My name is Sharysa, and I have an obsession with fantasy. I do enjoy light sci-fi, but on the whole I am a slave to fantasy. Favorites include Wolf's Rain, Fullmetal Alchemist, Trigun, Dragonriders Of Pern, Garth Nix's Old Kingdom trilogy, and Harry Potter.
While I enjoy making things Darker and Edgier, I hate downer endings, so I usually have characters earn their happy ending. (Yes, I'm big on idealism.) My writing (especially fanfiction) is heavy on stream-of-consciousness and present-tense, but I have no problem writing in the classic third-person past tense.
Tropes I use a lot: Deconstructions, reconstructions, Mythopoeias, Blood Magic (but it's not always bad), both voluntary and Involuntary Shapeshifting, Earn Your Happy Ending, and Fantasy Counterpart Cultures. Character-wise, Determinators and Fragile Flowers (that you don't want to get mad) co-exist quite well with each other. I also breathe Ho Yay and Les Yay, but the Trauma Conga Lines and cutie-breaking is entirely unrelated to whatever homosexuality I shove into the mix.
The two main stories that I'm writing are "The Curse-Breaker" and "Island Song." "The Curse-Breaker" is part one of three in a Fairy Tale Deconstruction, and "Island Song" is the first installment of *mumblesavaguenumberbecauseIhaven'tdecidedyet*.
edited 27th Apr '10 9:47:24 PM by Sharysa
Respect the Red Right Hand
New Work!
Collaboration fanfic with our own Anthiens. My favorite sort, a crossover.
Dreamscapes
Summary: When the bastard child of a hundred maniacs fights Nocturne and wins, stealing most of his powers, Nocturne must depend on the only group to defeat him before- Team Phantom- to destroy Krueger before the world dies in its sleep.
edited 28th Apr '10 5:50:34 AM by Ronnie
Introduction
Hello, my name is Luthen and I'm an amateur writer...
I mean, I prefer fantasy (Discworld, The Old Kingdom, Gaiman's various works, and lots of other stuff), but foray into Sci-Fi occasionally.
Tropes of preference: I enjoy world building (a bit too much), playing with the normal fantasy settings. And constructing magic systems, which often involve Elemental Rock–Paper–Scissors but not magic languages. I dislike angsty backstories and badasses, but like shapeshifters and Determinators. My preferred methods of story resolution are either Talking the Monster to Death or some kind of symbolic solution.
Currently working on Spirit Song, the story of a violin-maker joining up with a bardmage in his quest to release the embodiment of Spring from an enchantment and end a five hundred year long spring. A gypsie girl looking for her family and a would-be Knight Errant hoping to find fame, screw this up though. It has a thread
in which there awaits the prologue for critique.
If I get my act together I'll be back shortly with a magic system to discuss. Or the setting. Depends what my brain has to offer.
edited 28th Apr '10 10:40:41 PM by Luthen
You must agree, my plan is sheer elegance in its simplicity! My TumblrIntroduction
Dr Rockopolis here.
I'm a bit of a Cloud Cuckoo Lander, and I don't write; I'd kinda like to try though.
- They few things I have written have been...goofy; sticking out in my head, I once wrote a short essay on how The Most Dangerous Game was about the dangers of smoking, and A Modest Proposal on how liposuction and biofuels make America's obesity sustainable.
- If I were feeling fancy, it'd almost be like I'm setting myself up as a Trickster Archetype.
I...honestly don't feel very comfortable writing; I've been thinking about posting here since...probably November, when I found out I missed Na No Wri Mo.
I don't know, I might start writing some fanfiction of something or other (that has no expectations of quality), just to get comfortable.
- Neon Genesis Evangelion Metal Gear Solid Intercontinuity Crossover has been bouncing around in my head for a while, ever since I saw Fan Art of Asuka wearing an Eyepatch of Power.
- Slightly more seriously, a Dune fic, What If Jessica had obeyed her orders, and Paula Atreides was married to the Harkonnen heir?
- Alternatively, my Cloud Cuckoo Lander tells me Paul is told he's to pretend to be Paula, or Paula gets raised as the son Leto never had.
What I'd really like to write, someday...something involving a Space Elevator; I think it's an awesome and stylish concept. Possibly make it Cyberpunk, just because utopian Sci-Fi doesn't havve enough conflict.
edited 2nd May '10 10:46:45 PM by DrRockopolis
[[tvtropes.org/pmwiki/lb_i.php?lb_id=12919183980B30760200 Liveblog of]] John Carter Of Mars
Respect the Red Right Hand
Excerpt:
Context- Only neccessary context is that Paulina is a vain, egotistical Libby, and Sam is The Snark Knight.
Pure darkness surrounded her.
“...hello? ”
A lightbulb turned on in the darkness. It was a dank basement. To the left of her a bunch of makeup, to the right... surgical tools. They were shiny, polished. A silhouette of a person stood before her...
“...this is gonna make me look prettier, right?”
A dark laugh came.
“Oh, yes,” said the familiar voice, in a dark tone,“veeeerrry pretty...”
Paulina was stunned, she placed the voice, but she didn't believe it. The voice didn't reply, the figure's fingers darting to the blades. It pulled up an old fashioned barber's blade. Paulina squirmed.
“First, darling,” the figure said nonchalantly, “long hair is definitely out this season.”
“...Unpopular girl?”
The nightmarish vision of Sam pulled up Paulina's hair with one hand, holding the razor in the other.
“Now, if it hurts at all,” she said, “...be sure and tell me. I'd hate to miss it.”
The nightmare Sam sang slightly off key, slowly chopping off Paulina's hair.
There's a hole in the world like a great black pit
She felt the cold blade across her scalp... Her hair, her beautiful
hair...
and it's full of people who're full of shit,
It dug in. She screamed.
and the vermin of the world inhabit it...
“Sam, please, stop it...”
they call it high school.
The nightmarish figure of Sam reached to the blade shelf, picking up more blades with the razor. She dragged them across Paulina's face, til they became a blur, and appeared almost claws...
“Please... Oh, God, please!”
The blades stopped a moment. The figure drew them, claws, now, on its hand, to its face.. it was different. Hideously burned, disfigured. It spoke- its voice had changed to.
Paulina saw her reflection in the blades... She was more than ugly... she was hideous. She was horrible.
Freddy grinned.
“Now, die, bitch.”
He jabbed his claws into her head, and she was gone.
edited 30th Apr '10 5:22:56 AM by Ronnie
Hello, everyone. My name is Whyte Shadow (a name with some history behind it - I'm kind of attached to it in spite of its silliness). Right now some of my favorite stories and biggest inspirations are Sweet Dreams Are Made of Teeth
(warning, very dark), Homestuck
, and Bitkin Tales
, along with various games from Metroidvanias to puzzle games like 3 in Three. It's hard to say what my favorite tropes are, other than Functional Magic and Music Magic, but my absolute least favorite is probably Status Quo Is God.
Tempo Rubato is a world defined by music. Every place has an ambient background track - its very own theme song - and listening to and changing the music rewrites the world. The general level of technology is somewhere around the mid-19th century, I think. I hope it'll be a full-fledged game someday, or maybe a cartoon, but right now I'm just trying my hand at various drawings and writing.
Presently Known Characters: Cress is a 12-year-old girl from the countryside village of Fiddlehead Hills. Although she's always had an interest in music, and is a bit of a prodigy at it, it was seeing a special performance by a well-known entertainment troupe (think of it as a sort of magical Cirque du Soleil) that really got her thinking 'that's what I want to do when I grow up' and inspired her to seek attendance at the Solfege Conservatory. Cress plays the violin, and her music has a sort of Celtic folk feel to it.
Axel Bosch, the leader of a gang of bandits who follow distortion as a style and philosophy - basically, cranking up the volume to 11 on absolutely everything, with a guitar and a hair metal/rock/punk aesthetic to match. He started out as just another thief, but eventually decided to take up a cause.
Vasco "Chip" Volante is the second mate aboard a privateering ship. Chip is devoted to science and discovering the way his world really works, so he specializes in a new technique - synthesis, taking sound apart and putting it together from basic waveforms. He has a sort of antagonistic relationship with Axel - Axel calls Chip a rigid, uninspired, mechanical-sounding hack, while Chip accuses Axel of being an unrefined noise-maker who only knows three chords. He comes from a coastal/island area - palms and sandy beaches on the coast rising to thick rainforests and mountains farther inland.
Then there's Zooka. She hails from the Brasslands - a wet, swampy place that normally represents the spirit of improvisation personified. Her instrument of choice is a big brass trombone, and her native style is sort of jazzy. Her father is Bazoo, a man who lives out in the swamps, putting together designs for new instruments. He's developed the ability to direct instruments as if he were playing them himself, and he's taught this skill to his daughter.
Rhime is a professional tutor at the Solfege Academy. Easygoing and sort of a proto-hippie, she serves as a mentor and older sister figure for Cress - someone to look up to and confide in. Her specialty is bells; she wears a bell-skirt, bellbottoms, and four jingly bell-earrings on each of her ears.
The Maestro is the head figure of his very own (as-yet-unnamed) empire, which is centered on the city of Solfege. He's sort of obsessed with perfection - everything in perfect time, everything structured.
The story will lead Cress, Chip, Axel, and Zooka into conflict with the Maestro's empire, to the reawakening of the lost city of Fermata, to the edges of the world where the border between the physical and the magical have broken down, and beyond.
I can't claim credit for everything in the setting. Not by a long shot - I have a close friend helping me, who I can't consider anything less than a co-author.
edited 30th Apr '10 12:06:45 AM by WhyteShadow
Heeey, I found an older writing of mine^^
Fiction Submission
Michael Smathers msmathe1@my.westga.edu
Michael Smathers is a history student at the University of West Georgia. In his spare time (when such exists) he likes to read, draw, write stories online and practice martial arts. As of yet, he has not been published anywhere officially with his stories, but he has a few novels in progress.
Works Submitted:
“For Love and Honor,” short story
The autumn night was full of song as crickets chirped in the trees outside Hitoma Shrine. Uketai Yaori, soon to be Tomoe Yaori no Michi, sighed as the cool air flowed through the open shoji screens that covered the doors and windows, carrying with it the scent of the outer garden’s crysantheums.
It wasn’t only the tranquil mountain night that grudgingly eased her nerves – it was the unsteady peace which had finally come after seven years of warfare. During these times, the hordes from the western mainland had dared to desecrate the Land of the Rising Sun. Tomoe Michi, her betrothed and one of the most famous samurai alongside Suenaga Takezaki, had travelled to the westernmost island, Kyushu, and fought several battles against the barbarians. Michi had barely escaped with his life, after severing the arm of the barbarian leader and fighting him to a standstill. She shuddered at the memory of Takezaki and Jotaro Gensai, Michi’s own retainer, carrying him in a makeshift litter, and how they had had to bring two physicians to watch over Michi for a week on end to see that the terrible wound in his side remained uninfected.
Oh, Michi…please return soon…you’ve been gone far longer than I would have expected. He had gone into Kyoto earlier in the day to see that the last-minute preparations of their wedding were in place and was not one to dawdle – nor to allow maids to perform these tasks as was customary.
She stood, looking herself over in the mirror demurely – the blue kimono she wore clung to her hips, which had developed a little more in the summer while he had been away. He would likely approve. The two of them had not yet pillowed, having not had time, but Yaori was feeling the beginnings of womanly instincts within her. She rubbed a hand on her stomach and sighed longingly, as if there were a child already there.
The adjacent screen slid open, and Mariko, one of the shrinemaidens and Yaori’s closest friend, stepped through.
“Yaori? Is everything all right? Is there anything I can do for you to ease your worries?” she asked, leaning forward in concern. Abruptly Yaori burst into tears, falling forward onto her knees and burying her head in her hands. The stoicism she felt she had been expected to hold suddenly had dissolved.
“I don’t know, I don’t know!” she wailed as she shook with suppressed sobs. “Every night I worry whether Michi will come back whenever he goes out, whether or not he’ll encounter some challenger and be caught off his guard!” She stopped short, severely damning herself for allowing her emotions to show this clearly.
Mariko rushed over to Yaori and wrapped her arms about the other woman’s shoulders.
“Come now, Yaori – we both know Michi’s the most skilled warrior in all the world; after one attack, he would not be so easy to ambush. After all, when he received his wound, he’d been fighting sleepless, yes? Besides, who would dare to attack him after this summer? Here, I’ll bring you some tea.” She hugged Yaori more tightly for a moment, then released her and withdrew into the kitchen.
Several minutes later, as Yaori sat futilely trying to dispel the mental images of her love’s body lying amidst of a pool of blood, Mariko returned with a black tray laden with two teacups and a container of green tea. She poured the two of them cupfuls and they sat drinking in relative silence, but Yaori couldn’t stop rocking nervously to and fro.
“Do you want me to go out and look for him?” Mariko asked quietly. Yaori’s heart swelled in gratitude for Mariko – she knew the girl normally was very reclusive and didn’t like to venture out of the shrine’s walls, but that she would do so for her sake; it was enough that she had convinced the keepers of the shrine to allow the couple to stay here for sanctuary against the barbarians’ possible vengeance. After all, nothing could trespass on the sacred ground of Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess.
Mariko smiled, releasing Yaori. “I’ll come back as soon as I find him,” she patted the elder woman’s shoulder and withdrew from the room. The door softly closed, leaving Yaori alone with her fear.
From behind her, the frame of the door splintered harshly with the snapping of wood and ripping of the oiled paper. Immediately she dashed to the far wall and retrieved one of the shrine’s sacred swords. She was out of practice, but it was certainly better to have it than nothing. Unsure of what she expected to see, she turned slowly, unsheathing the sword and pointing it directly forward at arm’s length in a variation of the Seigan-gamae ready posture. Yaori took several deep breaths to steady herself.
In the shattered remnants of the door loomed a tall silhouette – a man, obviously, but it certainly wasn’t her betrothed. He was too broad, for one thing, and the shape of the right arm seemed somehow….wrong. The figure casually broke off a hanging section of the wall and stepped into the room. The dark fabric of the travelling vest and pants he wore shimmered a dull red. What caused the woman’s resolve to nearly break wasn’t the eyes, though she did cringe a little at them – rather, it was the ‘arm’ that hung eerily from his right shoulder. It wasn’t even an arm, but an arm-like metal device adorned with a length of chain and blood-covered claws. Yaori’s breath caught in her throat as she nearly dropped the sword in shock and grief – this man fit the description of the erstwhile barbarian leader, and he would have come from the direction of Yedo within the past day. Like a nightmare, all these facts swam together in her mind, leading to only one possible conclusion.
The bile in her stomach fought to come up, and would have were it not for the hot lump of pain in her throat and chest. With a final gasp and tightening of her muscles, she found herself lunging at the intruder with a shrill scream, sword raised high like Hachiman, the kami of war.
In the next moment, the sword was skittering along the floor, and she was sprawled a few feet away, clutching a sprained wrist from the barbarian’s defense. He had efficiently torn the weapon from her grasp. Belatedly, the coppery taste of blood made itself known on a swollen lip.
The look on his face was one of contempt as he glowered down at Yaori. She cringed back, icy claws of fear rending her heart.
“Where is the Ikkitousen?” demanded the barbarian. It took a moment for the title to register; Michieru had been called ‘Ikkitousen’ during the wars. The name meant ‘The Warrior Unmatched’, due to his reputation for skill.
Yaori sighed with momentary relief, but that relief gave way to another fear – even though Michi was alive, his life was in the balance as long as the man standing before her remained in Japan.
“I’m not sure…I haven’t seen him today…” she choked out. With a roar of rage, the barbarian slapped Yaori with stunning force.
“You insolent whore!” he said, fetid spittle spraying her face. “You lie! Tell me where he is; he and I have a blood debt to settle!” After recovering from the attack, Yaori stared at her attacker. She would never understand the warrior code of honor, no matter how long she lived with someone who followed it, she would never understand why it drove men such as Michi and the one before her to such lengths.
“Isn’t what has already happened enough?” she asked quietly. “Don’t you see? You’ve proven your skills to one another. Why fight more? What can you hope to achieve except gather more blood on your hands?” The man bared his teeth, gripping Yaori by the throat and forcing her back against the wall.
“We both survived. Such a battle as the one we fought cannot be decided by merely wounding. Fleeing an enemy who yet lives is forbidden by our gods! I will not be denied my honor and my place in paradise! Tell me where he is…or I swear to you by all the gods I will tear your heart from your body even as it beats.”
“I won’t let this go on any longer,” Yaori replied. “Name your price…I’ll do anything, just leave us in peace and consider your debt paid!” she swallowed nervously; she was almost certain what he would ask for. With bated breath, she looked at him.
“Anything…” the man said slowly as a lecherous smile slid across his face. “Very well. I accept your offer.” Yaori nodded with resignation, her ears burning shamefully. There was no way she would be able to explain this to Michi, but that would have to wait. It would be better for her virtue to be sacrificed than to be in constant fear. She slipped out of the kimono.
The next few moments, she preferred not to remember – the man was none too gentle with her, and all the while, she could only think of the image of Michi’s face as she tried to explain herself. She tried with all she had to imagine that Michi was the one atop her, but the shame of it was more than she could bear, even as the barbarian disengaged from her, spent.
She laid there, blood pooling beneath their point of joining. She barely comprehended her surroundings, even as he set a knife upon her chest.
“What…?” Yaori asked. That was the only word that she managed as the knife dragged across her breasts, sending forth a spray of blood.
“You promised on your word that we would be left in peace!” she pleaded amidst the agony and betrayal. The barbarian let out a cruel laugh, skimming the edge across her throat.
“And so I will. There is peace in death, is there not?” He ripped the knife across her throat, and Yaori’s voice was muffled by the blood filling her windpipe. The barbarian stood. “That scrap of flesh meant nothing to me. I have had dozens like you. Would you and your precious Ikkitousen have truly been able to have a life together, with this guilt upon your soul? The depths to which you have disgraced him and yourself would have created an impassable rift…his honor would never have allowed him to take a used woman.”
His words echoed in her clouding mind, and her heart dropped like a stone as the truth of the matter set in: in her desire to save them, she had damned them, even if her life had been spared, perhaps the barbarian had been right: Michi would have forsaken her.
Her weakening cry of misery echoed through the empty shrine as her final breath left her. For Uketai Yaori, the world darkened and silenced eternally.
edited 29th Apr '10 11:41:54 PM by TomoeMichieru
Swordplay and writing blog. Purveyor of weeaboo fightin' magic.@Ronnie
Very nightmarish, you did a good job in capturing that particular helplessness in a nightmare. You did have a few odd line breaks, but that might have been on purpose.I assume you're using that parenthetical style similar to Stephen King but without the parentheses.
@Tomoe Michieru
I did find one minor gripe.
New writing
A fight scene that I'm not very sure about, and that I would like a lot of criticism on. It's a large bioweapon, sort of like a massive bone-covered ape capable of standing on two legs and with claws, fighting a mechanical soldier.
A shift into a sideways slash, and we ground our blades against each other, its face in an involuntary smile. The strength was prodigious, and I felt myself sliding back, listening to the screech as the creature’s claws left grooves in the cement; suddenly it thrust a leg behind mine, and threw me down. The earth shattered as my arm was pinned to the ground.
By now, a group of soldiers had congregated some distance from us, weapons leveled at the creature. They I did not want aid in the fight- it would reduce it to a mere operation. “Stay back,” I snarled. “This one is mine, and I swear that I shall see those who interfere dead.”
As the creature drew back a dripping claw, I brought a pointed knee into its side, throwing its bulk off. Finally, an actual fight with something, not a fragile lump of flesh. A second strike, my hand on the blade’s spine; it slid from the curved glacis as the creature growled, smashing me sideways. Sliding along, skidded into a wall, which crumpled.
The creature’s strength was phenomenal, but its agility was subpar. I slipped easily under a talon a blade crossing its face. Two of it fangs shattered, and I took a step back, beginning to circle it again. A trickle of blood oozed from its mouth, painting a vivid crimson trail against the yellowish armor. The initial wound was trivial, but first blood was not.
The creature growled. “It is all a game to you, isn’t it? You think robbing another of life is something to delight in. You sicken me. It is your treatment of this battle that shall allow me to win it.”
My flourish spattered its own drying blood onto its armor. “I have been facing minor opponents, those disassembled with a gesture, your pathetic brood. At last, I have obtained a fight against someone a degree less than I am, and I plan to savor it. Furthermore, where is fun in theft of victory? When I see you crushed, I can take pride. Otherwise, where is the purpose?”
I stepped forward, retracting my blade and grasping a newly extended staff with a single hand. As we sparred across the field, the creature managed to strike me in lower abdomen, tearing up to what would be the lower chest on a normal human. At the same time, I thrust my weapons’ tip forward, smashing the creature’s face. A satisfying crunch marked a fair portion of its face shattering.
I laughed, twisting aside from its blows, torn metal binding already, as I swung maniacally, without concern, wide arcs battering aside its weapon and smashing into its flanks in a dozen spots. “What- defines- man?” My words were punctuated by loud cracks, bone shards bouncing from my face, mere twinges. “Circumstance-” A twist under a claw, lightning fast. “Why do you live?”
“Existence is not a crime. You know-” weapons crossed again, “-well enough.”
I laughed as I swung. “It is, however-” jerking my head to avoid a blade, “reason enough to kill.”
The next five minutes saw several minor wounds exchanged, with none remotely close to bringing the other down. My torso and faceplate were run across with several deep grooves, testaments to my regeneration, my staff bent slightly in a few spots, coated in places with whitish dust from the powdered armor of my opponent. As the creature began to speak again, I straightened it with a slithering sound.
“Just- die!” it shouted as our blades met, my slash pushing its hand back, following in proximity. “You don’t even have a cause!”
Wrenching my hand across, I laughed at the splattering noise as it smashed across its face. “I long since became apathetic to moral high ground. Many held it, and they are moldering corpses. The only quality with tactical sway is combat prowess. And no matter what your high ground, the concrete beneath my feet indicates that we are level.”
There was a crack as my opponent’s fist connected with my stomach. The creature had been holding back much of its strength, given the musculature underneath its armored bulk. I would have to correct my technique for it would not do to reveal my trump card so soon; that was an indicator of weakness.
This time, we continued to batter each other without pause; silence replaced our dissemination; the single edge said all that was asked. A backhanded blow sent my head lolling, half my neck excised with ease. The tide had shifted, my opponent cutting me apart as I reformed my body.
Instead of continuing the tiresome affair, I maneuvered the creature to a wall and pressed the tip of the staff to its chest; my released pulse blew apart the building it was pressed against, a few pieces of rubble shattering against me with a clatter.
edited 30th Apr '10 6:22:05 AM by Morgulion
This is this.It might sound like a silly question, but how does one start writing?
[[tvtropes.org/pmwiki/lb_i.php?lb_id=12919183980B30760200 Liveblog of]] John Carter Of MarsOne starts to be a writer by writing stories, be they novel, short story, or drabble
. Even if the plot is something like "A character wakes up and finds himself incredibly late for work", there's always room for improvement and originality. The character could be in the middle of a desert, for example.
Also, I have a SERIOUS BUSINESS Critique Thread
. The next person to reply doesn't have to leave a critique of the above poster's work first!
edited 2nd May '10 10:53:22 PM by Leradny
Well, I suppose that's a way to start...I'll try to post something in the morning.
[[tvtropes.org/pmwiki/lb_i.php?lb_id=12919183980B30760200 Liveblog of]] John Carter Of MarsI'm currently trying to write my thesis, on Finnish anime subculture. What would be a good example of "Fandom constitutes a particular interpretive community"? I'm thinking fanfiction, though that also falls under the next bit "Fandom constitutes a particular Art World". That, and I don't think there is that much Finnish language fanfiction, and trying to track down, for both these parts, Finnish members of fanfition.net and deviantart cousnd like a herculean task.
HALP PLZ.
Gah, I know, I know, write anything to practice, but honestly, most of the ideas I come with seem so bad as to not be worth writing. I should try to do the whole Large Ham Narm Charm, but...it's hard.
[[tvtropes.org/pmwiki/lb_i.php?lb_id=12919183980B30760200 Liveblog of]] John Carter Of Mars@Morgulion - I like it. The scene is very well written, it's interesting to read, and it's not bland, without being too complex and making the reader loose track.
@Dr Rockopolis - Try writing someting without having any plans for it in advance. Just jot some sentences and see where it goes - that way, 'bad' ideas won't kill your creativity and motivation. You can always edit and add to it later.
Thought
Okay, so I've been playing around with my fantasy story, and have settled on four main protagonists. I should probably try and work out the actual plot before the characters, but meh.
- (Currently nameless) - the aforementioned Heroic Sociopath, prophesied to be the savior of the world. I am not sure how symphathetic I should present this character. She's a horrible, horrible person, but having a main character that the audience is most likely to hate doesn't seem like such a good idea. Any suggestions?
- Takir - androgynous fighter/warrior who uses occational magic. Very kind and somewhat idealistic, but is eventually forced to make some unpleasant choices in order to achieve a greater good. A lot of bad stuff happens to this character.
- (Currently nameless)- A magician, assumed to be a Squishy Wizard at first, but is temporarily robbed of his powers, and proceeds to kick his attackers asses, unarmed and in chains. So pretty much the other kind of Magic Knight.
- (Currently nameless) - His (or her - I haven't decided yet) spouse and children were killed by the Big Bad, and he/she is out for revenge - no matter the cost. He/she doesn't really care about the world coming to an end, as long as he/she can revenge their dead familiy before dying. Leads to conflicting beliefs with the goodhearted Takir.
Any thoughts? Perhaps some ideas regarding names?
Also, what would be the best pronouns to use for Takir? I'd like to avoid Ze and Hir (they sound awkward to me), and my language doesn't allow "they" as a neutral third person pronoun. Should I just stick to either he or she, and then have the other characters refer to Takir differently?
edited 5th May '10 10:09:24 AM by Tjatter
"Sometimes the appropriate response to reality is to go insane"Introduction
Hello all. My name's Tenth Letter, novice writer. I'm pretty snarky, which often reflects in the characters in my book, and can only write a few lines before getting bored and nodding off. Hopefully I'll overcome this and get to writing a sci-fi fantasy thing (I refuse to say masterpiece because if I do, my ego might become larger than my entire brain and crush me beneath it's arrogent weight) Anyway, my genre-of-choice is fantasy, sci-fi or comedy (especially Gaiman and Landy) and I have just ran out of things to say.
edited 3rd May '10 12:35:53 PM by TenthLetter
Never has anything interesting to sayThere's always the lovely site http://www.behindthename.com/
- you can search around for a fitting name there. Maybe you could name your character after some well-known person in Japanese litterature or mythology.
To Tjatter
Thanks for the comment, I suppose that I help you out over here.
If you need to connect a character to an audience, and you can't find any sympathy, turn to the Rule of Cool or Rule of Funny, especially for your main character. Give her a bit of wish fulfillment, (Of course, avoiding Mary Sue territory.) as well as a fun, possibly snarky and sarcastic attitude. Even a tiny dose of a sense of humor in a character can make the audience appreciate them if nothing else. Make her a narcissistic, life-of-the-party, "I am not going to take your crap anymore." type woman.
I personally would do something akin to Jonah, (Or Craig from the Pandemic two-parter on South Park, if you don't feel like reading the Bible.) make them try their damn hardest to Screw Destiny, kill innocent civilians, prevent the good guys from helping and pissing on their plans, maybe jump ship and leave the country just to end up finding the secret plans for the evil side. Granted, that may make it seem like the Heroes are running around not suffering the consequences of their actions, but hell you could even play that up for laughs. (If your willing to take the story in that direction, I personally would rather see a more blase take on fantasy than another stuffy, high fantasy Tolkienesque piece.)
SISSP: Think Jack Sparrow or any other Chaotic Neutral character. Everyone likes to see them, and be them, even if they would never like them.
edited 6th May '10 2:26:15 PM by Yeasayer
Don't ask me. I'm just the yesman.@Yeasayer - Thanks! That helps alot. Finding inspiration in biblical figures is actually a pretty good idea; I might do it with some of the other characters too. Maybe using some other religions/mythologies too.
Would it be too obivous a reference if I named the girl Jerra or some other feminine sounding name beginning with J?
Edit: Darn typos/less than perfect English skills.
edited 8th May '10 10:38:22 AM by Tjatter
"Sometimes the appropriate response to reality is to go insane"Request for comment
My current chapter for Endless Conflict currently lies unfinished and I request some comments on how well done the idea it's going towards.
Currently the chapter has The Rival character Anzan fighting his end of "The Insurgent" arc on a planet called Candora. The place he's at is the primary military command center of the planet at the base of the evergreen forested Kagonawa Mountains called Kalansai station. At present in the story he and six other surviving Preyaran Lancers from an earlier attack in the story have passed through the outer fence and are hold up along a road when they come across some tanks headed for the base.
That's where I have left off.
Where I am planning to go is have Anzan head out and find that the tanks are on his side of the battle and thus showing that the reinforcement possibility hinted at earlier in the chapter has arrived. After that, everybody hitches a ride on the tanks as they make their assault on their corner of Kalansai station. It is here during the fighting that we encounter the first M-tech of the story (which according to dialogue I have planned is a surprise for the characters). During this, the tanks are knocked out by the M-tech and other rebels and the commander of the chapter known as Talen is killed. Anzan and his friend of the story thus far Parus retreat with what few Lancers they still have and prepare to fight the oncoming mecha. After a quick battle involving several anti-tank missiles and return fire, the mech is destroyed and the remaining Preyarans move in on the final part of the battle as Kalansai bears the brunt of the loyalist assault. However the final part of the battle is a Last Stand by the rebels composing of machine guns, rockets, tanks, IFVs and more and in this fighting Anzan's group is all but wiped out (including Parus) however it succeeds in breaking the last major pocket of resistance.
Immediately following the scene ending there, the story pans over to the Preyaran homeworld of Preyara where the Supreme Commander of the Preyaran Lancer Corps Swordmaster Khornan delivers his final report and findings to the Antara Council led by Mistress Bellah. In this the final threads of the arc are revealed showing the Xanatos Gambit brought by the arc's main "villain" Gangee and the coming consequences for the rest of the series. The chapter ends on Khornan saying that open war is now inevitable and that the final, long phase of the eponymous conflict is coming.
The chapter after that details the aftermath from the Terran perspective as events unfold that shape what the rest of the series will be. (From promotions to promises and more.)
So is this any good or what? Unlike other chapters, I did not plan this one ahead as much. It was a kind of Continuity Drift from the original plans especially as earlier Plot Threads opened up new possibilities and new questions that all could use being shown and answered. Originally, the Preyaran side of the arc would have almost been token but fleshing it out as significantly as I have done has in my opinion made it much better. (Though much longer.)
edited 8th May '10 3:56:28 PM by MajorTom
Story Idea
I posted something here earlier about a story I wanted to write in my spare time. Recently, I came up with a final premise:
A college sophomore and his friends take a trip back to his home town. His childhood friend was murdered under strange circumstances when they were little and after all these years, he has finally worked up the courage to visit his grave and pay his respects. Upon returning, he begins to unravel the mystery behind his friend's disturbing murder. He eventually finds that the town is inhabited by an Eldritch Abomination, but not one of the usual type. Instead of changing events on its own, it channels itself through other sentient beings, projecting their Id onto reality.
The story follows the characters as they, for all intents and purposes, fight each other and themselves.
I've got new mythological machinery, and very handsome supernatural scenery. Goodfae: a mafia web serial

I mostly need help with my Witchblade/AU Bleach crossover I thinking about doing.
Here's the premise
Orihime a new girl from Kyoto moves to her father's hometown with her aunt in hopes for a new start. She has dreams of a life of Catherine Baptiste a past wielder of the Witchblade. On her first day of school she unknowingly buys the Witchblade from a vendor and her life is thrown into the Supernatural.
I have a draft of the first chapter that I'm revising but I want to know if the premise is toloralabe.
edited 27th Apr '10 11:58:08 AM by Awakenedgirl
I believe in that the internet majority is wrong and I'm right