Thread: ` Lux's post samples - dnp pls!

Posting my samples here in case someone would like an idea of how I write. I would like to remind everyone who does peek at my writing that how I qrite I eould consider is fluid. I am capable of writing novels but I am also more then happy to write smaller snippets. It just depends on what I am given to work with and my inspiration. If you are reading out of curiousity and like my writing please feel free to PM me and we can dicuss a roleplay. I'm always looking for partners!! Thank you for your time consideration. posted 5 2 18 context Adventures of Mildryth Arno is a mxf fantasy pairing of an orc halfling. Very loosely based on DD adventures. Milly found her home ravaged by undead, she seeks a hero, and she finds Arno an orc who was a hero previous centuries before but seems to be a forgotten foot note in history. Post See more The taste of the strong bitterly brewed ale repulsed her. Her fine wavy locks were becoming ratty looking strings as they mopped up the excess liquid that poured over lips her lips and drenched an uncomfortable sticky sensation to her skin. She felt as if she were drowning, only left with the choice to desperately gulp as he kept relentlessly pouring down her throat. Mildryth became keenly aware that her mind seemed to focus in a nightmarish loop. There was a sudden sensation of lurching nausea - a violent protest from her empty stomach as it cinched tight under the uncomfortable heat trying to recoil back the way it came. The shock of it all had the numbing effects hitting her like the rush of a feisty goblin pillage. Of course Milly's impulse was to fight but she was paralyzed by their brute strength that seemed to easily overpower her. How was she to stop any of them? All her thrashing was capable of doing was tiring herself out. Her blows may as well have been that of a child - if she could accurately land them she might of had a better chance, but she was sorely at a disadvantage being tangled in his lap. She wished she had not underestimated them, wished that she had never thought anyone in this ugly city was capable of mercy . .Closing her eyes she willed for it to be over, to retreat somewhere in her thoughts - and even there she was still reminded of the tales she had read of heros. Heroes that came in and prevented wicked indecencies like these from taking place.There are none she heard a tortured and shrill voice inwardly rebuke. That time has come and gone, and no hero that she had always dreamed and hope to meet would ever appear before her of their own will. There wasn't even a haven in her thoughts to protect her from this scourge. And while she may have jumped to her conclusion a bit abruptly, even if she had seen the orc crossing the room to come towards them she wouldn't have guessed him of all people would be her savior. She only heard the voices but the words seemed liked they were stretched and out of order. It came slowly even though everything was happening so fast around her. When she heard this man holding her against himself howl abrupt and loudly, her eyes opened and the sight she was met with was blood. It wasn't as if she wasn't use to the sight of blood. She had slain many animals for a meals, and had helped fend off the land from small little monsters that tried to take advantage of their easy life. There was something jarring that left her sick when she realized that this blood was coming from somewhere. She saw the stains bleed through her fabric and her mind panicked. She could hear a guttural terror stricken scream yet she wasn't able to sort if it had been and inward voice locked away in her mind going mad or if it had belted out of her like a banshee. Her hands grasped at her own body trying to feel out every inch for the injury that wasn't there. Then without warning she was once again being picked up. Frightened she grabbed at anything she could to resist, the table the man's shirt but she hadn't been quick enough. Put me down! she shrieked thumping her tiny fist into his arms raising her voice for a louder protest, PUT ME Duuh- it halted all at once in one sudden gasp. When she looked at Arno her heart stopped and she nearly swallowed her tongue. The humans had been fearful enough, but now in the arms of an orc she could only feel a ghastly terror clench her jaw as her eyes shrank to mere dots. Milly hardly predicted that he was fighting for her, she hadn't known what to expect. All the awful stories she had read about what orcs were capable of immediately narrated themselves in her head. So when he all but picked her up and set her down ever so gently and he completely ignored her she was confused. Not one word spoken, and yet his actions indicated that he was engaging the crowd that tormented her for her sake. Millycould barely stand on her own feet, swaying unsteadily trying to catch herself on some invisible holding. Shaking like a tree in a storm trying to holding it's baring her chest fell rapidly rising and falling as she watched like in a dream as the chaos unfolded. It wasn't until she saw the first chair break and splinter over his body that she was more present. Whatever her feelings might have been were swallowed up into a pinpoint lost in the rhythm of her beating heart. Milly didn't feel courage moved her but rather compassion, the anxiety that this stranger might become some causality on her account jolted her out of the stillness of fear. She hadn't known what she was able to do - except take cover under one of the tables, if she took a hit from something flying around like a chair it'd be over. Darting she crouched in the shadows grabbing up a tankard that had been kicked and clattered in her direction. When someone stepped near she acted like a snake, striking out hard and fast. Slamming the empty mug on any man's feet that passed by. They jump and hopped about feeling their tender toes crushed with her unexpected attacks. If this wasn't already a circus of madness then it only took a sudden turn of unexpected surprise. It was as if Ramsey had heard his ward's distress and released himself from the stall across the yard. He came through that door as others rushed out, and in his braying outrage he released his ruthless blows. He kicked, he butted his head, he charged and he bit everyone within sight. There were holes made in the wall stamped by his hooves, tables were knocked over as others tried to dodge his path. The barkeep had jumped in trying to sort the mess, he face was a livid purple and upon seeing a donkey enter in under his roof his temples seemed to bulge with disgruntled animosity. Ramsey sensed that if anyone was to blame for Mildryth's true displeasure it was him. Rather than fight him the donkey sought to punish him in a different way. Maneuvering about he made a rushed but false charge. Of course the man acted and tried to dodge, and who knew a donkey could be such a rouge? But he swerved at the last moment and cut the human off, snatched the belt holding his tunic cinched and his purse he easily pulled it right off with little effort. The man whirled to try and catch Ramsey once he realized all the gold he earned that evening was now in the possession of this ass. He desperately tried to grab a hold of Ramsey's backside as he made his escape but he couldn't hold a steady grip so he instead grabbed hold of the mule's tail. The indignation that Ramsey felt from the hard yank earned the inn keep a hard kick to the chest as Ramsey pranced around in large bounds like a bull in arena. He was released the one kick was enough to send the other sprawling backwards and rolling, and the donkey bolted out the door with his plunder. Milly was crawling from one table to the next using her barrage of tactful toe quelling blows. It was the glint of a dagger that caught her eye, she saw the fiend approach Arno with his intent to plunge the blade in a quick stealthy attack. She wasn't swift enough to warn him, and her voice wouldn't have carried over the fuss. Coming out from under her table she rushed forward weaving between legs and the broken furniture. She wasn't going to give the attacker time to pull the blade back and act on another plunge. Jumping forward she wrapped herself around his leg and bit as hard as she could into his thigh. Distracted with a unexpected Halfling biting him he wasn't able to withdraw the blade. He reached down and grabbed a fistful of her hair pulling with several aggressive jerks. Her head felt as if she were swimming in fire, and rather then let go she only sank her teeth in further tasting blood through his fabric. Arno had plucked the blade effortlessly, the first real blow to knock him for a moment before he found reprieve in returning the blade back to the owner right into his other leg. Giving up on tearing her off his leg his fist came down, clouting her hard in the ear. She let go, flopping to the floor as her ear rang and began to tingle swelling from the hard blow. She spat blood and slowly realized she was just under this giant's feet. Sitting in the shadow of the towering orc her eyes marveled as he single handily went through man after man. It was like his strength knew no bounds, or least so it seemed. Over time the fatigue was catching up to him, his shoulders rose and fell heavily with each breath as he fought to posture himself. She noticed his fist were shaking to stay up, his stance wasn't as strong and much more open then anyone would have wanted in a brawl. What never failed was the severe menace that he projected - and if he was tired then the men were defeated. Those that remained where bloody, bruised and broken. The smart ones had taken their leave, and she never once would have called them a coward, they had a right to be frightened. It was hard to tell what he must have felt after it was all said and done. She tried guessing, tried to read from his face and his focus. If he had words they never came, he seemed to lurch forward unfazed by the owner's words as he tottered towards the doorway. Milly picked herself up, she wasn't surprised that he was now directing his anger at her. And take that small, talent-less, she-bitch with you! Never had rage been an emotion she readily acted on, and yet it came easily like slipping an arm into a sleeve. Her eyes darkened as her massive foot came down with stomp that seemed to shake the foundation of his tavern. SILENCE. her voice riveting with power a ghostly breeze seemed to have swept off her small body and blown through the room. The candlelight was snuffed and it was just her and this human standing in a shamble of a room as the moonlight spilled over her through the windows. What do you know of monsters and talent? she could see him looking uneasy now, hardly expecting to be challenged and to be frightened by something so much smaller than himself. You will never have any joy under this roof, mark my words. You will come begging me to play, and I'll have the pleasure of telling you no. I'll watch you suffer just as you've watched me toil and endure your ill mistreatment. She pointed at him just as severely as he had pointed at her and she watched as he looked stricken and helpless at her in his dark nearly empty establishment. She may not have the ability to curse anyone, but she was convincing enough to make fools follow their own destiny. She took her leave quickly coming down the steps and looking to see where her liberator had taken to carry himself to. When her eyes fell on him fallen in the mud she was quick to be at his side in a moment, her previous prejudices absent as she knelt down and picked up his face. ...Hey, she spoke gently, Hey, I... she looked over him her fingers touching his tunic trying to take in his injured state. Just a moment, okay? This would require her concentration as she thought back to a song she had been taught when she first showed talent. A song of healing. It wasn't anything that would restore someone fully, but it helped with little things. Little sprains, cuts, and bruises. It did the trick when Ramsey twisted his ankle, or her father's knee acted up. It would probably bring him back to at least helping him up off the ground, he wouldn't feel as much pain as he likely did at the moment. It wasn't so much a song with out words, it was more a soft hum. It rose and fell in timbers as she carefully ran her fingers through his hair, touching the shaven base under his skull and tracing his grizzled plush jaw. It went on for a minute or so until she noticed that his breathing seemed to relax some. You'll be okay now. she assured threading her hair behind her ears, Can you walk? It was at this point that Ramsey's feet clattering on the stone that he finally approached cautiously. He still held the belt in his teeth, as if showing off his impressive skill. His demeanor shifted as his ears swerved back, a blasted series of angry snorts came from his flaring nostrils. He wasn't shy in hiding his disdain and unruly disposition seeing Milly kneeling by the orc. Ramsey, she chided, Don't be rude he helped me, he needs our hel- looking from the donkey back to Arno her eyes looked more closely as her fingers traced down from his jaw, turning his head so it'd be comfortable out of the mud and on her small lap. A stringed necklace hooked under her fingers, she pulled it to see the pedant dangling as she pawed it a moment curiously laying it out in her palm as she felt suddenly taken back.There was no mistaking this symbol, and all sank in. Only one orc could have carried something so unique to his persons. She could barely breath, her little skull buzzed with a sudden briefing of the mentioned deeds he had helped achieved in his party. It hardly seemed to matter if this had been a century ago it felt like it was relevant and unreal. Arno. she exhaled slowly as her thumb passed over the symbol, it felt heavy to hold, and all at once her heart was dancing. You're Arno Blightfog. she was chortling in an delightfully anxious manner. Ramsey, it's - Arno , he's a hero. a real hero ... gods. the donkey seemed less impressed as true smile lit up on her face in what felt like decades. That is you , isn't it? she inquired trying her hardest not to gush all at once. posted 5 11 18 context a dwarf named Omree a severe Agender Elf Queen named Hjordis are set into an arranged marriage. That being Omree has seemed to found the best treasure to win her over with. Although the two aren't exactly fond of being together See more There was a shiver of disbelief settling down his spine as the anxiety did pivoting uproars in his stomach. He still couldn't believe he had agreed to do this foolhardy task. This is a bad idea... he told himself stepping into the pristine kingdom. It wasn't hard to draw attention, he could feel eyes from the streets locked on to him. He wasn't welcome here that much he sensed. To them he was nothing but a hulking monster that only caused a lot of problems and although he wasn't here to cause trouble he certainly found that they expected it. In no time at all guards approached and blocked him from proceeding further. Darl'eck remained calm and polite when they spoke to him, which only raised their suspicion. After all he was no more than a dark skinned orc, the color bleeding in an inky blue that was darker than any midnight sky. Over his skin was dusting of sprinkled light dots in varying sizes - similar to that of humans who had bespeckled freckles over their bodies. His were densely scattered over his bulky broad shoulders draping down his arms and his barrel chested frame. His face wasn't at least swallowed up by the dark color, it broke up into a lighter hue of grayish blue storm on the horizon. Here his eyes and cheeked had larger splatters of white as if someone with paint had flung the brush and stained him. It had an ornate beauty between his stark cheek bones and jaw line, with his tusks parting his lips and thick brows resting in what always seemed to be a scowl. He knew occasionally some might find him to be a dazzling spectacle, but all anyone ever saw was orc . It couldn't be helped no matter where he went he got comments and stares - most saying it looked like a bird had taken a shat on him. Omree, his guardian and told him to ignore that senseless jeering. He looked at Darl'eck and saw a masterpiece. In fact he often told him that the Gods must have plucked him down from the heavens above and gave him an honor to wear his skin to match the starry nights above. When he had adopted Darl he had named him after an old Dialect of dwarven one that had died out decades ago - that his namesake was what the Dwarves had called 'The Northern Star'. He tried for a smile that came off as a grimace reaching to tug at his hand made scarf. A blood orange knit wrapped delicately around his massive neck. It was off putting to see such an orc bare chested and cumbersome wear such a silly thing. He touched the daisies he had painstakingly stitched in as he fiddled for a moment. Not to mention the small fitted eye glasses sitting on his hooked ugly nose. He squinted taking a look between the two before addressing himself and his reason for being here. The eleven guards exchanged dubious glances between each other trying to decide the best course of action. One of them sighed clearly annoyed, the queen after all had commanded any suitor was welcome to win her daughter's hand. They decided to escort Darl straight to the palace to make sure he wouldn't cause any trouble just in case. To which Darl gratefully thanked them kindly somewhat relieved that he wouldn't likely be bothered. The hard part wasn't over though... He kept his head down as he was led up stairs and through long passages, it was hard to take in everything. It was so jarring to see something so bright, clean and well... As breath taking sight. There hadn't been nearly anything as beautiful as anything he had ever seen before in his life. It only made the knots of anxiety sink in his stomach as he approached the throne. He dropped to his knee wishing he could appear smaller. There was no doubt that he was likely a few good inches taller than the soon to be new queen, but height didn't determine victory and he wasn't about to challenge her. He started to address her but formalities were curt - likely they had seen many suitors come at all hours and they didn't have time to indulge everyone of them. When they asked him to produce the treasure in question, here he balked but for a moment. This is s bad idea... he found himself repeating in a tick of nervous muttering. One of the guards dropped their spears against the floor in a sharp thwack - the impatient one from before. Speak up before her grace! Swallowing he nodded in complice finally turning his eyes up from the floor feeling himself flinch suddenly from her appearance. He had heard many things about her but nothing could have prepared him for what he would actually see. Setting his turmoil of emotions aside he decided to get down to business before she took insult to his staring. Yes, the ah... Treasure. nervously he touched his scarf once more before clearing his throat trying his hardest to speak in confidence. Well, to be frank I personally am not uhm, pro-proposing. No, I suppose that would be my master. he could feel the tension in the room, it almost was as if the air had been sucked out. He didn't need a question directed at him to tell him that they were demanding him silently where is he then. He - a pause while Darl tried to flex a modest smile between his jutting tusk, politely might I add, invites you to come join him in a quaint little tavern just outside the city. The Silver Maiden it's called, in name of your honor if I rerecall. They actually have a fabulous brew called the Slaying Bitch. the words just tumbled out of his mouth before he realized exactly what he was really saying. Dark eyes shrank as his cheeks blew up in a reddening burst of shame. The wave of fluttering butterflies coiling in his stomach like butting rams died abruptly all at once. The only feeling he felt was a sudden chilling numbness eat away at his finger tips and slowly crawl through him. In a tiny croak he continued He claims to posses a treasure unlike anything your eyes have ever beheld in your long lived life... And he implores you to consider his request - should you refuse he feels happily obligated to sell it off and become wealthier than the seven kingdoms combined. He wasn't sure what held his composure because he nearly burst into a fit of maddening roars of laughter, his nerves pressing the giddy lucid feeling of release as he pretended to clean the lenses of his glasses. He expected a reprieve at any second but delayed it but a moment feeling compelled to say. Mind you your grace, these are his words not my own.