Character Story

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    Esmeralda Gramilton


    I was looking up synonyms, and I think ‘house’ sounds best. I don’t care really, if you find something better, but I like “Knot House” enough.

    “No-one can judge your worth; They can only influence your judgement of your own worth.” ~Elysso

    Esmeralda Gramilton

    Also, someone remind me when the meeting is scheduled for the rebels. Was it 6:00, or did we ever decide? I forget.

    “No-one can judge your worth; They can only influence your judgement of your own worth.” ~Elysso

    Veraza Winterknight

    @naiya-dyani @urwen-starial @mayacat @esmeralda-gramilton

    I like all those ideas!! I think I like Knot House more than if we substituted something for ‘house’, tho.

    Urwen, yeah, I’ll have Talia help him out, and I shall write it soon.

    I’m gonna bring another charrie in, too, on the Sparrows’ side. (Then I’ll have one on all the sides!) I have literally only written a single piece of flash fiction backstory with this character cuz she’s dead by the time the story she’s in actually takes place, buuuut I should still develop her in case of memories or convos about her. So anyways, I’ll stick her on the Doc and probs bring her in at the meeting. *coughs* Just thought I’d let y’all know.

    "You can dance with my henchman."

    Emberynus The Dragonslayer

    @esmeralda-gramilton two hours past mid-night I believe

    Sold souls and dead promises

    Esmeralda Gramilton

    @emberynus-the-dragonslayer Perfect! Thanks!

    “No-one can judge your worth; They can only influence your judgement of your own worth.” ~Elysso

    Thomas (CrØss_Bl₳de)

    I’m not really gonna be here.

    Sorry. Again, just call me when you need something spiced up.

    And have fun!

    *Forum Signature here*

    Emberynus The Dragonslayer

    @kari-karast @naiya-dyani @mayacat @esmeralda-gramilton @kayla-skywriter @urwen-starial @dakota

    Alright then, unless anybody has something else. . .


    Here’s the (horribly long I’m afraid) first part about Cade.

    *winces and holds breath*

    The light in the sky was fading, the sun was going down. This sunset would have looked beautiful over the ocean or a mountain range or even over a small peaceful town. But over the wrecked city of Outopia it was ominous, as if a herald of what was to come. Cade sighed, as he watched the sun sink lower through the cracked, dirt-stained window. He knew the sun would rise again. He knew it would come peering up over the edge of the earth, but would it rise to find this city standing? Or would it find it in ruins worse than it was in now?

    He let his eyes fall back down to the small journal in his hands. He had stopped mid-sentence, but his heart was far too heavy to continue now. Shutting the book, he pushed it back into it’s crack between the concrete blocks of the wall. For a few moments he sat there silently, staring at the dirty floor, his thoughts far away. Then, he rose, squared his shoulders and walked to the door. As he opened it, a man ran up to him

    “Beta 7.9!!”

    “Yes, Meyers?”

    “Here sir,” a paper was stuffed into his hands, then the messenger hurried away.
    Cade looked after him a moment, then looked down at the paper in his hands. The sparrow insignia. With a slight sigh he unfolded the paper and read it as he hurried to the door of the building and out onto the street. His eyebrows rose, then his face grew grave. He refolded the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. He quickened his pace, hurrying down the streets.

    Looking up, he saw the darkening sky. Red, yellow and purple streaked the clouds overhead. The sun was dying in the west. Is the future of this city dying too? He was a leader in this group, and it was for the worthy cause. But he realized how much more damage this could bring to his city. As much as he wished to simply help the city, he knew the government would never except outside help. . . at least not until they absolutely needed it. The tension could only make things worse.

    “And how can you help someone who won’t except help?” he whispered, “What are we doing? There must be a reason I found myself in this bleak world, but what reason? Sometimes I wish I could go back to the world I once knew. . .” but then he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders once more. That life- or dream- or vision- or whatever it was, was gone. He couldn’t go back. . . at least, not yet. He was no longer Caden Maddox. He was Beta 7.9 and he must do what he could for these poor people.

    A sound made his head jerk up. A child crying. How often had he heard that sound in the past few months!! He couldn’t just let her cry. Changing his course, he headed towards the sound. His steps quickened to almost a jog. He turned a corner and found her.

    She looked no older than five years old. She was quite a sight with her torn and soiled clothes and her golden hair dirty and tangled, sitting against the wall of an old, crumbled building, crying brokenheartedly.

    Cade stood for an instant looked down at her. Then sitting down beside her on the street, he lifted her into his lap. She gasped and choked, raising large, fearful brown eyes to his face. He smiled at her. She gazed at him a few seconds in wonder before burying her face in his chest and sobbing again.

    Cade squeezed her tight, stroking her hair with one hand. He didn’t know what else to do. He felt so sorry for her, but right now, they were both too full of hard ache to speak. Gradually her sobs calmed though, till finally she raised her head and looked him in the face again.

    “What’s wrong?” he asked, at last able to command his voice again.

    “I’m- I’m so hungry!” she bit her lip, “They said I had to go cause they didn’t have enough food for me anymore, they need the food for themselves. My brother left me here,”

    Anger surged through Cade’s veins. Abandoned by her own family! But such was the state of this city. The children were thrown out of their homes. They were too young to work and so just seen as mouths to feed that could bring nothing in return.

    “I’m so hungry!” the little girl cried again.

    Cade swallowed hard and kissed her forehead. Standing up, he lifting her up in his arms. Just feeling how light she was sent a pang through his heart. “Well, let’s see what we can find to remedy that problem,” he answered, smiling at her, “What’s your name?”


    Quickly he retraced his steps to where he had first heard her crying. From there he continued on in the direction he had been going. He talked to her a little a they walked and her answers gradually grew longer as she found herself quite taken with her companion. But as they walked farther she grew tired and soon fell asleep, her little head leaning on Cade’s shoulder and her golden curls lying across his brown leather jacket.

    Cade stopped in front of what appeared to be an old, boarded up shop. A rather small building, and not very welcoming in appearance. He raised his hand and knocked on the door. Two long knocks, three short knocks, a short pause, then four long knocks and one short knock.

    The door swung open and a serious faced young woman appeared (adding another charrie). “Beta 7.9” she nodded, “Come in sir. Is the child alright?” Stepping out of the way, she let him pass into the room.

    “Yes, just tired and hungry,”

    The room they entered was a small foyer with a few old coat hangers. It led into probably the homiest looking living room in the city. But it’s hominess was not richness. It was very simple indeed! It’s hominess came from a the glow of life and warmth and care with which everything was arranged and the strength of mind of it’s mistress.

    “How have you been Miss Joan?”

    “I dare say better off than this little girl. Here, sit down sir,” she pulled up a chair for him.

    “No, I can’t stay long,” Cade spoke softly, “This is Myra, her family abandoned her–you know–Do you have a place for her to stay?”

    “Of course Sir. Let me take her,” Joan held out her arms and Cade gave the little girl to her. Myra stirred and whimpered, but did not wake up. Joan turned to carry her out of the room. “I’ll be right back,”

    Cade nodded. Joan hurried from the room. Cade stepped to the window and looked out at the city. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear Joan re-enter the room. He didn’t even know she was there till he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked at her, trying not to let what he felt inside show on his face.

    “Sir. . . don’t you want some supper?” Joan’s greenish hazel eyes looked up into his russet ones.

    “No. . . no thank you I’m not hungry. . . are you coming to the ‘knot house’ tonight?”

    (knot is one name for a group of sparrows. Just thought knot house sounded like a cool name for the meeting place. What y’all think?)

    “Yes, but-” Joan’s hand tightened on Cade’s shoulder, “Sir, you’re running yourself down- you need to eat something. I don’t have much, but what I do have is yours as our leader,”

    Cade smiled, “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay- I have to get to the ‘knot house’,”

    “I’ll get you something you can take with you,” she hurried out of the room before he could he protest anymore and returned in a moment with a steaming bowl of soup. “Here sir,”

    “Thank you Joan, but really this is too much I-” Cade stepped back, not taking the bowl.

    “We must take care of our leaders Sir. I won’t let you starve yourself. Without you this group will fall apart. Take the food, I’ll get by,” she held it out again

    Cade sighed, pressing his lips tight together for a moment, then took the bowl. “If there were more people in the world like you, Joan, this city would be a much better place,”

    “No Cade. What this city needs is people like you,” Joan smiled quietly.

    Cade swallowed and looked at the floor. Then slowly he raised his eyes to her face again. “Thank you Joan,” he whispered, “You don’t know how encouraging that is,”



    Sold souls and dead promises

    Urwen Starial


    Good going! Much better than my little ramblings!!! 😀😀😀


    Yay! *runs off to find Kirat and tell him the good news*

    Last question for all before I start writing a part for Jin. . .

    Should the city have a dungeon? I think the idea of a tower would be cool. A tower on the outskirts of the city, where they keep the offenders of the law.

    “Tower of Punishment.” *voice echoes into the distance* XD just an idea, they need a place to keep the rebels and people they catch.

    “Tears sparkle like fallen stars, the world at our fingertips, We didn’t know, It wasn't happiness.


    Kenma pulled the sleeves of his hoodie lower, despite it being a bit too warm out for the worn jacket.  The scars on his arm made him self conscious, though it had been a long time since he’d gotten them.

    Of course, how he got them was always the question. The scars looked like claw marks, coming down from the tip of his collarbone to his left shoulder, and making their way all the way down his arm in a spiral fashion and ending on the top of his hand. It looked like he’d been mauled by a wild animal, though there weren’t any in Outopía, of course. Kenma remembered where he got the scars though, and that was the strange part.

    As far as he knew, he’d always lived in the city. But it was like he had two sets of memories. The memories from his life, growing up and living in the city, and a life in another world. A world with sword fighting and animal partners and danger around every corner. And… there had been a war. Kenma had fought in it with his friends, and won, though not without some hardships.

    The rational part of Kenma knew that it had to be a dream, but another part of him wished it could be reality. It seemed a lot more exciting than here in Outopía, and anyway, how else did he get those scars? Nothing he remembered about growing up here had ever led to any kind of accident that could leave scars so severe and animalistic.

    There was also another person he knew who remembered what he did. And he was coincidentally the person Kenma was going to visit.

    Kenma turned down a few more streets quickly, heading more towards the center of the city. He arrived at a large stone building and headed round the back, ducking behind the wall before anyone saw him.

    Kenma adjusted his bag and knocked on the wooden door.

    An older boy with grey-ish silver hair and a white coat opened the door. His mismatched eyes widened when he saw Kenma.

    “You’re early!” He hissed, abruptly grabbing Kenma’s arm and pulling him inside.

    “I know!” Kenma replied cheerfully. “I thought I’d surprise you a bit today. I think I did my job.”

    “What would you have done if one of the others had opened the door?” Rin asked, pushing the orange-haired boy inside one of the empty study rooms. “You know civilians aren’t supposed to know about this entrance. You could have been arrested!”

    “But it wasn’t someone else.” Kenma pointed out, perching himself on the desk. “It was you, and I wanted to get here early. I don’t know how I knew it was safe, I just went with my gut, and look at that, I’m fine!”

    Rin groaned. “You know, you’re going to be the reason my hair actually turns gray at seventeen.”

    Kenma swung his legs. “Well, at least I accomplished one of the things on my lifetime bucket list.”

    “You little brat.”

    Kenma giggled and dodged the halfhearted swat sent his way. “So, Rin, what’s new?”

    Rin sighed, pulling out a couple of papers from a dusty shelf. “One of your friends got chased from the square today, after the officials saw the sparrow drawn in front of him.”

    “Who was it?”

    “Who do you think?”

    Kenma sighed. “Kirat?”

    Rin’s affirmative hum was all he needed. “You guys had better lay low. The council is still in debate on whether you guys are a threat or not, but based on recent evidence behind those fires ten years ago, they’re going to hunt down anyone they see with the sign on sight.”

    “Fake evidence though.”

    “Of course. It was forged, but it’s the only lead the council has.” Rin scowled. “I should know better than anyone that it’s all fake. But I can’t prove it, so my claims are disregarded.”

    He traced over the scar on his face absent-mindedly. “On a brighter note though, I think Kirat got away. That kid is resilient. But be careful going home, ‘kay?”

    Kenma nodded. “Got it. So… about the memories.”

    I do not write the story... the Universe writes the story and I am simply its messenger.

    Esmeralda Gramilton

    Hey, I’ve been working on Sandrye’s second part a little, and it’s takes place around, like, nine o’ clock, so if anyone has something happening sooner, to keep things organized would they mention it?

    @mayacat @emberynus-the-dragonslayer @kari-karast  @kayla-skywriter @dakota

    “No-one can judge your worth; They can only influence your judgement of your own worth.” ~Elysso

    Emberynus The Dragonslayer


    *Squeals* is it really good?!!!

    Sold souls and dead promises

    Emberynus The Dragonslayer




    The Tower of Punishment idea sounds cool. . .( And creepy which means doubly cool)

    Sold souls and dead promises

    Veraza Winterknight

    @emberynus-the-dragonslayer @mayacat Nice!! I like both your posts!

    I can try… tho I’m not entirely sure what the time frame is myself, so… XP

    "You can dance with my henchman."

    Veraza Winterknight

    OH. And I like the Tower of Punishment idea! Now, if y’all’ll excuse me… I gotta go save Kirat. XD

    "You can dance with my henchman."


    @emberynus-the-dragonslayer Thanks 😀

    I hope it’s satisfactory

    I do not write the story... the Universe writes the story and I am simply its messenger.

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