vocal
New Member
Posts: 16 
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Post by vocal on Aug 7, 2014 19:21:18 GMT
username // vocal
identity // I, because first person owo
I'm not your average kiamara. I'm above average, you see. I don't have time for your stammering and uneducated remarks; i'm simply too busy with my own thoughts. I do believe i'm quite stunning. I've the finest, softest personality. I'm smart, luxurious, perfect inside and outside. But enough about me. What do you think about me?
I hadn't always realized how perfect I am until quite recently. I was busy helping the elders at a local shelter home-thing when a worker grabbed my wrist and told me to look in a mirror. So I did. Of course, I saw myself, normal as ever, but then he told me I was the most fabulous kiamara in the whole world. H0w could I be so blind? Of course i'm the most fabulous. Sure, I toss others around. Sure, they are afraid of me. But fear is what I thrive on. What is beauty without fear? I like to refer to myself as snow white. I'm the fairest in the land. I'm gifted the finest robes and jewelry to attire myself, and pillows to sleep on, and perfume to bathe in. I'm just so rich and fabulous, you really can't handle it. I'm above all other kiamaras. I'm a gift. They are so lucky to be in my presence. I mean, I really could do without them, but because i'm just so kind, I do happen to allow the viewing of my natural, majestic glow and exceptional, surpassing perfectness. So now what? You can go on and bathe in my glory. I'm not just a royal highness, i'm a royal kiamara, and I deserve to be treated with the upmost respect.
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This is pretty much the way I felt when I woke up in the morning. I stretched and made myself up, all perfect and all, and headed out. I first passed a group of streetwise kiamaras, showed off how splendid I am, but gagged in their face and walked away. Then, I went to the bookstore and read a couple of magazines on how to cook, even though I am pretty fabulous already in the cooking area. I got a couple drinks at my local starbucks and the waiters gave me extras because, well, i'm just so perfect. How could they resist?
I made my way down the street when I saw a child kiamara crying. I didn't bother to stop of course. But then he grabbed my leg and shed his nasty tears upon my shin, and so I felt the need to shake him off. "Ew, what do you want?" I said, looking down at kid. He cried louder. "My mommy is gone!" He weeped, the sound of crying ringing through my delicate ears. I peeled him off of my leg, patting his head distastefully. "Just- sit here, and she'll come pick you up." I really didn't want to get involved. But, in fact, I knew this child was afraid, so I rolled my eyes and picked him up under the armpits, almost gagging. I half-slung him over my shoulder and carried him to the sheriff's office, placing him on a chair. "Find his mommy." I demanded to the officer, pointing at the kid. When the officer agreed, I left. He must have agreed because he couldn't resist my perfection. When I left, I had a tugging to go back. That child would be the destruction of my perfection, though, and I couldn't take the risk. So I strutted down the streets, and left.
{god this was so hard to write ;-; word count; 584} |
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Post by turtlechirp on Aug 7, 2014 19:24:47 GMT
username on CS:
turtlechirp
identity of protagonist:
Rowynn Koçi
story:
Have you ever seen a Brahma Kamal? The Brahma Kamal is a rare lotus named after the creator, in Indian mythology, Lord Bramha. Many people believe it to be a sign of good luck if you see this flower in bloom, because it blooms just once a year, and during the night.
Rowynn Koçi pushed the edge of her sleeve up her arm and shoved her hand in her pocket, taking out a golden pocket watch. “Twelve twenty six PM,” she muttered. She walked out of the small lotus garden, into the hallway of the mansion.
“Why the hell is there a garden in a house anyways? Marlo! Ndihmë Vin dhe Kendrick ngarkesës në anije! Ne duhet të jetë nga këtu në 0100 orë!”
“Marlo! Help Vin and Tomas load the ship! We need to be out of here at 0100 hours!”
Rowynn tossed the sack she was holding over her shoulder and ran out the open side door, and down the cement path, leading to a wooden dock. She boarded her ship, and removed her, sword from its sheath.
Rowynn is seventeen years old, and already widely known across Europe. Known as Robine, most likely based off of the old story of Robin Hood. For good reason as well, Rowynn is a pirate that only steals and murders men and women of high standing that have gained their titles through committing awful deeds themselves.
Rowynn’s originally from the state Kosova, located underneath Serbia in the country of Albania. She was born there in 1993, after the Republic of Kosova was established. She left with her older brother in 2000, right before the disestablishment. She had to leave her parents. And now . . . she’s twenty two now. And her brother died, he was beaten to death by Serbian soldiers, right in front of her eyes.
Rowynn left Kosova and went to live with her Uncle on his ship, the Illyrian, sailing the seven seas.
Her resentment and anger for the Serbian’s has carried her on all these years, even if the war has calmed in her country. Rowynn tends to carry grudges on anyone who crosses her. A few years ago, her Uncle passed from natural causes, and Rowynn is now Captain Koçi to her ship crew and Robine to the rotten people that fear her.
Rowynn stood up and shook her mane, then placing the old leather tricorne on her head. A little hand-me-down from her uncle.
“Vin, ime vesh!” Vin, my coat!
She walked to the Foredeck, but then nearly lost her footing over a misplaced sack of food.
“Aughh! You idiot Tomas! Put the bags in the starboard quarter!”
“But Captain, there’s no room!”
“Then- Then put them in the Port Quarter.”
Rowynn continued to leave the Illyrian and slowly walked back to the Mansion.
Captain Koçi sat in the large wooden chair and chuckled as a large, extravagantly dressed woman entered the room and locked the door.
“Pourquoi bonjour, Mademoiselle Laval,” whispered Koçi in French, testing the sharpness of her shpatar on Madame Laval’s desk.
“Venu de payer votre dette?”
Madame Laval stared at Rowynn, trembling.
"Robine," she whispered under her breath.
word count: 514
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Post by .naturally wild. on Aug 7, 2014 19:30:15 GMT
Mark for post
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Post by commandershepard on Aug 7, 2014 19:55:57 GMT
-joyous yodeling I AM IN SO HARD- username on CS:Commander Shepard identity of protagonist: Irikah story:Irikah sighed in relief, leaning back against a large rock as the pain in her front ankle finally faded. She'd re-soaked and wrapped the bandages at least five times now, and... well, it'd be a miracle if she'd walk properly in the next month or so. Really, she should have gone home the first time she twisted it, but she'd prepared for this trip for... honestly, it felt like her entire life had been leading up to it. All the late nights under a blanket with her flashlight, reading every dragon tale she could get her paws on; every taunt and jape from her peers about how dragons weren't real, she'd never meet one and was just going to waste her life and be some weird creepy old lady living with a million cats... "Like I'd ever live with cats," she snorted, shaking her head. Cats made her allergies act up anyway. After (rather clumsily, and with more than a few choice words) she got a steady fire going, Irikah dug through her pack, pulling out her food-- an MRE ration, something most found quite unpalatable... but the lamb stew was delicious, she'd stocked up on as many as the store had before setting out. While it bubbled and steamed away in its pack, she took out her journal-- a tattered, faded old thing she'd kept since her early teens, and she knew it needed to be replaced soon... but it held every bit of information she'd gotten on her magnificent beasts, and copying all that into something new was just too much of a pain in the tail, it was just easier to put it off. She carefully flipped through until she reached her latest entries-- the strongest lead she'd ever had regarded something known as the 'Green Star'. Decades ago, a strange shooting star had lit the sky with emerald light... and the next year, mountaineers had brought back tales of something living up there. Reports weren't very consistent, but everything pointed to one direction, as far as she was concerned: Dragon.An acrid scent filled the air, and Irikah screeched, unthinkingly tossing the journal aside and grabbing the meal pack... which had started to melt, the plastic oozing all over the ground. As well as Irikah's paws. She cursed under her breath as she shook off what she could, eyes watering from the stench of burning grass, plastic and fur. After several (very long, it felt) minutes, she managed to pick the worst of it off, and sullenly curled up against the rock again, simply tearing off the pouch top and diving her muzzle and tongue inside to eat; she was too irritated to deal with spoons right now-- her legs hurt (especially where the melted plastic had dripped on and been torn off), her ankle had started throbbing again after the commotion, and there was the nagging feeling that something else had gone wrong... but she'd deal with it later, all she wanted to do was eat her stew and sleep. ----------------------- There was definitely something working against her here. That was all that Irikah could focus on as she trudged up the mountainside, her progress often interrupted by having to wrench her (even more sore!) ankles out of the mud before it could suck her in, or the rain running into her eyes... which was often accompanied by mud as she tried to wipe it away. Some brilliant lady of science she was. There was also the matter of the flash flood that had woken her at 'way too early o'clock', she'd barely escaped with her own skin... but she would've liked to escape with all her food. Or at least more than two water-logged pieces of her journal that disintegrated as soon as she tried to pick them up. "What'd I do?" she shouted up at the gray sky (so of course she couldn't even tell what time it was), trying to make her voice audible over the constant rumbling thunder. "Is it really some kind of god-awful crime to want to see a dragon? If there isn't one, I think the disappointment would've been enough!" She knew nothing was going to answer her, but it felt good to yell and blame something, even if it was just clouds. Irikah shook her head, kicking the muddy ground-- and once her paw connected with the solid stone just below, she let out a (quite impressive) hiss of curses.. or at least attempted to, the words just became nothing more than a jumbled mash of gibberish. "Screw it," she muttered, once the pain had faded to the more manageable level it had been all day. "I'm going to find a cave, I'm going to live in it, then I'll just be the damn dragon. Get to keep some dignity and be right, perfect." "You? A dragon?"
Irikah stopped in her tracks, eyes wide and pain entirely forgotten when the rumbling voice met her ears.
There was no way. Not after... everything.
"You might pass as a hatchling... one hatched too early. Perhaps the remnants of a dragon's meal?"
"Honestly, being eaten wouldn't be the worst option at this point," Irikah replied, staring up at the... dragon. Definitely a dragon, and... stomach-clenching terror aside, it was gorgeous, a mostly black hide with scattered... almost nebulous patterns of green and hints of white, like... just like stars.
"Y... are you the Green Star?" the kia asked.
"That I am. Would you like to come inside my cave? I do believe... creatures... such as yourself do not deal well with the cold and rain."
"Yeah. Sure. Why not," Irikah said in a dazed tone, meekly following the dragon as it went up a small (and mercifully, not muddy) path. She hadn't completely thrown out the idea that she'd lost her mind and was hallucinating, but this was significantly more interesting than the little black spots she'd usually see when she was too hungry and tired.
Whatever this was... she had one hell of a story to tell, when-- if-- she got back home.
(Story notes: Irikah is a dragonologist, and is currently on a quest to seek out the fabled Green Star of the Mountains)
{992/1000, complete. Total calculated here.} |
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Ivyy
New Member
Posts: 7
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Post by Ivyy on Aug 7, 2014 20:12:38 GMT
username on CS:
Ivyy
identity of protagonist:
Priscilla | "you"
story:
You don't know what time it is, but it's dark outside. The moon is completely vanished from the night sky and the only light comes from the candles hanging on your cave wall. You are sleepless tonight, like you always are, and you know the second you close your eyes, dreams of horrors and brutality will ravage your mind. The nightmares have kept you awake many nights, and tonight is no different.
Instead of throwing a pity-party, you stand up slowly on your feet. You take gentle, soundless steps and exit the cave. Outside, it's a lot colder. You shiver and observe your surroundings. Your cave is at the base of a large mountain, which ascends until the clouds wrap around it and it fades from vision. In front of you is more land, covered in trees and greenery as far as the eye can see. It's a very beautiful spot, but quite lonely as well. Not many others pass through these parts. You assume it's because this is the deepest part of the forest, the most dangerous and unexplored.
However, on occasion you do spot others wandering through your land. You always invite them inside. Whether that habit is out of loneliness or kindness, you don't know.
You have learnt that offering shelter to visitors has saved lives. Most of them are ill or hurt, and you came to realize that you are the only one around to help. Thankfully you know a thing or two about medicine.
You are a shaman. A healer. It's your job to help people.
You practice shamanism religiously and you devote yourself to serving others. You have treated many patients throughout your lifetime, and you're a wealth of knowledge. You have written down everything you know and have over 20 thick books filled with your thoughts.
You're a spiritual Kiamara, with all kinds of trinkets hanging inside your cave. Their purposes are diverse, some with healing properties and others for good luck. You collect lots of items, plants, feathers, and bones. Anything you get your hands on can serve a purpose. Everything has a healing property and you know how to use each and every one of them.
You also trade for items out in the village. The town is far from your home, and once every few months you make the journey to the market. Typically, you survive off of resources from the forest, but nature can't provide everything. Usually, you buy books and paper, rope, or specialty items. Sometimes you splurge and get yourself jewelry- you are a sucker for shiny gems.
Overall, your collection is massive and you are proud of it.
Present time, you begin your travel again. You decide that tonight's walk will lead you to the river. It's a raging, frigid current that runs throughout the forest and is a good spot to look for trinkets. Items and goods get picked up and carried downstream, where you wait to hopefully find something useful. You hum to yourself as you walk, eyes closed. You know the forest so well you don't need to see.
Soon enough you find yourself at the shore. The sound of the running water is loud, it fills your ears. You squint against the spraying mist as you slip your paws into the water. It's refreshing, and you sigh in relief.
As you stare down into the depth of the water, something calls to you from a distance. You look up, eyes narrowed, listening for the noise again. A wailing noise, so pitiful and small, comes from upstream. You take a step forward, instinct keeping you alert.
There.
A small, auburn bundle is being carried along by the water. On the other side of the stream you see another kiamara, running and shouting. She looks distressed and your heart twinges in panic. The bundle, screaming and flailing, disappears under the water for a few seconds before reappearing again.
"My baby!" The female kiamara across the river cries. Your heart is pounding, eyes locked on the cub that is being swept downstream. He is getting closer to you, and will be past you in seconds. You take a sharp breath and plunge into the water, cold darkness rising up above your head. Don't waste any time.
Your legs kick, naturally, and you propel yourself to the surface. You inhale deeply before struggling towards the crying cub. The mother is still running along the shore, shouting.
You're getting closer to him now, but it's hard to keep yourself surfaced in the rough current. The baby is quiet now, and you pray to the spirits that he is okay. Hopefully it's only shock from the cold water.
As he passes you, you scream at your muscles to propel you further. Your hind paw finds a rock deep under the water, and you use it to kick off. It gives you some acceleration, just enough to grab hold of the cub's scruff. You do your best to hold him above water as you begin swimming towards shore.
You're panting heavily by the time you reach sand. You carefully drop the cub in a patch of grass, sides heaving as you search for breath. Your head is spinning and your body shivers from the cold. When you manage to push your mane out of your eyes, you see the mother running towards you. She's crying, thanking you, won't stop talking. You want her to calm down.
The cub stirs next to you, coughing up some water before rolling onto his side. His mother nuzzles him and you smile weakly, glad the two of them are okay.
"He was playing in the water, he must've slipped. One second he was there, the next he was gone." She's rubbing her eyes with her paw. "Thank you so much. You saved his life."
"It's no problem. That's what I do." You're tired, just want to lay down.
"You must be an angel sent to protect him. What's your name?"
"Priscilla."
word count:
998/1000 w |
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PFDC
New Member
"Dangerous work, but that’s the job of a firefighter!"
Posts: 16
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Post by PFDC on Aug 7, 2014 20:19:32 GMT
So no description whatsoever? Because I want a specific color scheme/ a fan character. Any way to hint that without giving a full description?
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Post by citric on Aug 7, 2014 20:22:25 GMT
username on CS - Citric identity of protagonist - Her name is Brisa, which means 'breeze' or 'wind'.
story - "Freedom Dream" Hi. My name is Brisa, which means 'wind'. My mom named me that because when I was born, all I wanted to do was stare at the sky and lift my tiny paws up to feel the wind on my fur. And not only when I was a pup; I still do that. As I grew up, all I could think about was the sky. People called me a daydreamer, always saying that I had my 'head in the clouds'–I wish! I was fascinated by birds and everything else that could fly. If you haven't guessed it already, I was one of those little kids who taped paper feathers to my wings and jumped off the roof to try to fly. I lived in a small town, so nothing really big happened in my life when I was young. I felt stuck in the same routine my whole childhood, felt stuck on the ground. I knew it was a childish fantasy, but I had made it my lifelong goal to be able to fly, actually fly, like a bird. Everyone always scoffed at me when I told them, but I kept on telling people when I was asked. My true friends were the ones who didn’t put me down for it or say that it would never happen, and I didn’t care what anyone else thought. As soon as I was old enough I said goodbye to my parents and flew the coop, leaving my hometown and feeling a sense of freedom I had never felt before. I was a nomad for a while, going where it felt right and always on the move. One place that stuck with me, though, was a little costal town. I remember walking to the cliff that hung over the ocean and the rocky beach. I had stood on my hind legs, leaning on the fence, and stuck my face into the seabreeze; it felt amazing, with the salty air and misty feeling rushing over my fur and muzzle. I had leaned out over the water, spreading my arms like they were wings and tipping forward, feeling complete and utter freedom in the air. I almost fell off the cliff into the crashing waves, in fact, until my backpack strap caught on the fence. That pure happiness I felt lasted only a second, but it was better than a lifetime of being tied to the earth. By this time I was an adult, and the realization that I had almost been willing to die to feel that freedom grounded me a bit. I settled down in an urban city, made some connections to tie me down, and got used to the pattern of the city. I was a social butterfly for a while, getting a little crazy, doing some off-an-on acting gigs that I realized I was good at after taking a little class at the insistence of a friend. I went to the local amusement park often; the roller costars and some other rides gave me some of that little thrill I lived for. My life was steady, but it still felt incomplete. I’d say one of the biggest moments in my life was when I met Lyra. She was spunky, funny, and sweet, and she became my best friend. One day I decided to ask her what she did for a living, something I did not often do seeing as most of my friends were wanderers when it came to the working world. Lyra told me that it would be better to show me, and since I did not have often had conflicts, I went. It surprised me more than anything when she took me to a circus. Not one of those animal-containing, clown-filled circuses, mind you–a circus like Cirque de Soleil, with acrobats and beauty and music. I was purely astounded, especially when I saw my dear friend Lyra flying through the air after leaping off a trapeze, before suddenly being caught by another trapeze artist swinging up to her. I was enraptured, to say the least. Lyra took me to her gym the next day, a special gym without weights or treadmills; instead it had soaring trapezes, flowing silks, fabric ropes, and a circle of kiamaras on the ground contorting themselves into seemingly unnatural but somehow beautiful poses. Lyra knew about my passion for the air, and the first thing she did was lead a rather dazed me to a metal ladder. She hooked me up to some kind of harness, and I climbed up to a platform. Everything I was doing felt clear and focused, as opposed to my previous experiences of the freedom of flying where I just let go of the world and relaxed. Other sounds faded into the background, and each concise command met my ears with an immediate reaction. My paws gripping the bar, I soared through the air, hooked my paws on the bar, and at the last second, arched up and stared at the ceiling above me. At that moment, it felt like I was looking through it, and I saw the clear sky stretching endlessly before me. I let go with my paw, and fell through the air.
The moments before I hit the net slowed down, and I felt like I was sinking through water, for each moment stretched into the the next for what seemed like forever. When I finally hit the tough ropes and rolled off to land on my feet on the ground, I knew–I just flew, really flew, for the first time in my life, and I would never let it go.
A couple years later I find myself on a platform above a roaring crowd. Their cheers seemed to dim, though, as I stepped forward, the music filling my ears. Perfectly in time with the beat, I fly through the air, spiraling and twisting and flying through empty space to the tune of whatever I imagined.
I was free. word count: - (1000/1000 w) |
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Post by -- Chainsaw -- on Aug 7, 2014 21:02:23 GMT
I stood in the shower, the curtain shut and yet no water was running. My hands were trembling; refusing to reach forward and turn on the warm, soothing rain. Of course, that's what most people might consider it - but not me. I was terrified, and not of the Eastern Cottonmouth Snake draped around my neck. No, I love my snakes, in fact most would consider me a ''collector'' and maybe I am in fact just that, though in all honesty I have a huge soft spot for venomous snakes. Strangely enough, I'm immune to their toxins which makes me even more curious about them. But while I'm not scared of my scaly companions I am afraid of one thing and one thing only....
Water.
Attempting to swallow my fear, i reached up with one hand to pet Emily, the Cotton Mouth, before slamming my other hand into the shower wall. "Dammit..." i whispered to myself, hanging my head as I began to cry. "DAMMIT!!" I said again, louder this time hitting the wall again and looking up. "I'm trying dad, I really am..." I whimpered, sliding down the wall and removing Emily from my neck to let her roam free. "I'm sorry...says myself..."
As a Marine Biologist, it was rather embarrassing that I was deathly afraid of water. But I went to school and studied for this job to try overcoming my fears. I thought maybe - just maybe - if I learned more about the water and what was in it, if I understood the cold blue depths it and it's ways, I wouldn't be afraid of it anymore.
Even though I was an adult myself, I felt small: vulnerable when in the water. I never saw my parents a lot when I was younger, as my father was in the navy(more water, amazing) and my mother was too quiet. It was around this time I got into snakes, since I always wandered off to try making friends and often stumbled upon the creatures and got bit(not that it affected me too much, like I said; immune.)
After crying in the bathtub, curled up in the fetal position for quite a while, I wiped my eyes on my arm fur and stood up. Emily had slithered out into the next room, but when I wrapped myself into a comfort blanket and stepped out of the bathroom for myself, it was no surprise that there were more snakes out and about. I didn't really bother keeping them contained, in my mind it was cruel to confine an animal to a space not much larger than themselves.
It wasn't long until I spotted Wilde, and along with him Bronte. God, I loved venomous snakes...but I didn't have as many as I'd like. I still love the babies I do have though, and I always will; Bronte, Wilde, Oscar, Dan, Webster, Goethe, Keats, Wordsworth, and last but not least Emily. My best friends, my family.
Busying myself with rounding all the serpents up and holding them in my arms or around my neck, I felt a forked tongue tickle the inside of my ear with an all too familiar hiss along with it. With a frown I responded; "No, Keats. Unfortunately I didn't get any closer today, says myself." I told the small Twig Snake before letting a small smile appear on my face. "But hey, that doesn't matter right? I can always try again tomorrow - and I'm sure I'll get it soon. These....these things just take time. Says myself." I had picked up a habit of ending my sentences with 'says myself', in order to separate what i say from what my snakes say. People on the streets think I'm crazy, but I don't think a definition of normal actually exists. Or whether I can actually understand my reptiles, or if it's just my imagination.
Grabbing a black, fuzzy jacket, I began to put it on: adjusting a snake here or there to get it into a comfortable position for all of us, when I felt a sharp pain in my hand and yanked back; pulling my Gaboon Viper, Goethe, along with me with a hiss. "What the hell Goethe?!? Says myself!" She hissed back at me angrily, and I raised an eyebrow. "Oh...sorry. I didn't mean to pinch your tail with the button, says myself." I said, my tone softening again as I continued putting the jacket on; my hand bleeding from where Goethe bit me. "You're lucky I'm going out today, I can pick up some more band-aids Goethe. Otherwise I might need to stay home because of blood loss - says myself." I said, stepping out the door with all nine of my snakes, breathing in the crisp air as I started down the sidewalk; smiling as familiar stares pierced my skin.
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805 Words
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toast
New Member
Hi
Posts: 10
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Post by toast on Aug 7, 2014 21:15:32 GMT
username on CS: .Toast
identity of protagonist: (name or alias or feature that distinguishes them from others in the story AKA how we will know who to design) Maihego, female, adult
story: Umm h-hi, my names Maihego but you can call me Mai. I-it's nice to meet you, so I guess I should tell you a little about myself. I was born in 1995 in a farm on the boarders of Italy and I've lived there ever since, my family are gone now so I'm the only one who lives here. I still do all the work like milking the cows, collecting the eggs and trimming the sheep without it I wouldn't be able to pay for the land or house. I really enjoy working here by myself because I'm very shy and I like animals a lot, don't tell anyone but I like the chickens the most. Getting back to the point, my full name is Maihego pronounced like May-he-go, I enjoy reading under the big oak tree near the barn, drawing animals, baking and being alone. My favourite kind of book is a book about animals because they inspire me. If you're wondering my favourite time of the day is dawn and I dislike midday, I enjoy eating apples but only the green ones because they are more juicy. By the way my favourite colour is teal and I dislike hot pink, my voice is high pitched but not too high pitched as you hear. I have one pet called jam and he is a red panda, weird for the boarders of Italy rights? My clothing consists of a brown hat, a red checkered bandana which I have on my neck and tail and I also wear a glove on my left arm. I wear these when I work but never overheat in them. My favourite time of the year is autumn and my favourite month is August, I like when it rains because it makes my hair go wavy when it dries. I dislike the snow because it's too cold and I prefer heat, I can speak two languages which are Italian and English. I usually speak in Italian to my family and people I see but I speak in English to my friends, some people have suggested I start Italian lessons but since I'm shy I decide not to. My favourite smells consist of freshly cut grass, towels, wheat and apples, I dislike the smell of cars, paint, clay and fire. I'm not a genius but I am good at maths, I need to be to know how much of each crop I'm planting, I also have a fantastic memory. In my free time I read or bake and my favourite thing to bake is a strawberry tart. The things I dislike the most are loud sounds/music, selfish people, planes and very serious people. I've enjoyed talking to you and I guess we're friends now! I'm very shy to new people but once I get to know them as a friend I'm not shy anymore, since I feel comfortable around you that means we're friends. I hope to see you around, goodbye for now!
word count: (497/1000 w)
Please note that it's written in first person
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Post by toastingcinnamon on Aug 7, 2014 21:23:03 GMT
username on CS:
ToastingCinnamon
identity of protagonist:
Kalona meaning Town In Iowa
Female name
story:
"Hmph..." Kalona lets out a sigh of relief, impatiently flicking her tail.
The sun is at its peak in the sky, beams of light casting yellow shades on the surrounding plant life. Bird song echoes through the trees while the faint chirping of insects resonates within the leaves scattered across the ground.
A sign only a few feet ahead is labeled with a chipped, poorly-painted diagram of winding forest trails. The writing must mention the name of the area, although it is much too faded to discern against the ragged wood.
"...Couldn't have taken longer. What a trek, this place is in the middle of nowhere. This is it, though." She whispers under her breath.
Her eyes divert from the sign and onto the winding trail ahead of her. The path is almost completely overgrown with vines and weeds, and the trees seem to curve over the trail, creating the illusion of a tunnel.
Do the rangers here even try anymore? Kalona scoffs and reaches for a pack strapped to her side, pulling out a canteen of water. The morning had promised cool weather, although by the time she reached her destination the heat has become almost unbearable.
I’d better get going. She forces herself forward, taking great care to avoid the poison ivy interlacing the middle of the trail. The canopy overhead provides decent cover from the blinding sun, and the shade provides relief from the scorching heat.
Another several miles into the trek, the trail disperses onto a wide rock outcrop. The roaring of a waterfall can be heard just beyond the edge. Kalona carefully makes her way to the edge, her eyes alight with excitement at her find. Finally here!
A few minutes later, she picks up on a strange sound coming from nearby. What is that…? The sound almost resembles a faint bird chirping. Confused, Kalona searches out the source of the sound.
…Birds?
Hidden behind a patch of vines is a small nest filled with small birds. She can tell the nest must be newly hatched, as the birds are still very poofy, their eyes barely open. A sudden pang of sympathy hits her. Where is the mother of these birds?
It’s so hot outside… I’ll wait here a while. The mother must be nearby.
Another hour passes and Kalona gazes up into the canopy for any signs of the mother bird, although nothing has changed. The baby birds’ chirps are becoming louder now, and she glances at them worriedly.
I should take them home, it’s not safe for them here.
Kalona cautiously reaches out a paw to the birds, slipping her hand under the interwoven twigs to keep from damaging the nest. The birds’ chirping becomes quieter as she gently lifts the nest and begins to carry it back down the trail to where she arrived from. She grits her teeth, confused as to where the mother has gone. Why would she abandon the little birds?
“If no one else will take care of you, I will.” She coos reassuringly.
word count:
(506/1000 w)
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simon
New Member
Posts: 14
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Post by simon on Aug 7, 2014 22:26:28 GMT
username on CS: simon
identity of protagonist: Linus, the narrator
story:
I wake up in a trance. The dim lights flicker on and off as I blink, trying to focus on getting up. I don't think I can. I don't think I can stand another day of this torture.
It's an endless cycle. Wake up, get ready, go to work, get home, go to bed. It's a cycle that numbs the soul. It's a cycle that I just can't take anymore.
I stand up. My knees shake as I try and gain my balance. My paws begin to tingle and I loose feeling in them.
I fall into the bathroom. I look at my reflection to see such a troubled Kiamara. Why me?, I ask myself as I splash chilling water onto my face.
My life was supposed to be different. My life was supposed to be action packed, full of adventure and life. And now what? I am reduced to the life of a normal desk job feeding off of the wants of everyone else. Everyone but me.
I take a glance at the 'family' photo on my dresser. Yeah, some family. The same 'family' has done nothing but ostracize me.
Why do I even keep this stupid picture? I should just throw the stupid thing in the trash. It would be better suited there instead of constantly reminding me of my horrible life.
I smash the photo onto the ground and nothing happens to it. It stays perfectly solid. Perfectly intact. Why can't my life stay intact?
I scream as loud as I can and cry, burying myself into my lost hopes and my lost dreams. I sob uncontrollably. Where am I? I ask myself. How could I have let myself go like this.
That's it. I can't take it anymore. I'm not going to work... Ha, no way. This time I'm for real. I'm going to get out of this stupid place. I'm going to make something with my life.
I hop onto my laptop and look for the perfect place to get away.
It has to be cold there. No, tropical.
It has to be quite. No, there needs to be people.
Ugh!!! There is no place to hide.
What about Fiji? Yeah, I'll run away to Fiji.
I buy tickets to the next flight to Fiji. I take the biggest suitcase I own and jam it full of random cloths. I stare at the picture on the ground and I pick it up. Tears are still flowing down my face and drops fall onto the glass of the picture. I stuff it into the bag and run to my car. I shove the suitcase into my truck and get behind the wheel.
I tense up.
I breath.
I can't do it. I drive to work.
word count: 459
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Post by Ravendarus on Aug 7, 2014 22:32:31 GMT
username on CS: Ravendarus
identity of protagonist: Blythe the Hunter
story:
I felt myself hit the chair long before my eyes fluttered open ever so slowly. Dazed and beaten my eye ached as I could feel it was probably black from the blow that knocked me into the chair. I frowned as I felt him bond my hands.
I couldn’t breath, he was before me, my eyes widened, and the pain tore through my side as his blade pierced it. I screamed in pain, I couldn’t help but let it out. Slowly I managed to catch my breath again as the pain resided away, it still stung but it wasn’t as sharp as it had been but moment ago. I glared up with an icy gaze. “How dare you girl.” He said spitting into my face, I scowled; I wasn’t just any girl.
I was a hunter.
This was my life, this was nothing compared to everything I had been through…
“You little” he growled reaching in to grab me, I let a small smirk escape onto my lips as he moved in, I swiftly thrush my body forwards smacking myself right into his stomach causing him to gasp in pain and fall over. I broke free of my bonds and stood up rubbing my wrist, I turned and placed my foot onto his face causing him to groan, “Don’t you know better then to mess with a hunter?” I asked him, his eyes widened, “I-I thought…” he stammered, “You thought wrong buddy” I said kicking his head with a quick motion.
He yowled in pain, and then in all but a sudden… he let out a loud roar, his body changed, morphing into a huge dog like creature. “So you’re a Were, I thought that smell was wet dog” I smirked at him, he growled viciously at me, I jumped back carefully smirking a bit, “Well then, this just got interesting” I said narrowing my eyes.
I turned and whipped out my stake turning and stabbing him in the chest watching his body jerk from the force and then the light surrounded him as his body started to glow bright I had to close my eyes, and soon he disappeared into nothing but ash.
I sighed carefully and rubbed my wrist again, I picked up my stake and looked around, silently I slipped out of the abandoned room and glanced to where I was, in a warehouse… typical.
When you kidnap a girl, couldn’t you take them somewhere fancy? That’d be nice. However it was also just a dream, I snorted and shrugged it off making my way swiftly away from this place. I frowned, ‘great’ I thought, ‘this is going to leave a stain on my record’ I muttered though my brain as I broke into a run.
I slowed as I got closer into town, I glanced at the sign and sighed, “Welcome to Vatic” I said walking into the main city in the Fey Society. I suppose, I should enlighten you a bit.
Welcome to the Fey Society, where the supernatural live outside the realm of human understanding. In the City of Vatic we live peacefully. I know you have many questions, but I have very little time to answer, you have so much to learn while you are here. I suggest you pay attention.
My name is Blythe, I am the last of my kind. I am the only heir to the Hunter line, and no before you ask I am certainly not royalty. I’m just your average supernatural hunter who pretends to be a normal girl in the day and fade off into a different realm at night to slay evil monsters that you will probably never know about.
Perfectly normal.
word count:
(606/1000)
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Post by destiny on Aug 7, 2014 22:38:11 GMT
username on CS:
Destiny
identity of protagonist: Violet
story:
She tucked her hair behind her ear pensively, starring at the ground, standing on the side walk in front of one of the tallest buildings in New York. She bet that she look absolutely puny in comparison, she felt absolutely puny. She shuffled on her feet, and then she shuffled again, wiping slightly sweaty palms against her skirt. The skin beneath her fur was cooling, but she still had to focus on her breathing and think hard on the thoughts flowing through her mind, her brow furrowing.
"I think you should give the company speech," her boss had utter those last words to her not 5 minutes before. He didn't say it like a suggestion, he said it like an order, in a quick bark as he walked away. She had smiled, and even laughed a small birdish, tinkling laugh, tried to stay calm, when he'd first made the suggestion from behind her.
"I think you're a pretty amazing writer, Violet, I think you should deliver the company 'thank you', at the employee appreciation dinner."
"Thank you Sir," she could feel her skin burning red, "But Im honestly not that great," she tried to say it with confidence, but it came out like the weak excuse it was. She honestly wouldn't mind, but the idea of standing in front of five hundred people, delivering a speech, literally made her want to turn and run screaming, or shrink into a ball fetus position. The likely situation would be the latter of the two.
"You're kidding yourself," he was blunt, he always was. He didnt even look at her, really, he was in his own world then, going on about the speech, and how all the employees loved her. Shed been working as the head secretary for 5 years now, he said, been writing up all the emails and news letters, been in all the meetings and she always new what was going on. In fact if she wasnt so terrible at calculus, he added, she might be able to run the company herself, speech...speech...speech.
She wasnt even listening anymore, she was looking at the ground, her eyes probably as big as plates. A SPEECH!? A SPEECH!?!?! Those were the immediate thoughts running through her head.
Who did he think she was? Certainly not the, keep to herself, organized, head in a book, secretary. She mostly delegated things, to the younger, more willing to do, part time secretaries anyways now. She also wasn't a writer at all. Or at least she wasnt now. She wanted to be. When she first started working for the publishing company, she thought she was really going to make it then. She had big dreams, she was going to share her stories, they were never going to say no. But they did say no, and then she was busy being a secretary, and she forgot all about it. She sort of became angry then, if she was such an "amazing writer" why didnt he ever choose to publish her stories? He was only saying those nice things now to get her to write, and deliver the speech he didnt want to do.
"Huh?" she turned from starring at the many cars driving by, at the sound of him stopping mid speech, "What is it Violet?" he was looking concerned then. It was then that she realized she had let out a little huff of frustration. Her skin hadnt stopped burning with embarrassment and anxiety, but just then it began to feel like lava. She bet if anyone else had huffed like she had, they'd get a wrap up side the head, he was that kind of boss. He was sort of like the grandfather of the company, slightly younger, and he really liked Violet. It was only natural that he was naive to what a frustrated Violet sounded or looked like.
"Do you have a sore throat? Better get that fixed. You know you'll have to deliver the speech in..." he glanced at his large Rolex, "5 days, 4 hours, and 3 minutes!" he seemed pleased with himself, and she felt the need to role her eyes.
"I dont have a sore throat, Sir I really honestly cant deliver a speech, it'd be even worse if I wrote it myself, pl-" but she didnt get to finish her sentence. He cut her off with how great she was, how he believed in her and maybe if she did something like this, it would help her become even better. Better enough to become the kind of writer he knew she could be, thats why he wanted her do this. He said the last part as if he was coming up with it as he went along, and he seemed pretty pleased that he had come up with it. He was doing this because he thought, she could be better eh? He really did want to publish her? She squinted her eyes, and then huffed again, this time turning away, she felt light headed.
"I think you should give the company speech," and like that he was gone down the street to get in the back of his fancy BMW.
She got in the back of a Taxi then and starred out the window. Was he being honest? Truthfully under his rough exterior he was a really nice boss, even smart.
Was she even capable of writing a speech? She though so, maybe she could just see. She tucked her hair behind her ear again, and began to jot down the speech. She had really missed writing for fun, in her spare time. She couldn't even really remember why she had given up on herself in the first place. The words came faster, and faster, and she felt herself light up. If she could write this speech, she could write a story afterwords, she could write whatever she wanted. She felt like she was on the stage already then, blooming like a flower, smiling, accepting the applause.
word count: (1000/1000 w)
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rose
New Member
I'm a non-owner. Sorry!
Posts: 7
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Post by rose on Aug 7, 2014 22:50:41 GMT
Mark
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kankridj
New Member
talk guardians of the galaxy to me
Posts: 9
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Post by kankridj on Aug 7, 2014 22:58:23 GMT
Rocket
------------------------------------------------ * Note: This is in the perspective of Amelia, owned by shibuki. I have permission to use her in this story. uvu
He was the craziest, strangest kiamara I had ever met. At first, Rocket seems to be that showy, narcisstic type of person that people have the displeasure of knowing. He was arrogant, competitive, always ready to start a fight. Even with these strange creatures, that I had no clue about, Rocket challenged, puffing out his chest as a sign of toughness. He was basically your average, antagonistic kiamara. Except, he lived in space, owned a spaceship, and his friends were aliens. Strangely. I don't remember how our first encounter went, but I can tell you I didn't end up talking to him for weeks. I was nervous and tongue tied and feeling so anxious and shy towards him. The only thing I had spoken to him was yes, I want to go to space, and my name was Amelia. You'd think that due to his ego, he'd command me to speak, even threaten me off the ship if I dared to go quiet. Instead, Rocket directed me to the front of the ship, where the galaxies shined brighter than any other place on the ship. "Whenever I'm feelin' lonely or depressed, I stop the ship and just look out to the stars. I remind myself you're never truly alone; there's so many creatures out there. I know there is, because I've met them. They'll always be there, and so I should never feel like I'm alone." He spoke, and pulled something out of a box near his seat. It was a photo of a planet I had never seen before. He ruffled his hair with one hand, grinning. "Look, I'm in this picture!" "...I-It's a p-picture of a p-planet." "But I'm in it! I think I blinked, though." That was the first time I laughed around him, and finally gave him a chance. -- Don't misunderstand me, though; Rocket wasn't a friendly kiamara. The ego I mentioned earlier on? That ego was Rocket most of the time, even around me. Rocket was a ill-tempered kiamara, acting out against his boss and actively trying to anger the people he was supposed to catch. -- "Alright, looks like we're here. That glob is just the creature I'm lookin' for." Rocket spoke, parts of his sentence muffled by the mask that he adorned. He idly flipped pages in his book, determining what species the criminal was. "I-I don't think t-this is a great idea. H-He looks like h-he's p-pretty angry." "It's a she, Amelia, and all criminals look like that. I probably look like that." "W-We're wearing m-masks, no one c-could tell." "Don't hate the mask. It's the only thing keeping you alive on this planet." Pulling his gun out, he closed the book and passed it over to me, barging through the doors. I hurriedly flipped through the pages, gasping as I saw the picture and information of the criminal glossed into the book. I could already hear blasts in the-resturaunt? was it even that?- and I, myself, went through the doors. The glob laid on the floor, screaming angrily under Rocket. "R-Rocket! T-That thing..." "Was really easy to take down, don't ya think?" "T-That thing can't die! It a-absorbs and enlarges with whatever you blasted it with!" "....We need to run. Right now." Jumping quickly over the growing glob, he grabbed my hand and ran through the doors, while managing to unequippe something from his belt and throw it in the direction of the restaurant. "Don't look back." "W-W-" I didn't even complete my sentence when I heard a loud boom, bright lights from the corner of my eye, and Rocket yelling something that I didn't want to repeat. His ship's door opened, and we both jumped through and tumbled across the hard, metallic floor. The door closing and the ship automatically rocketing upwards. "My boss is gonna kill me." -- I think that ego is just for show, though. Rocket's gotta act tough to catch criminals of the galaxy, and he has to be the best at it. He has to show his boss shouldn't regret hiring him. Sometimes, he lets his guard down a bit, lets that outward shell go and becomes something that's nervous and fearful. It's at these times that he's curious of Earth, and what kiamaras are. He wonders a lot; Rocket doesn't remember anything of his Earth, or his adolescence, for that matter. All he remembers was that he trained to be in his career, can only breathe out of his spaceship with his mask, and was the only kiamara in space that he knew of. That's all the knowledge he'll ever need, his boss had told him. He gets scared, because he's not like any other creature. He doesn't know how much he can handle, or what he's capable of doing. From what I've told him about, he can't handle much. Unlike these "aliens", who can deal with an insane amount of pain and can throw their lives as carelessly as they please, Rocket's only got one life and can only handle so much before he's gasping on the floor, shoving his mask onto his face so no one can see how weak he's being. I'm glad these moments are rare and almost always short, like Rocket realizes what he's doing and stops. I hate to think about how he's going to be when I need to be taken back home. The thoughts make me feel sa- ["Amelia, have you seen my digital guide? Cillian's askin' for it, but I can't find it anywhere! Amelia!" "R-Rocket, relax. Didn't you already give it to Cillian? I-I swore he came in here and took it from the table at the deck." "Cillian, you lyin' thief! I swear I'll blas-"] Yeah, the moments are very rare. Usually, you get Rocket, the foul-mouthed kiamara with a superiority complex. He's the strangest, but he's also the most interesting kiamara I've met. I'm so glad it was him that fulfilled my wish to go to space. I wouldn't wish for any other way. ------------------------------------------------ 1000/1000 * I apologize greatly for editing; the coding looked weird and the "titles" broke, so I uploaded them to another side. I understand if this gets me disqualified, and thank you for the opportunity. |
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