Character profile

Just a character profile :) 



Blair:



PURSUEs the goal.
Tags:
9' Purposes.
To get rid of the Uniformed.
Methods.
Follows leader so-to-speak, until she realizes that that doesn't work.
Evaluations.
Gets depressed until someone snaps her out of it, she tries to fight back also.
Back story:
Blair was born in Lotck. Batric took over when she was five. Her parents were exempt from the Drafting because they were already over age. They had Bethel when Blair was 11. At age 13, Blair's parents were taken by the Uniformed. Blair had no idea why and struggled along on her own, trying to work enough so that Bethel is fed.

Making an executive decission ;)

So, I have decided that the Zealous one will be continued, though I'm not sure if I will write it the same way I was... Have to think about it :) More coming soon!

Books...

So....... Posting. Um yeah, I have this problem:
I can't just work on one story at a time!!! So, I have decided to try harder to work on one story and finish it. Out of all the post, NOT including the one about the Mander, strawberries, or Emma,  which would you like me to continue?.... Oh, wait that leaves only two haha :) So, Indentity, or the one about The Zealous? Or Earegain? Please take this poll and vote! Thank you :)

Earagain.

Whyndred threw a punch with her gloved hand, still holding onto the hilt. It went left and only struck the Elder lightly on his cheek. Her hands ached but she took another blow, parrying it with both daggers this time. The two were locked, straining against each other. Her opponent suddenly grabbed her hilts, dropped his sword and pushed Whyndred Against the wall. She tangled with him for a few seconds then gave up. Thoroughly frustrated, she said.

“Okay, Melkaryn! You Win.”

Melkaryn unhanded the daggers.

“You should of known I was going to pull that trick on you.” He said.

Whyndred flexed her chain mail clad hand, giving him a raised brow.

“A trick? That was just a tactical maneuver.”

Melkaryn's gray robe swished as he picked up his sword from the ground. Nodding to Whyndred, he asked.

“Ready?”

She took up her fighting stance, her daggers held ether side of her body.

“Ready.”

They went at it, their blades flashed in the sunlight, over looking the town they were in. It was not a big

one but it was not a small one ether. Whyndred had lived there all her life, trained by Melkaryn. He was like a father to her. She was trying to master the art of two dagger fighting but still was advised to use a sword in real combat. Whyndred ducked a swing and had just enough time to jump over a low swipe to her feet. The townspeople were independent, seldom trusting any 'outsiders' as they called them. On this afternoon, most of the people were in there homes, resting from the weeks toil. But all the younger ones were practicing there weapon arts. The choice of weapon depended on how old they were. All around Melkaryn and Whyndred little skirmishes were going on. Dust was wide spread, kicked up by there efforts. Wooden buildings rose ether sides of them in the town square. The structures were not taller then three story's. The pupil spun around, trying to land a more enforced punch to the elder's cheek with her armored hand. He swayed ever so slightly and it missed. To the right of them, a slightly more organized group then the rest, were being trained by a tall, serious man named Revdar. He was the leader of the town and in charge of its defenses. He held a sword in his hand and was demonstrating a swing to his trainees, with a poll. He stepped back to let one of them try. One girl carrying a long dagger (for lack of strength to use a sword) stepped up. She swung it from the left and it was driven deep into the wood. Revdar nodded at her.

“Well done, Eldereth.”

She tried to pull the blade out but she could not get it. He got it for her. Another tried but was distracted by Melkaryn and Whyndred. There fight had intensified greatly. The younger was getting quicker, not falling so easily to his 'maneuvers'. The elder was moving forward as the maiden was being pushed back. Suddenly she ducked then rolled to one side, kicking out at him. It did not knock him over as she had desired but he staggered back, giving her enough time to regain her balance without further assaults. A ring of people had gathered to watch. Whyndred, though only sixteen, was a renown fighter. All speculated why she was so good, but most attributed it pure determination. It was more amazing was that she was trying to reach a point where she could use two daggers in real sword play.

Melkaryn smiled as he looked around at the people then he looked back at Whyndred.

“Need a rest?”

Whyndred was breathing heavily but she shook her head.

“No, you?”

He didn't answer, but kept his amused smile up. They went at it, hammering away. The onlookers shouted out advise to them, (but mostly to Whyndred) as they watched with bated breath.

“Punch him in the face!”

“Show 'um the old one, two!”

(all these remarks made by the younger ones of course).

Some how, Whyndred dropped one of her daggers then got a hold of the blade of the sword, her hand protected from its keen edge by her chain mail glove. Melkaryn was quick, he grabbed the hilt of her dagger, again. They pushed against each other. Whyndred was starting to back down but then,

“Revdar!”

A dark head, slightly taller then the rest, was making his way through the crowd.

“Revdar, you are needed on the walls, now!”

The two fighters let off, sensing the urgently in the young mans voice. He walked over to Revdar.

“What's wrong, Hunden?” asked Revdar.

The two of them had a whispered conversation then the leader turned to the crowd.

“Listen to me. All of you on the guard, get any gear you don't have with you and go to the steps of the walls and wait. The rest of you go to your homes and stay there. Go now!”

All went to do as he had bid. All except Melkaryn. He grabbed Hunden's arm.

“Hunden, what is going on?”

The young man's face was grim.

“Raiders. A hole punch of them march towards our gates.”

Melkaryn nodded.

“You mean the Helderen people.”

Hunden started to walk away.

“Raiders, Helderen. They're both the same.”

Whyndred stepped onto the small room. It was where she lived. It was a two room house in a long row of houses. Her leather boots thumped against the wooden floor as she walked to the mantle above the fire place. On it lay sword in its sheath. Her sword. She brushed a stay wisp of her long blond hair from her face. Halfheartedly, she picked it up. Her daggers had sheaths on her back. The sword went on her belt. She walked to the door, grabbed her bow and quiver then shut it as she stepped out. She walked down the street. All the windows of the houses were shut tight. The walls were ramparts, circling the city. Many of the men and women were standing, waiting for summons to get on the walls. Whyndred ran up the ramparts. Hunden, Revdar and several others were standing on the Ramparts. Hunden seemed to be searching there fighters with his dark eyes. He whispered in a confidential tone to her.

“Whyn, Where is the elder?”

She looked around.

“He does not live here. He slips away at odd times, you should know that.”

“But I told him that they were coming.

The Raiders were coming, marching in tight ranks, all wearing leather armor.

Whyndred thought a second then answered.

“He would not leave us need. Perhaps he has gone to bring help.”

His hand clenched and unclenched around his hilt. He seemed to calm a bit.

“Let us hope that, for we will need it.”

The Zealous (I don't know if this will be the title or not . . .)

Part one: Of Zealots and Mercenaries.

Chapter One.

I open my heavy eye lids then quickly shut them. Bright sunlight streams down on my face like a stern school master wanting me to answer a question. With a great effort, I open my eyes again, glaring at the window and the old bed sheets we use as curtains. Beneath the window, on the floor, my little sister Bethel is sleeping on a small bed made of old blankets. A golden retriever is sleeping beside her. I sit up, trying to rub some warmth into my legs. Its a Sunday: Day off, but I can't sleep in with the sun in my eyes. I watch threw half closed eyes at Bethel and The Dog, who's name is Daniel. He hears me sitting up and turns his shaggy head towards me. I hate animals, but couldn't reset Bethel's five-year-old eyes, begging to keep it. But its just another mouth that I can't feed. I pull my unraveled blanket closer around my thin shoulders. Daniel (or "The Dog" as I have called him ever since we found him three weeks ago) stands, accidentally stepping on Bethel. She doesn't stir. I watch her pale face sadly. She is so tired...
Daniel makes his way across the floor and leans his head in my lap. I grimace, repulsed The Dog's smell, but I don't have the heart to push him away. He looks as lonely as I feel. I am somewhat thankful for him. Last week, when I had absolutely nothing to feed Bethel with, the dog caught and brought back to us a squirrel. I can't imagine for the life of me where he had gotten it, but I didn't care as long as Bethel had something to eat. But today... I have nothing again except for a few crackers on the shelf. I stroke The Dog's head absentmindedly, as he begins to wag his long tail. I look down at him.
"What do you have to be sad about? That Bethel isn't awake to carry out your every wish?" I can't help smiling.
I stand up and walk over to a chest at the end of my bed. I open it. Me and Bethel's clothes are neatly folded in it. Bethel must have folded them. Careful not to disturb the nice and neat stacks, I pick out some clothes. A long blue shirt, jeans and a black leather jacket. I slip out of the dress I am wearing into the other clothes and buckle on my belt. I look at myself in the mirror overhanging the chest. The mirror has a crack running from one corner to the other. A reminder to me of my parents. I run my finger over the crack, memories flooding my senses. I came home one night to find that the mirror broken and parents taken, or drafted. I don't know which. It has been four years since my parents were lost. Three years since I was informed of there "Ill-timed and unexplained" death. Each year without them is harder then the last. If only I could get them back. For Bethel, for me. I wish them back everyday, and everyday they don't return. A sharp pain pulls me back into reality. I look down at my hand and the tip of my pointing finger is bleeding. I suck on my finger then press my thumb against the tiny wound. I look in the cracked mirror at tired, sixteen year old girl, who's hair hasn't been brushed in two days, and her bangs in her eyes. I sigh at my reflection. My blond hair and fair doesn't seem to fit me. My life is so dark and gray that my blond hair and fair skin seem out of place. I touch my cheek with my hand and it dawns on me that I'm a retch. And suddenly I almost feel ashamed that I haven't take time to brush my hair for so long. My mom's words she always used to say hit me like a nail.
"We may be poor but that does not mean we have to look like it."
Biting my lip, I grab a brush from the chest and begin to brush my hair fiercely. I look at myself in the glass while brushing. Why can't I just go on with my life and act like a normal person again? Then a question hits me: What are normal people? Are they the people who sit in office, discussing where all the drafted people will die next? The Uniformed? I push this from my mind and concentrate on trying to make my hair look presentable. Finishing quickly, I put my brush down with a shaking hand. I turn and walk to where Bethel is sleeping. Sweet Bethel, her reddish-blond hair in her face, The Dog laying on her lap again. They make such a peaceful picture and yet... To me, its a sad one. Poor Bethel's eyes had rings under them from not enough sleep and her swollen stomach was simply another reminder of how sick she is all the time from not enough food or water. And her thin shoulders shiver as wind blows in threw a crack in the window. I just watch despairingly for a moment. Why is it that a poor five-year-old has to endure so much pain when the people in Uniformed stuff themselves with the finest and choice food? As the Uniformed patrols the streets each day, the must see dozens of children, each more hungry then the last, yet they ignore them.
I kneel down beside Beth and gentle shake her shoulder.
"Bethel? Bethy?" I use her nick-name.
She opens her eyes and looks up at me dazedly.
"Yeah?"
"I'm gonna try to go sell mom's dress today, okay? Then maybe see if I can get food... Somewhere."
Bethel sits up, rubbing her eyes.
"Mel, I'm hungry."
I give one of my half smiles at how she says my name, which is really Melissa.
"I know... I am too."
I get up and walk over to the tiny kitchen and reach for a top shelf, pulling a small package of crackers down. I hand it to Bethel.
"This is all we have... Eat all of it, and don't give any to The Dog." I say sternly. "You need it more then him."
Beth nods.
"Yeah, but his name is Daniel."
I put a finger on her nose.
"And your Beth. Have you gotten the gloves you've been working on done?" I ask.
We have a lot of yarn in a big box because my mom used to make and sell things with them. Beth is quite good at it now and makes a little money when someone feels kind enough to pay for them.
Beth shrugs.
"Almost done with one of them."
"Well you can work on that and play with the blocks until I get home, okay?"
She begins to stroke The Dog's head. He tries to snatch the cracker from her hand.
"No." I say in a low voice.
He looks up at me with a puppy-dog face. I return it with a hard stare. I watch Bethel like a hawk, making sure that she eats all of it. After she finishes it, I walk over to the chest and open it again. Inside I draw out a dress. Its my mothers wedding dress. I know, even though its special, even mom would sell it if she was starving. I stand, and walk towards the door. Bethel is pulling out the half finished glove from a small box. I open the door and take one more look at her.
"I'll... Try to be back before dark." I say, regretting that I can't say 'I'll be back before dinner' because I don't know if we will have dinner.
Bethel smiles and nods. This makes me feel a bit better and I walk out, shutting the door behind me.

I'm not very sure if this is good but I like the story idea so I'll rewrite this and make it better. This isn't a whole chapter but I haven't posted anything in a while so I guess I'll go ahead. Hope you like it :)

Strawbarries.

"What?" the little girl asked, looking at the bird.
The bird's head bobbed up and down excitedly. The little girl reached out a hand towards the bird. It hopped out of her reach, giving out a chirp. The girl got up and dusted of her dress then scowled at the bird.        
"Look what you've gone and made me do."
The bird seemed to nod again.
"Well I have to go inside. Aren't you gonna eat the worm?"
The said worm was trying to borrow back into the muddy ground where the girl had been kneeling a moment ago. The bird pounced on it. The girl smiled and nodded.
"There you go. Bye bye, bird." the girl said, waving.
She skipped away, clasping a basket of strawberries in her will muddied hand. She looked down at them, contemplating weather she could eat one now. She decided and selected a big, juicy berry. She put it in her mouth then made a face. She spit it out, mud and berry then quickly looked around. She wasn't supposed to spit. The girl decided to save the berries later, after she washed them. She skipped down a hill, skirted a small pond and made her way towards a little white house. The house had no fence to decide where the borders were. The borders were where ever you wanted them to be. A huge oak tree with a tree house in it was the little girls favorite feature. Running up to the porch, she opened the door.
"Mom! Mom, I brought some strawberries from the garden."
She heard a voice answering her.
"Thank you Emma. Come put them in the kitchen."
Emma walked into the kitchen to see her mother, Linsie, mixing something up in the kitchen.
"Hi mom." she said putting the basket on the table.
Linsie smiled at her.
"Had fun playing in the mud?" she asked.
Emma looked hard at the table, rolling a berry in her hand.
"No, I just had to help a worm get a worm out of the ground."
"Is it really muddy outside?"
Emma nodded.
"Really, really muddy."
Linsie put the bowl on the table.
"Why don't you clean them," she picked up a bucket up from the floor. "With this."
Emma pulled it over to her and sat down at one of the chairs.
"Where's Gracie, mom?"
"She isn't feeling very good so she is laying down."
"What's wrong?"
Linsie wiped her hands off on a clothe.
"She's just sick."
Emma began to wash the berries.
"Think she would want some strawberries?"
Linsie nodded.
"Yes, I think so."
"Are you still going to make the strawberry pie?"
Linsie smacked her head.
"Oh, I forgot! I'm sorry, Emma, but I said that I would go to Sara's house to show her how to make my apple pie."
Emma looked disappointed.
"But," Linsie continued. "Maybe you could do it."
"Me?" Emma was not so sure.
"Why not you? I think Gracie would like that. You know how to make it, right."
Emma bit her lip. If there was one thing she hated in life, it would be cooking. But then again, Gracie did make her that doll only yesterday. Emma smiled and nodded.
"Okay, mom, I'll do it."
Linsie smiled at her.
"Now that's my big ten-year-old."
Twenty minuets later, Linsie had left and Emma had just finished washing the berries (and her hands) she took out a knife. Sitting back down at the table, Emma lined up five strawberries and chopped down. She was rewarded by the knife nicking the tip of her finger.
"Ouch!"
She sucked on her finger then washed it. It was a tiny cut, no harm done. She finished cutting up the straw berries and put them in a bowl. She heard someone walking into the kitchen. She turned around and saw Gracie, her older sister standing there. Emma quickly stood in front of her operation.
"Hi, Gracie."
Gracie looked at her questioningly.
"Hello, Emma. Do we have any water in the house?"
Emma nodded and pointed to a bucket beside the front door.
"Yeah, there. Its fresh."
"Thanks."
Gracie took a cup from the kitchen counter and dipped in the bucket.
"Are you feeling better?" Emma asked.
"No, not really. My throat hurts now as well as my head."
"I'm sorry."
Gracie smiled again.
"I'll be fine."
She went back in the living room and Emma turned back to her strawberry creation. Her resolve was strengthened. She walked over to the kitchen counter and got a bowl from it. It was dow that her mother had made the day before. Sprinkling flower on the table, she pored out the dow and began to spread it out on the table. Once it was flattened enough (she thought) she  found a pie pan and put it in. Filling the pie with berries, she put the top layer of dow on. Getting up from the table, she took the pie and put it in the oven.
Waiting was not in character for Emma. People who knew her always said that's why she never burned anything. But suddenly she saw the bird! The same bird she had seen that morning. It was on the window sill, bobbing its little blue head up and down. Emma walked over to it.
"Hello little bird. Did you eat the worm all up."
It chirped.
"Sorry, I don't have anymore."
The bird flew into the big oak tree. Emma watched and saw it land in a nest. Birds fascinated Emma greatly. She ran outside, following it. Standing at bottom of the tree, Emma could barely see its white tail over the brown nest.
Emma smiled then her eyes went wide. Her noise twitched. She smelled something burning then clapped a hand to her head.
"The strawberry pie!"
As she ran towards the house, she could see smoke coming from the window. Breathlessly, she opened the door and to her great disappointment she saw Gracie drawing the blackened pie from the oven. The elder smiled.
"Was this what you were up to?"
Emma walked slowly to the kitchen.
"I'm sorry Gracie. I didn't mean to leave it."
Gracie put it down.
"I heard you and mom talking."
She hugged her younger sister.
"Thank you for making strawberry pie for me, Emma."
"You're welcome, Gracie."

The End.

Random story by me.

Random story from me.

The wind blew silently around the mountain top, blowing snow of the cliff's edge. A foot step broke the almost deadly silence. A man struggled up the mountain face, tripping and stumbling over hidden rocks and ice. He hugged himself, trying to stay warm.  The wind grew louder as he climbed higher, punishing him unmercifully with its terrible force. He breathed hard then looked up. A black entrance stood out in the snow, like a mouth. New hope surged threw the traveler, and he began to climb faster. Perhaps maybe, just maybe that was it! A dark shape watched the small figure below, from the shelter of the black cave. It let out a breath, white clouds escaping from his mouth. What new human had the nerve to climb his mountain that day? The traveler kept climbing up, and tripped on a small rock. He slid down a few feet despairingly, watching the cave mouth grow smaller again. The person standing at the top laughed, exposing his brilliant white teeth, whiter then the snow. The traveler finally mad it to the cave mouth, panting and breathing hard. The figure stood hidden, watching with red eyes. It blinked.
"What are you doing?" it asked in a low, growling voice.
The man turned around quickly, scared.
"I... I came to see if the Seer was here, great Mander..." the man stopped, transfixed by its eyes.
The Mander leaned against the wall.
"What has a human gotta do with the great Seer?"
The man gulped.
"I... I wish to know about the oath I swore to him... That now I may be able to have food for my family?"
The Mander laughed.
"You wish to be a slave?"
The man nodded.
The Mander smiled slightly.
"I'm afraid today isn't your day, Mr. Angens."
"What do you mean?"
Several other shapes emerged from farther down the tunnel. The man looked from them to the first Mander.
"Please, sir, let me go in peace! Please!"
The Mander didn't smile.
"We do not accept backstabbers and traitors. Take him."
The other Manders grabbed the traveler and drag him down the tunnel. The Mander watched them go the turned to the wintery world again, leaning his back against the rock face, smiling.

I have no Idea why I wrote this just now but I did so........... :P Bye!