[Faroul's Scrapook] The Oasis

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The player scrapbooks forum is literally a place for writers to warm-up, brainstorm, keep little scraps of notes, or just post things to encourage themselves and each other. Each player can feel free to create their own thread - one per account - and use them accordingly.

[Faroul's Scrapook] The Oasis

Postby Faroul on August 16th, 2011, 8:35 pm

Mini-milestone!

So today marks a milestone of sorts: my 50th post and first 30,000 words on Mizahar. It's nothing momentous; in terms of a rite of passage or stage of development, it's closer to having the training wheels come off than becoming an adult or graduating or somesuch. But I'm excited nonetheless.

Just a few days ago I was in a frustrating spot in regards to my writing. The words weren't coming, I was struggling to start a difficult post, my prime threading partner was overcome with real life, and nobody was answering my PMs. In short, I felt horribly stuck, and unsure about how my career on Mizahar would continue.

Then, of course, life has a way of poking you in the side when you're being a raincloud. I got caught up with Colombina, met the wonderful Cilaes/Chijana in chat, received a thread request from a writer here I really admire, a promise for a quest, and joined in on Tarot's Priskil deal. Things are exploding with potential and I'm kind of stunned at how much can change in two days. Shucks, you guys. Thank you.

Image
This about sums it up.


There is some weird kind of mojo that comes with writing every day. It's not something I've done for a long time - not since high school, and heck knows how long ago that was. It's also been a year since I quit playing (and hence roleplaying) in MMOs. Say what you will, it at least had me practicing improv dialogue every day. Even my posts here as Faroul have not been too frequent. But now that I've shimmied into the unmarked Priskil quest, where posts are short and often, I have this "Miza-buzz." This tingling of creative energy. Because I draw it up every day, like from deep in a well, it's always at hand. There is no horrible fighting to get into character or simply find the words. Nuts. I just hope it lasts!

Image


In the meantime of conquering the universe, here is a to-do list.

    Spring 511:
  • Finish intro thread: buy stuff and arrange lodging
  • Finish Rak'kena thread and send for grading

    Summer 511:
  • Finish flashback post for Malekiah
  • Thread with Tuwa. Time to stalk her like a creeper!
  • Thread with Izdihar (omg)
  • Reply to Chijana when she posts
  • Try not to die in the Priskil quest
  • Post-quest shenanigans with Chijana and Ma'ii
  • Make summer placeholder thread for crazy dream time with Rak'kena

    Fall 511:
    Shite, this is SOON.
  • Arrange job to hold me over til Rak'kena is back. Scorpions?
  • Inquire after modded quest with Colombina.

    Misc:
  • Edit the next part of Torc's armorsmithing article.
I think that's it. Time to go enjoy some sunshine. Awww yeaaah.
Last edited by Faroul on September 24th, 2011, 7:33 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Faroul
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[Faroul's Scrapook] The Oasis

Postby Faroul on August 29th, 2011, 1:49 pm

Notice

A notice to my threading partners:

I have been Irene'd! My town lost power early Sunday morning and it isn't due back until Thursday. This will obviously delay any posting on my part until the electricity and internet return. Thanks for your patience!

Everything is fine otherwise; nothing else has been damaged. There was some minor flooding and a lot of wind, but that's about it. See you folks soon.
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[Faroul's Scrapook] The Oasis

Postby Caelum on January 7th, 2012, 7:22 am

I'm hiding in here because I love you.

Also:

Dear Faroul,

The fuck, mate? When you gonna come down and help me shank up some bread? Promises, promises.

Kiss my ass,
Toli.
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[Faroul's Scrapook] The Oasis

Postby Faroul on February 19th, 2012, 8:34 pm

Cuttin' Room Floor

So, I ended up cutting a lot of material out of my post in Colombina's Eyktol Quest. A whole section, in fact, because it felt redundant. But I like what I had, so might as well dump it here in the ole scrapbook.

~~

20th of Winter, 511 AV
The Boat Parade

Ahnatep was a city of pleasures. Golden and green and impossibly beautiful, it had sprouted like fresh spring shoots from the rubble of a broken age, and now blossomed with all the fruits of ambition and wealth. Its decadence was fabled even beyond the sands of Eyktol; foreign merchants clambered for its linens and jewelry, perfumes and dyes, paper, salt, and grain, and artists from far-flung cities extolled its concubines and revels and monuments clothed in purpled marble. Distant people of all stripes dreamed enviously of its kings and queens in their floating palace, and even those born within the city marveled that such opulence could exist among otherwise barren wastes.

Yet, for all this panoply of luxury, the part of Ahnatep that offered Faroul the most solace was light.

He had abandoned his usual rounds in the Pillars of Dust to attend the day's festivities, settling beneath a palm tree on the estuary's shore. Safely removed from the bulk of the gathered crowd, he basked in the warm touch of the sun, lulled into a haze by the heat and the brightness that shimmered everywhere in his vision. The peace of it filled him with a relief so profound that he nearly wept, though disbelief followed soon after.

This cannot possibly be real.

It was easy to mistake it all for a dream. The parade boats seemed a glimpse of heaven, gliding through still waters and arrayed in the splendor of noble houses. It felt impossible that such things could exist – much less the sun, the open sky, or the food in his stomach – when only seasons before he had starved, wretched, in the dark. There seemed no bridge, no connection, between that place and this one; the contrast was simply too stark, too irreconcilable, for him to accept this as reality.

And yet, it was real. He could feel the sand beneath his hands, the tree at his back, the sundry aches in his own body. Faint breezes stirred his shabby coats. And there was still the sun, too hot on his skin to deny.

But no safety, his instinct warned. In Ahnatep, that much was illusion.

Stirred by the thought, he stretched and followed after the sailing cavalcade, suddenly wary of remaining in one place for too long.

Caught in the wake of passing glories - it had always been his lot.
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