Characters

Character development. Some of them you'll recognize, most of them character's that'll be implemented within the next draft. Which is happening right now. In real time. Wow.

The Paragon

He was lost in a world he didn’t comprehend, stuck with ideals that couldn’t translate to the people around him. There was disgust in him, and it turned to anger, then to pity. There was a great civilization here once. Something laid waste to it, he understood that. But there was no reason why they couldn’t rebuild it. Construct a new world, one of order, one that learned from old mistakes that cost millions their lives and forge a utopia the likes of which earth had never seen. but they were ignorant. They were no better then the scouraged dogs that cannibalized each other in desperation. And even with all this. the apathy that creeped into his inner being, he couldn’t turn his back on them. He was a robot. It was what he was built for. He would protect the humans until they killed him or finished each other. He couldn’t struggle against fate.

The Weapon

He saw the flower and picked it. He wanted a friend. Saw the birds flying above him and chased after them. They weren’t interested in being his friend. He stepped on the anthill and tried to build another one for them. He saw so much, understood so little, and yet he was content. He was learning. The world was his teacher, and its instruction was simple: have fun. He saw the humans and tried to walk amongst them.They were different from the birds. They weren’t so simple. They definitely weren’t boring.  He liked the customs, the words they spoke, the way they interacted with each other. And they were all so different...he wondered what he could learn if he walked among them. Maybe he could find someone else to play with. Flowers wilted and died after they were picked. Birds just flew away. But a human friend would be amazing.

The Technician

She figured if she kept running, she’d leave her troubles behind. Or she’d collapse in the desert and be eaten alive by the dogs. Another method of getting away from everything. She couldn’t see the beauty anymore. Her grandfather showed her beauty. Kit showed her beauty. The world showed her misery. Every night she stepped over a body. Everyone now and again, the body would still be breathing. It was easier to live with the dead. They were gone. Nothing anyone could do about it. But every time she heard the labored breathing of a man dying from a beating, heard his pathetic croaking for help, her stomach twisted and turned hot. Then she reminded her self that she was no hero, and she kept moving.  She wondered where all the beauty went. Why her grandfather left. Why she left home. Why was she still alive. All she wanted was to see the beauty in life, just once more. She wanted a reason to live.

The Businessman

There was something about the sound of coins clinking against coins. Lots of coins clinking against coins. Or the sound of bills being counted. It was intoxicating. It was power. Money was power. He could buy anyone on the planet ten times over and still having enough to fill a shack to the ceiling. But all that was....insignificant to him. He didn’t want power, though he didn’t mind it. He collected money the way children collected rocks. it was a hobby. A game. How much could he shave off the top before his partners realized he was cheating them? How much could he pull out of a deal before the other party smartened up? How many friends would he gain once they knew how rich he truly was? No one was his friend when he was eating rotted meat out of trash cans, puking it up hours later. And no one was his friend now. They were all pawns in his game, arranged on a board to create the greatest cash flow possible. More dollars and coins to add to his collection.

The Nihilist Swordsman

The world was the way it was meant to be. That is what he believed. The roles people played where the roles they were meant to play. That is what he believed. The corruption was there because it was meant to be there. That it was he believed. And he struck down those he considered worthy to stain his sword with their blood because he want to be a destroyer. That wasn’t what he believed. That was what he knew. The blood of reptiles mingled with the blood of humans in his veins. He was the amalgam that was never meant to exist. But he did, because he was meant to exist. To be a part of the painting fate created. Paintings were eternal, the way they are is the way they will always be. The paintings fate had of him must’ve been a great mass of red, him standing in the midst of it. He would destroy until he was destroyed. That was his fate. That was how it was meant to be.

The Politician

He found a book one day, a strange book. It talked of men ruling men, leaders who were respected and feared. Kings of the ancient era, presidents of the old democracy, Prime Ministers of Eden who controlled everything in a glorified monarchy. They were supposed to be the ones that lead the people into prosperity, the ones that kept a country safe through their judgment. The world he lived in was the opposite of prosperous. There was nothing there, no order, no justice for the weak. Madmen ran the streets and controlled everything. His father had been forced out of his own business because someone else was being selfish. And no one did a thing. Too afraid to stand up for themselves. It all began to sicken him. He needed to do something. Needed to create a world were everything was fair.  But first he needed to convince people he could. He needed to inspire them. It wasn’t that hard. His words were luring. he was confident in an age where men were more likely to despair. He drew them in. He made them believe. And he delivered. Cleaned up the streets of his own town. It wasn’t perfect. They needed more food, more space, a school to teach the children. But it was something. It was the beginning. It was the beginning of his plan. To repeat the process everywhere he went. He would be the one that brought Eden back to its former glory.

The Infiltrator

She found her life ironic. She had spent her childhood desperate to be seen, starving for attention. Now her life depended on her being a ghost. She could only think of three people who had ever seen her face clearly since she became an infiltrator. Two of them were targets. One was a man she loved. Her current target. In her past life she would’ve been distraught at the idea of killing the one person she could spend the rest of her life with and not want for more. She had gone to great lengths to make herself colder. Not so cold that she became inhuman. Just cold enough to know when business overrode her own desires. Parts of her screamed despite her efforts to quiet them. She hated her contract, hated the way she signed her life over to a person she couldn’t look upon without waves of nausea running through her body. But life was cruel like that. An obstacle no greater then a stone in the road can seem like a mountain from the right perspective. One becomes rash, acts without thinking. Ruins himself. She chuckled. Her master’s words ringing through her head. What did he know. His death put her in the place she was in.