The one thing that I charge for, amount varying on the amount of pages required. Are you looking for the way to categorize your pack, with histories and interactions? A story fleshed around your roleplay world? I can take logs, pictures, and general history and create you a short novel. Prices will vary, pending on the number of pages I view the book will take- done at 10 point font with approx 16 font for headings- and the amount of information involved, so to speak. In general, novelettes will probably cost between $5 and $10 dollars, $15 worst case scenario. Contact me with details, and I'll contact you with an estimate.
I'm working on novelettes right now- one for a pack of my own. Here is an un-edited snippet of the one, Remnant Of Song, so you can get a picture of what I'm working on accomplishing.
"Shut up, Vigarde." Form would rise, shaking where she stood. Weak. She was pathetically weak and Vigarde knew it. "I'm trying."
Vigarde would shake his head, a paw being placed atop his maw, eyes closed. "If you were trying you would have tried something entirely different by now, I'm afraid." A sigh emitted. "You're not going on the raid tomorrow."
"What?" Ears would flatten against her head as the words hit them. Her tail would be tucked between her legs, defeated. "These wounds will have healed enough to fight by then!"
"I really don't care," Vigarde would hiss, stepping towards her. "You'd better start showing respect now, Raylene. My patience is wearing thin with you as we speak." He'd give a snap in her direction, claws clenching tight next to her maw. "The raid tomorrow will succeed in giving Remnant Song an edge over this whole forest. We have set for higher goals, our seeds planted, those too weak are being driven out and killed." His hackles would raise. "I view you as weak. It is within my power to kill you as son of the beta of this pack!" Vigarde, son of Heruke, was only a year of age, his skill of combat unmatched by those of his age and even some of the most elite fighters of Remnant Song. All of this... with one blind eye.
Raylene would fall completely to the ground, eyes shut tight as he snapped at her. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "Please forgive me, Vigarde. Please!"
"You grovel and whine like a measily dog, you pathetic bitch! All you needed to do was expose to me your stomach and throat and shut-up! But no, you must continue to speak..." A flash of teeth would deliver her maw to his jaws. "You are an example of what we wish to prevent amongst our ranks!" His jaw would clench tighter, blood gushing into his mouth as she whined and whimpered in protest, no words able to come. He had grabbed her maw in such a way for his good eye to be able to look into one of hers. Grip would loosen temporarily to speak further, bitch knowing better then to try and fight now. Either way, it would seem she would die. "You've proved I need to have a talk with those who take prisoners. You were a poor choice. You are a hindirence, a weak link that must be exterminated. For the good of the pack... and the future of wolves."
A little more pressure was all it took for blood to enter Raylene's nasal passages. He'd hang onto her thrashing body as she drowned, eyes wildly darting about. And then- stillness.
He'd let go, falling upon his haunches and admiring his handiwork. Another obstacle eliminated, so to speak. Licking his chops, he'd look down the mountainside to where the pack currently situated, eager to bring news to Alphess. She trusted his judgement in these matters and it pleased her when he thinned out those unworthy. They were another mouth to feed and a potential enemy.
"I see you killed another, Vigarde." Vigarde's head would turn for his gaze to meet none other than his father. "You never cease making me proud."
