No, there's no minimum. Just make sure that everyone else isn't stuck with a THE END situation.
Here we go!
Prompt
It was the start of a brand new week in Gaia. The blue sky was dotted like light clouds of fluff. The trees were starting to change their once vibrant summer colors into the nice warm autumn gold. The forums were crowded with loud chatter. Bids, debates, begging, discussion and spam alike were crammed into the ever expanding rooms of people.
All of this served as a bit of a motivator for one man. A man with white silk stitches woven into his skin. His long wavy hair fell back behind his primed shoulders, framing his pale green and light bronze face. He watched the people of Gaia from the high window of Gaia HQ, with one dark eye and the other with a golden hue. He sees them all, stumbling about in their everyday lives. Lives that were effected by his touch, noticeable but fair.
All he wanted was to live his life, knowing that he could change people. In Gaia, what could effect a Gaian more than their quality of their clothes? He inspected every fabric and thread. The man made sure that all of them were fit, to be purchased and worn by everyone who could. However, some of these odd clothes, as strange as they were, often played tricks and glitched to no end. For then it was his duty, to right what was turned wrong.
He would march down to the artists, armed with papers that were for each. One part were the listed glitches, the other were legal restraints. The man would watch over the artists like a hawk. He wanted the glitch fixes done right and checked them all.
However, as diligent as he was. . . He could not keep up. With the high towers of papers of glitches that were found. So many to do, yet so little time for them to do it. Artists were too busy with new production and paid no attention to his papers. The man with stitches was often not heard, "There's no other way" he murmured, "I must get more help."
All of this served as a bit of a motivator for one man. A man with white silk stitches woven into his skin. His long wavy hair fell back behind his primed shoulders, framing his pale green and light bronze face. He watched the people of Gaia from the high window of Gaia HQ, with one dark eye and the other with a golden hue. He sees them all, stumbling about in their everyday lives. Lives that were effected by his touch, noticeable but fair.
All he wanted was to live his life, knowing that he could change people. In Gaia, what could effect a Gaian more than their quality of their clothes? He inspected every fabric and thread. The man made sure that all of them were fit, to be purchased and worn by everyone who could. However, some of these odd clothes, as strange as they were, often played tricks and glitched to no end. For then it was his duty, to right what was turned wrong.
He would march down to the artists, armed with papers that were for each. One part were the listed glitches, the other were legal restraints. The man would watch over the artists like a hawk. He wanted the glitch fixes done right and checked them all.
However, as diligent as he was. . . He could not keep up. With the high towers of papers of glitches that were found. So many to do, yet so little time for them to do it. Artists were too busy with new production and paid no attention to his papers. The man with stitches was often not heard, "There's no other way" he murmured, "I must get more help."
Sorry guys, I was in a bit of a rhyming mood so the prompt's a bit weird. Go ahead and post what happens next! Remember, your post will follow the post above you!
~Have fun everyone!
