Week Eight! For anyone who doesn't know: this will thread will contain a week's worth of writing exercises to be completed each day. I'll give out 5 points per regular exercise, 10 points per bonus exercise, and 15 per "super bonus" exercises. You may do as few or as many of the exercises as you want. Anyone is allowed to join up at any time, but please let me know in a PM if you want to be added to our tag and scoring list.
Our goal here: Ultimately, fun, but I very strongly believe that the encouragement of your peers, a little friendly competition, and some light-goal setting combined with consistent practice is an excellent path to becoming a better writer.
ONE IMPORTANT RULE: DO NOT REPLY TO ANY OTHER WRITER'S POST. I will indicate where to reply to post your work and if you want to praise a fellow writer, please do it in the appropriate "feedback thread" that I posted. We don't want writing posts locked here, it isn't fair to people who want to edit later.
Monday! This week is "character roles and relationships," part two!
You've created your heroic band, hopefully, in the past week. (If you haven't, please go back and do that now: link ) Now, where is the opposition and what's the story from the other side's view? Yes, it's time to create the leader of the opposing "Five bad band," usually known simply as the 'Big Bad' or 'The villain.' They are usually the hero's biggest road-block to success and they're often responsible--either in part or completely, directly or indirectly--for the hero's problems.
They're usually very intelligent, often an expert schemer and chess master of sorts, frequently capable of commanding loyalty from armies of goons or using their team to its fullest potential. A key trait is that they are in control (whether openly or while operating from the shadows) and will be damned before anyone or anything will pry that control out of their iron fist.
So. Who is your villain? What makes them a formidable foe? What is their connection to the hero and why are the two of them add odds with each other? What ambitions does he or she have? What is it that makes others follow them? Are they beautiful? Charismatic? Rich? Did they use threats and intimidation? Magic? Mind-control? Politics? Maybe they murdered their way to the top. Or, perhaps their insanity is just too much fun and their minions do it for the lulz. On the other hand, do they even have mooks / armies, or is the rest of their five bad band all they have?
Bonus: Write the scene where your villain truly became a villain, the event that truly set them on this dark path.
(REPLY TO THIS POST WHEN YOU DO THIS EXERCISE.)
@31TeV @ecoLyte @TheNewIAP @Ogre11 @SpartacustheGreat @Morgan_R @Swiftstryker @betaband @nmelssx @Sethaniel @Malkalack @Briar_Rose @MatGods @Wolfmist @bjhovey @AWarriorFan @FazzTheMan @Claw2k11 @Romulus @ISentinelPenguinI @GrottyStatute74 @WarriorCatsRPS @Confused @jamescoker1226 @pinkalily21 @NeoTheCreator @jaryeth @DerpBacon @Penworth @Loki
@TacocaT ...Time? You said you didn't want to be added to the tag / score list, so ... does doing it on time matter? (Unless you want to be added now, in which case, point 2 -- > ) Besides, because I'm encouraging you guys to go back and finish week 7 so this cast has its context of an opposite, I'll probably add a time extension for this one anyway.
If you prefer to break it up into sections, though, because doing all five at a time or doing all five heroes first is daunting, you could just do one member of each per day. I'm fine with that. It's just that the whole concept of these exercises is to show the connections between all of these people, whether it's their teammates, their enemies, their opposites, or the supporting cast / 'little people.'
Nah. I don't want to be tagged for every new day/week, nor do I want a points for such a little bit of writing. Here, you can get more points for writing a little bit of stuff then you would for a storygame. So, hence my want for not being added to the tagging/scoring list. I'll still be doing the exercises every once in a while, and I'll try and be like any other participant with getting stuff in on time and sticking to the topic.
I like the idea of making a bad-guy gang, but the idea of writing in the hero gang to go with it first is a bit daunting and I doubt I could finish it within even two or three weeks.
Well, if you're doing this purely for fun, you could just do it whenever. If you don't care about score, the over-arching story, or their connection to the heroes, you could just make the bad guys.
I suppose that would work, though I'm trying to be like any other participant minus the tagging/scoring.
Heroes in progress...
But here's this villain anyway:
Bonus goes first, because I'm feeling chronological today:
"Wow." the word was rolled off of Bovski's tongue enthusiastically, as he continued in his thick accent, "What a great crowd."
The great crowd was silent.
"Last audience I had was back in home country. All were dead from freezing."
The crowd was awash with weird facial expressions.
"So, soldier is walk down street, and he meet three women. First one is brunette holding gun. He say, 'Why are you holding gun?' and she say, 'Because if you try rape me, I shoot!' So soldier shrug and go over to redhead girl, who was holding club. 'Why are you holding club?' 'Because if you try rape me, I hit!' Soldier nod, and then turn to blonde, who was carrying around windowframe. 'Why are you carrying around windowframe?' 'Because if you try rape me, I jump out!'"
The crowd was silent still.
"Feminism." finished Bovski proudly, illiciting a few uncomfortable squirms throughout the audience.
Bovski was silent too, for a second. He had to make them laugh somehow, a few of them were already leaving... So he skipped to his best joke, the one he was saving for the end...
"So man walk into bar and meet his friend. Friend say, 'I'll give daughter for bottle of vodka.' Man say 'okay.' and so he pay his week earnings and give friend bottle of vodka. Friend thank him and say he will send daughter tomorrow. Man is very excited from hearing that friends daughter is the most beautiful woman in all of Klovska. Next morning, he find daughter at his doorstep, he is surprised because she is severely deform from malnourish."
Bovski realized that his audience was primarily American, and so they wouldn't quite pick up on this spot of comedic brilliance, so he explained, "Because everyone in Klovska very ugly, you see."
The club was empty. Bovski was deeply offended by this. And as if this wasn't enough to top it off, he went into his dressing room, only to find it cleared out for that smarmy club singer who always wore an ascot and leather jacket... There was a pink slip for him scotch-taped to the door, on the back was written, (In that smarmy bastard's handwriting, no less!) "Look, you've been at this for years. Nobody's laughed, not a single goddamn person. Don't quit your dayjob at the chem plant."
Bovski growled at this as he crumpled the paper and left the club, beginning the long trek to his apartment building. It was raining profusely. As Bovski was walking, he thought to himself. He knew for a fact that he was a genius. A master of comedy! These Americans had no taste whatsoever. He would hit it big soon. He'd show them! He'd make them laugh, he'd make them ALL laugh!
He had barely passed the chemical plant's entrance walkway when he stopped dead in his tracks... He would start by making that asshole club singer laugh until his sides burst. Until they burst wide open and his smarmy, subhuman bowels started pouring out of them. Wouldn't that be hilarious? He considered this as he unlocked the door to the chemical plant and walked inside. He began mixing up some special, combustible laughing gas at his desk...
In fact, why not go a step further, why not become the least funny thing imaginable? Because completely unfunny things seem to be the only thing that these mongrels ever laugh at! Indeed, he would become a clown, the least funny creature known to man. In fact, he would become a murderous clown, with his own criminal organisation. All it took was one street gang, and some expert strategizing, and he'd be able to take over one of the bigger crime rings and basically own a portion of Goetiam... His days as a general in Kizkallia had prepared him to pursue his dreams after all...
Sophia was born a daughter of a well to-do aristocrat, and lived nicely alongside nobles and middle-class men and women until she was 8. Even predating the civil strife, Sophia's town had lived separated from most of the world by it being on the southern, coastal side of a mountain. The mountain itself provided plenty of food, with the only natural predators being humans.
It was no surprise bandits would settle down here. At first, they presented themselves as gypsies, and even to this day, they treat the wildlife responsibly, since they were lead by a rather intelligent Dona of a rather imposing crime family.
Anyhow, this Dona decided to move into the town around the time Sophia was 8. They didn't mean harm at all, but given their reputation, it was probable that a group of young men, mostly consisting of a rag-tag team of young lords leading young subjects, would initiate a fight on of the family's associates. They broke both his legs. The Dona was not pleased with that.
Within the hour of receiving the news, every major household was held hostage and had to pay about half of their life savings to him. Sophia's household, however, was a legislative one; they didn't have a family craft to rely upon, and so Sophia's father's income was much, much lower than the others'.
Consequently, Sophia was dragged out the door, but not before cutting off her own arm (she was being dragged away by the Dona's armored guards, so she did what she had to : a reckless judgment). The sacrifice was meaningless as she was still captured, and within the day, had her nub of an arm fully treated.
While she was recovering in a sort of half-coma, the bandits cleared out of the town, with their cover lifted, and off into the mountains they went.
She would never return to the town. Until she was 13, she was used as a sort of sick concept of a child-dancer, and then until 16 years of age, as a cat burglar, and then until 18, a part of the bandito guard.
From 18 onwards, she had changed from "Little Lass" to "Little Sister" to "Sister", promotions in rank for her service in the family. It was when she was turning 19, another Commission meeting, did she flip the power table. You see, the initial Dona had grown old, and he was planning an heir. She knew that among her peers, there were more than a few eager to just shoot him and take the title for themselves.
In fact, she was planning to do that at first, but seeing the competition, she decided to pull off a trick a month past her birthday.
They had settled, after traveling a circuit course across many other cities, back at her city, and she decided to hold a feast there. All of the Commission went, and it was on that day did she show off her new arm; she had spent most of her money making it, though she picked up most of the metal herself. With a group of amazing blacksmiths (that knew of her identity), she had it built within that month.
And so, she put it to use. No one had brought their weapons with them, but that metal arm was all she needed. In fact, she had grown this ability in secret, resetting watches and disrupting clockworks with just a touch. Without even lifting a finger on that arm, she crushed her competition's lives as though they were statues against a hammer.
She had also tipped off the guard of the crime group's presence, so she'd have an alibi as to why the Commission had all been killed so. Using this, she eliminated the more ambitious, more obviously threatening of her family.
With her at the tip of the spear, she remained there, and for the rest of that year, killed every young lord that had caused her trouble in the first place, capping it off with the head of the guard.
And that was the first town she actually conquered. Seven years go by, and now, as the Donna of the family and as a pseudo-noble, she prowls her town with pride. That was, until the King died.
An uprising chased her and six "family" members up into the mountain again; everyone else was killed by none other than Wenceslas, at the age of 9.
She aims to try and halt the misguided young boy, as well as the others. Even without the main base, the other branches obey her without fail. The only reason she even bothers with him is the fact that most of her family reside in high-ranking positions, positions of interest for a bloodthirsty kid to target for information and revenge. She also aims to kill the runaway Queen to tend the "terrible" bloodline.
Combat-wise, she also has a damnably annoying ability to work machinery with just a touch of the nub of her arm. She can send even primitive tractors haywire without so much as an animal to drive them, and it doesn't change the fact she can send it barreling into the nearest powder storage for a bright boom.
Check the Apocalypse Plant to confirm my identity matches with swiftstryker's.
Annathia Rolannadra is a very... persuasive person to say the least. She is a very beautiful young gal of about fifteen; slim, medium sized rounded breasts, a nice small but plump behind, shimmering white hair that falls to her waist, the pink irises and white skin of an albino, delicate looking limbs, a very open and innocent looking face - put some wings on her and she could easily have passed for an angel - ... at least, it is until she gets hungry. One of her favorite white lacy dress that ends just above the knees and has sleeves that go just passed the elbow often adorns her skin - and is often stained just a little bit red in splatters. The stains have begun to come less frequently now though.
She was the result of both a vampire and a werewolf bite at the same time, before the two started tearing at each other instead of into her. Having angered the werewolf, she started running - right beneath a tree that she always passed at around that time of day. A vampire was hiding in there, waiting for her since she was usually alone when walking and was quite the rare specimen being an albino and all, and so he jumped down and tackled her the same time the werewolf caught up to her. She had always had such bad luck, and she blamed it on the albinism.
Now, usually if you were already a vampire and you were bit by a werewolf, then it wouldn't be able to take hold because the vampire part had already taken command, and vice versa.
On the next full moon though, she 'died' - and transformed into a massive pure black wolf with her irises slightly deepened from their pink to a red despite there being no heartbeat and her human form being quite white. There is always that wolf and vampire side warring with each other; the supernatural healing of a werewolf starting her heart again every once and a while before the vampire side stills it, the werewolf side that says 'don't harm your pack' versus the vampire side that says 'food' when she's with her family, the need for solid meat instead of just blood - and then throwing it up again because the vampire side couldn't handle anything solid, etc. She also needed quite a bit more sustenance then any other werewolf or vampire due to the massive amounts of energy being exerted by either side to dominate her mind and body. Also, since her body no longer changed as years went by, her transformations weren't limited to twelve times a year when the moon invoked a change; they could end up happening anytime her body chemistry changed, such as mood swings, anger, embarrassment, deep sadness, etc. Daylight did nothing to her either, well, nothing besides a bit of an itch.
It drove her quite insane, as you could imagine. She held out against the insanity as long as possible, but it just became too much after her tenth or eleventh feeding and being helpless to do anything against it. It was like having something take over her body and leaving her sitting in her mind, watching as whatever possessed her killed and devoured an innocent person who probably had lives, families, jobs, people that would be ruined by this persons death, and loved ones the innocent could never see again.
People feared her, and people are easily controlled by fear. She did manage to not kill a few people who soon became her 'team' of sorts; they'd do some research for her and find the easiest targets, and she let them live and perhaps did them a favor or two if it wasn't too much trouble. Muttering to herself quite a bit, though nothing intelligible, she usually never spoke to other people but instead growled when she was displeased or upset, howling when she was grieving, tilting her head when confused or contemplating something, or gave the puppy dog eyes when she wanted something. If necessary, she would speak, but it come out thick and halting as though she had to remember how to, and she would often space out when others were talking, but somehow also has retained her logical mind if a bit twisted, and knows how to twist the fear of her into obedience.
No one wanted to mess with her though, and there have been wild stories about a demon wolf who would come and kill you if you went out at night, which wasn't all that far off given her appearance and what she was.
To her, power meant more food, more food meant less of that red hot pang of hunger that almost always gnawed at her, threatening to tear her from the inside out. So, she never tried to hide her insanity, or anything else that would make people fear her. Several different groups of people have tried to take her out, but each one of them only seemed to be a wrinkled husk on the floor after a visit with her.
Feeling quite sick, she stumbled outside and to the car in the driveway. She had forgotten to go to the butchers and ask for a large chuck of fresh raw meat, although the meat itself would go to someone else a bit drained. It was always bad when this happened, as it had nine times before. Fumbling with the keys in the dark, she was aware of red-hot pang growing ever stronger. Finally she managed to get them out and unlock the door, sat in the drivers seat, and started the car. Closing her eyes and leaning back, she bit the inside of her bottom lip to try and distract her from the gnawing hunger clawing at her.
All that did was to have her incisors start lengthening, growing sharper, and start digging into her own flesh while doing nothing to quite the beast. Sighing, she sits up, and turns the key to reverse, and backs out of the driveway - and a loud thump jolted her to a stop. Debating whether or not to go out and see what - or who - it was, because surely if it was a who, she would have to endure just watching as her own fangs slid into the persons neck, or her own canine teeth tearing into flesh of an innocent to that nice juicy meat beneath....She stopped that thought, took a deep breath, and continued in reverse, wincing at the second bump as the front tires went over whatever it was.
Releasing the deep breath in a sigh of relief, she saw that what she had run over was just a garbage bag with trash in it, not a person. Putting the car into drive, she headed in the direction that was the fastest way out of town and away from other people.
Well, of course on that night of all nights there was a couple of kids playing in the park that separated her from the edge of town. Swallowing, she allowed her incisors to bite deeply into her bottom lip and refused to look that way...but her eyes kept drifting back, and her mind idly thinking about how much sweeter the blood of a child would be than that of an old animal before she forbade the thought. Her hands turned the steering wheel slightly, veering towards the kids before she jerked them back.
As she neared, her hunger spiked sharply, and before she knew what was happening, the car was in the lawn and stopped only a few meters from the kids, and they were shrieking and running away - except for one who stood like a deer in the headlights. Her werewolf senses picked up on the scent of the kid, and it was like the first time all over again, except this time it wasn't a decrepit, shady looking old man, it was a child vibrant with life and filled with pure innocence.
She fought back, screaming at herself silently to stop, but she was already moving. Hunched over, her chest was expanding, nails thickening and lengthening into claws, white skin spouting black fur, white hair receding, ears growing pointer and moving upwards, face and limbs crackling as bones rearranged themselves, clothes tearing, canine teeth fighting with vampire incisors for space in her mouth, the vampire part twisting the werewolf into a demon. All the while, she did not break stride but instead grew faster and the small boy of no more than nine finally turned around and started to run after his friends, though it was obvious that he wouldn't outrun her. A little girl about his age turned back and threw a rock, probably hoping to distract her, but it did nothing.
At the end of that night, there were two child carcasses completely drained of blood - a boy and a girl - with a couple of bites taken out of the limbs, and Annathia Rolannadra broken and insane.
(continuation to my post about Aaron)
However, Aaron was not the only who had found the power turn back time. There was another man just like him. Justin Shrike was his name. He could do everything Aaron could do, to turn back time and to alter the past, to change some wrongs that had been committed. However, Justin had set his mind on a darker goal; yes, he was going to change some wrongs that had been committed, but not by him. Instead, he will return in the past to change the wrongs that others had made . . . to him.
As a young orphan boy, Justin had always been smarter than the other boys and girls of his age. However, he had been smaller and weaker than the others and so he was often picked on. Some bigger boys teased him and bullied him, making fun of the large and ugly birthmark on his face. He would always plan on how he would get back at them everyday, making sure that his pain and suffering would not unavenged.
Justin was an introverted young person who always found it hard to make friends with other people. He felt the loneliness in him eating away inside him. During his teenage years, he had but a single friend. Dennis was his name, and Justin would consider him always as his faithful best friend and loyal ally. They promised each other that they would always stand at each other's side, that they would stand together til the end. However, it never happened like this.
At the age of 21, Dennis died after being mugged late one night. The thugs stabbed his chest and slit his throat, instantly taking his life. His death tore Justin's world apart. He meant everything to Justin and now he was gone. Everything Justin and Dennis had planned and dreamt to do together became nothing but broken dreams.
After Dennis' death, Justin studied and worked day and night, planning to accomplish everything they both dreamt of. After fifteen years, Justin's hard work paid off and he graduated from college with several degrees. This consisted of a master's degree in law, another master's degree in psychology, and a doctorate degree in philosophy.
At the age of 37, Justin's mind was already filled with so much intelligence. With the power of his brilliant mind, Justin decided to use and manipulate the people around him to doing everything he wants. He used those who trusted him and thought they were his friends to gain and extort wealth and power.
Soon, with all his illegal doings, he was pulled into the criminal underworld and got involved with a powerful mafia. He used these powerful and dangerous men for his own gains and in turn, he helped them in every way he can by funding and creating fool-proof grand-theft plans for them.
However, one day, after a successful grand heist, the mafia hideout was busted by the police and its leaders were thrown to prison. Everything from the plan blueprints to the hidden loot was confiscated and destroyed. The leaders were interrogated and some of them gave up some names. One of those names was Justin Shrike.
He was pulled down by the mafia and thrown into prison along with them. He was also given a sentence of 37 years to rot in that god-forsaken prison.
Days, weeks, months, and years passed. Justin spent his years inside his cell, thinking, studying and planning.
It was past midnight and the dimly lit streets of Detroit were almost empty. That is, except for one drunk man, who had been strolling down the sidewalks speaking to himself for the whole past hour. He wore a black and white suit and tie, and he looked completely devastated and worn down.
The man is Justin Shrike, he had just returned from the funeral of Dennis, his best friend. In fact, His only friend.
Dennis and Justin had known each other ever since junior high. He remembered that moment, Justin did, when Dennis approached his table at the far corner of the cafeteria that day. He was the only kid who had been kind and brave enough to talk to Justin, who was always too introverted to make friends with others. Ever since that day, they became loyal friends to each other. A friend to one another, that each completely trusted with all his secrets and dreams.
Justin finished the beer in his hands and threw the bottle at the pavement, breaking the glass into a thousand shards. Inside, he felt just like that beer bottle, broken and destroyed. He had just lost the only person he had ever cared for. Death had just taken his only friend and his world had just been torn apart.
Justin looked up into the clear full moon as tears filled with anger and pain slid down his cheeks. He began to speak in his raspy, broken voice, "Why? If there is a god up there? Why? Why did you take him? Why him? Why not me?"
The broken man looked down at the pavement, trying to prevent himself from collapsing. He was very dizzy from his drinking. It was only his first time to drink nine bottles of beer.
Justin unclasped the watch in his wrist and stared down at it with sadness and longing. It had been Dennis' most prized possession. He had inherited it from his beloved father and he had promised himself that he would to never lose it. Well, now he had. He had gone and left leaving his father's watch behind.
"Why? Dennis! If you can hear me. . . please hear me. . . i promise you that we will meet again and when we do. . . i will give you back your father's watch. . . I promise you this!" Justin said, shouting the words to the skies and praying that wherever Dennis was, he had heard all those words.
At that moment, Justin made a vow. A promise to himself and to Dennis that one day he would see his friend again and they would be together. They would stand together and they would be reunited to each other. Justin would find a way to make this happen, no matter what it takes, no matter what he has to do.
And, many, many years later he would find a way to do just that.
The death of his family in the Rebellion of the Ageless Sands catalyzed a teenage Ben into a vengeful state. He seized control of the surviving rebels to capture Tomanka uncontested. He often laughs maniacally and talks to himself, driven insane by the lack of immediate revenge. But Ben didn't know who to blame, didn't know who to kill. So, he decided to kill everything in his path, regardless of the consequences. He destroyed the Keep, after learning the connection of the Order and the Battle of the Ageless Sands. He now has the names of the survivors, and- he believes- his family's killers.
Tuesday! This week is "character roles and relationships," part two, day two!
Today, your challenge is to create The Dragon. (Trope here: ?Link ) This is the villain's second-in-command and is the evil equivalent of the Lancer. He (or she) behaves a lot like the Lancer in that their traits are frequently a contrast to the villain. However, there is one fairly consistent strange difference:
Due to the nature of the Lancer, as the hero's rival and opposite, he is the most likely character to abandon the group during the journey. As a result of this behavior, he's often the least reliable or even trust-worthy member, but he always comes back in the end because, deep down, he cares about his group.
The Dragon, however, tends to be the villain's most loyal companion, and fiercely so. He's often the most honorable among the entire band ... and that's precisely why, after years of serving a villain, this character is the most likely of the group to doubt himself and turn good near the very end. This may be prompted by the hero's group earning his respect, showing him mercy, revealing something horrible about the villain that even he cannot excuse ... or, quite possibly, the villain betraying him in an attempt to cut some losses / sacrifice him for the greater good. Over all, this guy can be proof that "Even Evil Has Standards."
On the other hand, perhaps his motives for betrayal aren't a change of heart. His loyalty may have been an act. He might've wanted the villain's power all along, or perhaps he's a secret assassin, waiting to get revenge through a much less noble route than a hero.
Who is your dragon? What are their strengths and weaknesses? How does your Dragon relate to your villain? What's their relationship like? Do they have a lot in common or are they very different? What is the dragon's motive for following them, where does their devotion and loyalty come from? Is their loyalty sincere and how deep does it run?
Bonus: Show us the scene where your dragon first decided to follow the villain.
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Matthias Teach, the only exception to Sophia's bloody path to power, remains as one of the few surviving members of the central Clemente mafia. A man of dubious age and even more dubious wisdom, Matthias utilizes subtle suggestions and a certain suavity that grants him invulnerability on any battlefield, be it diplomatic immunity, a buildup of sabotages, or an unsuspecting attire. Indeed, even if he only is just human, without special powers other than his own damnable knack of surviving, his achievements, if ever listed, can terrify and threaten the most dangerous of his peers and cohorts. It just goes to show that regardless of one's own power, there will always be someone greater, even if it's just cooking, setting up a tent, charming your best friends...everything.
Matthias stays by Sophia's side as a sort of mentor to her efforts, though by now she might catch up to him in terms of the strength of her connections. It's no wonder that she rose to her current position thanks to his intervention in her progress of responsibility, first becoming something more of a slave girl to an actual participating member of the Committee. In any other circumstances, she falls short of a literal arm and a hotter temper. He's shown her just that when she attempted to kill him out of her paranoia; she subsequently fell in love with him the night after his room was found in a mess with the stench of sweat heavy in the air, as well as more than a few conspicuous articles of clothing lying around.
Sophia herself wonders why he hadn't killed her off yet, considering her relative strength to his, and how supposedly different they are in terms of methodology.
What she does know is that he would do everything in her name, good and bad. Despite his wisdom, he's only as effective as her own temperament and rationality are.
Teeth followed the group ahead, crawling on his belly. His master took it upon himself to slaughter his friends. Or, enemies. His plan was great, though there was one problem. The giant dragon following them. Luckily, Teeth was a ChangeWing and could switch colors and shapes in a instant.
Teeth transformed into a tree, waving slightly to give off the look and feel of an actual tree. He felt nervous, as this was his first day. But soon, it would be his last.
He felt his throat. His venom and tail were cleverly tucked away. His venom pipe in his esophagus was priceless. Given the chance, Teeth would demolish the small humans. But that venom was his only defense.
He thought about his sad, horrible life before he met the infamous Thomas Albany.
*"Ma!" He screamed, falling into the volcano. He saw his brother, Knyfe, standing at the edge. He smirked and left Teeth falling into the lava.
When he fell, he felt something break inside of him. He sizzled and burned in the magma, and was reborn as Teeth, the tiny dragonet only a few years old. Teeth felt strange in his new body, his CHANGEWING body. He felt.....uncomfortable.
But only a few years later, he had enough. His heart shattered and he ran away, back to the volcano in which he had died the first time. He saw a human, laughing as he crushed flowers and small animals underfoot. Teeth knew this was going to be wonderful, and he sought revenge.*
*sorry, i couldn't redo the italics.
Dennis had always been like a brother to Justin. They had always been there for each other ever since that day in Junior High when he kindly approached Justin and befriended him, who sat alone at a table at the cafeteria. Justin had always been too introverted; he always kept to himself and because of this he was often targeted by the bullies.
When Dennis entered his life, all of this ended. He became the protecting older brother that Justin never had and truly needed. Dennis knew that Justin was a special kid; he knew that he wasn't like other people. He had something that few others had, extraordinary intelligence and a tendency to plant hatred in his heart. Dennis knew all of this and so he stayed by Justin's side. He protected Justin against everyone; he defended him against the jealous and judging world.
However, one event shook both their worlds, Dennis was mugged one late night and killed by some thieving thugs. They slit his throat and stabbed his chest multiple times. At the tender young age of 21 his life was taken from him and Justin was left alone to fend for himself, losing the only brother he ever had.
Justin lived alone by himself for many years, living in the shadows and using the sad memories of Dennis in his heart and mind to push him beyond his limits and to break the boundaries of the human achievements.
After about two decades, he finally found the answer or in better words the answer finally came to him. He woke up one day with a gift from the heavens, a gift sent by father time. He was granted the power to return to the past and to alter time. Wasting no time at all, Justin instantly returned in the past to save Dennis and he. . . he was more than successful.
He was able to save Dennis' life from the thugs. And then after saving and explaining the gift he had been given to Dennis, together they wrought vengeance upon the thugs, arming themselves and massacring the gang of thieves.
After this, Justin used his crooked and yet brilliant mind to cook up plan to cast vengeance upon all those who had wronged him, including those bullies in the past, the mafia, and those thrown him in prison, the police. Dennis, as any loyal and faithful friend, willingly followed him and aided him in all his plans.
Together, the two weaved through the depths of time, unraveling and altering the past in every wicked way they could. However, Dennis unlike Justin had a heart; he was capable of mercy and compassion. One day, he met another man named Aaron, who like Justin had been given the power to turn back time. Aaron tol him about how he and a few others had set upon a mission to save the lives of the victims of death, using his power to help others and to do good.
Slowly, as he and Justin worked through their plans of revenge and extortion and Aaron and his friends tried to prevent their crooked plans from working out, Dennis began to realize all the wrongs that he had committed with Justin. He began to feel remorse and regret for all the lives they have taken, and for everything they had stolen. He began to feel regret for having even joined Justin down his wicked path.
They were all whispering, they were all talking about him behind his back. Justin Shrike, yes that was his name. He was the new small weird kid who always sat alone at the table at the far corner of the cafeteria; the table beneath the shadows. It had become his table; no one else approached and even tried to befriend him, afraid what their friends might think of them. He was lonely, it was obvious. He always sat there at lunchtime eating in grave silence, as if he was afraid to be noticed by everyone else.
But they did. They talked about him behind his back exactly because he did all these strange things. And there was also the fact that he was too smart for his age. All of the kids talked about him exactly because of this.
It was one such lunchtime.
All Dennis' friends around him had been talking for the past half hour about the weird kid eating alone at his table. They all criticized the way he ate, the way he was too shy to make friends, and even the fact that he was too smart for his age. They all talked about the bad things they knew about Justin Shrike. Yes, only the bad things because they didn't know the good things about him.
"Did you hear about Jason? I heard he'd been bullying that poor kid." Sophia said.
"He deserved it. He was way too weird and shy. He's too different from the rest of us. I mean why can't he just act like the rest of us, making friends and talking and chatting with them. What's wrong with him?" Frank answered back.
Dennis sat in silence between them listening to their conversation.
"Maybe he can't speak. Or maybe he's deaf and mute." Greg spoke up.
"No, i have better idea about what's wrong with him. Maybe, there is something wrong with his head. Maybe he's crazy and he doesn't know how to act like a normal kid. I'll bet you that's the reason. He's wrong in the head." Frank offered with a naughty smile.
Dennis finally stood uo. He'd had enough. They've gone too far this time.
He stood up from his seat, raising his tray from the table and beggining to walk away. As his friends tried to call him back he headed towards the table at the far corner of the cafeteria, the one where Justin sat. Dennis' heart raced.
Almost every single kid watched Dennis as took one giant leap of kindness, and he approached the table. When he'd arrived, he simply placed his tray at the table and sat down, resuming his meal. Dennis acted as if it was the most natural thing to do, coolly eating his sandwich as Justin stared at him with a confused look.
"Hi, i'm Dennis." He said to Justin, holding out his hand to Justin. The other boy, even though still surprised, took his hand and shook it firmly.
"I'm Justin." He said, and that was the beggining of their friendship.
A regal woman with a fierce devotion to Ben for saving her life from the Order's executioner. Facing a death sentence for supreme treason, she had killed a lord and raised and army of the dead to march on his lands. Near the time she was about to meet her maker, Ben's army arrived in the town and killed the Valkyrie who was to kill her. Offering her a place by his side, she gladly accepted and put her depravity to work for him, traveling with his army and raising the dead of the battle to serve them.
Holston Bo was by all accounts a strange-looking man. His skin was quite pale, and his head was a wild, gnalred mass of hair that extended down past his shoulderblades, he had rugged mutton chops with a thickness and intensity that would make Van Helsing weep with jealousy. He also wore eyeliner, so you could tell where his eyelids ended and his pupil-less pools of otherworldly oils began. He was dressed in a red and black leather jacket, and always carried two katanas with him, and he was always hiding an AR-15 somewhere on his person, in ways physics has yet to wholly discern.
Now, these weren't your average shitty run-of-the mill katanas that you could break the blade on just by swinging with a stiff wrist. No, these were nigh-indestructible, Hollywood-grade katanas that you could parry with all day without ruining the blade. With these things, you could delfect bullets, and/or cut them in half. You could wield them with one hand without the goddamn blade falling out.
Although Holston was suffering from a bout of amnesia that he incurred when getting his skeleton replaced entirely by Indestructium and didn't know this quite yet, he was an alien, and he murdered his entire home planet because they cancelled his homeworld's equivalent of Firefly. He also had a space motorcycle that he left in a car rental lot somewhere in Alabama. Several rednecks going for a joyride probably suffocated or froze to death in the stratosphere by now.
But, aside from his expensive weaponry, Holston looked completely homeless, so it was no surprise to anyone when a certain bald man in clown makeup wearing flambouyant purple formalwear, with an accent that took a drunken tour all over far Eastern Europe walked into the food court he snuck into with two bums saying "Hey, you, Hobo!"
Now, as you can imagine, Holston was marginally offended, but he was never one to outright attack such colorful characters , so he shrugged off the presence the Polrussoslovaustrikranian clown without question. The other two didn't. In fact, they were quite alarmed to see such a sharp dressed, creepy-ass clown walking in on their stolen dinner in the middle of the night, so one pulled out his spikey bat, and the other one broke a beer bottle and aimed the pointy end at the clown.
"No, no, no," said the clown, raising his hands up passively, "You misunderstand. I am good happy clown, not dangerous evil clown. Look, I do magic trick and tell joke!"
The bums were quite lacking in their entertainment budgets, so they couldn't possibly have turned down a magic trick. Cautiously, they let the clown approach the table.
"Now, you two look at me carefully. I am about to disappear." said the clown, reaching into his suit. He pulled out a ball-peen hammer, painted in comical red and yellow like a test-your-strength mallet at a carnival, and buried it in the brain of the homeless man on his right.
"What the fuck!?" cried the one that was still living, "That's not a magic trick at all!"
"I know. That was the joke."
The man with the bottle attempted to stab the clown, but he grabbed the man's arm and broke it, then turned and threw him to the ground, causing him to hit his head on the leg of the table and lose consciousness. The clown proceeded to ball-peen him to death as well.
"Who the fuck're you?" asked Holston, raising one eyebrow.
"I am Murderclown, and I need your help, Hobo."
"Whaddya want?" said Hobo, lighting a cigar.
"You kill people for hire, yes?" said Murderclown, smiling wide.
This was true, in fact, Holston had done this for several decades in space, but he was just doing simple earth contracts currently. For all he knew about himself, he was currently a traveling lumberjack who killed on occasion.
"Yeah, The Holston runs 'n' guns," drawled 'the' Holston, "Whatsit to ya, Bozo?"
"I have very important job for you. I will pay many dollars."
"What is it?"
"The job is simple," Said Murderclown, "We kill the Blackman."
"Whah... Sorry, I don' do jobs fer fraggin' racists."
"What? I am not racist!"
"Look at you, yer bald, yer skin's pain'ned white, ya just ball-peened two black guys in the head just now."
"Oh, you also misunderstand. I am not racist, and those are brown men. No such thing as black men, unless they are the man in black."
"What man in black?"
"Rich guy in costume who always foils criminals. I don't like him, you don't like him, we all-"
"Speak fer yerself, he ain't never given me trouble. I have a much bigger problem with than asshole who wears yakskin shorts. He's been stopping me ever since I first tried to kill the mayor of Megalopolis."
"Well, then I'll add him as target too. He is putting group together to land us all in jail for long time. But I have big plan."
"I pay you and bunch of other super-criminals to get together, and we kill these band of idiot and go back to living as it should be. No string attached."
"I like that idea, Bozo. When do we get started?"
"Tonight. I know the right people."
Vakini (va-kee-nee) Alcran was the man who first found Annathia. With short black hair, and pale skin that was not quite as white as Annathia's, he basically looked like the generic vampire, except for bright ice blue eyes. Well, that was where the resemblance to the generic vampire ended. He was not self confident, nor particularly strong or fast. Never enjoyed killing, though never going out of his way to avoid killing a person instead of an animal. Weren't humans technically animals as well? Curiosity is what drew him to Annathia, and pity is what bound him to her. It should have been impossible for such a combination, but she never told him how it happened, but instead snarled or growled at him when he got too close, probably forgetting about their first meeting. He saw her as a very... difficult child; never admitting to needing help, but desperately needing it enough for it to show. So he was there to provide it until his curiosity was satisfied and his pity wore out, if everything went as planned. He'd stick to her like super glue until then.
The night was peaceful, the moon a crescent hanging in the sky with distant stars decorating the heavens. Trees swayed gently in the slight breeze. Leaves and twigs crunched and snapped under foot, adding to the various sounds of nocturnal creatures. An odd sound came to him; a whimpering, then a scuttle, snarling, and then girlish crying before starting again. Curious, he followed the sound cautiously. Peering through the trees, he saw a girl of no more than sixteen with white hair and a distinct lack of clothes on, though it appeared to be nearby rather ripped. It looked like some exciting activities went on that night with her and a boy most likely. She was sitting by two drained child corpses, and he smiled, incisors sliding out, assuming another vampire had gotten to the children and she had come back to find them dead after her little enjoyment, didn't even think of the possibility that this was because of her. She seemed too heart-broken over it; vampires didn't get heart-broken over chosen prey.
It came as quite the surprise when she suddenly stopped crying, and sniffed the air, turning towards him. Only werewolves had that kind of sense of smell and took human form. Turning to flee, he caught sight of her incisors sliding out as well, and then the pink irises of an albino, and promptly stopped in shock.
She came at him with fury raging in her eyes, hands out like claws, and she seemed to be growing and becoming deformed, quite similar to a werewolf when transforming. But the incisors puzzled him greatly. If she was a werewolf, then why was her incisors coming out like a vampire? Well, in that moment of hesitation, the girl got close enough to leap at him and was currently sailing through the air, half transformed and looking very much like what one would imagine a demon would.
He had time to bring his arms up to cover his face, but nothing else. In moments, he was knocked to the ground with the strange werewolf girl pressing heavily on his chest, still finishing up the final stages of transformation. He could hear the crackling as her bones rearranged themselves, and it sent a tremble through his body as he realized that his curiosity would probably cost him his life. Or an end of his post-death expiriance, as some people preferred to call it.
Tearing at the limbs pinning him to the ground, he tried to get the thing off of him. All that did was have it shift it's stance to pin his arms and legs to the ground. She opened her jaws, her teeth still growing a little and muzzle just finishing up with lengthening, and plunged her head down while turning it so her jaws would snap close over his neck. He snapped his eyes shut and waited for that painful moment when he would die...but it didn't come. He could feel her hot sticky breath on his neck, and her teeth lightly touching his skin on either side of his neck. Like a cat playing with a mouse. Of course. This was going to be much worse than he imagined.
Pulling back, she twitched a few times, looking like she really wanted to kill him, and looked him in the eye. It was quite unnerving, having these ruby red eyes glittering in the darkness, staring at him. A growl started, but it was cut off abruptly. Many, many emotions flickered behind those insane eyes. The weight on him shifted, and the crackling resumed, but this time her muzzle receding with the fur, and white hair growing back as her limbs snapped into a human form. As her paws turned to hands, she gripped him painfully tight. Her eyes were the last to change back to the albino pink, and it was a bit awkward for him to have a naked girl pinning him to the ground - a werewolf girl with vampire incisors and albino attributes at that - , though she did not seem to be affected in the least by this.
Finally, she collapsed on him and started crying, muttering 'No no no no no no no no no' to herself, and then growling. Well, that was quite the sudden change of attitude. First trying to kill him, now lying naked on him. He just lay as still as possible, hoping not to invoke the demon werewolf side again. He pitied her, despite what had happened only moments ago.
She rolled off and curled into a ball, and wept. Sitting up, he watched and waited, unable to abandon such a mystery.
Wednesday! This week is "character roles and relationships," part three!
I'm sure you could see this coming, but today's teammate is "The Evil Genius." In contrast to 'The Smart Guy,' this is the character that normal, moral folks would say takes the line between genius and insanity and tramples over it like a stampeding herd of overweight rhinos. They might be crazy, and they often go crazy, but he/she is always unquestionably brilliant.
When he's a scientist, he insists that science benefits most by being released from the flimsy shackles of morality. When they're a weapons' specialist, they revel in the idea of bigger and better, no matter how many innocent civilizations get blown to pieces in the process--or even because of them. When he's a hacker, his skills are used to take down cyber cities with a few key-strokes, ruining reputations, lives, and draining billions from accounts all over the world. If he's a strategist, his one focus is winning, no matter how much blood needs to be spilled for the cause.
He doesn't have the charismatic pull of the dragon or the villain. He doesn't have the dragon's nobler nature, either, but he's often close to the top because his mind is so valuable to the plot. However, because so much rides on his mind, if he screws up, the villain is likely to off him then and there for proving he's 'outlived his usefulness.'
So, who is your evil genius? What do they specialize in and why? How do they connect to the Dragon and The Villain? Are they envious of the fact that the villain has the leading role, even though they presumably aren't as smart? Are they jealous of the dragon's charisma or position as second-in-command? Or are they just happy to be part of the cause and the chaos? On the other hand, are they more recluse, caring only for the cause, or even less, simply for the fun of their work?
Bonus: Show the Evil Genius, totally wrapped up in his or her work, deep in the thoughts of their ambitions / wishes, and then have them contemplate their teammates.
An Osias- a species capable of mind control- she was to be killed as is the custom. She was the second female child, and according to Osian culture, second females are to be killed. Ben was traveling to the Keep when he found her. She was discovered to be an avid weapons expert, making new bows and staves with wicked precision.
For most Big Bad groups, having three storng minds would be overkill.
Unless you planned to overthrow the current royalty and end the kingdom as the world knew it; then you'd feel a little under prepared.
Nicholas, an aging, decrepit brain on a pair of wheels, is the man behind Sophia's arm, as well as the construction of every siege engine, every weapon, every new development the Kingdom had seen in the last 50 years. While his ideas were all novel, most of them were trashed or unused to prevent the labor force from collapsing.
The labor force in question consisted of an entire social class held hostage. Just about every noble was immunized against what would be the Plague's moldy equivalent, and under the threat of losing every working man, woman, and child within their expanses, the nobles had to fund his conquest to create more "novelties". With all the resources he wanted, Nicholas had the time and money to explore every branch of science he so desired, all the way until he met Sophia.
Despite his threats, all of his limbs were soundly broken, hence his crippled condition. Seeing how his life was truly in danger, he bargained to build her arm in exchange for protection and his life.
He provided for her merry band of bandits an assortment of makeshift weapons, including barrels of explosives, rapid-fire ballistae, intricate traps to drop people by the dozens, etc.
As of now though, he survives only as the herbalist of the group. By remembering practical usages for just about every plan, the group could survive on his knowledge.
Sophia just had to torture him to keep him from poisoning everybody.
The fact that the once-heroic doctor had actually been a real, caring person was odd enough. Seemingly strange, this unique doctor had a dark past that he never wished to share. His black eyes were filled with envy and insanity, and you can tell from the deep, permanent scowl he wore that he did not care that millions were dead and were being killed because of him. He was so wrapped up and stuck in his own head that he could barely appeal to his own ideas. He tinkered with his copper plaything. He felt a soft voice in his head encourage him to keep working.
The Doctor was once a Nobel Prize chemist a few years ago for curing cancer, but his achievement resorted to a dark and horrible path. Many "cured" patients died shortly after their bodies were removed of the parasites that had consumed every moment of their waiting lives. Families were devastated to see their loved ones disappear from their loving arms and turned on him. He tried to fight the diseases, but they were too aggressive and got past his delicate hands. One by one, they spread, killing off three quarters of his state. The emperor had turned to the quarantine experts to fence off the area. The Doctor was the only one that survived the massacre, and of course, the experience and pain twisted his heart and broke it like a glass toy that had slipped out of a child's grasp.
Soon, he was filled with grief of the ones he had lost. He was the hero that succumbed to be a villain. He hated himself and the world for making his life harder than the rest. Yes, the disease was spreading, but he had no time to think about that. Darkness poured from unknown regions within himself and filled the empty pit that was his heart. The goo was his own remorse, and he could not forgive himself. He cried out to the heavens as he was overtaken with his own creation, the same disease that had turned on him years ago. But now, the darkness is still in control, and the poor man is forced to obey.
The doctor pondered about his boss. He hated being given the role of the brains, even though they were the most important thing behind the operation. His boss got so much attention, and yet the only thing he got was insults. His boss would yammer on and on about himself and sure enough, his henchman was licking his toes like a dog. He grumbled and dropped his metal toys. Soon, he convinced himself, Albany will beg for my help, and I will crush him underfoot like an ant. But before his devious plan would unfold, it would require patience and concentration to win his master's trust. But until then, the Doctor would be planning his revenge.
An Italian middle-aged genius of a man, Zechariah had been Justin's professor and mentor in Psychology. He had guided Justin's brilliant mind into breaking the boundaries of his own intelligence. He was the man solely responsible for molding the young Justin Shrike. Yes, he was responsible for almost everything, even for unleashing and letting Justin's malevolent side to overcome him completely. He had pushed Justin's moral views and beliefs over the edge and allowed the wicked tendencies of the young man to completely control him.
Zechariah was Justin's mentor who at the outside seemed to be a harmless, wise old man but inside he was a psychotic monster. Whenever his second and evil identity would take over him, he could use his powerful, psychological way of using his words to control others and sometimes to even have them kill for him.
He was the mentor, yet Zechariah never felt safe anymore for he also felt one thing. He could read through Justin's thoughts and actions, and he knew what Justin thought of him. He thought of him only as a mentor and not even as a friend. He thought of Zechariah as an expendable ally, one he could easily dispose of in the future. . .
The other side had come. Insanity was arriving.
Zechariah stood up from his chair slowly. Then he suddenly grabbed the chair and threw it with all his towards the glass window. The glass however, did not break, not yet. Zechariah wasn't finished; he went to the window and began hitting it with his fists. Every blow hurt, yet he continued pounding the glass. His fist began to bleed and his knuckles began to hurt terribly, yet he still continued.
As the crimson red blood dripped from his fists, he thought of Justin. He imagined that glass was that pathetic little Justin Shrike, who without him would be nothing now. He despised that young man; he loathed every bit of him. That prideful young man thought he was the greatest and most powerful man in the world, but no he is nothing. Not even a cockroach to Zechariah. And one day, he'd step on him, crushing his weak soul.
And that Dennis guy, Justin's "loyal" friend. He is nothing but a lying little son of a bitch, who sided with Justin just because he was smarter and way more interesting than other stupid people. Yes, one day, he would be crushed too. They all don't know what they're messing with. Zechariah thought as he began to see cracks in the glass.
Oh, and that stupid, dumb log of a man. Crowe, yes that was his name. He is just a toy to Justin. A big and strong robot toy he used to protect from their enemies. That stupid log was so dumb, he can't even think for himself. Justin even had to make all decisions for him. Crowe is nothing but one big baby.
They were all nothing, nothing to him. They are nothing but dumb fucks who stand in his way.
The glass began to shatter. Yet Zechariah continued sending blow after blow. Taking all the excruciating pain willingly, Zechariah heard a cracking sound and the glass finally shattered completely.
Zechariah turned around and began to walk away. This is what happens to those who stand in his way. They shatter.
Paul Yeminah is a small, skinny guy with almost no meat on his bones - which is probably what saved his life when meeting Annathia and Vakini. He looked like nothing special: no freckles, no glasses, no pristine clothing or excessively dirty. His hair is a dull blond color, eyes hazel and bright, face a bit narrow and long, nose small, mouth thin, ears small, shoulders narrow, just about everything about him is small. His height - 4'11", age - 22, specie - human. Or at least, originally was so.
His best subject is mutation, something that interested him for a long time. Which is why he runs so fast, and is able to lift quite a bit of weight despite his tiny-ness. That was due to the previous subject he was with, a werewolf. He studied the genes, the DNA, everything, and applied the mutation to himself when he was completely sure of the results. The only side effect was a bit more hairiness than usual. Of course, the subject was abandoned after he was done. Werewolves were tricky things to deal with. He kept track of it though, until it met it's demise when it let a little girl anger it and lead it to a vampire.
Of course, it ended quite interesting with the girl, and that is who his current subject was. He had waited until she had another companion, and had not harmed him, before presenting himself a day later asking to join the group to get close enough to be able to study the subject properly.
They all had cell phones - though Annathia often lost or accidentally destroyed hers. Often times, instead she would howl instead. No one was ever very far away from her.
Sitting at his little computer desk, Paul was studying different samples of DNA and blood - that of his last subject, Vikini's, and Annathia's. A werewolf, a vampire, and the combination of the two. Of course, her albinism might completely screw the results. He was testing for aspects that would be warring against each other, and the result.
Werewolf blood was an orange-yellowy due to the mass of white blood cells compared to the red which enable the supernatural healing. Also due to the out-of-proportion white blood cells to red, the blood had to be pumped quicker to get the amount of oxygen needed to certain areas of of the body, and because of that, a slightly larger lung was needed, and the slightly larger lung caused slightly larger body mass, becoming the stereotype for werewolves to be big and burly. They also bled a bit more heavily before the white blood cells have a chance to patch it up.
Vampire blood was a very dark red, almost black and very sluggish. Most likely because of the lack of as much oxygen needed as someone living, causing the sluggishness, which causes the blood to become thicker, and therefore darker in color. Vampire wounds didn't bleed much, if at all. Of course, they couldn't replenish their own blood when it is lost, or to get it moving when it slowed to the point where the vampire would have troubles moving, so that's where the drinking blood of others came in. The DNA in it did nothing to the drinker, since s/he was already dead and no longer mass replicating cells. Well, there's always the slight chance the the previous owner of the blood would be drunk, and therefore the vampire drinking it would become drunk as well. The vampire track was different; it made no use of the waste systems, and instead directed everything consumed straight to the bloodstream. Solid matter is instantly thrown up, and certain poisons do nothing.
The combination of the two made a very confusing and unpredictable blood and DNA sample and bodily functions. Current analysts is is postponed until a more stable sample can be procured.
Muttering angrily to himself about the lack of results, Paul rolls away from the desk and tips his head back, looking at the ceiling and letting his mind wander. Vikini was annoying, always going on about how Annathia needed this or that while he studied her, especially when she had recently changed back and was naked. Not to say that he didn't enjoy a nice close examination of a subject with nothing to prevent detailed analysis, but Vikini did it a bit too hard and too long. He was also almost always in the way and looking over his shoulder. Sometimes he wondered if he'd take a bite out of his neck while he was standing bent over like that. It was quite unnerving. Annathia was also quite demanding, though never had uttered an understandable word. Almost always, she was looking for the next victim, and expected him to help find her one. She was also quite intimidating, and is not someone you would say no to. So that took away much time he could be using for researching and studying instead.
Sighing, he stood up and walked out of the room to find Annathia.
Thursday! Kinda pissed because I wrote out today's exercise yesterday and I thought I saved it before the power surged, and nope. Oh well.
Today's teammate is 'The Brute.' The Brute doesn't have the powerful presence of The Villain or the charisma of The Dragon, but if neither of them are leading the 'army of mooks / goons' (that may or may not be available) then The Brute is.
The dragon is almost always a better all around fighter (the reason tends to vary by series and by genre,) but the brute is usually both the physically strongest member of the team and the most sadistic. While the Dragon does evil 'out of loyalty' and the evil genius does evil for 'science!' the brute enjoys the act of getting their hands dirty and revels in fighting.
He (or she) always lacks the brilliance of The Evil Genius, (often being closer to the 'dim witted' side of the sliding scale, but not always,) and, in spite of being able to rally men under him/her, is often the lowest member on the authoritative totem pole out of their group of five and tend to get the least amount of respect from the other members. On the other hand, (provided they're even bothered by this,) they have plenty of people to take their frustrations out on.
So, who is your brute and where did they come from? How did they join the team and why did they choose to follow your villain? Why do they fight? How do they fight and what with? Do they rival the dragon in power / skill? If so, is this rivalry friendly, one-sided, hateful, bitter, just something to beat the boredom ... ?
Bonus: Show the brute in their happiest moment. During this, have them reflect on the other team members.
Huntington, as most people know him by surname, is a simple man of simple nature. Even older than Teach, Huntington would seem to have at least as much wisdom as he does, but unfortunately, the disadvantage of a bland younger life could not provide him the opportunities he so wished for.
Specifically, Huntington belonged to the House of Huntington, obviously hosting the best hunters, mountain men, and rangers ever. While for many this would be an honor to have, for the young boy, he was deprived of poetry, literature, and other fine arts he was supposed to be learning alongside the other young lords. In fact, his existence was hidden when many of the others were rounded up to be learning at the academy for future nobility positions. Because of this, he never learned the ways of nobility, and every proverb, every poem, every piece of delicacy was tossed out in exchange for wrestling bears, wolves, and even men with 200 lb. gain on him. In addition to being a practical shot and an excellent grappler, Huntington made for an excellent huntsman by chase; his physical prowess allowed him to storm through briar brambles and old trunks like a flood through a desert. He was inhumanely powerful by the time of his prime, standing at a 6'9 height and weighing upwards of 300 lb.
He went on this for a long, long while, until he met his niece upon a return trip to the castle. One of the first noble houses to have fallen in the civil strife, the Lupens were ousted from their lands by another larger house, and so the last survivor, Ophelia Lupen, was sent to the Huntingtons for protection.
It was she who teached him his first proverb : "He who walks with wise men will be wise, But the companion of fools will suffer harm."
Out of fear for her safety and his, Huntington took this out to the extreme the night after and ran his own family through with at least a dozen lances each, effectively usurping the house for himself.
However, without the leadership of his father, the Huntingtons fell into a great panic, and an uprising also ousted Huntington himself. Thus, it would be that the last of the clan, plus his niece, would live out the rest of their days in the wild reserve where their family had always lived in.
Until Teach managed to convince the two to join them, citing the Huntingtons' once-proud ways as a lure for the two to live up to their ancestors' reputation.
So, in actuality, Huntington and his niece come along in the Clemente troupe as a singular item, with the small girl (by now she would be 14, yet her growth had stopped since she was 11) on his shoulder at all times. For her sake and his, Huntington fights with almost everything he has, save for a few backhanded tricks he learned to kill barehanded even the largest of animals. Against the Dragon and all others, he could be the unsung strongest man in the entire world; what a waste for him, then, to walk such an unfortunate path.
The henchman, whom is disliked, is always the one with the gory hands and bloodied spear. His teeth were always fined with a nail buffer or the occasional knife, and sometimes he literally takes a 'bite' of his prey. Although his appearance may be your downfall, underneath all that blood and demise is a normal guy. Think of the most smart boy you've ever met. Then pair that with the dumbest boy. Who's in the middle? The henchman, Guy. No, seriously. His name is Guy. Maybe his parents couldn't think of a name.
Guy was the obeying man in the team. Teeth and the Doctor usually weren't so obedient. Even when Albany would insult him he would oblige and be that person. Nobody wanted to be friends with him Or at least now.
Guy had his sword sheathed, the point dripping with gore. He laughed with happiness and danced around the carcasses of his fallen enemies. Did anyone else get to do this? No! Guy danced in the giddiness of it all.
A strong, tall, and muscular man, Crowe was the kind of person no one would ever want to mess with. Everyone who didn't know him was afraid of him (and rightly so, his appearance was just so intimidating) except, of course those who knew him. His friends and brothers all know about his brute and powerful strength, yet they also one thing about him; he is as stupid as hell.
Crowe dropped from high school early, then he joined up with some criminal gangs and mafias, entering the dark criminal world.
It was in the mafia where he first met Justin, who easily lured him in, pretending to be a friend when all he ever wanted from Crowe was his size and strength. Justin knew he had enemies and so he found himself a bodyguard, a useful muscle man to protect him.
Crowe decided to intervene. After only a few minutes of conversation, the tension had quickly risen. He stepped in between Dennis and the gang of teenagers, placing himself as a wall of protection for his friend.
"You'll have to get past me first before you hurt Dennis here. If you want to live another day healthy and with a complete number of bones, step away now. Back away." He warned the gang of teenagers intimidating and threatening Dennis.
He wasn't going to let them hurt Dennis. If he had to smash some skulls and and break some bones, he will do it. And besides, it had been a long time since he last participated in fist fight. This was probably a very good time and opportunity to unleash his belligerent and war freak side. And of course, also to make sure that he still had his brawling skills inside.
It had been too long since he last fought with someone. Justin had had him threaten and blackmail some people but it never ended in a proper fight for the people were always too afraid of him.
The last couple of weeks had been rough. Every single one of Justin's friends had been telling him to do this and do that. It was almost as if he had become their resident errand boy. He didn't understand why they treated him this way when all he did was protect them from their enemies. Crowe found it hard to understand many things but he knew one thing alright, Justin and his friends all looked down on him.
Crowe snapped back from his memories as the leader of the gang approached him.
The leader of the gang, a tall, gangly kid with tattoos was obviously taken aback by his presence but he tried to hide it by putting up a smug face and cool expression. He then produced a bat from his side and showed it threateningly to Crowe. His three-man gang gathered around him, supporting his back.
Crowe smiled manically, pleased to be given the chance to have a fight. He then grabbed the bat from the leader's hands. He easily managed to rip it from the guy's weak grip and then he swung towards the teenager's head, hitting the side of his side and sending him reeling to the ground unconscious. Then Crowe turned to the other guys. He swung the bat again, landing a powerful blow to one of the teenagers' hips. The guy went sprawling, clutching his hips in pain.
Turning to the last two, Crowe struck one of the teenagers in the head and raised him up, throwing his body towards the last member of the gang. The teenager tried to duck but the throw was too fast for him. Before he knew it, the body of his friend hit his chest, knocking the wind out of him.
Crowe then threw the bat at them, saying, "You have no right to pick a fight you can't win."
He then turned to Dennis, "Let's go."
A large, dim witted fellow, not much beyond his strength. Never one to follow rules, he is the hardest member to control. He lives for money alone, and was recruited with the promise of large payments in perpetuity. Sadly, he doesn't care that he is killing innocents on his way to money. Though offered to serve in the Imperial Army, he did not join because the army did not pay as much as Ben. His chosen weaponry is a broadsword and shield, though the brute depends on either and does not fight effectively in battle.
Friday! (Please see the note attached to the tag list)
Today's teammate is 'The Dark Chick,' who I’m going to refer as ‘The Dark Heart,’ because this character can be a guy. This teammate, instead of being the 'grounding force of morality' for the heroes like 'The Heart' is a villain equivalent by acting wildly different from her (or his) group and usually being the biggest freak. More vicious versions of this character are loose canons, who can and will do whatever the hell s/he wants to whoever the hell s/he wants. This isn't always a "bad" thing, though.
For example, I’ll pull from his/her trope, “if the other members are hardened warriors, she'll be more aloof in her own world, or maybe even be smiling at the situation. If the others are a Quirky Mini Boss Squad, (kind of silly and incompetent) she's probably the most ruthless and competent one of them all. If the others are in it For the Evulz, she may be in it for money, personal background issues, or love, leading the others to question her allegiances.” The dark heart’s skill set also tends to be vastly different from the rest of the group.
While he/she may have an oddly “mothering” touch at times for their team (or the hero, if it’s that kind of story ... and if it is, s/he’s likely to have a change of heart or die trying) she's just as easily a seductress or a dominatrix. If s/he does show compassion to her teammates, it's probably rare or selective ... or because s/he has ulterior motives. S/he might let people cry on her shoulder, but God help you if you give her any blackmail material when you do it.
So, who is your Dark Heart? Male or female? What are their skills and talents and how do they vary from their team? How do they feel about their teammate’s goals and what made them join? Do they have someone in the group they gravitate towards? If so, why, and if not, why not? What do they think of the heroes?
Bonus: Show The Dark Heart in a moment of “compassion” (or genuine compassion, if you prefer) and detail their thoughts as they interact with the other person/people in the scene.
(REPLY TO THIS POST WHEN YOU DO THIS EXERCISE.)
@31TeV @ecoLyte @TheNewIAP @Ogre11 @SpartacustheGreat @Morgan_R @Swiftstryker @betaband @nmelssx @Sethaniel @Malkalack @Briar_Rose @MatGods @Wolfmist @bjhovey @AWarriorFan @FazzTheMan @Claw2k11 @Romulus @ISentinelPenguinI @GrottyStatute74 @WarriorCatsRPStories @Confused @jamescoker1226 @pinkalily21 @NeoTheCreator @jaryeth @DerpBacon @Penworth @Loki @clayton_97 @Starky
(So you all know, I'm extending the time limit for this week until Saturday next week. I'm not going to tally points until then so everyone on the tag list gets a fair chance to finish both the heroes and villains. As a result, I expect anyone who wants their full score to finish both teams. :P That's three weeks for only two weeks of projects.)
What if my main bad guy is also the "Dark Chick"? O.o
You don't feel you can make a character that contrasts enough from your other four main players to carry the air of being "the freak" of the group or something to that equivalent?
Silence, Adrien has been living behind a wall of silence his whole life. 29 years, for 29 long years he had hidden in the shadows, watching everything, observing the movements and the ways of the others. Everyone who knew Adrien thought that he had been deaf since birth. . . but no, Adrien could speak, he just did not want to.
He had long since learned of the sharpness of the tongue from his parents, who always used to quarrel when he was a little boy. His mother who was a strong-headed woman, often threw insult after insult to his crazed father, yelling at the top of her lungs as he pulled her hair and beat the crap out of her.
One day, Adrien's crazed, harsh father came home late smelling of alcohol and drugs. Adrien's strong-willed mother woke up from her sleep only to scold and to yell at her husband for coming home that late and at that condition. And, the father, having had enough of his wife's tongue decided to take action against it. He took a knife from the kitchen and sliced his wife's tongue right before his watching and crying son. The day after that, Adrien's mother left their house leaving her son with an insane man.
During the years with his father, Adrien made a vow to himself. He would never speak, he would never yell, he would never insult anyone the way his own mother had done to his father.
Adrien left his home and joined the military at the age of only 19 years old. Because of his athleticism, quickness, shooting skills, and ability to learn fast, he easily became one of the military school's best students. However, they refused to accept him because he was deaf. His silence hindered his plans and dreams.
Adrien left the military after a few years and decided to enter the criminal underworld, in the hopes of finding some action and blood. Soon he found himself entangled with a powerful mafia, some heists, and gang wars. It was there that he found what he was looking for, blood. Before long Adrien transformed into a skilled and cold-blooded mercenary. He came to be known as an infamous killer going by the alias "Kiler Kane".
However, after several years of success in his career, Adrien was suddenly pulled down when the mafia he was involved in was busted by the police. All his crimes were discovered and he was given a life sentence in prison. It was there that he met Justin Shrike, the man who would help him escape from prison and would change his life forever, unlocking his true nature as a raging, psychotic, killer.
A healer by trade, and cleric of the Order since age ten. He fell in love with another Order member, before they killed him for treason. He went into hermitage, and was rarely seen. He hated every Order member, knowing or not. But the person he hates the most is his love's own brother.....James. It was he that made the accusation of treason against his brother, and it was he that allowed Sergio to leave. Ben knew what had happened, and leashed his vengeful anger with a cause. While Ben calls for the destruction of the Order and Imperial Army, Sergio just wants one thing, James' head on a pike. He only speaks during battle, and that is to give orders to protect him while he heals the wounded, saying he doesn't care if any of them live or die, because he only wants the death of James. Of those following James, he feels sorrow and remorse that they have been "corrupted by his evil", and would gladly spare their lives.
Fervor, as he calls himself, is a gangly young man standing hunched at a small 5'5, but to his full height, stands actually at 6'7. Extremely light for his height, Fervor stands as a surprisingly competent member of the Clemente troupe, but not by battle.
He's an efficient torturer, especially one of the mind. As a vigilante in the past, Fervor had plenty of experience physically rending people to bits and pieces within the discreetness of the sewers, but a sickness that not even the best of doctors could identify stopped him short of heroism. A little more than just pissed off, Fervor became a bitter person and changed his weapons of choice from blade into words.
Short of a good bit of muscle, Fervor makes his words very, very harmful, and failing that, can employ various chemicals to disfigure and break down the spirits of anyone he targets. The Clemente troupe provided him the people, he provided them the information. It was nothing more than a business contract to keep him alive, but the contract paid well, and frankly, he didn't care who he was breaking down. In the end, people end up the same given enough time and resources : dead.
As for the people in the troupe, Fervor has some preference for Nicholas's company, though not nearly enough to give him sympathy. While Nicholas is a full-on psycho, Fervor is only human, and any and all guilt of his actions must be repressed or erased. The best way to maintain a character capable of that, precisely then, was to maintain company of a psycho, and to absorb anything and everything said psycho would spout out.
As for his enemies, he feels no real opposition towards them, but his lack of a care for politics drives him to stay within his comfort zone. If his contract is threatened by their existence and goals, it would only be natural for him to look out for himself.
That, and he might consider having the Queen for a slave. It was an entertaining thought for him, at least.
No one's finished their final team member yet... but you guys have until the end of this week.
Meanwhile, if any of you have suggestions / requests for a theme, or even just an exercise, I'd love to hear them.
Can we get a "write a final confrontation" as an exercise? I'm out of practise writing epic battles.
I've been considering that throughout these two weeks. I'd like to see at least a few people finish their teams, though.
As silly as this sounds, I'd also like to see an exercise devoted to writing combat. It seems to be something a lot of writers get wrong. XD
I agree. Much like writing dates, I've seen a lot of writers try to rush through battle scenes and they can come off as awkward, clumsy, or just as an obligation they're fulfilling, not something they want to do... hmm.
YOUR EIGHTH WEEK SCORES:
(Subtractions from regular 5, 10, and 15 point additions are made for missing sentences and incomplete scenes. The subtractions possible for this week are different than usual. Keep in mind, please, that you are allowed to work on scenes / sentences for the entire week, I will count exercises that you went back and finished, but once Saturday hits, the work you've done is judged ... with the exception of weeks where I am late in giving you guys your score or I offer extensions.)
Note: IF YOU DID AN EXERCISE AND DID NOT RECEIVE POINTS FOR IT, PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING FIRST BEFORE POSTING COMPLAINTS OR PMING ME. I emphasized that the two teams were related, that I wanted them both done before scoring, and I gave you guys more than one extension to finish them both. So, If I didn't give you points for your villain, it's because you didn't make your corresponding hero in week seven. I realize a lot of people prefer to write villains and that's a problem because heroes are just as important.
ISentinelPenguinI - (no longer on tag list) - 30
@Swiftstryker - 35
@Penworth - 55
@Clayton_97 - 25
This Week's Winner: Penworth!
Second place: Swiftstryker!
Honorable mention: TacocaT! - In spite of the fact that you do not want to be added to the official list, I felt I had to mention you because, points or not, you did very well. Great job.
I do have to say to all of you that I loved reading about the interesting heroes (or "heroes") and villains that you were able to come up with. You did an excellent job and, I must admit, I think it would be great to see some of those characters in an actual story on here. Think about it. ;)