Thou errant flap-dragon!
The Character Development Threads are a series of character development/shared story threads where you may bring your own characters to interact with other characters in a mundane—or a not-so-mundane—setting with a loose Story Arc. Originally a NaNoWriMo exercise, it had expanded to become a regular staple of the Writer’s Block forums. In spite of the possibly harrowing length, fear not Continuity Lock-Out nor Archive Panic; one of us would be glad to fill you in with a brief recap of what is going on if asked. Or even better, have a glance at the last two pages. For guidelines, please check the Character Development Thread page.If Bianca recalls correctly, she had once been told that the chance of a portal malfunction was about a hundred to one. The fog and springy moss beneath her boots told her that she had encountered that once chance. The tiny young woman in the frilly wool dress squints, trying to make out the landscape, but the fog is too thick. All she can make out are vague, rolling shapes. Hills? Mountains? Marianne? Bianca looks to her metal right arm, where the goddess is housed. The reply is faint. I do not know this place. Be careful. Something is stifling me… I cannot help. The panic begins to set in and Bianca twirls her black, silky hair around her finger, trying to think clearly. She is buffeted by a gust of wind, but the ammunition and clockwork rose petals in the pockets sewn into her petticoats ammunition and clockwork rose petals in the pockets sewn into her petticoats and the lining of her skirt weigh them down, so only her hair is affected. Slightly annoyed, she holds it back so she can take off her right earring. It turns into a revolver. She seems to be surrounded by water, standing on a finger of land jutting into it. Well, water is always a good thing. Bianca kneels at the water's edge and tries to think about her options. Water means survival. Perhaps she can find others here, that can help her. She squints. Is the water steaming? She pokes a finger into it. It's nearly boiling. This must be a hot spring. What else is around here? The spring sits in what looks to Bianca like a crater blasted into the earth, about ten feet high. After much struggling and ripped stockings, she climbs out with the help of rocks and depressions in the wall, along with magic to make her own handholds if necessary. She is greeted by a forest of what she thinks are pine trees, but the needles are thinner and more feathery. Afraid that she'll be lost in it if she proceeds too far, she lies down underneath one, hoping that the fog will be thinner when she wakes up.
edited 25th Sep '11 5:03:26 PM by snowfoxofdeath
Writer's Welcome WagonWhen the Guild send Bryan through the anomaly, this wasn't what he expected. After stumbling through gray psychic mist for a few moments, Bryan burst out. From mist he entered fog, slowing down as he regained his bearing. The mild chill didn't bother him, since he was wearing his winter jacket, but his palms still sweated. He darted his eyes around. Fog, pine trees, rock formation, fog, lake, overcast, fog. He was definitely not in Tennessee anymore, and it was too cold to be Kansas either. It was more coniferous, bordering boreal except for the lack of snow. An unidentifiable ambience of animals, along with the swishing of water, were the only sounds. Bryan spotted someone in the distance. He started to walk to see if the person knew anything. He trended carefully, because if that person mistake him for a very thin bear, he was dead.
patience, young padawanHe frowned, pouting like a child who just had his dessert taken away. Deserted islands were supposed to be warm and pretty and full of birds! Not fog and pine trees! He hated how the needles scratched against his suit as he walked around the island, searching for anybody else. So far, he determined that he was alone. He wasn't even sure why he was walking anymore, even though he was moving as though he was being pushed into his bedroom for a time-out on top of having his dessert taken. His movements made him look strange, mainly because he was no longer a child, but a man in his thirties dressed in an expensive-looking pinstripe suit. He randomly turned a corner, and saw a person. The man's magenta-colored eyes suddenly widened as though he was in a cartoon, and he froze in place mid-step. They were only a silhouette, but it was a person! A childish grin that suggested that his stolen dessert was brought back to him spread over his face, and he fastwalked through the fog until he reached the person. There was a kid. And a pretty-looking girl napping under a tree. And a HOT SPRING! YAY!
Fortunately, Lafayette had had enough energy and time left in the season to come to the surface again. This surface, this time, it was the same form, bipedal and almost furless and without gills. Ascent was taking too long — his lungs burned as he headed for the surface from thousands of miles below. By the time he made it to the surface, lungs about to burst, he took in a deep breath, air beautiful and not watery at all, but above all, it was cold. Cold, he didn't like cold. He extended his field outward, which would protect him, but he could still feel the elements, and still not appreciate them. Lafayette ducked underwater again into the warm, swimming over to the edge of the spring, keeping as much of him underwater as he could. He wished he had gills. He missed those.
"Beware of the wolves. They were raised by wolves." Eidolonomics: ~60.4k/100,000 words
The Draconic SuperiorDonovan couldn't remember how he had gotten here, just the bright flash before he found himself laying face-down of the the wet, mossy ground of wherever he was. He was rather tall, about 6 feet, and his white hair was slightly wet from the fog, and his red eyes darted everywhere around him, trying to find out where he was. His clothing was strange, even for him, all his clothing was that of his Elder Form, black pants, and a long coat which had to appearance of having eyes on it, but there weren't moving this time. He was used to this kind of setting, as he was attending college in upper Massachusetts. The cool air was somewhat refreshing, the fog brushing against his face helped him calm down his gorwing panic. He took a better looked around to examine the situation. Pines trees, some rock formations, mossy everywhere, and some other things. He sat down on a cool rock as he noticed someone ahead of him. Thinking for a moment, he went up toward the person, and noticed that it was a young girl. Shrugging, he noticed that other individuals where headed toward the same direction as he was. It didn't matter now, he wanted to know where he was first.
edited 9th Oct '11 4:41:31 PM by draconiansuperior
Easily entertainedImey supported himself on an old bronze trident and examined the remnants of what had once been his fishing boat. He was a slender man, medium skinned and gray eyed, with a mess of straight black hair down to his shoulders. He was ill-dressed for the weather: the leather kilt, bare chest, and necklace of fish bones suggested a far warmer climate, and he was visibly uncomfortable in the cool weather of the island. He fingered the well-worn bronze knife at his side, and made a note to skin something furry. But for the time being, he grabbed a rough woolen blanket from the remnants of his fishing boat and wrapped it around his shoulders; better, but not by much. The freak storm had obviously taken him very far from home. He still had his catches from before the storm: brightly colored tropical fish, which he tied up in his net and slung over his shoulder. Keeping his trident close, he listened, hearing footsteps. He slowly approached the hot springs, and spotted human shapes forming in the mist. Dangerous? Maybe. But what other choice did he have, but to approach? Unaware his words were being translated by unknown powers into English, he came closer and said, "...hello?"
edited 25th Sep '11 10:11:55 AM by KillerClowns
BEST. PRINCESS. EVERPlane crashes were supposed to be the most infrequent of unfortunate events, right up there with lightning strikes. One in a million. You were supposedly more at risk on the road than in the air. Having just forced her way out of the decimated remains of her plane, Scarlett was pretty sure that was bullshit. She gave a quick glance back at the smouldering pile of slag, just in time to see a half-melted wing drop off the cliff. Piece of shit. She sighed. Of course it happened like this. She had a place to be and people to meet and instead she ended up smack dab in the middle of El Bumfuck, Nowhere. She smacked the ash off her jeans and dusted off her baggy straightjacket. She happened to like it the way it was. White. Leaning over, she checked her boots for holes and tears, of which there were none. Satisfied, she tightened the knots in the laces and loosened the abnormally tight belts on her arms and back. Some jackoff must've been messing with it before the plane crash, she figured. She wondered if he was still alive. Nah, probably not. Having lived through said crash, now the real trial began. Surviving. A quick survey of her surroundings layed out her options. She could hike up the mountains, trudge through the forest, or jump off a cliff. She'd pass on option three. Setting off into the thick forest, she started up a mental checklist. First she'd need a viable source of fresh water. Judging by how the ground was making her boots all squidgy, that wouldn't be a problem. She closed her eyes, and listened. There was silence all around. No birds, no bears, no wind, and no rivers. Nothing but silence. The albino girl pressed her eyelids against each other even harder, scrunching up her face. There had to be something. And then she could hear it. Loud and clear, like someone had just remembered to turn on the speakers. She could hear voices, a woman or two, and a couple men. They were chatting, but she couldn't make out all the words. There was some sort of background noise blocking it out. Slowly, she opened her eyes. A river. They'd been standing next to a river. Having finally found proper direction, she could breathe a little easier. Nature would not be making Scarlett its bitch any time soon. With a comforting thought like that in mind, she set off, boots sinking deep into the wet marshland.
edited 25th Sep '11 10:36:05 AM by KSPAM
patience, young padawanHe rapidly turned towards the voice and raised his right hand in a static wave, greeting him with a sudden "O HAI!" in a Cockney accent. He froze in that odd position, his eyes looking the man up and down. "Your outfit is badass-looking!" he cooed in an abnormally soft tone.
training ring seen on his wrist. With it, his PSI was limited down to less than half it's full capabilities and once you accept to try it on, that's the way it is for a week before it can come off. Only five days remaining and Prisha wondered how much more powerful his PSI can be without being weighed down by the training ring. A deafening crash shaken the escape pod as it landed back on earth. Which was entirely not according to plan. Seriously, that company is more focused on decorating their escape pods rather than ensuring it can land safely. "Dammit Connor. Can I rely on you guys for anything?" Prisha muttered as he made his way out of the pod. But to his surprise found that he didn't land on his intended destination. Prisha was quite sure the pod was coursed to land in the middle of some desert, where Connor of the Occult Society was to use his gravity manipulation and soften Prisha fall. But wherever Prisha had landed looked more like the complete opposite. An island covered in a think fog and pine trees all around? How did the pod go off course? Prisha hid back behind the pod's door needing to think carefully and quickly. Is this place safe? Is this island deserted? Or did someone hear his crash? Prisha decided to peek out of the pod to look around carefully.
edited 25th Sep '11 9:03:53 PM by PsychoFreaX
Easily entertainedImey nodded his head and said, "uh... thanks?" That person, he decided, was clearly insane, or possibly just brain damaged. There was also a man in an... an eye coat? He gave Imey an impression of being a mage. In Imey's experience, the best thing to do with mages was to simply let them be. Talking to them could end badly. There was a man swimming in the hot springs, with a wild look similar to the previous madman. A mage and two lunatics. He looked up and said, "what did I do to deserve this?" He continued his scan... a machine-man? Well, Machine-woman, technically. But it couldn't be. Machine-men were old wives tales told by superstitious louts. Besides, machine-men were supposed to be bigger. Probably just armor, he decided. Her clothing — overly intricate and painfully impractical — was clearly not meant for wild lands such as this, and was showing rapid wear. She was sleeping, or perhaps unconcious... best not to disturb her either way, he was no apothecary. Finally, there was a man in a thick coat (Bryan). He looked to be fairly stable. He approached his general direction, sat near the hot springs, keeping the swimming madman and the impractically dressed woman in his field of view, and, laying down his catch besides himself, he asked, "is anybody hungry?" Sharing his meal seemed like a good way to earn their trust, since he obviously wouldn't be selling his catch at market.
When history changes...Consciousness built slowly. Gradually rose before coming to a head. Grimm opened his eyes. The first thing he could tell was that he was not lying on his front like he had thought. His body was being held upright by something, but he felt no pressure on his body. He tried to move his legs. They were fine, but weren’t touching anything. “Unh- where am I?” he mumbled, lifting his head. Puzzled, he saw a lot of green. It was a few shock-addled seconds more before he realized there were branches in his face. He brushed them away and took a looked up. He was stuck hanging from a tree by the cords of a parachute. “Ah shit…” He looked down, and was relieved to see he wasn’t far off the ground. Withdrawing a knife from an arm holster, he carefully picked his way through the mass of tangled wire that had become wrapped up together at landing. A few minutes of cutting rewarded him with a short drop and before long he was on his feet on the forest floor. He was wearing, as ever, his black balaclava that covered the face save for his eyes and his blue UN SPECTRA helmet. His body was covered by jungle-camo combat fatigues, as befitting the environment. Taking in his surroundings and deeming them safe for the moment, Grimm shrugged off the parachute pack and took stock of his inventory. For weapons, he had a Daewoo K11 strapped to the front of his chest rig, a USP .45 in a thigh holster. Several signaling grenades were hanging off his belt. He knew this wasn’t all. Scanning the canopy, he spotted a drop-pack that had gotten similarly tangled in the branches of another tree. Setting down his weapons which would have weighed him down he walked over and began climbing. It was a few minutes more before he had all of his equipment in order and accounted for. Now, where was he? He couldn’t remember the fall, but the foliage here wasn’t as thick as he anticipated. I must be near the beach, he thought. Setting off into the forest, he began to hear the sound of voices. They didn’t sound particularly threatening, no barked orders or yells, but he approached with caution just in case.
un monde libéré de la guerre est un monde exempt de frontières
edited 25th Sep '11 11:10:38 AM by PsychoFreaX
Thou errant flap-dragon!Voices and footsteps break her light layer of sleep. Bianca sits up and gazes at the motely gathering with wide amber eyes. Of course, anyone was dangerous, but no one looked bloodthirsty. "Do you live here?" Her grip on the gun tightens.
Writer's Welcome WagonBryan was already weird out at the sheer amount of people who arrived. It was as if a mysterious force scooped them all up, and dump them around this steamy lake. The sky needed an eye on for the next few minutes, because the chances of a satellite hitting him just got a lot narrower. Bryan flinched when one of the people sat next to him and lay our some fish. His place of origin was hard to determine, but his best guest was either a Pacific Islander, or a Middle-Easterner. But he wasn't sure if he was even of his time...or world. That would complicate things, especially if the man wasn't afraid to use his trident in-land. Bryan lifted his palm out in a halt gesture, looking away. "Uh...no thanks. I just ate a couple of hours ago." He dislike fish anyways. He only like them breaded. "So, how did you get here?"
Easily entertainedIn response to Bianca, Imey motioned at his clothes and said, slightly confused, "do I look like I live here?" He shook his head and said, "no, no. I'm very far from home, I think. I've never even seen a place like this before. Or anyone dressed like you, or anyone here... I mean, except that... fellow, " he waved at Layfayette. Then he said to Bryan, "your loss." He took out a fish and began to fillet it. "As for me. I was fishing when a freak storm formed. Very strange... I know the seas well, and they shouldn't form that fast. I was knocked unconscious trying to get back to shore... and awoke on the coast of this land."
BEST. PRINCESS. EVERThe boom pummeled Scarlett's eardrums, setting off a screeching orchestra in her head. She looked up. The sky gray as the ash from her plane was ablaze, a line of blue fire streaking downwards from the upper atmosphere. Like Zeus' own lightning. It shot over her head, its arc inevitably leaving it only one place to go. She braced herself, and waited. The ground shook and sound itself folded inwards, collapsing around itself into a clap of almight thunder. Trees bucked and were uprooted, and a hot wind brushed her face. Dirt and dust and mulched green flew into the sky a mile off, marking the crash site with an enormous brown mushroom cloud. Change of plans. Scarlett swiveled on her heels and took off in a run towards the wreckage. She saved some time by just running into the branches and bushes, not really bothering to pay any attention. It was quicker than trying to work around them (although she'd definitely need some new clothes). Scarlett pushed through the underbrush, thoroughly stained brown and green, and set foot on the crash site. The crater was less of a crater and more of a burning skid mark, dragging up earth and vegetation for miles and reducing it to slag. The object inside the crater... She stepped closer. It was oblong, and roughly man-sized, covered in thermal plating. An escape pod, no doubt. That's when she saw it climb out. It was small, covered in dirt, and appeared just a little bit purple. Cupping her hands to her mouth, she shouted into the crater. "You there! Identify yourself!"
edited 25th Sep '11 11:21:08 AM by KSPAM
Writer's Welcome WagonBryan saw a woman with a mechanic arm approached them. From the limited amount of psychic energy stored within him—the psychic plane felt distant in this unknown location—he could sense something in the arm. What did it mean? Who's knows? Being a fish out of water, like the ones Sea Guy was filleting, he had to find out as much information as possible without burning his first impression in a oily inferno. "So it's safe to presume we're all from different...worlds." Bryan said, standing up. He looked around more. "Strange, this place looks like something from Earth, although I'll have to examine the wildlife first." He faced both of them. "My name is Bryan." He brushed his fingers against his chest. "How about yours?"
edited 25th Sep '11 11:27:35 AM by PsychoFreaX
When history changes...Grimm’s trek was interrupted by what sounded like a clap of thunder from the sky. Looking up, he could see something streaking down from the sky, partly obscured by the canopy. It looked to be heading this way. Not even bothering to so much as curse, Grimm crouched down and pressed himself into a hollow at the base of the tree. He curled up and covered his ears, waiting for the inevitable. After a few long seconds there was a titanic crash, the shock of impact shaking the earth. He stayed ensconced in his hiding place, dirt and bits of plant raining down around him. After a few minutes, Grimm popped his head back out, seeing that it was safe, and emerged. He looked to the impact site, and set off at a run in it’s direction. It wouldn’t be hard to find.
edited 25th Sep '11 11:26:20 AM by Gault
un monde libéré de la guerre est un monde exempt de frontières
Food was one way of getting Lafayette's attention. Hunger may not have been an immediate feeling, but from what he know of living hunger was a perpetual state that could only be relieved for a short time. So, an offer of food was enough to coax him up out of the water. He wished he could take the water with him. He still wished he had gills. But still he climbed out of the hot spring and stepped towards the man who apparently had food. "I'm hungry, " said Lafayette. Immediate truth was unimportant — eventual truth was.
"Beware of the wolves. They were raised by wolves." Eidolonomics: ~60.4k/100,000 words
The Draconic SuperiorDonovan pondered how to answer Bianca as more people arrived. "Why would I live here, I live someplace like it, but not here, " He immediately remembered something important, "Oh, my apologies, my names is Donovan, a not so unwilling servent to Nyarlathotep himself." Yeah, a majority of my non-human characters are from the Cthulhu Mythos with some interesting details of my own added
patience, young padawan"These fishies are pretty! But I like this one the best." He pointed repeatedly at one that bore scales colored a garish shade of violet. "I have to draw these before you people eat them..." He dropped to his knees next to the net and took a pencil, halfsize sketchbook, and pack of twelve Copic markers out of his pockets. Leaning the box against the side of his folded legs, he turned to the rest of the group. "OH!- I'melijahcline." Just as rapidly as he introduced himself, he turned back to his open sketchbook and rapidly scratched his pencil lightly over the clean paper, allowing a perfect likeness of his beloved purple fish take shape.
edited 25th Sep '11 11:43:48 AM by PsychoFreaX
Thou errant flap-dragon!Elijah Cline reminds Bianca of William in a frightfully good mood, which makes her warm up to him. She scoots next to him and watches the drawing take shape with sincere interest. He draws aa well as Seymour, if not better.
BEST. PRINCESS. EVERIt ran from the pod, heading into the forest. Oh no you don't. She vaulted after it, skidding down into the crater. She bounded onto the pod and then over, crossing the crater in less than ten seconds. Finally she could see it again. She took off from the hill's peak, landing a flying pile-driver on whatever it was, pinning it to the ground.
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