Hi everyone! I have been thinking about opening up a lore shop in order to make some treasure, but I've run into a pricing issue. Writing is so subjective, and it's hard to determine what sorts of lore users are looking for on here! Anyway, I would love for some opinions on how much my lore is worth. I currently have narrative bios and descriptive bios, so let me know about what you would value for each. (Side note: POV and tense are totally adjustable!) Also, since these can be longer, if I were to adjust the price accordingly, what would be the word count to treasure ratio?
Narrative Bios
You go to the Windswept Plateau to find peace. Peace is present in the calm sunset and bamboo hues of the Zephyr Steppes, where the altitude is low enough to escape the whirring and swishing of the zealous spiral and skydancer dragons in the Reedcleft Ascent. Here the breeze is gentle and warm, and here the hatchlings hesitantly take flight, filling the air with the unabashed laughter of youth.
You go to the Windswept Plateau to find peace, but today you find a face full of pink feathers; today you are swiftly thrown off balance by a small but forceful something. When you emerge from the bamboo bushes, your gaze is met by that of a small fae dragon. She disrupts the muted shades of the plateau with the loud vividness of her pink and rose tones. As she blinks at you expressionlessly with her head tilted sideways, her expressive crest twitches to and fro. A petal jumper trembles on top of her pretty pink neck bow, twirling a violet petal between its legs. The familiar's purple eyes assess you inquisitively. Your gaze darts between the fae and the petal jumper. Your body aches from the impact of your fall. You are full of expectation.
"Oh," says the fae. The wings of the petal jumper quiver. "You were in my way."
A calm breeze stirs the fae's rose feathered wings. Her claws dig into the dirt. You feel your expression morph into a new one, the corners of your mouth inching downward and the crease between your brows deepening. You create your new expression in vain; nothing evokes emotion from the dragon before you, and the only reaction comes from her expressive crest, which shudders sporadically yet gives you no indication of her mood. You open your mouth to speak, but your words are caught on the breeze. After a moment's pause, the fae takes flight.
A storm of rose feathers scatters in the wind, and the fae's pink body flutters toward the Cloudsong. The Zephyr Steppes are orange, green, and peaceful once more, and the fae's spell is over; the soreness in your limbs subsides, your brow slowly unknits itself, and the corners of your mouth stretch lazily outward. A single violet petal twirls softly in the summer breeze.
Descriptive Bios
Long Example:
Morocco is the ever-playful hunter of the clan. While his designated task is hunting, more often than not you will find him flitting about the Reedcleft Ascent (as any wind flight spiral does, of course). Perhaps more than flying, however, he loves to tease; a moment does not go by without a cheeky remark or prank on his part, and no one - not even his mate or the matriarch - is safe.
Morocco's first encounter with Petal did not go smoothly. Petal's rose feathered wings are rather cumbersome, so when she went to the Reedcleft Ascent one day it was no wonder that she found herself struggling to stay in the air. When she took a particularly rough tumble, Morocco snatched her up in a jiffy. Naturally, he began the conversation with a joke. "You know," he teased, "feathers are meant for harpies and dodos." In response, Petal merely blinked at him and replied that she did not care. He offered her a prickly pear as an apology. Struck by the beauty of his robin petals and butterfly wings, Petal simply offered him a spot in her clan instead of accepting his offering.
Morocco's swift reflexes made him a perfect candidate for the clan's hunter. He did not protest; after all, he ate far, far more than his fair share of the meager food reserves the clan had in those early days. He owes a lot of gratitude to Petal for assigning him this task. After all, it was during one of his hunting trips in the Boreal Wood where Morocco met his mate.
Morocco and his mate Somalia are polar opposites. Nonetheless, they are a fine couple; occasionally Morocco manages to crack her icy demeanor with one of his ridiculous antics - a very proud moment for the spiral indeed. Morocco will also have you know that the pair make beautiful hatchlings... and plenty of them. Regardless of the sheer magnitude of his offspring, Morocco keeps all of these hatchlings entertained, and while he is quite a fun father, he manages to get at least one hatchling - his or otherwise - hurt almost every day. Somalia often states that he will be the cause of the lair's extinction, but only time will tell.
Thus, Morocco settled down, but nothing much has changed since he joined the lair. He is as dynamic as ever, and he continues to dash around as dangerously as the average spiral would. Should you ever find yourself in the mood for a prickly pear, simply take a tumble down the Reedcleft Ascent
Short Example:
On any given day, one can find Peach among the bamboo-enclosed garden, tending to the garden as kindly and attentively as she would any dragon. While snappers don't have thumbs, Peach indeed has a green one, and the gardens of the clan are overrun with vibrant green flora that rival those of the Viridian Labyrinth. As a dragon originally born in the fire flight, Peach is as warmhearted as she is warm blooded; when the breezes of the Windswept Plateau get a little too chilly, Peach will nestle in the warmth of the indoors with her oldest and best friend Mango and happily munch on the fruits of her labor.
Narrative Bios
Quote:
You go to the Windswept Plateau to find peace. Peace is present in the calm sunset and bamboo hues of the Zephyr Steppes, where the altitude is low enough to escape the whirring and swishing of the zealous spiral and skydancer dragons in the Reedcleft Ascent. Here the breeze is gentle and warm, and here the hatchlings hesitantly take flight, filling the air with the unabashed laughter of youth.
You go to the Windswept Plateau to find peace, but today you find a face full of pink feathers; today you are swiftly thrown off balance by a small but forceful something. When you emerge from the bamboo bushes, your gaze is met by that of a small fae dragon. She disrupts the muted shades of the plateau with the loud vividness of her pink and rose tones. As she blinks at you expressionlessly with her head tilted sideways, her expressive crest twitches to and fro. A petal jumper trembles on top of her pretty pink neck bow, twirling a violet petal between its legs. The familiar's purple eyes assess you inquisitively. Your gaze darts between the fae and the petal jumper. Your body aches from the impact of your fall. You are full of expectation.
"Oh," says the fae. The wings of the petal jumper quiver. "You were in my way."
A calm breeze stirs the fae's rose feathered wings. Her claws dig into the dirt. You feel your expression morph into a new one, the corners of your mouth inching downward and the crease between your brows deepening. You create your new expression in vain; nothing evokes emotion from the dragon before you, and the only reaction comes from her expressive crest, which shudders sporadically yet gives you no indication of her mood. You open your mouth to speak, but your words are caught on the breeze. After a moment's pause, the fae takes flight.
A storm of rose feathers scatters in the wind, and the fae's pink body flutters toward the Cloudsong. The Zephyr Steppes are orange, green, and peaceful once more, and the fae's spell is over; the soreness in your limbs subsides, your brow slowly unknits itself, and the corners of your mouth stretch lazily outward. A single violet petal twirls softly in the summer breeze.
Descriptive Bios
Long Example:
Quote:
Morocco is the ever-playful hunter of the clan. While his designated task is hunting, more often than not you will find him flitting about the Reedcleft Ascent (as any wind flight spiral does, of course). Perhaps more than flying, however, he loves to tease; a moment does not go by without a cheeky remark or prank on his part, and no one - not even his mate or the matriarch - is safe.
Morocco's first encounter with Petal did not go smoothly. Petal's rose feathered wings are rather cumbersome, so when she went to the Reedcleft Ascent one day it was no wonder that she found herself struggling to stay in the air. When she took a particularly rough tumble, Morocco snatched her up in a jiffy. Naturally, he began the conversation with a joke. "You know," he teased, "feathers are meant for harpies and dodos." In response, Petal merely blinked at him and replied that she did not care. He offered her a prickly pear as an apology. Struck by the beauty of his robin petals and butterfly wings, Petal simply offered him a spot in her clan instead of accepting his offering.
Morocco's swift reflexes made him a perfect candidate for the clan's hunter. He did not protest; after all, he ate far, far more than his fair share of the meager food reserves the clan had in those early days. He owes a lot of gratitude to Petal for assigning him this task. After all, it was during one of his hunting trips in the Boreal Wood where Morocco met his mate.
Morocco and his mate Somalia are polar opposites. Nonetheless, they are a fine couple; occasionally Morocco manages to crack her icy demeanor with one of his ridiculous antics - a very proud moment for the spiral indeed. Morocco will also have you know that the pair make beautiful hatchlings... and plenty of them. Regardless of the sheer magnitude of his offspring, Morocco keeps all of these hatchlings entertained, and while he is quite a fun father, he manages to get at least one hatchling - his or otherwise - hurt almost every day. Somalia often states that he will be the cause of the lair's extinction, but only time will tell.
Thus, Morocco settled down, but nothing much has changed since he joined the lair. He is as dynamic as ever, and he continues to dash around as dangerously as the average spiral would. Should you ever find yourself in the mood for a prickly pear, simply take a tumble down the Reedcleft Ascent
Short Example:
Quote:
On any given day, one can find Peach among the bamboo-enclosed garden, tending to the garden as kindly and attentively as she would any dragon. While snappers don't have thumbs, Peach indeed has a green one, and the gardens of the clan are overrun with vibrant green flora that rival those of the Viridian Labyrinth. As a dragon originally born in the fire flight, Peach is as warmhearted as she is warm blooded; when the breezes of the Windswept Plateau get a little too chilly, Peach will nestle in the warmth of the indoors with her oldest and best friend Mango and happily munch on the fruits of her labor.
