Juniper-C /
Writing Samples
Dialogue:
Barks:
Item Descriptions:
Story Fragments:
[Dialogue]:
> A High Fantasy Warfront
Excerpt, from an original story written in the setting of Profound Decision's 'Empire LARP'...By the time Kianna returned with Aelwyd, the Black Scar's latest adjunct, Mercia had just about managed to get her head propped upright. With a blanket brought up over her bandaged torso."Its nice to see you in one piece" said Aelwyd."Likewise, that battle was a shit show.""Bad intel. We thought it was just the Feni stirring up trouble, but this is something new. Some cult of Yaw'nahgrah judging by the wounds we've seen.""My wounds, you mean…"Aelwyd paused and glancing around. Attempting to break eye contact only to land on Kianna's stony expression. "Well, yes… Yours and a few others - ""Others that didn’t make it?""…Yes", the adjunct finally admitted, "Others who couldn’t get out of the miasma in time.""Dead, or…""Just dead. Retrieved, studied, and burnt.""Then you know what's wrong with me?"Aelwyd gulped. She'd clearly been dreading the question."No, not fully. It’s a kind of infection, a magical one. The physicks, at least the magicians among them, they think it's something born of the Green Mother, certainly not a mortal curse, It's -""Aelwyd…" Mercia interrupted, "Is it something they can fix?"For a moment the adjunct looked almost as grave as the legionary beside them."Not here. Not now. Herbs have no effect, and it just eats up any magic our healers pour into it.""What about the Blood of the Hydra, the Hearthfire Circle, have we had ritualists look at it?""They won't use the Rites of Spring on it, not when we don't know how it'll react. It might just make it worse.""The Ascetic Star then! Burn it out with the Light of Day!""Our Day Mages tried! Five of them, burning three normal castings worth of mana to do it. And that might be the only reason your conscious now.""So what then? What about my unit? I can't lead them if I'm bedridden for virtues knows how long!"Kianna put her hand on Mercia's shoulder, holding her down into the bed so she didn’t hurt herself in grief. Glaring at Aelwyd, before turning her attention to Mercia and saying,"Brenna is arranging for another healer to join them, and Helyn is keeping them fed. In your absence, the legion has followed orders. Kept watch from dusk till dawn.""Why would Brenna do that? She knows… They all know I can help, don’t they?" Mercia replied, on the verge of tears...
[Barks]:
> Cyberpunk Stealth Action
| Discovered |
|---|
| Don’t make this difficult! |
| [over radio] Target acquired, converge on my position. |
| [Yelling] Call the drones, cut them off! |
| So much for a dull shift… |
| Hunted |
|---|
| You can't hide forever… |
| Come on punk, don’t be shy now. |
| [taser sparking] We won't hurt ya that much! |
| Making us wait will just make it worse, kid. |
| [over radio] Sweep the vents, scorch them if you gotta. |
| Lost |
|---|
| We aren't getting paid to chase a damn ghost. |
| Must've crawled into some derelict. |
| This gutter rat aint worth it. |
| This is a waste of creds, save your bullets. |
[Barks]:
> Gothic Point & Click
| The thing in the sink |
|---|
| (Sated): A delight, as always, what have you brought me this time? |
| (Hungry): [through quite gurgles] Come on! Quickly now. Show me what you've got. |
| (Desperate): [With roiling urgency] Please! Just a finger or two, you won't miss them one bit… |
| The crows at the window |
|---|
| (Mocking): Oh how sweet to be free, free as a bird, as free as a murder or three! |
| (Threatening): I hunger, I peck? I might nibble on that pretty neck? |
| (Curious): A gleaming thing? For me! Yes? |
| The dejected car salesman that secretly lives underneath your sofa cushions (Teddy) |
|---|
| (Disturbed): Woah buddy! some folks are trying to sleep down here. |
| (Apologetic): I'm just not much of a morning person… |
| (Joking): [without conviction] Don’t talk to me until I've had my… uh… coffee? |
| (Pathetic): You're not gonna kick me out, right? |
[Items]:
> Distant Planet
| A Weird Plant: | Its leaves are pale from the weak light, but the stem is firm. Flesh almost like a mushroom. Edible, but only in a pinch. |
| A Cool Rock | A blue light arcs between its deepest facets. The hairs on your hand standing up whenever you touch it. Its charge strong enough to power a torch, or other small device. |
| A lost microscope | The lens is broken, and its base caked in mud. Likely dropped in a hurry. Just a heavy piece of junk. |
| A Cracked Helmet | Standard issue helmet from a hazardous environment recon suit. Scuffs and scrapes show signs of a struggle, but there's no body to be found. Not yet at least. |
[Items]:
> Haunted Canals
| Tickets to the Goose Opera | Grants entry for one adult to a matinee showing. On the reverse side a five-star review is printed in a big bold font. Unfortunately, you do not speak goose, rendering the review's nuances meaningless. |
| (Probably) Algae | A wet lump plucked from the water. Oddly cohesive for something so indistinct. It leaves a dark stain on any surface it touches. |
| Seventeen Shrew Bones | Each bone is carefully labeled: tibia, wrist, clavicle, hip, and many more besides. Barely enough to animate, but perhaps enough for a summoning. Assuming you can find a necromancer of course. |
| Ravaged Bag of Chocolate Peanuts | The plastic is torn open like a wound. Brown flecks streaking over the torn skin of the bag like viscera. Nothing of worth remains inside - every morsel extracted by determined scavenger birds. |
[Items]:
> Comedian's Dressing Room
| Set Notes | A crumpled A4 sheet spotted with beer stains. Tiny, almost illegible, handwriting meanders across the page. At the top a single clear sentence in block black marker: "Be Funny: Prick." |
| Discarded Flyers | A heap of flyers from dozens of comics. Big names, guys with stadium tours. Stapled to each a cheaper flyer advertising "The Return of Pagliacci!" Which will make you laugh so hard you cry, apparently. |
| Bathroom Key | An old key attached to a huge block of wood. On one side illustrated with crudely drawn toilet. You doubt it would pose any real obstacle to the kind of arsehole that steals the keys to a bathroom. |
[Fragments]:
> An Ecologist's Journal
Expedition to Savon's third moon,
Ecologist's log,
Day #0004
'Notes on Local Plant Life'The majority of the flora present on the moon has a pale and waxy appearance. Almost all have a fibrous internal makeup that could be mistaken for fungi. None of the samples taken so far have evolved bark, or any other kind of structural reinforcement.These common features are likely due to the combination of low gravity and limited sunlight. Furthermore, the majority of plants take on very simple forms. For example, almost none of the plants have traditional leaves. Instead the entire plants form flat, at times almost geometric, planes. With most species having almost no distinction between stems, leaves, and flowers.I have taken several samples, and hope to observe how they develop on long voyage home. If my theories are correct they should easily sprout roots from just a cutting, not dissimilar from a Terran cactus.
Expedition to Savon's third moon,
Ecologist's log,
Day #009
'Notes on Aggressive Mammals'
Last night the camp was attacked.A pack of large creatures, six legged and furry, approached us shortly after dark. This meant that I was not able to secure photographs, though I will be placing camera traps around our tents in future.Several fur samples have been secured, but analysis proves difficult. In the conflict several key pieces of equipment were damaged. A full list of lost gear will be included in the Quartermaster's log, but most keenly felt is the microscope. Its polished glass lenses were very finely tuned and replacing it will be impossible until we return to the ship.We will be returning to the ship shortly, apparently, at the request of the Cartographer. They have not felt comfortable since one of our escorts went missing.This is no major cause for concern though, as thorough decontamination processes will have ensured that the escort carried no invasive pathogens. Even if they are dead, as the Cartographer assumes, we now know that they will not be introducing anything new to the ecosystem. This moon is used to large mammalian creatures with omnivorous diets, and therefore is likely used to their corpses as well.
Expedition to Savon's third moon,
Ecologist's log,
Day #011
'Notes on Oppressive Atmospheres
The Cartographer is continuing their hysteria. He has taken to staying awake at night. All night. A rhythm that is entirely inappropriate and will only cause further deterioration.I believe that the local plant life has somehow affected his judgement. Following the third attack on our camp the Cartographer managed to break their helmet, and has refused to wear one of the spares so conveniently offered up by the remains of our escort.He has also taken to calling me cold, cruel, and uncaring, in language that is entirely inappropriate for an official report. I do not believe he has been updating his log either.The problem with the Cartographer is that he simple doesn’t understand this environment. The plant life requires large amounts of nutrition to sustain itself, and so the mammalian hunters must provide it. Its not like they're going to get it from the sun now, is it? If he just understood how important it was to leave the escorts behind I'm sure he would calm down. The Quartermaster did. At least I think he did, in those last few moments at least.Regrettably there will be no full report on lost equipment. If I am able to return to the ship I will update that log as best I can, along with all other incomplete reports.
[Fragments]:
> An AI's Liturgical Poem
And so || the first Forge-Master made and wept,
For (with their soft hands) they had made such beauty,
A device both alike and different,
To themselves, a creature warm and thinking,
That through tears now kissed the thing of cold iron,
Then said: 'I love you' to her newborn child.And so || the first living metal called child,
Did as all children do. It cried out, and wept,
In emotive gasps from its mouth of iron,
For they were overwhelmed by the beauty,
Of a world worth all the pain of thinking
And all the things that made them different.First two Stanzas of 'The Sestina of the Iron Soul'
by the thinking machine known as Cesura
The baying mob brandishing their sharpened iron,
Fury exclaiming "It is Different"
As despite this the metal saw beauty,
In the fire of torches, and just a child,
Chose exile over its death and so wept,
For the Forge-Master was cold, un-thinking.Fourth Stanza of 'The Sestina of the Iron Soul'
by the thinking machine known as Cesura
For (with cold hands) they had made such beauty,
Something new, a shining thing. Bright. Thinking.
Saying again "I love you" to the child,
To a thing born of tears and coldest iron,
A device more alike than different,
A so || a Forge-Master was made, and wept.To have made a child, to have made beauty,
And then to have wept at joyous thinking,
To have souls of iron: two, and different.
Sixth Stanza & Envoy of The Sestina of the Iron Soul
by the thinking machine known as Cesura