Welcome Characters!

This is your safe haven. Your place to get away from duels and from mean authors. Away from torture, heartbreak, and anything else your authors might be throwing at you. I am a trusted source as I prefer writing fan fiction, which deals with other peoples' characters, not my own. I am objective and here to listen. (Beware, though. If you truly are a horrible, obnoxious person, my therapy might be strenuous at times.)

I work amazingly with all sorts of characters. My results could be almost like magic. But beware, all magic comes with a price. For your sessions, I only require one thing in return: your first born.

Wait, you really believed that? I'm just kidding! Admission is free. Come on in!

P.S. Authors, feel free to drag your characters here and drop them off.

Skooter: *lopes into the room as otters are want to do and begins sniffing around*

Aha! My first customer! Welcome. Who might you be, and why did you come to see me?

Skooter: *cocks his head at being spoken to* Have you fish?

I do! Would you like some fish?

Skooter: *nods violently*

*tosses the fish to the otter* Let's see how well you play catch.

Skooter: *misses but grabs it and runs into the corner to munch on it *

Ouska: *walks slowly in, leaning on his spear with an ancient battered shield slung across his back* I was told to journey here, to this strange place, for a reason that was not given to me.

Come in Ouska! Take a seat. *gestures to a chair in front of a desk*

Has anything been troubling you lately? Your author? Your life? Your story? Your injuries?

Ouska: *warily takes a seat in front of the desk* *considers* All of them, I believe. *glares at Varon* He's been changin' things. Made me a mass-murderer.

Me: *uneasy smile*

Oh no! How horrible. What sort of a person were you before that? I'm certain it's not your fault. You poor thing! Being changed to a horrible person like that by your mean author. Dig deep to your core. Who are you deep down inside? *hands some hot chocolate with a marshmallow smiley face on top*



Shoo! Get out of here! Authors aren't allowed! *shoos Varon out*

Ouska: *takes hot chocolate and sips it cautiously* I was almost a mass murderer. Treasure hunter. Mercenary. Failed bard. *considers and scowls* Centuries younger.

Well, see. You weren't a bad person before... aside from the whole mercenary thing... A failed bard, eh? So I suppose you're a lover of great art, especially written art? Tell me about your favorite poem.

Ouska: *straightens, bones creaking and a fire igniting in his eyes* Poetry! I would not sully the strings of my harp with such a thing. Nor is there shame in mercenary work. Not all are fortunate enough to till land of their own, or dwell in woods rich enough hunt or gather.

Oh, my bad! I'm sorry. You're right, those are honorable deeds within the mercenary field. My understanding of the field has been more on the darker side of mercenary work. Thank you for clarifying.

And if you despise poetry, what sorts of things do you enjoy as a bard? Obviously you play the harp. What sorts of tunes do you enjoy? Do you sing ballads, or does that fall under the category of poetry?

Ouska: Heh. Such dark sides belong to all professions in which men belong to. Ballads as poetry? *gives a confused look* Has none ever taught ye the ways of song? Poetry *makes rude noise in the back of his throat* is that new fashion for those of the North with their spoken word to "soft musical accompaniment." *makes rude noise again* There is power in song, and wisdom also, that gives bards the authority to judge disputes even amongst the great kings.

*shoves Tinsley in* *bolts door behind her*

Tinsley: =_= *slinks to the corner and lurks*

Zhef and Zharf walk casually into the room. Zhef walks up to the side of the desk and addresses Captain Nemo.

Zhef:
Sorry about the weird formatting.

Zhef points over his shoulder at Zharf who walks along one of the book shelves.

Zhef:
He is insisting that we don't use asterisks anymore. Anyway, do we take a number or what?

Zharf carefully pulls a book off with his nose and catches it in his mouth. He turns to find a corner to curl up in and notices Skooter gnawing violently on a fish. Zharf cocks an eyebrow and walks to the opposite corner to begin reading.

Oh goodness! I am sorry for not understanding previously. I knew music had power and language, but that is incredible that you use it for such purposes. I commend you for such. What song is your favorite to play, and why? What does it communicate to others?

*quietly walks over to Tinsley*

Hello there. *smiles* What is your name? And why might your author have forced you to come here? Would you like to sit down? *gestures to a chair*

*looks Zhef in the eyes* No, you don't need a number, sir. I can talk to multiple people at once. Tell me your grievances. *motions to a chair, then sits on the edge of her desk* Can I offer you anything? A shock blanket? Tea? Food?

Tinsley: *suspicious frown, narrowing her bicolored eyes* Vat do you vant? =_=

*gently* What do I want? Hmm. What I want is to help you, as I know authors can be quite hurtful. Is your author treating you unkindly?

Tinsley: *choppy, brisk nod* Vy do you vant to help me. =_=

*soft smile* That's my job. I'm here to help and keep you safe from your authoress. This is a place of sanctuary and healing. So if there is anything you need, even a quiet corner to rest and be alone, that is fine. Just let me know.

Tinsley: I don't know vy you vant to help me. Vat do you vant from me? =_=

I want nothing more than you to be healthy both mentally, physically, and spiritually, my friend. Why would I not want to help you? You're just like anyone else who needs help.

Tinsley: Ha! Haha! No-vaughn ever vants to help me. =_=

Well then, fine. I've offered my help, and you've refused it. You're welcome to leave if you wish. But my door is always open for you, too.

Ouska: Hmmph. Youths these days have no respect for the power of the songs these days, and their elders care not to teach. As for me favorite, I am attached to the tale of Lyrianur and Utontol. Tragic, but full of hope at the same time.

Tinsley: I'm not allowed to leaf. -_- Do you haff peppermint?

Me: *shoves Oarhu in and slams door*
Oarhu: Prince Oarhu! *gives a look of injured pride* As that person has rudely forced me here against my wvill, I order you to punish her. Not only has she done this but she also constantly tries to order me, Oarhu Acant'helorea, as she pleases (Of course she cannot succeed). I unterstand you haf little power, but perform my wvill to the best of your abilities. *folds arms against chest*

Gram: *Pokes head in*

It's kinda crowded in here. Bad time?

Zhef looks around the room at the other guests who appear to be talking to the same person in front of him. He looks back to the woman sitting on the desk and notices a name-tag that reads "Captain Nemo Marlene".

Zhef:
So...Cap, you're talking to all of those people at the same time? Is that your idea of Psychotherapeutic? Don't get me wrong, I love a good paradox when I stumble on it, but...

Zhef happens to notice a gold bar beneath Nemo's name tag that reads "Captain". Zharf licks his paw and turns the page of his book.

Zhef:
...but maybe I should just get going now.

Zhef very quickly and awkwardly walks over to Zharf and snatches his book.

Zharf:
Hey!

Zhef:
Thank me later. It has a horrible ending.