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Found 15 results

  1. Hi! This is a thread where I will share my fanfiction. I will be posting chapters of my stories here, as well as links to them on other sites. Feedback on any of this would be appreciated dearly! (Do note that this post may not coincide with everything I've uploaded to other sites due to the fact that I have other things in life. However, feedback on what's already posted here is still greatly appreciated!) Avatar: The Last Airbender Barbie Movies You can also find my stories at: https://www.fanfiction.net/~saeryen and http://archiveofourown.org/users/AriaSaeryen
  2. For my game that's currently in development, the backstory is an original story I've been writing for a long time. I have all the edited chapters up here on my Fictionpress account, but here's the first chapter as sort of a teaser/showmanship thing. If you like this story, you will like the game! Lisa's House: Chapter One -in which a falling star causes more trouble than not- Our story begins in a certain seaside town that was neither too big for a quaint lifestyle, nor too small for a bustling nightlife. It was like many other seaside towns in the world: the harbor was its life, bringing in tanned soldiers that strutted up and down the boardwalk each night and drank their fill in the nightclubs that beat an endless pulse into the otherwise quiet air. The fish market was an old-world style affair with wooden stands and fresh fish displayed for anyone to look and buy. The children played in the shallows only to grow up and leave each morning on the day’s shift, coming back at the mooring hour with aching limbs as they headed for their homes. One of these fishermen was the great Yoska, who was rumored to have counted five hundred pounds of fish as a slow day’s work. Yoska had three beautiful daughters, but before the youngest was five years old he disappeared at sea and never returned. Some say they’d seen the boat drawn in by a storm, others said that they could have sworn he’d headed out to open waters chasing a mighty fish as long as his boat. The more cynical whispered that he’d left for another woman in a place far from his hometown. But no matter what the reason, no one ever saw hide nor hair of the great Yoska again. His grieving widow turned to laundering and mending fishing nets as her way of income, and the three sisters grew up poor as dirt. Oftentimes this would bring young girls together; and while the two younger did hold a friendly repartee once in a blue moon the sisters were, for the most part, indifferent to one another. When the eldest came of age, she left to seek her fortune. She was blonde and had a dainty face that looked like the tales of Fae-folk, and for her full eighteen years she’d gotten by on her beauty alone. Two towns over, she found a rich miser who needed a young, pretty wife to show up at country clubs and charity gatherings; she never looked in the direction of home again, though if she remembered she’d send the mother a half-hearted Christmas card. The mother sighed with a broken heart, but the vain girl wasn’t missed by her sisters. When the second oldest came of age, she too left to seek her fortune in a town beyond that of a glorified fishing village. She had the dark locks and bright eyes of Selkie-folk, but unlike the eldest she had taken into mind that hard work and perseverance was the key to success. She moved three towns over and found work and board in a little restaurant owned by a very old woman. She stayed there, working nearly eighteen hours a day without a hint of overtime pay. She never looked in the direction of home again, but she sent half her earnings to her mother as supplement along with the occasional letter speaking of her hopes that the restaurant would be bequeathed to her in the event of the old woman’s demise. When the youngest daughter came of age, her mother had become too poorly in health to do much of the laundering anymore, and spent her remaining years working solely on the fishing nets. They could stay alive thanks to the second daughter’s monthly checks, but she couldn’t get around to town anymore. Her fingers had become frail, shaking as she threaded her needle to ply her trade. It was almost pitiful how hard the old woman worked, when she should have been living a life of ease with three daughters caring for her. So the youngest shrugged her shoulders and set herself to caring for her mother in the others’ absence, doing housework and repairs and arguing with the greengrocer each week over prices. She had no grudge over the matter; oftentimes she sat around and decided that should she have set off to earn her fortune, she’d have failed miserably. She’d never been much of anything, anyway: she was neither pretty nor ugly, and not incredibly lazy or hardworking either; the only thing she’d ever had going for her was her wits. This youngest, whose name was Lisa, could often be seen carting around mended nets to the townspeople or heading home with a sack of groceries slung over her back. She was taller and more spindly than either of her sisters, and she insisted on keeping her hair cut to her chin and dying it a frightful shade of blue that made all the old wives cluck and shake their heads. “That Lisa girl,†they’d say, leaving it at that. Everyone in the town wondered at her: though both her sisters had turned out well enough, fate had made her take life by the horns in the worst possible way. In order to keep from being bullied by the sailors and taken advantage of by stall-owners, she’d grown bold, cynical, sarcastic, and as foul-mouthed as a tradesman’s apprentice. And above all, the child was already able to knock down grown men of twice her size in a single blow and barely twenty-three! Oh, the shame Yoska would have felt if he could only see… of course, no one ever mentioned that if Yoska had not been lost at sea, Lisa would never have had to become that way in order to keep herself and her mother alive. Lisa was well aware of what everyone said about her, but she never found time to care. It was always one thing after another; it reminded her of the story of Cinderella and the toiling work the poor girl had had to suffer through. But Lisa didn’t mind the cooking and cleaning and rare street brawl. It was simply her responsibility to look after her mother, and that’s what she did. But she finally did regret her standards of living one day, and it was the day before it changed forever. _________________________________________________________________________________ It all started early that morning. Lisa arose before the crack of dawn, the way she always did, and proceed to dress. Her shirt was the throwaway of some sailor, and she had considered it good enough to salvage from the trash and reuse, as her previous one had been torn to tatters some time before and she was too poor to afford a new one. It was baggy and hung off one shoulder, but she was past caring. Her jeans were a Christmas gift from the middle sister, who had sent them direct from the city. They were her size, but as skinny as she’d become with working and lack of food, she had been forced to take a piece of spare rope and make a belt. Her feet were always, always bare, but she never envied those townies that ran around in the latest toe-pinching heels. She liked to bury her feet in the sand, and you couldn’t climb cliffs or wade around the bay in stilettos. The time before dawn was the only time she had to herself all day, and she enjoyed every moment of it. Stealing away from the little shanty that served as her house, she climbed to the top of the cliffs to watch the ships sailing out of the harbor as the sun rose higher into the azure sky. The early morning wind whipped at her uncombed hair, making it stand out in all directions, but she kept it short enough that it would never get in her way while she worked and so the tangles were always at a minimum. Once the sun had climbed up fully above the rippling waves, she made her way back down the cliffs and to her house, where her mother had already risen and was stoking the hearth fire. She kissed the old woman’s withered cheek and then prepared eggs for breakfast, cleaning up while her mother began to start on the day’s nets. Then it was scrubbing the shanty—which was cleaner than most townhouses—sorting through bills, counting the dwindling funds, and by that time her mother had finished three nets for her to take to town. On the way back she stopped at the post office for the mail, and that was where her troubles began. When the postwoman handed over the two letters, the topmost one stood out and Lisa stopped to read it outside the weathered building. It was a doctor’s bill, the latest from a long line that had been helping her mother’s arthritis and bad heart. The doctors all said the same thing—overwork and malnutrition—but there wasn’t much that could be done about that. The old woman refused to stop mending the nets, and there was just no way to get more food without stealing it. Pursing her lips, Lisa opened the second letter, from her sister. In it was the usual check for three hundred dollars, along with a little note wishing their mother a happy birthday and urging Lisa to kiss the old woman in her absence. Looking again at the notice, her heart sank; even if they went without food and property tax, there was nowhere near enough to pay the bill and collect the prescribed medicine for her heart. Blinking back tears, she ran to the bank and cashed the check before heading home. She entered, hiding the letters from her mother and instead placing the money on the splintery wooden crossbeam that they had ‘reutilized’ as a table. “So the check came?†her mother asked, her eyes lighting up as she read her second daughter’s note. “Yeah, I’m glad to see she’s still doing well,†Lisa replied offhandedly, moving to take the pot of stew from the fire as it began to bubble violently. She couldn’t afford it to boil over—that stew was supposed to last them three meals. “By any chance did my prescription come through the mail?†her mother then asked, folding the note and wobbling over to put it in the ripped cardboard box that held all the important papers. Lisa felt a lump in her throat arise at the hopeful tone in her voice. “Actually, it did,†she answered, reluctantly pulling the notice from her pocket and laying it on the table as well. Her mother opened it, reading it through and Lisa had to turn away, pretending to be busy with the stew in order to keep from seeing her mother’s crestfallen expression. “I see,†the woman finally murmured, folding the bill as well. Lisa turned back, not sure what to say. The woman smiled at her, though it was clearly forced, and shrugged her shoulders. “I think if I talk to the hospital, we can work out a payment plan. As for the medicine… well, I didn’t need it to begin with,†she said with another, less believable shrug. Her shoulder cracked and she winced, but continued. “That doctor only wanted me to take it as a preventative. But I’ll walk now to the post office and put in a wire to the hospital about the bill.†“Mother, I’ll go,†Lisa offered, putting the stew to the side and holding out her hand for the bill. The old woman shook her head, pulling on a ragged old coat to protect her against the cool air. “No, no. I bet you that they need my ID, so I’ll go. Sitting here all day isn’t good for my arthritis; a walk is better than any of that old medicine.†She patted her daughter’s cheek and then hobbled out the door, grabbing the old piece of driftwood that she used as a cane as she left. Lisa moved to the threshold to watch her, making sure she made it up the slope and onto the main road before shutting the door. She sat down at the crossbeam, picking at a stray splinter, and then burst into tears for the first time in years. She was usually too busy for crying, considering it a useless pastime that didn’t help things any. But now the full reality of their burden was sitting on her shoulders, and she couldn’t think of anything else to do but cry. If only there was a way for her to be in two places at once; then she could get a job and be there to cook and care for her mother. But that was impossible. As she dried her tears, one final solution came to her and she quieted herself before moving to the box of important papers. She dug around towards the bottom before pulling up a faded, crumpled note covered in phone numbers and brandishing it triumphantly. She hardly used the phone for more than emergency calls, and if it weren’t for customers calling about their nets she wouldn’t have one at all to save money. But now she was grateful for it, and dialed a number near the top. She picked up the receiver as she heard it began to ring, happy that her mother had decided to go off to the post office. She wouldn’t want the old woman hear her swallow her pride, something that Lisa rarely did. Perhaps that was even more rare than crying, in her books. “VonStraut residence,†a pompous male voice picked up on the other line. She faltered a moment, considering hanging up before the picture of her mother’s veiny, arthritis-crippled hands flashed into her mind. She swallowed hard, resigning herself to a task that, in her opinion, could no longer be avoided. “I’m—I’m looking for the lady of the house,†she said in a faltering voice, hoarse with tears. “And whom might I say is calling?†the voice asked. “Lisa,†she answered. “Her sister,†she added, wondering if the relationship might help influence the man. She hadn’t visited her sister, but she knew from the name alone that the man she’d married was very rich, and so this person must be a butler or steward. “Sister?†the man repeated, sounding genuinely confused. “I wasn’t aware that Madame had a sister,†he continued warily. “But if you give me a moment, I’ll fetch her.†By the sound of his voice, any confusion on her part would make him hang up the phone in a heartbeat. She sat on the line, heart thundering in her chest. So she hadn’t admitted that she had family outside of her mother. That was fine—Lisa had all but discredited her anyway, and if her situation hadn’t been so dire, this call wouldn’t be happening. But what would she do if her eldest sister refused to acknowledge the connection, and the butler hung up on her? Would she take it so far as to travel to the woman’s house? How, when she had no money for bus fares? There was a crackle of static on the other line and Lisa leaned forward against the wall, holding the receiver in both hands. A young female voice, quiet and well-bred, answered. “Hello? Lisa?†For a moment, Lisa didn’t recognize her own sister’s voice. Since everyone had cherished her for her looks, she’d always been a little uppity. But now, she sounded completely snobbish and high-class, not a trace of her old accent coming through the line. “Yes, I’m here,†Lisa answered as she found her voice once more. “Let me cut to the chase,†she added, her usual vein of bluntness coming through despite her uncertainty. “I’m calling about Mother.†“Oh, did Mama kick the bucket?†her sister asked, and while the tone sounded genuine on the surface, Lisa’s blood boiled as she caught the relief in the older woman’s undertone. She acted as though the woman wasn’t her mother, even calling her ‘Ma-ma†like some regency Englishwoman instead of “Mother†like she had all her life. “No,†Lisa hissed, gritting her teeth. I must be patient, for Mother’s sake. “But she’s very sick, and I need your help. I need you to wire me some money—five hundred dollars is enough, and I’ll pay you back bit by bit when I can. But we have hospital bills and she needs medicine desperately, and neither of us can afford it on our income.†“Oh?†she said again, this time not bothering to hide the disappointment. “Well, I see….†There was a long stretch of silence, and then the line crackled as she spoke. “I’m very sorry, but there’s not any spare money for you. I’ve already given away my entire month’s budget for charity cases.†“What?!†Lisa snarled, but took a deep breath to keep her temper in check. She bit her lip, and when she replied, it was in a tone of utmost politeness. “Did you not hear what I said?†she asked. “Your mother, the woman who gave you your life, is very, very ill. She needs medicine, and you’re the only person I can turn to.†There was a shorter silence this time. “Did you not hear what I said?†the cold, high voice on the other end repeated in the exact same tone. “All my charity case money is gone for the month. Now, your little lie about being my ‘sister’ fooled James this time, but be assured that I’ve already warned him: I don’t have any family other than my mother. If you try to call and disrupt my peace again, I will have the authorities brought on you and your organization. Good day.†There was a click, and the line went dead. She sat there a minute, floored by the fact that she’d been hung up on, and surprised at herself for imagining anything less. She sunk to the floor, placing the receiver on the phone’s base, and felt the blood rushing to her face. “You…you whore, you—†She cycled through all the insults that made the sailors cringe when used against them, but none of them seemed explicit enough to describe the sheer inhumanity of what she’d just heard. Her fury bubbled in her gut and she sprang to her feet, running from the house and down the beach. She didn’t know where she was going; she just knew that if she stayed, she’d break something in her anger. She needed to release the energy. The evening was gaining on them, the sun dropping behind the town and casting a crimson glow over the ceaseless waves. The kids in the bay turned and began running up the slope to their homes, the nightclub opening its doors to the first customers of the night as the mooring hour ended and the seamen disembarked onto the docks once again. She ran beneath the pier, jumping over shallow pools and sending crabs scuttling in her wake, seagulls taking flight with shrill cries as she startled them from their rambling across the sands. She ran until she was out of breath and stumbled in the shifting grains, falling to her knees. She was on an empty side of beach across from the cliffs, deserted save for a kissing couple on a wooden bench near the dunes. Her heart thundered in time with the waves, and she looked out across the darkening sky to where the ocean met the horizon. What was she going to do? What could be done? There were already collectors after them concerning previous bills. Her mother needed the medicine; she tried to stay quiet, but Lisa could hear her soft cries in the night when the pain in her joints kept her awake. Her sister—the one that cared—did all she could, but she needed money to live on too, and she couldn’t send more than she was able. That wouldn’t be fair to ask. Lisa would have taken three jobs, never sleeping, if it meant helping. But that wasn’t feasible—her mother needed her there to cook can carry nets and shop now. “Something’s gotta give,†she whispered to the first stars of the night, twinkling in the pink sunset. “I don’t know how much further we can sink.†The stars glimmered and glistened, but didn’t give her the answer she needed. She sighed, resting her head on her knees. “Why did I have to be the youngest? Maybe I wanted to go and find my fortune too….†She laughed bitterly, wiping her eyes. “Why did Father have to get lost at sea? Why did Mother have to grow old? Why did my sisters have to leave? Why, why, why?†She stayed on the sand for at least a half hour, watching the stars come out as the sky blackened towards its peak midnight color. Suddenly, one of them flickered and brightened, burning through the atmosphere as it fell towards the horizon and seemed to vanish into the ocean. She watched, remembering her mother say that to get a wish on a falling star, you had to say it three times in a row. She had no time to say any wish, but with her luck, her wish wouldn’t have come true anyway. She chuckled at her own childishness before whispering her wish. It would do to be seen talking to herself, even if the couple on the bench were too wrapped up in each other to notice her. “I need someone rich to come and sweep me off my feet,†she said aloud, in the quietest voice possible. “Someone who can change all this. But,†she added after thinking a moment, “make it someone who’s the good, lawful sort. Mother wouldn’t like it if a conman got us out of our troubles.†The waves continued their quiet song, punctuated by the groans coming from the bench, and the beat of the nightclubs. No one acknowledged her, nothing magical happened, and certainly no handsome man jumped off the boardwalk to land in front of her. Sighing, she stood and dusted the sand from her clothes, and began the journey home. “Tomorrow’s another day,†she muttered to the couple as she passed by their bench, but never could have guessed what sort of horrific day it would be. __________________________________ I hope you enjoyed that excerpt! You can read the edited chapters on my FP account, and be sure to stay updated on the game!
  3. NazoFox2501

    Story idea questions

    As someone new to the forum, I have a few questions regarding the literature section. 1. Can you post story ideas to see if anyone is interested in working on them? 2. Can these ideas be based off of something already in existence ("Alice in Wonderland", "Faustus", the works of H.P. Lovecraft, anime, etc.), or do they have to be entirely original? 3. Do you post general ideas, story excerpts, all of the above? If story excerpts, then do they have to be written as short stories or scripts? I would really appreciate it if someone, preferably a long time member, could answer.
  4. This a short I wrote that introduces Kotori Novellus and Ferra Schmidt, two playable characters in an upcoming game called Ardenian Legends: The Fall of Arcana. I will be posting this game in the showroom this Friday. Enjoy the story! Story of a Little Bird “This dream… It always starts the same way…†The somber crash of a church bell rang out in the distance, a portent so powerful in its arrival it resounded in the mind as if having stood next to the bell itself. This fierce awakening jolted a young girl from her slumber to a sight so familiar, and yet so uncanny, that it played with her mind to entertaining the notion of questioning if what she saw before her eyes was truly real. Was she dreaming? It was certainly the same room she had always worked and slept in, within the same house she had lived in for years, but this world seemed dark, distorted, and disconnected, in a way that simply didn’t make sense to her. It was as if she was viewing the world from a window, with irregular bursts of sound she couldn’t recognize, and flashes of images too fast for her to make sense of. The air was heavy on her shoulders, and a deep sense of dread skulked its way through every facet of this world she was engulfed in, but she could consciously move and react as if never having gone to sleep at all. It took some time to make sense of this place, but she could finally come to the conclusion that this world couldn’t be real. It was certainly a dream. The same one she’d been having for some time. Sitting up from her bed, she took a moment to look around at that this room which had become so familiar to her. So familiar, it was almost as if it was routine. She stood up and approached the door that exited her room. “I wonder if I can find that place again,†she pondered to herself as she opened the door from her room out into the living area of her house, her mind still getting used to filtering the chaos that continually toyed with her eyes and ears. Looking out into the living area, she could see the mess of books, papers and unrecognizable contraptions that littered the floor in its own form of anarchy. Her eyes, however, fell immediately to the center of the room, where a sword, as ominous as it was enchanting to gaze upon, stood as if suspended in the air, the tip of its blade just touching the floor. She knew she didn’t have much time. An instinctual will to survive overcame her as the menacing sound of a hundred screams cried out from outside the home, the walls beginning to tremble from being repeatedly pounded by an outside force. She rushed for the sword, the screams becoming more violent as the whole house rumbled. Just as her time was almost up, she reached the sword, grabbing it by its grip as the walls around her seemed like they would shatter into a thousand pieces. “Enough!†She yelled as she swung the sword around, bringing its shining blade to bear with both hands. Almost immediately, the house was still again as the screams faded away, scattering themselves amongst the chaos. The toll of running to the sword in this strange world showed with her heavy breathing as she stood there, sword at the ready, as if waiting for an undefined assailant to come. Having caught her breath a little bit, she lowered her guard and eased her stance. She couldn’t explain it, but as she looked at the sword she held in her hands she felt not as if she was wielding a tool or a weapon, but as if she was standing within the presence of an old friend. This friend spoke no words, but even without them she could sense its intent, as if the sword had a will of its own, carefully guiding her through the chaos like a parent would lead a child through a busy crowd. As one, they turned their attention towards the front door, where a presence began to approach. The girl anxiously raised the sword to a guard again as light began to show from the windows and the chaos was beginning to subside. Church bells ringing, she felt she could only wait as the presence on the other side of the door came closer and closer. “Kotori! I know you’re in there, wake up!†a woman yelled while banging on the front door, waking Kotori from her dreamy state. Sitting down at a table situated in the living area of her house, she lifted her head up from its surface. “Oh, I must have fallen asleep while I was working,†Kotori said to herself as she looked around. Drawings and schematics littered the table with her drafting tools. Still sitting there, she looked down at the paper in front of her to the sight of a large smudge on a blueprint where her face was resting. “My drawing!†A sense of panic washed over her face as she quickly tried to hopelessly work out the big smudge that obscured the central part of a new gadget she had been designing. The light of daybreak could thinly pierce the curtains over the windows. It would have been a quiet morning, with only the faint chirping of birds from outside, were it not for the banging at the door. “Ok, ok, I’ll be right there.†Kotori navigated the living room to the door and opened it, light from the sun greeting her behind the silhouette of a woman whose arms were crossed in front of her chest. “Oh, good morning, Ferra.†“You look like a mess. You were up late again, weren’t you?†Ferra paused a moment to take a closer examination of Kotori and tried not to laugh, “…What happened to your face? There’s a big smudge on it.†Kotori’s nervousness showed in her voice as she rubbed the back of her neck, “Oh, uhh, you know, I’ve been busy as a bee, and… Uhh… Stuff… “ “Nevermind your face, what happened to your house!?†Ferra exclaimed, swinging open the door with a strength that easily overcame Kotori’s grip of it, revealing a mess of books, papers and unrecognizable contraptions that littered the floor in its own form of anarchy. “Last night I had this great idea for a way to safely fall from any height and I just wanted to try a few things out.†“A few things?†Ferra sighed as the two presided over the complete mess that was Kotori’s home. “Well, let’s hear what your great idea is.†With Ferra’s words, Kotori’s eye lit up with the opportunity to show off what she had created. “The principle is simple. I got the idea from watching how the cloth on the windmill catches the wind.†Kotori moved to the schematics on the table while Ferra began looking through the various machines and devices lying around. “If I tie up the ends of a large cloth with a rope and allow it to catch the wind as I fall, it will slow my descent and I’ll safely–don’t touch that!!†Ferra froze for a second just as she was about to poke a strange device suspended from the ceiling. For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still as no one moved. Having stopped Ferra, Kotori then breathed a sigh of relief, “That was a close one. I almost thought that was going to explode.†“Explode!?†A hint of frustration showed on Kotori’s face as Ferra carefully slid away from the strange hanging device, “Did you even hear anything I said?†“Yeah, I heard you. I think I get what you mean: it’s basically a device that can slow down your fall so you can safely land on the ground. How are you going to test this device?†“I don’t know… Jump off a building?†“That doesn’t sound very safe…†“Yeah… I haven’t gotten to that part yet.†Ferra shrugged, “What would you even use this device for, anyways? Anyone working on the roof of a tall building can simply tie themselves down with rope, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen someone use Arcana to fly.†Ferra tried to talk some sense into her, but Kotori was already sifting through the papers on the table, “People will need it as safety precaution for that flying machine I’ve been telling you about.†“Kotori.†“You should see it, I’ve almost finished the preliminary draft and it really does look promising.†“Kotori…†“There are a few things I need to work out, such as power. I never realized how much power is needed for one of those mages at the Ordo Arcana to fly, it’s pretty incredible!†“Kotori!†A quick and decisive bop on the head successfully grabbed Kotori’s attention back as Ferra let out another sigh, “Aren’t you forgetting something?†A moment of silence passed as Ferra stared Kotori down, who could only offer a blank stare back. “You said you were going to help me build the blast furnace today.†“Oh, right, I completely forgot,†Kotori said quietly as she looked down at the floor, dejected for letting Ferra down, but a comforting hand reached out to her shoulder as she looked up to see Ferra smiling in front of her. “You are so imaginative, and I know you’re going to do great things, but this city is about to make history and you have the opportunity to be a part of that. So while you’re out dreaming about the future, just try not to forget about the people and places in front of you.†Kotori smiled, “Ok, I won’t.†Satisfied with her little speech, Ferra moved off to the door, “Well, I’ll be at the blast furnace. Once you’re ready meet me down there. There’s still a lot of work to do.†Ferra closed the door behind her, leaving Kotori once again alone in her house. “Dreaming about the future,†Kotori pondered as she sat back down at the table, looking at the schematics scattered across it. “I wonder what kind of future waits for us.â€
  5. crimson_arc

    All the Tears that Bled

    A Poem for Humphrey, in my game "wielding honor" (in development) the scar burns the past yearns the memory it haunts me my defenseless father my screaming mother my little brother and that monster I shall venture to the ends of the earth slaying monsters one by one until there's none if this is war then so be it let them come I'll destroy every last one of them send them back to the depths of hell obliterate their existence it's less than what was done tis for my mother and father come little brother battle beckons calls out our names to protect the living from the northern land to the holy land to the volcanic land any land, we shall stand they will remember our names send them back to darkness for all monstrosities shall know who we are and they will fear the brothers of Nordakai Mother Valhalla Smile down upon us as we plunge into darkness and fight for righteousness mother Valhalla Star of Water bring forth your tears as we fight for all the tears all the tears that bled all that was shed the loss of every child this is for them... ~The Mighty Humphrey~ By: Isaiah Barber All rights reserved
  6. Hello again, BluMiu here with another topic; this time, literature! Since I not only draw, I also write when I have the time or feel inspired. That can range from working on my project story to poetry (for when that mood comes along), to even random paragraphs and summaries of new ideas. Writing is where any good story begins and that goes for games as well. Sometimes before these developers know what a character looks like, they have the characteristics and background already in mind. All they need is a face to go with it That is pretty much how I started. I had the drawings and ideas in mind of what I wanted, but nothing written to go off of for reference. I started writing bios for my characters in 2002 and that progressed to timelines, terminology and now a novella. I would like to share some of that here with you as well as the occasional poetry piece. Not sure how many like to read but for those who do, I you enjoy and tell me what you think~ FIRST INSTALLMENT: Innocenza Innocenza is my first writing project and a side-story to Lost Children. It details the backgrounds of Miriam Gavrielle and Rema Merloci, the central characters that end up raising the future protagonists Dusk and Mila. It is a dark fantasy so some if not most themes are serious and mature, with some descriptive violence and other scenes that my be offensive to younger members. There is not much foul language used since I will mostly defer to what would have been appropriate for that day and age, nothing modern. To give you an idea what to expect, the setting is reminiscent of the 15th - 16th century Europe with the wonderful twist of fantasy and original imagining. It is not heavy in dragons and wizards, but does deal with magic and fantastical aspects of the Penumbra and the other Nisrian races. Even the Huema (or humans) are unique in that they live roughly near 200 years or more. I am an amateur so don't expect perfection though I am for it, let me know if you see mistakes or have honest critique that could improve the writing~ Now that that has been said; let us begin! *this will be broken into parts because of length and easier on those that have a hard time with long narrative --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter I Beginning of Sighs 142 B.E. Wes Border Mountains Viktoria’s sporadic breaths were as the slow cerise tides that carried the wind’s faint taste of copper, transient as a candle in that lashing waft. One eye had yet to swell shut, even though the world she beheld grew darker each visit. This room was her second prison whiles the adolescent body that had been without release from torture was the first. She would not remember this day as the one before or to follow, little difference was there when they blended into a seamless final hour. Viktoria had been awake too long with the incessant pain and so slipped again into her own world with iniquities not so dissimilar. Not even an hour had passed before Viktoria was called back from perspiration and feverish illusions. Either her heart pounded in ears with the approach of her afflicters had set the pace for her existence. Always would these footsteps soon follow with blows that fell like dull hammers, a lighter penance before the flesh was made to absolve in gruesome ways. The most terrible of all their instruments of torture was flesh recompensed with flesh, their violent rods like hot needles through an open sore unremittingly. This time the footsteps faded away at their height but fainted from the fright. Where she was incapable of concise thought when conscious, Viktoria was lucidly aware during the nightmare. Reflections of the ordeals endured meticulously. Each attempt to summon her mother’s face was met with a splotched and incomplete picture. Hurried images came in streaks of bodily blurs, making the same revolting howls that came with the monster’s animalistic ravaging. Sometimes she would hear the wind from the veranda in which she sat in her mother’s lap, looking upon the silver cliffs and the Penumbran blak towers that scaled them. As happy as it should have made her, it mocked and left a sense of sorrow that no terror could induce. The slamming of a door shook her awake like a tremour, a rush of adrenaline shot through her to where the pain diminished and her limbs thrashed about unawares of their condition. Snatched upright by the chained collar leashed to her neck, Viktoria trembled under his power. She was dragged the length of the bed until the loose shackling about her wrists caught on the wooden posts, straining the brittle limbs far as they would go and more. With Viktoria wide awake in a panicked state, her tormentor shoved her headfirst onto her knees into the bedding. She could see nothing save the filthy sheets matted in issue and filth. It hurt to move the tender flesh of her neck yet it was the only way to keep from suffocating. It was clear what to expect from every other instance that ended in this position, save the impatient haste it made to undo its trousers. Viktoria bit her fangs into her raw lips as the foul creature drooled onto her back from the display. She could feel the burning tinge ring round her eyes hard fought to suppress, still the tears escaped and left her where they mattered naught. The music box; there it sat on her small vanity table still, miraculously untouched in the ruin the monsters put it to. There Viktoria would sit and imitate the prepping she would watch her mother do before her father’s friends, colleagues and family came over. It was then or times she felt without a friend Viktoria would undo the latch to reveal the little dancers within, cranking the mechanism with her small key and the pronged tube would spin as music filled the bedroom. As Viktoria withdrew the decorative key from the draw and tuned the box one more time, her dungeon melted away before the starry night. As the serenade grew animated, so did the dancers, frolicking with her in the hills of a faraway dream world. They were to graceful to match and yet still Viktoria danced for as long as hard as she was able. Their long white gowns covered the field with light while the stars rained down like snowflakes in their hair. It soon grew so bright that she could hardly see. When Viktoria’s eyes did adjust, she was before a finely set table, golden china for every vessel, saucer and cup of tea. Sitting on either side these grand tables in their leather covered chairs were faces she recognized immediately. Yes, they were her beloved children, that is to say, her dolls. The farther she looked, the more of them that came into view, each come to life in all their splendor and immaculate gowns fit for princesses. Her friends had returned to her reborn from their demise at the hands of those foul beasts, now a fading memory in the face of such merriment. How they celebrated that their mother, caretaker, friend and sister had finally arrived. They stood and applauded with praise and laughter. Viktoria stood from her queenly seat and looked down upon her wondrous scarlet regalia; even her had been primed and curled just as she had seen in her illustrated stories. Best of all, across from her on the far end sat her most beloved of all, Stella. How much so alive did they look no more than sisters. Viktoria called out her name but there was no voice to be found in her. Maybe it was the great applause that stifled her since she could see Stella’s lips moving, her unblinking ruby eyes staring straight at her. Viktoria could almost hear her when the light enveloped her again and the hand of reality snatched her back with its grasp. What pleasure was this? She desired more to breaking her bonds and eviscerate the monstrosity than a moments escape. The graphic mutilation and disarray of a devil deprived of his glory fell like poetry onto the linen. Did it delight her? She could feel herself trembling as pain gave to pleasure in these thoughts. She recited all the curses her tongue could formulate. Even the lunges that buried deep like a knife faded to the arousal of revenge. Whether it had an inclination of this or not, the bastard snatched her up by the frayed strands of her head which threw Viktoria into even more pain. Gasping from the sudden agony burned down from her parched throat to her lungs. At some point during this ordeal she had stopped breathing altogether and the colour partially returned to her pallor cheeks. It pulled her close enough that the foul, hot breathe from the monster’s cracked lips flooded her nostrils. Through its membranous and bloodshot eyes it stared back at her with crazed intent, his sockets more sunken than they had been before. Trying to pry its stained fingers into her mouth without success led the cruel afflicter to rend at her netherlands and Viktoria screamed out in agony. Tautel was the name that Viktoria once called this now twisted animation. The gravuzie plague had claimed him and his madness led him to this excess of torture and mutilation. Just how long had passed since Viktoria and her mother had been imprisoned in what was once considered a secure home? This room was once alive with tapestry of red and gold, elaborate with a crezcutcruce embroidery. The vanity mirror lay smashed in bits and days ago forced to walk across them when attempting escape. The splinters of glass were scattered all about the doorway, broken glass not fazing these pitiless beasts in the slightest. Spoiled with so many porcelain dolls and handcraft, now a charred heap with figments of form. The two monsters mutilated them all before her eyes as their first act of breaking her spirit. Crushing their heads, dismembering them piece by piece. That was the deadly stroke to break her hopes for comfort. The death of her innocence followed thereafter, saving only her favourite few to watch as they took her under their blank stares. Stella. Precious Stella, her mother’s gift to her on her seventh year. Viktoria was only able to save her because the doll ended up shoved under the bed in her vain struggle against the man she knew as elderfather. After he had left her chained and violated, she tucked the last of her little ones between the mattresses. The whip, the brand, the scalpel, the collar which had become her new designation of character, these were her new toys to be acquainted with. Numerous times Viktoria thought she had died and entered a world of damnation. The concept was foreign to her but it made all the sense it needed to for hours passing like years. With a final thrust the creature’s foray, the nauseating sensation of fluids knotted her stomach as he quivered in pleasure. Viktoria bit down on the fingers clasping at her tongue, her fang puncturing deep into his index finger. Not so much as a howl of pain came from him, instead he snatched her head away and freed himself and struck a hard blow to the back of her head. Viktoria fell limp upon the bed as a few more blows landed and the creature rushed from the room.
  7. Here's a small piece of a... well, writing of mine that i'm working on. Your comments and/or corrections are as always very welcome Some rainy Monday i read in a tiny piece of paper an explanation written down with only two words. I froze. I didn't expected from her to end a lifetime with only two words; I started searching the streets in the darkness... On Tuesday i'm still looking for her, i wanted to say angrily to her that two little words in a tiny piece of paper aren't enough; but i couldn't control my wounded ego and at the sunset the first tears came into my eyes... Wednesday. The sun has risen, but the earth stands still for me. Two days now i'm looking desperately for her. The phone doesn't ring, i don't know where she might be, what is is this all about;... Suddenly i'm completely lost... On Thursday i cannot take it any more.. I return totally beaten at home to get some sleep. I open the door and see her right in front of me, smiling... "Baby" she said, "i was here the whole time. I just wanted to see how much your little heart cared for me"
  8. Cadh20000

    literature "A Tender Moment"

    I was helping Blindga here on the RPGMakerVXAce.net forums brainstorm for a character design for his game and Ellisandra came out of it as a side effect. I wasn't trying to make a new character for my stories. Literally, immediately after I came up with the character description I started thinking those two would go together. She didn't even have a name yet and I just knew she was going to be with Theran. It was like she emerged from the shadows, declaring that Theran was hers before she even introduced herself! "Ellisandra Fairehorn", or as her boyfriend Theran calls her, "Ellie"(I still haven't figured out where the "Fairehorn" came from, it just seemed to appear out of nowhere.) is pale skinned with dark-red hair that is wound up in tight braids around her head to cushion her helmet, coming down to her mid-back when un-braided. Her eyes are a brilliant emerald green. She has slightly wind-burnt cheeks and a scar running from her right cheekbone down to the point of her chin, just nicking the corner of her mouth on the way past. Her smile is tight lipped, never quite relaxing except when alone with Theran. One of the few people who can hold their own in the sparring ring against Theran. She started out as a street urchin. While her parents had a home for her, it was poor and her clothes, while clean, were ragged. But she learned to fight on those streets and as soon as she got old enough she emulated the guards patrolling the area who had always been kind but stern. They never assumed a kid or poor adult was up to no good and jumped the gun, but they never let anyone get away with a crime either. If you broke the law they arrested you, if you hurt someone else and it wasn't in self defense then they broke you. This made a strong impression and as she grew she would follow them on their rounds. When she was old enough she joined the City Guard herself. As her fighting skill and diligence proved themselves she was eventually offered the opportunity to transfer from the City Guard to the Royal Guard and she took it without hesitation. Ellisandra is a hardened warrior, the captain of the Corran Royal Guard by dint of her own hard work. Wind-burnt cheeks, callused hands, scars, and everything else, it is just part of who she is. A street urchin who was lucky enough to be born in a city where the guards are willing to give anyone a chance. A street urchin who took hold of that chance with both hands and through hard work was able to join the City Guard and work her way up to the position of Captain in the Royal Guard. She is no pampered hot house lily, that's for sure! But even so, she has a shy, girlish, side to her and feels self conscious about her scars. Wind-burnt cheeks, callused hands, scars, and everything else, it is just part of who Ellisandra is. She is no pampered hot house lily, that's for sure! I woke up this morning with this scene between Ellisandra and Theran playing through my head. Had to get up right away and get it typed up before I could forget any of it. *EDIT* This is Ellisandra's uniform: *EDIT - AGAIN* I am currently working on one that follows "A Tender Moment" as Theran is leaving the Guard barracks as Ellie's shift starts. The Guard who had first inspired her to join up is standing guard at the gate and stops Theran briefly to thank him for bringing back Ellie's smile, a smile he hadn't seen since she got that facial scar as a teen. Ellie comes up behind them while they are talking and reprimands him for gossiping while on duty and tells him as punishment he has to polish all the armor in the armory over the next week, in addition to his normal duties. Then her demeanor softens and she claps her hand on his shoulder and she says something along the lines of "If you want to reminisce about old times that is fine. But please wait until your shift ends. Join us for dinner tonight and we can all chat then." before she heads off to her office. Sorry the details are so fuzzy, I was thinking it up just before I went to sleep last night(night of December 14th) so they are kind of vague at the moment. As for Ellie’s facial scar, I’m thinking of having it so that she got it before she even joined the City Guard when she was still trailing them on their rounds. A thief almost got caught and as he ran from the guards she tried to stop him. He slashed her face open with the knife he carried but she held on to him long enough the guards managed to grab him, then she passed out from the pain and shock as the adrenaline faded from her system. She got the doctor fees associated with the injury paid for by the City Guard and received a recommendation from a couple respected members of the Guard when she joined. That recommendation stayed on her record and was influential in her transfer offer later on. This is Ellie's hairstyle, but not her hair color: This is Ellie's hair color, but her hair style: Her sword is like the bottom one of the two shown here and is sheathed at her left hip:
  9. With lives becoming busier and consumed with commuting to work or absorbed in work, activities, how much time do we have for hobbies such as reading? I know America's educational system continues to slip and more children are passed along rather than given attention, I know from experience and some research that English is one area that is hit the hardest. So many make it to college and yet have an underdeveloped reading level and I wonder if that plays a factor into the issue as well. Just how much do we read and when we do, what do we have time for? Are short stories immediate in gratification or format more appealing or do novels pull you in with detail and depth? I've had relatives and acquintances say that they have a hard time focusing for a period of time, thus reading anything beyond a few pages becomes challenging? Do short stories supplement that for you as a reader or not an issue? Maybe longer chapters seem to drag on instead of getting to the height of the event and lose you. What are gents and ladies thoughts and opinions on this? Which do you prefer and why?
  10. Vox Populi's Vault of Miscellanea video * photography * art * design * 3D * digital art * literature ~ a virtual theater and gallery presenting creations past, present and future ~ Update: 19Jul2014: I was so honored to have my photograph Fog of War II to be requested for the DeviantArt "A Foggy Day" gallery: http://a-foggy-day.deviantart.com/gallery/45978504/Fog-in-Landscapes FYI: my Deviant name is "VoxSpiritus" since VoxPopuli was already taken On DeviantArt I am at: http://voxspiritus.deviantart.com/ Update: 20Jul2014: Added "Eye of Ra" photograph. Update: 23Jul2014: Added "Bast Sphinx at the Nekopolis of Mau" and "Studies of ... the Flats". Update: 29Jul2014: Added "The Raven" to OP and two new videos ("Introduction" and "Change in the Weather") to the third post at bottom. The Raven WIP entry for deviantArt contest. Studies of an Old Low-Res tif Scan - the Flats : I know the 8x10 original is somewhere in a manila folder buried in a box midst the clutter of my garage <sigh> ... Bast Sphinx at the Nekopolis of Mau : One of the approximately Seven (or so) Wonders of the World incorporating conjured imagery atop an original photograph taken during the Egyptian Expedition of 2010 (inspired by drawing by Zenoa) Eye of Ra - Karnak 2010 : Remnants of a "giant's work shattered" by endless time beneath the watchful Eye of Ra Remembrance Stop! Four Horsemen Sunmist Shrouded Trees Sheba : colorization & studies of an old movie still Spectres : a video Prof. Archibald's Psychic Laboratory : a video and map design diagram for RPG Maker project : anatomy of a map
  11. lithkast

    Meet the Character

    This will be a set of four interviews to get to know the main characters of my game. it is essentially a fun little writing project Meet the character – I got to sit down with Arisa for a short interview. Here is the transcript Me: Welcome Arisa. It’s good to meet you in person. Arisa: I bet. I am kinda famous and all. So what’s on your mind? Me: well, actually I’m here to ask you that same question. I hear you have a game coming up. Quite a big role as the main protagonist. How do you feel about that? Arisa: I feel like it’s about time. I’ve been working my entire life to lead up to this point. It’s a pretty good feeling, even if the game is a small, non-commercial release. Me: Right. So this game is being called “Project Arisa†due to it not having a real title. What are some potential titles you’d like to see implemented Arisa: I don’t know. I think they could call it “Tales of a wandering badass†Pretty much sums it up. I’m not good with the naming thing so I’ll just leave that up to the devs. Me: I see. Well I guess you can’t be great at everything. Anyways another ques.. Arisa: Oh I’m sorry. Didn’t realize coming up with clever game titles was a prerequisite to being an adventuring mercenary badass. [sheesh this guy is kinda a jerk] Me: sorry, didn’t mean to upset you. Forgive me. Arisa: Its fine I guess [it’s so not fine. I’m going to get you back just wait] Me: alright so next question. So tell me about your companions. In the game you eventually end up traveling with Ashley Suthland, Garland Desmond, and Alex Kingstead. Can you give us your thoughts and feelings on them? Arisa: Sure. Ashley’s a B**ch, Garland’s annoying, and Alex is a jerk. Me: umm care to elaborate? Arisa: thought that pretty much summed it up. Alright fine, Ashley thinks she’s hot stuff just cause she is some “awesome†spellcaster. She isn’t that hot, I can cast magic too you know. She just thinks she’s so much better than me and she isn’t. Last time I checked, that b**ch’s name isn’t on the title. Garland wants to treat me like a kid. I’m not a kid, I’m 17 years old. That makes me a woman. “go to bed early arisa, we have a big day†“eat vegetables Arisa, you need to keep your nutrition up†“don’t forget to be nice in front of clients Arisa. They are our paychecks†God its annoying. Me: well, seems like you have pretty colorful opinions. What about Alex though. He is the leader of the mercenary group you joined. Why do you think he is a jerk? Arisa: Cause he is. You call him the leader but I’m the real star. My name is on the dev title for crying out loud. Does that matter to him? Nope. He always bosses me around! “Arisa do this, Arisa do that, Arisa don’t critically maim the client even though he was a total creep who was hitting on me and had it coming with those lecherous eyes and bad breath!†Me: umm ok so.. Arisa: God you’d think they’d have a sexual harassment policy or something but no, he expects me to just smile and let it go that the guy wanted to hire me for “bonus workâ€. I don’t care to go anywhere near his “bonus work†So what if I cast an Ignite spell on him once…or twenty times, honestly can’t remember. So what? He deserved it I say! But nooo Alex is like “grin and bear it. Get the job done and leave him to his own devices†That sexist bastard! He always lords his superior swordsmanship over me like he is some kind of god! It makes me so mad!!!! Me: wow..well umm another question… Arisa: What you don’t agree with me? Do you think I should of just “grinned and sucked it up?†Me: no I.. Arisa: so to answer your question, Alex is a super jerk. Me: alright then. So the internet’s attention span is pretty short, so I’ll finish off this segment with one final question. Can you tell us about one feature of the game you’re in? Arisa: really? That’s your final question? [sheesh this guy is so lame.] Ok you want to know a really great feature of the game? Well, if you press the fight button while I’m selected, and then press attack, something special happens. Enemies die. Pretty great feature if you ask me. I’m out, later! Me: umm wait! Man she’s gone. Well folks, there you have it. Hopefully you have a better idea of who Arisa is. Catch me next time as I interview another character from Project Arisa!
  12. Don't know how to delete. So, a blank page it is.
  13. This is an old story of mine. I wrote it for a friend who wanted a crossover done with her characters. Basically, Sebastian Jr. is her character, everyone else is mine, including Sebastian's family(she didn't give me much beyond his name, appearance, and general personality to work with). You can also find it on my dA account: http://fav.me/d5i3jov
  14. Spectre

    Domingo Fresh Produce

    A little piece I made awhile back to practice some literary techniques. Domingo Fresh Produce "Frolickingly fresh!" Picture this. A young, innocent Southern girl prances about open terrain, caressing each blade of grass with her feet, soft and supple, and a radiant pearl shade to it. She gently lifts a marigold from its roots; figuratively and literally, of course, and inhales deeply, feeling the freshness of cut grass, the dampness of the earth gripping her fragile little toes, the pollen that acts as a harbinger for the new harvest. The pigs and cows are delighted to see her, and gently hum and call in a naturally imperfect, yet charming, rhapsody. Butterflies cascade and waltz mid-air, forming intricate displays of color and coordination at its pinnacle of aesthetic beauty. The occasional rabbit traipses across the unbarren landscape, as the corn, an unnaturally vivid shade of gold, sways with equally unnatural synchronization. The fruits lay untarnished on their vines and branches, lacquered with a celestial fragrance, each atom chiseled into existence by the Muses themselves. Simply gorgeous, and I daresay, perfect. Of course, if you're naive enough to believe our corporate video, I'm not half sure how you managed to survive to this day. Truth is, I'm not half sure what that half-wit troglodyte Santiago Domingo did to fresh produce, or the lack of it thereof, but I daresay that bastard has some business sense after all. What was once a sprawling farm complex owned by a disgruntled Mexican-American now exists as a cross-state agro-economic zone. So much for that lovely field of carpet-esque grass. As for that girl, I'm fairly sure she's slaving away in a substandard brothel somewhere in the metropolis since she last acted here. I pass by an average of 18 specimen tanks on the way to my department. It's funny; you'd think that after 13 years, you'd recognize whatever godforsaken organism was untimely ripped from the hands of the Lord and pumped full of unearthly substances. I still can't tell if that last one was a chicken or some new breed of donkey. Heck, I'm starting to forget what a chicken looks like. Well, at least the pipelines and tanks are clean. The checklist I'm holding on to is rather unusual, all things considered. We've gotten our first shipment of organic basmati rice from Guyana since I first came in to fix the tanks up. Such a shame. It's going to last way too long for my likings anyway. Interesting though, I never imagined rice to have such a grainy look in conjunction with a nacreous-tinted sheen. Almost like little opals. Our chief export here is Chilli Cow Carnivale. It's rather ironic that they didn't add the word "con" in it; most of it is composed out of something that I can't quite describe, although I do know that the process involves bovine stem cells and bean substitutes. The end result is a rather translucent red gel. I would describe the taste as well, but as I mentioned before, I can't quite remember the taste of actual chilli con carne. I do remember it doesn't taste like gel, though. You'd think that a company relying on artificially constructed delicacies would never have a shortage of materials; I mean, heck, what does it take to create an artificial chicken or banana. Surprisingly, quite a lot. You have no idea the amount of chemicals and raw plant and animal matter that goes into each one. You'd reckon they have more plant fiber in chicken than in the plants themselves. It's funny, really. Life gets lonely working on the lab. We've had a few losing their lives to species cross-contamination or accidentally inhaling a new strain of ostrich meat stem cell. I've actually had one lab partner that I was particularly fond of - a young, energetic female of Afro-American descent who goes by the moniker "Springs". One morning, she walked into the experimental department and never came out. How very strange. What was stranger was that nobody really mourned for her. Maybe I'm just naive, but as time passed I grew increasingly desensitized to the otherworldly occurrences here. How very odd. They're calling me to the experimental department now. Apparently it's about some new protein substitute for their products. My gosh, these guys really need to stop using up our stem cell batches; we're running surprisingly low now. Whatever it is, they better know what they're doing... The subject was reported to have passed away in an unfortunate lab accident involving cross contaminated protein stem cells. Domingo Fresh Produce remains a multi-billion dollar agro-economic zone exporting only the freshest quality of ingredients.
  15. Kazuki_T

    Story Critique

    I was wondering if anyone would critique the idea of this story before I finalize it. Be mindful these are notes that i wrote so that is why they don't from a paragraph Synposis •5000 years before the story an Embeing and Human fought •This was the first time the two races made contact with each other •The two races tried to lived in a unites society but a rumor spread saying the leader of embeings secretly established a group to hunt humans and the human leader was hunting embeings •Both leaders confronted each other and ultimately got into fight. •This fight was dubbed the Clash of the Titans •Galto was the name of the Embeing and Selara was the name of Human •After the COTT each races second in command believed the other race was evil so both races made a wall to separate their side of the world. It took 100 years to make the walls. These wall are maintained to prevent decay •Since that fateful day the world divided into three sections •The Embeing side is more modern, the Human side is more futuristic and the Middle Ground (the area between the two walls is rural and impoverished. This is where hardened criminals, embeing on the human side and vice-versa. Main Problem: Both races hate each other and they are segregated if they are on the opposite side. Solution: Unite the two races like they were 5000 years ago. Present year 5000S S=Separation The protagonist's name is Felsia is an embeingand she sees the good in humans The male lead's name is Eliardo or Liard for short. He is a human. He also sees the good in embeings The deutagonist's name is Fensol he is an embeing who hates humans Embeings Values and Attributes •They have a mutations on their bodies that can change into anything, it is called an Emgene. •Hard working Humans Values and Attributes •Smarter and have advanced technology to combat embeing if they cross to their side •Selfish but dedicated Chapter 1 •Felsia enters her home after a date with a suitor (her brother set her up with him), but she is displeased with them •When Fensol asks her about her date •Then their father tells Felsia and Fensol that the meeting with the humans will take place this evening •Felsia looks forward to it because she wants to bring the two races closer •It skips forward to that night as the Felsia and her family and Liard with his family discuss a treaty to make a skywalk so the two races could intermingle •When the discussion ends Fensol threatens the humans’ lives Chapter 2 •Felsia intervenes by blocking her brothers attacks from his emgene •Then she uses her emgene to push Liard and his family out of the window •Then uses her emgene to lower them to safety then before she was about to confront Fensol about his actions her dad pushes her out the window •He says, “If you are going to help those scum you are no longer my daughter. •Fensol and there father planned this from the start by they didn’t expect Felsia to be involved. •Fensol became angry with his father and tried to attack him but their father subdued him •Meanwhile, Felsia goes with Liard and his family to take them to the elevator back to the human side •Chapter 3 •Liard takes his coat and covers her emgene saying, “there are some humans who are still not fond of this treaty†•When Felsia drops them off at the elevator asks for a human check but Liard’s father convinces them not to check the girl •When they get on the elevator Felsia gives back a guard slightly sees her emgene and sounds the alert •They shut off the elevator, soldiers start shooting at them, but Liard manages to rig the elevator so it would turn back on •Then at the top of the elevator the relentless fire continues so Felsia tells everyone to grab onto her •Then she jump off to the human side and create wings to flies away •Chapter 4 •Felsia crash lands in a forest •Then Liard helps her up after they land •They are in Alo Forest •Liard suggests they setup camp for the night, but Felsia insists they keep going •Liard’s father tells her she needs to regain her strenght for their journey back to Human’s capital city •Later that night Felsia is wondering why her brother attack the humans •Then Liard enters the scene to see what she is up to •He thanks her for what she did, then they talk about their views on the embeing and human conflict •Chapter 5 •It is the next morning, the group continues through the forest •They stumbled into a very rural forest based village •A guard from the village stops them •They say no outsiders can enter the village •This village led to the capital city •Felsia proposes that she fights the guards and if they win they can pass •They accept the terms of their condition •Liard seeing that she is being impulsive decides to help her fight.
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