MISCELLANEOUS Luther's Work Bench (characters, plot notes, ideas, etc.)

Luther

King of Nothing
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
  1. Look for groups
  2. Looking for partners
Posting Speed
  1. Speed of Light
  2. Multiple posts per day
  3. 1-3 posts per day
  4. One post per day
  5. Multiple posts per week
  6. 1-3 posts per week
Online Availability
Online very frequently.
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
  4. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. Primarily Prefer Male
Characters
Plot Notes
Ideas
Etc
 
Writing Samples:

Write a story in the crime genre. It's about a bible salesman and should include a locked door. Also use the sentence 'I will end you for this.' Bonus prompt: Your character is dying.

The snow seemed to be coming down much heavier than it was a few hours ago. The weather man was right for the first time all year it seemed, and as much as Sherwin wanted to smile about such a fact, he simply couldn't. He hated the snow. He hated it more than anything in the entire world. Stepping on legos or spiders invading the basement didn't come close to the thought of bundling up in what seemed like hundreds of layers of coats, sweaters, hats, and gloves. To top it off, he had to wear the shabby cotton scarfs that his wife always bought for him. Damn those itchy scraps of disgustingly golden colored fabrics. The very sight of the things made him groan and cringe, knowing that for the next hour he wouldn't be able to breathe through his mouth or risk getting the fabric wet with spit and sweat.

The man trudged down the street, glancing up occasionally at the dark sky and checking his watch. It seemed like it would only be a matter of time before the thing stopped ticking, the glass covering fogging over as his breath billowed out in clouds from his nose. What did it read? 5:00 in the morning? Damn, this was getting too early. Who in the right mind would accept the job of being a door-to-door salesman, considering that it payed hardly anything at all? Me. I would. Just wish the pastor could pay me a bit more than 'the grace of God', or whatever the hell he said. This time around, Sherwin felt like his bag full of crisp and freshly printed bibles was several pounds heavier. Maybe it was because the covers were made of fine leather with neatly printed letters on the front that read the familiar title of 'Holy Bible'. Ironic that the color of choice for these letters was a bright shining gold. What could be better than a gold title on your desk-side bible? Gold, of course.

Sherwin couldn't stop the train of thoughts he had on finances and riches. Ever since he was diagnosed with colon cancer, his entire world had changed. He hadn't felt panic in his heart like the day the doc wouldn't look him in the eye. The worst part about it was the panic that his family felt... but it wasn't out of pity for him. They were more concerned about the loss of income that came with his eventual death. There was no way they could pick up jobs that would come close to what he had been making. The debts would pile up, the bills would go unpaid, and they would all be homeless by the end of the month for sure. Could he blame them for their fear? Of course I can. This is about me. Not them. I'm the one with the tumors, not them-.

The loud crack of a door slamming open knocked the man from his thoughts. Whirling around, he came face to face with a young woman. She couldn't be more than 24 years old, youth still evident in her wide glassy eyes and slim figure. Her lips were dried and chapped, cracked and bleeding. They seemed to match the rest of her, bruised and scarred up as if she had fell off a cliff of jagged rocks. The two locked eyes for a long while, standing breathless and in shock. Sherwin's eyes dropped lower, seeing that the young lady was barefoot, her skin turning pink as her toes became buried in the snow on the sidewalk. He blinked quickly, noticing that she was without a coat...or gloves or a hat. Hell, she seemed to be wearing nothing at all but shorts and a ragged and ripped t-shirt. His eyes went wide, realizing that he hadn't seen this girl at all in town... perhaps not even in his life. Who the hell was she?

He frowned and took a tentative step forward, reaching a hand out and opening his mouth to speak to her. He couldn't get two words out before he heard a loud shout from inside the house. The young woman cried out and shoved Sherwin hard, his feet slipping out from under him and tumbling straight to the ground. He looked up and watched as he saw her turn on her heel and sprint down the snow covered sidewalk and across the street, leaving foot prints in the snow as she went like rabbit tracks. Sherwin groaned and moved to sit up, frowning heavily when he saw the bibles scattered all over the yard, now surely soaked through enough to make the inked pages bleed into one another.

Before he could assess any true damage to the bibles or to his bones, he felt two strong hands grab him by the back of his coat, heaving him up and throwing him around like a literal rag doll. He howled as he hit the ground a second time, feeling something pop in his left hip, leaving a sharp stinging burn running down his inner thigh. He blinked up through the falling snowflakes to see a large lumbering figure snarling down at him. he brought an arm up to shield himself when he saw the glimmer of steel under the streetlights. A gun. The man was holding a gun. The silver pistol was pointed right at Sherwin's head, and the salesman found himself frozen and unable to move.

"Where is she? Did you let her go?" Sherwin moved his jaw to speak, but no words came out. He sputtered and pointed with his hand, "I-I uh, uh, she-". He stammered quickly before feeling a hard grip on his neck, choking him with the strength pushing on his throat. "You let her go. You let her get away." The barrel of the pistol pressed against Sherwin's forehead, pushing under his hat just enough for it to fall from his head onto the ground. The wind was cold on his ears, snowflakes landing on his cheeks like icy kisses. "I will end you for this."

Sherwin closed his eyes tightly, gripping his hands onto the wrist of his assailant as he waited for the cold to finally leave him.

Elephant Boy

She held onto her young son tightly as he continued to scream and shout, feeling tears rush to her eyes as the strange tribal figures approached them. She looked upon the young 8 year old who fought so hard to be free form her grasp, and she knew then that she had lost him forever. "My name is Elephant Boy! My name is Elephant Boy!" he shouted over and over again, his fingers prying into her hands as he wrenched his body in multiple angles to try and break free. His hair was messy and unkempt, his clothes dirty with vines wrapped over his legs and arms in an almost ritualistic fashion. Have these strangers manipulated her child so much that he had completely forgotten himself?

"You are not Elephant Boy! You are Blue Canary! You are my son!" She cried out, hoping that he would hear her. Her words all but fell on deaf ears as the boy let out an animalistic howl, a sound of possession that made her cry herself, tears streaming down her dark cheeks as she turned her attention to the men that loomed over them, just yards away from her son's reaching hands. "Don't take my son away from me! Don't take him away!" she cried to them, sobbing now as they ignored her plea and took the boy's arms to pull him away from her.

The old man sat at the side, watching the spectacle unfold as the men tore the mother away, her son willingly following them as they ushered him away from the place he had once called his home. The man's face creased in a look of unhappiness, his eyes showing the true grief that he felt, even if the rest of his expression remained collected and still. He didn't argue seeing the boy being taken away, locking eyes instead on the woman as he watched her wail and collapse to her knees as the tribal men finally let go of her. He did not go to comfort her, remaining distant and passive as the rest of the tribe moved to make their leave. He sat motionless, silent as cries of anguish echoed through the tall trees. Birds took flight, as if escaping a predator that chose to prowl in the tops of the branches.

Climbing Snow Slope

"They aren't far now. I can see the smoke from their war machines. Hell, I can smell them. Coal, rubber, rust. Hear that? The wheels are breaking the ice." "Lets hope they're too close to the edge so that they fall in and sink." Corre was a good captain. He knew how to set everyone back on the right track. He narrowed his eyes and looked out over the snowy mountains from their hideout in the cabin. It was time to move. He could see the soldiers now, attacking those who were assigned to lookout posts that morning. The gusts were strong, blowing snow around in large waves that it nearly looked like a snow storm. The sun was bright, reflecting off of the snow and making the world around them seem like a flashlight, making the remaining group squint their eyes.

"We need to get out of here. They'll be here in minutes if we don't leave now." Pak said quickly as he began to beckon the others to an escape rope that was tied around the outer column of the cabin. If they moved carefully, they could all climb down the cliffside and move on foot toward the next foothill. It would give them enough time to find shelter among the boulders and prepare for the first wave of enemies.

"No. It'll take too long for all of us to go down." Corre frowned heavily, flinching as a large explosion sounded off in the distance as the first lookout post went up in flames. he snarled softly, fixing the goggles on his head and pulling up the fur coat he wore on his shoulders. This would not be a good day for the rebellion, that's for sure. They couldn't afford much more casualties, though it seemed this is exactly what would happen in the next hour.

"You go. Shohe and I will distract them." All eyes turned to Mercy as she stood up among the group, her dark hair blowing out in her pony tail. "They haven't seen us yet. With luck, they won't even reckognize us until you are all up in the hills." she said, pointing to herself. Shohe nodded to back her up, stroking his fuzzy red beard. "Aye. They don't know our faces like yours, Captain. They'll probably think we're one of them." Corre frowned heavily, not liking the idea of giving up too more of his closest friends. The situation called for time, however. Any time they could get would be a blessing in its own. "...ok. But as soon as you can break away safely, you must make yourselves scarce. They haven't seen you yet, but by the end of this, they'll be looking to hunt you both down and skin you alive."

Both nodded their heads in response, accepting the danger that they were about to run head first into. Corre looked around the remaining members of his group, scanning their wary, war-tired faces. "Anyone have any objections to this plan?" Silence, the ending decision. "Alright. Everyone down the slope. We'll regroup at the foothills behind the boulders. Move as quickly as you can. We don't have much time. Move out."

Kip smirked and wrinkled his nose a bit before bouncing over to the couch, climbing up on the back of it and looking out the window, his long ears perking up. "Ey, there's someone else here too! Damn...all their pop just spilled all over the sidewalk. Oh well. Too much sugar." "You're one to talk, Kip." Jossie chuckled from the kitchen as she began to unload the rest of the food they had brought.

Blackie was curled up in a ball, having pulled his hood up over his head as if to hide even further, now ducked down under the dashboard. "...i-is he gone?" he asked, peeking out only to see that the pale faunus had stepped even closer. He groaned nervously, crawling into the back seat with Alam who seemed tense and perked up, growling a bit as sharp teeth poked out from his slightly agape jaw. The large pale faunus was dressed in dark jeans and a red plaid flannel, a cigarette between his fingers. "...you spilled all your pop." he rasped, looking at Ryan. "Gonna get sticky if you don't clean it up." he muttered, walking until he was at the front of their car. "...know where I can find this faunus?" he asked, taking out a picture that was crudely captured, showing a very blurred image of the bull faunus from the white fang. "...pretty important business." he said, the smoke pooling out of his nose, causing him to cough very dryly, sounding like he had smoked for all his life.
---
Thoren was soon out of the shower, his tail and ears wet and fur spiked up all over the places. His ears were slighty flat, clearly not placing bath time at the top of his list of favorite activities. He had his plain shirt on and blue jeans, trying to smooth down his fur as he came out to meet the others. "...done. Might smell like wet dog for a bit..." he muttered, having tried to comb his hair down as best as he could without looking like a wildman.
--
Paul shook his head and curled his face up in a look of fear-driven anguish. He looked ready to cry hard, hanging his head with his ears pinned back, tail tucked between his legs. The fearsome pitbull had completely changed 180, his breath hitching. "...I don't wanna be here. I hate this... this is worse than the jail..." he croaked out. In his panic, Paul began to move even closer to Leander. "...you have every right to hate me. You don't have to help me in any way. I wouldn't blame you if you left right now. I wouldn't. You should." he croaked, "I'm sorry for everything I did to you and your group. I'm so fucking sorry. I'd redo it all right now if I could, goddamn it, i'd redo it all..." he trailed off, eyes red with stress. "...god believe me, I'm sorry...I'm sorry sorry SORRY, I'm sorry..." he moaned out.

Talon hummed along with the radio as he pulled down their street and into their drive way. He took a deep breath, adjusting his ball cap that sat on top of his bright blond hair. He turned the key to shut off the truck, slowly stepping out and taking his bag. Talon wasn't one to work in fancy corporations, but instead decided to do the grunt work of hands on labor. He preferred to work in the dirt and with heavy lifting, but still knew how to clean up nicely when he needed to. He entered the front door, sighing as the familiarity of the house let him finally calm down and relax. He rolled his shoulders and set his bag down, slipping off his shoes and hanging his hat up. "Celeste?" he called, knowing that she was home. He moved to get a drink of water before he heard faint music upstairs. He slowly made his way up the steps, rounding the corner to the bedroom before slowly opening the door. He stood there in the doorway, his eyes wandering the room before falling on the beautiful ribbon-wrapped woman on the bed. He froze, his jaw going agape as he took in her form, speechless and completely frozen on the spot. "...whats all this?" he asked softly, a small smile curling one side of his mouth as his eyes met her's.
 
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Plot Ideas/Notes:
 
Characters:

Warren Knight
Talon Golde
Shepherd Golde
Robbie Taylor
Cyan

Michael (Tommy Vext)
Simmy (Taron)
Aytien 'A.T' Huksley
Stel Huksley

Sam DeWall
Atlas

Rossi Hendrix
Roland Drailson
Logan DeSoto
Alex Ruby
Kelley Slate
Charlie Vinton (Furiosa)
Joe Vinton (Tucker)
Paul Mars

Theodore Skyman
Coy DeRano
Jake Hoults
Mark Hoults
Cody Wolf (Levi Kingston)
William Moody (Bearer or Toult)
Vincent Boone (Goldberg)

Marley (Tim Moonshine)
Otto Clouse (Draiman)
Dathan
Jon
Ahska

Jade Cole
Blue (Nicki Oitnb)
Andy Hill (Happy SoA)
Sasha (Danielle B)

Donn Hart
Jeronimo (Ghost)
Mosa (Jango)
Aaron Lydell (Tom Hardy)
Kip (Chris Rock)
Jossie/Vanessa
Asa Hudson (M. Shadows)
JJ Nessa (Punk)
Loren Shaw

Sara Rollins (Daddy OitnB)
Ramona Reigns (SoA)
Danny Ambrose (Sasha TWD)
 
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