This is mainly to see how people respond to my writing style, the story isnt important for the moment since well… i havent wrote enough for there to be much a story.
The main character is Jarvis. It isnt mentioned in the story as of yet due to it being writen 1st person… Ill have to change somewhere to fit his name in i guess.
Jarvis himself is arrogant, selfcentered and well… cruel. he takes pleasure in the pain of others, and believes everyone to be beneth him. I thought it’d be intresting for the main char to be the bad guy.
There will be another main character, who will also be wrote 1st person, he’ll view thing differently from Jarvis. so discriptions of places will differ between them. He’ll be the “good” to counter point the “bad”.
when ever both of these main characters are in the same area, so to speak, the story will be wrote 3rd person.
Anyway, My questions to anyone who reads this are:
What does Jarvis look like? His hair is long and black. but im undecided what his face looks like, hansome? ugly? scars? is he tall, short? I know people get an image of someone in their head when they read, so what was yours?
Is jarvis a noble, born to a wealthy common family, or just acting better than others?
there isnt really any gore, or much cruelty… as yet. I could see easily offended people not liking this though, they’d have to be very easily offended from my point of view though… but still, id rather warn than get abuse 
er, there is swearing, i dont think thats allowed on the other boards, wasnt sure it’d matter on a media board? sorry in advance if it does.
Journals of Jarvis.
Who are they to lecture me? I who have done so much for them? I made them what they are and now they shun me? Pathetic fools with small dreams and small minds. They cannot see the bigger picture.
Chapter 1
The lanterns flickered, casting their warm glow across the dingy taproom, the insistent chatter of maybe twenty patrons insisted on contaminating my ears. No matter how hard I try their pathetic voices will not be drowned out. No matter how much I drink I can’t seem to find peace.
Jace sat across from me, his face barely visible in the dim light of the dark corner we occupied. “Shit. These bastards have no idea what’s coming”, a cruel smile twisting his hansom features. “Not long now hey?”
Sighing inwardly I leaned back in my chair glancing around the room at the other patrons of the inn, a group over in front of the fire pit played cards, while over near the door a dozen off duty constables where taking their ease. “No… they have no idea. I don’t believe it matters, its over for them anyway.” I dragged my hand down across my face, the drink was getting to me and I was beginning to feel tired. “We should leave, we’ve saw what we needed to see… and those card players look agitated, id rather not have to spill their blood should they start a brawl, not yet at least.” I stood up, my soft leather body armour creaking slightly with my movements. I brushed my long black hair out of my face and turned towards to door.
Smoke, the stench of burning flesh. All that’s left of this once fine village and its oh so important inhabitants is ashes. I walked forwards into the village stepping over the body of a child, little more than 4 years old at a guess, her mother lying on the dirt alongside her, arms wrapped protectively around her child in a vain attempt to protect her before the swords plunged into their flesh.
A man lunged out of the shadows of an ally way sword in hand he charged at me, a thin red line appeared across his throat… he stumbled and blinked in surprise, slowly falling to his knees and then face forwards into the dirt. Blood pooled at my feet… staining my riding boots no doubt, how I hate this scum. I sheathed my blade, long and slightly curved using it had become second nature, instinct.
I turned at the sound of a horse “Ho sir, I see one of ‘em survived, he gave you no trouble I ‘ope?” Sergeant Brigan, an uncouth fool, unshaven and unwashed. His smell should have been enough to clear this town out.
”No, no trouble at all,” I gave him a scathing glace “Send out riders, search the countryside, we don’t want any of our rabbits escaping to bring back help before we’re done.”
”Consider it done sire, if you don’t mind me askin’ how come we had to keep some of the rabbits alive?” he look on edge, he knows better than to question me… he’s seen what happens to those who do. The men have a right to know my intentions I guess. “They’re alive, my loyal and devoted sergeant, because I intent to use them to leave a message to any who would speak against us.” I walk away from him, I don’t deign to give him as much as a backwards glance. Ah, the town centre and my little rabbits are here waiting. Convenient, I could get used to this. “Quiet. Can any of you remember a message?” out of the 40-50 people in the square maybe 10-15 raised their hands; I picked one out at random. “You, boy, here. You can remember my message for when the soldiers arrive cant you?” yes yes, of course you can. Your life may depend on it. Tell them this is an example of what happens to those who oppose us, they’ll do well to keep out of my way.” How terrified he looks… shaking, ash covering his face, lines cleansed of the dirt by his tears, as he no doubt watched his loved ones die. The next hour was filled with the sounds of screams, beautiful screams.
We rode out afterwards; leaving the poor fool who still lived tied to a post amidst the bodies of his once friends.