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Entry!
Name: Writ Campbell

But you can call them: Wit, people mispronounce his name and it comes out like that.

God: Coyote (General Native American beliefs)

Looks: Writ's about 95 pounds and 5'1 in height. He's on the skinny side of the body type spectrum. His black hair is short, but incredibly messy, never combed or altered except for the odd haircut once in a while. The kid's skin has a tinge of brown to it, giving him something of a light summer tan all year round. He usually wears a unbuttoned pinstriped button down shirt, all the buttons unfastened. Underneath is a white t-shirt. Writ's usually seen with a pair of baggy jeans

A few noticeable things about writ are his slightly pointed ears, which seem to be growing tiny, unnoticeable sand-colored hairs on them, what's strange about that is that he can move them, not just wiggle them, but... Flick them around. Which just creeps people out at times. His shifty eyes have a yellow-gold hue to them, which don't seem to bother people as much as the ear flicking, but people are always looking twice to see if the light isn't playing tricks on their eyes. There's also a slightly discolored birthmarks underneath his eyes, if you look close enough, it resembles something of long, slanted lines. (They get darker as the stages progress)

How do their godly traits relate to their god? Well, Coyote's... A coyote. So Writ has some slight features of an actual coyote. There's also a story about how the coyote has slanted eyes, so his markings and his eyes are like that.

Personality:

The rebellious child, a teacher's nightmare, Wit is one big distraction, he just can't stand still and do work, he has to scream some random thing out loud or pull off stunts to keep himself amused, or at least break the monotony.

Writ's fun to be around with, he just has a sense for it, he jokes and knows what to do to have a good time. Even though sometimes that sense leads kids through dark alleyways filled with stray, rabid dogs at times, he's only 11, you think he knows better?

Let's just say "Compassion" is something that he doesn't have, or lacks of, anyway. Writ will go out of his way to help someone as long as there's some form of gratification in return involved. He'll touch something that's clearly marked "Do not touch" to satisfy his curiosity. Put a whoopee cushion underneath the teacher's chair for a laugh. Anything that doesn't benefit him is seen as pointless, and otherwise useless.

Writ's very friendly to others, even polite, despite his greedy nature. Unconsciously, he knows that one day they might help him with something, maybe friendship will protect him from scrutiny of some kind, it never helps to be prepared. There's also the fact that friends provided information, something that he wants now more than ever. He won't get into a fight if he can help it, there's nothing to be had but a black eye.

There's always a hidden agenda in his actions, a lie somewhere, a misdirection, a plan within a plan, plans that constantly change and adapt at the slightest impulse. He plays by ear a lot, manipulating people and things with a witty tongue and a skilled mind.


Background: Writ's parents were they were Middling crowd twenty-somethings that had an accident during a particularly lustful night, they were young, enjoying their prime, as well as the small fortune that their coffeehouse have made.

Now they had a kid to deal with.

His family was very lax about raising him. They didn't want him to suppress his creativity or something like that, they wanted their child to stand out, to be idealistic, grow up to change the world somehow. His parents were real hippies. They let him do whatever he wanted as long as he didn't try anything crazy like jumping off their one-story house or going across the border. They rarely yelled at him, even in anger, they reasoned with him, and refused to let frustration get the better of them. Writ learned to talk the way he does now through his parents, and learned a few tricks, in return, his parents learned some of his tricks.

Writ always wanted to go somewhere, he never wanted to stay at home for long, heck, staying in any place for too long made him uncomfortable. If it was a trip to the grocery store, he wanted to come along, just walking down the street was a good enough escape for him. He often went with his parents to their work, they just couldn't leave the kid at home. Often, he watched the variety people that came in and out, from the slummers that his parents handed out free leftovers to, to his neighbors that frequented the place, to the occasional high class rich. His parents would sometimes let him help clean up the tables and make some of the drinks, because you never knew when brewing a Mocha Latte would come in handy.

Then Writ went to school, and it was torture. Working on math problems and fill in the blank sentences wasn't fun at all. Even worse, they wanted him to bring work with him and do it at home. He hated school, because it was always the same old thing day after day. So he decided to do something about that... He pulled some stunts off, from jumping onto a desk and screaming "PINK MONKEYS!" To throwing kids' shoes on the school roof, to starting the school's first food fight, his pranks quickly became the talk of the school. It made him popular with many of the students, who only wished they had the kind of guts he had. The teachers on the other hand didn't laugh at his antics. He's so much of a discipline problem that he sees the principal at a regular basis, even if he didn't do anything. His parents said during parent-teacher conferences that they would fix those problems, but they've just been too busy with their own business to really do anything about it.

Right now, Writ's in a slump, he's done everything a kid could possibly do, he needed something new, something to satisfy his need for variety. That's when he decided he was going to be part of the game, it was mainly an urban legend amongst more informed students, but Writ was convinced that it was real, that kids like him were doing these amazing things that he keeps hearing about. With vague rumors guiding him, he's determined to join the game.

Writing prompt response:

Prompt B:

Wit casually strolled through the sidewalks Commerce Corridors, stopping occasionally to look up and marvel at the huge buildings. It was strange to see a kid his age wander the streets like that, but he was ignored by many of the businessmen and women, apparently talking in their cell phones about where to have lunch was more important than him. When someone would stop and ask where his parents were, he would lie and say that they were right behind him, they usually didn't press any further. What could you say? You didn't expect kids to outright lie their elders.

It suddenly occurred to him that maybe he shouldn't be here, at least, not in the open like this. He remembered the rumors he heard about the Upper parts of the city, about men in black suits chasing after kids like him, and when they got caught, they were never seen again... Writ paused and thought about this, then shrugged, and kept going. They were only rumors. He wasn't going to let a bunch of words scare him into hiding. So he kept sightseeing without another thought. Wit went down to the next block undisturbed, right until he bumped into a tall man, and he wasn't just tall, he was big, REALLY big, from Wit's point of view, he could easily be mistaken for just another office building. The giant towered over him in his plain black suit held by broad shoulders. The man's ominous presence that made Writ feel uncomfortable

"Excuse me." Writ said quickly, swiftly sliding out of the way.

The man only gave him a passing glance.

Writ went at a faster pace, he looked over his back, was he what the rumors were talking about? Perhaps he had a right to be scared, the man was following him.

Wit didn't need any second beckoning, he ran into a large crowd of people crossing the street. He looked behind him again and sighed with relief. Lost him.

He went along with the crowd, and stayed in the cluster until everyone dispersed in their respective buildings. It was not even a second until the man in the same black suit appeared. Their eyes met, and Writ's eyes widened, this was no rumor, the man really does follow you.

There was only one thing he could do, run. Where? He didn't know, he just knew that he needed to lose that man. He struck an idea, digging back into something he learned back in first grade... He went up to a random woman, she looked nice, she wore a business suit like most people in the Commence Corridor. Probably going to a big meeting of some kind. He went up to her.

"Um, could you hide me?" He asked, in the sweetest voice he could, pulling at her sleeve.

The woman took a moment to find the source of the voice, then she looked down on Writ, "What is it?"

"There's.... There's a bad man following me." Wit said, pointing to the blacksuit.

A lesson he learned in school is that when a adult is being mean to you, you should go to another adult and tell them, preferably a policeman or your parents. Nether of them being there at the moment, Writ had to settle for a complete stranger.

The woman looked at the man in black.

"That tall man over there?"

Wit nodded urgently, the look of true fear in his eyes.

She looked at Writ with a calculating eye of a self-made businesswomen before she said, "Hold my hand."

He obeyed, not having much of a choice at the moment. The lady dragged him block after block, until it looked like that they had lost him. They took a second pause to catch their breath, but there he was, right in front of them.

The lady only gave him a look.

"What do you think you're doing with my son?!" She yelled, the outraged tone of her voice already attracting a onlooker or two.

She didn't stop there, the guy got pummeled by words, apparently at the mercy of the woman, the amount of onlookers grew larger and larger, people were taking pictures as if this was some kind of street performance. Writ was looking on in awe himself, his mouth wide open. The lady used words that he didn't know, but he just knew that they were harsh, he wanted to do that, to beat people with words like her.

When she was done, the man just ran. The woman straightened her tie and a round of applause and cheers erupted from the crowd, she made a small bow before dragging Writ and herself off from the scene...

Wit smiled, "You talk really good!" he said to the stranger.

"Speak well." The woman corrected him, "And thank you."

"How do I do it?"

The woman paused, and said, "When you have to fight your way up a corporate ladder full of Neanderthals, it comes naturally."

Wit didn't have any idea what that meant, but he kept that in mind.

"Where are your parents?" She asked, looking back to see if that man was still there.

"They run the coffee shop at the corner of Mid and Cor." He responded truthfully.

"I'll walk you over there" The lady said, "Just be careful next time, I won't always be around to save you from the bad men."

Entry!
Name: Justin Bursar

But you can call them: Jubs

God: Hermes, Messenger of the Gods, God of Athletics, Travel, and Thieves, among others

Looks: Jubs is a little short, around 4'5". He has long, scraggly brown hair, which is usually pulled back and held in a ponytail with a dirty strip of cloth. His features have a slightly angular quality to them, including a hawkish nose, which gives him a predatory look. His eyes are a normal brown, but have an intense glare to them. He has a lean build, though it's more because he's underfed than because of a natural build. The clothes he wears are very dirty, and have several tears in them.

Instead of normal human feet, he has paws, complete with blunt claws, similar to a greyhound or cheetah, though they have no fur, and are the same color as the rest of his skin. There are pads on the bottom of his paws, which are tough enough to handle running through the city without causing injury. Because of this, Jubs has no need for shoes, not that he could find any to fit him anyways. On his ankles, and on the sides of his head, there are small white and brown feathers growing.

How do their godly traits relate to their god? Hermes was the Messenger of the Gods, unsurpassed in speed. Jubs' feet give him better traction, and are more suited to running than a normal plantigrade human foot. He can run extremely fast for a human, and he doesn't get tired from it as others might. Hermes was always depicted wearing a winged hat and winged sandals, and the feathers growing on Jubs imitate this.

Personality: After being abandoned by anyone he has ever put his trust in, Jubs has become bitter and angry, far beyond his years. He's come to despise the normal humans, envying their natural forms. Having lived in the slums for so long, he is devoid of manners and tact, and will do whatever is necessary to survive. While still living with his gang, he had made some good friends, and but after being kicked out, he broke all contact, even with those who had spoken up for him. Most people will find him quiet and sullen, waiting for an opportunity to leave their presence, and glaring daggers at their backs.

Background: Jubs was born to the Rich, and for the first four-five years of his life, lived in privilege. It was then that he started to manifest the traits of his God. More concerned with their appearance than with the welfare of their son, Jubs' parents dropped him off in Middling one night. Left to fend for himself at such a young age, he wouldn't have lasted long were it not for a gang of street urchins that took him in. Despite his physical deformities, he was welcomed into the gang, and soon found a place stealing food, using his incredible speed to his advantage. It was there he was nicknamed Jubs, a combination of his first and last name. For several years he lived with them, eking out an existence in the Downers, which could almost be said to be pleasant, or at least as pleasant as it could be down there. Recently though, the Blacksuits had begun to follow rumors of small boy with inhuman feet, which started to point to the gang. Finding it increasingly difficult to obtain food due to the presence of the Blacksuits, the gang decided that Jubs leaving was they only way the rest of them could survive. And so Jubs has once again found himself ousted due to his appearance, this time from the lowest dregs of society. What then did that make him?

Writing prompt response: Prompt B.

He was running. He was always running; it sometimes seemed to him as though that was what he had been doing his whole life. Of course, this time was different. They'd set a trap for him, the Blacksuits. It had been a while since he had made a run into the Uppers, but the vendors in Middling had gotten wise to him, and packed up their goods as soon as he was spotted. Now hunger had driven him to the Uppers, something he would never normally attempt on his own, but it wasn't exactly as though he had allies he could go with.

They'd been waiting for him, set up in a false vendor shop. Someone from his old gang must have tipped them off, the b*****d. As soon as he'd grabbed a piece of bread, several Blacksuits had appeared as if out of nowhere, and gave chase. He was faster than all of them of course, his strange feet and unnatural vitality saw to that. But it was an area he was unfamiliar with, and he'd quickly become lost. It became apparent that they were herding him, blocking off any routes that would lead back to the Downers, and forcing him to go where they wanted him to go. Nearly every time he turned a corner, there was one waiting for him. Luckily for him, there was a new house under construction, and he was able to slip in through a hole in the fence.

There was a small alcove formed by some stacked blocks of stone he was able to squeeze into, and for a long time he hid there. After several hours, it seemed as though he had eluded capture. Thinking himself free and clear, he made his way towards the hole he came in by, only to be spotted by a Blacksuit that was engaged in searching the construction site. Jubs felt a pang of hopelessness as he realized he would be caught before he could work his way all the way through the hole in the fence. The Blacksuit slowly advanced, forcing Jubs into a corner. Soon he found his back to a wall, and in vain his hands searched for some sort of exit. What his questing hands found instead was a heavy length of lead pipe leaning against the wall. Deciding the only way to escape was to fight, he suddenly grasped the pipe and ran forward with a cry. The blow landed on the Blacksuit's face, who was too surprised by the sudden rush to react. Powered by Jubs' quick running and years of abuse on the street, the Blacksuit was dead before he hit the ground. Jubs didn't stop there, and continued to be the Blacksuit until it was unrecognizable as human.

Breathing heavily, Jubs dragged the heavy pipe behind him, away from the construction site. As soon as he was free of the fence, he once again began to run, back towards the Downers, Back where he could be alone again.