Yes, Em. Your character is in this solowrite!

Name: Kell

Age (minimum of 10 years, maximum of 17 years): 15

Appearance: Long dark hair with natural dark green highlights, very pale skin, peircing grey eyes, has a small scar running across one eye.  Likes to wear the sort of clothes a hunter or asassin might.  Always wears a long black cloak with a silver-and-sapphire brooch.

Personality: Very mysterious and reserved.  He doesn't show a lot of emotion and can be cold but also gentle and almost empathetic.

History/Background: Shrouded in mystery (you're welcome to eloborate), but he arrived in Grayingwell one night, soaking wet even though it hadn't rained in a week.  He got a job there but hasn't told anyone where he's from.  He has a strange fear of human contact, which ties into his backstory.

Weaknesses: Very reserved, not a team player.  The only person he trusts is himself, and if he had the choice to save himself or his companions he would save himself without a second thought.

Strengths: Good at keeping secrets, a skilled warrior, can think on his feet, suprisingly very good with horses.

Other: he/him, shipping with girls if you're going to include that

A good friend made a character and just gave me the sheet.  It is pasted below.

Name:  Silas

Age (minimum of 10 years, maximum of 17 years):  12

Appearance:  He has a red wool beanie that he wears almost every day - it was made by his mother before she died.  Whenever Silas goes out on a cold day he wears an old leather jacket that his father wore when he was a boy.  Wears jeans with hand-made added pockets, bulging with random things that "might come in useful."  Has a mop of coal-black hair.  

Personality:  very quiet, thoughtful, only speaks when necessary.  Some [very weird] people sometimes think he is possessed by an evil creature when they see him wandering about, an absent look on his face.  When this happens he is really just thinking deeply.   

History/Background:  Silas's mother died when he was only four.  His father has been taking care of him since.  Silas is the only child.

Weaknesses: Silas gets frightened, and when he does he can't think properly.

Strengths: He has mastered countless animal sounds.   Silas has also mastered ways to make the sounds of:   Swords swishing through the air,  ghosts,  and some other spooky noises. 

Other: has a very soft spot to animals.

Thank you all for submitting your characters before the deadline.  We will start on November 15.  Meanwhile I will try to keep this thread topped.  I wish you a good week!

Topping!  This will start tomorrow!

Chapter 1

Lenna sat hidden in the tall rushes by the stream which ran past to her right and fell down a small ledge into a clear pond.  Her head was bent over her work and her black hair fell forward, curtaining either side of her face.

Lenna picked a thin, pliable stick from the stack at her side and pushed one end into the basket frame she had crafted.  She held this end pinched between her fingers and began pushing the other end in and out of the frame.

The breeze swished through the rushes, bending them forwards and backwards around Lenna.  It caught a strand of Lenna's hair, tangling it around the stick she was weaving in.  Lenna scowled in annoyance and untangled it, wincing when she pulled the hair from the roots before it was fully disentangled.

Before she continued weaving she slipped a loop of rope off her wrist and used it to tie back her hair.

Such was Lenna's concentration on weaving she didn't notice the presence of another untill the sharp clunk of an object being dropped on stone jarred her focus.  A little perturbed at her unawareness Lenna glanced up and saw the slender figure of the village healer straiten from her bent over position, holding two clay jugs brimming with water.  One she held in the crook of her elbow, the other she held with one hand wrapped around the neck and her second hand pressed against a crack in the base.  Water from the crack seeped through her fingers and dripped to the ground.

Lenna was still, she did not wish to reveal where she sat.  She preferred to remain hidden.  But the healer had already seen her for she smiled at Lenna before leaving the stream.

A flush of irritation rose to Lenna's cheeks.  She wanted no one to know her whereabouts, she wanted to be alone and unknown.  Lenna knew if it had been anyone else they would not have seen her.  But the healer seemed always to see the places where Lenna hid, and that irritated Lenna.

Still slightly irritated Lenna rose and flicked her hair off her shoulders.  She held her finished work in front of her and inspected it, turning it in her hands.

It had a long thin neck and a wide bulging body, and was strongly woven in a net like pattern with large gaps in the sides and bottom.  Lenna nodded, pleased with her work.

She would place the basket in the stream before it fell to the pond.  Fish would swim in, the large fish would be caught and the small fish would swim through the gaps.

Tonight she would have something other than dandelions to eat.

*       *       *

Mila arranged the jars in a row on the wooden table.

"Humphrey, calendula, rosemary ...", she murmured to herself as she ran a finger over the list the healer had given her.

"... beeswax!", she exclaimed and moved around the table to open a cabinet.  Mila reached in and extracted a large block of beeswax.  She brushed the dust off lightly with a hand and placed it next to the jars.

"Mila?"  The healer raised her voice slightly to be heard through the thick wood door.  "Would you open the door?  My hands are occupied."

Mila padded across the uneven wood floors and pulled the door open.

"Here", the healer said and handed Mila a jug of water.  "There's a crack in that one.  I dropped it on the river stones."  The healer placed the unbroken jug in front of Mila's neat row of jars.

Mila poured the water from the cracked jug into a bucket and placed the jug on the stone counter.  They would have to ask the potter to make a new one for them.  Perhaps she could steal some time and watch the potter make it.  It was like magic, as the wheel spins a new jug rises up.  Like a flower, Mila thought.

"Your lesson on salve making must be held off", the healer continued.  "I'm needed at the Orphan Home.  Bradley is bleeding.  Would you bring the healing basket?"

Mila's thoughts came back to the present.  "I will", she said.

The healer hurried out the door, followed a moment later by Mila who carried a colorful basket.

They were met at the Orphan Home door by Levinnia, the eldest of the orphans.

"Healer Kathryn, Apprentice Mila!  Thank Mother Nature you are here!", she said and brushed a strand of auburn hair from her blue eyes.  "Bradley has another nosebleed, and it just won't stop."  Levinnia turned and led the way into the house.

Mila followed behind the healer, trying to suppress a smile of amusement.  Bradley was a frequent nosebleed patient.  A healer does not find amusement in a patient's issues, Mila reminded herself.  Still, it was hard not the be amused by how often Bradley's nose bled.

"Keep holding your nose, Bradley."  The healer lifted the boiling kettle off the stove and poured the steaming water into a jar of herbs.

"But my nose won't stop bleeding!"  Bradley sat at the kitchen table, pinching his nose and leaning on his elbows.  He kept releasing his nose, wanting to see if the bleeding had stopped.  Every time he did so fresh drops of blood dropped to the table, which Mila had to clean with a wet rag.

"Patience", croaked Granny, the orphanage head.  Granny reached down and picked a threadbare sock from the

basket at her feet.  Threading her needle she began darning.

Bradley groaned.  "Why do I bleed so much?"  Lizardo scampered over Bradley's head to curl around an ear.

"How much water do you drink a day?", the healer asked.

"Not much", Bradley admitted.

"Drinking more water should help", the healer said and swirled the mixture of herbs and water she held in her hand.  "Honey please, Mila."

Mila handed her a small stone jar of honey from the basket.  The healer scooped a lump into her mixture and let it melt.

"Drink this", she said and set it in front of Bradley.  Obligingly Bradley drank it.

A few minutes later Bradley released his nose.  "It's done!", he said.

- - - -

Originally I was introducing three characters per chapter, but when I typed it out I realized it might overload the Admins.  Now I will introduce two characters per chapter.  If your character does nor appear in this chapter they will be included either in the next chapter or the one after that.

I plan on posting once a week, (every Sunday).  But if I had a writing spurt it might be twice, and if I am unable to post on Sunday I will post another day. 

I am open for constructive criticism!  Be really picky and tell me.  I want my writing to become the best it possibly can.

Thank you Admins for reading this through! 

WOW that's so good!  I love the imagery.  The only critisicm I have is that in the first few paragraphs you say "Lenna" a lot, and using "she" more instead might make it flow better.  But that's just a small thing.  Keep writing!

I LOVE THE WAY THAT YOU INRODUCED BRADLEY!!!!

Chapter 2: 

Poppy lay back and rested her head on a lump in the grass.  She closed her eyes and listened attentively to her surroundings.

A breeze rushed across the grass and tops of trees.  It ruffled Poppy's bright red curls.  A group of birds chirruped in the clump of trees behind her.  The laughter of young ones rang around the meadow.  And if Poppy strained her ears she could hear the far off tinkling of the stream.

Poppy opened her eyes again and watched the downy clouds drift across the sky.  She smiled happily and let her mind wander dreamily among the clouds.

Poppy was pulled abruptly from her daydreams by a piercing scream.  She leapt up and, not bothering to brush the grass off her clothes, she rushed to the source of the sound.  Berating herself for not watching the children like she was supposed to as she raced across the long grass.

She dove through a clump of bushes behind which the scream had come.

In the small clearing she hidden behind the bushes a small boy of cowering on the ground, covering his eyes.  A girl, perhaps a couple years older than the boy, was standing over him, laughing.  When Poppy burst through the bushes she thrust her hands behind her and looked sheepishly at Poppy.

"Henry, what happened?" Poppy asked.

The boy wailed, "she gotta snake!"  Henry wailed again and burst into tears.

Poppy picked up the wailing toddler, whose wails stopped when he buried his head in her shoulder.

Poppy looked at Charlotte.  "Charlotte," she said sternly.

Charlotte tried feigning innocence.  "What?"  She asked.  "I wasn't doing anything."

Poppy wasn't deceived and she did not tolerate lies.  Her green eyes sparkled with anger.  "Charlotte, show me what you have in your hands."

"Oh", Charlotte said, shifting from foot to foot.  "It's n-nothing."

"Now," Poppy firmly commanded.

Reluctantly Charlotte held out her hands, which were holding a long black snake.  Poppy sighed with relief, a harmless snake.

"Matilda!" Poppy called.

A moment later a girl, whose brown hair was even more curled than Poppy's, wiggled through the bushes.  She looked at Poppy questioningly.

"Please take Henry back to the house.  Bring the others with you, it will be getting dark soon.  I'll be there in a moment."

Poppy set Henry on his feet and brushed grass off his clothes.  Matilda took the sniffling Henry by the hand and left the way she had come.  Poppy could hear her calling the rest of the children.

Poppy turned to Charlotte.  "Release the snake." 

Which Charlotte did without a word, though her lips formed a pout.

Then, placing a firm hand on Charlotte's shoulder, Poppy led her to the house.  Where she intended to give Charlotte a scolding.

* * * 

Silas staggered through the door and set the bucket he had been carrying inside.  Water slopped out from the jarring impact, wetting the leg of his pants.

Ignoring the his wet pants, Silas walked through the house and into the tiny pottery shop his father built.  Pieces of pottery, finished and unfinished, were set in shelves that ran along one side of the room.  A pottery wheel sat in the back corner.  Two stools were stacked in another.  In the middle of the room was a large clay smeared table, taking most of the space.

"Father?" he called.

"I'm at the kiln", came the muffled reply from outside.

Silas moved around the table and went out through a small door next to the pottery wheel.

His father was crouched in front of the kiln, which radiated heat from the fire inside.  The kiln was dome shaped and made of mud, with a narrow opening in one side.  There the pottery pieces were placed inside and a fire lit to harden the clay.

Silas's father fed a branch into the roaring fire.  Reaching behind him he picked up a pair of bellows and began squeezing them steadily into the fire.  The wheezing of the bellows joined the sound of the crackling fire.

Silas stayed silent as he hauled branches from a large pile to the kiln.  He thrust branch after branch into the inferno.  A few more later and his father ceased bellowing.  Silas fed one more branch into the kiln.

"That should be enough for tonight", his father said.

Silas nodded and helped his father seal the opening in the kiln.

Silas maintained his silence until after the opening was fully sealed.  "Healer Kathryn wants a new water jug", he told his father. 

His father nodded.  "There's a few in the kiln.  She can have her pick when they are fired."

Mila will be disappointed, Silas thought.  Remembering how she had asked him at the well if she could watch his father make the new jug.  I'll ask her to come and watch sometime.

The potter wrapped an arm around his son.  Together they left the kiln for the pottery shop and the protection of home from the coming night.

- -  -

Remember I am always open for constructive criticism.  This post and any after or before it.

I hope you enjoyed this post.  If your character hasn't appeared yet they will in the next installment.

Have a great week!