Redeye

I can't go, Knight Solaire already invited me over for some jolly cooperation.

Deal Breaker: I look for smart and intelligent girls above all else. If she's a fool, she's not worth it. It's a shame that smart girls are hard to come by at my school. I know that's a stretch, but still, there are a lot of morons who go to my school who I can't stand sometimes. Important Qualities: Other than that, I look for girls who are into the same things as I am. Video games, fantasy/fiction stories, memes, lack of diligence... As for personality, I like people who are into humor of all kinds, people who are generally kind and don't frequently complain, and people who are generally fun to be around. I also like people who can keep secrets and promises, and I also look for loyalty above all else in this category. Slightly Unimportant Qualities: Looks are at the bottom of my priority list, but I do have standards and I tend to draw a line somewhere. I'm not the kind of guy who prefers a sexy thicc body, but I moreso lean towards a cute face, stature, and fashion style. As for age gaps, the minimum age I do is two years younger than me. That's as far down as I'll go. That is, that's the rule as long as I'm still a High School Senior. Maximum age is two years older than me as well. I just prefer people who are around my age. They're easier to relate to and communicate with. Yeah, I admit that I might have crazy and slightly egotistical standards. Truth be told, even if I did find someone like this, I probably wouldn't be able to get hitched. I lack confidence when it comes to relationships, for one it feels rather embarrassing to admit your affection for someone else, and also I don't have the highest self-esteem about my body. I have the charisma, but I lack the looks and courage. The only quality about my looks that I'm proud of is the fact that I have a fully grown beard and have beautiful curly hair compared to everyone else in my school. Other than that, I'm incredibly chubby and I have disgusting acne/visibly red bumps, marks, and blemishes layered all across my arms, legs, and torso. My face is okay, I generally keep that clean and cared most of the time. That's mostly why I'm not expecting to be paired with anyone anytime soon.

There's no such thing as a perfect sleeping condition. In order to get any sleep whatsoever, I require 1,000 twists and turns, a small span of 2 hours looking at my phone in a vain attempt to make myself tired, and a virgin sacrifice to the gods.

The worst injury I can remember is when I dropped a sword on my foot, blade-first. The tip stabbed into my middle toe, and I had to get 3 stitches. The funny thing is, I don't remember experiencing any pain at all. There was also a time from last year when a log of wood fell onto my big toe. The toenail cracked and started to bleed from the inside. Painful as hell, and the toenail is still growing back to this day. Other than that, there's not much else. Never broke a bone in my life. *knocks on wood*

Recently started watching this show back in the summer when Season 7 aired. I managed to catch up in 2 weeks. I'm also reading the books while I wait for Season 8, which is gonna take a loooong time to happen. My 10 favorite characters (in no particular order) so far have got to be The Hound, Arya Stark, Tyrion, Jon Snow, Ramsey Bolton, Tormund, Melisandre, Tywin Lannister, and Ser Davos. Also, is it weird that my favorite scenes in the show are the ones where a large group of protagonists are gruesomely killed off en masse? The Battle of Blackwater, The Red Wedding, The Battle of Hardhome, The Sept of Balor Destruction Scene, etc.? My sadistic mind must really enjoy seeing the good guys lose miserably.

Attractiveness: 5-7 I don't think very highly about my looks, but quite a few people I've known have told me that I look cute/handsome in a way. I either look like Kit Harrington or Jesus, but either way I can definitely conclude that the majority of people I've met are incredibly jealous about my long, naturally curly hair. In my personal opinion, though, I think I'm way too out-of-shape and I also think that I look hideous without my glasses. Intelligence: 8 Many people think that I'm a smart guy. Based on my grades in school, I think that I can agree for the most part. Does taking Computer Science classes and doing exceptionally well at them make me a genius? Kindness: 8 I tend to be nice to people most of the time. I'm a bit abrasive and antisocial during the morning, but then again, who isn't? I only act like a total asshole towards people who act like total assholes towards me. Eye for an eye, and all that jazz.

So I'm working on a novel. I'm also working on a video game. Both the novel and the video game share the same story, but are obviously going to be told through completely different mediums. Before I actually get to work on the game, I started to write a novel, that covers the first 1/3 of the story, to basically advertise the game. Sometime after I finish the game I have plans to continue the novel series as well, and finish it up. But right now, I'm fixated on book one, and I need someone or some people to possibly take a look at what I've got so far and provide advice. Technically speaking, this isn't my first novel. I started storywriting back in elementary school, but I have yet to write something original and engaging rather than book re-tellings of nostalgic video games I've played in the past. This is basically my first attempt at making a true piece of literature. The story I've been working on has been constantly revised and added upon for several years, and I haven't even managed to put it all into words yet. But now, I'm working to finally present it to the world. So far, I only have the prologue and first chapter down. 2500 words, and an average introduction. If anyone could give me their thoughts, that would be greatly appreciated. Some criticism I've already gotten was that the Prologue chapter lacked a defined perspective from any specific characters, making the chapter feel like it had no true point-of-view. The situation is different for chapter 1, but I did acknowledge the fact, anyways. The perspectiveless intro was semi-intentional, but if anyone still has a problem with it, I'll do my best to revise it soon. Word of warning: This story is actually kinda dark. That's an understatement, this story gets REALLY dark REALLY soon, at least in the prologue. It has blood, gore, and one or two small alcoholic references here and there, which is why I only recommend 18+ people to read this. Children and the faint of heart should read at their own risk. Advent of Elysium A WORLD OF BEASTS Written by Devon Flynn ("Redeye") THE BURDEN OF MAN The sky was a shade of ochre, not too bright, not too dark. The sun was slowly fading from view, with a small sliver just peeking its head above the horizon. Patches of dying grass and groups of multi-colored trees dotted the plains of Kingsdale. Towards the center of the plains, those small tree clutters began to merge and develop into a small patch of woods, peacefully sitting beside a fairly noticeable high hill. A small settlement the folks named “Southgrove” sat in the central thicket of the woods. From the top of Lord Hill, you could see the entirety of the village. About a dozen homes circled around the inner rim of the thicket, forming a cul de sac with a simplistic brick well in the center of it all. Directly next to the homes sat a handful of marketplaces, and a humble inn towards the end of the dirt road. Many of the townsfolk were scrambling to return to their homes for the evening. Parents were trying to find their children, who were busy playing around in the woods. Merchants hurried to gather all of their wares before the moon rose. Among the little display of chaos was a middle-aged woman and a young boy, most likely her child. The woman scowled as she hurried down the road, towards the local inn, with her kid in tow. The confused six-year-old briefly took a peek at the sky to see a murder of crows flying over the settlement. Their annoying caws echoed across the sky, encouraging the townspeople to make haste in their efforts to close up for the night. The child’s mother proceeded to throw the front door open to see a burly middle-aged man sitting at the tavern. He was wearing sweaty commoner’s clothing, and had a bottle of ale in hand. The man turned his head to look at her a few seconds after the door swung open. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the woman hissed, “It’s almost night-time, and we haven’t seen our daughter in hours!” “Don’t raise your voice, I’m workin’ on it …” the intoxicated man replied with a lazy voice. “‘Working on it?’ You’ve been busy chugging down beer all day, like the useless fool you are!” Across the desk, the bartender decided to head into the back, trying to ignore the heated conversation. “Oh, shuddup,” the father said, “I’m the only one who keeps this family runnin’, and you know it.” “Don’t change the subject!” she shouted, “They’re coming, and they’re gonna be here any minute now. The watchmen saw them charging in from the north!” The boy listened to his parents’ arguement. He could feel his heart pounding from the recent tension, yet he was unaware of the true danger at hand. The fact that his sister was apparently missing didn’t help the situation. Suddenly, a man’s blood-curdling scream emerged from the back of the inn. The family immediately turned their heads in horror. The gruesome sound of flesh being torn open could be heard soon after. The boy’s heart was racing faster than a speeding train, and his heavy breathing began to intensify. The father struggled to get up from his chair before slowly inching towards the door where the scream came from. Shards of wood immediately flew from the now-broken door, where a large wolf-like creature on its hind legs stood. Cries of horror flew out of the mother’s mouth as the werewolf pinned the father to the ground, sinking its teeth into his neck. The man cried out in pain as blood gushed out of his wound. Before he knew it, the ferocious beast tore his throat out, and devoured it whole. The boy could only look away as his father ceased to move. Soon after the man’s death, faint screams of terror were heard from outside, followed by the distorted moans of abhorrent Fiends. The mother quickly looked back at her husband’s corpse, when her heart skipped a beat. He was standing upright, as if he never died at all. His eyes were completely blank, but the woman could feel them staring into her soul. Black mist arose from his undead body. A few seconds later, another creature emerged from the hole in the wall. It was the headless, mutated corpse of the bartender, who now had jaundiced skin and malformed claws. A few seconds after that, the werewolf stood up, just having finished chomping at its meal. All three of them stared at the mother and her child. She quickly grabbed her child and ran, with her eyes wide open in fear. But before they could make it to the front door, they were tackled and overwhelmed by the beasts. Blood splattered across the walls as they were eaten alive. A man stood on the summit of Lord Hill, overlooking the horrific scene. He wore a grey trench coat over his commoner’s clothing. His slightly long, black hair nearly camouflaged the back of his head in the night sky, while his violet eyes glowed in the darkness. He wasn’t mortified by the massacre, instead it almost seemed as if he saw it coming. He was one of the few people in this world who understood the grim truth of mankind. He quietly watched as the Fiends slaughtered the townspeople one by one. Several homes began to burn, possibly due to stray lanterns and candles being knocked over during the chaos. The mix of horrified screams and abhorrent moans echoed throughout the woods. The man turned around and walked away from the massacre before anyone, or anything, could notice him. He understood the burden of man. The Fiends, malevolent beings born from malice and death, plagued the world of Dystopia. Those who die at the hands of a Fiend are transformed into one, themselves. For eons, they preyed on the weak, and scared the strong into their walls of safety. Wherever they go, doom follows close behind, for that is mankind’s curse. ROY Staring out into the open lake, Roy felt his usual sense of tranquility. The lake moved just like the ocean, with ripples and waves crashing against the shore. Just beyond the horizon, he saw the sun slowly rising from behind the mountains of Argenvale. The morning lake always kept him at peace. Roy inhaled the mildew surrounding him, letting it all out after a deep breath. It was just another typical day for him. He opened his eyes after his brief meditation, revealing his crimson irises. His short, pitch black hair barely moved with the incoming breeze, unlike his Saber tooth necklace, which was violently flailing in the wind. He readjusted his tanned leather jacket, which blended in with the color of the tree trunks sitting behind him. A familiar voice suddenly emerges from behind him, “Hey, Roy! What’re you doing out here?” Roy turned around to see Seth Iscariot, one of his childhood friends, standing behind him. He immediately noticed his slicked-back, almond-colored hair, and his icy blue eyes. Seth was wearing his usual everyday attire, a buttoned shirt under a fancy blue swordsman’s garb. He had a belt running along his waist, with a scabbard at his side that contained his trademarked sabre. His playful smirk tied his entire persona together. Roy replied, “Just taking in the scenery.” “You’ve been taking in the scenery a lot lately,” Seth remarked, “In an adventurous mood, I take it?” Roy smirked, looking back at the lake. It was no secret that he had a knack for adventure. He had always hoped that one day he could leave this village on his own, and traverse the vast world beyond the water. That opportunity was barely in his grasp, with his twenty-first birthday arriving in a few months. However, his training had to come first, or else he wouldn’t be prepared. “The Master’s waiting for us,” Seth said, “so we should probably get going.” “Alright, then,” Roy said as he leapt off the large boulder he was sitting on. His simple-tailored shoes collided silently with the verdant grass. The scabbard strapped to his back rattled during the impact. He owned a weapon as well, a hand-and-a-half sword he specifically named “Ember”. Leaving the shoreline, Roy and Seth walked back into the village of Lorelei, a humble farming town named after the lake it sat beside. Dragging himself along the dirt path, Roy greeted some of the familiar merchants that were at work. “Simon agreed to meeting up with us after training,” Seth reported, “we’re going on a little monster hunt, if that’s alright with you.” “Sure, I could use a little extra practice,” Roy replied, letting out a little stretch after his moment of relaxation. “They said it was some sort of plant-like creature as big as a shack, and that it takes the appearance of a sexy lady,” Seth joked. “You mean a Mandragora?” “Yeah, I think. I don’t know my Fiend types very well.” “And that’s why you have me,” Roy said, boastfully. The residential district of Lorelei was dense with oak trees. When noon came around, the sunlight that shined from the canopy created a beautiful display of green and gold. At the end of the dirt road, Roy and Seth came across a large building with two side houses attached to it. The building was made out of mahogany, and its main entrance held two seven-foot-tall doors. It was the Training Hall for swordsmen that they regularly practiced in. Roy placed his hand on one of the knobs, twisted it around, and pushed. The large building was layered with stained, unbroken windows. Straw training dummies and sword racks were neatly placed along the mahogany floor. At the end of the hall was another door that led to a stairwell leading up into the second floor. In front of the door was Mordred Achilles, Roy’s swordfighting master. He was busy meditating on a small, square rug, with his sheathed longsword laying on the floor in front of him. The old man had grey hair that reached down to his shoulders, and he had a full beard growing on his face. He wore a white martial artist’s robe that reached down to his ankles, and a black belt that wrapped around his waist. His pants were white as well. Roy looked at his Master in awe, as he always had for years. His mere presence inspired both fear and respect within others, even if he was in his most serene state. Stepping into the hall completely, Roy and Seth confronted their Master, and proceeded to sit on their knees in respect for his meditation. Mordred slowly opened his hazel eyes, “Twenty seven seconds late.” “Forgive us, Master!” the students apologized, lowering their heads in shame. “Stop apologizing, you blasted fools,” he retorted, “I swear, you two take me too seriously.” With a sighs of relief, Roy and Seth wiped the sweat off their faces. Crisis averted. Mordred rose from his meditation rug after grabbing his sword. Taking a few steps to the left wall, he dragged two of the training dummies to the center of the hall. “Today’s lesson will not be easy,” the Master informed them, “so we’ll begin with the fundamentals.” Bits and pieces of straw were scattered across the training hall. With three dummies torn to shreds, only one more remained. Roy stood in front of it, with his left arm out, and palm wide open. An orange light glowed around his hand. “Good,” Mordred acknowledged, “Concentrate on your palm, and allow your soul to give you strength. That is how magic is formed.” Seth and the master were standing behind Roy, observing his spellcasting lesson. Roy has been dabbling in the art of pyromancy, the magic of fire, for years. In order to create a flame, he needed a spark. Creating a spark without a flint and steel is a difficult obstacle to overcome, but magically producing one was an entirely different challenge. He focused on his inner being, channeling the force from within his soul in order to transmute it into magical energy. When the time was right, Roy snapped his fingers, excreting the energy from his body. Sparks flew from the tip of his index finger, shooting towards the dummy at incredible speeds. The sparks then reached the tip of the straw, igniting them. The ochre flames quickly spread across the dummy, until it was completely overwhelmed by the blaze, head to toe. Before the flames could spread farther, it was quickly extinguished by a sphere of water. Roy looked back to see that Mordred was the one who casted it. “Impressive, you seem to be getting better at this,” the master said, “But beware of your flames. Fire is the most unpredictable of the elements. You may try to save people with it, but you must know the consequences of letting it go out of control.” Roy turned around to face him and bowed, “Thank you, Master Mordred.” He glanced back at the dummy. The once-beige straw was now charred black. A mixture of smoke and vapor rose from its head. Roy was almost surprised at how perfect it was. To him, it felt like dumb luck. Catching his breath after a long, rigorous training session, Roy turned to Seth and boastfully smirked. His friend rolled his eyes in response. “Don’t relax just yet,” Mordred cut in, “There’s more to come. I expect to see you two back here in a few hours.” A sense of disappointment overcame Roy and Seth, but nonetheless, they obliged. Saying their farewells, they stepped out of the hall, and noticed the beams of sunlight emanating from the trees. On the side of one of the trees sat a short young man with his face buried in a book. He was an elf, as one could notice by taking a gander at his pointed ears and jade-colored hair. Elves were always known for their unnatural hair colors, but other than that, they closely resembled humans in every other way. Readjusting his rectangular glasses, the elf noticed Roy and Seth strolling towards him. He was Simon Vortigern, another one of Roy’s close friends. “There you are! I’ve been wondering how long it would take you to finish,” Simon remarked. “Good to see you, too, Simon,” Roy sarcastically replied. The three friends chuckled for a brief moment. Afterwards, they went ahead and strolled back towards the marketplace, until Roy felt a light grumble emerging from his stomach. “Mind if we grab a bite to eat before we go hunting?” he asked, slightly embarrassed. “Not at all, where to?” Simon inquired. “Vashi’s food cart, obviously,” Seth pitched in. He knew about Roy’s undying love for spicy curry. It’s no wonder why he desired to eat there at every opportunity. Roy only smirked, acknowledging his friend’s insightfulness. All three of them joked around as they strutted towards the food court. ------------------------------------------------------- So this is all I have so far. Damn this forum for not allowing the Tab key to perform its intended purpose! Right now, I'm kind of happy how the first chapter turned out, but for some reason I don't have much confidence in my dialogue. I just feel weird whenever I write it, like I'm unknowingly doing something wrong. But anyways, thanks for reading. Hopefully I can get some good criticism from this.

Well, technically speaking, the character in my avatar eats Demons... and Humans... with her left arm. She's kind of badass. I would say that your avatar has a habit of eating kittens in order to make itself bigger. An abomination who feasts on innocent animals in order to eventually gain enough power to devour all in its wake. The Cat-Eating Ooze!

Possibly some sort of obscure, magical fruit from another planet. Because mysteriousness?

Pretzels... dipped in Peanut Butter!

The only thing that these games have going for them are their stories. That's about it.

Well that was rude. Just out of spite, I'm gonna post again.

Now I can prove to others that I am exceptionally good at ruining peoples' days!

To add on to these good ideas, have your villain WIN the majority of the conflicts that he/she brings upon the protagonist. Make the protagonist feel seemingly helpless the moment the villain's plan goes in motion. In order to make your villain intimidating, you need to make him/her smart and victorious, but you also need to try not to write yourself into a corner by making them too powerful.