The Scenario Room

[Pyre]

Any more scenario questions for us to begin working on?

[absgg911]

This isn't really finished, but I didn't want to continue it so here it is.

Alice,
You are cordially invited to a reunion of the family tomorrow, at your uncle’s castle. Please arrive at six o’ clock and be punctual. Your parents have received the same invitation, and they would like it if you helped prepare the food.

Love,
Aunt Salina

Alice sighed and crumpled up the paper before throwing it in the trash can next to her bed. She hadn’t seen her aunt and uncle, the Duke and Duchess of Montgomery in, what, nine years? Grumbling, she picked up her skirts and walked down the steep staircase in her current residence. The lilac castle could hardly be called a home, since her family moved almost every year or two. She walked into the kitchen where her mom was up to her elbows in flour.

“Come help,” she said, motioning to the bowl of frosting that evidently needed stirring. Despite being Lady Ophelia she was still always in the kitchen, baking something or other. Alice walked over to the bowl of frosting and began stirring.

“Mom,” she started, in a whining voice, “do I really have to go to the reunion?”

Her mom gave her a scolding look as she poured the batter into a pan and stuck it in the stove. “You know very well the answer to that question, young lady.” She then looked down at the bowl which Alice had stopped stirring and shoved her daughter aside, stirring the frosting quickly.

“Fine mom, what do you want me to wear?”

“The purple dress will do fine. And don’t forget to put out your shawl too, you know how the draft from the lake comes up at their castle.” Looking up again, she scowled at Alice. “I don’t see why you put those blue highlights in your hair, they’re quite unbecoming.”

“Whatever mom.” Alice lifted her skirts again and trooped back up the stairs, swishing into her closet. Grabbing the clothes she laid them on her bed, then sat down. “Well this should be fun,” she mumbled under her breath.

* * *

“OW!” Alice was on her way to her uncle’s and the road was getting rocky. They had just hit a particularly large bump, and she had flown in the air, landing solidly on her bottom.

“Hush sweetie,” her mom said, patting her knee. “It’s really not that bad.”

Alice scowled at her from underneath some hair that had flown into her face. She grumbled under her breath as her mother tucked her hair behind her ear and began lecturing her about ‘behaving correctly’. Suddenly, the coach jerked to a stop and the driver opened the door to her left. Climbing out of the car she walked up to the door, making sure not to trip on her purple heels. As soon as she knocked the door, it was opened by a servant, and her aunt bustled around the corner. She was…larger than Alice had remembered and she almost physically shuddered at the sight of her coming around the corner, orange skirts swishing underfoot.

“Why, don’t you look pretty!” She grasped Alice’s face in both hands, then squealed as she noticed Alice’s mother coming up with the cake. “My favorite!” Hugging her mother she took the cake and pranced into the dining room, the chocolate cake in her arms.

Alice followed her aunt and almost groaned as she saw almost all her relatives there. Her cousins were around the food stuffing it down their throats, and her uncle was talking to her grandparents at the table. As her mom strode past her into the room she began to back up and ran upstairs to another room. “Why am I in such a hideous family?”

[Lady Hammer]

As a matter of fact, I do!


Let's say that your character's parents are either dead or missing. Either one is fine, it's completely up to you. Let's also say that the only living paternal or maternal figure is an aunt or uncle (pick one), and they are dying and are in the hospital or something.

They call for your character, and tell you a HUGE SECRET. Perhaps your siblings were actually half-siblings, you had a different mother/father; you have sibling that you never knew existed; the family is a race of something in particular - SOMETHING HUGE. Whatever fits into your story.

Upon learning this, how does your character react? What are their thoughts about the parents, the aunt/uncle who told them, about the information in particular... does it change their goals? Their ideals? Everything that they had ever once thought about certain people? Please be as idepth as you can, and remember what actions say about a character.

A character who acts indifferently means that they can't derive any real pleasure or any real pain from anything in life. A character who acts angry is different from one who acts sad, and one who acts happy may mean that they knew about something secret all along, and have been waiting for it to be revealed, saying that this particular character of yours is optimistic.

Keep things in mind like inner dialogue, also. NOW GET TO IT! ^^

[The Pilot]

"My son..." her voice was fearfully feint. To me it seemed that with every word she spoke, every exhale, life was draining from her much like water through fingers.

"Mother, no... no... come now."

Her legs could no longer support any weight that I could not carry, and her body crumpled in my arms. I fell to my knees and brought her head, matted with dirt and blood, to rest in my lap. My only surviving friend, Voronwë, knelt beside me and held her hands tightly.

"My son," she repeated. "Narthas..."

There was a tightness in my chest and my eyes burned. I could not help but stroke her hair with my shaking hand. "Rest now, Lady. Rest... and when you awake, we will be in the Immortal Lands. That is where the Lady Idril leads us now. Rest, and we will be there soon. I swear it..." I stumble over my words. A small noise escaped her lips, her eyes beginning to close. I will not allow it! "No! No, come now..." I gently patted her cheek and her eyes opened again.

"Narthas, my son. There is a thing that you must know ere I depart..."

"You shall not go to any place that I cannot follow. Beyond those hills, mother!" I looked up and pointed to a stunted range away west. "Just beyond them lies the sea! Stay with me and we will reach the Golden Shores together!"

"Nay, boy," she whispered. Then, to my surprise, she smiled weakly. "The Vala Mandos beckons me to his Halls. But I will tell you now a thing that you never perceived with your own eyes. Your father loved me once, my son. Please forgive him, as I have done, and you will be at peace."

I found no words that I could say to this. I merely stared at her, tears flowing freely down my face.

"I love you, meamin." With these words, the last bit of life that she clung to was freed from her. My mother was still.

My hands snaked behind her head and let it down to the ground carefully as I rose to stand. A tear fell from my cheek and was lost in her dark hair, though still I was silent. I wept until Voronwë came to my side, and he laid a hand, heavy with grief, on my shoulder.

"Narthas..."

I shrugged him away violently, raising my eyes to Manwë's skies above. "Tell him!" I shouted to the Lord of the gods. "Tell my father, the betrayer of Gondolin, who now wanders amid the Halls of the Dead, that his bastard son shall never forgive his treachery, his lies, or his malice!" I fell to my mother's side and wept even more than before, my throat sore and voice broken.

My friend and I dug a shallow grave for my mother on the wayside. It was then that I decided to leave the group of sorrowful refugees to perhaps find better fortunes among men. But now and above all else, I felt the need to be forgotten.

[Pyre]

Simon was in his private chambers, sprawled on the bed lazily, when Narzthan burst through the door. This was quite unusual for the usually quiet old man. Simon sat up straight and attempted an air of dignity.
Narzthan did not wait for Simon to speak. “News,” he gasped, out of breath. He held out a phone.
Simon’s breath caught in his throat, but he did not speak. He snatched the phone out of Narzthan’s hand. “Hullo?” he breathed.
“Simon,” someone said breathily. Simon gave a start; he was half-hoping he would hear his mum or dad’s voice.
“What’s wrong? What’s going on? Are you all right?” Simon asked, his words stumbling over each other in a rush to get out.
“I’m dying, Simon.” There was a pause, where his Auntie cleared her throat. “But I have something to… tell you.”
Simon nodded, then realized she could not see him. “Spill,” he said impatiently. “Does it have to do with my parents?” His voice was strained, and even though he was trying to hide the pain he had been feeling since his parents went missing, it showed.
When his Auntie spoke again, her words were chosen carefully. “It has a great deal to do with you and your parents. Something your parents have kept from you for a long time.”
Simon felt indignation spark beneath his eyes. “How long?”
“Fourteen years.”
Simon gasped inwardly, but he felt almost paralyzed on the outside. His jaw was too stiff to talk and fleetingly thought he might throw up. “Since my birth?” he whispered.
“Or longer,” Auntie said. By the way she said it, Simon could tell she was straining to remember.
“Tell me!” Simon demanded. His voice sounded too loud for his own ears, and his head was beginning to pound.
“Simon, your life has been predicted to the very moment of your death. You’ve been prophesized.”
Simon squinted. He felt dizzy; the image in his mind of his parents, his lovely parents, disappeared. When it finally reappeared, he did not think the same of them. He knew the truth. They had lied to him.
Simon felt his head give one final pound of defiance. The phone clattered to the floor and he followed soon afterwards.

[Pyre]

Any more scenario questions? (:

[Lady Hammer]

The next scenario puts your character at fault for something.

Maybe it's a fender-bender. Maybe they broke something expensive of someone else's. Maybe they misplaced something important that caused a huge mishap for something. Whatever it is, your character messed up big time in this scenario.

Things to cover:

How does your character react inwardly? Outwardly?
When the victimized character approaches, how does your character act and treat them? Do they offer to replace what was broken (if anything), or in someway repent for what was done?
Will the incident continually plague your character?
Before the victimized character found out, was your character going to fess up and tell them, play dumb, etc.?

[Pyre]

Simon didn’t know why he was so attracted to Narzthan’s private quarters. Narzthan’s room was hideous, in fact; the walls were a dark, midnight blue, the corners bearing cobwebs. The floor was littered with scrolls and half-opened books. A small, crooked bed stood in one corner, and the only other thing in the room was a pedestal bearing a cracked, cloudy glass ball and a thick, dusty book.
“It’s just a book,” Simon told himself as his legs inched towards the pedestal. “It’s just a book. It is nothing to be afraid of. It has nothing to do with me- Narzthan is lying. I am Crown Prince- I am not afraid of a silly book.” He reached the pedestal, and the book, its ripped pages fluttering in the slight wind, taunted him.
“You’re the prince, sure,” it seemed to say. “The Prince of Cowards!”
His cheeks burned and in a moment of unrefined fury, he grabbed at the book. The minute he touched it, a bolt of lightening slid inside his arm, making him gasp. He lifted it anyway… and it torn as easily as though it were a soggy napkin.
Simon fell backwards and landed heavily on a satin chair. The book’s cracked brown cover swung from his perfectly manicured hand, and his breathing sounded too heavy for his own ears. The book’s pages lay in front of him on the floor, looking helpless and pathetic.
What am I going to do? He thought anxiously. Narzthan loved this book… it ‘held the key to your future.’ Now I will never be able to see what was inside, and nor with anyone else. A thought struck him. I could simply lie. Yes, yes… I’ll stick the pages in the book, and if he asked, I’ll blame it on Ellie. He grinned tranquilly; picturing Narzthan’s face after Simon would tell him that his fat, flustered maid had torn the book…
“Simon Michael?”
Simon froze; dropping the cover like it was a piece of smelly garbage. Narzthan’s voice floated towards him, growing louder with each passing second. What would Narzthan do if he found Simon in the room with the book? Simon cursed softly.
Inspiration hit, and he grabbed the torn pages off the floor. He crammed them into the stiff, dusty cover, resisting a sneeze. The pages bent, threatening to spring out, but Simon had no time, nor patience. He set in firmly on the pedestal just as Narzthan walked slowly in.
“Simon Michael,” Narzthan said, slightly out of breath. “I believe you are finally ready to read-“
Simon leapt in front of the pedestal, his heart pounding. “I’m not quite ready, I don’t think so,” he said loudly.
Narzthan rested a large, frail hand on Simon’s shoulder while he inched towards the book. “What’s wrong, lad?” he asked, frowning. “It’s not going to hurt you…”
Simon gave a short, bitter laugh. “It might not, but you will,” he mumbled.
Narzthan snatched the book from behind Simon’s back and smiled. “Now prepare to have your life…”
He stopped short. Simon squeezed his eyes shut in preparation for a scream.
“My book fell apart,” Narzthan said slowly. “It’s quite beyond repair. Do you know what happened, Prince Andresome?”
Simon winced. Narzthan had to be really angry to call him Prince, much less Prince Andresome. “I walked in and it was like that,” he said weakly.
“I don’t think so.” Narzthan drew himself up to his full height, looking ominous. “Prince,” he said calmly (but Simon could detect subtle anger in every syllable), “you aren’t fit to raise a pig, much less a kingdom. You are rude, selfish, and everyone who knows you realizes that.”
“What?” Simon yelped. “I broke your stupid book- so what?” He knocked it out of Narzthan’s hands and kicked it across the room. His chest felt like it was on fire; he panted heavily as he watched Narzthan’s face. It did not change; he simply shrugged.
The fire in Simon’s heart dimmed to nothing. He suddenly felt ashamed. He kicked the book again, gently and towards Narzthan. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Then he ran out of the room.

Not my best work, but I am developing Narzthan more and more.