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Hey dudes, long time no see-o. (I wonder if anybody remembers me?) Anyway, I'm kinda bored and need a side-hobby. Since selling yourself as a writer in this community in particular is pretty difficult, I'm going to include a lot of examples of how I can be of use to a design team.

I can fill a wide variety of roles, not exclusive to: writing plot from scratch, dialogue only, creating characters, taking vague plots from creators and fleshing it out further, etc.

I'm very strong at creating people and scenes in a believable way your players/fans can attach themselves to. Your games will not have a lasting effect if your story or your characters fall flat in some way.

Here's a memory I wrote for a roleplaying character I had a while back. The only thing you need to really know is that being a 'wiggler' is akin to developing magick powers.
Bako rushed through the courtyard, dragging a bag of obsidian slag as best she could manage. The burden crunched loudly with each shift in weight, a bulbous deformation to her form--which could be somewhat similar to a mutation. It certainly set her apart and held her in a discouragingly disgusted regard to the rest of the unit.

The Corporal took her first step into the training yard, hunched over and struggling. Her legs quivered like a necker's in front of some cruel templar with each movement. She was often called a few favorable things during a morning of training for her brutality and strength, but she was at the last dregs of her endurance as she slowly staggered to her destination. She felt pathetic--she felt weak--she felt humiliated.

Sergeant Bace stood with his arms crossed, watching her with a particularly bored stare as she approached. His expression did not change as she dropped her load, and began the series of formalities required of her.

Bako straightened her crushed form, a cracked and worn series of limbs with a tangled mess of hair. She saluted her Sergeant wearily, barely able to bring a loose fist to her breast before sputtering the rest of it.

"Necker whore slime Corporal Bako reporting in with one more bag of obsidian, Sergeant!"

With that, the impeccably dressed and groomed Sergeant snapped his fingers. Two large Corporals moved in on her, shoving her to the dirt again. This was the... thirteenth time today. With each load of obsidian, she recieved a beating. Bace wanted to use Corporals from a different unit, in order to make it as emotionally painful as possible, and so he called upon the two Corporals who had proven themselves early in their careers--just as Bako had.

The stark difference being that these two Corporals, (who were laying down strikes with their knees and elbows to Bako's writhing form,) were at the very beginning of their careers. In different units they were going to become Sergeants soon, and possibly Lieutenants. They were like Bako was, before she had found out her terrible disease. She was a great fucking Corporal before she found out she had been born a disgusting wiggler. Fuck you if you think that finding that out was easy to deal with, or hide. (Oh how difficult it was at times to hide.)

Sergeant Bace, who had been her Sergeant for ten... (or was it twelve?) years now was tired of his Corporal. His Blue Robe would not assign him a different one, citing that it was the Sergeant's fault his incredibly promising Corporal turned sour. Bace had been denied promotion quite a few times because of Bako, she was sure. No one stayed a Sergeant that long if they were as good as Bace was. (As good as she was, if not for her affliction.)

The punishment ended, possibly to begin again later after the next bag. Gripped roughly by her filthy mat of bloody-streaked hair, eyes half-lidded as she fought passing out, Bako was held upright on her knees. Her form swayed and would have surely toppled if not stretched to proper form by the consistently agonizing pull on her hair. She bled from her face, her neck, her gut, her limbs, (and she certainly felt as though she bled inside. She was hoping she might cough up blood, to give her a sign that it would all be over so very soon.)

Sergeant Bace squatted down in front of her, cold gaze narrowing. The both of them were terribly conflicting sights. He was organized, trimmed, freshly sand-bathed, and refreshed. She was torn apart, messy, smelled of sweat and piss, and nearly dead.

"You've cost me a lot, you piece of shit. You are lucky I cannot kill you." Bace drew a knife, holding it out to one of the future Sergeants. "Needless to say, you are not making Sergeant. Again. I am done with you." He turned a placid gaze from her to the one holding her. "Give her a hair cut."

The simplicity of his words troubled her, and she had to think on it for a dreadfully long time before her thoughts processed. Bace cannot kill her, she lost her chance at Sergeant, (again,) Bace is done with her--wait, what does he mean by 'done'? What was he doing? Was he leaving the militia, now? Was he getting rid of her somehow?

The dull blade scraped across her scalp. The knife was more of an annoyance than anything. This was a new trick for reducing her. She'd seen it done before, but it normally was reserved for those being punished severely--as with lashings.

Bako suddenly smiled as her drenched locks fell past her sight, the red along her teeth causing Bace some pause in his expression. The Sergeant opened his mouth as though suddenly distressed, seeing the severity of her wounds all at once. She wasn't about to be sent to the Sawbones before she endured the worst of his punishments, so Bako thought quickly and attempted to form some course of action that would keep her from being cared to.

Bako's throat gurgled for a moment, and she spit on Sergeant Bace. The drool and blood trickled down her own form, but she did not care. She had landed a good amount on Bace, and that was pleasing enough to see his reaction. Unfortunately, he was having none of it, and instead of continuing to call for Sawbones, he simply knocked her the fuck out.

Oh well. At least she'd have a full haircut by the time she woke up, instead of half of one like she might have if she had been given to Sawbones. She considered herself genuinely successful.

She just had a really great fuck, a decent bit of wine, and stuck her fist up Bace's ass all in one day. It was a fairly decent day to die. (Krath, if only she were ever that lucky.)

I invite anyone interested to give me a scene they'd like to see played out with the following directives: plot, characters, tone, mood, & any needed history about the world.
Hey! I was thinking about getting a co-writer or something to that effect today, actually. Right now I need help with creating believable dialogue/giving characters distinct personalities, as I find every line I write sounds like it's from the same person over and over.

Anyways pm me when you get the chance to, and we can talk.
Max McGee
with sorrow down past the fence
Let me strunk and white you real quick.

Do not overuse--interjections, like these--because they weaken the flow of the writing.

Too many adverbs, man! Like, I am overwhemingly overwhelmed by the dauntingly daunting display of blinding adjectives and staggering adverbs being used rampantly and not frugally. Kill those darlings!

What is a necker or for that matter a templar (in this context). I can't tell from context clues, something I'm usually really good at.

When you state something--and state it another way--and state it yet another way, it is probably redundant.

(Do not overuse parenthetical statements.)

Decide at the beginning of a prose piece whether or not you will include direct address i.e. second person!

Even in a fantasy context, is Blue Robe really a proper noun and hence should be capitalized?

Anyway, I will halt critique/review now. I know that you wrote this for an RP and I know my writing for those sort of things (to say nothing of my forum post writing, which is atrocious!) is hardly what I would want to be judged on.

All in all, I am pleased to see someone offering this service! This really is something the community has a drought of.
templar=judge/executioner/officer of the law
Blue Robe=referring to a rank of templars

The thing was written as a stream of consciousness! Probably not the best example of what I can do, but it's what I got on hand. :)
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