Here's something to challenge those with a pen for creative writing!
I've kinda taken from the Dark Lord/Mocha story and have it in the below POV (point of view) story of a certain character in our guild (no, not my character). What I'd like to see is some creative Point of View stories from other characters (whether it be yours or another characters, it makes no difference to me); and trying to do it in a sort-of chronological progression. If anyone has ever read the Song of Fire and Ice series of books, you'll understand what I mean.
Peruse this first chapter and try to build off from that. The story now begins anew in the current unfolding drama- with the terrifying rumor of Afrikaan, the synergy guild domination, and their respective allies gaining the upper hand in the War of Emperium struggle; and the resulting imbalance of power in the realm of Chaos.
Read the prologue chapter below and you'll get a feel for what I'm talking about.
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MISTGUN
The sun rose with a slight mist from the sea that morning for the humble blacksmith. Alone he sits in the square of the city; to his left is the ever-busy merchant guild, receiving novices who hold the dream of being merchants; to his right the docks leading off into a never ending ocean where many adventurers headed off to lands unknown. Before him was the friendly kafra lady, bowing to all who came by her- and for some annoying reason continuously bowing to him whenever he chanced to look in her direction.
"So annoying" he thought to himself.
"Welcome to Kafra Corporation, how may I help you today?" She chirped up.
The blacksmith looked away, staring off into the distance behind him. Another idiotic woman smiling at him, carving masks that looked just as idiotic as her grimace. On the side opposite her, a bard clad in green, paying him no mind.
"Just as well," he thought to himself. He wasn't too interested in whatever cloak and dagger antics he had to offer.
Just another day in Alberta. Another day to look into what his guildmates gave him for use later, and another day to give out supplies to those same guildmates in need of them for whatever ridiculous shenanigans they were involved in. The guild leader always gave him good stuff to keep. Every now and then his cart got too full- and he had to stoop so low as to ask that bothersome kafra lady to open up his storage account for him. It was a pain in the ass to divy up the zeny just to open up something that was his; but he was never short on cash anyway, so he guessed to himself it wasn't that big of a pain.
He started thinking on some of the things he'd heard in the last few days. The fall of the Dark Lord. The demise of a traitor. The powers that be banishing him from the realm. All of it seemed like a fading dream in light of the everyday nonsense he had to put up with. The mundane tasks he was called to perform seemed to drown out the excitement of passing rumor and tales of the brave warriors triumph. Oftentimes he felt as if the things he was carrying were little more than trash. He had in excess these damn bottles of yellow sand. And if that wasn't enough, as he sorted through his perceived garbage bin, he would get pricked by "those damn needles again?!". As much as he hated it; the guild alchemist would always without fail, come by on that certain day of the week and ease him of those burdens. There would be a day of relief, when the needles would be used along with the bottles of golden dust- and he'd receive a certain amount of potions. Blue ones, white ones. White ones in a test tube. It was all good- he didn't mind having as much as he could carry of those items; because in short time myriads of guildsmen would appear, and would ease him of that burden as well.
"Myriads?" he thought to himself as he stared at the roaming numbers of guildsmen.
It probably wasn't a countless amount. If he tried really hard he could probably count their number. But he didn't care to; it was too daunting a task, and he wasn't assigned to do that duty; better that work be left to one more suitable. Shift, shuffle, sort, and distribute was his job; and damn it all if anyone gave him any more burden than that.
"Our realm is in a power struggle" he remembered overhearing someone talk about to someone in his guild one day. "The balance is so delicate, and I for one would not like to see it tipped to favor one guild over all the others," Said a cloaked man in a ragged purple mantle.
"That is why we fight though, so we aren't dealing with that problem. And we've been doing a damn good job of it so far," the guild member replied, with a fire in his speech so matched to his outfit.
"I wish it were the case. But there is a guild rumored to be on its way to the top. Its leader is an ambitious man, with little to no regard to the balance of power. His guildmembers are the same, and their devotion to their masters cause is almost fanatical; I've heard rumors that at a drop of a dime, at their leaders call, they drop their jobs, they rise from their sleep, and some have even said they come back from brink of death- to perform the tasks that their leader bid them."
"Rumors. Old wives tales. If you believe those tales, then there's a bridge east of comodo I'd like to sell you," the guildsman said while smirking.
"Notwithstanding, their devotion is true. Their leader's drive is inhuman; it would be only a matter of time..." the cloaked man was cut off by the appearance of a stunning woman. Very stunning the blacksmith thought to himself. perhaps she'd like to see his mistgun? Though it wouldn't be a mist upon his arrival; more like a shower of inspiration and power. His thoughts wandered into the gutter, only to be snapped out by her angelic voice.
"Enough your jibber jabber! The weeks have been long, and they are nearing their goal!" she shouted.
She waved at them to follow her, and a mysterious portal opened for the three of them to enter. It was only at this moment Mistgun realized that he had been mesmerized by the beauty of one of the holy cloth. "Whatever," he thought. Remove the cloth, and she's like any other babe out there- naked and good to go. He sat back and pondered on the events that had just taken place.
"What the hell was all the rush?" he thought. But as he recalled the conversation between the mysterious man clad in purple and his fiery guildmate, he realized something; and it was as if it was the first profound thought that had ever crossed his mind in years...
"Shit," he said aloud. "It's gonna get more hectic for me in the days ahead."