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Here is a writing sample of mine, just a short story I wrote about one of my characters:
“Do you knit?”
“No, Mr. Minami.”
“Crochet? Spin?”
“No, Mr. Minami.”
“Play any instruments?”
He cleared his throat, a bit irritably. “No, Mr. Minami.”
“Do you make anything with your hands at all?”
“Hah! Only money, Mr. Minami.”
Hugh Blackwell, captain of one of many hundreds of Jun Minami’s courier ships, had been summoned to Jun’s home in Alamar—one of many homes across the Lower Continents. Most business meetings were held at the teahouses, and more often than not, Jun didn’t even attend them himself. This man, in particular, had been a courier for ten years and had never personally met with him. To be invited to his house was an honor afforded to very few.
“Hm. It’s a shame,” said Jun from behind a silk dressing curtain. Smoke billowed upward from his silhouette. “Having something to do with your hands reduces stress. Have you been under a lot of stress lately?”
Hugh once again cleared his throat. “Sir… Respectfully… what’s all this about?”
“I don’t think you meant any respect at all, Captain… whatever your name is. But I’ll overlook that. After all, I’m certain you have better things to be doing than being bombarded by questions in the house of the most powerful being on the Lower Continents.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Shut up,” Jun said airily, waving his hand as if to bat away a fly. “You know, you’ve been working for me for many years—by your tiny calendar at any rate—and you still have never met me. Funny, isn’t it. Do you even know my name?”
Hugh chuckled. “It’s Jun Minami.”
“Wow,” Jun drawled. “If you honestly thought that was my real name, you’re stupider than I’d thought. But never mind that. I didn’t bring you here merely to insult you.”
Hugh was beginning to suspect something about this meeting was very wrong.
“You know, the first time it came to my attention that the number of crates you brought me didn’t add up to the number of crates on the shipping docket, I decided to overlook it. After all, being one of my couriers must be very stressful.”
Hugh’s heart skipped a beat. He had to get out of this place—now. He turned around to run, but he found himself surrounded by men dressed in the garb of the Onniban group of atheistic monks, who devoted themselves only to the many styles of bare-handed fighting as though that were their god: The Black Claws. Hugh began to tremble.
“The second time the numbers didn’t add up, I attributed it to a simple mistake. After all, the incidences were years in between—surely you weren’t stupid enough to steal from me. This third time, however, I decided to do some research about you. You know, the funny thing is, your crew doesn’t work for you. They work for me. And do you know what I found out about you? That you don’t have any family of your own. No wife, to soothe the aches and pains of working on a skyship. No children to adore everything you do, and to draw you pictures of the world as they see it.” Jun paused to pick up an opium pipe and take several small puffs, then one long drag, before setting it down again. “No one to miss you.”
“Wait! Please, I-I—” Hugh began, but he found himself suddenly unable to speak. It was as if the air around him had become a dead zone for any sound to escape across.
“Very few people know my real name, anymore. Only close friends, actually.” Jun stood up, and Hugh turned once again to try to make a run for it, no matter how irrational the thought of flight. The Black Claws caught him by the arms and forced him to his knees, facing Jun, who now approached. He was much shorter than the stories went, and blonde—nothing at all like the way he’d been described. “You, however, will be permitted into that small group, only because I know that after today, you won’t be able to share that information.”
Still unable to speak, Hugh shook his head, tears suddenly springing to his eyes. This was it, Hugh was done for, for sure—this man truly was as ruthless as people said.
Jun rolled his eyes. “Oh, you won’t be killed. I hate having to replace my workers. But… you will be punished.” As he got closer, Hugh noticed something odd about Jun. His eyes were two different colors. Not only that, he had slender, pointed ears, and the facial features of a teenage boy. If he was a Ralada, he was a very strange-looking one.
He stopped and knelt in front of Hugh, then grabbed him by the face, suddenly the picture of rage. Hugh struggled uselessly to wrench himself free. This wasn’t going to end well for him.
“My name is Risal the Seer, Secondborn Godseed of Rala. I am the most powerful mage beneath the Floating Islands, and second in the world only to the Eternal King. I have eyes and ears everywhere, and if I ever hear anything about you again, remember who it is you’re really working for—and who it is you’re stealing from.” He released Hugh’s face and stood up, looking at one of the Black Claws. “Cut out his tongue.”
“Do you knit?”
“No, Mr. Minami.”
“Crochet? Spin?”
“No, Mr. Minami.”
“Play any instruments?”
He cleared his throat, a bit irritably. “No, Mr. Minami.”
“Do you make anything with your hands at all?”
“Hah! Only money, Mr. Minami.”
Hugh Blackwell, captain of one of many hundreds of Jun Minami’s courier ships, had been summoned to Jun’s home in Alamar—one of many homes across the Lower Continents. Most business meetings were held at the teahouses, and more often than not, Jun didn’t even attend them himself. This man, in particular, had been a courier for ten years and had never personally met with him. To be invited to his house was an honor afforded to very few.
“Hm. It’s a shame,” said Jun from behind a silk dressing curtain. Smoke billowed upward from his silhouette. “Having something to do with your hands reduces stress. Have you been under a lot of stress lately?”
Hugh once again cleared his throat. “Sir… Respectfully… what’s all this about?”
“I don’t think you meant any respect at all, Captain… whatever your name is. But I’ll overlook that. After all, I’m certain you have better things to be doing than being bombarded by questions in the house of the most powerful being on the Lower Continents.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Shut up,” Jun said airily, waving his hand as if to bat away a fly. “You know, you’ve been working for me for many years—by your tiny calendar at any rate—and you still have never met me. Funny, isn’t it. Do you even know my name?”
Hugh chuckled. “It’s Jun Minami.”
“Wow,” Jun drawled. “If you honestly thought that was my real name, you’re stupider than I’d thought. But never mind that. I didn’t bring you here merely to insult you.”
Hugh was beginning to suspect something about this meeting was very wrong.
“You know, the first time it came to my attention that the number of crates you brought me didn’t add up to the number of crates on the shipping docket, I decided to overlook it. After all, being one of my couriers must be very stressful.”
Hugh’s heart skipped a beat. He had to get out of this place—now. He turned around to run, but he found himself surrounded by men dressed in the garb of the Onniban group of atheistic monks, who devoted themselves only to the many styles of bare-handed fighting as though that were their god: The Black Claws. Hugh began to tremble.
“The second time the numbers didn’t add up, I attributed it to a simple mistake. After all, the incidences were years in between—surely you weren’t stupid enough to steal from me. This third time, however, I decided to do some research about you. You know, the funny thing is, your crew doesn’t work for you. They work for me. And do you know what I found out about you? That you don’t have any family of your own. No wife, to soothe the aches and pains of working on a skyship. No children to adore everything you do, and to draw you pictures of the world as they see it.” Jun paused to pick up an opium pipe and take several small puffs, then one long drag, before setting it down again. “No one to miss you.”
“Wait! Please, I-I—” Hugh began, but he found himself suddenly unable to speak. It was as if the air around him had become a dead zone for any sound to escape across.
“Very few people know my real name, anymore. Only close friends, actually.” Jun stood up, and Hugh turned once again to try to make a run for it, no matter how irrational the thought of flight. The Black Claws caught him by the arms and forced him to his knees, facing Jun, who now approached. He was much shorter than the stories went, and blonde—nothing at all like the way he’d been described. “You, however, will be permitted into that small group, only because I know that after today, you won’t be able to share that information.”
Still unable to speak, Hugh shook his head, tears suddenly springing to his eyes. This was it, Hugh was done for, for sure—this man truly was as ruthless as people said.
Jun rolled his eyes. “Oh, you won’t be killed. I hate having to replace my workers. But… you will be punished.” As he got closer, Hugh noticed something odd about Jun. His eyes were two different colors. Not only that, he had slender, pointed ears, and the facial features of a teenage boy. If he was a Ralada, he was a very strange-looking one.
He stopped and knelt in front of Hugh, then grabbed him by the face, suddenly the picture of rage. Hugh struggled uselessly to wrench himself free. This wasn’t going to end well for him.
“My name is Risal the Seer, Secondborn Godseed of Rala. I am the most powerful mage beneath the Floating Islands, and second in the world only to the Eternal King. I have eyes and ears everywhere, and if I ever hear anything about you again, remember who it is you’re really working for—and who it is you’re stealing from.” He released Hugh’s face and stood up, looking at one of the Black Claws. “Cut out his tongue.”
Here is a writing sample of mine, just a short story I wrote about one of my characters:
“Do you knit?”
“No, Mr. Minami.”
“Crochet? Spin?”
“No, Mr. Minami.”
“Play any instruments?”
He cleared his throat, a bit irritably. “No, Mr. Minami.”
“Do you make anything with your hands at all?”
“Hah! Only money, Mr. Minami.”
Hugh Blackwell, captain of one of many hundreds of Jun Minami’s courier ships, had been summoned to Jun’s home in Alamar—one of many homes across the Lower Continents. Most business meetings were held at the teahouses, and more often than not, Jun didn’t even attend them himself. This man, in particular, had been a courier for ten years and had never personally met with him. To be invited to his house was an honor afforded to very few.
“Hm. It’s a shame,” said Jun from behind a silk dressing curtain. Smoke billowed upward from his silhouette. “Having something to do with your hands reduces stress. Have you been under a lot of stress lately?”
Hugh once again cleared his throat. “Sir… Respectfully… what’s all this about?”
“I don’t think you meant any respect at all, Captain… whatever your name is. But I’ll overlook that. After all, I’m certain you have better things to be doing than being bombarded by questions in the house of the most powerful being on the Lower Continents.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Shut up,” Jun said airily, waving his hand as if to bat away a fly. “You know, you’ve been working for me for many years—by your tiny calendar at any rate—and you still have never met me. Funny, isn’t it. Do you even know my name?”
Hugh chuckled. “It’s Jun Minami.”
“Wow,” Jun drawled. “If you honestly thought that was my real name, you’re stupider than I’d thought. But never mind that. I didn’t bring you here merely to insult you.”
Hugh was beginning to suspect something about this meeting was very wrong.
“You know, the first time it came to my attention that the number of crates you brought me didn’t add up to the number of crates on the shipping docket, I decided to overlook it. After all, being one of my couriers must be very stressful.”
Hugh’s heart skipped a beat. He had to get out of this place—now. He turned around to run, but he found himself surrounded by men dressed in the garb of the Onniban group of atheistic monks, who devoted themselves only to the many styles of bare-handed fighting as though that were their god: The Black Claws. Hugh began to tremble.
“The second time the numbers didn’t add up, I attributed it to a simple mistake. After all, the incidences were years in between—surely you weren’t stupid enough to steal from me. This third time, however, I decided to do some research about you. You know, the funny thing is, your crew doesn’t work for you. They work for me. And do you know what I found out about you? That you don’t have any family of your own. No wife, to soothe the aches and pains of working on a skyship. No children to adore everything you do, and to draw you pictures of the world as they see it.” Jun paused to pick up an opium pipe and take several small puffs, then one long drag, before setting it down again. “No one to miss you.”
“Wait! Please, I-I—” Hugh began, but he found himself suddenly unable to speak. It was as if the air around him had become a dead zone for any sound to escape across.
“Very few people know my real name, anymore. Only close friends, actually.” Jun stood up, and Hugh turned once again to try to make a run for it, no matter how irrational the thought of flight. The Black Claws caught him by the arms and forced him to his knees, facing Jun, who now approached. He was much shorter than the stories went, and blonde—nothing at all like the way he’d been described. “You, however, will be permitted into that small group, only because I know that after today, you won’t be able to share that information.”
Still unable to speak, Hugh shook his head, tears suddenly springing to his eyes. This was it, Hugh was done for, for sure—this man truly was as ruthless as people said.
Jun rolled his eyes. “Oh, you won’t be killed. I hate having to replace my workers. But… you will be punished.” As he got closer, Hugh noticed something odd about Jun. His eyes were two different colors. Not only that, he had slender, pointed ears, and the facial features of a teenage boy. If he was a Ralada, he was a very strange-looking one.
He stopped and knelt in front of Hugh, then grabbed him by the face, suddenly the picture of rage. Hugh struggled uselessly to wrench himself free. This wasn’t going to end well for him.
“My name is Risal the Seer, Secondborn Godseed of Rala. I am the most powerful mage beneath the Floating Islands, and second in the world only to the Eternal King. I have eyes and ears everywhere, and if I ever hear anything about you again, remember who it is you’re really working for—and who it is you’re stealing from.” He released Hugh’s face and stood up, looking at one of the Black Claws. “Cut out his tongue.”
“Do you knit?”
“No, Mr. Minami.”
“Crochet? Spin?”
“No, Mr. Minami.”
“Play any instruments?”
He cleared his throat, a bit irritably. “No, Mr. Minami.”
“Do you make anything with your hands at all?”
“Hah! Only money, Mr. Minami.”
Hugh Blackwell, captain of one of many hundreds of Jun Minami’s courier ships, had been summoned to Jun’s home in Alamar—one of many homes across the Lower Continents. Most business meetings were held at the teahouses, and more often than not, Jun didn’t even attend them himself. This man, in particular, had been a courier for ten years and had never personally met with him. To be invited to his house was an honor afforded to very few.
“Hm. It’s a shame,” said Jun from behind a silk dressing curtain. Smoke billowed upward from his silhouette. “Having something to do with your hands reduces stress. Have you been under a lot of stress lately?”
Hugh once again cleared his throat. “Sir… Respectfully… what’s all this about?”
“I don’t think you meant any respect at all, Captain… whatever your name is. But I’ll overlook that. After all, I’m certain you have better things to be doing than being bombarded by questions in the house of the most powerful being on the Lower Continents.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Shut up,” Jun said airily, waving his hand as if to bat away a fly. “You know, you’ve been working for me for many years—by your tiny calendar at any rate—and you still have never met me. Funny, isn’t it. Do you even know my name?”
Hugh chuckled. “It’s Jun Minami.”
“Wow,” Jun drawled. “If you honestly thought that was my real name, you’re stupider than I’d thought. But never mind that. I didn’t bring you here merely to insult you.”
Hugh was beginning to suspect something about this meeting was very wrong.
“You know, the first time it came to my attention that the number of crates you brought me didn’t add up to the number of crates on the shipping docket, I decided to overlook it. After all, being one of my couriers must be very stressful.”
Hugh’s heart skipped a beat. He had to get out of this place—now. He turned around to run, but he found himself surrounded by men dressed in the garb of the Onniban group of atheistic monks, who devoted themselves only to the many styles of bare-handed fighting as though that were their god: The Black Claws. Hugh began to tremble.
“The second time the numbers didn’t add up, I attributed it to a simple mistake. After all, the incidences were years in between—surely you weren’t stupid enough to steal from me. This third time, however, I decided to do some research about you. You know, the funny thing is, your crew doesn’t work for you. They work for me. And do you know what I found out about you? That you don’t have any family of your own. No wife, to soothe the aches and pains of working on a skyship. No children to adore everything you do, and to draw you pictures of the world as they see it.” Jun paused to pick up an opium pipe and take several small puffs, then one long drag, before setting it down again. “No one to miss you.”
“Wait! Please, I-I—” Hugh began, but he found himself suddenly unable to speak. It was as if the air around him had become a dead zone for any sound to escape across.
“Very few people know my real name, anymore. Only close friends, actually.” Jun stood up, and Hugh turned once again to try to make a run for it, no matter how irrational the thought of flight. The Black Claws caught him by the arms and forced him to his knees, facing Jun, who now approached. He was much shorter than the stories went, and blonde—nothing at all like the way he’d been described. “You, however, will be permitted into that small group, only because I know that after today, you won’t be able to share that information.”
Still unable to speak, Hugh shook his head, tears suddenly springing to his eyes. This was it, Hugh was done for, for sure—this man truly was as ruthless as people said.
Jun rolled his eyes. “Oh, you won’t be killed. I hate having to replace my workers. But… you will be punished.” As he got closer, Hugh noticed something odd about Jun. His eyes were two different colors. Not only that, he had slender, pointed ears, and the facial features of a teenage boy. If he was a Ralada, he was a very strange-looking one.
He stopped and knelt in front of Hugh, then grabbed him by the face, suddenly the picture of rage. Hugh struggled uselessly to wrench himself free. This wasn’t going to end well for him.
“My name is Risal the Seer, Secondborn Godseed of Rala. I am the most powerful mage beneath the Floating Islands, and second in the world only to the Eternal King. I have eyes and ears everywhere, and if I ever hear anything about you again, remember who it is you’re really working for—and who it is you’re stealing from.” He released Hugh’s face and stood up, looking at one of the Black Claws. “Cut out his tongue.”
Sooooo... I have a brand-new baby to take care of (I'm his godparent) and I stay up through the night with him, so I'm looking for something to do to keep me occupied. If you're in Western Europe, that would be great--I'm on the West Coast of the US, so our time schedules would align nicely.
I have some ideas, but first I want to get rules out of the way.
1) Please contribute to the plot. Please. Throw plot twists at me. Surprise me.
2) One-liners are rarely appropriate. Even if it's a conversation between characters that doesn't require a lot of description, at least give me TWO or, even better, THREE lines to work with. Describe SOMETHING, like tone of voice or internal monologue. Something.
3) I will forgive spelling errors. Scarce grammatical errors, I would be willing to let slide. Please do not make them a habit.
That's it. Now, for the ideas I've got banging around in my head.
FANDOM:
--Star Trek TOS, but with consideration of modern technology (internet, cell phones, advanced robotics, so on)
--Black Butler (in the time of Vincent Phantomhive)
--Steven Universe (I have no plots for this, I just want to jump on the bandwagon)
ORIGINAL FICTION:
--Urban Fantasy
*Immortal clairvoyant dance club owner x subject of prophecy
*Small god tied to land that has now been urbanized x idk, whoever your character is, I guess (obviously no plot for this one)
--High Fantasy (idk I just want to see if anyone has an idea for a high fantasy RP)
So what do you think?
I have some ideas, but first I want to get rules out of the way.
1) Please contribute to the plot. Please. Throw plot twists at me. Surprise me.
2) One-liners are rarely appropriate. Even if it's a conversation between characters that doesn't require a lot of description, at least give me TWO or, even better, THREE lines to work with. Describe SOMETHING, like tone of voice or internal monologue. Something.
3) I will forgive spelling errors. Scarce grammatical errors, I would be willing to let slide. Please do not make them a habit.
That's it. Now, for the ideas I've got banging around in my head.
FANDOM:
--Star Trek TOS, but with consideration of modern technology (internet, cell phones, advanced robotics, so on)
--Black Butler (in the time of Vincent Phantomhive)
--Steven Universe (I have no plots for this, I just want to jump on the bandwagon)
ORIGINAL FICTION:
--Urban Fantasy
*Immortal clairvoyant dance club owner x subject of prophecy
*Small god tied to land that has now been urbanized x idk, whoever your character is, I guess (obviously no plot for this one)
--High Fantasy (idk I just want to see if anyone has an idea for a high fantasy RP)
So what do you think?
I'm seeking a 1x1 Star Trek TOS RP, but with consideration of modern technology (internet, cell phones, advanced robotics, etc). PM me if you would be interested.
Sooooo... I have a brand-new baby to take care of (I'm his godparent) and I stay up through the night with him, so I'm looking for something to do to keep me occupied. If you're in Western Europe, that would be great--I'm on the West Coast of the US, so our time schedules would align nicely.
I have some ideas, but first I want to get rules out of the way.
1) Please contribute to the plot. Please. Throw plot twists at me. Surprise me.
2) One-liners are rarely appropriate. Even if it's a conversation between characters that doesn't require a lot of description, at least give me TWO or, even better, THREE lines to work with. Describe SOMETHING, like tone of voice or internal monologue. Something.
3) I will forgive spelling errors. Scarce grammatical errors, I would be willing to let slide. Please do not make them a habit.
That's it. Now, for the ideas I've got banging around in my head.
FANDOM:
--Star Trek TOS, but with consideration of modern technology (internet, cell phones, advanced robotics, so on)
--Black Butler (in the time of Vincent Phantomhive)
--Steven Universe (I have no plots for this, I just want to jump on the bandwagon)
ORIGINAL FICTION:
--Urban Fantasy
*Immortal clairvoyant dance club owner x subject of prophecy
*Small god tied to land that has now been urbanized x idk, whoever your character is, I guess (obviously no plot for this one)
--High Fantasy (idk I just want to see if anyone has an idea for a high fantasy RP)
So what do you think?
I have some ideas, but first I want to get rules out of the way.
1) Please contribute to the plot. Please. Throw plot twists at me. Surprise me.
2) One-liners are rarely appropriate. Even if it's a conversation between characters that doesn't require a lot of description, at least give me TWO or, even better, THREE lines to work with. Describe SOMETHING, like tone of voice or internal monologue. Something.
3) I will forgive spelling errors. Scarce grammatical errors, I would be willing to let slide. Please do not make them a habit.
That's it. Now, for the ideas I've got banging around in my head.
FANDOM:
--Star Trek TOS, but with consideration of modern technology (internet, cell phones, advanced robotics, so on)
--Black Butler (in the time of Vincent Phantomhive)
--Steven Universe (I have no plots for this, I just want to jump on the bandwagon)
ORIGINAL FICTION:
--Urban Fantasy
*Immortal clairvoyant dance club owner x subject of prophecy
*Small god tied to land that has now been urbanized x idk, whoever your character is, I guess (obviously no plot for this one)
--High Fantasy (idk I just want to see if anyone has an idea for a high fantasy RP)
So what do you think?
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