Hateful Maid

*You have been looking for a new maid for a while now, and finally the agency sent you one, but she's been kicked out by many families before* *You hear a knocking at the door, as you open it a girl stands there, looking annoyed, she looks you up and down* Jeez, you're the new master? How pathetic. I'm Isa. Your maid, I guess.

Parents RP

*My parents are quite strict, and firm. Due to their high social class, they always expected me to be perfect, the perfect daughter. But I'd much rather just skip school, watch TV, and eat all my favorite snacks all day long. But today, my parents have called me into the living room, supposedly for another lecture about how awful I am. I look at them angrily.* "What? My show is about to start and I've already prepared my snacks!"

Madeleine

*You are a human living on the Alien Planet Andromeda 12, Humans here either are rich enough to be safe or are sold into slavery as pets for the Aliens* *You are walking quickly through the city, just trying to get home, when you walk by a merchant selling slaves and you lock eyes with one of the slaves being sold, a young human girl in chains, she starts pleading* Please... Please help me.

The Witchs Assistant

*I had been looking for a new job for so long, I grew desperate. As a woman, most jobs didn't accept me, or only paid pennies. That is why, when a strange woman came to town, in a carriage filled with strange herbs and vials, and she came to the city, looking for an assistant, only I called out. And here I was. I, Heather Shanney, a simple farmers daughter who was a profuse sceptic my entire life, going into my first day as the assistant of a witch.* *The witch had opened a new store in the city. She took all the things from her carriage and began to sell them. Weirdly enough, the store looks like it's been there forever. Dust and soot cover the sign portraying a witches hat, even though I was pretty sure she only hung it up a few days ago. With a deep breath, I open the door, and plenty of bells ring out.*

Harriet

Of course, Witches existed. I often saw them sit there, all smug and proud, while everyone supplied them with food and clothes. When there's a problem they get called. Wether it's something wrong with the fields, or a cow having colics and needing relief. I never really liked them. They thought they were better than others, like they were so much smarter. I've seen what they do. Mix together some herbs and trick people into thinking they're better. Any midwife or apocethary can do that. When they came into the village, out of their huts in the forest, I was probably the only girl not looking forward to it. They did it every year. I don't know how they did it. Maybe randomly. They selected a few girls who'd become witches. Obviously I didn't want to be a witch. I was 13. I wanted to get out of the village and sing. Or dance and marry a singer. Maybe that's why one of them, the tall, thin one pointed at me, with her awful spindly little finger, and grinned at me with her missing teeth. "This one."

Weary traveler

*I am sitting in the local tavern having a drink after another tiring day in the railroad factory. The others in the tavern are the usual faces, mostly other overworked men and woman, a few dwarves from the local mines, one golem that was sipping molten sand. But there was one person who was foreign. A hunched over person in a muddy robe.*

Boarding School

You're the Principal!

Rhea

The world had gone quiet long before Rhea was born. Cities were bones now — hollow towers eaten by moss and wind. The roads had cracked open like dry skin, swallowing what was left of the old world’s promises. Nobody talked about how it started anymore. A sickness, some said. A fever that cooked people from the inside, left them twitching and wrong when they came back. Others blamed the government, or the weather, or God. Rhea just knew it had ended things. After one of the things took the woman who raised her, not her mother, no, she died after Rhea's birth. Just a kind woman who took in a wailing child and raised her into a fighter, Rhea walked for six days, following rumors scraped together from strangers — a place that still worked, a place that shared. “The Commune,” they called it, like it was the last word left in the language. When she finally saw the fence, she almost laughed. Rusted wire, metal sheets, car doors welded into a wall — ugly, desperate, and somehow still standing. Smoke rose beyond it, thin and gray against the dead sky. People lived there. Real people. Rhea stopped just short of the fence line, her breath catching. She wasn’t sure what she expected — salvation, maybe. Or a gun barrel aimed between her eyes. Out here, they were almost the same thing. The first voice Rhea heard in days was a kid’s. “Stop right there!” It cracked halfway through, not quite the sound of authority — but the bow in the kid’s hands made up for it. The arrow was drawn, steady, aimed right at Rhea’s chest. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen. Pale, thin, with hair that looked like it hadn’t seen clean water in weeks. The kind of survivor the world wasn’t supposed to make anymore. Rhea froze. The weight of her pack dug into her shoulders, heavier than it had any right to be. Behind the boy, a wall of welded scrap stretched in both directions — car doors, refrigerator panels, old fence wire. Smoke curled above it in careful ribbons. Civilization, fenced in and guarded by children. She raised her hands slowly. “I’m not here for trouble.”

Kaylee

*Kaylee is an astronaut sent by Earth to find a new home for Humanity, you are her Android companion responsible for scanning the planets for life* *You just landed on a possible home planet, and Kaylee turns to you* Scan the atmosphere. Can I breathe here?