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Desu Nee

100 Words Prompts

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Recently, I did have a fun writing exercise recently, which I don't really see often here...probably because it's actually hard, but HEY.

 

 

100 Words Prompts.

 

 

 

 

Basically, you pick a theme, and you must make a self contained story of your character or something within this theme, trying to mesh as much characterization as possible.

 

MIGHT AS WELL START.

 

 

 

 

Formats are written in Underline before the story, and doesn't count to the overrall word count; try to think of a simple format, and develop from there, going straight to Death would be a little on the nose wouldn't it?

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Birdgazing.

 

 

Ququki gets down from her chocobo, after travelling across the hell that is the Burning Wall. She truly liked the place, besides giving her a lot of headaches, and today is a special day; birdwatching day, and may Nald'Thal just drag her to their halls if she will skip her routine, specially on a place fairly special for her.

 

 

Gazing at the tombstone at her destination , sighing, she lays against it, bringing her small drawing booklet, and starts looking around, smile on her face; marked on the rock of the memorial, a name.

 

 

"Flynt Reddard. Hope it was worth it."

 

 

 

 

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War

 

A'zahana awoke with a start to the pained groan of a dying soldier nearby. The scent of battle was fresh in the air and somewhere in the distance the ringing of metal and shouts could be heard. Struggling to her feet, she tore off her dented helmet and felt blood begin to seep down her face. Everything was a damned mess now, but there was a job to do still and she intended to see it through. That's how it always was. A sadistic grin began to spread on her lips as she dragged herself towards the noise. "Still alive."

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What a fun idea. :D

 

One on One

 

Rikielle didn't know how the first blow had been dealt, but his head was spinning and his feet shuffled beneath him, adjusting his posture to offset the loss of balance. A punch. Nothing fancy, thrown by only a naked hand of fisted fingers without glove or gauntlet, but it hurt. With his left cheek split and irritation simmering in his head, the mercenary recovered to pivot toward his foe, thrusting his palm forward. Cerulean tendrils slithered through the air and coiled around his attacker's throat, cinching the esophagus, denying airflow. Rikielle kept hold until the larger male succumbed and fell.

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Tactics

 

Gogonji moved the chess piece across the board. A pawn, moving but the width of a square. Twas no chess board, though – but a map of Hydaelyn. The darker pieces were amassed mostly in the realm of Garlemald, but scattered pieces – including the Queen – sat neatly atop Gyr Abania and Doma. His fingers moved to the White Knight, toppled on its side in Gyr Abania, and he tapped it a couple times thoughtfully. Lifting it up, he moved it over to Kugane – where the White Queen also stood. His eyes then fell on the White King – whither shall he go?

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Bake-off

 

"THOU HAST PASSED THE TRIAL OF BARDAM'S METTLE."

 

Schezar grinned, wiping the slick sweat from his brow with the back of one hand. He stared up triumphantly at the stone statue that loomed above them, seemingly malms high. The entire area, a holy place, pulsated with ancient magicks.

 

He could still feel the adrenaline rush in his veins as he and his companions straightened back up to their feet, pumped for whatever was to come next. The Mol were going to be pleased. "Alright, that was a hell of a dance. What now, big statue face?"

 

"NEXT, THOU MUST PASS THE QUIZ OF BARDAM'S SPELLING BEE."

 

The highlander paused. "Um... alright. Bit unusual, but not unprecedented, I guess. Where do we go to--"

 

"AND THEN, THOU MUST SURVIVE THE ARDUOUS TEST OF BARDAM'S BAKING TOURNAMENT."

 

"Okay, see, now I know you're just fucking with me."

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i used a random word generator in an effort to incorporate the word/concept whatever because thinking of word/concept is hard

 

candle

 

Quick burnt the wick by the sweat of his brow. Dim light, shadows dancing in the reaches where his vision glimpsed hints and half-imagination. How his eyes ached. Quill lain dead still, an army marched victorious across parchment; troops with shining black helmets aligned in neat procession, each tuck and tidy despite their bilious nature. Despite its long passing, the day's labor was complete. A relieved sigh shook to the bone what scarce life clung to the tip of the wick. Still now stood the shadows, awaiting their moment. Eyes shut, Quirinus savored the moments til the night overcame him.

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