(This is my example of an entry using my NPC Jonas, please note that you do not need to use the same format or style and are encouraged to use any writing style that calls out to you. Post them below mine, do not start your own thread.)
Jonas Kane (Part I)
Jonas wiped a cloth along the top of the Dragon’s Claw bar, soaking up the spilled ale from a drunken patron, some tree logger passing through town. He took a long draw on his cigar and stared at the man, contemplating either to pick his pockets for sport or throw him out on his ass for laughs. Instead he allowed the thoughts to pass and walked towards the main hall, calling for Pearl to take over. Pearl eagerly put down her mop and bucket and limped behind the bar excited to do anything other than mop up the mud or other peoples messes.
In the main hall Jonas found a seat at the corner table where the scholars books used to be. Nowadays, he often sat there watching the few who would come in and out. More than often he would stare beyond the people of the present and remember the past; for those memories were far sweeter to him. It felt like just yesterday he was laughing and conspiring with Chet to scare Marcy with a wrapped up dead fish; but that was almost five years ago. The present times felt far less interesting to Jonas, and how could it not be? So much had changed and the strange and quirky place that Jonas had grown to love deteriorated into a simple and uneventful watering hole for transient workers traveling from one province to the next. He would occasionally see a welcome familiar face pass through, but most of his friends had either moved on to other parts of the world, or were so busy in their lands that they never had time or need to visit the Proper.
He wondered how long he would stay here, before he gave up on it as well. Perhaps he would pack up and sail to the isle of Rinn Quinill Nurbonis to live out an easy and lavish life, in fact why hadn’t he, he often thought. Why stay here?
A loud thunk on the table awoke Jonas from his dreaming. “Here you go boss” gruffed Hardwin, a burly goon on Jonas’s payroll. “The Sirens Apothecary was short this week, so I told them we isn’t no charity and they’d better pay triple next month” Hardwin was twice the size of a normal man with only one good tooth and a brimmed hat. He worked as the Inns bouncer, whenever he wasn’t out making the rounds.
Jonas grabbed the pouch of coin and spilled it on the table to count it. “Go grab yourself a whisky and a bed for the night” ordered Jonas. Hardy tipped his hat in response and walked past into the bar room. Things had gotten so boring around town Jonas resorted to some good old fashion merchant extortion to pass the time and drum up some excitement. All the merchants in the proper would pay a fee just small enough to not cause too much unrest, and he made sure they would fear reporting him to the authorities far more than the loss of coin. Not much he thought, but its honest work…
Late at night when all the patrons would leave or go to bed, Jonas would break out his personal stock and drink heavily until he passed out. His thoughts were darker at night and when ten drinks in. It was during these times, that his feelings of abandonment would surface and have its way with his mind. For almost two decades a being of power found him worthy of its attention, and out of the blue, one night it was over and it had left him. When something that great enters your life and is suddenly gone, it creates a hole that’s seems impossible to fill. No amount of time that passes seems to fill the void. He sometimes felt abandoned by the Heroes of Travance, at least when drunk, though when sober a measured mind knew there was simply no longer a reason for most of them to stay, so once again he would wonder why did he? Jonas threw back another shot of londwynian whisky and rested his head down on the table. He closed his eyes and drowned out his thoughts by listening to the sounds of the ghosts in his mind.
From the journal of Captain Oakley the Inked/Oakley Greenblood/Oakley Rudnare
Date: uh?? Its sunnee?
Evereeones gone and flew to the seven winds, they have. Arigoth says we shud be thankfull fur this moment of peace, but I don’t bye it, not fur halfa coppur. If theres aneething I’ve learned in my life, its dat peace don’t last longer den it takes to say the word. Heed my warnings, anee day now the ground will tremble beneeth our feet and sum demunspawn will try n swallow us up, I just kno it. I wanna be wrong, sure, I wanna have peace but lordy lou is it hard to have much faith in that sorta thing when you’ve spent so long livin in Gaaldron than Travance…
But still. Arigoth’s smile is too sweet to argue against, and if there’s gonna be SUM wee bit of peace, might as well take advantage of it, aye? So we’re gonna have our wedding! Gotta get while the gettings good and make an honest man out of that big green oaf afturall! We wanted it on Saint Astrid’s day, he bein a man of Andora's cloth and all, but Travance has a bad habit of a bloody affair outta most weddings, so if times be as “peaceful” as dey say, well, who knos when we’ll get this oppoortuneaty again!
Date: three weeks aftur MY WEDDING!!
IM OFISHALLIE A MARRIED WOMAN! Nevah thought I’d be so happee to have a ball and chain around my ankle! Sorree fur not writing sooner, I’m onlee now just getting ovur the ol’ “Honeymoon Hangover”, ona count of sum weird “treats” I was given at the reception…
We had the seremonee on the Feverfew and of course it was beautifull--and since he’s a priest and I’m a captain, we married ourselves to eachothur! Cut out the middleman we did! That big soft rosebud blubbered and happee cried the entire time. Cant say I blame him, I’d cry two if I was marrying sumbodee as beautifull and as good in bed as me! …. I cried a bunch two. The man nearly died and the world nearly ended and I thought I’d never get to see him again or tell him I loved him!! So what if I shed a tear or two-- I don’t need to explain myself to you! Yer a book I nicked frum Varkelby’s study! You aint nothing!! Fuck you!!
…Aneeway, the party was at The Half Pint, to the depths with paying for a “venue” on MY wedding day when I gots one alreadee, ya kno? Eveeone was invited, of course, though it ached my heart to see sum emptee chairs…
Hopefullie if this truly be peacefull times, I wont have two worree about losing friends aneemore.
Speaking of friends, met a few strange fellas I aint ever seen before, least I don’t think I have. No surprise really, The Half Pint’s almost as popular as yours trulee! Funnee folk they were, talked about the “pleasures of life” and “wonderous indulgance” and hedonism and debaucheree and stuff like that…then they gave me those weird “treats” I mentioned befur. …Dunno why I wrote “treats”, I meant drugs. They were drugs. They gave me drugs. Powerful drugs.
Honestly I cant really remember much about them once they started putting drinks and snuff under my nose… just voices and colors and weird visions. Arigoth says he didn’t see anyeeone, but he was rubbin elbows with his old priest pals, so maybee he just didn’t notice them…
Date: the winds are chillier now and the moon's full
Moved Ibn's grave to the catacombs undur Arigoth's church since we've been traveling to Coasthaven and back fur awhile now. I kno he'd hate being put in a temple of love but I've been tendin the Temple of the Yellow Rose more often then I've been tending the pub, since my customers have been waning with the peace times, so I dont get to see him as often as I used two... plus, with all my weird dreams latelee I miss havin sumone scarier than the sea's wrath on my side. Arigoth and I are talkin about moving to Coasthaven proper. Wait...is Coasthaven in Travance or is they two different cities? Is Travance a city? A county? Wots the difference between a county and a country?
I need a drink...
Date: A day latur
Sum regulars at the pub told me wot the difference is! ...Can't remembur fur the life of me wot they said though. Im pretty sure that, at the very least, Travance is a place.
Date: ???
More weird dreams again. I shud try and write them down aftur I get them so I can remember the details proper. Are they still dreams when they happen during the daytime?
They're not bad, mind you, in fact they're awful fun! I get a good crowd and we get up to no good fur hours or days at a time! Arigoth's a touch worried, but this izznt the first time I've heard voices aftur snorting weird dust off a stranger's neck, so I'm sure it's fine.
Date: Late fall I think… I dunno why I’m keepin track, nobodee else is readin this…
Peace is still going strong, believe it or not! Varkelby found out I stole you from him and stole you right back, the little theiving rat!! Thankfully I re-stole you and here we are! Bastard ripped sum of the pages out though, the ones where I tried describing my dreams. He said they were "sexually grotesque", "morally repugnant" and "crude". Luckee fur him I don't know what anyee of those words mean so I cant get proper mad.
Ofishiallee moved the pub to Coasthaven. I got stiff competition hear but with tits like these I get customers just fine.
Date: Aboutta year since I started this damned thing. A year and change.
Arigoth and I are back in Coasthaven full-time now, and as wonderfull as married life is.. being a captain in the navy don’t really mean much if there’s no reason FUR a navy. I’m startin to get a liddle antsy, sure I got Arigoth and his church and our house and the bar to tend… but I’m now realizing I’ve built so much of my identity off of adventuring and saving folk, that I don’t kno what to do with myself with all this extra free time. Maybee I shud start painting again, or build an extension to the pub, or maybee I’ll stretch my itchy fingers and dust off my lock picking set and make a little extra coin…
or maybee I’ll get pissshit drunk and have amazing sex with my hot hunky orc husband.
Date: A few hours later? Maybee?
I did the last thing. It was pretty great. Shit got a little crazy when we shared some satyr wine, though, I had those weird hallucinations again. Weirder than usual, I mean.
Arigoth and I talked aftur our pretty awsome sex and he says I shudn’t go back to stealing since its “wrong” and stuff. Says I shud keep spending my free time hanging out with those fellas I got along with so well at our reception? I told him I haven’t seen those guys since the wedding but he insists I’ve seen them twice aftur? Apparently they gave us the satyr wine? I mean, I black out sumtimes sure, but usually not so often. Maybee my age is finally getting to me…
Date: Two daze later
Ate some REALLY good chicken today!
Laric // Future For a long and lingering moment, there was no sound, naught but that his mind could conjure up on its own: the scuttling of some minute creature pitter-pattering within the floorboards raised hackles; the creak of far-away floorboards a warning of his imminent capture. Were it not for the circumstances, he’d be reveling in the thrill; It’s been a long time since he’s had to evade capture. He’s gotten too used to having the upper hand in fight-or-flight situations, and then later not having a hand to play. He’s out of practice, and if it weren’t so damned inconvenient, it might’ve been something like fun.
As it stood however, he had places to be, and-
“-you say you haven’t seen him?” Reiterated a gruff, impatient voice.
“You are aware the particulars of my employ under the great Kingdom of Kormyre do involve apprehending and submitting criminals to the guard,” replied a sharp, too-sweet tone.
He grins.
-things to do.
Heavily-booted feet shuffle on otherwise sturdy boards above his head.
“Ma’am-” “Dame,” snipes the second voice,
“Dame, please, my compatriot means no offence, only that we pursued the scoundrel this far in-land, and we have reason to believe he’s in the area. We must make a sweep of every house. This check-in is not an attack upon your person,” a third voice, softer, more inexperienced than the first, attempts to placate the offended homeowner.
“He’s laden with goods taken from a ship - the Pentacle, a merchant vessel - so if you happen to see-” “I am well aware what to look for, guardsman,” snaps the Dame, icy and impolitic now as she had been pressed beyond her limits of patience, “or had you no idea whose home and privacy you so intruded upon?”
There’s a half-moment’s uncomfortable tension before the guardsmen finish their business in equal-parts muttered and placating tones. The next noises he hears above the shuffle of feet and clank of armor is the front door, opening and closing only ever-too-forcefully.
He scarcely breathes, waiting for the sound of all invasion to dissipate. He bites down on a finger of his burned, scarred, but otherwise unmarked left hand - an unfortunate habit carried over from when he wore those leather gloves to hide the old marks, now the source of some little annoyance with himself - listening to heeled shoes click softly now, above him, shuffling to the room adjacent - the kitchen - and a tired sigh is heard.
Moments later, the cellar door opens accompanied by a sharp swath of natural light.
“You can come out now, I know you’re down there.”
He grins sheepishly as he presents himself to the knight with the high ground on him who only stares imperiously at his presence.
“You look wonderful,” he announces to his sister, who in fact always does, but especially so today in her formal dress.
Elysia sniffs, the only tell in an expression full of otherwise apathetic distaste.
“You’ve got dust on your sleeves,” she snipes.
He clutches theatrically at his heart as he makes his way up the stairs, reassured that he’s not in trouble.
“Would you help brush me down? This is a brand new coat after all,” he pleads, eyelashes batting with maximum charm. She pivots on her heel and leaves him to pat himself down as he emerges into the light, hissing- again, for the theatrics of it all. He looks up and she’s perched upon a stool, staring him down.
“What?”
“Care to explain why you’re here, and with so little warning?” He shrugs.
“Navy tipped off the guards I was on my way up the little spit-offs from the Trallion after I docked the Night Divine at Bordertown, as far as I can guess. Knew you lived in the area, and I’ve got to be in the city in an hour. Truly, I had no other option,” he sighs with such drama as to make her roll her eyes.
“Oh yes, what good fortune you just so happened to be in the area,” she scoffs, but they’re both starting to grin.
“And I suppose you’ll be leaving your ill-gotten gains here?” “Please?” he bats his eyelashes again. She sighs the sigh of the eternally put-upon.
“Three days.” “Five?”
“Three.”
“Deal!” he claps, already slipping toward the door.
He pauses on the threshold, an earnest quality coming over his expression.
“See you at the reception?” he asks. Elysia grins.
“Yes, little brother.”
Laric grins wide and unburdened in response, winking at her before sliding away into the morning, richly embellished wedding coat fluttering in the wake of his steps.
Chud Larsson – Warrel Trow Finds a Story Warrel Trow stumbled into the moonlit clearing, shivering stiffly beneath the furs binding his limbs. He shuffled through the snowdrifts like a perverse straw doll, buffeted by winds. This place matched the descriptions. Big clearing, one conifer, cliff face with a crack in it. He'd traipsed through every trading post and tavern north of the rift. The further north he got, the more likely he was to hear mutterings of Chud. Eventually, after a few coins, those mutterings became directions. And they had led him here. A frozen clearing so far north the days stopped, and the night stretched on for months. Half frozen, Warrel Trow crept through the crack in the cliff. Inside, he found a channel, side walls hollowed by years of howling wind. Gusts buffeted Trow, guiding him down the natural corridor. As he exited, he found a ravine, walls carved out into a courtyard, and a wide doorway with a fire burning inside. By a small pool, a hulking figure stooped, a slender fishing spear dipped in its silvery surface. A furtive twitch of his arm, and spraying from the water came a twitching flexing whiskered fish, eyes pale and unblinking, mouth gulping breathless air. "Eh, excuse me sir," Trow called through chattering jaws "Are you the one known as Chud?" Looking up from his quarry, the mass of hair and shoulders replied "That's me name. You look cold." "I can't feel my fingers" "Well come inside, mister, got a stew going. Yer more than welcome to some." Trow followed him into the doorway. Inside it was warm, and dry. The smell of lemongrass wafted through the air. A vast array of insect chitin plates were piled in a corner, and a smooth cauldron sat in a firepit full of embers, softly bubbling. Mounted to a wall was an angular slab of metal with a handle. "Keep yer voice down, don't wanna wake the kiddies up." a low frequency rumble bounced softly off the stone walls. Chud ladled stew into a stone bowl. "Now, why have you come here?" "Did you know that tell of your monster slayings stretches from here to Travance?" "I spent some time in Travance" "I sir, am a writer." "A what-now" "A writer. I tell stories. Ooh this stew is good, what's in it." "Crawler." "What do you mean." "A crawler. You ain't seen one?" Chud gestured in the direction of the pile of insect chitin. Trow uncomfortably swallowed. Chud chuckled, a low thumping sound. "Do you need help around here?" "S'pose I could use a hand. Not sure what yer good for, though, southfolk don't take to the cold up here." "I've got the furs. And I'll pull my own weight I swear it. I want to tell the story of one of your slayings. And I'm willing to wait until you find a good one." "Well, we're harvesting cabbages pon the morrow. It's hard work, and the kids keep gettin out o hand." "Happy to help any way I can."
Verrill Lebastion - Guilty Pleasure Xualla danced with a smooth pace around the crystalline ballroom of Sevenlore- hooves and flaming feet dancing upon the ghost river- hands locked in Vim's gentle grip. His stygian eyes were perfect as they twirled about the chamber. Weeks ago the Hellprince couldn't imagine the peace he felt in the gaze of the ancient evil, nor the safety he felt with his hands in his-
"Hah-!" Verrill called out, pointing to the scene contained in the shimmering sphere,"Ms. Lebastion, look what I found-! 1 in 100,000,000- borderline edge of the finite curve-! Remember Xualla-!? I found a timeline wh-" A sound of exasperation as a frying pan whipped across the chronal-bed-and-breakfast. He ducked as he had 1,000 times before. The mithril pan panged against the houseplant which tittered and scuttled away. Time didn't matter here, but for her it always seemed to be 3 am and she was always trying to sleep. He'd tried to find any vision, any theater of their shared experience to free her from this state, but little seemed to satisfy. The chronomancer gave a tired breath. He was alone tonight. He didn't enjoy being alone so he sought out an old comfort. Verrill shifted the glass to a familiar show- a play he watched when alone. He thought most would find it dull- pedestrian- but to him it was the time his friends were happy, safe, and satisfied. There were variations and that made his dozens of viewings pleasant. The vision began- Jonas was alone in the inn, feeling sorry for himself. Verrill sat back with a bottle of something red and bitter, in the familiar comfort he had watching this timeline 100s of times prior, "I hope no one burns down Valdalas this time." He was happy, This time his friends would be safe and happy.... maybe...
Serr Thomas Bell - Last Rat Standing "Gotta be a good man- there's too many bad ones." Granny Esther's words set a pace- One raw hand over the next, each catching on cutting stone. Pull