TotW 256 – Survival
wildlife, alive, water, shelter
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Winner – William the Marshal
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:The books had burned swiftly, old and dry as most of them were. Only with the coming of the rain through the collapsed ceiling did the flames abate. Now water ended what fire had begun, soaking through paper, ink and ash, blotting out the words within the covers.
A pale sun rose over the ruin, illuminating it with emotionless light. The forest rustled with the sounds of wildlife. The birds sang as they did every morning, heedless of the destruction that had been wrought. In some corners of the library the ashes still smoldered, having been sheltered from the rain in the night. The boy pushed the last soil into the librarian's grave. He thought briefly of saying something, but his lungs were still raw from the smoke that had choked the old man; in any case, he could think of nothing to say. It was senseless. They had killed the man who raised him, burned the only home he had ever known. What drove them to do it? Had the library hidden some dark secret? Was it a simple love of destruction? He did not know. All he knew was that he was alive, while the library and its caretaker were dead.
The boy wandered the library's halls, now open to the sky, his feet sinking into the slurry of wet ash. He saw on the ground a scrap of paper that had partially survived the burning. Picking it up, he read "Titus... the castle... lost, lost... the burning". Nothing more was legible. He folded the paper and placed it in his pocket, performing the simple gestures with a quiet reverence. Then he resumed his course through the ashes of lost knowledge.
He knelt once more before the old man's grave. Bleakly he stared at the mound of earth, his lips shaping a single sentence over and over.
"I didn't know your name."
He plunged his hands into his pockets, bringing out fistfuls of paper - what little of the library's contents had escaped the flames. Were these words, he wondered, somehow worthier than the rest? Had they been preserved because of some greater value? He doubted it. His hands shaking, he spilled the scraps of paper over the librarian's grave, then stood and looked long before turning.
As the boy walked away, a breeze stirred the charred relics with which he had marked the dead man. Singing softly, it carried them spiraling up over the library's ruins, into the pale sunlight.
Entrant 2 – Rabbit55821
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:The bullets ripped through the makeshift merchant booths, which were being used as shelter from the gunman's bloody campaign. They were nothing like what a true medieval booth would have looked like, but no one cared. Besides, the fair was only pretend. Perhaps the bullets were too. Perhaps the gun and the corpses were all just a twisted illusion.
The gunman paused for a moment, ejecting a magazine from his rifle and swiftly reloading. Boom. Boom. Another corpse was made, this one dressed in fake chain-mail. Two bullets found their way to the man as he attempted escape, one scattering through his chest and lungs, the other creating a clean hole through his rib cage. Crimson blood spurted from him as he fell to his knee. Boom. Another bullet was fired, this one penetrating his skull and killing him instantly.
Everyone was running. Screams echoed through what had once been a happy and joyful renaissance fair. The Police would say the gunman had a specific target, but that after killing her, he had realized his life was over and decided to bring others with him. Politicians on the left would use the event to demand even more gun-control, some of the more extreme would even use the event to push for the end of capital punishment. The Right would refuse the claims of the left, saying the reports had been falsified to push a political agenda. The obvious claims would also be made, that the attack had been the act of a terrorist.
But it was not a terrorist attack. The Gunman had been enraged by his ex-girlfriend, and he had went there to kill her. In his depraved mindset, everyone else was a villain for consorting with the woman, so he shot them. Most didn't even know the woman, as she was shy and an introvert, only finding reprieve in her writings and research. She had broken up with the gunman at the behest of her parents, who called him a horrible influence for his atheistic views, which would corrupt their religious daughter. They weren't aware she herself was struggling with her religion, and her studies of the history of Christianity only furthered her belief that religion was a fake.
Yet the men and women at the fair didn't care for the reason or the backstory. They only cared that they were still alive. By the time the shooting had stopped, and the gunman had been killed, nearly everything was dead, from the wildlife kept for display to the child who had been dragged along by his parents. The survivors were all collected and given water as they gave detailed reports of the shooting. Most would end up in therapy for years. A few would even commit suicide, such as the man in charge of the stables, who's daughter died on the operating table. The attack would live on forever in the memories of the survivors, but the country would soon forget it.
Besides, it was just another shooting.
Entrant 3 – mad orc
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:Survival .
Panama 1881 :Mortality rates were high for the workers working in the French endeavour of building a canal in the Panama .Just weeks before it closed down 5 men of the 32nd worker group found themselves in a dilemma over a very basic fact,,,survival .The 5 were British workers .Richard Durell ,Keith Williamson,Seth Collins ,John Bay and Roger Doggs .But of these 5 men ,4 were much more afraid .Afraid for their soul .For Roger the weakest of the group was going to die .They had been lost in the wilderness while out exploring much away from the construction .They had finally given up hope after 2 weeks of being lost .They had not eaten a morsel of food and had lost their energy .Yes there was water to drink,lots of it .But food was scarce as most of the plants in the area were poisonous and unedible and there were almost no animals to hunt for food .The wild life had just disappeared . .Currenty they were sitting on their campsite .They had made a small wooden shelter to remain alive.
Coming back to the present,the reason Roger had to die was simple,food was the reason .The group had thought of this for long and everybody knew that to survive sooner or later they would have to sell their souls to the devil .They had tried long and hard to avoid it ,but after 2 weeks of hunger a man’s soul seemed like a cheap price to pay for food .Roger himself standing at 5feet knew it too .
The rest of the 4 had planned it meticulously when Roger had gone for natures callings .John emotionally the weakest had tried to persuade the remaining to wait for some time ,but he knew that he would not succeed .They had to do it .Currently Seth said “Roger look at that tree ,I see a crow behind it ,lets catch it .”Roger who finally realised that the moment had arrived tried to reason “We can survive more,don’t do it,wait for some more time,please don’t kill me.”The remaining 4 did not say anything,their mouths were shut .The pangs of hunger had got to them .They viewed Roger as nothing but a tasty piece of meat .Slowly they got up with their axes and teamed up on him .Roger tried to run but outnumbered and weak he simply slumped down .The next few moments were gruesome.
Food,finally the meat was served by Keith who roasted it on the fire .But as each one of them put the first morsel into their mouths they wondered how their future home would look like,would hell be hot as lava or cold as Lucifer .
At that moment they heard a voice “32nd amigos were were you gone “ .It was Richardo Diaz the manager of the group .
Entrant 4 – Mhaedros
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:The Lion King was at a loss for action. What had begun as seemingly normal, had become catastrophe. He felt it all slipping away from him; his loyal subjects were grumbling, and there were whispers of a faction, known as the Independent Wildlife Party, rising in popularity amongst the lower classes who were planning on opposing him in the next election.
‘This whole affair with the disappeared rabbits had played right into their greedy little hands!, he shouted to no one in particular as he considered his options. What was worse than the rabbits, however, was the death of a young buck in what the newspapers were calling the highest profile murder case in decades. If any old buck had gone and died it wouldn’t be so bad, but this particular one was the son of one of the Lion King’s most important donors, and the parents had demanded they get their vengeance. But what could the King do, when even his chief of police Grey Wolf couldn’t identify the device stuck in the buck’s throat. A long shaft of wood with a sharp stone head shoved into the flesh of the poor animal with some force; everyone involved were at a loss for words.
And as if it couldn’t get any force, the King’s old ally, the Dolphin Queen had been deposed in the nearby waters, apparently by an uprising mostly consisting of the lower classes. Of course the lion had immediately invited his friend to seek shelterat his palace until the rebellion had been put down, but the only reply was that soon he too would pay.
The lion cursed politics in all its forms, before considering his next move. The strange murder was important, but the murmurs of uprising must be put down before they could truly begin.
A sudden shriek awoke the King from his thoughts and brought him to the palace window, from where he quickly retreated. Below him the kingdom was in flames, and strange creatures were slaughtering his subjects! They shouted and laughed in words he could not understand, and they fought not using their claws and teeth, but carried wooden sticks and rocks. His animals had been caught off guard, and were being slaughtered by the strange warriors!
All thoughts of politics and murder left the King’s mind as he fled the palace. Only one thing was important now; to stay alive for the wars to come.
TotW 257 – Troll
monster, light, claws, break, captive
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Winner – Admiral Van Tromp
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:The Great Lion of Iskat
And thus arose the great lion of Iskat
From the precipice upon which he sat.
Its claws clinging to ancient stone.
Its jaws eager to part meat from bone.
The monster roared, loud as thunder.
The hero looked on in fear and wonder.
Brave Uruzar warning did receive,
But he could see the silver captive.
A swan, shining like the sun in the sea
Struck by the beast on wing and knee.
Uruzar saw divinity in its silver light.
Surely it was heavenly bright.
His heart did then decide to defy
The beast that could roar courage dry.
For Uruzar shielded the weak
And he had to save a being so meek.
The lion saw that Uruzar was resolute
And wondered how much courage it took
To challenge the great terror of Iskat
Without flinching or losing his heart.
The adversaries did measure each other,
The bringer of chaos and the champion of order.
The swan looked on in doubt and pain,
Certain the noble attempt would be in vain.
The beast of Iskat over Uruzar did fly,
The hero’s spear thrusting in reply.
Piercing only air with its sharp tip,
Dodging the tail, that cracked like a whip.
He lifted the shield above his head
To block fearsome claws eager to shred.
The lion circled around his feet
And every blow did the shield meet.
Uruzar needed to find the one chance
To put an end to this deadly dance.
As the beast wouldn’t soon tire,
Its heart raging like a blinding pyre.
Fury made the terror’s strength great
Perhaps it could as easily seal its fate.
For terrible anger, if not contained
Is prey to those who keep it restrained.
Uruzar had only to wait and defend
Until the lion itself gave way to its end.
As the claws fell down on the shield,
He prayed to the gods and did not yield.
Soon its attention did momently slip
And Uruzar buried the spear deep.
He stabbed the core of the lion of Iskat,
Piercing though the monster’s heart.
The agonizing creature howled in pain.
Bathing in blood, blind and insane.
It quickly fell down over its own weight
For its own fury did its might break.
The swan waved its wings in vain,
Its body broken and trembling in pain.
But it was safe from the lion of Iskat
Whose fierce chest got torn apart.
Uruzar for the bird’s misfortune did weep
And admiring its light he did sorely sit.
He could not be ready for the surprise
That soon took place before his eyes.
For he was right when he deemed divine
The way the swan did in silver shine.
As before him arose in beauty and grace
The holy Edali, with gratitude in her face.
With great joy the hero then realised
That the silver swan was the goddess disguised.
Edali gave him her daughter’s hand for the feat,
As the monstrous lion laid dead in defeat.
Entrant 2 – Shankbot de Bodemloze
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:From the top of the mountain side Gareth looked down upon the hooman city in all its glory - it's persistent light radiating out, fighting against the encroaching darkness. He let out a deep sigh, wishing he could be down there amongst the lights, amongst the people! "Why do they view us as monsters, Big Toe? Why can't we live together in peace?"
Big Toe was an older troll, his sizeable claws giving away his age, but they had become fast friends in the colony that had inhabited this particular mountain side, even since Gareth and his parents had moved from Trollville to a more rural home. Big Toe looked up from the whole chicken he was chewing on, wiping his mouth clean with his wrist before scratching his chin thoughtfully, "Because Pinkie, the hoomans hunt us for these," he said gesturing to his claws, using his affectionate name for Gareth. "We tried living with the hoomans but they kept wanting more so we had to defend ourselves."
"But those wars were so long ago, surely now we could try again? I mean look at those lights!" came the Gareth's excited response.
Big Toe paused to look down upon the city, "Looks like stars too me Pinkie, we have a better view from this mountainside." He shook is head sadly, "You're too young to understand, Thumb over there was held captive by the hoomans for a long long time, if he hadn't managed to break free with Ring Fing and Little Piggie they would have taken him for his claws, he's the only survivor from those wars left now but still remembers it clear as day." He pointed over to Thumb, a once large Troll bent crooked with age, with long grey whiskers drooping down either side of his contorted face. "Plus, we have nice chicken here," and with that Big Toe tucked back into his dinner.
Gareth let out a sigh, these conversations always ended the same - but he was determined when he was an adult Troll he would go and visit the hoomans and discover how they make light stay during the night.
Entrant 3 – Socrates1984
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:The Awakening
"This light is hurting my eyes!"
Close them quick. Yes, better now. Wait. What are these shadows in front of my face? Have they put something in front of the light's source? No, certainly not. But, is it coming from my own face? It can't be. Are these tusks? My own tusks?!
"Good night honey..."
Oh, man, is it possible to still feel in love with this girl? I must be the luckiest man in the world. Well, the guys at work are constantly making fun of me, but it's not heir fault. I was the one to share my situation with this sweetest girlfriend of mine and my feelings for her. Tomorrow though I will show them.
"I have got to break free!"
If only I could twist my wirst a bit more! Like them or not, these claws look dangerously sharp. They seem to be the natural extension of my new muscular arms. Wait, these bonds. Maybe I could try... My body looks hideously strong and enlarged.
"Sooo. Who's gonna come with me? The Knicks are playing tonight."
Too much time with my girlfriend, huh? Yeah, that's the response I was hoping for guys. Who's his girlfriend's pet now?
"It's dark in here. But I can see?"
No colors, but all shapes as clear as in daylight. GOD DAMN! I didn't see that pond! It's all wet and damp down here. Maybe if I let the waters calm, I could see my reflection.
No wonder they were holding me captive. I've become a monster.
Entrant 4 – Mhaedros
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:Beneath the hills north of the village lived a friendly old troll named Humharumph. During the long winter nights the elders in the city would tell tales from their own childhoods, of when the kindly old troll would stroll down the hills and visit upon the humans at the same time as the first flowers grew in the ditches around the village. Then he would play with the children as the parents worked, and when fall came he would help the farmers bring in the harvest with his monstrous strength. For he was no monster; everybody loved Humharumph the helpful troll.
But one spring when Humharumph came down to the settlement, all he could find was blood and fire. He screamed in agony, as he recognized the charred bodies piled outside the biggest hut in the village. He had seen every one of those souls grow up, only to end this way! But soon he ceased his cry, when he heard a lighter voice crying with him. A small girl had escaped, and told him her tale.
A nearby baron had sent soldiers to tax the village for protection against the evil old troll living in the hills, and when the farmers protested and claimed the troll was their friend, they burnt and pillaged the heathen peasants along with their homes. But not all the people had been killed; many had been taken captive back to the baron’s castle, and it did not take Humharumph any convincing to try saving his friends.
He came to the fortress under cover of darkness, carrying a massive tree he had found in the forest. Ready to start battering the doors he unleashed a terrifying growl, dark and loud enough to make the walls of the castle tremble. Then he started battering the tree against the gates with such force that they shattered before him. The soldiers on guard barely had time to scream before his raging claws caught them, but he made sure not to hurt anyone who threw their weapons.
The baron looked down at the tumult from his balcony and screamed “What do you want, wicked old troll?!”
The troll looked back up with a burning in his eyes and said “I am here for my friends, who you enslaved, whose homes you burnt and whose children you would break beneath your heels.”
The baron had little choice but to release the villagers he had captured, and return them to their homes with enough tools and supplies to rebuild many times what he had destroyed. But Humharumph was never the same. For a time he would visit the village as he used to, but the memory of the horror never left his eyes. One spring he never came at all, and the friendly old troll became but a memory of the children he saved. But the village was never attacked again, because everyone knew; the village of Humharumph was protected.
TotW 258 – Rulership
power, stress, responsibilities, verdict, devotion
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Winner – Caillagh de Bodemloze
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:Rex Quondam...
How can I do it?
How can I not do it?
I am the King. The only man with the power to reach the verdict; the only man with the power to pass the sentence that has to be passed. I have responsibilities. All know my history; the story of how I came to my throne. I cannot refuse to do my duty now; that would be to turn my back on God and on all my people.
I have served my people as well as I could. And so have my Knights; the men who sit at my Table on feast-days risk their lives for me and for this realm all the rest of the year. The loyalty of every one of them is undeniable… almost. As is that of my wife.
They tell me there is no doubt. They tell me she – and he – have betrayed me utterly. They tell me there can be only one verdict, and only one sentence. Death. Death by burning. I have asked if some other death might be permitted, and they say no. No. The woman I love – the woman who has stood by my side with devotion through so much – must die a hideous, agonising death, and all must see it, for only punishment of such enormous horror and pain lays sufficient stress on the gravity of her crime.
There can be no forgiveness. No amount of remorse is enough. No repentance will satisfy them.
How can they tell me that killing a good woman is serving God? Burning alive a loyal, dutiful, loving wife? If only I could save her from this. My only hope – and my greatest fear – is that he will come to rescue her. Perhaps that’s why he fled. After all we have faced together, I know he is no coward. My closest friend. My best ally. Maybe he can still save my wife.
Still, I must oppose him. If I assist him in any way – if I leave my wife inadequately guarded – it will seem to the people that I think myself above the law, able to act however I wish with no penalty. So I must send my nephews to defend the honour they tell me I have already lost, to fight a battle I do not want to fight.
If he comes to try and rescue my wife, it will divide my Knights. It will divide my kingdom. It will shatter the peace we have built together, remove our protection of my people. But if he does not, my wife will die screaming in torment. How can I choose between the safety of my people and the very life of my love? I cannot abandon my people… I can’t bear to abandon my wife…
Entrant 2 – Shankbot de Bodemloze
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:"With great power comes greater responsibilities, we should do something to help!" argued Seban.
"With great power comes great stress," Alu grumbled in reply. "If we help now, they'll expect us to help whenever something bad happens. Every. Single. Time. Trust me, I've been in this position a lot longer than you."
"I know that, I do, and I respect your wisdom Elder Alu, but surely we can intervene - if only a little," Seban protested. "They show us such devotion, we should show them why it isn't misplace."
"If they were as devoted as you seem to think they would have faith in us regardless of our intervention. That is the way it has always been. That is the way it always will be." Alu paused, looking down at the scene below them. "Look, if they only believed in us when we did something then what is the point in their belief?"
Seban let out a resigned sigh, "I know, I know... it's just I've wanted to help people all my life, and now that I have the power to I feel more helpless than ever."
"Such is the burden we must bear," Alu reasoned. "You are young, you have years of this ahead of you - and eventually you will take my place as Elder when I pass on. When that time comes it will be up to you to give verdict on how we should act, but by then I hope will have learnt that inaction can be the best cause of action."
Entrant 3 – mad orc
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:Clad in his robes ,seated on an ancient throne ,the young boy sat watching .But he was no regular boy .He was a Ceasre .Which Ceasre you ask .Well its like this ,Julius Ceasre was medival history by then .The old glory was gone ,replaced by the thin silence of a court filled with plotters and murderers.Currently the boys eyes rolled side by side,for the regular eerie silence was gone .On one side was the ancient ,rusted world of the powerful demi gods ,on the other ,a quiet religion preached by a great prophet .On one side was a wailing women being hit by a martial temple priest of the ancient temple of Jupiter and on the other a wailing man seeking the help of the priests of the golden cross and the virgin mother to rescue his wife from certain death .For the only crime that she commited was to show devotion to the man on the cross .She was right .On the other hand ,the laws of the Armenians were not applicable here .Rome’s purity depended on its religion however ancient and intolerable it had grown to be .Currently the boy boy wondered which side he should take .The stress of power was too much for him .He didn’t want the responsibilities .”You will soon grow sick ruling,you have lost your childhood “were the last words of the regent as he died on the noose .How foolish he had been ,thought the boy ,to believe the courtiers who had said that the regent was the one who had killed his father .But then he had seen the regent meeting with some strange men clad in black armour .Whom to believe and whom to not,wondered the boy as the people stood in silence waiting for his verdict .Say yes and he would be responsible for the gruesome murder of this women who would curse him to burn with Saturn .Say no and he would make enemies with half the people of his court and project himself as a weak emotional boy rather than an emperor to the other half .The shadows and lights had got mixed together .Was this,he wondered a beginning of a new order .Was Jesus right .Was the women pious .Should he say no to the killing .No he should not be thinking this .Jupiter was right .The temple priest should be allowed to put her up on a noose and hang her .So he guessed he should say yes .Or should he?The weight of royalty was hard .But suddenly a strange power came in him .It surged through his veins and heart alike .Now his decision was crystal clear in his mind .With a posture of confidence and authority the boy got up .He stopped the priest and the Christians alike .Then he shouted his decision .And all questions were answered ,the shadows had disappeared in the light ,the boy said just one word “NO” .
And that’s how the light of the cross reached Rome .
Entrant 4 – Darkan
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:Kingship
He thought he had heard footsteps approaching. Slow, precise pacing around him, perhaps, but with every slight movement of his head, the almost imperceptible sound would disappear.
- Is there someone there, he whined, the words choking him.
There was no answer, just that distant, faint whisper of sound, around him, everywhere. He couldn’t move, as if bindings held him in place. He couldn’t see, as if a heavy, tarred blindfold had been cast upon his eyes. He found he could hardly breathe, as if serrated blades went up and down his throat, inching their way ever closer to his lungs. I am indeed lost, forsaken, he thought.
- Tell me what you seek, a voice broke the silence. Tell me what you seek and I will tell you what awaits, the voice continued.
It was an eerie voice. Was this a man or woman? Or was this neither? Was it a maiden’s song he had heard or the guttural threats of the lowest of the lows? Was it just an echo in his mind, like the footsteps? It seemed to surround him, to go through him. It inched closer and closer, as if he could feel the person’s breathing on his face but at the same time it sounded far away, muffled, somehow at the other end of a tunnel. Again he tried to move his head, focusing on the source, without success.
- Who are you, he said, gasping for air as he spoke. Are you the one who brought me here?
- No. You came to me, the voice replied, of your own volition.
My own volition, he thought. No, no. I don’t want to be here, I don’t even know where here is, his thoughts came pouring.
- That cannot be, he spoke, not without effort.
- And yet it is. You have come before me for judgement.
- Judgement? You jest. I am the king, not some petty thief, he replied angrily, overcoming the pain of his speaking, stressing the word king.
- Indeed. You are, but you are also not. You, who want to command the devotion of others, to hold responsibility, you, who want to hold power over others, must first be powerless. You are here to receive the divine right to the throne...or to be held it, the voice said.
- And who are you to deny me my birthright, he asked, rage growing inside him, fear as well.
- I am, we all are, it matters not who, the voice...or voices, spoke. I am also not, for we are not, it...they, continued. It is only you who are important, but only if you wish to be, and if you think you are, then you are not. Three questions you are to ask, or answer, and only then you shall receive a verdict. Only then you shall receive the right to rule, or be held it.
- What? Stop talking in riddl...
- Silence! It starts, the voice echoed throughout.
Entrant 5 – SanyuXV
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:"Do you remember the price of the power you wield?" questioned a hooded man as he approached the hushed room.
A silhouette of a man advanced ever closer towards the throne by which the king calls home. The throne room was lit with but a few torches, with dim flickers here and there with no distinguishable pattern. The torches continued to burn, the stars continued to shine, and the hooded man continued to advanced but all of man kind were frozen in time.
"Your devotion as of late has been pitiful" again the hooded man spoke, knowing fully well that it would fall on deaf ears. With long strides he continued his path, walking past guard, after guard, after guard. The hooded figure's stride was long, his shoulders broad, and his stature proud yet no matter the proximity to light, his face was shrouded.
As he approached the throne, the hooded figure waved his hand in a slow motion, undoing the mysterious binding he had set on the world.
"Another king, and yet again another verdict. Have you forgotten me so soon King Leon?" The shrouded figure declared. His voice echoed back and forth between the walls of the somber throne room.
"It cannot be, this must be a trick of the mind, or perhaps a deep slumber, I stress that it simply cannot be!" the king shifted in his royal seat as he laid eyes on the mysterious figure. "GUARDS, GUARDS ARREST THIS MAN AT ONCE" yet no reply came forth, only that of his echo. The king slumped low in his seat, his brows buried deep, and his eyes retreating back into the midst of his face.
"I find it ironic don't you think? That a king of all people would forget his responsibilities." The hooded figure produced a parchment imprinted with a hand print in the distinct scarlet shade of blood from his clothing, and with a snap of his fingers the room was lit with a ghastly blue flame.
"A contract is a contract, and I have come to claim my dues."
Entrant 6 – Mhaedros
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:I arrived. After an eternal journey lasting but a few heartbeats I was finally there. I must admit I was stressed; there were few things I wanted less than to be at that place, at that time, after all that happened. As I went to knock on the front door, I realised it was already open. Not a burglar, surely nobody would dare? My suspicions were both calmed and worsened when I saw the old man leering evilly at me. I took a deep breath and forced myself to smile, before taking the hand of the man I used to know.
“Share a glass with me, old friend.”, was the first thing he said to me.
“Of course. Have you any servants or..?”, the question was left unanswered as he simply prepared the drinks himself. Whether he had lost his fortune or his pride I do not know, but either way I did not grieve for him.
We drank in silence, me wishing I was somewhere else, he greedily, as the fool he always was. I was considering asking him why he had invited me, but before I had a chance he brought it up himself.
“Great misfortune has befallen my house”, he spoke slowly, clearly fumbling for words. This was not the first drink of today I mused silently. “As you know, my family enjoyed great power once, was entrusted with several responsibilities, but since the new age he have been given nought but dust and disregard!”, by this point he was almost shouting, and a froth was building around his mouth. He seemed so much older than me, despite everything. For a while he did not speak.
“When I became the head of this cursed house, I was young and foolish”, ‘was’, I almost laughed. “In order to restore my family’s mud-dragged name I did many things I now regret. I stole and I cheated and I broke all the rules of nobility for a chance at redemption for my name. But no matter how hard I fought, how well I spoke, how ambitiously I sought betterment, the verdict was always in favour of someone else, someone with a better name! I had enough, old friend, and frankly not a moment too soon.”
I was beginning to feel very uneasy in his company now. The dark room was somehow darker than before, the shadows longer and more menacing.
“I sought a greater power than what is to be found in your petty palaces and royal games. My servants do not spite me for my old name, but have fear for their master, as I have devotion for mine!”
“Why did you call me here?!”, my head was beginning to spin, and with terror I realised I could no longer feel my legs. In the corner of my eye I could sense shadows moving.
“We have always room for another pair of hands, should you desire to stay.”
TotW 259 – Banquet
journey, host, command, servant, mystery
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Winner – Caillagh de Bodemloze
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:Banquets are supposed to be happy occasions. Wedding banquets, even more so. This one, however, was not.
The great hall was draped with bright banners and adorned with tall stands of flowers, while the sun streamed in through the stained glass windows, lighting the tables and the guests with equally radiant patches of colour. The tables were laden with all manner of food, as you would expect. Great platters of roast meat whose scent wafted across the room and caused more than one guest to apologise for the unseemly rumble from his innards; shining piles of fruit – apples, pears, even exotic oranges and pineapples, grown in the constantly-heated greenhouse; freshly-baked bread; vegetables so beautiful and so appetising they would have tempted the sternest carnivore; and the centrepiece – an enormous wedding cake, shaped like the house itself, and iced to make the resemblance perfect.
Everything had begun well. The guests – even those whose journeys had been the longest and most fraught with danger – had arrived safely and in good time. The cooks had toiled for days to produce the grandest meal any of them had ever seen. The servants had swept, and polished, and decorated. The gardeners had trimmed lawns, pruned bushes and weeded flower-beds. The wedding itself had proceeded without the smallest hitch, and everyone had returned to the house, laughing and talking, eager to see – and eat – the feast they were assured awaited them. They had dispersed to their rooms, to dispose of their coats and cloaks, and repair any small deficiencies of their appearance, and then they had made their way to the great hall.
Except that once the guests were all assembled, it became apparent that not everyone had arrived in the great hall. The bride was missing.
The groom, who had left her pinning a recalcitrant curl of hair into the precise shape she wanted, had been one of the earliest to reach the great hall. He had not begun to worry until almost everyone else had arrived. He thought his new wife intended to make a grand entrance in front of all the assembled guests, so it was not until all but three of the seats were filled that he commanded a servant to go and find her. As the host, he would be expected not to keep his guests waiting too long for their food, but it would be improper to begin a wedding banquet without the bride.
Moments later – moments that felt like hours to the groom – the servant returned. The bride – or rather, the bride’s murdered body – had been found. One mystery had been solved only to reveal another. Who among those present could have done such a thing?
Entrant 2 – M.A.E
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:It was late in the night when my little child cried for her medicines,I was there in the dark side of the semi-destroyed mansion.hope was not an answer , smile is not an option, my heart was only overlooking her smile when her older sister asked me "she is suffering,I will stay with her and you must search for help".How could I found help at such a period ?,I did not know where to go and where to get that few coins.with the sunrise's the red light of sun which marks the standing *banquet* of the city of baghdad , I had no choice but to go around the building to steal few coins , I found a servant whom was sleeping, but an old man suddenly was insight. he shouted "today is a Mystery where to solve the puzzle and to reshape it . My dear I see you a honest man .? What's your profession ?..i replied "I am in Command of the police officer post in the market . He asked "if you killed the man laying sleep here isn't it against your oath ? ... "and what oath let my child die ?! I ransom his for her life ? .. The old-man replied "my dear ,come to the market post at the midday your problem shall be solved if god will it ." . I returned home and founded my child nearly slept , I carried her and told myself "we shall find a solution" .. When we went to the post in the market I founded that the man was the *Banquet* chief he ordered his *servant* to take my child to the hospital . How strange was that ...Indeed in the evil we cure the light shines brighter for our soul ,he was a good man he offered me a journey to the near geysers to cure the illness of my child. I refused with kindness ,at the same moment the servant came and said that "my child was died",Cry havoc! , no tears was able to help , I abandoned my seat with my friends at noon, I left our old mansion , but nothing will ever find the cure , I remembers her smile when she wake up at morning,and sleep down at night ,Tell my story my friend i only a host of poor,illness,hunger .WHY? said the old man, I replied "everyday we will loss a child, if we did stop caring for them, how bad was I ?. ".. I answered myself " I must have got a doctor".
Entrant 3 – Darkan
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:The Banquet
The antechamber was bustling with people, lords of the realm, envoys from the Empire, come to seal the peace, collect tithes and taxes, as well as the most important merchants in the capital. They were all excited, all perfectly aware that the long period of strife and uncertainty had ended.
As they entered the main hall, they came upon the long tables that awaited them, each set with expensive linens, upon which flagons of ember red and deep, dark crimson wines stood, ready to be emptied and refilled. A host of hors d’oeuvres were set on all tables, smoked and devilled eggs, shellfish and sturgeon eggs, an innumerable variety of fruit and nuts and, as the guests started taking their seats, servants appeared, pouring cup after cup of the delicious wines.
This great assembly was a mystery to none that were present. The young king had organised it to ease the burdens of the lords and to restore confidence to the Empire that had supported his claim to the throne. Long had the kingdom suffered as the civil war had raged for almost a decade. The pretender had been supported by many lords of the realm, and initially was thought to prevail, yet the new king had taken refuge in the neighbouring Empire. There, he had gained the trust and admiration of the Emperor and had won him to his cause, albeit promising much in the way of economic repayment and exclusive rights to the income from various exploits.
Some lords wanted to retain their privileges, others wanted to get back old ones that their families had lost, while the Imperial envoys wanted only to protect the Emperor’s interests. More than a hundred men were seated round the tables and all wanted something from the king, but neither truly knew what the king wanted from them, if anything.
- Friends, noble allies, the king spoke, standing up from his seat. Most of you have journeyed from far away to be here and I want to thank you for it. The war is ended, he continued...
- Hear, hear, a multitude of voices interrupted him.
- Peace is now here, the king continued, yet I urge you to think about it not. Feast, eat, drink and rejoice. Tomorrow we shall see what is to be done. To the kingdom, to all of you, the king toasted.
- To the king, a hundred voices roared.
As the entire hall went back to talking and drinking, the king rose from his throne and walked towards the door behind his throne. A man held it open for him and as he exited, the king but whispered “Give the command!”
Minutes later, as new alliances were forged and old friendships rekindled, as lucrative deals and profitable exploits were being discussed, nobody noticed the barred doors, nobody noticed the creeping smoke, nobody noticed the slithering flames caressing the tapestries, indeed, nobody noticed anything...until it was too late.
Entrant 4 – Caligula the Mad
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:The incessant beeping had died down and all was still, except for Elon’s heart which must have been beating loud enough for the entire world to hear it. He was strapped into his seat with no escape and despite knowing that his entire life had led up to this moment, Elon was petrified. He carried with him the hopes and dreams of an entire planet, fate had given him this command and he dare not second guess himself now. He had no free will anymore, he was merely the servant ushering in the days of tomorrow.
Elon’s mediation was broken by a thrumming which charged through his body like wildfire. The countdown had begun, the realisation that humanity would be doomed if he failed crashed down upon Elon. He gasped and suffocated under the pressure, the weight of billions of mothers and fathers; sons and daughters; who would die if he failed at his task. He felt their pitiful last gasps wrack his breast, strangling him and starving him of air. That would be the price of his failure. He was the host of humanity, they clung to him and fed off his body, demanding more and more.
The countdown blared its final note, and Elon’s world rumbled and shook with the force of a thousand volcanos. It felt as though he would be torn apart by the sheer power acting upon his body as the Final Voyager thrust off and fought gravity tooth and nail to abandon this forsaken planet and its dying race. Elon glanced out of his cockpit window as he surged through the atmosphere, the pale blue dot that he and so many billions of others called their home would soon pass out of sight. Elon would uncover the mystery of the void and save his people, this was his sole purpose. With this realisation, he embarked upon his journey with resolve flooding through his veins. His people would be saved.
TotW 260 – Souls
confederation, inhaled, treaty, guild, memory
The keywords for this competition were inspired by Shankbot de Bodemloze's Of Souls, the winner of Creative Writing of the Year 2016
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
The image is taken from Caillagh de Bodemloze's A Long Way From Home, the winner of AAR of the Year 2016
Winner – Mhaedros
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:Vice Pheasant Viceroy MacPlumb was nervously pacing outside the Head Eagle’s office. He was the bringer of bad news, and being in lower middle management, he knew the phrase “don’t shoot the messenger” would mean very little to the receiver of said message.
A small bell tinkled outside the door, and a bored looking secretary sighed as she stood up to open the door and let Viceroy in. The office was tall and menacing, with trophies of old hunts and raids lined along the walls. The walk from the door to the desk itself was impossibly long, Viceroy thought, as the seconds ticked away. Behind the massive oak desk was a man much too small for everything around him.
“Liceroy McPlopp?”, he enquired in a nasal and annoying voice.
“Viceroy MacPlumb sir, yessir”, the shaking Vice Pheasant corrected. “I’m your Vice Pheasant sir, you’ve known me for years.”
“Protocol must be kept!”, the little man snapped, and turned a page in the book the size of Viceroy’s home. “You’ve got news?”
“Yes sir. Sir..there is news of a new guild plaguing the city. A trader’s guild.”
“WHAT?! But the Left,- Right,- and Centercompany has monopoly on trade! A royal decree! How come this rabble hasn’t been put to the sword?”
“A-a-apparently some lawyer found a loophole that means they are allowed to function within the law as long as they call themselves a merchant confederation, rather than company! The king has allowed them to trade within the city walls as long as none of them ever refer to themselves as a company.”
Viceroy quickly ducked as the Head Eagle threw a knife in his general direction. The little man was breathing unevenly and shaking with rage. “Never in living memory have we been so unfairly treated!”.
“Sir! Inhale, exhale, inhale..”, the Vice Pheasant dodged a stray bullet and quickly shouted. “Sir! I believe I’ve found a solution!”.
The smaller man slowly lowered the throwing axe he had been aiming, and asked “Well? What is it?!”.
“We tell them we want to trade-PLEASE LISTEN! We ask to sign a treaty with them. An agreement so long and confusing, with such small handwriting, they’ll never read through the whole thing. We’ll get the Head of Ornithological Departments and Other Things Related to Creatures That Dwell in the Air as Well as Snakes and Other Reptiles Because Birdlegs are Kind of Creepy, Like Snakes to sign it seven times, randomly throughout the document, and we’ll make it look really real by driving a hard bargain, to make them think they’ve won it in a fair fight. And somewhere along the hundreds of pages of drivel, we’ll refer to them as a company rather than a confederation. They’ll sign, thinking they’re making the deal of a century, and we’ll see them all hanged.”
“By God..you’re only lower middle management? I’ll make sure you’re getting promoted to central middle management by the end of this fiscal year, or my name isn’t Patronominous Trout!”
Entrant 2 – Caligula
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:The Fate of Those Who Plot
(Traditional Folk Tale – circa the 17th year of the Great and Glorious Peace)
The rain thundered down from the heavens in torrents, flowing from the pristine marble of the great city to the muck filled gutters of the lower city, driving all honest folk inside. The rain did not cleanse however, it brought the scum of the underworld out of the sewers and onto the streets where they stalked the alleys and temple squares alike, searching for prey.
Faint murmurs emanated from the tavern, belonging to men who believed themselves to be rich and powerful. The shadowy figure crouched across the street from the inn knew better, the voices merely belonged to men who did not know that they were already dead. They planned to betray their sovereign emperor, and thought to create a confederation with the Guild of Merchants. The man did not hate these traitors, but he had an assignment and he would see each and every one of them dead before the night was out. Treason could not go unpunished, he was the tool of his emperor’s will.
With a groan the oak doors of the tavern opened and the fools furtively skittered out, akin to the rats underfoot. A beastly pig of a man dawdled out after them and sniffed loudly in the damp chill.“This blasted weather, why the hell did we decide to meet here? Where are my damned servants?” His fellow conspirators paid him no mind, anxious at the prospect of wandering these streets at night and eager to return to their mansions. The sack of suet was the first to die, his blood spilt onto the cobblestones from the rent in his oversized belly as he struggled in vain against deaths embrace. The deaths of all of these traitors would be ingrained in the memory of all those who sought to take power for themselves. Each man’s life was extracted from him in ways more terrible and merciless than the previous, until only one was left slinking through the city.
The assassin stalked his prey across the Great Market, towards the prey’s palace that dangerously straddled the divide between the Merchant’s District and the Noble’s Quarters, the vermin thought too highly of itself. The assassin observed his quarry halt some metres away. Realisation dawned upon the conspirator as he froze facing the legendary assassin of Riege. “W-w-wait, I c-ca-can explain! I was serving – that’s it, I was serving my emperor! I was told to enter a treaty with t-those scum back there! I swear, I did it out of loyalty! Out of loyalty I tell you.” The last act the man ever did out of loyalty was to inhale the stink of his blood as he collapsed to the ground.
The next morning the bodies were found slumped in alleyways, stripped of their wealth and clothes. The next morning the citizens of the Empire continued to thank the Emperor for his peaceful and prosperous rule.
Entrant 3 – Lord Ashenwyte
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:I am assaulted by a word as I walk down the rubbish strewn street, a word that hammers into my skull screaming to be let free.
Memory.
I remember the days when this city was gilded gem of the west. I remember when I walked the cobbles of this very street and inhaled air infused with the smells of roasted meat, of animal spoor and exotic incense, and the scents of humanity in all it’s glory.
I inhaled the scents of life.
I remember when the lords of this land ruled supreme, and poets and playwrights flocked to this city and formed guild after guild to pay homage to their great kings. Lions they were hailed as, valiant spirit-kin to the majestic tawny beasts that roam the southern plains.
But lions die, and so do men.
The last king of this great and noble city was no lion, more an effete sop consigned to his territory by treaty and whim of the southern lords alike. Almost immediately after his death those godless southern bastards, the Confedaration of Al-Hassor, swept in and claimed this once noble and as their own. Even now they call it the crown jewel of Al-hassor, and I suppose it fits. After all, a jewel of coloured glass suits a crown of brass, does it not?