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| Kia'Dae; Baby don't hurt me | |
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| Topic Started: Dec 5 2016, 08:06 PM (116 Views) | |
| Kilik | Dec 5 2016, 08:06 PM Post #1 |
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Keep it short, but embellish
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An excerpt from the Girl of Secrets- A play; John L. Everrett -219 AF You'll know her when you see her. Coarse hair of autumn, that falls to her shoulders, and is generally unkempt, apart from the double braids which crown her. You'll notice the illumination of the golden glow of her eyes. A shemaugh scarf, checkered in purple and white, that's usually loosely wrapped around her neck into a hood, to hide her face. Those defining things are her only defining traits; That shemaugh, her only defining article of clothing that you'll find wherever she goes. She prefers to hide in rags most often. You'll notice fairly quickly, The girl will disperse into the crowd, a chameleon of the environment. Don't believe it? Try meeting her. Try finding her. If she wasn't so distinctive from those ancestry traits, you'd never know her. Though I encourage you to understand, no two stories of Kia'Dae are the same from those times- those who know her and those who hunt her, they conflict with the truth. Especially in those times of old, newfound freedom. My name, is Kia'Dae Da'Laan. They call me mixling, which has nothing to do with my mixed ancestry... At least, that's what I'd like to think. Let's be honest here, I'm a ghinaari, sort of. Before the Ghinaari were cursed to the desert of Alendia, the Dwarves sold some of us into slavery, my great grandmother was born of these slaves. She was considered lucky, being forced into a brothel of value in Strathmore. As diluted as the blood may be, I am Ghinaari first and foremost. Just the child successor of a long-descending line of whores. Hence the last name Da'Laan. It's a mixed language of common & Ghinaari. Insinuating that I'm a bastard child of those specific brothels, I wear it proudly though. It is how I learned about our culture and how I'll find my way home. Such a long journey that was, you'd be surprised the amount of tears come when you travel alone for such a long trip. Eventually, if you're lucky... They'll stop flowing, you'll learn we're always alone and when you die, you'll find no material possession goes with you. You'd be surprised to note, I am learned in reading and writing. It was important to learn that much, as you find that the real value is in the minds of the people, and not so much as what is in their pockets. I suppose I could tell you, not that I like giving free information out, that what a person knows - others will pay far more for it than what that same person can carry. There you go, I won't even charge you for that tidbit, just like John gave me the one free lesson. I guess you can say I've been blessed by the stars. Around the age of ten, I was sold from the brothel to be a personal caretaker of some wealth in North Valentis. They had me in chains and one rainy day mid travel, I stumbled in the mud. When I fell, so did my escorts off his horse. Now, you might know better but I do like to think he was merely knocked unconscious. I took my chance and fled, I can still hear them chasing me into the darkness - feel the racing flutter of my chest. I can still smell the amalgamation of mud, moss and a body, his body, that didn't care for its owner. The scent of urine, stained my tattered clothes. The rest of the events are but a blur but I do know that I fled back to my homeland in the deserts of Alendria, it took some time to get there mind you. That's when the loneliness kills you. That's when I learned the hard way. The scythe knocking on your door, it's gleam will taunt you, try to hypnotize and sway you to give up. You'll find the will to survive or you won't and I know firsthand, there are many who don't have the will to do so. Mostly I travel from outpost to outpost working my way as a thief among their ranks.. I have spent the last ten years like this. My hands have developed the proficiency needed for me to survive. Why my hands? What? you think I'd actually steal willingly, its a survival mechanism. They call them sticky fingers for a reason and they act of their own accord. Don't believe me? Take any child and put them on the street, they'll learn the same way I did, people are just more concerned about their possessions and what possessions they'll soon have. Not a one of them cares that these things do not go with you when The Scythe swings for you. Yes my skin isn't as dark as my brethren, we can attribute that to whatever muddling of my ancestry that came from the brothels. Well, you know what else you can attribute to my ancestry? These amazing golden eyes. They glow with the glow of the morning dawn a bright yellow rimmed with tints of an orange shine and late at night they produce a bright glow, if you've ever a chance to see a group of Ghi'naari late at night... Well you'd know how terrifying of a sight this can be. My hair is touched by fire, no not actually. Though it would be pretty awesome to have hair made of actual fire. Kissed by fire? Well... I suppose if fire could kiss it'd burn and I don't actually want that to happen to my hair. Hrm... Well I'm not going to use the color red. Well, because I was going to use the color red to explain who I am as a person. The HELL do you mean colors aren't meant to explain a personality. Okay. Okay. OKAY! Just stop and let me tell this my way, I mean you're here because you chose to be. I'm here because this is mine. I'm SUPPOSED to be here and you're just along for the ride. Okay, so as I was saying. I'm a wee bit impulsive not that I'm a slave to my emotions or anything but I'm probably a slave to my emotions from time to time. I just want to do things how I want to to do them, when I want to do them... right now. So I go do the thing when the thing pops up and wham bam thank you ma'm everybody is satisfied. Why would you be thinking about sex right now? I get that I'm attractive but I'm not interested in... Oh.... That's not what I meant. Because that's not what I meant to say. I mean, I did say it but it's not the point I was trying to convey. Fine. Fine. I'M A VIRGIN! By the dragons, the eldritch and all the Scythe, what is wrong with you. Yeah I get it, it was a sex joke. No I didn't see what I did there, you don't have to rub it in. Where was I? At some point in my arrival to the wondrously hot, dry and barren lands that my ancestors call home I came across a bard. I suppose we shouldn't call him that, maybe a playwright although a sellsword would be the most apt description. That's been my life. A serious of events produced and continued for the means of survival. It's been me and mine for a very long time and it was just me for so much of it that... Well, how could you understand? You've got a home don't you? Friends to talk to... The freedom to do as you choose and act and be who you want to be within the confines of the imaginary rules the world has issued you. YOU. You're the kind of person I HATE. Even had a parent to keep your clothes and hands clean. I bet you feel awful warm against the night winds where you are as well don't you? Never have to fear The Scythe come knocking at night, just because you have things that others want. What you have. I don't want it. I sure as hell don't need it. But I will use it. The Pulse desires it and it looks like The Scythe might come knocking for you after all. You'll hear it in the winds. You will conjure it in the dark, first in your own mind, where the people around you can't help you, until it drives you mad with fear, famine and you'll hear the death's shudder with each rasping breath like it did me. You'll curl yourself up with all of those things you have surrounded yourself with and within them. You will see me, you will see The Scythe. You will beg to be like me. Instead I'll give you that freedom that I can't have. You'll be alone. Even with all those voices in your head. I promise you. You'll die alone. JOHN, Singing Blade of the Weeping Glade and other such annoying titles. Firstly, they said you had some questions.... While I mustn't just give such information freely? Excuse my manners. Its a habit of the business and the work is a bit light this season. Besides, its not like I'm giving you a dirty sheet. Wonderful, I do appreciate your patronage Mr.? Ah, never mind, I'll call you Jack... Or would you prefer bunny? As in all ears, you understand me? Kia'Dae has always been a favorite of mine. The girl listens and has a quick hand. It of course didn't take her much longer to find out that while we appreciate quick hands, I prefer good ears, yes you're catching on Jack and let me tell you, that girl has a knack for hearing the right information. So with her knack of things, I tried to teach her to think for herself. It's not like she had much else going for her. When I found her she was a small child in rags. A begger orphan that drifted from town to town in Strathmoore. Unfortunately, thinking isn't exactly her greatest strength. Though the few idea's she has are usually brilliant, Kia'Dae is more like one of those who can feel out a situation. I'd say a go with the flow but I'm not sure that's the right way to put it. She is very creative and passionate and abstract thinking. These are just a few of the finer points of her skills. There's been a few instances of just complete hate that I've seen in her. It's not exactly a worry of mine... Nobody is perfect after all. In Kia though, dislikes become complete hate. While I appreciate the extra means to manipulate her, I'm just not sure if its a commendable tool. I'd rather a more flexible tool, like idiocy, ignorance or oblivious and while her hates are sometimes just heightened forms of ignorance. Its a bit too extreme for my tastes most of the time. She's had these feelings since I've known her, shame that. I mean, could you imagine such a thing Jack? Such a young person with a complete distaste of the Nurns, Djinn, were-wolves... If their too different or apart of the general consensus of the population... Well, she'll have an opinion of them. Sometimes I wonder if she's too free spirited. Should've left her on the streets I think she'd been happier there. Regardless. I treated her as a bunny at first, then later as a street mole. I had her roaming the streets and outposts for me, collecting information from anyone loose lipped enough to tell them. I need inspiration for my plays after all. I tell you, one of these days, these plays of mine are going to influence the world. You get enough people agreeing with each other you can overturn everything after all... Hrm. This was up until a couple of years ago, I tried to have her included in my plays but the stage just isn't in her passions. I sent her to the Ghinaari from there. Clever girl still works as a bunny for me and she gathers plenty of information for me about their on goings... Usually this is enough for me to know when to avoid a specific outpost. Sometimes I get more tasty... Morsels. Not sure if those sheets are clean though. I think, one day, she'll be my successor. I'm glad to have her as a protegee after all, she is a prodigy of sorts. Fully capable of everything she does, or at least, everything she's passionate about. If you want to know anything about her last couple of years, I suspect a friend of mine would be of interest to you. He's held her patronage for quite a while now. I guess it's only natural, her written work has been rather exemplary, though I'm willing to very much bet that in general, all of her work is rather exemplary. Oh? Wonderful. Gold does have that musing reflection that everyone likes. The name you're looking for is Jorkang. A full blooded sand elf that has... I suppose the best way to say this is, adopted her into his tribes. Jorkang, combat instructor and tactician of the Ghi'naari Wanna fight? Of course you do. Why else would you send a letter this far into the desert? And then to insist on requiring information on one of mine? Of course John sent you. Man's gotta have jackrabbits of his own... I suppose we can talk. Not like you'll get very far around here if you come bearing threats. Yes. The girl is no different than my own son to me. She has skills in confined combat really anything within twenty paces in the sands and you'll find yourself on the ground. While her proficiency isn't much with weapons, you can bet that she at least has some skill with them. To be frank though, its the environment and her creativity which has more utility than to be expected. Her mudwork is by far on par with most. So I'm sure you can understand why she's been a sort of ranger for us. It gives her the freedom Kia so heavily desires while supporting the will of the Ghi'Naari. Don't you dare think of her as a half elf of any kind she may not have been born within the barriers of the sand but Kia did come home. The patronage was to keep her fed. John may do many things for his jackrabbits, I'm just not sure he takes the appropriate care for them. That bunny... She definitely needed the appropriate care. A hunger for more. Her morals are like having your head in the clouds. I remember... I remember having to explain to her a hundred times. You can ask why are things this way or you can try to change them. Change however doesn't come without sacrifice and there aren't many people willing to pay those tolls. Of course, Kia always had an answer, despite the fact that those answers may not have always been right. Forcing others to pay the tolls for their dreams is a dark thought. truthfully, I blame John for this, some kind of handler he is. Treating her like a gutter rat. The abuse some of his street urchins get is blatantly obvious though its not like many people would ever really catch on. Do you understand? The girl has many dark answers. I suppose this is in part due to her upbringing. A part my hand played in it... There was a time when she was trained to be the tip of a spear, I had thought she'd be best outfitted for mudwork. There were other more recent times that we taught her to be the shaft. Instead, these days I believe Kia is more like the bindings between the two. I think I've always known this, She's always known this anyways. It a rare kind of person to be in such a situation, honestly. I do believe she may be far more than just merely dangerous. I mean, Kia'Dae is alive for starters. A fifteen year old girl, who has traded information for two-thirds of her life, has done much more than just survive, you can't always run when people know you're listening. I've heard stories that she's come into magic, I've sent word for her to be intercepted by her Uncle, he's to teach her. I'm worried for her, the elf has come so far. Lets hope that the magic doesn't overwhelm her, overwhelm her dreams. Her ideology might not be perfect but they are better than most. I suppose there would be no harm telling you. Understand, you'd be a mere sand -the words written here don't translate well, something similar to a worm in a birds nest- and sadly, they're not ones to accept or even read letters. You'll have to go in person. -Signed, stamped and wax sealed bearing the militaristic combat arms of a unrecognized clan Flickering by candle light, his hand reached for a mint leaf. A soft sigh as he placed it in mouth and chewed on it intermittently. Thumb and middle finger applied pressure to his temple as his hand slid back his hair. He whispered softly in the dark tent. Looking over his shoulder he seemingly spoke to a lump of a sleeping body. Such a lonely life you've lived, such a lonely life you'll continue to live. His concerns were buried well under the flickering glow of his eyes. "They're looking for you girl. Caught one of our own posing as you, seems she couldn't keep her mouth shut. I've taught you what I can, lets see how well you've trained. You're in for a long trip." The lump of sheets didn't move for a time. JorKang knew he heard her and he let his head fall with all the frustrations of a father feeling inadequacy and incapable of sheltering his children. "I've sent them towards your uncle. You'll have to find a way to learn to control the pulse yourself, You'll have... by my count a weeks start. Stop by and visit John I'll have some form of mission statement for you with him. Just to keep the higher ups happy. I'll keep the time-span open ended... Like I said, you're in for a long trip." As a fatherly afterthought he spoke again. "Take my Shemaugh, keep yourself warm." The sound of sheets hitting the sand was the last thing he was capable of hearing. The girl was good at what she did. A soft glance out the netting that made their makeshift window. Her shifting silhouette atop one of the many drifting sand dunes against the night sky. Her body blotched and chunked out a portion of the rising moon. He knew it was her way of saying goodbye, why else would she give her position away. He had, after all, shown her better than that. JorKang smiled. A good image he thought, one that was defiant and proud and showed endurance. One that brought to mind a physical embodiment of the Ghi'Naari. The soft smile grew into a chuckle and tears brimmed on the edges of his bottom eye lids. "Must've gotten mint oil in my eyes." He whispered as he wiped them away with his forearm. He spoke even softly now, barely even a whisper, inaudible against the night winds. "My daughter is coming for you, Requiem. Let's see you try to stop her." A short pause. "Enjoy your freedom, Kia'Dae." Dark Mage, portal, shadow Lance & rage Edited by Kilik, Jan 4 2017, 07:53 PM.
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| Classix | Jan 1 2017, 04:55 PM Post #2 |
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*cough* *reads* on its way to be a complete/borderline renowned. Personality is displayed in the writing. There is enough history to be made up on ones own, her upbringing, how she learned darkmagic, ect. There is a description, lacking the word RED of course. You forgot your own eye color. You forgot to wear clothes. (wont be a virgin long then) You forgot your age. |
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| Kilik | Jan 1 2017, 05:59 PM Post #3 |
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Keep it short, but embellish
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In my defense, first person writing is a weak point that I need to improve. Age is in there. 5 years old when she runneth away. 10 years has passed. Who says I can't rp naked? I suppose I'll fix that. No eye color? Damn. Thanks Classix, will fix |
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| Raphael | Jan 2 2017, 09:02 AM Post #4 |
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"When you can't make them see the light, make them feel the heat.""
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The smell of teen spirit is strong with this one. The show of supreme self confidence, the feeling of superiority to everyone else in the world, extremely judgemental... I can feel her rolling her eyes at all the adults in the room. She is everything that makes me want to wring teens necks. My desire to stop reading and give this fictional person an attitude adjustment made it hard to finish the profile. Not a bad thing, just means it's realistic. "won't and I can say I say many who didn't along the way." Probably mean say I saw. That whole sentence structure is a bit awkward, though. I know what you mean by it, but it could be clearer. |
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9:51 AM Jul 11