Post by Shihab on Mar 6, 2011 15:24:54 GMT -5
So we've all fleshed out a little bit of a bio for our characters in the profile, but I'm sure there's a great deal in each of our minds that didn't fit into the bio. After all, the premise of the game is taking a character who was very much the Speshulest Snowflake in their life, and dropping them into an environment where there is no main protagonist. Some of the characters are actually from an Original universe, if I recall.
That said, what little anecdotes and more prosaic bits of your character's backstory didn't make it in? Do you have any definite idea of what happened to catalyze them into coming to SDA? If so, have you written it?
When SDA went down for a few months, I started messing around in Shihab's background and wondering how he actually found out about his father. He's not an original fiction piece, but writing him was actually quite fun. Thus, here's my little contribution, unfinished as it is.
---
Shihab glanced up through the chink in the ceiling, whispering a prayer to whatever unknown powers might be lurking in the open sky. He wasn't sure how he kept getting into these situations-- surely, it couldn't have been intentional. He hoped.
"Oi, you've had enough time to prepare!" shouted Geoff from the doorway. "Let's get to it, unless you're backin' out!" A quieter comment drew laughter from the other boys.
Geoff, he thought, somewhat bitterly. Why didn't they pick on his name, anyway? It was different enough. Though, it must be admitted, it wasn't Shihab's name that garnered attention, but his lack of one - notably, a surname. Which meant, of course, that he was fair game, and- no, no time to think about that now. He had a bet to win. With a deep breath and a sudden grin, he stepped out of the ruined shack, laughing. The group stood waiting; they were mostly between 13 and 14, and all looked subtly older than him by now, Shihab noted grimly. He'd have to be moving on soon. But for now...
He pulled off his shirt and walked up to the little punt, flanked by Leron and Ahmed. The other six boys hung back, watching, talking quietly. As they paddled out into the river, Shihab stretched his limbs carefully, bringing his mind into a quiet, meditative state. When they were about sixty feet out, Ahmed and Leron stopped rowing, and the boat spun slowly in place, drifting loose. In unison at first, they began to slap at the water, but the calls from the shore threw them off and things became a chaotic din rather quickly. Shihab wished they wouldn't do that-- things would happen on their own time, without stirring up. He knew that from long, long experience-- and before the idiots could draw more attention to himself, he stepped up onto the edge with one foot, and leapt out into the water like a coiled spring. It was murky as hell, he noted - or, quite possibly, the beginning of Hell itself, he thought, whirling all the while, searching for movement among the depths... there. Somewhere below, towards the riverbed, a stir in the mud. He was glad, then, that his eyes had never been bothered by dirt in the water. With a wild, veering flourish, he pushed upwards to gulp a huge lungful of air. This was a trick he could not use, he'd learned - he had to breathe, during the challenges. To do otherwise tended to end badly. He was about twenty feet from the boat, he saw. Cursing inwardly at the timing, he swam a few strokes off; these things were big, and fought ugly. He couldn't risk Ahmed or Leron getting hurt.
He heard clearly, then, the now familiar snarl of primeval fury - not anger, but something far less cultivated. Quickly - all too quickly - the monster followed. Shihab nearly opened his mouth in shock, for this was indeed a monster. The eyes seemed to shine in the murky water like lamps, and the head was about one-third the length of his body, and thicker in places than he was.
With a deft twist, he managed to avoid the first charge, but was not quite fast enough to grab hold after, before it swept by.The croc whirled again, with impossible speed, and this time the teeth grazed his side on their way - but he managed to do a sort of underwater vault over it, using both hands to lift himself over the snapping jaws, using the beast's own snout for leverage. But he had a hold this time, and just managed to turn his body on the crocodile's neck, ensuring he could see where they were headed-- yes! Towards the shore, as he'd hoped. Shoving with all his might, he held the writhing croc on course, hoped it would keep the momentum.
The total silence of the following moment was strange - it took him a few beats to realize that the roaring, raging, furious noise of the crocodile's voice had ceased.
The noise, as sharp and rough as a mouthful as sand, clear as the glass it melted to, shocked him out of concentration for a moment, and he lost his grip on the rough hide. In the split second remaining, as he fumbled for balance of any kind, the Beast rolled over in the water, throwing him completely. They were deeper - and closer - than he'd thought, and he felt his back slam against the river bottom painfully. The massive jaws came half a moment later, raking his flesh and gouging deep tears in his torso as he rolled over, fighting desperately to get free from the claws and mud.
What the hell was this? Shihab scrabbled for a hold on the ground, pushing himself forward as hard as he could. The huge claw slammed into his back a split second after his head broke into the air, pinning him back to the river. He heard, distantly, the human din, and the splash of a monstrous tail behind him-- but that, he'd known.
And the claw dug painfully into his flesh and dragged, rolling him over. He opened his mouth, then, and with a wild roar of his own and nothing left to lose in this fight, thrashed desperately, crazily, and broke through to the surface once again, for a brief moment of confusing noise and blinding light. One hand freed by his gamble, he shoved as hard as his strength would allow at the weight above him, and, to the crowd and croc's surprise, it slid partway off. He kicked hard, holding fast to the other leg with his pinned arm, and bore them both half out of the water. The croc's tail lashed hard, dragging them both down again, but Shihab stabbed his free arm hard straight down, gaining him another moment of purchase on the ground. With a final kick, carefully coordinated to the tail's motion, he pulled them both back up, repeating until they both lay, breathless and tangled on the bank, as duelers or lovers or the endless forces of Sun and Night. There was along moment of utter silence, before the crocodile breathed once more, and Shihab twisted out from under it, back-crawling as hard as he could, heedless of his wounds, before he collapsed back onto the ground. After what seemed an eternity, those intense yellow eyes turned away, and the great beast slid back into the water, leaving its opponent on the shore.
It was only after he'd lost sight of even the profile that he realized he was bleeding in several places, and bruised just about everywhere else. With an effort, he held still while Geoff tore the shirt he'd left ashore into strips, and washed the silt out of his wounds with handfuls of river-water. When the cloth was tied over, he managed to concentrate enough to hold his blood into the wounds, keeping it in his body. It wouldn't do to let himself die here, at the hands of... whatever that had been. After a few hours of talk, excited, curious, and somewhat disbelieving in cases, he was able to follow them home on his own feet, and crawled gratefully into his pallet in the dockhouse.
The next morning, strangely enough, his wounds had closed, but not healed on their own. Shihab decided he was officially curious about this fight. But he'd have to be wary; this whole experience was... new. It was about a week before the gouges on his stomach had turned to pale, deep scars, and a little longer for the clawprint on his back. He had a suspicion he'd be stuck with them - that fact alone had him thinking pretty hard. He'd been doing this since he was fifteen - probably at least thirty years now, for all he still looked like he was just finishing adolescence. The cuts were always healed the next morning, and scars... he'd never had a mark last longer than a month. But the truly strange part about the whole deal was the speech, he had to admit. If that was what it had been, actually... he had his doubts.
When he'd had enough of wondering, and his wounds had fully healed, he finally went back, right around the first light of dawn - alone, this time. He approached more slowly, more carefully. Before he could lose his nerve, he stepped into the water - barefoot, as before, and in a breechcloth only. He walked steadily in, willing his heart to slow back to a somewhat normal pace. When he was up to his chest, he slowly sat down, cross-legged.
"...Hello?" he called, silently - in his dream-voice, the one the fortune-teller had heard when he was young.
There was no sign of the crocodile - if that was what it even was. He had a feeling if he could see farther back than ten feet or so, it would be close enough to terrify him. "I did," he said. "What - who are you?"
The entire river seemed to swirl with laughter, for several breaths.
Shihab ground his teeth. This... thing could give him answers, that much was sure. But... to apologize? He'd won, hadn't he? The laughter in response was a low chuckle this time - still just as unnerving.
"What am I apologizing for? I mean, besides trespassing. Which, you know, this is in fact <i>technically</i> public property, there's no signs or anything..."
That said, what little anecdotes and more prosaic bits of your character's backstory didn't make it in? Do you have any definite idea of what happened to catalyze them into coming to SDA? If so, have you written it?
When SDA went down for a few months, I started messing around in Shihab's background and wondering how he actually found out about his father. He's not an original fiction piece, but writing him was actually quite fun. Thus, here's my little contribution, unfinished as it is.
---
Shihab glanced up through the chink in the ceiling, whispering a prayer to whatever unknown powers might be lurking in the open sky. He wasn't sure how he kept getting into these situations-- surely, it couldn't have been intentional. He hoped.
"Oi, you've had enough time to prepare!" shouted Geoff from the doorway. "Let's get to it, unless you're backin' out!" A quieter comment drew laughter from the other boys.
Geoff, he thought, somewhat bitterly. Why didn't they pick on his name, anyway? It was different enough. Though, it must be admitted, it wasn't Shihab's name that garnered attention, but his lack of one - notably, a surname. Which meant, of course, that he was fair game, and- no, no time to think about that now. He had a bet to win. With a deep breath and a sudden grin, he stepped out of the ruined shack, laughing. The group stood waiting; they were mostly between 13 and 14, and all looked subtly older than him by now, Shihab noted grimly. He'd have to be moving on soon. But for now...
He pulled off his shirt and walked up to the little punt, flanked by Leron and Ahmed. The other six boys hung back, watching, talking quietly. As they paddled out into the river, Shihab stretched his limbs carefully, bringing his mind into a quiet, meditative state. When they were about sixty feet out, Ahmed and Leron stopped rowing, and the boat spun slowly in place, drifting loose. In unison at first, they began to slap at the water, but the calls from the shore threw them off and things became a chaotic din rather quickly. Shihab wished they wouldn't do that-- things would happen on their own time, without stirring up. He knew that from long, long experience-- and before the idiots could draw more attention to himself, he stepped up onto the edge with one foot, and leapt out into the water like a coiled spring. It was murky as hell, he noted - or, quite possibly, the beginning of Hell itself, he thought, whirling all the while, searching for movement among the depths... there. Somewhere below, towards the riverbed, a stir in the mud. He was glad, then, that his eyes had never been bothered by dirt in the water. With a wild, veering flourish, he pushed upwards to gulp a huge lungful of air. This was a trick he could not use, he'd learned - he had to breathe, during the challenges. To do otherwise tended to end badly. He was about twenty feet from the boat, he saw. Cursing inwardly at the timing, he swam a few strokes off; these things were big, and fought ugly. He couldn't risk Ahmed or Leron getting hurt.
He heard clearly, then, the now familiar snarl of primeval fury - not anger, but something far less cultivated. Quickly - all too quickly - the monster followed. Shihab nearly opened his mouth in shock, for this was indeed a monster. The eyes seemed to shine in the murky water like lamps, and the head was about one-third the length of his body, and thicker in places than he was.
With a deft twist, he managed to avoid the first charge, but was not quite fast enough to grab hold after, before it swept by.The croc whirled again, with impossible speed, and this time the teeth grazed his side on their way - but he managed to do a sort of underwater vault over it, using both hands to lift himself over the snapping jaws, using the beast's own snout for leverage. But he had a hold this time, and just managed to turn his body on the crocodile's neck, ensuring he could see where they were headed-- yes! Towards the shore, as he'd hoped. Shoving with all his might, he held the writhing croc on course, hoped it would keep the momentum.
The total silence of the following moment was strange - it took him a few beats to realize that the roaring, raging, furious noise of the crocodile's voice had ceased.
What are you, boy?
The noise, as sharp and rough as a mouthful as sand, clear as the glass it melted to, shocked him out of concentration for a moment, and he lost his grip on the rough hide. In the split second remaining, as he fumbled for balance of any kind, the Beast rolled over in the water, throwing him completely. They were deeper - and closer - than he'd thought, and he felt his back slam against the river bottom painfully. The massive jaws came half a moment later, raking his flesh and gouging deep tears in his torso as he rolled over, fighting desperately to get free from the claws and mud.
Not going to answer?
Awfully rude child, aren't you.
Awfully rude child, aren't you.
What the hell was this? Shihab scrabbled for a hold on the ground, pushing himself forward as hard as he could. The huge claw slammed into his back a split second after his head broke into the air, pinning him back to the river. He heard, distantly, the human din, and the splash of a monstrous tail behind him-- but that, he'd known.
This?
This is you trespassing...
And me taking my vengeance, boy,
This is you trespassing...
And me taking my vengeance, boy,
And the claw dug painfully into his flesh and dragged, rolling him over. He opened his mouth, then, and with a wild roar of his own and nothing left to lose in this fight, thrashed desperately, crazily, and broke through to the surface once again, for a brief moment of confusing noise and blinding light. One hand freed by his gamble, he shoved as hard as his strength would allow at the weight above him, and, to the crowd and croc's surprise, it slid partway off. He kicked hard, holding fast to the other leg with his pinned arm, and bore them both half out of the water. The croc's tail lashed hard, dragging them both down again, but Shihab stabbed his free arm hard straight down, gaining him another moment of purchase on the ground. With a final kick, carefully coordinated to the tail's motion, he pulled them both back up, repeating until they both lay, breathless and tangled on the bank, as duelers or lovers or the endless forces of Sun and Night. There was along moment of utter silence, before the crocodile breathed once more, and Shihab twisted out from under it, back-crawling as hard as he could, heedless of his wounds, before he collapsed back onto the ground. After what seemed an eternity, those intense yellow eyes turned away, and the great beast slid back into the water, leaving its opponent on the shore.
It was only after he'd lost sight of even the profile that he realized he was bleeding in several places, and bruised just about everywhere else. With an effort, he held still while Geoff tore the shirt he'd left ashore into strips, and washed the silt out of his wounds with handfuls of river-water. When the cloth was tied over, he managed to concentrate enough to hold his blood into the wounds, keeping it in his body. It wouldn't do to let himself die here, at the hands of... whatever that had been. After a few hours of talk, excited, curious, and somewhat disbelieving in cases, he was able to follow them home on his own feet, and crawled gratefully into his pallet in the dockhouse.
The next morning, strangely enough, his wounds had closed, but not healed on their own. Shihab decided he was officially curious about this fight. But he'd have to be wary; this whole experience was... new. It was about a week before the gouges on his stomach had turned to pale, deep scars, and a little longer for the clawprint on his back. He had a suspicion he'd be stuck with them - that fact alone had him thinking pretty hard. He'd been doing this since he was fifteen - probably at least thirty years now, for all he still looked like he was just finishing adolescence. The cuts were always healed the next morning, and scars... he'd never had a mark last longer than a month. But the truly strange part about the whole deal was the speech, he had to admit. If that was what it had been, actually... he had his doubts.
When he'd had enough of wondering, and his wounds had fully healed, he finally went back, right around the first light of dawn - alone, this time. He approached more slowly, more carefully. Before he could lose his nerve, he stepped into the water - barefoot, as before, and in a breechcloth only. He walked steadily in, willing his heart to slow back to a somewhat normal pace. When he was up to his chest, he slowly sat down, cross-legged.
"...Hello?" he called, silently - in his dream-voice, the one the fortune-teller had heard when he was young.
Ahhh. You returned after all.
There was no sign of the crocodile - if that was what it even was. He had a feeling if he could see farther back than ten feet or so, it would be close enough to terrify him. "I did," he said. "What - who are you?"
The entire river seemed to swirl with laughter, for several breaths.
So arrogant!
Boy, you have not yet asked my
pardon for your trespass.
Neither have you asked my leave, let
alone my welcome, to enter my home.
As a guest, it ill becomes you -
though I would surely expect no better
from one of your blood.
Boy, you have not yet asked my
pardon for your trespass.
Neither have you asked my leave, let
alone my welcome, to enter my home.
As a guest, it ill becomes you -
though I would surely expect no better
from one of your blood.
Shihab ground his teeth. This... thing could give him answers, that much was sure. But... to apologize? He'd won, hadn't he? The laughter in response was a low chuckle this time - still just as unnerving.
"What am I apologizing for? I mean, besides trespassing. Which, you know, this is in fact <i>technically</i> public property, there's no signs or anything..."
Really, now.
I held this place for centuries before you were born.
I bled for this territory, boy.
My signature is on all the roads in, all the borders,
but I tend to disregard the fishers, the travelers;
this is an era of tolerance, I am informed.
You, though.
You came with the obvious intent
to trespass,
to drag me, in fact, from my home,
however temporarily,
as some sort of trophy.
Did you not?
Have you nothing to apologize for?
I held this place for centuries before you were born.
I bled for this territory, boy.
My signature is on all the roads in, all the borders,
but I tend to disregard the fishers, the travelers;
this is an era of tolerance, I am informed.
You, though.
You came with the obvious intent
to trespass,
to drag me, in fact, from my home,
however temporarily,
as some sort of trophy.
Did you not?
Have you nothing to apologize for?