Please enter your chapter with a Name, post entry (Hello, I'm writing this because...) and if you would be so kind as to sign off. Like so: The Watcher Of course you can customise the sign off. Thank you for your consideration. Happy writing.
Cheesemuffin The tale of Cheesemuffin begins with a child wandering into the fields of KaW. Lost and green, his first few adventures led him through the many sections of Forums, from the tumultuous Off Topic to the silent News section. Each place seemed unique, each a different community in and of itself. However, as the child explored and grew further, he came to realize that the forums were not all so perfect; they all lacked order, discipline, and organization. He was in luck, though, for around the time of this realization, a light of creation blazed across the horizon, shaping itself into a new section of its own: Fan Fiction. And so our adventurous Cheesemuffin set off to this strange new land, where he found a flourishing new community, mostly thrown-together tents where writers shared their works, where thinkers revealed secrets, and where creativity could be seen leaking from every leaf. But in the middle of it all, a humble café stood out, doors wide open and a quiet murmur from within. Brave as he was, he stepped inside, revealing to his eyes a small party huddled around a table. Brief but heartfelt introductions acquainted him with Irin, Zaln, Smighter, Stora, FeatherHunter, GlooMi, Lady_Marian, and began his journey through FanFic. Like any town, FanFiction quickly grew from a mass of tents to a prospering village, established bookstores and writing companies on every corner. In the center of the new town, right next to the now-famous Writer's Café, the towering iWrite Co building stood. Cheesemuffin never entered the building - a decision he came to regret - but visited the Café as often as he could, always at the same table, where other readers would occasionally pass by and listen in. As the town grew further, Cheese and the party were elected by popular vote to be the Council of FanFiction. The council ran FanFiction like no other forum, guiding it into a positive future, teaching new writers and welcoming new ideas. A constant stream of wealth flowed into FanFiction... Then came the RolePlays. Hundreds of strange costumed "writers" swarmed in from all places, loudly blaring their words of "creativity" to all who would listen. Few were welcomed, and many came to be hated. Cheesemuffin was almost banished for speaking out against the only truly prosperous RolePlay thread, which had come to be known as TN3U, loudly protesting how FanFiction's constant intrusion into Active Topics would lead to their downfall. So ended FanFiction's prosperous time. The Admins decided to shut off almost all communication with FanFiction, severing all ties to Active Topics. FanFiction came to be forgotten by many, occasionally rediscovered by a wandering forum-goer; they did not find much, only a small village, lanterns dim with dying candles, and in the center of it all, a lone Café with a few somber voices sharing stories inside. Occasionally, a forum-goer would become intrigued by the tales told, and would try to resurrect FanFiction. It was never restored. A Mod came, Bellemorte, who temporarily brought it back, although even her efforts were not enough, and she sank down to become the silent protector of FanFiction. To this day, the Café remains lit, surrounded by tens of empty buildings, some occupied by beggars and trolls, a quiet reminder of what FanFiction had once been. One of the last of the Council, Cheesemuffin sits, reminiscing about those times. Taking a silent sip from a cracked and dull glass of Writer's Rum, he turns a tired eye to the doorway, hoping to see a glimmer of FanFiction's former self. Every day he drinks, and every day he watches, and every day he hopes. This is Cheesemuffin, signing off.
Exodus I arrived into a mysterious void, a void filled with knowledge and wealth. The very air lingered with a smile. Several eyes peered from an antique little cafè, bright, colourful eyes. They stared intently at myself like I was fresh bait. I dared to move a muscle. A second passed, then another. Whispering loudly to the glaring eyes. "What is your name? Are you mortal or immortal? Show yourself!" My plea landed on dead ears, if these creatures had ears. Periodically sets of eyes disappeared; shuffling of feet. The cafe light flickered. "Hello..?" A soft voice echoed in the void, a Canadian accent I presumed. The voice of a young girl. "Hello, are you friendly? I need help" She questioned. "I am friendly, I'm looking to find out where I have 'teleported'" I said, using the term teleported loosely. "This cafè is awfully quiet tonight, would care to step inside?" Her voice tempted me, the song like quality followed by her eyes blinking. A bright green. Emeralds in the dark. Marching inside with my guard up, I entered the cafè. The interior was picture framed of people, listed with their names. "Cheesemuffin, Featherhunter, Stora, Irin, Bellemorte, Seth" These names I did not recognise. Gods perhaps? I followed the girls voice towards another room, it appeared to be the main cafe area. Seats flung over the floor, glasses smashed, drinks over the floor. A real mess. "What happened?" I questioned. "Role players" She responded sharply. "They've destroyed my home, they claimed to be friendly. Then this..." A tiny drop of water escaped her green eyes grip. "The people you saw in the photos used to live here, creating masterpieces that we could learn and enjoy. They're gone. My homeland is diminished". Her voice tailed off into the night as she explained the horrors. This place was dead, Fan Fiction was a wasteland and I was forever trapped. She explained that one would come to save us. She hoped it was me. She thought wrong. For I am not the saviour, but the grim reaper. And I have come to collect the very last drop of Fan Fiction. My many names protected my identity as I orcastrated the downfall. This is Exodus, signing off.
He was weary, exhausted from a hard day of walking. He still hadn't reached the strategy forum where he was going to brush up on his war techniques. Suddenly he heard a scream, a pitiful, screeching scream. It echoed off the cliffs and reverberated down the valley, causing the birds to stop flying for a moment. "What was that?" he thought. He looked down the narrow, dusty, winding road and saw a crowd. "That must be the strategy forum. Finally!" he said to himself. But he was wrong, very wrong. Eager to find a place to rent and have a meal, he broke into a sprint, kicking up dust in his wake. He stopped abruptly, what he saw shocked him more than he thought possible. It was a town, a rather small town, but a town nonetheless. The houses were all stacked on top if each other, each floor had been built in a rather messy fashion: nothing was straight, everything was tilted slightly. But that was not what caught his attention. There was a huge commotion in what appeared to be the town square. The place was HEAVING with people wearing strange costumes and shouting over each other. There must have been about a thousand of them. "This doesn't look particularly strategic to me..." he thought. He went up to one of the strange, costumed people and asked, "What's going on? Where's the strategy forum?" "This is the fan fiction forum, we're role playing!" the man replied. He started making his way to what looked like a café. The sign outside read 'Writer's Café'. He opened the door and stepped inside. There was a group of people sitting huddled around a table, speaking in hushed, worried tones. He went up to them and asked what all the commotion was. "It's the role players, thousands of them, one of our residents started a role play and they've all joined in. It's one of the biggest threads ever!" one of them exclaimed. "Rumour has it the mods are on their way to shut it down, we might be completely disconnected from Active Topics! They might blow up the main road!" another said. "Well what can we do?" he asked. "Nothing," they said in a mournful tone, "it's too late. Those fools have destroyed fan fiction!" A WHILE LATER The place was a ghost town, the shutters on every house were closed, only a few people wonderedthe streets. The only open shop was the omipresent Café. If you were to go inside you would see a few people sitting around a centre table, discussing their writing: the old favourites like Cheesemuffin, FeatherHunter and the others. But you would also see someone else, sitting on his chair with his mug of ale in hand, drumming the table repeatedly with his fingers: him.
Oh I forgot about intro and sign off Intro: I'm doing this because... well... Meh, I just am! Name: It's called Him Sign off: Jonathan07 - signing off. Hope you liked it, it's the first piece of writing I've ever put on fan fiction (to think i've been reading stories on fan fiction since early 2011) so it's not the best - I just wrote it in about 10 mins whilst in bed on my iTouch so again it's not the best but oh well. Have fun!!!
The Lynx The lone roleplayer nearly dropped her blade in shock as she realized what her kind had done to the already desolate expanse of forums. Instead, she took a deep breath, tightened her grip on the weapon, did her best to conceal the black-tipped silver cat's ears that just barely poked out from underneath her raven locks, and continued forward. Occasionally, the young girl would hear a noise of sorts, the soft clicks of a keyboard. But whenever she turned, she saw no one, and immediately dismissed the wild theories that whirled inside her mind. She had wandered into the barren forum to repent, but had found no significant thread in her travels. She continued to wander. Finally, she reached an elegant yet worn building that she was surprised not to have seen before. The roleplayer took a deep breath, and raised a silver-furred hand to knock. Before her fist could hit the door, it swung open. She was immediately swept into the cafe by a young forumer that she failed to identify before he ran away. Confused, she turned to the sight before her. A few weary looking figures were cloaked in shadow. Curious, the roleplayer wandered up to them. She was immediately snapped at, and shunned. They remembered her, from so many months of endless roleplay. She fled the café, determined to change. Several months later, the roleplayer comes back with a new identity. Her affiliations are different, her name is different. Her name is now Bright. However, some part of her longs for the neverending roleplay. She shuts it away, hoping for acceptance within the dwindling FanFiction community. She gradually begins to make a presence. The tales she spins are recognized, her criticism beginning to become valid. Her lynx's ears are forgotten. Her nearly silent, almost nonexistant influence begins to dissipate along with the quality of FanFiction. Nonetheless, she does not wait, she does not hope. She merely watches, for she is not a true writer. She understands that this community is not truly hers. She is an observer. She is a roleplayer. This is Bright, Lunar Eclipse, Winter Phoenix. Candidus— signing off.
The Watcher I walk through the streets Through old memories I dine in the ruins of feasts I dance with the dead And explore the few new And find many a door left unlocked I put my hand on the knob My courage drains out I should not be here Not at all I return to my perch See a clearing in the distance And I go there for memories fond A small building Toppled over Scrolls and books being merged With the mud This building is ruin Not by bandits Or fire Or even some beasts My shoulders carry the burden of this site I built this small shack All on my own After trying and failing Many times It was doing okay Some visitors here and there Until I stole away into the night No trace did I leave No footsteps no follow For who would track one such as I? I am the Watcher I observe, not build And I saw the buildings collapse Now they're just legends Of a far gone day When heroes arose and took charge Am I a hero? No I think not Do heroes stand by and do nothing? Do heroes hide from the people That beg for much needed aid And that just need a kind word Or gentle prodding? How old am I? I do not know Older than most Younger than many I've watched a long time I've seen Heroes and Villains I've seen my share of legends being born Dragon Tale, Endgame, Atlantric, Innocence I've seen bards of all shapes and sizes Utho, Seth, iZaln, Stora, Irin Lady Marian, Arimay, Cheese, Feather How fast am I? I am not sure Faster than some Slower than many Many are swifter Less volatile More trustworthy I'm forgetful Make blunders Second guess And regret How graceful am I? More dexterous than some Clumsier than many I trip over words Go against the current Fast, then slow Big fish mixed in with the little I am no legend, no hero nor villain I stalk the shadows of this land unseen I hide in plain sight I catch glimpses from afar Of those heroes that I'd like to be And the land though it dwindles I'll pick up no blade For my foes would be stronger than me But I'll promise you this I won't give up on this fight Leave hints A map here Rope there Strange letters carved in the mud Hope still stands For this My ancient homeland In the form of a small Yet proud Cottage Sticking out from the dust And I The figure standing watch From afar Allioss The Watcher Jack of all trades and master of none For now We part Until our paths cross again Your's low Mine? High, out of sight.
Secret The lone figure prowled the streets, dim lights flickering in various cafés, and overbearing threads about the streets. Though he passed up one café with lots of people in it, all talking quickly and in hushed voices, so the figure pulled the green cloak tighter around him, then went into the café. He saw many names on the walls, a few of whom he knew. He looked at an overhanging sign saying "The Writer's Café." He walked up to the bar and asked for some Writer's Rum, while being scrutinized by all the people at the tables. He drank the Writer's Rum, then disappeared with a wave of his cloak. He knew he could never be a true writer. He watched the café, perched on top a small ledge, and stayed there. This is Secret, signing off.
_CHAOS_ I stared at the warm looking building in the cold, dark rain. I pulled up the cowl of my dark robe and strided up to the building. I passed another cloaked figure as I walked in, the slight smell of rum on them. I took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer for myself. The room was loud with the usual sound of people talking and laughing. It was so peaceful. I did not like it. I looked about and saw many of the people I had been observing for the last few weeks. Marian, iZaln, cheese, and many othere. They were all talking and drinking, generally having a good time. I needed to put a stop to this. Chaos must rain. After one last look about, I stood up and walked out, leaving payment on the counter. As I strode out into the cold night, I thought to myself,"This mission will be fun." CHAOS out peace
_KIMBER_ My mission was to kill them without being noticed. Like that was ever gonna happen. I've been in this job for all but 5 hours and I was expected to do this task in a town filled to the brim with police. I walk into the bar and immediately spot my first target. He was obviously drunk from the way he swayed and slurred his speech. Oh this poor man getting killed like this. Poor bloke, he won't even know what hit him. I sighed to myself. "Ah, yes." I approach him. He turns around to look at me with hazy, drunk-filled eyes. I could smell the rum wafting off of him. "what do you want?" he slurred gruffly. I pulled him along as if he never said anything, as if i was taking a drunken man home. I walked out of the pub and around a corner to a deserted alleyway. It was then I covered his mouth and killed him with a knife. I stabbed his heart feeling the wait of his life beneath my hand. So heavy. So pitiful, he was. I slowly set his body down. No one would know who did it, no one would even know until tomorrow. I walked out of the alley as if nothing had happen. As if I didn't murder someone. I headed to my next target. I already wasted too much time taking pity on a fool who deserved it. (inspired by Assassin's Creed 3, which I played all day today) This is theKimber, signing off... Maybe?