#character generator meme

[broadswordandpistol]

This guy reminds you of a dishonest shyster. He has large green eyes that are like two emeralds. His luxurious, straight, white hair is medium-length and is worn in a precise, uncomplicated style. He is short and has an overmuscled build. His skin is ruddy. He has a weak chin. His wardrobe is artistic, and is completely brown and gray.

[Character Generator meme]

“Well, hello there, both of you. I can’t say this was precisely who I expected when I posted that little job offering, but I’m glad to see someone was interested.” Jareid’s smile was as precisely cut as his hairline. He leaned in toward the young man and the floating ghost conspiratorially. 

“It’s always true what they say, for the tough jobs, it’s best to hire an expert. You two look like you’re more than experts. I know, I know, graveyard work is probably a cliche for you by now, but let me promise you that it’s not the usual bones and dirt, no no.” He laid a finger aside his nose. “The Marble Mausoleum’s the biggest cemetery this side of the Kingfisher Range, and word is that the ghosts there have been excavating their own caverns down below. I doubt anyone would have noticed, if they hadn’t been piling the dirt where it would slide down onto the fields below.” 

Jareid pushed his chair back, rubbing his hands together briskly. “What do you think, interested in taking a peek?”

[broadswordandpistol]

This soulful man has beady turquoise eyes. His luxurious, wavy, yellow hair is worn in a style that reminds you of a wave of water. He is very short and has a wide-chested build. His skin is white. He has large ears, protruding from his head like those of a monkey's. His wardrobe is mysterious, with a lot of pastels, and he has strange teardrop-shaped tattoos on his cheeks, almost as if he were constantly crying.

[Character Generator Meme] [Okay, I know this is supposed to be from the generated character’s perspective, but this one is demanding to be from the other character’s perspective. Sorry!] 

A smooth voice reached his ears. “Eh, lad, where’re you going? Stop a while. Keep an old man company for a song or three.”

The voice was at odds with the man’s appearance; faded blond hair and tattooed leathery skin, clad in garish, if tidy, stripes of icy pink, blue, and green. Rish slowed, one hand tightening on the strap of his pack, and Howler crowded closer to his ankle. There were bards in every city, demanding attention and a coin. Rish had little to spare of the former and none to spare of the latter.

The old man’s seamed face split into a thin, gap-toothed smile. The faded blue tears tattooed on his cheeks wriggled themselves into squashed ovals. “I know, you’ve got places to go and people to see. Time’s less important than you young’uns think it is.” A mbira lay in his lap; he picked out a plucky melody that ebbed into something more somber. The music had teeth; it dragged at Rish’s soul in an uncomfortably familiar way that he could not name. Against his better judgement, he stopped.

“I’ve got no money, if that’s what you’re after, old man,” Rish warned him. Howler whined, picking up on his master’s unease.

“Do I look like a lady of the night, begging you for coin in exchange for a tumble?” he chuckled. “Some songs want certain audiences, and this one has been waiting for a long time for the right face to come along.” A few more notes followed, punctuating the sentence with a lilting refrain.

Howler edged closer to the old man, sniffing at him with sharp-toothed caution. Rish balked. Howler was good at picking out shysters, and it sure felt like the bard was one of them. The blond leaned down to offer a palm to the dog, still plucking stray notes with the other. Howler considered, allowed one ear petting, then folded himself into a seated position. Attentive, but not within arm’s length.

Rish could have kept moving, he supposed. Howler would follow if he did. 

He folded his arms with a scowl. “All right, one song.”

The old man’s eyes crinkled up at the edges into spectacular crow’s feet. “That’s a lad. Now, this is a song about a son with no shadow --”

[broadswordandpistol]

This lady reminds you of an elusive unicorn. She has round iron-gray eyes. Her silky, straight, purple hair is worn in a style that reminds you of a pile of leaves. She has an hourglass build. Her skin is china-white. She has small ears and a weak chin. Her wardrobe is utilitarian. (from the generator)

[Character Generator Meme] [This one wants to be a full scene, allow me to add another character in here, as I do not wish to presume to write yours or anything like that.]

“This is neither the time nor the place for that discussion.” Shiryana touched a finger to her lips, then beckoned towards the paper screen.

The thin door led out to a tiny screened garden, thick with damp moss and irregular stones. She folded herself compactly onto one of the cushions, and gestured towards the far wall. An unobtrusive servant there bowed and scurried away at the motion. Shiryana followed the motion with her eyes, then returned to the present.

“Sit. We have a few moments.” It was not an invitation. Orduro knelt into the cushion, less gracefully than his host, and visibly debated where to put his hands, first folding them across his chest, then folding them in his lap. Shiryana did him the favor of taking no notice of his discomfort.

“You understand, of course, that your request could be considered grounds for treason,” she informed him coolly. “My father likes you. He is aging ungracefully, but his character judgement has always been excellent. On his estimation, I will give you the benefit of the doubt that you did not intend such an implication.”

A thin trickle of sweat slid down the side of Orduro’s neck. He fidgeted again, shifting his hands to his knees, his knuckles white. “Begging your pardon, milady, but that is exactly what I intended.”