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Author Topic: Some writing samples.  (Read 671 times)

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Offline Slave2FantasyTopic starter

Some writing samples.
« on: June 04, 2014, 10:20:50 PM »
Hello there. These are just some writing samples so people know how I write. Alternatively, they could be the beginnings of a fun roleplay together.


There is no emotion, there is peace.

This test was meant for older students, but Rhia knew she was ready. Because she was to be the best. The room was dark. Her eyes could see nothing but the blue-white glow of her training saber. In her mind, she repeated the first tenant, over and over, like a mantra. She stood, with a serene visage, in a fighting stance; leg extended, the weapon a horizontal bar humming above her head, like a spear. Though her chosen specialization had been born of emotion, it was gone now. That was new. It had been hard to learn peace.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge

Blue eyes, stoic and soft all at once, closed. She heard the whir of the machinery, clear as day. The Force, indifferent and beautiful, poured into her consciousness. It outlined her surroundings. Possibilities branched among them, and slowly they merged into certainties. So much information at her fingertips, filling an empty cup. The saber gave low, throbbing sounds as it whipped through the air. Her center of gravity shifted as she jumped, swung her saber in an arc, and landed, silent, catlike, on her feet, only to repeat the process. Again and again, she flowed through this motion like water. Knowing. Waiting.

There is no passion, there is serenity

Red training bolts cut through the darkness, but Rhia had already seen them. A whirlwind of precision and agility, she deflected each, seeming to dance for a blind audience. Effortlessly her body twisted and molded to the future. The flurry was fast and unceasing, but calm did not lose its sway on her mind. She always felt calm, when she trained; when she was doing something. It was her life with which she struggled. Asceticism and discipline came unnaturally to her. Passion was her natural state. There is no room for my desires. All but one. Desperately she cleared her mind. That line of thought would ruin her peace.

There is no death, there is the Force.

Rhia sprung into action as the bolts ceased, jumping, dancing, avoiding. Sensing the obstacles, flying from the walls in all directions, attempting to knock her down, or break her focus. A somersault morphed into a cartwheel. A frantic run up the face of a wall changed rapidly into a jump, flying through a narrow hole in the approaching obstacle with inches to spare. Then she felt a heavy impact in her side, sending her crashing to the floor. She cried out from the pain, thinking it may have cracked a rib.

The lights came on, and revealed the Master of Combat, standing over the exerted adolescent girl. Frustration flashed in her eyes, though she attempted to hide it quickly. It was difficult to hide such things from the Masters. Impossible, even.

“The force is not a tool, Initiate Rhia. You are a tool of the force.”

Another spike of frustration at his words. He smiled. “Passion is a difficult beast to conquer, young one. You must be empty of it.”

“Yes, Master Dior.” The girl stood, raising her saber once more, hearing the angry hiss as it extended once more. Determination showed itself within her every mannerism. Her voice was hard. “Again.”

Shaking his head, Master Dior cut the lights.


The Lady Minka Di Harkonen, perched atop a finely-bred horse, surveyed the bustling city her party currently waded through. The market district was as packed as one might imagine a trade-hub’s thoroughfare might be. Children flitted among the patrons, and only a few appeared to be urchins. Guards with a truncheon on one hip, and a sword the other, patrolled intermittently among the masses. Vendors competed with each other on the volume of their voices as well as their prices. Buildings of wood, and some stone, baked in the warm afternoon sun. In the distance, a blacksmith’s hammer rang, and the smell of fish, wafting in from the adjacent docks, mingled with the tantalizing scent of freshly baked pastries. On the horizon, Castle Ladder loomed. A lovely city, to be sure. It was good to know that prosperity had touched this place.

At her back, a number of trade-carts ambled along the neatly-kept cobblestone path, and a number of grizzled mercenaries guarded them. Each of them was stocked with fruit and spices from the southern nations, and ore from her own kingdom of Valencia. Bought and paid for not by her own house, but by the Order of the Arcane Sisterhood themselves. Unconsciously her hand went to the ring hung on a chain around her neck, hidden between her breasts. It was meant to mark her as a Sorceress. However, the Order was not as loved as they once had been, centuries ago. It behooved her to keep her title to herself.

At a mere twenty-two years of age, Minka was fresh out of the academy. Just as well, as no one in political circles would know her for the sorceress she truly was. Her father, a powerful Lord in Valencia, was still angered with her for doing the Order’s business instead of returning home; despite House Harkonens’ longstanding friendliness with the Order. I couldn’t go back… Not yet. Her task here was far too important to abandon, and she was the only one with sufficient anonymity to pull it off. Minka had no love for house Laddermoor, however, and though she would offer honeyed words, she sought to wheedle one of their possessions from their hands.

It wasn’t long before they had arrived at the castle gates. “Ho, Guard. I am Lady Minka Harkonen, and I have come bearing gifts for the Lord of this House.”

There was some fuss, due to her families’ name, and the mercenaries. But everyone wishes for gifts, and so their questions were not too prying. It was known that the nobles of Valencia were attempting to further establish trade with the southern nations. The tension, however, was still present, and they were made to wait in line with the rest of those waiting for the king. While they waited, they were stuck outside, amid the traffic coming in and out. Armed guards, more heavily armored than those on the street, mingled. Her eyes went to the fighting yards, where a group of men trained in the sword. Minka sighed, wishing she had a confidant to confide in during this trip. Perhaps it is better that only the Order and me knows my true intentions.

STARBOUND LOVERS (Original Science Fiction)

The Crewmembers of the Galileo project were chosen for two reasons. The first was obviously their technical, physical, and intellectual prowess. This was necessary to ensure the success of their mission. The second criterion was that the crewmembers be the least disagreeable to investing nations political constituents. Without this second criterion, the funding could never be sustained to keep the project afloat, and humanity would be defenseless against the unknown threats presented by any extraterrestrial beings that created or currently use the IWN. (Interstellar Wormhole Network) The first node which we discovered, located just beyond the outermost of our humble planets, has been dubbed ‘Stargate Alpha.’

The Voyager spacecraft is the most advanced piece of human technology ever built. It is equipped with weapons designed for spacecraft to spacecraft combat as well as orbital bombardment. It possesses many exploratory and military probes, an atmospheric shuttle, and the finest instrumentation money can buy. With the aid of fuel resupply stations placed by unmanned craft among the star systems blessed with a stargate, it is capable of long-term exploration. We have no way to communicate with these stations, and thusly, no way to determine their survival in the event that they came across hostile aliens. In the event that hostiles are discovered, five of the chosen crew are military officers, and are trained in the use of the advanced new weaponry the Galileo project created. However, they have been ordered to avoid such engagements if at all possible. The last thing our beleaguered planet needs is a war with a strange and powerful technological species.

Hanging above the heads of our heroes, despite all the talk of possible threats, is the hope of finding a new planet, where the deteriorating effects of carbon dioxide emissions and overpopulation have not yet taken hold. It is this hope that may be behind Cassie Fishers’ dazzling smile at the Voyager’s send off party in San Diego, California yesterday. Miss Fisher had words of naught but optimism for my colleagues and me. If you believe in god, pray that she is right. If not, then you can only hope fervently.

-David Webber, NY Times. 2155 AD. 12 hours prior to launch.

~   *   ~   *   ~   *   ~

July 10, 2155 (2 days to launch, ETA 4 days to Stargate Alpha)

Her feet already ached from the heels. The cameras flashed incessantly, capturing every graceful movement of her waltz with none other than Derrick H. Waldorf, the famed fighter pilot ace, who had protected the earth-to-orbit cargo launchers in the Atlantic from international terrorist attack for the almost four decade span they had been in operation. It was as if they had plucked him right from the propaganda posters. He was as handsome as he was charismatic. The cameras made her terribly nervous, even though she had been enduring them for almost two years now. A winning smile had glued itself to her face the moment she stepped from the limo, and it remained there still. But this was different. Tonight was special.

A massive countdown clock overlooked the dais presiding over the grand ballroom. It must be the size of Texas. Men and women dressed in finery intermingled with members of the press, and high ranking military officials conversed in quiet tones with Earth Defense Initiative bureaucrats.

“You are as lovely as they say. I wish you the best of luck in space, Miss Fisher. The Germans are as proud as your American countrymen.”

It felt artificial, like politics. “Thank you captain. But I’m only a doctor. It is the others…”

“I read that you are an EVA specialist also, so not only a doctor, I think.”

Cassandra smiled graciously, in accordance with the stiff politeness that seemed to accompany such events. “My contributions pale compared to yours, captain.”

“I think not. Whoever these bastards may be, they may mean us harm. It is a different war you fight.”

The thought made her afraid, and she desperately tried to hide the feeling from her face. She was never afraid in space. That was where she belonged. Here, the stakes were so painfully obvious. “I will do everything in my power to ensure our survival. We could not do what we aim to do without people like you.”

They parted at that, and Cassie was finally free to survey the room for her crewmates. She cut a curvaceous figure in her evening gown, a beautiful and clinging raiment of light blue silk; to go with her eyes, the stylist had said. She ran a hand through her flowing golden tresses, and let her full lips curve into a smile when she saw her crew laughing and drinking in a corner. Drafted right out of college only three years ago, they were all young and energetic. Solemn resolve had claimed some, but not most.

“The media darling returns!”

“Shut up and give me a glass of that champagne, Nicolai.” Among more familiar company, her southern accent came to the fore. “Thanks for leaving poor old me to face the wolves all by myself.”

They were fifteen in all. The bold explorers, sent to map the heavens. Or so the media had christened them. To find earth-like worlds was their mission, and their vehicle was the Interstellar wormhole network they had discovered in the 2140’s. “I don’t know why you bother. You NASA types never learned how to hold your booze.” That was Aramake, JAXA’s contribution to the Galileo Project. His English had improved greatly in their two years together, and he soon proved to be a jolly companion.

“I need a drink. I know we are leaving soon, so I understand; but all this attention makes me feel awkward.” She sank heavily into one of the seats beside him and took a long pull from the champagne flute. The chair might have been the living room couch in her apartment. “I’m not cut out for this, Aramake.”

“It will be over soon. We are destined for the stars.” They shared a smile, before he looked up and whispered to her “Beware, Cassie-chan, one of our popular military crewmates approaches.”

She straightened for the cameras.

Offline Slave2FantasyTopic starter

Re: Some writing samples.
« Reply #1 on: June 05, 2014, 10:57:46 PM »
Here is another!

A STEAMPUNK ROMANCE (Original deiselpunk)

The double glass of scotch formed beads of condensation on its sides. If you looked closely enough, you could see the pungent liquor vibrate from the engines; concentric circles bouncing back and forth from within their circular cage. He could feel that same hum from beneath his boots, and reflected in the half empty bottle on the battered table. He looked up from beneath the curved brim of his hat, looking at the lovely pilot across from him. Evidently the zeppelin had room for her kind. Sucking heavily, he inhaled mellow cigarette smoke. Lungs unused to such strain complained, feeling scratchy. Were it not for the sounds of their vessel he would have heard the paper crackle. For a moment, he held the smoke in, before expelling it with a certain exasperation. He put out the spent stub in the crowded ashtray.

“What’s the matter with you?” Only a woman’s voice could be calming with such military efficiency. She was not military though. Perhaps she used to be.

He grinned, and retorted sarcastically. “I hate flying.”

She laughed the raucous laugh of the pariah. She must have picked it up among the gunrunners, and other types of questionable legality that she doubtless consorted with. “Then what are you doing here? Thanks for the drink, anyway.”

“I needed someone to talk to, take my mind off things. My brother was in the southern colonies. I’m investigating a message he sent to me. Came in the same ship as the news.”

“Dirty business, that.” The blonde in question had an urchin's variant of a British accent that he couldn't help but be charmed by. She referred to the event vaguely. It was too soon to mention it directly. It harbored the same vulgarity as an obscenity. “He make it?”

He looked away. “I don’t know.”

Her pretty blue eyes softened briefly, before returning to hardened mirth. It was enough for an astute man to catch her intention. In her circles sympathy was perhaps as vulgar as an obscenity. The silence stretched for a moment. It was a kind of eulogy that they both sensed. “He’s a resourceful guy. And he might have had friends in the right places. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made it.”

“You might die first, the way you smoke.”

He smirked again, trying to be roguish for her benefit. “I don’t smoke.”

“Do you mind if I have one?” The final cigarette rattled in the box as he tossed it to her. “Ah, the last one hmm? I guess I believe you then. Smokers don't give up the last one.” The pilot’s eyes twinkled as she leaned in, allowing him to light it for her. God, but she was a gorgeous woman. She took a drag on her smoke and drink, respectively. “Thanks.”