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An adventurous place for Nano characters (or any others) to collide! |
| [Introduction] Nanowrimo put thousands of characters through all types of trouble - Communism, parallel universes, really weird plot twists, etc! Now it's time for our favorite characters to meet each other so we can collectively put them through even more! Introduce one or two of your "prize-winning" Nano characters (or any other characters you've used before OR one you just made up right now) Name: Age: Appearance: Personality: Special Skill (if any): Background: Type of Genre They Exist In (sci-fi, thriller, romance, western, etc.) |
| Name: Miles Age: 18 and 28 Appearance: Miles is gangly in his teens, and unfortunately, not much less gangly as an adult. He has black hair that is badly in need of a haircut and probably could use some conditioner as well. Not so much bad looking as he is mangy - kind of like the loveable mutt that you would give food to, but not let into your house. Personality: Both Miles' are intelligent, but the younger version is rather a bit of a doofus. He likes practical jokes and treating everyone around him, acquaintance or not, as a new friend.The older Miles has been through a lot that he'd rather not talk about anymore. He's kind of cold and distant - not half as much fun as his younger self. Special Skill: Besides the occasional time traveling (just the once) and frequent (though illegal) teleportation, Miles has no special skills. Background: In the present, when our campfire will be taking place, Miles is 28. Interestingly enough, his 18 year old self has time traveled from the past to our present. Thus, two Miles! Type of Genre They Exist In: Science Fiction |
| Name: Alim Age: 21 Appearance: Alim has light brown hair that is usually tied up in a messy ponytail. Although she has been on the run for quite a few months, her knowledge of the outdoors has kept her from being malnourished. Alim’s slight frame would be described as more on the wiry side than anything else. Personality: Alim is not a girl you would like to meet in a dark alley. Unemotional to a fault, she believes that that rational thinking is the one thing that matters above all else. Easily irritated and not afraid to get physical if she thinks you’re wrong or that you’re lying to her, she is more likely to hit you than give you a smile. Special Skill (if any): Unless having the ability to be quick on her feet and beat people up count, Alim has no special skills (that she knows of). Background: Having grown up all over Canada, Alim is currently on the run from Canadian Mounties, among other officers of the law. Type of Genre They Exist In (sci-fi, thriller, romance, western, etc.): Speculative Fiction |
| Name: Alexa Age: 22 Appearance: Alexa has dark brown hair that she allows to fall in front of her face in a rather awkward manner. She has muddy green/brown eyes and pale skin. She slouches a lot, which makes her average height appear even shorter. Personality: Alexa used to be in to the whole adventure game. Then a series of progressively boring years, following a boring childhood, and leading up to a boring future changed her mind. She's disillusioned with life, and because of that, kind of a pain. She makes a nice foil to Alim. Guiding her moral compass by whatever feels right for the moment, Alexa likes to egg people on and has little concern for personal relationships (unless they're beneficial in, for example, food acquisition) Special Skills: None whatsoever. Really. Background: Alexa has a background so bland it does not need to be discussed. However, she recently found out that there are multiple parallel universes that can be traveled to. So, you know, that's kinda cool. Type of Genre: Science Fiction (once things get started) |
| Name: Girl X Age: 15 Appearance: If one were to try and spot Girl X out in a crowd, it would be almost impossible. With brown hair that is always in messy disarray around her face and a scrawny frame with no muscles to be found anywhere, her looks verge on being alarmingly skinny. Personality: Girl X usually has a very timid personality, and is frustratingly compliant. There’s really not much else to say about her, except that the only way to make her angry is to take her food away or forget to feed her. Because she is like a pet in that she needs to be given food at least three times a day or she will not stop whining. Special Skill (if any): The only ‘skill’ Girl X has is that of annoying everyone around her with questions about anything and everything. One learns the ability to tune things out when traveling with Girl X, which could be considered a skill to some… Background: Having grown up hidden from the leaders of her communist country, Girl X is smart in a nerdy, bookish way, which translates as she needs help doing pretty much everything because she only knows things from what she’s read. She usually begins her sentences with “You know one time I read…” Type of Genre They Exist In (sci-fi, thriller, romance, western, etc.): Speculative Fiction |
| Miles was having a bad day, and it was about to get a lot worse. It had started with burnt eggs and expired orange juice. This had been an inauspicious start, to say the least, but the addition of an unwanted rip in the space-time continuum had really set the tone for the rest of the day. The rip had swallowed up his apartment's sorry excuse for a kitchen without so much as a ominous prelude or warning blip. Now he was lost. He did not know when or where he was. It was dark, which was almost an obligatory feature of such misadventures, and damp. A brief inspection of his surroundings, which involved the tried and true method of blindly patting and poking things, resulted in Miles' reluctant hypothesis that he was in the middle of a forest. He groaned pathetically to himself and sunk to the ground. He splayed his legs out in front of him, leaning back on the trunk of a particularly knobby and sappy tree. The silver buckle around his calf gleamed in the faint moonlight. He cursed it, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. It was the reason he was stuck here, the reason he could not zip happily to some more pleasant location. A beach in Cabo, a cafe off the Byway . . . anywhere with an adequate amount of lighting and the loose guarantee that he would not be mauled by a wild animal. "Why me, why me, why me?" Miles muttered to himself as he cracked his knuckles and shuffled his feet through the crackling dead leaves and moist soil that carpeted the ground. "You know one time I read that people use self-pity as a coping mechanism even though it’s hardly ever effective," a voice said rather nonchalantly from somewhere to Miles' right. "Hey! Who's there?" Miles shouted out, a little jittery as he jumped up to his feet and looked blearily towards the dark shadows, "I would prefer a talking tree, but I'll settle for friendly woodland creature." A tiny frame materialized slowly, a dark blur that Miles found difficult to discern amidst the darker shapes and shadows. "Well, I'm definitely not a tree . . . " the figure answered back. "Okay, no worries, that was a bit of a long shot anyway," Miles said, scratching his head, "Who are you then? And where are we?" "Hmm I don't know if I should tell you who I am - you still being a stranger and all - but I can tell you where we are. We're most definitely in Canada." Miles groaned for the second time that day. He slumped back down towards the ground, and put his head in his hands. "This is just dandy," he finally said, scrunching up his face and massaging his temples. And then the gunfire started. |
| Alim had just sat down to eat her roasted corn—which had been stolen via black smudges all over her face and hands, rolls and tumbles throughout the corn field, and a stealthy pair of hands which took the biggest ears of corn she could find—when she heard mumbling outside of her well-hidden campsite. She noiselessly crept to the tree closest to what sounded like low grumbling. Cautiously peering around, Alim frowned—it was too dark to see anything. She tilted her head, trying to make out what the object was doing or saying. It appeared to be low on the ground, and oddly enough, the only thing it seemed capable of saying was “Why me, why me.” Alim rolled her eyes at the overly dramatic moaning, then grinned—this…thing which seemed to be human was quite literally wallowing on the ground in self-pity and could easily provide her some well deserved and needed entertainment. "You know one time I read that people use self-pity as a coping mechanism even though it’s hardly ever effective.” Alim responded lazily, having found herself a nice niche on the tree she was currently leaning on. "Hey! Who's there? I would prefer a talking tree, but I'll settle for friendly woodland creature." Alim surmised him to be a young man—most definitely human she thought disappointedly. Having hoped for a talking turtle or tortoise, Alim had thought the voice coming from so low to the ground was just that until he had jumped up in alarm. Alim leaned forward in amazement—it appeared that this person, although not a turtle, had the ability to hover above the ground! However upon closer inspection she realized that he was just much taller than she had realized. Rolling her eyes at both her foolishness and the improbable hope of talking inanimate objects, she grumbled back "Well, I'm definitely not a tree…” What a dumb kid, he thinks that inanimate objects can talk? At least turtles are a species that talks in their own turtle language—do trees communicate with anyone or anything? She continued the rant, muttering to herself. “Who are you then? And where are we?" His questions finally got through to Alim. Who is this guy, part of the police or something? She mouthed silently while shifting her pose to accommodate her now folded arms. Raising her voice she replied, "Hmm I don't know if I should tell you who I am - you still being a stranger and all - but I can tell you where we are. We're most definitely in Canada." Opening her mouth to ask him the same questions, she was interrupted by bullets piercing the air around them. Groaning in disbelief, she crouched to the ground, trying to discern which direction the barrage of gunfire was coming from. Looking over at the boy, Alim was surprised to see that he wasn’t screaming in fear or pain. Having deduced that the shooting was coming from the west—opposite the direction her campsite was located, she decided that the best move would be to retreat. “Kid, follow me if you want to live.” She hissed at her new companion while slowly inching backwards. Alim wasn’t sure if the shooters were aiming for her or for him, but if it was for her, the small amount of kindness she had wouldn’t let someone else die for what might have been an attack on her. Tree boy appeared to have heard her and copied her every move until they arrived back at her campsite. Once hidden by her simple ‘A’ frame shelter, Alim moved around the small area, collecting her small arsenal of weapons. “Whoa, where are you going with all this stuff?” tree boy—who in the dim firelight appeared to be closer to her age than Alim originally thought—questioned with a raise o his brow. Alim turned to him with a frown, “Did you already forget that we just narrowly escaped people shooting at us tree boy? Obviously I’m going out there to fight them.” She said while adroitly checking that her guns were loaded and cocked. “Well as fun as that sounds, I think you have missed your chance. Listen—it sounds like they’re leaving.” Alim listened as well, then cursed. “Why did they get to have all the fun?” she said with a frown, throwing herself onto the ground. “I don’t know if shooting constitutes as fun for you, but not getting shot has just made my list.” Alim shot him a glare, “Well shooting back at people trying to kill you might not be the most fun thing ever, but it’s necessary. If only I had brought my sidearm with me instead of my knife.” She sighed disappointedly. “You are definitely the strangest girl I have ever encountered, and that’s saying something.” Alim snorted derisively “Oh yeah? I’ve come across people and things that would make the things you’ve seen seem like nothing.” Tree boy smiled and shook his head, “If you’ve seen more than me, I will literally kill a crow and eat it in its entirety.” Cracking his knuckles out of nervousness as well as to build anticipation, he opened his mouth and replied: |
Name: Cecilia Age: 16-17 Appearance: Cecilia, or her friends called her Cici, is a petite girl only standing 5 feet and 1 inch tall. Her style is tomboyish and normally wears t-shirt with some sort of funny or entertaining design and jeans. She tends to drown herself in big puffy jacket, scarf, gloves and earmuffs in the winter, which make her looks at least twenty pounds heavier. Her long dark locks hardly ever fixed, beside the normal combing, and they just falls over her shoulders. The hazel eyes fits perfectly on her small heart-shape face along with naturally pink pouty lips. Personality: She’s usually quiet around strangers or in a big group of people. Everyone, who doesn’t know her, tends to conclude that she’s a shy girl. When they do get to know her on a friendly term, however, they will find her very talkative with a sharp tongue. She’s clever with comebacks and full of jokes. She’s considerate of her friends’ feeling and tries to be a good friend to them. She’s a daydreamer and finds herself lost in her own mind randomly throughout the day; Hence, her clumpishness. She dreams about possessing superpower, being born in a high social status class or becoming an extraordinary and important person, while she likes her real life to be as normal and drama-free as a teenage can keep. Special Skill (if any): Does daydreaming all the time counts as a special skill? Background: Modern with a hint of fantasy-feel |
| "Look, let's just put it this way: I've seen myself die. You got that?" "Yeah, crybaby, I got it," Alim replied dryly, "Now I know you're an idiot and a liar." "You come off as prickly, you know that? Just thought I should warn you, us being new friends and all. Might want to, I dunno, work on that or something." Alim snapped her head around, her full focus shifting from her beloved weapons to the infuriating tree boy who was now sitting in her shelter. Her eyes blazed hatred. "You got any food around here?" the boy asked, oblivious, "I'm famished. Haven't ate anything since breakfast, and the old tummy is really shrieking, if you know what I mean." "Get out," Alim said softly through gritted teeth. The boy simply smiled back and began rummaging around through the meager sacks that lay in the corner of the shelter. "It's been awhile since you hit up a grocery store, huh? Can't say the thought of stale bread really excites the palate too much . . . " Alim was done. She had been curious before, not too many refugees ever made it this far into the forests, but this boy was not worth it. She had saved his worthless life and, against her better judgment, had brought him to her shelter. That was not a mistake she would ever repeat again. Now he was touching her things and talking to her with a disdainful amount of familiarity. The tree boy was halfway through a disturbing sack of knives and what looked like C4 when the blow came. He barely registered a ringing between his temples and a throbbing behind his head before he felt himself being hauled up and thrown out of the shelter. "Hey! What was that for?" he complained, massaging his head, "I mean, kudos for the disproportionate strength to size ratio you got going on, but really?! Was that necess-“ "Shut up!"' Alim interrupted loudly, "Do you ever stop talking? No, don't answer that. There's such a thing as a rhetorical question. I want you to get out and never come back. If you return, I will either severely maim you or kill you. But, now that I think about it, I'll probably, most definitely, kill you." "Is this banter?" the tree boy asked, wincing, "If it is, I think the levels of animosity are a tad high." "No! This is not banter," Alim growled, "Some of us are trying to survive. I suggest you find some other friend to put up with your squabblings and save your idiot life." "Yeah, maybe we can talk about that more," he said, perking up, "I kinda just . . . arrived here, you see. Is this some sort of war zone or something?" Alim took a deep breath in a rare attempt to calm her temper. "I'll make this simpler for you," she said finally, slowly easing her sidearm from out of its thigh-strapped holster, "I'm going to count to ten. When I reach ten, I will shoot you. Any questions?" "Tough childhood, eh? Okay, okay, don't look at me like that. I get it. Walking away now." Alim breathed out as the figure disappeared through the trees and the sound of his footsteps faded away. She lowered her sidearm. A few minutes later, she was settling into a nice session of weapon organization when she heard movement from outside. She peaked out of her shelter, gun at the ready, and saw the boy standing, hands in the air, a few yards away. "I surrender, white flag, all that good stuff," he called out, "Parlay? Anything that won't get me shot." She groaned inwardly. "What do you want?" she asked flatly. "Help," he answered, "I'm new to the area, like I said. I just need to know the way to the nearest city. A little food would be nice too." Alim frowned. Either this stranger truly was an idiot or he was playing her. There was no way he could have found himself here and not have been aware of the conflicts that were unfolding around them. Refugees and runaways made this forest their home. Besides the too frequent presence of the police no others ventured this far. There was something off with this boy. "Who are you?" she questioned guardedly. "You really want to know?" "That's why I asked," Alim growled back. The boy grinned suddenly and stuck out his hand. "The name's Miles, Miles Lodair. It's a pleasure to meet you, Gazalonia. That's the name I've been calling you in my head. I'm not sure why. It just seemed to fit. Do you want to tell me your name, or should I continue thinking of you as Gazalonia? I wouldn't mind, to be honest. I really think I just stumbled upon a wildly successful new name. I'd name my kid Gazalonia. Wouldn't you?" Alim could feel a headache forming. She looked wistfully at the array of weapons laid out behind her. The easiest and happiest solution would be to silence this annoying nuisance. Unfortunately, it would probably not be the smartest thing to do. Not until she knew who this boy was and what his game was. There was a shuffling noise, twigs breaking and the sound of soft footsteps in the near distance. Alim motioned Miles to stay quiet, putting one finger to her lips. She gestured him back and moved closer towards where the sounds had been. Her sidearm was at the ready as she peered carefully through the trees. "What's going on?" Miles whispered loudly in her ear, an eager look on his face. Alim sighed and elbowed him strongly in the ribs. As he gasped in shocked pain, she gestured to stay quiet once again, drawing a line across her throat as an added threat. "Someone's coming," she mouthed silently, turning her attention back to the shadows in eager anticipation, "And they're probably not a friend . . . " |
| The quiet patter of footsteps slowly came to a stop a few yards to the left of where they were standing. Alim crouched, preparing to spring onto their would be attacker. Miles looked down on her with a frown, “Why are you resting so close to the ground? Can it help you hear more clearly?” Without looking up, she motioned to her mouth in a ‘zip it or you’ll regret it’ motion. He swallowed loudly and pantomimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing the key behind his shoulder. Alim rolled her eyes, it would be best if she just attacked now—with all the noise Miles was making, it was getting more and more likely their anonymous creeper would surprise them with an attack instead of them—but mostly her—surprising them. She motioned for Miles to stay where he was, and quietly crept forward. “Just because she’s got enough arsenal to have her own army doesn’t mean she can order me around.” He muttered to himself, before trying his hardest to soundlessly follow her footsteps. Alim crept to the approximate place where she had last heard noises, and held her breath, trying to hear if the person was still there. She frowned in confusion; there were definitely noises coming from around the bush, but it sounded more like someone pulling leaves or berries off the bush between them. She stealthily crept around the bush to a clearing, and jumped out, prepared to do battle. “What? They’re gone?” Miles cried disappointedly behind her. “I’ll be the first to admit, this was a real disappointment Gazalonia. You made it seem like it would be this big event, us working together to catch the bad guys, and it led to a dead—” Alim turned around and glared at him. “Didn’t I tell you to stay back? If this had been an attack, you could have endangered both of our lives!” “You care about my life? That’s so very gallant of you—this clinches it, I’m staying with you while I’m here.” Alim smiled at this and changed her tone. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. It’s been hard living by myself with no one annoying to constantly talk to me. Want to help me prepare dinner?” She motioned to something in her hands. He immediately perked up at this, “Sure! What’re we having? I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent chopper of vegetables. Can’t forget about those veggies and fruits, you know.” “I thought we’d have this cute little rabbit I just caught. What you thought was a dead end turned out to be dinner. Good work Alim!” She crowed, praising herself. Miles had bounded the last few steps over to her when he saw the small animal lying in her hands, but stopped short when her words sunk into his head. “Dinner?! This infant of an animal? Where’s your sense of decency? Your humanity?” He yelled, trying to grab the poor animal from her grasp. “Oh jeez, calm down. I was going to suggest you cutting the meat, having had to listen to you brag about your amazing cutting skills, but I guess you can just watch me do all the work. It’s not like you’ve done anything else helpful.” Her smile becoming mischievous while adroitly evading his awkward bounds towards her into an odd sort of dance. “Helpful? I’m sure poor Peter will say differently once I free him from your death grip.” “Peter, as in Peter Rabbit? Props for the original name, as well as getting attached to our dinner.” Alim mocked. “Have you no heart? How can you kill Peter and eat him!” Miles protested. “Yeah, well I’m not sure where you’re from, but out here it’s eat or be eaten. Or in this case, eat or die of starvation. So you don’t need to any of it, but don’t complain about being hungry. I think it was pretty nice of me to offer my friendship and some of my dinner to you, but whatever.” Miles suddenly gasped, “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? You never wanted to be my friend, you wanted to scare me away from you! Well you should be proud to know that as the first Canadian I have ever met, you have showed me that all the stereotypes about you are true.” He said wide-eyed, still in shock over this turn of events. Alim grimaced at his words. Although many believed her to be heartless, her first real friends had been Canadian, and it felt disloyal to them for this kid to slander their good name. “It was just a joke, sheesh. Don’t they tell jokes from wherever you’re from?” She asked, trying to distract him into changing the subject. Miles sadly stared at her for a few moments before breaking out into raucous laughter. “Tricked you!” He crowed. “Wow, I really had you going there. I was just kidding, don’t worry. I’m sure not all Canadians are as abrasive as you are—that doesn’t seem possible!” Alim rolled her eyes and ignored his jibes. It seemed accepting his taunts would be the least she could do—and if he planned on eating dinner, she would definitely be having the last laugh. Luckily he was so busy waving his arms in the air to emphasize his point he didn’t notice that she had stuck the rabbit—or Peter, as he called it—into a small bag, which she tied to her belt. She began walking back to camp, and Miles continued to talk to her, either ignoring or unnoticing that Alim was tuning him out. Just outside the entrance of shelter, she abruptly halted, reaching an arm out to stop Miles from entering as well. She cautiously peered around the side of her shelter before rolling her eyes and stepping forward. “Who the hell are you and why are you sitting in my shelter?” Alim demanded to the puffy bundle sitting next to her fire. |
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