Young Writers Society

Name: Tassen (Tas for short, which he accepts with reluctance)
Age: 15
Sex: Male
Daemon Familiar Name: Paul
--chosen a shape yet?: (no, but hopes to be a parrot or a dragon, but that's totally unreal)
Tribe: Ex-magesterium, had a falling out after deciding that the church of this world was repellent and had lost its way
Bio: Not much to say. Born and raised un-churchish, taken in by magesterium. Decided magesterium was misguided and had lost its way.
Personality: ADHD and rapidly changing

Tassen and Paul peer around the corner, Paul a parrot, as usual, and both out of breath. "D___ that F_______ priest," Tassen says furiously.

"Calm down," Paul chirps. "You're swearing."

"Got it. Thanks Paul."

As Paul flutters down onto Tassen's finely cloaked shoulder, both espy the strange conglomeration. "Think it's safe?" Tassen wonders quietly.

"One way to find out," Paul says. "We can always run again."

"And I'm the risk-taking one?" Tassen mutters affectionatly, stepping around the corner. "What have we here?" he asks, stepping out of shadow and into view.


(EDIT: it might be more clear to say Tassen wasn't captured, but taken in by some priest. He was a church boy. The priest shared his feelings, but was executed for heresy. The foster parent was repellent, and after threats to send him with the captured children, he ran. Quite fashionably. Fine attire, money, even the odd gadget, gizmo, and more importantly: weapons. Though he doesn't mention the pistol or the knife.)

Where'd everyone go?

Name: Kitlea

Age: 14

Sex: Female

Daemon Familiar Name: Onyxia
--chosen a shape yet?: No, but favors the form of a wolf or tiger

Tribe: Children's

Bio: Born and is now living

Personality: She is outgoing yet serious.

Kitlea stood, back to the wall breathing hard. She had just outran two men from the Magisterium.

"Are you OK?" Kitlea heard her daemon, Onyxia ask. Kitlea nodded still breathing hard. She sat down and began petting Onyxia's smooth gray fur. Kitlea's dark brown, highlighted hair curled around her arms.

"What have we here?" Kitlea jumped up off the ground at the voice. She looked to her left and saw a boy with a parrot on his shoulder. Onyxia began to growl lightly. Kitlea glared at the mysterious boy and slowly reached for her knife. Who is this boy? She wondered once she had a hold on her knife. She rubbed her finger over the engraved initials, remembering her father who had given it to her before her joined the Magisterium. But those memories faded quickly as Onyxia's light growl turned into a ferocious

"What do you want." Kitlea asked the boy angrily waiting impatiently for a reply.

"For starters, you to put the knife down. For all you know, I might have another weapon, but that's beyond that point, because you don't need it," he said matter-of-factly. "After that, I'd dearly love to know what's going on here."

"I need your help, child," Salazar said. He was momentarily thrown by the alarmed look on her face. "I didn't mean... not like that. Your dæmon's right, I did work for the Magisterium. For the past four years, in fact. But I'm not with them."

He took a step forward, holding out the fabric of his shirt.

"This uniform... what it stands for... is wrong. It's all wrong. The Magisterium is getting an ego too big for itself. I want to help bring them down. And for that, I need you."

He held out his hand.

"Do I have your trust?"

"Nothing is going on. I was simply running from the Magesterium, just like I do every day. Why do you ask?" Kitlea said as she released her grip on the knife.

>>>All I got for now<<<

So, this died...rather quickly. Why? I have no idea haha.

Want to start it back up?

Name: Molly Brinneruck
Age: 12
Daemon: Britilio
(Favours a snowy owl)
Tribe: Children's
Bio: Molly is the sort of girl that doesn't react well to pressure. She can be disobedient and is hot-headed at times. She has curly red hair and blue eyes.
Smart when she wants to be and good at working out puzzles and stuff. Conceals her true feelings