Writing Explorations: Week 45, Clerical

[The Mood is Write]

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Sorry to spook you guys with the scary exclamation point just to the left, but I have an announcement regarding the status of my upcoming exercise series!

The Planning Practice (working title) exercises will be geared towards 1x1 players, and it will be posted in RP Mechanics, and it will include exercises with creating plots, presenting ideas, dealing with OOC difficulties in the planning process, overcoming hurdles, and more. These exercise types will be rotated or random, and each will include tips based on my experiences.

EDIT: I forgot to say this earlier, but Planning Practice exercises are going to be held off until I have ideas set up for at least the first several months. They may be once every two weeks, or every week with a simplified version every other week to let my brain work out the deets for the more in-depth exercises. I've got a list of topics and subtopics to include. Get yourselves pumped!

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My Writing Explorations series of exercises are a chance for users to explore new concepts and practice the art of raising two fingers to Writer's Block while screaming obscenities to fickle muses: to rebel against the idea that a person requires a mythical force inside them to make new and amazing things.

No. Listen well, users: there is no being inside you waiting to be let out. You are the writer, and in this exercise, you are given a place to push not only against Writer's Block, but also against the forces of stagnation. Feel trapped in your genre? Explore a new one! Stuck with a singular archetype? Do something else! In this thread, you will not be critiqued, and I will read every entry and let you know what makes me happy about it. Should you wish it, I will happily offer my thoughts on how it might be improved, but I will not comb looking for fixes: this isn't the place: this place is for safely trying new things and indulging a love of writing.

Shake the bars of your cell block and roar, writers!

[fieldbox=How do I take part?]Curious about how this works? Good! Look over the offered themes and prompts and the bonus rounds, then think about them. Then, take your thoughts and get writing. You can write to one or more (or none) of the prompts, the theme in the thread title, the bonuses: hell, you can even cast aside all of what I offer if you get a different idea.

The whole point is "get writing!"[/fieldbox]

Themes:

1. An error in paperwork causes too much trouble for something so simple.
2. Everyone expects the user of healing magic to be kind and gentle. They're wrong.
3. The person serving the 'good' side is the big bad and the person serving the 'bad' side is the hero.

Bonus Rounds:

• Write in a random genre.
• "I'm not very good at magic yet, but I'll do my best!"
• "So help me, if I have to RUN to you in the middle of battle to keep you alive ONE MORE TIME,"
• "When was the last time you bought yourself a new pen?"
• "I'm a priest, not a healer!"
• An unlikely character is a technophile.
• A character firmly believes they are a member of another race. It's really obvious they aren't, but they refuse to work with anyone who won't acknowledge them. This stems from something completely rational.
• Use the name Cilloos somewhere.

 

[Ravenfrost]

I owe you two, now! Hopefully, I'll get them on the road tomorrie, if we don't lose power here. (Storms and such.)

Thanks for doing this!

 

[MST3K 4ever]

[Continuation from a story begun in Exercise #44]

Colonel Travis led Maggie Stibold through a maze of ruined and burned out buildings. Maggie had been under Travis' personal supervised training for the last month, and while she had made strides in her training Maggie still had much to overcome before she would be turned loose on the Illuminati's main computer station Central One. Maggie was intelligent and humble, but she was also awkward, wore thick glasses, a bit of a klutz, and snorted when she laughed from time to time. Maggie was a bonafide nerd, but she had two of the main characteristics that Travis looked for in a soldier. She had a compassion for others and was willing to do whatever it took to help out. Ever since the Illuminati had won the Information War of 2178 Travis and his resistance unit called the Iron Ice had been waiting for some kind of sign that they had a chance. A savior to rise among them to lead them onto victory, but like many legends and stories in The Bible their idea of a savior and what they were shown by God or fate wasn't the same idea. Many in Iron Ice wanted to led a direct assault and let Maggie in that way. However, Travis decided against that idea. He knew the Illuminati would be expecting something like that, but they never viewed one person as a threat. Travis believed that Maggie was that one person who could bring them a final victory. If Central one was terminated the Illuminati was done for.

Maggie had the passcodes and central computer codes written all over her body. So Travis was very careful that there were not too many marks on her body from her training and sparring sessions. One wrong mark could mean the difference between a valid or invalid code. Travis was noticing that some of the marks weren't fading away, and he was taking a desperate gamble to get the marks removed.

As they approached a destroyed cathedral Maggie said, "Wow, this person you're looking for help from they must be a priest of some kind. I bet they're very nice and compassionate."

Travis stopped and looked at Maggie. He nodded and said, "Yeah kid, keep telling yourself that." Travis then walked on as Maggie followed him. The man they were going to see was named Cilloos a former soldier in the Iron Ice unit from many years ago. He was a kind of a shaman healer. Travis refused to say that Cilloos had magic healing powers, but he knew that they weren't found in just anyone.

Travis arrived at the stairwell and cut on a fingertip flashlight. He grabbed Maggie's hand and led her down the stairs. Once he got the door he banged on it twice. Travis said, "Cilloos it's Colonel Travis I need your help." There was no response and he knocked again. Still no response and then finally Maggie said, "Excuse me sir, Mr. Cilloos my name is Maggie and we could really use your help." Travis looked at Maggie for a moment and then there was movement inside. A voice, with great age to it, said, "What do you want Randall? I have no use for you." Travis replied, "The young lady with me is General Stibold's granddaughter."

Just then the door opened and out stepped a man with long white hair and long white beard, wearing a blue robe, bandages across his eyes carrying a cane. He said, "Stibold? Did you manage to get him killed Randall? Not surprised, you always were careless."

Maggie replied, "Excuse me Mr. Cilloos, but I don't think you should be talking to Colonel Travis that way. He is great leader and a fine soldier."

Cilloos looked over to Maggie and then felt around and found Travis. He asked, "Is she for real?"
Travis nodded and replied, "All five foot two of her. She has written on her body the passcodes and other info about Central One. She can bring about the end of the Illuminati."

Cilloos shook his head and said, "Follow me." The three made their way into the basement as the door closed behind them. They entered a dimly room with various books and jars on the shelves and a table in the middle of it. Cilloos said, "All right Little Miss Sunshine disrobe and lay on the table."

Maggie replied, "Excuse me, but I have a name and I'd prefer you use it please."

Cilloos as he gathered various items said, "And I'd prefer to have my sight back, so we're both in for disappointing evening. Now do what I said before I throw you both out."

Travis said, "All right both of you knock it off." Just then Cilloos said, "Hey! I'm not one of your soldiers Randall! I am doing this for a man that I fought and bled with not one of his lackeys who can't tell the difference between three and five on a timer."

As Cilloos approached the table and said, "That's right Sunshine because of Randall over there I'm as blind as a bat now. He screwed it up and cost us a lot of good people that day."

Finally Travis barked, "You don't think I lost something precious to me that day? Catherine! I lost her that day! She sacrificed herself to save me! So spare me the Martyr crap Cilloos. I lost the woman I loved more than life itself!"

Cilloos stopped and said, "You told me she committed suicide to avoid capture."

Travis took a step forward as Cilloos began mixing various chemicals. He said, "It was the worst fight I've ever been in. We were at the rail yard and outnumbered 5 to 1 and I made the decision to set off a set of charges to take as many Illuminati soldiers with us. Catherine watched as I set them for five minutes. She nodded and then knocked me out. She then had a soldier carry me away from the battle feeling I was more needed in the unit told them there was five minutes to get out. Cilloos was working on someone and the soldiers gave the orders to clear out in five minutes. The charges went off at three minutes, but Cilloos was near an old gas line. It went off and blinded him. So Cilloos we both lost something we value that day."

Cilloos nodded as he began to apply a balm on Maggie. He said, "Indeed we did. Indeed we did Randall."
When he was done he said, "Okay Little Miss Sunshine get dressed. The balm I put on you will prevent any future scaring or marks appearing on you. The codes on your body will remain in tact."

Maggie got up and said, "Thank you Cilloos." She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Cilloos shook his head and said, "All right get going before the patrols come back through here. Take care…" He smiled as he said, "Maggie." Travis said, "Thank you Cilloos." Cilloos turned to him and said, "Good luck Colonel." Cilloos leaning on his cane saluted Travis who said, "As you were soldier."

Maggie and Travis began to make their way back to their base camp. She asked, "So tell me if we win this? Can I call you by your first name?"

Travis shook his head and said, "If we win this you can call me whatever you want."

 

[The Mood is Write]

@MST3K 4ever
Nice stuff again! I really adore Maggie, especially! ♥

 

[Ravenfrost]

A Clerical Error

Vargo leaned back from the stack of paperwork and sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. He was a clerk in the Office Of Prayer And Healing (OO-PAH), a division of the Department of Very Minor Miracles.

Ever since they had to punish that blasted Mxi for his most recent insubordination by forcing him to serve the general public for the next six months with free healing services, OO-PAH had been flooded with requests.

Anticipating the responses, the Office even hired an assistant for Mxi at the Department's expense. (It was an excellent P.R. opportunity for the Department overall!) Vargo, who handled the incoming requests, screening the applicants, and setting up appointments, was pulling overtime almost every day. And they still had two more months to go!

Mxi had, of course, tried to weasel his way out of it. "I'm a priest, not a healer!" he had blustered, storming about in his dark red robes in front of the Department head and his staff.

Well, factually, yes, he was a cleric. He was also a cheat at cards, stingy, unsociable, and rude. Regardless, his contract with OO-PAH stated that he was obligated to make use of ALL his capabilities in order to fulfill his duties. And his predicament was his own fault, the arse. Everyone around had heard him scream at Prince Frevi, "So help me, if I have to RUN to you in the middle of battle to keep you alive ONE MORE TIME, I'll do you in myself!" last month during the campaign against the Velk-mots.

Prince Frevi was nice enough about it, but his military adjutants were furious and Mxi was immediately recalled back to the capital city.

"I don't care if you're a priest or a flying pig," replied the Department head calmly. "You not only insulted the prince but threatened to kill him in front of witnesses. You will sign an agreement to perform healing services from the comfort of OO-PAH's main hospice for the next six months or spend the next sixty years doing hard labor in the salt mines of Cilloos." He shrugged. "Your choice."

"If you decide to stay, we even have an assistant for you." An open-faced young man of bright red hair and small stature was pushed forth. "Nickl Britebee."

The lad blushed and bobbed his head. "I'm not very good at magic yet, but I'll do my best!"

Mxi gave Nickl his most ferocious scowl, causing the young man to involuntarily take two steps back which pushed the Department head into a pitcher of water which went flying. It was not a felicitous moment.

Naturally, Mxi caved, signing the agreement in triplicate with a darkened countenance, making the procedure as disagreeable as possible, even quibbling over the quality of writing instrument provided. "When was the last time you bought yourself a new quill?" he snapped at the poor secretary who had spread the paperwork out on the table.

When he had signed each document, Mxi straightened up and glared with great hauteur at everyone in the room. "I trust this won't interfere with my attendance at the Copperbottom Symposium next week. I went to a great deal of trouble to obtain a ticket for a front-row seat." (Mxi was a fiend for new inventions and had been talking to himself for days about the steam-powered pigeons that were to be on display.)

The Department head gave a slight bow and said smoothly, "Indeed, you need not worry about that. We could hardly do less for one kin to the great demon-king of the Velk-mots."

(Mxi had the delusion that he was the child of demons, despite the fact that they had tested his claims and Mxi showed no signs of being anything other than a normal, if bad-tempered, human being. No hooves, no tail, no pointed ears, no demonic powers. Normally, the government wasn't exactly keen on hiring delusional, ill-tempered priests, but Mxi was highly talented and thus, useful.

True, no human family could be found for him; it seemed he had simply appeared at age six in the middle of the capital's market square, dressed in strange clothes and babbling a foreign language. Unable to locate his parents, he had been put in an orphanage, eventually catching the notice of the Priests. Even so, Mxi insisted on people believing his story, despite there not being one shred of proof. Mxi being Mxi, he was usually humored, not challenged!)

Vargo pitied the patients that petitioned to be seen by Mxi, thinking they were getting a caring, gentle healer. From all accounts young Britebee, his red-headed assistant, had his work cut out for him, soothing all the affronted and disgruntled people that had felt the sting of Mxi's temper. Britebee appeared to have a genius with putting people at ease with his sweet temperament and earnest demeanor.

A little bit of side gossip had come his way – Britebee seemed to be quite the pet among the ladies and was rumored to be stepping out with the lovely Malinda, the receiving clerk at the hospice, whom Mxi had been pursuing for years with no luck. Oh, that must make for an interesting atmosphere!

Vargo took a sip of water and turned to the last request on his desk, waiting to be processed. His eyelids had started to droop. Interesting. A noble lady from a neighboring country that had trouble walking and claimed it was from a curse. No medical reason could be found. Mxi might even find this challenging instead of tedious.

Looking at the next page of the lady's document, it appeared she had been prescreened by the head of the Department himself, so there was no need for Vargo to do it. Thanks be to the gods!

As there was a note attached that marked it as urgent, Vargo stamped it approved, ruthlessly rearranged one of Mxi's appointments for the next afternoon, then called a page into his office to have the response delivered immediately to the hotel where the lady was staying. Anything for a friend of the boss! Hopefully, this would send a little appreciation Vargo's way. Oh yes!

Unfortunately, Vargo's tired eyes failed to recognize that the signature on the screening document (verifying the lady was who she claimed to be) bore no resemblance whatsoever to the Department head's bold scrawl…

It was early afternoon the next day, when a litter was brought into the hospice by four strong runners, bearing upon it a very large and proud-faced lady, richly dressed and wrapped in robing that covered her lower limbs and feet. An officious-seeming person of uncertain gender (extremely short, bespeckled, and dressed in loose grey clothing) preceded the litter with paperwork and thrust it at the clerk at the receiving desk, without a word.

Malinda looked the paperwork over while politely pretending not to hear the grunts and struggles of the runners trying to get their client through the front door without dropping her.

"Oh yes, it appears everything is in order," Malinda chirped. "Please proceed to the waiting room through that entrance." She gracefully pointed to a wide portal, flanked with elegant pillars and smiled sunnily.

The grey-clad person attempted to snatch back the paperwork, but Malinda would not loosen her grip on it.

"I'm sorry, but I must keep this for our records," gasped Malinda.

Her opponent howled with a terrible noise, such as Malinda had never heard. It might have shocked the girl into loosening her grip, had she not been such a diligent worker. The papers began to tear in two from the strain.

The noble lady who had finally made it through the entrance snapped out a word in a language unknown to Malinda and the creature dropped back from the fray, reluctantly. Malinda stared in astonishment. Footsteps rang out, as Mxi and Britebee came running to the front desk.

"I'm trying to digest my lunch," yelled Mxi, "what the hell is going on here?"

"Hell is exactly right," replied the noble lady, leaping off the litter, displaying her long blue tail.

Britebee blanched, shooting to Malinda's side. "My love, are you unharmed?" he asked anxiously.

Malinda blushed and put one hand on Britebee's arm, "All is well, Nickl," she replied a little shakily.

"But alas, it is not," said the blue-tailed lady, wickedly.

"I knew it," snapped Mxi, staring crossly at his would-be patient. "My kind has come back for me after all these years. But too late! Ten years ago, even five, perhaps I might have welcomed you with open arms and given you the keys to this city. But now! Perdition take you all!"

The demoness laughed. "Oh, what a fool you are. How amusing. You were just a scientific study. No, it is this one here that I seek."

She pointed to Nickl Britebee (who thrust Malinda protectively behind his back), and then she-demon dropped to one knee. "My lord, I pray you do your duty. Your father has fallen in battle and you are now king of the Velk-mots. You and I and many others have infiltrated the city as ordered until our numbers are now great. Give the command and we shall turn the streets red with the blood of our enemy by nightfall."

And she laughed in a most eerie way that made Malinda drop to her knees, her nerves shattered.

Britebee looked at Malinda regretfully. "I'm horrified you have to see this, my darling," he whispered and transformed into his true shape. Which was a tall, lithely-muscled demon, with nicely curled horns, dark blue skin, pointed nails, long dark silky hair, and an extremely handsome visage. Malinda stared up at his wicked sultry eyes and reviving, felt her pulse beat madly.

"You don't have a tail," shouted Mxi, extremely vexed and waving his hands in the air. "How can you be a demon, if you don't have a tail!?"

Britebee and the demoness ignored him.

"Look here," boomed Britebee in displeasure (Britebee, of course, was not his REAL name), "you people have made quite a mess of things."

A hush fell over the room. The demoness stopped smiling and the little grey creature started to scrabble away.

"You! Snarkling! Stay right where you are," snapped Britebee, moving away from the receiving desk and pacing the floor.

The snarkling froze in mid-crawl.

"I'm tired of all these petty wars for glory and bragging rights among the nobles, using up all our resources for their games, while our kingdom itself falls further into decay."

"But, but…decay is nice!" sniffed the demoness tearily.

Britebee lashed out with his pointed nails and slashed her across the face, roaring even louder. "Do NOT interrupt me and NEVER contradict me!"

He resume pacing. "NOW. All of our people can simply pack their bags and head back home, WHERE, I promise you, there will be a full accounting of everything that had transpired to date. I, on the other hand, plan to negotiate a treaty with these humans, and marry a human bride, if she and they are agreeable to my plan. My subjects have caused enough trouble. And I have great plans for the future."

He gave the demoness the stinkeye as if daring her to protest.

"ANY Velk-mot that crosses me, WILL be turned to ash by the power that resides me. No conversations over tea, no trials. Now begone, all of you, and spread the word immediately!"

Britebee growled and the litter bearers, the grey snarkling, and the demoness high-tailed it out the door.

Britebee changed back to his human-seeming self and looked sheepishly at an irritated Mxi and a wide-eyed Malinda. "Ah, hmm. Sorry about that, things got a little out of hand."

Mxi grunted. "So mild-mannered Nickl Britebee gets to be the hero and save the human race. And here I thought it would somehow turn out to be me. You must think it's quite the joke."

His former assistant smiled angelically. "Mxi, you will always be the big bad thing that everyone is terrified of. In fact, I would like you to be the liaison in my negotiations with your government for peace. Please consider doing so."

Mxi pursed his lips thoughtfully at this, appearing a bit more cheerful, and trudged back to his office for a well-deserved drink, while Malinda gave her lover a tearful sniffle.

"Malinda, my heart! What's wrong, darling? Did that ill-mannered woman frighten you? Do I frighten you?" asked Nickl worriedly, holding out a tentative hand to her.

"You're getting marrrried," she wailed, horrified to hear her voice climb up a scale.

Understanding smoothed Nickl Britebee's brow. "Only to you, if you'll have me," he said softly.

"Oh Nickl," she gasped joyfully, flinging herself into his arms. "And will you, you know, turn blue for me?" she asked shyly.

"You have only to ask, my beloved," pledged the demon king.

Thereafter, to the joy of many, peace was restored to the kingdom as a treaty was formed between demon and humankind. And never was Nickl Britebee seen in human shape again except for when he and wife attended social functions. For reasons that only Malinda knew best.

 

[The Mood is Write]

@Ravenfrost
Ohoho. Malinda, you dirty, dirty bird!

Damn good stuff, Rave. x) Damn good.

 

[Ravenfrost]

Ohoho. Malinda, you dirty, dirty bird!

Hah! You made me laugh!

Thanks so much for the feedback and your continuing hard work with these exercises!

 

[Mami Tomoe]

The noises of combat roared around the party. The small group of six had merely been on their way to a neighboring town in order to gather supplies for the long journey ahead. Unfortunately, they had been caught in a skirmish between two, rivaling groups. After choosing a side, the battle had erupted around them.

Gwyn sliced through an unlucky bandit with his rapier, watching as the darkly-clothed man fell to the ground. The rabbitkin whirled around at the sound of approaching footsteps, raising his weapon just in time to block another attack. He made a quick movement upwards, causing his opponent to let go of their weapon. While they were unarmed, he thrust his silver rapier forward, stabbing them through the gut. The attacker crumbled to the ground, simply another casualty.

A pained cry from one of his allies caused him to direct his attention over to Coal--whose wing was now bleeding. Although the ravenkin could most likely fight without it, it wasn't a risk that Gwyn wanted to take. He would never admit that he actually cared for Coal, but he did care very much.

"Salem!" The white-haired lord called over to their resident cleric. "Coal needs healing!" Said cleric was fighting in a different area, only a few yards away. After defeating one more enemy with his hefty ax, Salem turned to address their leader.

"Hm?" The healer questioned, blackened eyes regarding him incredulously. Salem was their cleric--but by no means did he fit the kind, nice stereotype. Instead, he was oblivious, but blunt. He didn't even look like a cleric. He had never directly shown any actual intelligence or wit, but Gwyn firmly believed he was hiding some sort of dangerous trait. The only reason Salem had been allowed to join the party, was due to his astounding healing abilities. "It's only the wing..." Salem remarked.

"Heal! Him!" Gwyn demanded, furiously hacking and slashing at two opponents who had approached him. The fragile rabbitkin gave a surprised shout when his shoulder was struck by the blunt end of an ax. The white-haired lord was thrown to the ground. He closed his eyes, expecting the inevitable death blow.

But it never came. When he opened his eyes, both enemies... disappeared? Instead, Salem stood above him, wearing a small, dreamy grin.

"You should watch out more in the future." The cleric offered him a hand, but he scoffed at stood up on his own.

Gwyn's eyes searched for Coal. They were winning the battle by now, as the enemy's numbers were thinning. His gaze landed on his right hand man. It seemed that an ally cleric had healed the ravenkin, anyways... He turned to admonish Salem, only to find that their enigmatic cleric had disappeared once more.

 

[The Mood is Write]

@Mami Tomoe
Ooh, this uses a familiar name!

Also, I dig the cleric being so creepy. Nicely done!