Character Creation Chain

[Star Girl]

Psychic Detective - Kratz Frannanigan

‘Great Thief Goodran Koop strikes again!’ Read the newspaper headline, as Clover Doyle threw it down on the table.
“Kratz!” She shouted, “Koop’s stolen again. While we’re meant to be catching him!”
Frannanigan sat in his tall chair stooping his head as always as his messy grey hair lay flat on his face. His hands were fixed together softly as he faced the window, sunlight shining through.
“Kratz! Are you listening to me?” Clover frowned. “What are you going to do?”
“Clover, Clover, Clover… my girl you worry too much. I anticipated Koop’s actions to the mark. He is as ever easy to read you know.” He spun around in his chair, standing and pacing against the window restless in his thoughts.
“But you didn’t stop him.” Clover challenged.
“It is necessary for a much more elaborate plan to catch this crook.” He calmly replied.
“Excuse me?”
“I know where he’ll go next. Just as the papers say, I am the best Psychic detective in England no one else will catch him but me.”
“You’re the only so called Psychic Detective, Kratz, and you aren’t even Psychic!”
“Ahhhh but the papers say I am, and that’s what counts my dear!” He said wildly, facing into the young girls face. “Now take your coat, we must be out!”
“Out? But why? Where?”
“We’ve got a crook to catch, and I know exactly how to do it!”



>Dove May

 

[My Atomic Tales]

>Dove May

"Are you done?"

The man in the white suit spoke in a clipped manner which brought to mind ancient schoolmasters, their clothes as dusty as their brains.

Dove nodded. "For now," she said, sheathing her sword. Her left hand lingered over the holster hanging from her hip, however, something which did not go unnoticed.

"And what about me?" enquired the man, clasping pristine fingers in front of a pristine suit. "Do you intend to..." His lips curled in a sneer. "...slaughter me?"

Dove shrugged. "Depends," she said, her face guiless and blank.

A spark of hope appeared in the man's eyes. "Money? Is that what you want? I have plenty. I can make you rich beyone your wildest dreams..."

Dove shrugged again. It had become a habit. "What about the Exarch?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

The man in the white suit laughed. "Him?" he crowed. "He's already dead. Why do you even - "

The shot seemed loud in the office, probably because there was so little ornamentation to cushion the sound. Dove looked at the corpse, something approaching sorrow marring her pristine features.

"Wrong answer," she murmured, turning to leave. She'd have to fight her way back down the Citadel, but that didn't bother her anymore. Blood was demanded, and blood she would exact...


>Xarytus Harrow.

 

[Talysia]

Xarytus Harrow

The world held no more interest for Xarytus. After just the first visit across the border into that dark land, he yearned for it. The beasts there were deadly, seeking to drag him into their undying, hateful company. The spectres were worse, taking the shapes of people he had known, and then trying to plunge their claws into his heart.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

There was no more challenge left for him here. The strongest of his enemies were little more than rust on his sword, and the life of an assassin was driving him crazy. Life was so dull! No fight, no combat could stir his blood to wakefulness any more. It was like a living death.

He hefted a pack of provisions onto his back, settled his blade, and grinned. It was time to find a new challenge.

Ceridian Falstrey

 

[reiver33]

Ceridian Falstrey

I'm sorry, but a search for that name has returned zero results. Please check your spelling and try again.

"Expand the search outside Central Registry."

I'm sorry, but Central Registry contains all available information. To suggest otherwise casts doubt on the Ministry of Truth. Your de facto unpatriotic attitute has been noted.

"Access the secure archive. User name null, password Beria."

Processing. Please wait.

Processing. Please wait.

Information. Operative Ceridian Falstrey was terminated by executive order on twenty-two slash six. All files are now held by the Department of Internal Security, hard copy only.

"Reactivate file. Populate data cluster with information from operative file two-two-one-five-slash-beta and delete original. Purge and re-initialise."

Confirmed. Next subject?

"Sarah Lipski."

 

[Talysia]

Sarah Lipski

Ever since the Triani had arrived on her world, the cost of living had risen. Formerly peaceful towns were now vastly overpopulated by these refugees, who had bought residency there with promises of new technology, and there was ill-feeling brewing amongst the locals. However, with the government on the Triani's side, it was becoming more and more difficult to live.

Sarah Lipski, a refugee from old Terra herself, had been shocked when the government issued perhaps their most controversial declaration: that in order to comfortably accommodate both the residents and the Triani, then each household had to reduce their number by one. That would reduce the amount of mouths to feed, as well as greatly improve the quality of life on the beleaguered planet. It didn't matter where these people went, as long as they went.

When Sarah saw the first government-sponsored ships, ready to take such 'volunteers' offworld, something inside her snapped. She signed her name as the person 'volunteering' to leave her household, said goodbye to her children, and packed a few special belongings. This is only temporary, she told herself. I'll be back someday, and when I do, things will change.

Melanie Blackwater

 

[My Atomic Tales]

Melanie Blackwater

"It wasn't supposed to end like this." The old man exhaled a long stream of smoke, as grey as his skin, before crushing the cigarette against the side of his chair. "No-one was supposed to die..."

Melanie watched a few stray embers float towards the floor, almost mesmerised by the sight. Then she drew her attention back to the present. "Casualties of war," she replied calmly, some might say cruelly. "Wrong place at the wrong time. You know the story. You've written a few chapters of it yourself."

The old man grimaced, her words an unwelcome reminder of the past. "I was never as careless as you," he grated.

Melanie smiled, her teeth glinting coldly in the half-light. "No?" she challenged. "I think there are quite a few orphans who would take issue with that statement." She stood up, brushing the creases from her uniform and striding to the door. Before reaching for the handle, however, she turned back towards the man in the wheelchair, stranded alone in this room as much by his thoughts as by his body. "We're fighting for a new order," she said quietly, in a tone which might have hinted at compassion were she at all capable of such an emotion. "People are going to die. You really shouldn't take such things to heart."

After she'd gone, the old man stared at the wall, as he done every day for millennia. Dear Melanie, he thought. So sure. So righteous. So dangerous. He pressed a button on the side of his wheelchair, and a holoform appeared in the air before him.

"Sir?" said the tinny voice.

"Agent Twelve," said the old man. "She's become a liability. You know what to do."

The holoform bowed low and then blinked from sight.

Outside, in the carpark, Melanie stood for a moment, enjoying the sun on her face and the slight breeze ruffling her hair. Today was going to be a good day. She had a feeling in her bones.



> Lucien LeStrade

 

[Menion]

Life unknown to the masses this well known assassin has gone down the ages as a faceless killer, people think it is the same man, others think it's the name that is passed on.
But he knows... oh how he knows.
How many has it been now? this week alone you have ended 8 lives, how many has it been in all the years of your faithfull service to the Ebony Councel?
Countless faces pass by in his mind.
"I do what I was destined to do" he thought
Destiny is that what you call it now? I seem to remember it being Vengeance and then Work. But destiny? thats new.
"Silence" he shouted in his own mind, realising what he had done, having a conversation with your own concience isn't that normal, he shook his head and wrapped his cloak around him tighter then stepped out into the cold winter street to do his next contract.

Basttian Arnwold

 

[cornelius]

He grinned at the reflection in the broken mirror. "Sharp, even to my standards." He picked up one of the shards, studied the jagged edges.
"You ready, kid?" Harry the Mule. He sounded more like a dog coughing up a cat coughing up a hairball. But his fist packed quite a punch. Like the kick of a mule.
"Ready as I ever was, Harry." He rolled his shoulders, looked one last time at the mirror. "Prettyboy" , they called him. Only those who were mauled down by his fists would hear his true name, the last name they would hear before the last punch as he hissed in their ears. "Basttian Arnworld. See you on the other side"

Budrugil Mournhand

 

[My Atomic Tales]

Budrugil Mournhand

The Elves were attacking.

Budrugil gripped his spear tighter, his knuckles white beneath the rotten cotton gloves he wore.

Scum, he thought. Highborn scum. Because I was born a Goblin they think I have no right to exist? His face convulsed in a snarl, his dark red eyes fiery suns beneath his helm. We'll show 'em. This world wasn't created just for them.

A panicked flute on a dragonbone horn from a commander further down the line indicated imminent engagement, and Budrugil checked the sword at his side. A spear was fine enough for the initial skirmish, but bitter experience had taught him that his only true friend was a blade in a scabbard.

The horn sounded again, more assured this time, and he rushed forward with the rest of his comrades.

As he saw the tall figures advance towards him, almost shining in their purity, three thoughts kept him striding onward towards certain death. For life, for family, for Mordor!




>Gregor the Beggar.

 

[Talysia]

Gregor the Beggar

Notoriety was such a troublesome thing. He'd had to change his outfit twice this past week, just to avoid being noticed. That was one of the burdens of being such a skilled thief: your livelihood largely depended on getting away from the scene without being spotted. One could hardly do that if people were pointing at him in the street, saying, "Look, it's Gregor the Beggar! Hide your purses, or he'll have them away!"

Now, wrapped in the filthiest rags he could find, and with bloodied cloth over his eyes, he sat with his back against the wall of the Crown tavern, waiting for his target. Rumour had it that a rich merchant was here, celebrating his good fortune at being granted a royal appointment. Apparently, he had a bodyguard with him, but that problem could be easily overcome. After all, this bodyguard was one of Gregor's good friends - or at the very least, he was paid well to be.

Gregor smiled and shifted his grip on the wooden bowl that he was using to beg. Maybe his luck would change now.

Felstar Reed

 

[Brev]

She watched the planetary alignment, poised with the rest of the herd, until the moment of eclipse. The huge bright disc of Telia, partially obscured by the dark mass of Delnomn, like a giant eyeball in the sky. The 'eye' would look from left to right, as if observing every inch of Tallon's rich lands, and for the three days of the eclipse, there would be revelry.
“Ready Felstar?” The voice next to her was shouted, straining to be heard above the impatient stamping of a thousand fore hooves.
Then, it was time, and the herd sprung into motion, running, dancing, leaping.
The Drubech, or Horsemen of Tallon as they were known, had conquered galaxies and tamed stars, but for three days of wild abandon they would remember their ancestors and cavort for the great eye.
For Felstar Reed though it was a time of sorrow. A time where she was forced to remember the awkwardly set bones in her hind leg, and the hard lessons of her youthful impetuousness.


Isidore Thomas

 

[Talysia]

Isidore Thomas

The first time Isidore had seen the sun was on his thirteenth birthday. Having been a virtual prisoner previously, kept from the eyes of the world lest they discover his family's secret, he was now eager to discover the pleasures and pains he had been denied.

Of course, his family could no longer object. He had fully accepted his birthright, and all the necessary sacrifices that went with it. Little things, like humanity. It was a small price to pay. No-one could stop him now.

No-one, except that small little voice, struggling to be heard in the depths of his mind. The small remnant of a former life.

Galatea Thessalionn

 

[Challah Rajni]

Galatea Thessalionn

A young boy and a little girl sat in a golden field under the afternoon sky--thin blue clouds drifted over, and the sky was lit by a distant blue star and tinted red by the giant planet sitting so very near; one could feel the world ever turning from this very spot. The boy was hard at work with a beautiful pen on an even more beautiful handmade book.

The little girl dipped her pen in rainbow ink; with the flick of a wrist, the ink turned as red and black as the giant planet. She stopped; she looked up at the clouds, all of them. Her skin was very dark, and her eyes were as blue as the clouds. Everything about her betrayed tenderness, but she herself was calm and still as the woman standing behind her.

"Gally, is this right?" the little girl asked; she opened a page of her book, revealing beautifully handwritten text and an even more beautiful drawing of the sky textured into the page.

"Good. You're learning, but your phrasing is just a bit off. Come back to that passage later," said Gally.

Gally seemed to phase in and out of the world, as if perpetually caught in mist. Her dress was unassuming and her cloak and hood white and modest. She leaned forward, closer to the girl. A black braid slipped out over her shoulder and the little girl's. The girl looked back at Gally. The great lines around Gally's eyes hinted at her coming smile. Everything in her movements was glacial: she had thought about this sort of smile and created it many millions of times; it was practiced, and studied infinitely, and now, it was just a little joy of a master at play. It instantly made the little girl a little girl again.

Indeed, Gally's smile was a beauty gentle enough to obliterate old warriors.

The boy stopped writing and looked into the fields for a long time. He stood up and said hello to an empty space in front of him. The boy's sense of time had always been a bit... off.

Gally loved that about him.

Minutes later, a young man dressed as a black prince marched up to her. He was the only other person on that world. He had come a long way. He drew a sword.

Gally became more solid. She looked at him with childlike curiosity through very, very old gray eyes.

"Galatea Thessalionn... She who spent the equivalent of two of my people's lifetimes writing a single tale. She who watched the galaxy become what it is now, and she who will see it through to the end. I am an evil man; my fate is sealed. But you have shown me something beautiful before the sun sets on my life. I wish I could speak for all of the galaxy, but I am just one man. I have come to say this one thing. Thank you. I love you."

The prince put his sword into the ground and took one book out of a pouch, placed in on the ground next to the sword, knelt, bowed his head to the dirt, and kissed the book.

The little boy waved goodbye. Before Gally could bring the man to his feet and embrace him. He had already turned away and marched off, hiding the tears in his eyes.

***
The little boy looked at the stars for a long time after that. He pointed just as a streak of light zoomed over.

Gally picked up the old book. The title: The Breaking of Shri Vin the 90th.

Shri Vin the 90th

 

[J Riff]

Shri Vin the 90th

Overlord of the entire Kadytixion solar system of insectoid planets, Shri Vin rules with an iron claw over quadrillions of bugs.
The 90th King in a chain of identical giant Mantises, Shri Vin is virtually indistinguishable from the previous eighty-nine overlords of Katyixion descent. and he often sits for years at a time without issuing so much as a single command to his multitudinous subjects.
The perfected life-style of the highly-structured denizens of the entire system leave Shri Vin with virtually nothing to do. He merely sits on a huge throne of chitin, occasionally flicking a mandible at underlings, though no one is really sure why anymore.
The concept of boredom is alien to the Katytixions, else all would have perished aeons ago from sheer inertia.
Now, however, the humans had come, and an aeons-old prophecy was about to be fulfilled. Shri Vin consulted the ancient texts, and the message was clear:
Death to the pink things!

Chadwick Von Tumult

 

[Heck Tate]

Chadwick Von Tumult Sorry for length, got carried away. It was fun and I'm trying to put off things I need to do so win win, right?

A balding, overweight man who was constantly sweating through his expensive tailored suits, Chadwick was not cut out for the life of politics his father had forced him into. Though their family was one of Germany's oldest and noblest, Chad really only wanted to take care of animals.

His mother had laughed in his face when, at the tender age of 32, he had finally summed up the courage required to tell her his desires. "It's a little late for that, Chad, darling. You should have said something earlier. You must be more decisive. Stand up for yourself. Now go and get ready for the party, the Minister of Foreign Affairs will be attending."

Defeated, Chad ran to the one place he knew he could be alone with his thoughts, his kennels. He had always been happiest when he could escape the public eye and spend some time with the world class rottweilers he had trained himself.

Often he wondered how his brother Sedgewick would have handled Chad's life. He was certainly a more inspirational figure than Chad, determined to make his mark on the world. He was better with words than the hesitantly truthful Chadwick who never meant to offend but somehow always did. All that was before Sedge had caught the cold that killed him. Selfish as he knew it was, Chad thought that a part of him had died with his brother that day.

Playing idly with his best friends, Chad thought of the happy years he had spent with his brother. They had both been happy then. Sedge was a born leader just waiting for his chance at power, while Chad was free to pursue his own interests. He would never tell anyone else, but he sometimes wondered if the world had not dodged a bullet by killing his brother. He had sometimes been so commanding and such a good speaker that people found themselves agreeing with whatever he said. And Sedge knew no moderation in the pursuit of his goals. He could be so...

Chad struggled for a moment to find the word that best fit.

Decisive!

The exact thing that Chad himself was not. His parents had made all his decisions for him since Sedge's death. Today he would make one for himself.

Chadwick beckoned to his dogs to follow as he ran to the stables and saddled Schnell, his best bred horse. He had trained the family's horses as well as he had the dogs, and Schnell gave a whinny of delight at the opportunity to stretch his legs. With his dogs behind him, Chadwick Von Tumult rode off into the woods behind his family's estate, and never again thought of politics or the superficial concerns of man.

Tanto Chipotle

 

[Menion]

Aaaah, now that was a good beer. Smaking his lips Tanto hopped of the bar stool and began to make his way over to the door, swaying from side to side and stumbling every now and then.
"Tanto" shouted one of the hobbits still at the bar "back again tomorrow?" Tanto leaned against the wall "hmmmm... oh, yeah I'll beck temorrow..." Tanto fell through the door to the laughs of the customers still inside.

Picking himself up he began to make his way home singing his favorite walking song.
"Chipotle, Chipotle
Chipotle bala way hey
Chibottle chibottle
chibottle wala na da"

Amadeus Bing

 

[Interference]

"Sit, stranger, sit and rest yer heels. Been travellin' far? Travellin' long? Sit here by the fire."

She patted the back of the chair with a casual ease as she walked over to the window and peered out, ignoring the stains and debris of years, to watch her husband wrangle my horse.

"I just came in from Laraquai Northlight," I told her as I sat.

Her back stiffened, but she faced me and smiled.

"I been there once or twice. You want coffee? Tea? Sintuice?"

"Tea, please. Sintuice gives me headaches."

She opened the nook and took out a bottle of tea and poured two glasses.

"I buried my friend," I continued.

"Sure hope he was a dead'un then," she smiled and sat across the open fire from me in a comfy chair.

"Pretty dead," I smiled back. "Followed his missus to the grave."

Her head tilted and her eyes seemed to focus for a moment, very clearly.

"Tragic."

"Yeah," I agreed, returning her smile. "His wife got herself snared. Their kid must've wandered off with the dog, looking for help."

"They ok?" she drawled.

"Hardly likely."

We sipped our teas respectfully.

"That's a pretty horse you have," she said after a while.

"It's an Amadeus."

There was no hiding her reaction this time. She knew the name. Everyone knew the name. That meant nothing. I could guess what was in her mind, but that meant nothing, either.

Amadeus Bing
Done everything
Been everything
Seen Everything
Amadeus Bing
Knows everything
That's why we sing his name.

She had to ask.

"Is it you?" and her eyes flickered between terror and bravado.

*****

It was in all the papers, all the 'casts, all the gossip was about that cellar and the bones they found there, a child's bones, maybe a dog as well. I think there was one line somewhere in all of that coverage that asked who killed the old man and his wife. One line that didn't seem to know it had to have been Bing.


Organic Farnsworth

 

[J Riff]

Organic Farnsworth

The legendary ghost-hillbilly of Blechmore Tarn - Organic Farnsworth - rumored to have never bathed, is encrusted, overgrown with vegetative life-forms of a dubious nature.
Lurking in ditches, where he resembles a pile of moldering compost, Farnsworth springs forth and devours what he calls 'the meat creatures'- preferring young children for breakfast, and plump jolly milkmaids for din-dins.
Hundreds of people have disappeared from the nearby town of Blechmore, and the entire county lives in fear of the Veg-monster that is Organic Farnsworth. A comic book series and action-figures of Farnsworth are available at most stores in the area. Though humble and self-effacing, even while eating, Farnsworth is slowly gaining super-villian status.

Bentley Cadwalloper

 

[Interference]

Bentley Cadwalloper

Strangely, Bentley (or "Bent" to his closest friends) has never walloped a cad in his life. On investigating his family name, he discovered that it was originally spelt "Card Well Upper" and this, to him and those who call him Bent, made much more sense. He was a frequent well-upper and when he'd upped a well, he always left his card.

Upping wells is, of course, essential before hill steeping, as any flagranter will tell you.

Flagrant Morris

 

[tnctx02]

Morris is a retired Ranger. They are charged with investigating interstellar criminal activities wherever it may happen in the Sol system. Morris was a good Ranger and still helps out on occasion when help outside the law is required. He is a tough and experienced soul that never leaves anything to chance. His chiseled face is worn and tired looking from years of worry and fighting. But his body is still tall and strong. He wears a pistol at mid thigh and a knife opposite from it.

Jared Parks