes to a child can be matched by no other, and the love received can light up the darkest of minds...' He mused for a moment over the difference between a child's love and a spouse's, tickling the infants tummy and yearning for his next birthdays to pass so he might take a stab at his dream of a family. 'For now, I'm happy to have nieces and nephews.'

+1 Bonus Points for Participation

Name of In-Game RP Character: Roselle
Job: Writer/Calligrapher

Physical Description of Character: Roselle is a young woman of 24, with hazel eyes, long, unruly purple hair and an almost hourglass figure. She typically wears floor-length, flowing skirts, neat shirts, and a black jacket or cloak. Most of her clothes are purple or black, though she sometimes chooses other colours. Her favourite clothing item is a soft lavender skirt. She wears glasses to compensate for short-sightedness brought on by too much time writing by candlelight. She also wears a silver arrowhead-shaped pendant on a piece of black cord around her neck. There are often ink stains on her hands.

Personality of Character: Roselle is generally warm and friendly, with an overactive imagination and far too many books. She tends to be a little shy when meeting new people, but once the conversation turns to something she likes, it's hard to get her to stop talking. Frequently caught up in the imaginary world of her stories, she can appear naive in the ways of the real world, but her innocence is sometimes merely an act to avoid unpleasant topics. Playing dumb has gotten her out of many difficult situations in the past. It takes a lot to get her angry, but her temper is fierce, often surprising even those who think they know her well. Her greatest assets are her words, both written and spoken. She much prefers written, because written words can be perfected before they are sent out, while spoken words are uncontrollable.

Prompt #1:

The pen slipped. Roselle stared down at the resulting inkblot and groaned. She'd been working on this page half the night, and she really needed to finish it. She needed the money, with the landlady already breathing down her neck. Still, the damage was done; there was nothing else for it. Roselle carefully lifted up one edge of the paper, folded it across the centre of the inkblot, and squished. After a moment, she unfolded the paper and gazed at the inky butterfly now decorating the ruined page. She smiled and pushed it away, reaching for a fresh sheet of paper.

A bang at the door startled her, and she just managed to catch the inkpot before it toppled. Grumbling, she got up to let her landlady in.

The gaunt little woman at the door peered up at Roselle with an expression of concentrated irritation. "Miss Rose, your rent is late."

"I know. I'll have it by this afternoon-" Roselle began, but the old woman cut her off.

"This is a serious business, Miss Rose. There's no place in my building for someone who can't pay on time."

"I'm a writer, you can't rush literature!"

But sympathy for late rent was not in the landlady's repertoire. "I want you out of my house this instant!" she proclaimed. Pushing her way into the room, she snatched up a box of inks and made to throw them out into the hallway.

Roselle caught her wrist, sudden fury in normally friendly hazel eyes. "You will not touch my things!" she yelled. "How dare you!"

The landlady backed away, caught off-guard by the unexpected temper from her usually docile tenant.

Roselle glared. "Fine. I'll be gone in an hour."

"And what about my overdue rent?"

Roselle slammed the door.

The room seemed overcrowded, but mostly with paper. Roselle dragged her small travelling trunk into the centre of the room, piling in clothes, books, pens and carefully-wrapped trinkets. Last was the quilt off the bed, a beautiful patchwork of stars in a deep indigo sky, a gift from her mother. The trunk shut with some difficulty. It was too heavy to carry, but Roselle was running on red-hot anger, and she dragged it roughly down the stairs, throwing her key at the landlady when the old woman came to check on the noise.

Outside, Roselle took a deep breath. She had no home, no money... Best to be practical. She manoeuvred her bag into a nearby inn, ordered breakfast, and began a fresh page of writing. This time there was no slip. The calligraphy was perfect.

By lunchtime, it was done and she had her pay, enough to last a month or more. She jiggled the pouch of gold reflectively. The innkeeper had been talking about a growing town called Astora, out near the forest. It sounded nice. Maybe she'd find something to finally inspire her novel.

Roselle bought a ride on the next cart out of town.

Prompt #2:

The cart's stopped again. I guess the horses need a rest. I hop down from my seat, stretching my legs, and see three young children crouched around a bush at the side of the road, apparently fascinated by something. They've found a caterpillar. Cute. One of them picks up a stick to prod it with, while the others watch. Little devils, I wonder if they know how cruel that is? Or that what they're looking at is a baby butterfly? They may never know how short a butterfly's life can be.

I'm almost tempted to go over there, to sit down in the mud with them and tell them a story about the patterns on the caterpillar's back, pick it up on a leaf and let it walk across their hands. Children are magic - when you're with them you can do childish things, nobody thinks it's strange. So you can climb trees and run through fields and turn cartwheels. Anything at all. They give you a bit of their magic, and you can be young again, playing with them.

Growing up is a strange business, unfair. You lose so much, the magic goes away. But there's the chance... to make your own magic. It must be magic. Because who would go through all that pain, years of heartache looking for the perfect someone to help you create your child, months of agony as it grows inside you, if it was anything short of magic? I don't understand how mothers deal with so much pain. But you see them in the streets, and they're smiling, as if they can see the moment when they can sit down and show their child how to make a daisy chain, and watch them splash in the rain. I don't know if I could do it, but it must be worth it, to have a child to call you mother.

I want to go over there, talk to the children, tell them about the butterflies who fly too high, and live forever as bright stars, golden in the night. Just as my mother told me... I'd nearly forgotten.

I pull out my journal, running my finger over the battered leather cover, one corner stained dark with spilt ink. I think I finally have an idea for my book.

+1 Bonus Points for Participation

Name of In-Game RP Character: Maren

Job: Gardener

Physical Description of Character: At age 20, Maren hardly stands out with her petit size and her dark attributes. Almost every day, she keeps her hair out of the way in a messy bun, stuffing the long raven locks up and away from her neck. Into her deep eyes, her choppy bangs are quite messy and uncontrolled, causing her to always push them away. Her face is quite plain, her skin tan from her work in the sun with freckles dancing across her nose and cheeks, and usually she has small lightweight glasses on for when she needs to read. Her body is once again small and petit, her curves also small making her seem a bit childish at her height of 5'3", though her posture alone shows that people should not judge the way she looks. With her back always being straight and her movements always are speedy and skillful from her years of serving time in the gardens. Her hands, though as dainty as her form, are quite strong and calloused from working with gardening tools, though her fingertips are soft with a touch that is special to her.

Usually, her body is covered in a lightweight top, sleeveless and with a high collar. The top is dark blue with white trimmings, and is easy for her to move in when she needs to work. She just has regular black pants, loose for ease of movement and flowing down to her feet, where she has thin black wooden sandals. Usually, she has black gloves on for when she needs to work with the gardens. Overall, her attire reveals her relaxed state as well as her need to work and be ready to work at any moment.

Personality of Character: Maren has a personality that is two sided. Her first side is the outer one; the one others see her as when they look at her when she walks by. Seemingly cold and indifferent, she is always distracted with what is going on in her mind to pay attention to other things. It is this personality that she shows to the people who she first gets a chance to meet with, though usually she is polite and social, it is more as if she is holding back the warmth and just doing the bear minimum to meet and greet others. In fact, she would rather spend her time in the gardens than go to a party and meet the town, and so that is what she usually does. Hired just lately, she has only just had time to get to know the gardens, so she does not bother with meeting the townsfolk just yet.

However, in her long forgotten past in her hometown, Maren was known to be a sweet, loving teenage who would always smile and socialize with her friends and townsfolk. This is her inner personality, one that is covered by the shell that makes her look unemotional. This personality is one that takes weeks to find, for she hides it well. In her mind, she believes that a person should take the time to know all of her, and it is quite hard for her to warm up. However, once she does, she cant help but smile at everything, strike up a conversation that could last hours, and shine with a bright blush when she is caught showing too much of her sweet side. Maren's rough past has caused her to think twice about showing warmth and kindness right away and leaving her heart for the breaking. Instead, she is nice though not as outgoing, and waits for the friendship to build before she slowly reveals her true sweet side.



Prompt #1 Entry:

As she wandered slowly into the town, she could feel the soft spring winds playing with her long raven hair. She had left it down that day, knowing in her heart that she would most likely not be working. Right away, her eyes scanned the town as she looked over the land, studied the dirt and the plant life, and as she took a step towards the main houses her eyes still were glancing all around. In her gloved hand, a small rolled up letter sat, and her dark eyes finally rested upon it as she slowly opened it with her dainty fingers. She remembered not to long ago when she got the request to come work in the town as a gardener, and right away, she had to say yes. Her heart would not let her choose otherwise, the gentle tug pushing her to take the job. However, something deep in her mind cried out, causing a sort of weight to rest upon her shoulders. Her mind wandered to the ideas of what might happen, who might hate her, and if she would once again become a loner in the town that would soon be her new home.

Her hand clenched into a tight fist around the letter, her chin rising from when she bowed her head and her mouth being set in a firm line. She would not let anything get to her, for in her mind she told herself she had worked to hard to cower away in the shadows like before. Using her free hand to brush away her long bangs, she took a long, deep breath, her eyes closing. Ears catching the sounds around her, joyous laughter filled her mind as her eyes slowly opened, and she caught sight of children running around and laughing. As she watched the children she felt a strange tug in her heart, and slowly her eyes softened from their dark stormy blue color to a lighter, clearer shade. Her lips twitched, before the ends rose, and slowly, she pushed her hair behind her ears, her outlook on the town becoming much brighter as she made her way towards the place she would soon call home.

Prompt #2 Entry:

Ever since I could remember, I have always loved the earth and world around me. As a child, I would spend time playing in my garden than with the other children, my hands always covered in dirt by the end of the day. It was just an amazing feeling, to have the soft soil slip between my fingers, and when I walked in with my best white dress caked with dirt and grass stains, I could always remember my mother's reaction. It was her soft smile, the shin in her eyes, and the slow shake of her head that stuck with me all these years. She just seemed too serene to punish me, and always, she would help me clean up before sending me out once again, where she knew I would just go back to my heaven in which were my gardens.

Childhood was always such a sweet time, pure and blissful as every day was just a new adventure or a joyful game. Nothing seemed wrong when I was young; in my eyes, the world was as perfect as I was naïve. I guess you could say all children are like that, their minds pure and clean as they just laugh and play. They have no idea what goes on in the world, and are incased in a protected shell until they break free when they grow to adolescence. Their parents protect them from harm with a wall of love, such love and kindness that cannot be matched by others around them. A type of love I am very familiar with, and I strive to contain in myself. Every day, I strive to gain the ability to care and spread kindness like my mother gave to me, like my father used to protect me, yet it seems as if every day I get farther and farther away from that goal. As I see children around me, I wonder in my mind if I will ever be able to care for my child as my parents cared for me.

It is a dream that is only hazy, like a memory, and I only wish I could clearly reach it, touch it. My hand only slips through it, and I can only wonder why. Why can I not love like I was, why can I not find a child to care for, to protect, like they need to be. They are pure and naïve, defenseless and lost, souls needing guidance and protection that I cannot yet find in myself to give. I urn to find a way to protect them, as they need to be, for creatures so pure cannot be tainted so when they are so young, and I will work to let them grow the way they wish to be, with me keeping them safe and loved.