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So you're new here.So you’ve made it to the first round of PHOCT. The journal that Robin and the judges have posted has your name on it, along with the person you are going to be facing. Congrats! But now there are all these sticky questions floating around in your mind. I’m guessing you got through the auditions okay, given that you’re here. But now you have to use other people’s characters (gasp shock and awe), and frankly, the whole damn thing makes you a little bit nervous.
That’s why we’re here. And never be afraid to ask questions.
So I have to go up against someone else… What if I don’t know their character well enough?
Send them a note. Seriously. That’s all it takes. Everyone’s competing at the same level that you are. We all want to see good stories come out of this, want to see people learn—and admit it, it’s pretty cool to see your characters come out of someone else
The OathI will serve my king and queen. Dmitri ducked behind a table as the first volley of shots rang out, felling many of the loyal and shocked royal guard, his hands automatically going to his twin pistols hidden under his coat. He scanned the quickly erupting chaos and grimaced. Royal guards all wore the same uniform. It was hard to tell those loyal from those not.
For once, he could see his way out of the situation. They hadn't barricaded the doors yet. Even better, they were clear of opponents and only a few feet away. He grimaced in disgust. The one time he couldn't use an exit My loyalty belongs only to the country.
It was time to act. He moved from a table to one of the ornate pillars and looked up toward the dais, toward his king and queen. It was really too bad he hadn't thought something like this would happen; he wasn't as prepared as he could have been. I have taken this oath of blood and magic knowing full well what may be ahead of me. He would h
Blue Eyes in FlamesWhen the prince sees the flower bloom from the palm of her hand, he orders her arrest.
She is only seven years old.
He takes the flower from her and keeps it, even though he knows he shouldn't. He puts it a vase, or, rather, his servant does that for him. The flower doesn't ever die, even years later.
It's dawn of a December morning, and he's cold. But still, he stands next to his father dutifully and looks at the little girl with blue eyes that are now black from seven nights sleeping on a cold, dungeon floor behind bars. They cut off her dark brown hair during that time. She's tied to the pyre, and there are seven guards around her, holding sharper swords than normal, not that she could get away. There's one man dressed in black holding an unlit torch, with a mask over his face to prevent his death. His father raises his arm, and the torch is lit.
She locks her gaze to his, and he blinks at her. It's like she expects him to prevent it. He couldn't, though, he can't. She scares him, w
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More