A Mountain of (Story) Treasure
First of all: wow! A huge thank you goes out to David Bowers—writer for All The World’s a Stage at WoW Insider—for giving Compass Studies a nod (and some unexpected exposure!). For those that have stopped by, I thank you and hope that you become a regular reader of this blog of helpful tips, stories and other fun things that revolve around roleplaying in Warcraft. Enjoy the ride!
I’m sure everyone has one of these around. Anyone who has ever written has one of these. Those unfinished stories you set out on writing, but then you ran out of steam. That, or you set it aside to work on later, and then just completely forgot about its existence until months (or even years) later. It’s amazing how much a little time can do when you open them months later, read them, and find hints and glints of inspiration from them for future RP. In some cases, you wonder why you never finished it in the first place. But, that’s beyond the point here.
So, I challenge you readers to pull up your writing folder and find a story blurb. Post them if you’re feeling brave enough! Find anything that catches your eyes?
I’ve actually come across a bunch that were actually written out a little over a year ago. But this blurb about my mage (who actually wasn’t an RP character at the time), was the one that left me pleasantly surprised out of all of them, because I expected something else quite different with her personality—yet it felt (and still feels) right.
“…coming to now.” There was something cold and metallic poking and prodding into her left arm. Hngh? Into?
She tried to jump out of the rack, but found out she was restrained as she was easily pushed back onto the stone table. However, the outburst did surprise the small group surrounding her as they murmured amongst one another. The woman strained herself to listen to their words—efforts rewarded when she managed to pick out one of the compliments amongst the din.
“Mhmm. Lively. You’ve done well, Enivare.”
She heard the faint sweeping of cloth dragging across the ground before hearing his voice—cool and composed. “I always do good work.”
Ngh. Where am I? She brought her hands to her face—expecting to run her fingers through strands of hair. Instead, what she felt was oily and slick. There was something covering her face as her fingers felt at the thin strips of material—trying to tear them away. I can’t… see…
“Oh. There’s no use removing those,” Enivare (or at least, she thought it was) muttered as she felt her nails being pulled away from her face. “Those weren’t there when we found you.”
She stopped and turned her head towards the source of the voice. Found me? “What the hell are you—”
“Be quiet,” he instructed. “There will be time for questions later. One such as you still holds use for the Dark Lady.”