Active Plots (Alphabetical) - Updated 8/21/2010

Can't I Have Any Time? - (Eruantion Doriath [?], Amonost Doriath [?])

End of Solitude - (Verda Stelo [?])

No More Grape Soda - (Alex Dean [?], Samuel Jorgenson [?], Leon Mecheeto [?])

Questionable Means - (Tawny Black [?], Ishkan Ma'z)

Author	Comment
Valerie Fas'nvak Ex-tournament fighter/ ninja accountant Dominion Master 5/26/2008 12:38:43 AM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 126	"4220" or "Freaking Story With Character Development" (This is a solo story. Please don't join!) Something horrible happened. The world faded in... barely. Everything a blur. She felt sick. There was... blood all over. All over her. The world became pain. She was lying on her stomach; the urge to roll over and try to see what happened was strong. Somehow she knew it was a very bad idea. She followed the urge anyway. She could feel the intense pain in her left arm already. She hadn't realized that she was incapable of moving it. She pushed with the other and managed to move, rolling onto her back with a cry. The world continued to swirl and blur. She blinked and squinted, to little avail. It looked like... a church, but something was horribly wrong. The place was in shambles. Nothing at all seemed familiar. Not just the church... nothing was coming to her. Nothing at all. As far as she was concerned, her existence began about two minutes ago. She clenched her teeth and pushed the pain away as she surveyed the building. Some part of her mind told her not to look at her own wounds—it would only make it worse. Her vision cleared. The pair of legs came into focus. That was it. A pair of legs. Nothing on top of them. Just legs. A mess, sitting on the floor of the ruined church. Something... unholy happened here and she was fairly concerned she had something to do with it, especially since she didn't seem very physically disturbed by the display of gore in front of her. It terrified her, obviously, but she expected more vomit. There was none, and this terrified her more. She had to get help. Without thinking, she took the two daggers from the floor. She decided to stand. There was no try—it was her decision to stand and by God she was going to carry it out. And she stood. She stumbled, but caught herself, adjusting her weight. She placed one foot in front of the other, and repeated this action until she reached the large double doors at the other end of the church. One of them had been knocked clean off the hinge, and she walked through the opening. There was a road. She somehow made it to the middle of it. And that was enough. She fell down.
Valerie Fas'nvak Ex-tournament fighter/ ninja accountant Dominion Master 5/26/2008 3:33:36 PM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 126	RE: "4220" or "Freaking Story With Character Development" As all terribly wounded amnesiacs inevitably do, she awoke in a bed in a strange place. Not strange in that it looked strange, she just didn't know the place, which is a superfluous statement because she didn't know any place at this point in time. It was a bedroom, morning sunlight barely peaking through the blinds, but reflecting off of the plain white sheetrock walls to offer enough light to see the room. Everything seemed very clean and orderly, in stark contrast to the last place she awoke. It was comfortable. Her left arm itched fiercely. She recalled that was the one she couldn't move, and looked at it. It was wrapped an inch thick in bandages, all the way up over her shoulder, and she could see the lump of a splint beneath it. She accepted it. Tentatively, she lifted one leg slightly, then the other. They didn't seem to hurt. Carefully, she moved herself up the bed and tried sitting up. There was some pain in her ribs, but nothing she couldn't deal with. She leaned back against the headboard and sighed. It occurred to her that she hasn't yet heard or seen anybody. She looked toward the opposite side of the room, where the door sat half-way open. She wasn't sure why she made note of this. Did she expect to have been locked in? She reached for the window to her right and spread the slats of the blinds. There was a grassy yard, and woods beyond it. Like everything else she'd seen so far, it seemed clean and nicely maintained. She barely noticed the noise—a slight creak in the floor, over by the door. Despite this, her head snapped toward the door and she reached for... she didn't know what. She was reaching with her right arm to her left side, at the waist. A weapon? Regardless, she had none. A man's head poked through the partly open doorway. He seemed surprised when she was looking directly at him; rather intently, at that. He got an uneasy look on his face. Man: Uh... Morning. She hesitated. Woman: ... Morning. This seemed to put the man at ease. He opened the door and stepped in. He was an average-sized man, mid-twenties or so, wearing a T-shirt and blue jeans. Somehow he looked trustworthy. Man: How are you feeling? Woman: I'm... okay. What... She looked at herself; her bandaged self. Woman: What... happened? Man: You, uh, don't remember the past few days you've been here, right? She looked back at him and blinked in surprise. Woman: No. Man: Yeah, you seemed out of it. He walked over and sat in the chair by the bed. Man: As for what happened... er, you got me. I found you layin' in the road in front of a church. Figured you were dead at first, you were pretty screwed up. I was planning on taking you to a hospital but... something told me not to. It didn't sound like "something" was just his conscience or... whatever. It tugged at her curiosity. Woman: ... Something...? Man: Yeah, I don't know. He shrugged. Something seemed to be bothering him about it. She let it go. Man: So... I brought you here. I was a doctor's assistant for a while, so I'm pretty handy at general treatment, I suppose. He gestured at her bandaged self. She nodded. Woman: How long have I been here? Man: Uh, three days. She was surprised. She certainly didn't feel like a three day recovery three days ago. Apparently she put her surprise on her face, because the man noticed. Man: Yeah, no clue how you're healing so fast. Either I'm better at this than I thought or you're a really fast healer. Or both. He smiled. Man: So, anything I can do? You hungry? Thirsty? Woman: Uh, yes. Man: What do you want? She paused and blinked. Woman: I dunno. Man: Well, I've got cereal... oatmeal... I could make waffles. She shook her head. Woman: I don't know. The man's brow furrowed. Man: You don't remember, huh? She shook her head. Man: Well, you did have some head wounds... Alright. You'll probably like waffles. You've been eating oatmeal for three days. Woman: I didn't even know I've been eating. Man: Well, you certainly wouldn't have healed this fast without eating. He stood up. Man: Well, I'll be back in a bit. He left, leaving the door open. She watched him leave, then the empty doorway for a moment. She turned and opened the blinds.
Valerie Fas'nvak Ex-tournament fighter/ ninja accountant Dominion Master 5/31/2008 1:55:34 AM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 126	RE: "4220" or "Freaking Story With Character Development" She sighed, putting off thinking about her missing past. She surmised it would be very frustrating. So she determined to be content sitting and staring out the window, until she wasn't content sitting because she felt like she'd been in this bed for three days—which she had, but she was unconscious for a vast majority of that time, so it shouldn't matter. She sighed again, more heavily. Surely the man wouldn't mind if she got up and left the room, so she got up and proceeded to the doorway. It struck her immediately how white the house was. White sheetrock walls, white stucco ceiling, and white tile. She glanced at the carpet of the bedroom, which was not white, but close enough, at a light beige. And it was all very clean. It was almost creepy. She stepped carefully onto the cold tile, letting her bare feet adjust. Well, at least one memory came back: she hated tile floors. She turned toward the nearby end of the narrow hall, leading up into the open living space. She approached it. She could smell something. Obviously, she didn't recognize the smell. She sniffed and continued walking. Kitchen to the right. Man standing there staring at the timer on the counter. He looked at her. Her nose continued to wrinkle as she sniffed overzealously. Man: It doesn't smell that bad, does it? Woman: What is it? Man: Waffles. You don't remember what waffles smell like? Woman: I guess I do now. Man: Uh-huh. She took a seat on a stool on the other side of the kitchen counter. The man stopped his timer. Man: You're right on time. He opened the waffle iron and deposited its contents onto a plate, sliding it over to the woman. With it, he slid a small bottle of dark, viscous liquid. Man: Real maple syrup. Were you a man, it would put hair on your chest, but you're not, so we can hope otherwise. She blinked. Man: It'll restore your mana, too. She blinked again. He shook his head, silently conveying a "forget it." She accepted and began to work on the waffle, sans syrup. She found it to be rather enjoyable. The man got to work pouring more batter into the waffle iron and clamping it down. Woman: So, what's your name? Man: Damon. Uh, Cross. Woman: Damon Cross? Damon: Mm-hm. I don't know you, so it wouldn't ring any bells. She nodded.
Valerie Fas'nvak Ex-tournament fighter/ ninja accountant Dominion Master 12/12/2008 3:02:00 PM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 126	RE: "4220" or "Freaking Story With Character Development" The woman picked up her plate and stood up from the stool, turning away from Damon, studying the house. Domed light fixtures hung on cables from the angled ceiling, but they weren't on now. Almost the entire curved front of the house was glass, allowing the morning sun to flood in and reflect off of the white tile, lighting the entire chamber. There were two steps and an unnecessary railing separating the rear of the house, including the kitchen area, from the slightly lowered living area, covered in a deep blue carpet, with a couch in the center and an entertainment center on the opposite wall, on the only part of the front wall that wasn't a window. Damon noticed her studying his home. He closed the waffle iron, set his timer, and turned to her, leaning on the counter. Damon: You know, I have no idea why I have this huge place. Woman: I like it. She stepped onto the carpet. It felt untravelled, the fibers reaching up between her toes. Damon: So, hey. The woman turned back toward him, biting down on a piece of waffle. Damon: I take it you don't remember your name. She scowled at the floor. She'd been focusing on what a nice house it was instead of thinking about that. Taking that to mean he shouldn't have said anything, he turned back to the waffle iron. Damon: Look, I've got to, um, go to work in about an hour. He removed the last waffle from the iron and put it on his own plate, unplugging the iron from the wall outlet and stepping out of the kitchen as he spoke. Damon: If you want to go anywhere or... need to get anything, let me know. Oh, or if you don't want to stay here by yourself, I... no, nevermind. He bit his lower lip and held a look at the woman. Damon: Look, I'm not going to be back for a couple days. And I hate to leave you here by yourself, but... The woman raised an eyebrow. Woman: I... think I can handle myself. Damon thought about her statement for a moment before responding. Damon: You sure? Woman: No. Damon blinked. Damon: There's not really anything I can do, so if you're okay with it... Just... He sighed. Damon: You're not going to steal my stuff, are you? The woman frowned. Woman: Well, I wasn't going to, but now that you mention it... She smirked. Damon paused for a moment, then laughed. He seemed to be a bit more at ease now. Damon: Well, whatever. There's plenty in the fridge. Cereal in the cupboard. He pointed respectively to the places he mentioned. Damon: And, well, if you like movies, there's plenty. He pointed at the TV, completely overlooking that the woman may not remember, or ever have known, how to operate a television and a Blu-Ray player.
Valerie Fas'nvak Ex-tournament fighter/ ninja accountant Dominion Master 3/17/2010 3:36:23 PM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 126	RE: "4220" or "Freaking Story With Character Development" Damon made a pretty big ordeal out of his departure. The woman wondered if he was only worried about her stealing his stuff, or if he was actually concerned for her wellbeing. She thought she would do fine alone, but after he left and the house was quiet, she realized that she was left inside her own head, with nothing to think about but the past two hours that she could remember and the ten minutes she could remember from whenever that was that she woke up in the cathedral wreckage. She felt strongly like she should remember what happened in the cathedral, like she just had to pull the curtain aside and it would be right there, but for some reason, the curtain wouldn't move. She could picture the place perfectly, too perfectly to only remember being there for ten minutes, but there was nothing else. She curled up on the living room couch for almost an hour, running imaginary fingers over her few memories, trying to find the cracks to open them and get to whatever was inside, but it just wasn't working. Feeling almost exhausted after the long trek within her mind, she opted to return to the real world. She found herself staring at the carpet with an odd uneasiness that, frustratingly, she also could not place. She put one foot down on the floor tentatively, then stood up and walked to the windows. The summer sun and the sprawling carpet of green grass seemed rather inviting. She stepped through the door and absentmindedly strolled into the woods.
Valerie Fas'nvak Ex-tournament fighter/ ninja accountant Dominion Master 3/20/2010 1:51:31 AM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 126	RE: "4220" or "Freaking Story With Character Development" Her legs were a little stiff from several days in bed, and her ribs were still sore, depending on how she moved, but she felt like walking was exactly what she needed. A soft dirt trail only about wide enough for an ATV—and with the parallel ruts to suggest that's exactly what it was used for—cut through the woods. She stayed along this path, though she could have easily navigated the woods, being a practically brushless pine forest. Her daze was broken only once to briefly consider she didn't know where she was going, but she didn't know where she'd been either, so it didn't matter, and she slipped back into her semi-contented daze and continued walking. Some half an hour later, she found herself standing at the bank of a large, round pool at the base of a waterfall of considerable size. It seemed like a good place to stop. She walked across the shallow edge of the pool and across the rocks, climbing on top of a particularly large and flat rock jutting out of the rippling surface. She fell in love with the place instantly. She lay back on the rock, feeling the cool, damp surface against her back and listening to the rush of the waterfall plunging through the pool's surface. She stared into the sky, and was surprised when it seemed rather suddenly that it was darker and had turned into streaks of purple, red, and orange. She considered just staying here for the night until her stomach audibly disagreed. She climbed back to the shore and walked back to the house, which didn't seem to take as long as the walk out had. She walked inside and searched for a light switch in the ever darkening house. After she had found them and flipped them on, she considered it odd that she remembered light switches. She stared at it for a second and decided that it wasn't that odd, since she remembered things like food, how to walk, clothes, and other such things that humans take for granted. She just didn't remember anything that ever happened. Her brow tightened and she continued to stare at the light switch. She still wasn't in the mood to try to remember. She realized that she had forgotten to do something and looked quickly away from the light switch. Without really thinking about it, she walked over to the door and locked it while simultaneously scanning the room for anything that seemed at all out of place. It all seemed exactly how she had remembered it. She wasn't familiar with any of the rest of the house except for the bed room in which she had awoken. Could there be anybody else there? She took a steak knife from the kitchen, concealing it in her hand, and checked the other rooms of the house one by one. It was empty. She felt a tightness leave her chest. If she knew one thing about herself now, it was that she liked waterfalls and was paranoid.

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