Tales from the Morai Wars (fanfiction)

Name: Lysa

Personality: Devoted and passionate, Lysa works diligently to achieve her goals. However, this is to cover her lack of innate intelligence and critical thinking. She may think shallowly occasionally, but given some time to think, she can be reasonable insightful. She currently has no position on the war. She doesn't necessarily become too attached in relationships, for she loves her work, because she finds it infinitely easier to understand her work than to unweave the complexity of an individual's ambitions and motives.

Biography: Lysa grew up in a middle class family and grew to love producing clothing. Her clothes aren't of any superior or notable quality; they are not highly fashionable, nor made of or containing any special properties. Instead, the clothes she creates are simply high quality, every stitch done with her utter care and concentration. As a result of her lacking intellect, her father managed the transactions and actual business side of her clothing production. However, he was drafted into the war and died shortly after. Though this saddened Lysa, she wasn't overly distraught about the loss of her father. Mostly just a perpetual melancholy that followed her. Lysa did not know who her mother was, for when she was born, her mother immediately deposited Lysa into the care of her father. Though it has never been explicitly stated, Lysa knows that this is because her father had impregnated a woman already married to another; the circumstances surrounding this were confusing and never spoken of. Lysa knows nothing else about her mother.

Appearance: Lysa's plain face is bordered by curly brown hair. She wears a dress she made herself that is equally as plain as she is. the dress is blue and red, and is her favourite thing to wear. When she works, she puts her hair into a ponytail with a purple ribbon.

Story parameters: I don't know when this is, but Lysa's story begins sometime during the beginning of the war. I mostly designed her so as to allow for a story progressing around her developing character of being alone and no longer having anyone to assist her as she produces goods that would more likely be less and less in demand. Anything not specified is up to you to fill in. I also assumed that, despite SK being set in sci-fi, that the medieval theme meant that they don't super mass produce clothes in 3D printer factories, haha (I'm thinking the World Wars time period).

Name: Amaria (Ya I know, I want to see how you see him during the war)

Personality: Not the most talkative of his unit but is more then willing to speak when it comes to his team and the mission, but only to those in his unit. Despite his cold blooded nature in the battle field and on the missions assigned via the Iron Wolf Unit, he is a Swordsmen through and through. Favoring the forged blade over the ranged weapons for he feels in the honored hands of his clan and training can his sword truly shine. Amaria is a idealist in the way of the blade, always wanting to hone and perfect his skills with a blade, even going so far to dawn his clans training that involves restraining ones self with a heavy iron shackle around the sword arm to quote; "Restrain ones inner evil and hate, till the peace of the mind is broken," also to give his enemies a slight handy cap when in battle for the weight off set's his natural rhythm.

On missions he is quite and reserve, for mentally he is preparing himself for the actions he is about to take, most times seen drinking from a flask with a rather strong brandy, other times when the mission isn't as intense drinking a cup of tea in silence.

Bio: Starting as a boy in the eastern providence's Amaria trained with his clan's swordsmen to learn the style of assassin that is employed in the Iron Wolf's. Haven been told as a boy that he may or may not have to take up the role because of his lack of disciplined with a blade, for his family was well known as smiths of the curved blade's, radiating with fire from within. It was at a young age his eye color change, from a bland gray to a harsh crimson, a color his clansmen knew belonged to his branch families line. A trite flowing from the first assassin of the clan, and a harsh reminder of there blood soaked rise to power in the early age's of civility.

Growing up was harsh for in his younger years he was trained from the start to control his inner self, through rough sword training all the way to mental training and study of battle field tactics he excelled at only one art, the assassin's skill set as they called it, but he never let this stop him from being kind and respectful to thoughs who showed it in return. As his training went on and it came time for him to take the vow of honor the boy at one point hesisitated, no harm came but it was then he was given the following advice;

"We are all sinners here my student. From the tips of our blades to the darkest plane of our souls we are all consumed with sin. But, those who rise above it, putting others and whats right before our personal self can truly rise above that sin and become a true warrior."

Setting his hesitation aside Amaria took the vow and shackle, followed by his vows as an Iron Wolf, a creed he still follows to this day.

Gear and Appearance: All he has is his standered Iron Wolf uniform with, at the time, modern H.U.D and mapping tools. Yet he never really used them unless really needed. His sword was and still is the Red Saber, the favored weapon of his clan.

::

As far as what I want, well be creative. It's already stated he sounds in human and his eyes match it, as far as when he became part of the war, I would say it was a good while before they left for cradle, for his age now is roughly in his late 30s. Outside of that, just do your best and I look for ward to learning why you think he is "Inhuman".

[Reserved aplication]
I'm on it, just give me time- I'll probably have time for it on the weekend.

I think instead of giving a character intro, I will just write the beginning of the story and see how you can carry on from there. And as usual, my style of writing is still "screw showing, here, I will tell you a story". Hope this can give inspiration. Although Thin may just flat out ignore this, I still felt like writing for some fun.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Overseer Xinde," a murmured boyish voice said, "I found another one."

"Take her to the infirmary..." the voice of an older woman replied.

"She is in bad shape... she has a massive sword wound on her stomach," the boyish voice lamented, "with all due respect I don't think she is going to make it..."

"A war is coming... we will need every soldier we can find, or at least, salvage... bring her in," the older woman said, "that is an order."

An old knightess woke up on top of a marble altar, the air around her was fresh, devoid of fire and ash. She took one long breath before standing off the altar, the stone was masterfully chiseled with an unintelligible language and was decorated with depictions of Valkyries slaying their fiendish foes. The wall around the altar was unnaturally white, so white that they glowed with brilliant, all of this was accompanied by the chirping of small birds as their silhouettes dashed across a faint curtain.

"Miss... Penumbra Greyionne?" a blond boy clad in white armor stepped in to inspect her, "I am glad that our healing rites worked. I am Midnight Skyraven of the blue star conclave, you are currently on board our mobile sky fortress, the wings of eternity. I hope you wounds are better now."

"Where is my son?" the old knightess replied anxiously, seeking for answer. She touched her waist looking for her sword and as it was confiscated for her own safety.

"Your son?" the blond boy frowned, not knowing what the old knightess was saying, "I have seen your personal record in the archive, old knightess, and you do not seem to have any children. Or adopted ones for that matter."

For a second, the old knightess flustered and frowned, not knowing what to say. The young Valkyrie tilted his head and remembered something.

"But we did find a corpse near the vicinity of where we found you," Midnight recalled, "A white haired mad brute clad in plate armor, but by father paradise's grace he is dead..."

"Dead? How?" Penumbra frowned with her jaw slacked.

"We inspected his body and found a gaping hole in his chest," Midnight continued, "Judging from its size and damage done to the body we concluded that it was from a sniper round, and not just any high caliber rifle rounds either, it was a tungsten penetrator round, used only used by top Morai sniper elites."

"Morai Snipers?" Penumbra said, "There were no Morai Snipers, or any Morai legionaries for that matter within ten miles from where I fell."

"Maybe, it is a miracle," Midnight scratched his head and shrugged to avoid a heated debate, "I guess it was Paradise's will to deliver vengeance upon him, are the two of you, related?"

"White haired, male, gnarly chiseled jaw with a pair of animalistic yellow eyes..."

"Wow, that fits the description of that deceased male perfectly, you two must be related..."

"Please, Midnight Skyraven of the blue star conclave, I do not want to talk about this any further..." Penumbra sighed, Midnight closed his eyes and bowed apologetically. Suddenly, the boy's comlink rang.

"Miss Xinde?" Midnight picked up the call, "Knightess Penumbra has been restored, thank the paradise... yes, I will bring back her gears, her mental condition seems questionable, but I think she is fine, she is a soldier after all. What? That can't be!" Midnight's cheered face became worried from this point on, "...Yes, I will bring Miss Penumbra to the site of the incident... thank you overseer Xinde, I won't fail you."

"What is wrong?" Penumbra asked Midnight as soon as he hanged off the comlink, Midnight looked back with a troubled face.

"I will show you the problem... come with me," Midnight gestured Penumbra to follow him, they wondered through a column of books stashed in antique wooden shelves and arrived at a balcony, Penumbra only realized how far up in the sky she was when she looked down from the balcony, high above the war zones of Isora, the blasted craters can be seen drizzled across her once lavish green landscape, the fog of war darkened white cloud looming above wasted cities, a grim reminder of what Isora could have been. Midnight, seeing that Penumbra was spacing out, passed her possession to her and she retrieved her sword.

Still saddened by Isora's current situation, Penumbra sighed, "What seems to be the problem? I don't see it."

Midnight shook his head, "I will bring you to get a closer look, old Knightess."

"You are not going to fly me there are you?" Penumbra stood back with her hands crossed, "Can't we go down by a drop ship or something?"

"Sorry, but this is really important," Midnight bowed again before facing his back towards the old knightess with his ivory wings extended, "Please, we don't have much time to waste..."

Penumbra signed and wrapped her arms around Midnight's chest plate and with some struggle, Midnight took off and dived into the fog of war, for a second their vision was shrouded by the grey and then when they entered a clearing, they witnessed a marsh room cloud in the distance, right outside the city limits of Nowensgrad, a once prominent industrial city reduced to ash in a single night by a massive workers rebellion.

"Who called in the nuclear strike?"

"From the information we received via our emissaries at the Spiral Order," Midnight explained as he slowly descended to the ground, "It was captain Ozlo, he called in a strike when a Spiral Order munition supply convoy was ambushed by a group of Morai recon elements. It seems he rather have the supplies destroyed than letting the Morais have it, no civilian casualties were registered, but still, this is an act of barbarity!"

"The spiral order have a lot of dirty secrets to hide to keep the status quo..." Penumbra grimaced, "They will go to any length to protect their public image, that is one of the reasons why I never fought for them."

"I concur, Miss Penumbra, but the nuke did more than just destroying the convoy and many Morais..." Midnight said as he unsheathed his sword, "The explosion caused an underground cave in, so catastrophic was the damage, that something was awaken from beneath."

"Beneath?"

Before Penumbra could say anything else, a phalanx of dark entities emerged from the ashes of the fall out, they marched in utter silence and leading them was a dark man clad in metal suit.

"Father Paraside preserve us..." Midnight panicked, taking out his rosary beads and prayed in between his fingers, "That is..."

"I AM RENEWAL, I AM THE PRESENT, I AM THE RECLAMATION...." the man clad in stony armor spoke in a bone crushing low tone, "I AM LORD OMEGIUS... THIS PLANET, IS MINE."

---Continued in the next installment of Dragon Ball Z---

Name: Gerard Eyles Barnold

Personality: A rather quiet person. He lacks the normal ability to socialize with anyone but rather talks in small quips of sarcasm. Or what his colleagues think the effortless insults towards them are. Gerard is rather charismatic and cunning outside his working circle.

Biography: 'Rard, that's what he likes to go by. Works part time as a coffee boy to payoff university fees. And due to his student status he can't climb the cooperate ladder and achieve is ambition to rule the world with an iron fist, on his black leather throne, in front a birch desk with a gold name plate with these exact words engraved on it: Gerard E. Barnold CEO of Isora's Best Company. For now he's stuck with a low paying job and slave to his employees, his fellow employers and the coffee machine. Either till he finishes his studies or something. Something! To turn his life around.

Appearance: Gerard sports a white shirt. Baby blue tie. And ,in his own words, the ugliest pair of khakis. But at least it had such a small price tag, it was barely noticeable

Have fun and good luck on weaving this character into your story.

If I'm remembering correctly, wasn't there an RP of a similar title some time ago? Maybe if I delve for a couple of years I can link it... Update: The time machine works. It only took me 3 years, but I can make it seem like only minutes have gone by! HAH!
I'll be reading this. I look forward to seeing the story as always, Thin. If I have time I'll submit an application as well.

I've been mulling over an idea of my own for quite a bit of time, so maybe mine'll get started shortly after yours takes off. If I can finish planning it to the end, that is... It's highly complicated. Maybe it'll stand the test of time like Machinauts has.

Also, because I feel someone will say something like "YOU'RE NOT DEAD?!" I will take the initiative and say: No. No I am not.

Huh, I was wondering why the name seemed so familiar

Your Next line is...

-
Name: Dagoon
Personality: Energetic, 'Overachiever', Blunt, Easy to Cry, Mischevious, Has a few tricks up her sleeves.
Biography: Dagoon is the daughter of a successful *cough* morai *cough* space pirate, who was banished for trying to save the lives of the Pirate's hostages- From there, she was taken in by the Spiral Order- found adrift in space with a small supply of oxygen. In the years after, she would rise up to become a trusted member who could be counted on by the Order.
However, this is the story of Dagoon's Rookie years.
Appearance: (Major design changes due to the absensce of cradle) Light Armor: Chestplate, Overcoat, Scarf, Hardened Leather Gloves, Digger Boots (Nothing that would really make noise, to encourage sneakery)
Short brown wavy hair, Blue eyes, Part Gremlin (1/6th or 1/8th? Something like that.)

Were this after The Crash, I'd say this.
"This is where you decide how Dagoon dies."

Father came home bloodied again tonight.

"Just some upset knight," he said. Yesterday it was an "accidental fall." The day before it was "his fault for not watching his step." Mother would never have put up with it. My eyes dipped back down to the garment I was sewing together as father stumbled to the counter to wipe his wounds with a dishrag.

It's unclean. It'll get infected. I put down my work and bolted over to him with a bottle of disinfectant I always kept handy for times like this. "Please don't use the dishrag, Pa," I muttered to him as I scraped the dirt and pebbles from the wound. Father nodded, not even wincing at what should have been a painful cleaning.

A sudden pounding noise jolted me out of focus. I opened the door to an Imperial Knight clad in shining armor and bearing the colors of the 71st Infantry, a prestigious group for reasons that always escaped me. He pushed me aside and strutted in. "What a charming little place you have here! I heard you sell clothing and tapestries."

I swallowed my anger and put on my sweetest tone. "Why, certainly my lord! Our cloth is custom-tailored to-"
"Yes, yes, I know," the knight interrupted. "Show me your wares. What's that?" he asked, shoving a finger into the fur coat I'd been stitching together.
"It's an incomplete fur coat. It's not for sale."
The knight just laughed and fished out his bag of coins, retorting, "It is now. How much do you want for it?"
I clenched my fists. "Our store is around the corner. Anything you see in here is not ready to be sold yet."
The knight gave me a creepy grin and said, "I guess I'll just have to confiscate it for government use then."

His filthy hand reached out to grab it. I pulled it away from him and shouted, "It's a gift for my father! Don't touch it!" Father gave me a quizzical look. It was, in fact, meant to be a surprise gift to him for the upcoming winter, as well as a durable, all-weather protection should he be drafted into the army.

The knight, however, saw it as an empty excuse. "Oh, is it now? Did you just now decide it's for your father? How sweet, how touching. Give it to me." Pain suddenly burst into my scalp as he dragged me by the hair out the door. No sooner did we make it out the door than the knight screeched and let go of me. Father's Calibur was drawn and powered. The knight's surprise transitioned into a cruel grin that sent a chill down my back.

He drew his sword and leveled it at my father.
"I challenge you to a duel."

I grabbed father's shirt and whispered, "Don't do it, it's a trap." But father just shook his head. I knew that look in his eye. My stomach began to twist into knots as he advanced on the knight. Some of the villagers stepped outside to watch the spectacle. Why don't they do something? Duels almost invariably end in death. These people know my father, and he cares for them, yet they just sit there like he's some stranger! Maybe the butcher will do something. He and father go way back. I raced up to him and pleaded, "Please, you have to help my father! That knight's going to kill him!" But the butcher just patted my shoulder and gave me a sad grimace.

As I continued pleading with the onlookers for help, I heard a pained grunt behind me.

Gleaming metal jutted out through father's back.
"FATHER NO!!"

The only man I ever loved slumped to the ground. I couldn't move. My heart stopped. There was no way he was dead. He said he would walk me down the isle when I get married someday. He said he would be there whenever I needed help. He promised.

Panic set in. I pushed through the crowds and dropped to the dirt beside him. Thank God he was still breathing! I cradled his head in my arms and cried, "Are you- are you okay Pa? Tell me you'll be okay. Please." Father gave me a faint smile and nodded. "Yeah, just as soon as I get this jerkface." A tear-laced chuckle escaped my throat. "You don't have to, Pa."

As my grief transformed into anger, I reached for father's sword. He tugged my collar to stop me, but I'd had enough. All this "chivalry" and "honor" and knightly scrap nearly killed the only family I had left. I twisted out of father's grasp and held out the sword against the knight. Not that I had the faintest idea what to do with it.

The knight unfortunately picked up on that. "Oh, so the little whore wants to duel with me, huh? Come on, peasant. Show me how to fight! Ha ha!" I swung wildly at him. There was no hitting the guy! He was like a cat, nimbly dodging everything I threw at him. My hoarse screams just seemed to amuse him.

A flash leaped out at me and bit my arm. The sword inexplicably fell out of my grasp. "Aw, got a little bloody boo boo?" the knight taunted. I shut my eyes and grabbed at the pain. But I couldn't stop now. With my good hand I picked up the sword again and charged at the knight. The weapon missed him by a hair. So I swung again. It came to a jarring halt against his own sword.

"Tsk. You annoy me," the knight muttered before kneeing me in the gut. I crumpled to the dust, unable to hold back the pain any longer. My shoulder ached so badly. My throat burned. And now my stomach was stabbing me. Hiccups kept interrupting my cries. Why couldn't I stop him? Why did all this have to happen to me? What did I do to deserve this? Why me? Why did this...this...jerkface...have to mess it up!?

I felt someone take my shoulder in a reassuring grip. I looked up to see the butcher, and beside him his wife and oldest son. The banker took my other shoulder. He leaned down and said to me, "For what it's worth, I'll stand with you, if you'll let me." I looked back at father, only for my jaw to drop.

He stood on his own two feet with the whole town beside him.

The knight sputtered and backed away. "Wh-what do you think you peasants are doing? Go back home! Shoo!" Nobody obeyed. The banker helped me to my feet. I glared at the knight and replied, "Get out of my town. You don't belong here."

The knight paused. For a moment, I truly thought I would die that day. He looked ready to kill me regardless of the consequences. He kept fingering the hilt of his sword as if he really wanted to. To my relief, he turned on his heels and marched away without another word.

Little did anyone realize just what we'd started that day.

Anybody have an opinion on my writing quality? I'm fairly certain it's deteriorated from lack of practice. Showing without telling has proved difficult.

Awesome! From the fluent beginning to the enrapturing ending, I hadn't realized how much I missed your writing :D

I love how quickly you established the setting as well as Lysa and her father's character. You never left the reader a moment of boredom. I adored how you weaved Lysa's character, and things like "the butcher just patted my shoulder and gave me a sad grimace", did a fantastic job of emphasizing Lysa's cluelessness in addition to her innocence. Having her take up the fight had me hooked in anticipation, and even with the cliche, I got a few shivers when the father was back up.

As always, your description and imagery is flawless, using metaphors, beautiful vocabulary and other literary devices to suit your needs. As mentioned prior, you created the setting efficiently and effectively, though it would have been nice to set the atmosphere of their surroundings, especially when they left the house. I felt like some pathetic fallacy or subtle hints of what exactly their living conditions were would have contributed immensely (such as her dropping "to the dirt", immediately evoked the idea of dilapidated, dusty roads).

On a more stylistic note, when switching to a character's thoughts, it's important to make it clear to the reader of the transition. "Why don't they do something?" and the subsequent internal confusion (which was great at furthering Lysa's character) threw me off and broke the flow, because it was slightly awkward, suddenly being in present tense.

The ending was clever and spot on. I was zooming through to the ending as I tend to do when I get lost in a text. Not only did it restore the reader's hopes and leave a positive aftertaste, I thought the foreshadowing used to tie in Lysa's story as an initiation of the rest of the story was sweet!

I really hope Lysa comes back in the future, along with other characters.

Sorry about not checking sooner, but it's uber late and I might be crazy, haha. I'm so glad to see you back! ^.^

EDIT: On another note, I know there are a lot of other characters to write about first, but could I possibly submit another character?

Affraiel: "Jerk face? Wow, that is some horrible insult right there... I mean, this is the kind of stuff only Desna will say when she and I got stuck in an argument. But still, I need to give Lysa points for trying. And even more points for the butcher and the banker for having the balls of steel!"

Midnight: "Well, Miss Lysa certainly did better than me when I first held a sword, I lost a lot of blood when the vanquisher's heavy blade fell onto my wrist."

Affraiel: "Really? Wow... you know, Valkyrie boy, you and I are both orphans right?"

Midnight: "Yeah, it seems to be a running trend in MDJ's writing, a lot of us have no clear past and some just popped out of existence, like Mister Inceptron and Master Pythonne for example, and lord Omegius who I may or may not have to fight later..."

Affraiel: "I mean, just curious, it seems the world of Isora is a lot darker now, and knights seemed to be money mongers. I remember a long time ago MDJ used to portray Isora that way as well. I guess both Thinslayer and MDJ had something similar in mind? Nah, I am overthinking this, it is all I can do these days..."

Midnight: "Why not join this fan fiction instead?"

Affraiel: "UGH... news flash, I am now dead! Remember in MDJ's app? That dude who you found dead next to my one failure of a mother who may or may not be a fragment of Gwen? Yeah, he IS me. Yeah, thanks DJ, first Thinslayer retconned me out of existence during RTC2 and now giving me the D.O.A.? Is this really how you treat your first RP character?!"

Midnight: "Wait, I remembered a detail... the bullet which killed you is a tungsten penetrator round, and in RTC2, you purchased five of them in an effort to kill miss Gwen. Could it be, that the future you in an alternate timeline far off into the cradle's future went back here to kill the you in this Morai war timeline?"

Affraiel: "Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffftttt.... and why would I kill myself?"

Midnight: *sighs* "I guess we just have to find out."

@Hexlash: Dang, you have a gift for writing feedback. Yeah, I struggled with tense changes; I toyed with present tense before settling on past tense, in which case I had to go back and change some stuff. And I can see how the change in perspective would be confusing; first person narration is kind of a dicey thing. The problem is determining the narrator's level of metacognition. Chances are, they're not going to remember that they swung their sword this way or that, or that a sniper was staring at them from a hiding spot. They're going to remember how they felt, what their intentions were, what they thought, and such like. Action sequences and generally anything requiring knowledge of things external to the narrator make things difficult.

Additionally, you make a good point about setting the atmosphere. I'd completely forgotten to set it up. I still remember the guidelines I learned about how to do that, so I should be able to incorporate your feedback next story.

EDIT: And yes, you can submit another character if you want.
__________

I'm writing for characters in the order I receive them, so Amaria is next in line for his tale. Thus far, the background environment is more or less known to me, and his allegiance is pretty much certain, barring the appearance of new ideas. I'm still working on his story in my head atm.

As far as an atmosphere goes I would subject any if not most to the following:

Emotions: What is the character feeling at the time; anger, fear, hate, happiness. Despite what most thing when your emotions are in writing they influence more then just the focal point, in a since they make you see more from that emotional point of view. For past-tense terms an emotion like anger might be more narrow and force the writing style to reflect more of what is the center of the emotion, in this case if its a target then we might get more detail about the target; actions, personal detailing, body language, ETC. Emotion can also work against a person in righting as well, as far as anger is concerned again we might get less brawd detail like what is happening around us. Its almost like in film, you don't want too much other wise we loose focus of what is happening, and too narrow and there is really no point to the shot, same with emotion in writing, what do you want us to see, how does the emotion of the character effect what is being seen/felt/writen.

Outside sources: Many times in writing perspective is key, well outside sources also have a perspective as well and they need to be shown as well. If the story is coming from a first person perspective then the fewer the detail until the source is in better view the better. If its third person but still going from the main view of the character then less is better until the character has a better view of the target/goal/object. If it's from a narrational perspective then it's okay to give more detail, think of it like a cake if you will, and Detail is the frosting/toppings, you don't want too much other wise if just comes off as bland filler with no cakey goodness. Too few and the flavor is off and it's just bread.

Environmental: Well this is an after effect of emotion because the environment is going to be based on what the character currently sees, however environment might also be a factor due to the way the layout of the land is, it is always good to give us key features such as they type of environment or objects/people/obstacles in the adjacent area to the character/characters in the current scene.

Those are some basic things that all effect atmosphere in writing, I hope it helps.

Review: 7/10

Perhaps it's because I've been reading mainly high quality Light Novels lately, but I've managed to catch a couple of areas which could be improved. I suppose I'll start at the top and make my way down; I'll keep the quotes in code rather than using quotation marks.

Mother would never have put up with it.
In the character description Lysa didn't know her mother, this makes me wonder why it is she thinks this way. If you simply omitted that part of the application, the line would make sense.
If not then I, as a reader, can come up with some guesses as to what Lysa's saying behind the lines: "Maybe she created a mental image of what her mother was like" or "Perhaps Lysa's just being ironic and this statement is more along the lines of 'Well, I never knew my mother so I couldn't really say.'" In the end these are just guesses, however. It would be better to actually state that she didn't know her mother in the story rather than keep it in the original Bio. That is, of course, in the case where the whole "didn't know her mother" thing wasn't omitted.

a bottle of disinfectant I always kept handy for times like this.
There's not anything that's particularly bad about this line, but I feel that it could be improved. You had mentioned that her father was coming back hurt every day, so perhaps changing it to something like "a bottle of disinfectant which seemed to be getting emptier with each passing day." could have been used to further that point.

a prestigious group for reasons that always escaped me.
Putting "prestigious group" in quotations would emphasize Lysa's view on the group a bit better.

I swallowed my anger and put on my sweetest tone.
It's unclear why Lysa's angry. Is it because the knight barged in (whereas changing it to something like "I swallowed my anger at the knight's lack of delicacy/common courtesy/other-descriptions-of-his-behavior and put on my sweetest tone" would be better)? Or is it simply because she doesn't like him (whereas this would be a perfect opportunity to display Lysa's dislike for the soldiers)? Or possibly both?
If it is both, then you can ignore this point, because leaving it as-is led me to think of both of those possibilities.

for the upcoming winter, as well as a durable, all-weather protection should he be drafted into the army.
This line needs to be done over. I know it's talking about the coat, but... My recommendation is to make it something like this: "It was, in fact, meant to be a surprise gift to him for the upcoming winter. It was durable, and due to its quality and the furs used to create it, it would have offered all-weather protection should he be drafted into the army."

Did you just now decide it's for your father?
Seeing as it was already declared that the knight saw Lysa's previous excuse as a facade, this part isn't necessary.

Give it to me." Pain suddenly burst into my scalp as he dragged me by the hair out the door.
There's nothing wrong with these lines, per se. I just find it kind of odd how the knight would just suddenly reach for Lysa's hair when he could have just as easily reached for the coat. Putting an event in between the knight's speech and him reaching for her hair would have been better.
For example, they could have gotten into a scuffle over the coat, and Lysa could have accidentally splashed some of the disinfectant in the Knight's face, partially blinding one of his eyes. Such an event could have been used as a description of the knight later (should he be used after this segment). Otherwise, it could have been said that the disinfectant was diluted and wouldn't provide any long-term issues -- allowing us readers to catch a glimpse at the impoverished side of the family ('we only have enough money to buy very diluted disinfectant').
Otherwise, things like sewing needles, shoving, or attacks incidentally scraping the knight's insignia could have been used for some sort of conflict before the knight resorts to dragging Lysa towards the door.

No sooner did we make it out the door than the knight screeched and let go of me. Father's Calibur was drawn and powered.
I don't understand why the knight would screech in this situation. If the knight's character is what I think it is, then "something like a wry smile appeared under the Knight's helmet" would have probably been a better reaction to Lysa's father drawing his weapon. It would show the knight's confidence in his skills -- it could also be seen as the knight looking down on the father.

"I challenge you to a duel."
I find this a little too plain. Adding something like "Hah. So the trash has some guts after all. Very well, -line goes here-" would be more dramatic.

I grabbed father's shirt and whispered,
Seeing as she was just dragged out of the room by her hair adding some sort of pain still being present in her approach -- some sort of description showing just how weak she's feeling -- would have been better here.

I knew that look in his eye.
But I don't. Something describing when he's used this look before would allow a deeper understanding of the father's character. For example: "It was the look he used when the tax collectors came to take away the Elder's daughter as compensation for -insert reason relating to the village's current financial/political situation here-"

My stomach began to twist into knots as he advanced on the knight.
There's not really anything wrong with this line. Just as my personal opinion, duels are something that takes place in open areas, so it would be better to say that the father and knight walked to some sort of clearing in front of the house, rather than the father "advancing" towards the knight.

Maybe the butcher will do something. He and father go way back. I raced up to him and pleaded,
Because villagers are apparently gathering around the scene, having Lysa "search through the crowd" for him (rather than just finding him immediately) would have been more realistic.

Gleaming metal jutted out through father's back.
"FATHER NO!!"

The only man I ever loved slumped to the ground. I couldn't move. My heart stopped.
The bottom line would do better after the first -- in between it and the middle. Other lines could be added to make speech follow directly after. Like this:
Gleaming metal jutted out through Father's back. The only man I ever loved slumped to the ground. I couldn't move. My heart stopped. Regardless of my heart shattering, my mind broke through the paralysis.
"FATHER NO!!"
I find that a bit more effective. Keeping all of the feelings of despair wrapped up in one line, then releasing them through speech.

Panic set in. I pushed through the crowds and dropped to the dirt beside him. Thank God he was still breathing!
More physical descriptions on the father's condition would be appreciated here. For example, noting the previously disinfected wounds had gotten dirt on them once again. Or perhaps blood trailing down from the wound which was now open due to the knight's sword leaving her father's increasingly pale skin.

"Yeah, just as soon as I get this jerkface."
I know that "jerkface" is being used to bring some sort of relief to his daughter, but... As a description, it seems kind of childish. It causes me to question the maturity of the father.

As my grief transformed into anger, I reached for father's sword.
Describing where the sword was would be more effective. Seeing as the father was able to reach out and grab her in the lines afterwards, it was likely still within his grip. Showing that the daughter was able to take her father's sword from his hand would emphasize the father's weakened state even further than the lines prior.

I swung wildly at him. There was no hitting the guy! He was like a cat, nimbly dodging everything I threw at him.
These lines seem sub-par. I'd recommend revision. Ex: "I swung wildly at him, but either due to my lack of skill or his agility, I couldn't even scrape his armor. But I continued my assault, my anger pouring out of me in the form of screams and shouts as my father's sword struck air."

The sword inexplicably fell out of my grasp.
I'm not sure if "inexplicably" is the proper word to use here.

I shut my eyes and grabbed at the pain.
Describing what she was attempting to accomplish by grabbing her arm would do this line some justice.

My shoulder ached so badly. My throat burned. And now my stomach was stabbing me.
Physical descriptions? Level of pain? I believe the common suggestion used in situations like these is "show, not tell".

Why did all this have to happen to me? What did I do to deserve this? Why me?
"Why did all this have to happen to me?" and "Why me?" are pretty much the same thing here, I think. Also, I'm not going to comment on the second "jerkface" usage on its own. I sill think a better descriptor should have been used, but I digress.

I felt someone take my shoulder in a reassuring grip.
It should probably be mentioned which shoulder is being gripped here. I wouldn't usually comment on something like this, but it was previously mentioned that one of Lysa's shoulders were aching. Whether the butcher grabbed the aching shoulder or the supporting shoulder, symbolic meanings can come out of either -- but meanings can't be shown if I don't know which shoulder it is. It is therefor important to declare which shoulder is being grasped by the butcher.
Seeing as the banker grasps the other shoulder, it's not a huge issue, but if only for the sake of describing the scene better, Ièd like to know which one the butcher grasped.

Nobody obeyed.
Making some sort of comment on what they would usually do in this situation (likely cowering and obeying) would make their decision to stand together more dramatic.

I glared at the knight and replied, "Get out of my town. You don't belong here."
Kinda cliché... Also, this event (while dramatic) wouldn't likely give a common tailor like Lysa the courage to declare this town as her own. It would be better to change "my" to "our".

There're also many past-present tense issues scattered throughout, but you have already addressed such things so I won't comment on them beyond this short para.

=====

Anyways.

That's my dissection of your work -- sorry it became a huge wall of text. I'm no good with giving words of praise, so it may seem as though I'm being harsh... It doesn't help that I've seemingly become quite rusty myself in offering recommendations -- It was difficult putting my feelings on how to improve into words. Despite how it seems, I really do think that your writing is good.
I'm sure you'll break out of the rust as you write, and perhaps my critiquing your writing will offer some benefit to me as well! I'm looking forward to it!

As an aside, I'll probably make an app tomorrow.

@Thin, I'm glad I could help! I also forgot to mention that "Oh, so the little whore wants to duel with me, huh? Come on, peasant." Was one of my favourite lines. The knight's character is so effectively shown as he devolves from condescendence to ruthless contempt.

@Ember, Woooahhhh, I really hadn't even thought about it like that before! Some stuff did stick out awkwardly to me, but I had no way of understanding what the error was like you did. Though I love most of your proposed revisions, like your emphasis of elements in the setting (such as the disinfectant; who knew you could take a minor, quickly forgotten detail and build upon it so much??), you have to keep in mind that Lysa is supposed to be simplistic and shallow. The use of redundancy and, especially when articulating her thoughts, lack of eloquence really add to her character.

@Hex
Yeah. I know that the way the story is told is meant to be simple, but... I like details! ALL the details! Furthermore, because the story was put into past-tense, adding details could be contributed to the future-Lyra's character. How one tells a story of the "past" often reflects on how one speaks in the "present", after all.
That being said, if Lysa didn't become extremely attached to details as she lived on then this presentation style is well suited towards her.

Part of me wants to say that a story should be told with excruciating detail regardless of the MC's personality and traits, but that's probably just my own writer's style leaking out.

I'd forgotten Hexlash's guidelines about Lysa's parents. I meant to imply that her mother was dead in that one part.

@Ember-Break: I appreciate your detailed feedback. You managed to pick up on almost every single section I was unsure about. xD

The dropship rumbled and shuddered as it sped just over the treetops of the arctic southern region of Isora. Amaria cemented his grip on the handle while pulling tighter his winter coat to shut out the icy chill that still seemed to seep through. "Comfortable there, Amar?" Cedric quipped. Amaria shrugged and grunted, prompting an amused snort from his bulky comrade. "Yeah, me neither."

They gazed out of the frosted window at the scenery below them. So thick were the treetops laced together that the snow spread out over the forest like tarp, broken only by the occasional clearing, wherein could be seen the forms of wild animals scurrying into hiding that doubtless heard the unmistakable hum of the Imperial dropship zooming by. Squad commander Pippin tapped Amaria on the shoulder and pointed through the window at a snow-covered precipice in the distance. "There. The hidden city is supposed to be at the foot of that cliff somewhere. We'll come around and drop off at the south end."

When the dropship came to a halt, Amaria and team jumped into the snow and began to pick their way through it. The pilot said through the com channel, "I'll pick you guys up at the rendezvous point at 1100 hours. Don't be late!" With that, he revved up the engines and sped off, leaving the four Imperial soldiers to the eerie silence of the snow. Rin loaded a clip into her autogun. "Never know what we're gonna find out here," she justified aloud. Pippin nodded, adding, "True enough. And though I'm loathe to split us up, it'll make our search go that much faster. Cedric, go with Amaria. Rin, you're with me. You guys head east and I'll head west. And just in case it bears repeating, be back at the rendezvous point by 1100 whether your search is fruitful or not. If you find the city, let me know, and I'll bring the detonators. We clear?"
"Clear," everyone replied at once.
"Good. Split."

Amaria and Cedric continued picking through the snow. They found mostly stones, some of which were marked, a common practice for arctic hunters in the area. "What are we supposed to be blowing up here, anyway?" Cedric asked, stopping to pull his leg out of a deep spot in the snow. "People," came the deadpan reply. As if anyone would *want* to live here. Sometimes I question the sanity of the brass, Amaria thought to himself. Cedric chuckled. "Funny. I'm guessing it's either rebels or an experiment gone bad that they wanna cover up. I mean, who would want to live here? It's like a dang freezer out here!" At that, Amaria nodded in agreement. And that's why you're my teammate.

He looked up and around at his surroundings; while life seemed to be teeming in the clearings they saw from the dropship, there was precious little of it in the depths of the forest. Only the crunching of the snow beneath their footfalls broke the still silence of the wilderness. They trudged on from tree to tree, the path ahead no different from the path behind, dragging every step through another second of eternity. They didn't even mind when they occasionally tripped and tumbled into the ice, as the cold had long lost its bite. At long last, though, Amaria's foot lost its balance against an invisible slope, but this time dragged the rest of him with it.

Both he and Cedric tumbled down the slope and eventually hit bottom, where they finally found that which they long sought. Before them stood a village of crude log houses, lightly dusted with snow but otherwise unburied, much to their surprise. It was no wonder they couldn't find it from the air, for the foliage overhead formed a makeshift cover over most of the area. Neither soldier could speak, instead agreeing to explore the village individually by silent agreement.

Amaria ventured into the nearest house. The door was unlocked (that, or the lock was broken). Inside, there was only a table, chair, and ashen hearth. A loaf of half-eaten mouldy bread stood upon the table beside a glass of bug-laden water. Further in, an unfilled knapsack sat beside an open chest. The chest was filled with clothes, tools, and other anemities likely belonging to a man. Mystified, Amaria stepped back out and trudged over to the next house, which was locked. Having decided that this house would be as unoccupied as the others, he took a few steps back and broke down the door.

His hypothesis seemed accurate. He could not see life forms of any kind remaining in the structure, which must have once housed a family of about six or so, judging from its size. But like the previous house, there were signs of a hasty departure. There were bowls of mouldy soup at the table, and a pot of it stood at the very center with a ladle still inside. Then a thought occurred to Amaria: the door could only be locked from the inside. If the village was as empty as initially hypothesized, then how could the door be locked if there was no one inside to lock it? Perhaps there was someone in the loft. He climbed the nearby ladder and lifted the hatch.

He was right.
There was someone still in the house.

The rotting remains of a small boy clung to a stuffed bear in one corner of the loft. Amaria looked him over for any injuries, and finding none, guessed that perhaps the boy starved to death. But that theory was quickly put to rest when it occurred to him that there was uneaten soup still at the table, which the boy would undoubtedly have eaten were he hungry. So how then did the boy die up here? Unable to solve this mystery, he left the house and tried the nearby inn.

The inn proved much more revealing. The remains of nearly twenty people lay on the floor, some prostrate, some curled up, and others bent over tables. Most had guns or swords in their hands, even the women. As Amaria processed everything he'd just seen, his heart sank when the obvious conclusion dawned on him. Chemical weapons were used here. But then, why were people armed? Now determined solve this riddle, he stepped outside and looked around for any signs of conventional conflict.

It didn't take long. There, in the town square, lay the bodies of several Imperial soldiers in a roughly circular pattern, in the center of which were the forms of four dead figures, most villagers. As Amaria drew closer, he realized that one of the four was the lifeless husk of an Imperial knight. He was still kneeling upright in the snow, his sword planted into the ground and his face, preserved by the cold, was forever etched into an expression of serene sorrow, bearing the weight of failure, bereft of all hope yet still defiant in the face of its destiny.

The Empire can still hear the cries from their blood. It wants to silence them.

"Find anything?" Cedric shouted from the other side of the village.
"Yeah."

Amaria gently unwrapped the knight's hand from the sword and hefted its icy hilt in his palm.

You can rest easy, soldier.

It's my turn now.

I should really proofread this thing at the Preview stage...

I usually edit my posts ~3 times after posting them. To me, the preview stage only exists for saving, then realizing a second afterwards that mistakes have been made. Sort of like when you lock the car and close the door, then realize you left your keys inside. Or a similar situation with houses. Or bus fares. Not that I've done any of those or anything! Ahaha. Hah. Haaa... ._.

Anyways. My App is currently in its skeleton format, and I'll probably edit over this post with the App itself. Before that, however... I must ask, what's the political situation of the Knights, currently? Monarchy? Democracy? I plan on making an aristocrat/rich character for my app, so knowing where they would stand politically would help in the Bio area.
It'd be especially helpful if I got some information on whether or not wealthy individuals had private armies and the like.

Isora is a Roman-style republic, with a senate of representatives elected by the provinces and an executive official elected by the public.

Nationalism is predominant in this era; as such, private armies are uncommon.

Interesting, you see him as a hero but not in the normal since of the word. He comes across as a man who is clearly willing to do the mission despite the fact it would involve means of ill-fated action. However he is still an honor bound swordsmen who can recognize when one is in distress just by the look on there face. Meanwhile internally he is always thinking, processing and trying to understand using ever logical out to make his judgement calls as accurate as possible while leaving room for doubt should it truly exist.

All in all its a nice Start of a background story, and one I really do like, yet for some reason, maybe I missed it, by I don't see him as completely inhuman here. Maybe at best just a very deadpanned person who has a since of humor, but is clearly willing to do the dishonorable thing should it be right. I suppose that is the inhuman part of him shining through, where he is willing to straight out murder people.

As for his team, well I don't know much about them but they seem to be more like other sides of his personality. Perhaps, or perhaps I am reading too deep into this. Hell he could be imagining his squad and could have been doing this mission alone. The mind is truly a scary thing.

I don't believe Amaria is inhuman. To be completely honest, I elected to disregard that parameter. I always saw him as a logical, honorable, and tragic character; an inhuman person has polar opposite traits. If I have to choose between tragic and inhuman, I pick tragic, because I suck at writing crazy people atm.

Sall good man. Still I am rather intrigued to read more, I suppose I will have to step it up for the Forum he is currently in then en?

Name: Kale Walker

Personality: Kale has a deep-seated sense of honor, and displays it on the battlefield. He comes from a long line of Guardians, and bears the title with pride. He is known for his bravery and courage on the battlefield, willing to protect a fallen ally even if they were separated from the shield wall. Off the battlefield, Kale is honest and trusting, he thinks simply, which has led to him being betrayed once or twice. However being distrustful and paranoid goes against his personality, so he hasn't changed much since then. Much to his dismay, some call him a 'motherly' figure, as he tends to chastise people for slacking off on and off the field. Still, Kale remains steadfast in personality and physicality.

Biography: Growing up under a middle class family, Kale deviated towards the military. He wanted to be like the ancestors his parents spoke of, who never wavered on the battlefield and held against forces untold. He joined guardian training at the young age of 11, and quickly became adept at performing his role in a squad. However, an upper class official took a disliking to him, and made sure he never made it past a First Class Guardian. Oblivious, Kale kept at it, but faltered when he heard news from home. His younger brother had disappeared, suspected of running away from military drafting. Kale immediately took a leave of absence to return to his village to look for his brother. Unfortunately the Morai war began, whisking Kale away to the front line. Finding that battle took his mind off of his worries about home, Kale fought as hard as he could. One day, during a campaign through some mountains, a comrade betrayed Kale's company and they were ambushed. Kale did what he did best, but the numbers were overwhelming, and a lucky push allowed half of his company to make a break for it. Demoralized, Kale did his best to keep upbeat, and kept his comrades alive until they could meet up with reinforcements.

Appearance: Ironmight Helm and Azure Guardian Armor, highlighted blue instead of red. On the rare times he isn't wearing armor, he usually wears cargo pants and a solid cobalt style jacket.

Gear: Ironmight Helm and Azure Guardian Armor as mentioned above. Owns a plate shield style guardian shield, reinforced with its own power source, it can take blows of immeasurable power if the wielder can hold it steady. Weapon of choice is a Leviathan Blade, elongated to that of a Triglav. Secondary weapon is a modified Iron Slug which functions as a single handed shot gun.

Story Parameters: Hm, I'd like to see him on the front line, doing what he does best. Of course a pre/post battle scene may be interesting.

Read your story so far. I feel my submitions is out of place...
Other than that great story. But it just seems to fast paced on your last one with Amaria. Maybe describe his personaly opinion on matters? Example:

When he was scanning the houses in the village. Perhaps describe how he feels about the rotten bowls of soup? I understand he's rather analytical with his hypothesis forming but everyone's human (or knight-spiral-alien-creature). Or maybe just gloss over that he was too busy surveying the area to care about the wretched smell of month-old soup. Now he just seem be just there to advance the plot.

That's just my opinion (again) as I am an amateur writer.

Actually, I had a similar thought. It occurred to me that I didn't describe Amaria's feelings very well, and I think they would have greatly contributed to the story.

@ #19
Seeing as this character was used elsewhere, and I haven't invested the time to go look for where, I can't actually review this. From an outsider's standpoint, this story was great. I could visualize the snowfields quite clearly, and the descriptions within the home and of the deceased (especially the frozen imperial) were great.
I have questions regarding Amaria's character, and could probably give a better review if I had read over the RP he's in, but... As I said, I haven't invested enough time into that.

Now then. My App is finished.

===

(As an aside, I'll take "private armies are uncommon" as "they exist, but they're not common". And so, I shall have my character come from a Patrician-type home with a Private Army!)

Name:
Rama Grothia (Derived from Ramạdrawạng Grothiá -- good luck figuring out what the two together mean.)

Bio:
Rama was raised as the 3rd child in the Grothia household (one of the founding families of the order -- although the title of "founder" had been becoming more nominal in recent times), and as the 3rd she was raised to be neither the "prim and proper face of the family" nor the "organizational mind responsible for the future of the family". If it had been a regular noble house, her position would be likened to a "bargaining chip" to be traded to another house for the sake of empowering ties between the families. The Grothia family is not like other households, however.
Renowned for the production of warriors and tacticians, Rama's family felt no need to raise her to become a living accessory, and trained her to defend her two elder siblings, who would work together to ensure a spot among the higher-levels of government using the family's resources, connections, and other such things. In other words, Rama was to be made into a "perfect escort", trained in both close-combat and tactical-warfare of all kinds.
Was being the key word.
While being trained, Rama's family quickly became aware of her... "Unique" method of dealing with situations. That is to say, they noticed that her methods for any given situation usually revolved around a single point: "Just attack the enemy until there's not one left to attack." Below are results to simple "situation tests" given by the family to Rama:
---
The escort has been ambushed by an unknown assailant, you have 3 troops to command --further details, such as troop positions omitted--. What is the best way to handle the situation?:
Rama's Answer:"Beat down the enemy until they admit who planned the assault. Then beat down the one who planned the assault."

Your troops have been caught by a pincer attack -- resources are cut off, and your soldiers are faltering, how do you react?:
Rama's Answer: "Announce that any soldiers still standing will be beaten if they do not assault the enemy and break through. Then beat down the enemies. In the case that the pincer attack was successful due to a scout's failure, proceed to beat up the scout."

You have been cut off from your troops and supplies, and are facing a seemingly endless army. You're currently injured, and have little chance of escape, how do you react?:
Rama's Answer: "Even with this handicap, the enemy has no chance of success. Beat them all."
---
Because of these answers, Rama was renounced of her position as the "head escort" and simply made a guard for the household, a "guard dog" in other words. She was also put in charge of 1/15th of the family's private troops [I'll grant creative privileges as to how many units this would be] for the sake of defending the household.

Despite the scores she was given in regards to tactical tests, she is actually rather insightful when it comes to warfare. The only reason why she received poor recognition was due to the fact that the main situations that she was tested on had her present -- which she took as a personal challenge (this once again goes back to her confidence in her own strength). In such a way, she is actually quite prodigal as a tactician, albeit as one that must stay in the sidelines for her strategies to function properly (or at least consist of more than just beating her opponents to a bloody pulp); unfortunately, most of her family has not realized her talent, and alienates her -- not so much that they'd show disrespect, but enough where they'd consider her as "just another guard". It wouldn't be a stretch to say that she's not directly treated as a member of the Grothia household, but rather as a simple employee.

Personality:
Rama is blunt, and confident in her personal strength. This confidence is rooted to her devotion in training -- another one of her traits that allows her be so well-suited for guard duty. While Rama prefers simpler approaches to things, she is willing to plan to the finest detail to increase the effectiveness of her actions, but that attention to detail is done naturally, so it often seems that Rama is just doing what she thinks of on the spot. When asked for her honest opinion she will happily give it without reservation, even if it's not what people want to hear.
When facing others, Rama is usually quite reserved -- not because she has a haughty personality (which is what some visitors are led to think due to her appearance combined with her personality), but rather because she has acknowledged her position within the household and maintains that appearance at all times. That, combined with her training from a young age resulted in her calm, quite temperament and seemingly oppressive aura which she omits at all times without her knowledge. She holds no ill feelings towards her family, despite giving her the position she has.
When addressing her fellow guards, Rama is strict, but forgiving. Her "forgiveness" often comes in the form of "I'll forgive you if you do 300 laps around the premises", which makes other guards fear her supposed wrath, but Rama is oblivious to this. To her, training is a privilege -- to defend the household in her opinion is one of the highest positions one can attain. Furthermore, 300 laps would be considered quite lenient to Rama, given her hellish training routine (essentially wearing extremely heavy weights on her body at all times while using Grothia fighting techniques -- which sacrifice stamina and pain-tolerance for force and fortitude -- at all times, excluding sleep and bathing). As a rule of thumb, Rama will forgive anyone, provided they have an adequate reason for doing what they did even if their actions are seen as atrocious to others (Rama's "adequate" is based off of chivalry and humility due to her upbringing as a guard).

Appearance:
Rama stands at an imposing 6'2" (~188cm) with dark tanned skin, which is the signature trait of her family's heritage. Her hair is pitch-black, and is usually made in this style. Her eyes are a dark green, dark enough to be mistaken for pitch-black under darker light, and are thin vertically and long horizontally, giving the impression that Rama is always glaring. Those close to Rama (mainly other guards of the household) can recognize the subtle changes in her facial features, but outsiders would say that her facial expressions usually revolve around "scowling for no reason" or "looking down on others" (literally and figuratively). Other than those features, her body's proportions are a bit thinner than average with visible, compact muscles which are a result of her training.

Gear:
As a guard of the Grothia household, Rama wears something akin to Tri-Guard Armor combined with the plating of Heavy Plate Mail for the most part; while on duty she usually refrains from wearing the helmet of the set (which is essentially a Tri-Guard Helm) because it hinders her vision. On times where she is off-duty, she wears a lighter set of Padded Armor. The color scheme of all her gear is mainly grey and silver -- a common scheme for guards of Grothia. She also wears weights under her armor at all times, which can act as unintentional armor, given the fact that she's almost completely covered in them -- without using Grothian combat techniques to alleviate the pressure the weights would exert on the ground beneath her feet, craters would likely appear with her every step.
Rama uses neither shields nor blades, and prefers to fight using her fists in combat -- her combat style is focused around pressure-point jabs to incapacitate her foes, and knife hand strikes capable of cutting through most armors like paper.

Story Parameters:
It was mentioned previously that Rama is actually quite skilled at tactical warfare, but was misunderstood as incompetent due to the questions being asked. I'd like a story where someone discovers this talent. Who discovers it, and how the discovery is made is up to you, @Thin. If these parameters are too restraining, then you may ignore this section and write a story with her however you'd like.

tl;dr
Rama seems like a muscle-head (and looks the part), but she's not. Make a story surrounding the "but she's not" part. If not, then do what you want.

[Edit: Changed the personality section -- seeing as most of it would have been better suited in the Bio section.]

(In part at Ember-Break as well)

Amaria is one of those people who tend to keep his mind completely set on what ever is currently happening, where I said emotion is important it is also true at the same time to remember that exclusion of emotion can me just as powerful of a tool. In this case we are getting a non-bios look at an event that took place in this town. If he was showing emotion the scene could have been ruined by an unneeded thought, Honestly that is also how I kinda see Amaria my self. A little cold in his work, but calculated at all times, always trying to understand and process the information before him to make the best call in the moment.

But that's just me.

Any further feedback on my latest story before I proceed?

You'll get no complaints here!

I forgot to ask in the last post, but... Were Cedric, Rin, and Pippin characters before the Fanfic insert? I'm just curious. Mainly about Pippin, seeing as I've used that name, and it stuck out while reading. I'm about 98% sure it was a coincidence, but still. I gotta know -- if curiosity killed the cat, then I'm the accomplice-who-just-watches-the-killer-do-his/her-work!

The characters were newly introduced. Cedric is a bulky hunk who towers over everyone else. Rin is a fairly ordinary girl, a bit on the quiet side, who enjoys shooting up stuff. Pippin is a guy unrelated to your character; he's competent, but he's in bed with the government brass and beurocrats, so chances are, he's going down when Amaria gets to him. Amaria is the second-smallest guy of the bunch (after Rin), lean, smart, and stronger than he looks. He and Cedric seem like an odd couple at first, considering their vastly disparate sizes, but they're both quite introspective and intelligent, so it was only natural that they became close friends.

Alright. Thanks for the descriptions. They helped me envision the scenes where characters other than Amaria are in the picture a bit better. Lookin' forward to your next work.

Is this story still active?

I'm still deciding on how to handle post #5. I can't decide whether to throw Gerard into a battle as a new recruit, put him in a corporate office in Va'Ilsola, or have him romance the Morai princess. Ah, decisions, decisions...

Decisions indeed.
But personally I'd prefer, in accending order: 3, 1, 2...

Then again you could just do something completly diffrent from what has been mentioned. Or all of them.

P.S. Bump

Hey, happen to that fan fic that you were working on? I was sort of looking forward to reading it.

P.S. no writings for Penumbra then?

@Gunnerific: So basically, he'd romance a Morai princess, go to war, then go back to being a coffee boy afterwards. You know, that's not a bad analogy for how America's veterans get treated. But our Morai War is just getting started, so...

@Midnight-Dj: Considering Penumbra's personality, it'll be difficult to write with him until the war is well underway. It's also one of the reasons I'm struggling with Gerard - I have this story of a new recruit thrown into a heated war, but the war's not exactly underway yet, so I have to rewrite the story in my head. I may take another look at Penumbra once the war is in full swing.

I kinda want to see more of this background with Amaria...ah well then I have my head and the sad case where I can't get writers block .-. and I also want to get that idea I proposed to you a while back.

You'll be seeing more of Amaria, probably in the short story following Gerard's. An OC of mine also shows up in that episode.

Could you refresh my memory on the idea you'd proposed back then?

Soild hit, other wise get on steam and we will talk.

Dead People.

Still here guys. Looks like I'll have to shelve Gerard's story for the time being. I enjoyed making mental stories for him, but none of them had the kind of quality you've all come to expect. The Siege of Va'Ilsol is more complete in my head. Gerard will have his day, and when it comes, it'll be fantastic, but it is not this day.

I don't necessarily think the order in which characters are written matters much anyways. While I can't speak for how other App-submittors would feel if their apps are pushed back, I always convince myself that my app will never be used before creating it.
Essentially, if it reaches the spotlight: great.
If it doesn't: too bad.
If others are written of instead: then I'm glad that I get to read more story-stuff.

I think something common among app-submitters is that we submit apps so that we see more stories coming out (in the case of Fan-Fics), or more buildup in the story (in the case of RP's). So, really, so long as you write more (even if you neglect every application and use your own characters) I don't think anyone should be all that dissatisfied.
That's my opinion, anyways.

Gerard can show up as a supporting character, then.
Perhaps the knight in the background delivering a message to the queen or such.
Or a friend of another character.
There are plenty of ways to use a character without completely writing them off.
Edit: His personality can still be used, anywho.

TO BE REWRITTEN!

This probably isn't my finest work, but I had fun with it. If you haven't guessed, it's a two-parter, so there's more where that came from.

The pacing is bad, and the plot is a cobbled mess. I could use a second opinion before I take it down for a rewrite.

It feels a little but ragtag it is telling a story. The hard part to follow is where did the conflict start and why is it happening here, what is happening here, who are the people fighting, why are they just mindlessly killing.

The list can go on, but for the most part its a moving narrative, give us a clue as to why the Government is attacking it's own people outside of 'its just a bad town where bandits and ETC live. I am not trying to be mean but the Rebels part seems more like a nice cover for a Government to send in secret opts not full out war unless something else was hiding down there. However I don't have any real clue.

I suppose its just me thinking aloud but before starting an allout 'total war' on some rebels I would at least send in some Spec. Opts. to try and get the job done first, meaning the protagonist might notice some shady men or perhaps over seen something he shouldn't have to be mixed up in these whole thing.

As far as it stands, instead of taking it down and completely redoing it I would suggest trying a different approach to the current problem that is at hand instead of straight out Total War on this civy town.

As for me, still worth a read before you undo it.