abbeyvie
Legend
Hello! I decided to start writing a random collection of character introductions. I often write these, and I’m in love with them. I don’t usually write from my own characters though. I write from the minds of different ones. Males, females, or worms, I like to write a variation of perspectives. I find it easier to write from the view of another then myself. Most of my original situations comes from my own RP, but have been implemented into another’s sight. Please enjoy my collections of writings. I’ll update as I please and I might take character requests later on. (Only issue is you might not see your character acting or thinking that way.) Thanks!
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Hatred of Children
I despise children. Their stubby bodies, and immature minds wish to drive me mad. Booger-covered fingers, ragged clothes, and their pure ignorance of life are unacceptable. Always crying, never understanding how we adults must work and strive through life. When I was a child, once I grew out of my infant years I had to grow up. There was no one there for me to cry on.
Late in the evenin’ last week in the Wanderer, I was drinkin’ my sorrows away. A black-robed pyromancer walked in, followed by a red-eyed daughter around the age of five. She was pouting by Jishrim’s foolery, I’d tell ya. She was whimpering somethin’ to her father, somethin’ about a ‘Blankie’ and her mum. If I were ‘er father, she be out on the streets already. When I was around that age I was sent off to an old blacksmith to start an apprenticeship. Parents believed it was best to start young, when I ain’t weak. Now back to this little girl. She was in tears by the time I finished my third drink. Sobbing ‘Daddy’ over and over again, I couldn’t care less ‘bout what she did. Her father needed to teach her that lesson. Kid needs to grow up. Learn to be strong, ‘ else their useless.
~Eliladan Ocil, male, blacksmith
~Bit more about Eliadan:
Elidana Ocil is an old blacksmith around the age of 40. He has scars of burns spread across the majority of his hands, since he has been a blacksmith for 35 years. He began training to become one at the age of 5 as an apprentice. He has never experienced loving parents, nor does he believe that children need ‘em. He likes his taste in multiple women, and can’t manage a relationship for more than a few weeks. He’s been told many times by these woman that he has a child, but he could care less. To phase out of his pains of loneliness as a child, he quaffs alcohols to fill his needs and fears.
Trait: Loneliness, aggressive
Situation: A crying child, remembering what he did. (He did nothing.)
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Torment
He howls in pain as I laugh at his torment. Blood covers the man’s lips from his leaking scar slashed from his eye. Hahaha.. what a sport. I am so calm, relaxed. Lighting a match, I prepare to scorch the balls of his feet. I laugh often, humming my special tune. Beautiful! Marvelous! He suffers!! The piercing scream from the young blue-eyed enemy is music to my ears. The Inquisition must have their information.. Hehehe.. humm…hoo.. But.. What does my family need? Masters will never want them, r-r-ight? I love Basil … Arianna. What would they think of my obsession? … They would reject me… I don’t want them to reject me… I am frightened… I am comfortable with the torment of my prisoners, but I know they won’t be happy. The screaming of my captives, I will always enjoy. I must hide.. I must hide my passion.. Hehehahehehhooohe… hehehehehe.. humm..
~Emin'u Sephyn Marnxan, female Nakat, butcher
Trait: Insanity/Fear
Situation: Torturing a man for the Inquisition
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Curiosity
Strange. It cannot understand why humans, elves, and dwarves smile at each other. It wanders through the bazaar. Cloth tents with different arrangements of colors to cover their shops. It is curious. They are loud with their voices, yet can be quiet with their feet? It clanks as it walks through the sandy paths. A small child stares at it. It imagines how that child might grow. A child grows in size and personality. It grows in rust and knowledge. Fascinating. It glances at the bazaar’s layout. How efficient is the set-up? It wants to help. It wants to learn. The bazaar’s shops are laid out in a circle. The food supplies to the northern right, the garments to the northern left, the weaponry to the southern right, and the rest to the southern left. It wants to learn. It stomps to learn and discover more. It is curious.
~Vorar-Elem Polvur
Trait: Apathetic/curious/internally motivated
Situation: Wandering through a bazaar
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Fear of Falsehood
Reelru
Fear consumes my mind. My heart races. Everyone hates me. Everyone despises each individual breath I take. I bear a scar. A scar across my eye that hides beneath a ragged hood attached to threadbare cloth. I must move forward. I must keep moving. My feet are blistered from walking across Port Silver's hot stoned paths. My underarms soaked and my breaths ragged. I halt the slow slide of my body's movement from a shout.
"Hey! You girl!" a man, carrying a large cane, shouts, "Come over here! Now!"
Noo.. I must flee. I do not speak with possible threats.
Although my body is dying, I began to slowly retreat from the man. His pure anger released across his face. He chases me, his legs faster then mine. He catches me, and begins swinging his large cane at me. I fall in my own blood pool.
Everyone hates me.
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Marcus Helix
A beautiful day to stroll through town, I suppose. On days like these Jax likes to fill me with my dose of luck. I smirk, the sun shining across my face.
A large crowd gathered in a circle catches my eye. Jax? What have you gifted me today? I approach, what appears to be my next loot.
A man, carrying a large cane, cradles the head of an unconscious girl. Her right eye scarred with what seems to be blade marks. What am I to do with this? A girl, a weak feeble girl.
"All I asked was for her to come over and receive her letter," whispered the man with the cane, "She screamed and try to walk away, when she collapsed."
A weak minded girl it seems. Manipulation. I could act as her brother, then snatch her away to the gambling hall. She could be used. I could gain her trust, and get what I want, her will to fight. Ha.
"Lord," I sound heroic, "that is my sister. Ma sent me looking for her. I need to take her home. She be a mad one, I tell ya, but she be Ma's favorite."
"Ah," the man steps away from this girl. I approach her. Scooping her up, my scheme begins to play. Ha!
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Love Illusion
My heart was broken. She had stabbed me multiple times. My heart, yet broken, still beats for her. My true love that was breath taking, my everything was she. Within the Merry Mead, share I my tale of romance to a fellow nearby. He was my friend, yet he was my obstacle. Friends are my cages that I cannot escape. They make me come to a standstill. Stop!
“You, friend, are a weak man,” whispers my friend.
“I am not,” I sob.
“Limadan, then why do you whimper over such an ugly wench?!”
I lay my head down on the wooden table. My love, my sweet love, was beautiful. Sallana could not have made such a beautiful woman. My sweet darling was a poison. A killer of hearts, her beauty was all an illusion.
Character: Limadan
Trait: Depressed(Depressing)
Situation: Talking to someone about love and friendship
