Character Story

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    Sorry I took so long. I tagged a bunch of you ‘cuz I have a lot about the Tower and the agents in it, so I need to know if I did alright.

    @urwen-starial @kari-karast @esmeralda-gramilton @emberynus-the-dragonslayer @mayacat @naiya-dyani

    Megyn stayed right behind the two agents as the strode down the alley and onto a secondary road. As they turned onto the north-bound major road, she glanced back over her shoulder to see the youth who at helped her close behind them. Good. I didn’t want him to get forgotten in the moment of action.

    Glancing back again, she noticed a large, fluffy dog trotting at his side. I didn’t even notice him before. 

    She faced the road again and lengthened her strides. Her thoughts turned back to the young man being carried in the arms of the agents ahead of her. “It’s a long way to the Tower, Father.” She prayed in a whisper, pursing her lips at the thought. “Please let him be alright.”

    . . . when they turn onto the road to the Tower

    As they passed out of Sector Two and out of the city, the dark shadow of the Tower of Punishment rose up out of the dark wilderness.

    Megyn shivered slightly. Though the wind blew more fiercely out here in the open, it’s biting cold couldn’t chill her more than the thought of what that shadowy spire symbolized. To the criminal, it was his just rewards. But of late, it had become the house of unjust torture for innocents. She’d seen children dragged off to the Tower for slight offenses or just suspicion. She’d heard some tell haunting tales of cruel beatings and gruesome deaths, all of which happened behind the bars of the intimidating fence they approached.

    She bit her lip as the giant iron gates, flanked by short block-shaped towers, loomed out of the dark. This place breathes an air of darkness and despair so thick that it makes the place seem darker and colder than the night about it. The only light about it is the fiery glow of torches in it’s few and barred windows.

    As they stepped up to the gates, the second agent hailed a guard atop the block. “Mockingbird Police Agents Schrode and Mander and Mockingbird FRMS Agent Harris. We have a prisoner in our custody.”

    The gates creaked open. Megyn shivered again as the sound echoed through the courtyard. She turned as the guard hurried up to them, carrying a torch in one hand. “I need to check your badges.”

    The second agent handed him his. “My partner’s kinda got his hands full.”

    The guard gave a stiff nod.”I know him anyway,” He replied curtly. Hastily, he looked over the badge, handed it back and nodded to him. Turning to her, he held out his hand. “Badge.”

    “Yes, sir.” She replied, already in the act of drawing it from her pocket. As she handed it to him, she asked,

    “Do you know if the Tower Warden is available?”

    “Why?” He asked as he looked over the badge and then handed it back.

    “I need to speak with him about the prisoner. He’s suffered a gunshot wound and I need approval from him before I treat the injury.”

    “He’s available as far as I know.” He nodded her on. “I’ll have someone get him.”

    As he  shouted at another guard, she followed the two agents across the courtyard into the shadow of the Tower. Icy shivers raced through her blood as the guards swung open the iron-studded doors into the first ward of the Tower. The fiery light she’d seen from without filled the room with orange yellow glow, bright in hue but dark with shadows. It appeared warm but she felt only chill and dankness in the tar smoked thickened air.

    “The interrogation room is to the left.” One of the the porters directed.

    The first agent nodded. “At ease.” Walking swiftly, he entered the room, his partner at his side and Megyn at his heels.

    As they entered, a door opened across the room and another man entered. “Warden .” The first agent greeted him.

    He nodded. “I was informed that FRMS Agent Harris wished to speak to me?”

    Megyn stepped forward and salutued him. “Yes, Sir. This young man we brought into custody sustained a gunshot wound in his lower leg. May I have approval to attend his wound while you are – preparing for the interrogation?”

    “May I see your badge?” He asked, extending his hand

    “Of course.” As she handed it to him, the first agent laid the young man down on the floor and stood to the side.

    The Warden glanced over it, then nodded and handed it back to her. “You’re clear.” Turning to the agents, he asked,”What’s the charge?”

    Megyn paid no heed to the answer but knelt on the floor next to the prisoner. As she bent over him, he shifted and choked, as though forcing a cry of pain back down his throat. His eyes slowly open and he glanced around.

    Her eyebrows, once furrowed in concern shot up as she met his gaze.

    “Lie still. ” She instructed gently as she set her backpack on the floor, unzipped the main pouch all the way and laid the backpack open on the floor. Reaching out, she carefully lifted his leg into her lap.


    WHEW!!!! I hope this is okay! Sorry if it’s too long.

    Psalm 119:11
    Your word I have hidden in my heart,
    That I might not sin against You.

    Kayla Skywriter

    Well done everyone. Here’s my next part with Tawny, and introducing *insert drum-roll here* Altan! *cheering from the rest of my characters.*

    @emberynus-the-dragonslayer @urwen-starial @esmeralda-gramilton @dakota @mayacat @kari-karast

    Tawny walked down a muddy street. She scowled as the mud splashed the hem of her pants, so, with a sigh of hopelessness, she crouched down to roll her pants into a cuff. This city was dirty and smelly. It was no wonder that everyone felt so hopeless. They were hungry and scared of the bullies who were always just around the corner.

    So they blamed the government, which wasn’t fair. The government hadn’t misused the resources, they had been destroyed. But the people on the streets didn’t care about the trade deals that were going on everyday. They didn’t know that the only thing allowing the farmers to provide food was the government. The people were uneducated. So they blamed the government.

    And the government blamed the rebels. It wasn’t reasonable, but those up beyond the reach of this devastation, who weren’t politically inept, knew that the people needed someone other than the government to blame or there would be chaos. So a peaceable group took the fall, and yet the government still had to play bad guy.

    Tawny stood up and looked at the street. No one cared. The rebels had been forced into hiding and the government was struggling to keep united and focused. And what did the common people do? Nothing. They stood there trying to survive while waiting for others to solve there problems. The apathy disgusted her. She kicked a crate. It rolled down the street, leaving a bare patch of cement beneath it.

    Bare cement.

    The cement under the crate was clean. Devoid of mud. Smooth gray cement.

    It was beautiful, and Tawny needed more

    Tawny ran over to grab the crate she’d kicked and started filling it with everything along the edge of the road. Waterlogged papers, dirty clothing, and all the other disgusting things were dumped into the crate. She worked her way down the street, grabbing another crate as soon as the first was filled. Her breath came faster. She needed this.

    She heard someone come up behind her, but she kept working. She was mad at them. They hadn’t already done this. Someone should have done something. There were children starving in the streets, and while some tried to feed them no one really got food, they just went hungry too.

    A crackle of flame drew Tawny’s attention. She turned to see a red-haired boy boiling water in the middle of the street. He was using the garbage she’d collected as fuel. Tawny’s anger ebbed, but she still didn’t speak to him. She just turned around and went back to work.

    She kept picking up garbage and occasionally brought him more water to boil. He continued to boil water and then poured the scalding hot water across the cement, and scrubbed it clean. Tawny eventually started cleaning the walls of the buildings as he cleaned the cement. She didn’t know how long it took, time didn’t matter. Someone was finally doing something. She wasn’t useless. She could actually do something.

    Her hands hurt, but it felt good. She could see the results of her labor and felt their effects in her bones. Tears began to mix with the mucky water dripping off the wall. A hand reached into her field of vision, and the bony fingers wrapped around her wrist. She let them pull her away.

    “I think we’ve done enough for today,” a familiar voice echoed in her ear.

    She choked and wiped her tears away. Now she had a clear view of the boy’s face. “Do I know you?”

    She was wrapped in a hug. “No, you don’t.”

    Tawny started to reply, but instead just buried her face into his shoulder and let the tears flow again. He held her. They just stood there in the one clean street, and he held her while she cried.

    He walked her home in silence. She didn’t even look up unless she needed to tell him where to go. There was only so much one could take.

    “Same place tomorrow?” he asked when they arrived.

    She nodded.

    He smiled and turned to walk away. Tawny watched as he disappeared into the city. There was something familiar about him. Something about a cat?

    How we chose to fight is just as important as what we fight for

    Esmeralda Gramilton


    That was so good! I love Tawny’s personality. She’s a lot like me (I think, from what I’ve read of her so far).


    Nice job with your part, too! This is honestly coming together really well.

    Congratulations, everyone!

    Coconut frosted brownies for everyone! (though, sadly, everyone will get the reference, because it was on our hangouts).

    I wonder what I was thinking whenever I re-read my old, well-loved stories

    Emberynus The Dragonslayer

    @kari-karast @kayla-skywriter

    Your part was great kayla.

    Hey guys we were thinking of names for the radio station. We came up with Outopia’s Aloft and Outopian Wings. Do you think either of these? Do you have anything of your own you’ld like to suggest?

    Sold souls and dead promises


    @kayla-skywriter Good job! 🙂 And thanks!

    Thanks! 🙂

    Psalm 119:11
    Your word I have hidden in my heart,
    That I might not sin against You.

    Esmeralda Gramilton

    Okay, I’m so sorry for not writing with you guys! My world is upside down at the moment, and I’ve been having trouble. But I do have a part done for Wes. The name “Outopian Wings” hasn’t been solidified (I don’t think), so if you have any ideas, go ahead and post them.

    @urwen-starial @dakota @kayla-skywriter @naiya-dyani


    “Alright, we’ve just received news from the Quill,” Director Helm said, addressing his workers. “The raid was at precisely 12:06 this morning. We need to write everything that happened and get it out on broadcast now. Stations, please. We go on in ten minutes.”

    Workers began rushing to their jobs, preparing everything they could beforehand and warming up the outdated devices so they could have the best performance possible.

    Wes stood in the doorway, watching everyone. Each of them knew what they were doing. Most of them had been working here their whole lives. But he knew that no-one was really seeing the point.

    Out of all the people helping out Outopian Wings, Outopia’s only remaining radio station, only Wes seemed to remember why they were reporting any news at all: Because people needed to know what was going on. The city was dying, and they needed to do everything they possibly could to protect it.

    But everyone had forgotten about the orphans living on the streets. Well, no, not forgotten. Just. . . gotten used to it. Because it had been like that for as long as Wes had known, as long as he’d been alive. But he’d always noticed, because he had been one of them.

    Wes was only working at Outopian Wings because the director had found him and taken pity on him and his injuries. And he wasn’t bad with tech, anyways. Not that that could get him very far in a collapsing, tech-compromised city like what Outopia was becoming. So he did his best for the Wings, and in return, they let him live on the ground floor of the Tower, since he had nowhere else to be, and his injuries were too bad for him to get work in many other places.


    “Mr. Helm, sir, half of our A Team hasn’t shown up yet,” one of the workers said to the director. “Who’s going out to the West Wing of the city?”

    “West Wing?” The director repeated. “Isn’t that Elina Walker’s job?”

    “Yes, and her team, Moriah and Abrielle. But Abi hasn’t arrived, and she’s not the only one. Is there anyone available to take the eight sector?”

    “Let me see,” Director Helm flipped through his list. He stopped on the second page and ran his finger down the list of names. “Is Kossa here?”

    “I am, sir,” Wes stepped out of the shadows.

    “Didn’t see you there,” the director said. “I’m glad you made it. Arm any better?”

    “It hasn’t been any worse,” Wes replied. As always, he added silently. The injury was already five years ago, and the director was only being kind, but Wes respected that.

    “Alright, then,” the director said. “I’m assuming you heard that conversation. Could you go take the eighth sector this morning?”

    “Of course,” Wes said immediately. “But sir. . . shouldn’t we be devoting our attention to last night’s raid?”

    “We are,” Director Helm said. “But we don’t want everyone crowding over there, either. Most people don’t know about this just yet.”

    “With all due respect, Director Helm,” Wes said. “I don’t think that’s likely.”

    “I’m listening.”

    “Well, sir, for one thing, it’s still very early. Only five. If we work quickly, no-one will notice us at all. Secondly, if you only send the Scouts for Sector Three, they could easily miss something, and everyone who sees them knows they’re working in Sector Three for you and then know that there’s a story.”

    “So what are you asking, then?” Director Helm asked.

    “I would like if there was a special team, sir,” Wes continued. “For. . . events. . . related to the Sp- the rebels themselves. No-one really needs to know they have a special purpose, and they’d have a lot more freedom that way. They don’t even all have to be from here, if you’d like, sir, if you’re worried about losing too many people. We can pay them specifically for this, whenever we need them to come in.”

    Wes could tell by the Director’s face that he was being won over. He tried not to smile.

    “That’s a good idea,” Director Helm said finally. “But we’re losing money, and I’m not sure we could pay a bunch of new rookies to come and find stories for us.”

    “Sir, if I may continue. . .” Wes waited for his director to nod before speaking. “Sir, if we can get these stories on the rebels, people will start to look to us for more information -more than they already do, I mean. If more people listen, we’ll earn enough money to pay these people and keep everything well run. And we don’t need many, anyways, maybe a team of nine, for each sector in the city.”

    “And someone for the center,” the director added, nodding. “Yes, it could work. If you can find people, of course.”

    “Me, sir?”

    “Yes, of course,” Director Helm told him. “Why not? You’re very capable. And with that silver tongue of yours, I’m sure convincing people to do it won’t be an issue.”

    “Thank you, sir, I’m honored,” Wes said gratefully. “When should I start?”

    “You could go out now, if you wanted,” the director told him. “Just start in the eighth sector, so you can pick up some stories on the way.”

    “Yes, sir.” Wes grabbed his journal and satchel from the lockers. “I will. Thank you.”

    “Thank you for trying so hard to keep us running so well,” the director said. “Go on, now.”

    Wes nodded and headed for the doors. He waited in the doorway a moment, though, listening to the worker talking to Director Helm again.

    “Sir, do you really think Wes is the right person for this?” the worker asked nervously.

    “I do,” Director Helm replied firmly. “Wes may be a little young, and I admit he’s a little single-minded sometimes, but he has amazing ideas. And ideas are just what our city needs to stay alive.”

    I wonder what I was thinking whenever I re-read my old, well-loved stories

    Emberynus The Dragonslayer


    Awesome part Esmeralda.

    I understand about your world being upside down. I think everyone’s is rn. LOL 🙂


    Sold souls and dead promises


    @esmeralda-gramilton Yeah, awesome job!

    Psalm 119:11
    Your word I have hidden in my heart,
    That I might not sin against You.

    Esmeralda Gramilton

    @emberynus-the-dragonslayer @dakota

    Thank you both 🙂

    I wonder what I was thinking whenever I re-read my old, well-loved stories

    Kayla Skywriter

    @esmeralda-gramilton @emberynus-the-dragonslayer @dakota Thanks 🙂

    Both names are good, but I prefer Outopian Wings.

    Esmeralda, how about Citrine handles long boring speeches and your characters handle the actual news? That seems to be what’s going on, but I’m just looking for some clarity. Good job on your entry too.

    How we chose to fight is just as important as what we fight for

    Esmeralda Gramilton


    That would work for me!

    I wonder what I was thinking whenever I re-read my old, well-loved stories


    @kayla-skywriter @kari-karast

    So, for those of you who could not join in on our google hangouts these are the ideas we’ve come up with.

    Ideas for Factories in Outopia– clothing, mechanical parts, weapons, matches, (any other ideas welcome)

    Important feature in the City – ancient man-made forest that was planted when the city was founded. It has a stone wall around it . . .

    Name of the Radio Station– Outopia’s Wings

    Next major event – the rescheduled sparrow meeting

    Next event after that – Zenyth murders Wes (Esmeralda’s charrie) with Saydra  (also Esmeralda’s) accompanying him. Probably with a knife in a dark alley.

    Next event after that! – Government taking action against the Sparrows, thinking that they were behind Wes’ death; exact actions undecided at this point

    How are you two doing? Where are you with your charries? Are there any parts you need to write?

    I think I got it covered, @urwen-starial ?

    Psalm 119:11
    Your word I have hidden in my heart,
    That I might not sin against You.

    Urwen Starial


    Yup! Thanks again.

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


    @urwen-starial You’re welcome!

    Psalm 119:11
    Your word I have hidden in my heart,
    That I might not sin against You.

    Kayla Skywriter

    @dakota Sounds good. I’m doing well and actually just had a breakthrough with my WIP. My life is actually less crazy now so I’ve had more time to write, and will be doing so.

    I don’t have anything super big planed for any of my characters at the moment. Citrine is just background for now and most likely won’t pop up again for a while. Pasha is still following Kedori and I’ll leave him there for now, but I’m ready to write another part for him as soon as is necessary.

    Tawny and Altan are my main focus right now. Altan is a law enforcement officer, but he’s more of a cop where as the other law enforcement I’ve seen around the story are more like government agents. I’d like to get Altan a case, but for know I’m just focusing on keeping him and Tawny together.

    If you’ve got ideas for Altan I’d love to hear them. Everyone, Altan would love to try out some ideas.

    How we chose to fight is just as important as what we fight for

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