Character Castle
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@everyone @writergirl101
Name: Teagen Jath
Age: 25
Appearance: Tall, a bit over 6 feet. Handsome to most, and knows it. Muscled, especially visible in the arms. Dark brown hair, curly, oily. Burnt skin, very freckled. Dark blue eyes, navy is probably closer color. Hasn’t shaved for four days, but usually is clean shaven.
Personality: Outgoing. Crazy. Hot-tempered. Disrespectful. Unloyal (to most), he can flip sides with the drop of a hat. Good actor if he wants to. Always seems to be smiling. (If he’s not something’s really wrong. Hates himself, but is to scared to kill himself. Untrusting. Avoids women, has no relationships with any, His mother tis the main reason, but he doesn’t share so. A big teaser with anyone and everyone.
Occupation: Sailor. /Not/ in the Navy. To many rules.
Voice: Loud, generally. And scratchy moat of the time from to much salt and yelling. But he can whisper, well, if he wants to.
Goal: To stay alive, and he doesn’t know the reason.
Quirks: He literally can’t stop smiling. Speaks whatever is in his head. Makes a big deal when he hurts himself, even if he’s fine. Likes things to be straight.
Jominkreesa
'Forth now! And fear no darkness!'
Ok, here’s Will’s entrance. It’s really long (sorry) and not very good but whatever, I don’t really care. 😉
_______________________________________________________________
Will smelled the rain before it fell. It was early morning, still dark. His feet hit the pavement, creating a rhythm that matched his rapid heartbeat. Sweat dripped into his eyes and onto the asphalt. The hilt of his gun cut into his lower back.
Headquarters wasn’t far away, but Will knew that the rain would fall before he got back. He pulled his hood up and pushed his loose earbuds into place. The sounds of the city were blocked out by the music, loud and low.
Will kept his eyes ahead, never looking behind or to the side. He didn’t need to: he could sense it all. The approaching cars, the occasional early riser. It was a sixth sense that he’d always had.
The first drops began to fall, splattering large spots on the pavement. Will continued down the sidewalk, keeping cover under the big oak trees encroaching over the park fence. He came to a crosswalk and waited, jogging in place. The traffic and the lights blurred together as the rain began to fall more heavily. He slipped a wet hand over his eyes and crossed the street.
On the other side, he picked up his pace again, falling into a quick run.
Five minutes passed before he reached Headquarters. The tall, chain-link perimeter loomed up like a prison fence in the darkness. Will passed by the guard shack with a salute to the yawning sentinel. He knew the compound like the back of his hand, and didn’t want to see it again. Every single day was the same. Run. Work. Repeat.
It couldn’t be all there was to life. Could it? Inside every part of that routine, beneath his every action, the question lay there. No one answered it. No one had an answer. All there was to life for them was to liberate the Citizens.
After that, what next?
Will didn’t know. He wouldn’t know until it was over with. And he hated it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An hour later, he slumped in the bathroom doorway, scarlet from the hot shower and wearing a gray sweatshirt and shorts. He ran a hand over his jaw-line, staring blankly at his bedroom. There was the bed, neatly made. A lamp without a lightbulb rested on the nightstand. The desk in the corner was empty.
The place was plain, simple, and aggravating. Will’s eyes fixed on the lamp. It was visibly chipped and scratched, and Will had no recollection of where he’d found it. But it was always there. Like everything in his life. There, but useless.
Then the shaking started. Soft, at first, but getting stronger. The lamp teetered on the edge of the nightstand, then fell and smashed on the floor. Will dropped into a crouch, hand clutching the gun in his waistband on impulse. His head spun and his fell to his knees, blinking and shaking his head. Dark spots appeared in the corners of his eyes. The world spun, so, so fast.
He remembered no more.
Silence.
Then…
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
Will found the hilt of his gun before he could open his eyes, his fingers combing through soft carpet. When he looked around, he swore under his breath.
He was in a wide, circular room. The light was dim—too dim to make out much but the underside of a table and doors all along the wall. Uniform, except for the colors. There were too many to count at once. It had to have been the fall that had blurred his vision, but every time he looked at the doors, they moved like the tide, ebbing and flowing in a confusing array of color.
The ticking clock was nowhere to be seen.
I’m dreaming, he tried to convince himself.
Will shook his head to clear it and got to his feet. Where was he? The shiny tabletop had been empty when he arrived, but now it sparkled to life. Some sort of holographic image was projected on the surface. As Will looked closer, small words labeled each of the dots on the image. Will squinted at the labels, his vision still muddled from the fall.
Then a gust of wind blew him backward, knocking him into the table and to the ground. A giant figure appeared across the room, falling to the ground in a tangle of feathers and hair. Will scrambled back, heart pounding against his ribcage. His back hit the nearest door, and he scrabbled around for the handle, keeping his eyes on the figure, who now had opened it’s…wings.
Will shut the door as the figure spun, brandishing twin knives. He gasped for breath, finger resting on the trigger of his gun. Blood pounded in his ears, blocking out all noise.
Will slumped against the door and turned to face the room._______________________________________________________________
Lame ending, I know XD
Who wants to write next? Since all y’alls characters are together, it might be kinda challenging, idk.
Sometimes you win, sometimes you learn.
Isaac saw the newcomer. Angels now. This castle ceased to follow ANY laws. But then again he had broken one by time travel so did it count anymore? Straitening his coat, He prepared to move when he felt it. A gnawing warning deep inside of him. Someone else was here. The angel was not a threat. Like everyone else, she was unsure of whether to fight or flee. The other presence was equally unsure but more crafty by avoiding the unknown.
“My name is Lytt, daughter of Pinon and Talaine. Who are you, and where am I?”
Isaac ignored her. He had to find the other person before they chose to attack. The room failed to offer enough cover for a gun battle. Out of the corner of his eye, Isaac saw a cracked door.
“I know you’re there. Come on out.” he said as he pointed at the door.
The Devil saw me with my head down and got excited. Then I said Amen
Do you have any info that I could use to portray Isaac realistically? If you already did a character bio on a previous post here, can you point me to it? If not, it would be helpful to have Isaac’s voice, his main personality traits, and his distinguishing quality(s). Thanks!
I’ll write Will’s next thing soon.
Sometimes you win, sometimes you learn.
It was too narrow to be called a room, but too short to be called a hallway. There appeared to be no ceiling; all that Will could see was fluorescent light, reflecting off of the white walls and floor. The room was completely empty.
Will shivered, still breathing hard, and got to his feet. The room was freezing, but he barely noticed, his mind racing.
What was that thing?
It had to be a dream. It wasn’t possible to have an angel… Then it hit him.
I’m in the sims.
The simulations were what kept the Citizens preoccupied as well as satisfied, in his world.
Why am I here? I’m not allowed to be in the sims.
He pinched his arm——hard——but nothing happened. His curse echoed off the walls, coming back to him louder than before. He glanced over his shoulder at the door, pale wood, stenciled with green to resemble ivy.
Did the angel hear me?
Will’s hand crept toward the gun in his waistband, the other resting on the doorknob. He couldn’t stay in there for too long——the temperature was dropping, as if the room itself sensed a disturbance and was determined to get rid of it.
Will turned the frigid iron handle, clutching his gun’s grip with sweaty fingers.
Then a tremor shook the ground beneath his feet. It wasn’t as strong as the one back at Headquarters, but Will froze.
Not again.
But nothing happened. All he could hear was his rapid heartbeat and loud breathing. He opened the door a crack, startled when voices reached his ears.
“——you, and where am I?”
Will didn’t risk closing the door for fear of them seeing him. His fingers curled around his weapon.
Then a low, gravelly voice said from outside, “I know you’re there. Come on out.”
Will frowned. The second voice couldn’t be talking to the angel, could he?
Will flung open the door and pressed against the wall, keeping the gun close to his chest. Nothing happened, except for a few gasps outside, which bounced off the walls and back into the circular room.
Switching the gun to his right hand, he pushed off the wall and stepped forward so that his left side was protected by the door frame.
The angel caught his attention first. She was tall, beautiful, and light in stance, but the reflexive movement as she turned her bow towards Will told him that she was dangerous. And her wings, large, speckled with black, and flared with surprise were a turn-off, too.
He aimed the gun at her, quickly scanning the others for weapons. The only other threat seemed to be an older man in a heavy trench coat, pointing a huge gun almost lazily at him.
Behind him, another man wore a rapier at his side, but Will didn’t know if he would be much of a threat.
It’s probably just for show.
The other’s were a mix of women and younger men, but Will fixed his eyes back on the threats.
“Who are you?”Sometimes you win, sometimes you learn.
Here’s a bio for Isaac.
Name. Isaac Petra (also known as Franz Fenrir, The Fenrir, Bože sedleško, Cerberus, Reaper)
Age. 18 (-180ish technically)
Appearance. 5’10, blonde hair, blue eyes, quiet rough voice, scarring on torso, back and upper arms.
Personality. Lone wolf. Serious and quiet. Calculating and alert at all times.
Occupation. Time traveler (formerly), saboteur, assassin, spy.
Goal. Destruction of Nazism and Communism by manipulating WWII.
The Devil saw me with my head down and got excited. Then I said Amen
Nice work, y’all! And I loved your description, Ella, about the flaring wings… I love the word flare…
Oh, guys, I just realized I made a mistake with Lytt’s bio. Let me redo it:
Personality Traits: Courageous, Leader, Humble, Listener, Speaker, Merciful, Faithful, Cautious, Loyal, Fierce, Shy, Manipulative, Easily Gives Up, Sensitive
One -Line Characterization: Lytt is a serious, calm girl who loves to fight for what is right, no matter the cost.
Strongest Character Trait: Courage
Weakest Character Trait: Manipulative Personality
How Others See Him/Her: A strong, courageous leader.
No. No, no, no. There was another human, with another strange weapon. Lytt didn’t like the look of it, especially since it was pointed straight at her head. She glanced around. The young man with the sword had drawn it and was surveying the scene with a half-smile on his face. The other young man with the girl looked totally freaked out – she didn’t blame him. Where she came from, humans were a threat to her people, almost a predator. And her people were monsters to humans. Probably because human’s weren’t half-animal.
“Who are you?” The human that had just come out of the adjoining room was speaking. His light brown hair complimented his dark blue eyes nicely. Lytt wondered what to do. She didn’t want to make a sudden move, because that would probably mean getting impaled by a dagger or arrow or whatever the weapon the young man was holding used. He didn’t look to be much older than she was, but the way he held his weapon made it clear he knew how to use it.
“My name is Lytt, the daughter of Pinon and Talaine.” Lytt responded when no one else did. After all, the weapon was pointed at her and she’d already voiced her name. Why keep it hidden?
Cautiously, she pulled her arrow from the string of her bow and placed it in her quiver in a show of peace. She felt vulnerable doing that at first, until she realized she did have her powers. She was still getting used to that. Got to remember those. She thought. Now, how did the Bestower say to stop an arrow from hitting you? You have to be fast and weigh the arrow down right away. Oh, boy.
I don’t know what else to write, so someone else is up!
Does it go against Isaac’s character if he is kinda tired of his group and just wants to get home and shows it (e.g. sighing tiredly, being sarcastic)? Or is he always reserved?
And since he’s technically a lot older, does he act superior to others?
Sometimes you win, sometimes you learn.
And can you write the next one, plz? I don’t know a lot about the castle, so if you could just answer some basic questions, that’d be great.
Sometimes you win, sometimes you learn.
Isaac is reserved. At the point in the story he’s from, he has been hunted by the SS and Gestapo for about three years so he won’t act unless he must for his safety. When he does, it is quick and precise. As long as no one attacks him, Isaac will view everyone as possible hostile or possible ally.
back to the castle.
Isaac looked over the man. He already had drawn his gun. His eyes spoke of some experience using it. It would be wise to try to talk to him first.
“Easy pal. We are all on the same boat. We have no idea where we are so you have two options. You can start shooting and turn this place into a bloodbath. Or you can put the gun back and try to learn some more before you kill your best chance for information.”
The Devil saw me with my head down and got excited. Then I said Amen
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