SonOfLilith
First Post
I don't think I will be able to make the deadline, literaly dozens of projects fell into my lap today and I have to put all of attention to them right now. I might be able to finish, but I don't know, but I'm trying.
CERAMIC D.M. Final Judgements In- New Champion!
- Thread starter alsih2o
- Start date
Speaker
First Post
Ugh.
I just came back from surgery (nothing serious, just getting a tooth removed and reciving in return a gaping hole in my mouth), which means I am now under a diet of antibiotics and painkillers.
Just wanted to inform all of you in advance in case I end up posting something I will regret, or I fall asleep with my hands on the keyboard!
Cheers.
I just came back from surgery (nothing serious, just getting a tooth removed and reciving in return a gaping hole in my mouth), which means I am now under a diet of antibiotics and painkillers.
Just wanted to inform all of you in advance in case I end up posting something I will regret, or I fall asleep with my hands on the keyboard!
Cheers.
Drawmack
First Post
Round I Snitch vs. Drawmack
Set’s Avenger
I do not know if it was the searing heat on my face of the loud crackling of the roof timbers but I woke just in time to run from the building as it went up in flames. Looking back on the building I saw flames stretching into the sky obscuring the view of everything else and heard the screams of my brethren trapped inside. (pic II) Taking a quick head count I knew that Aldreth was not among the survivors. Every ounce of strength drained from my body and into the sands like water spilling from a broken cup. My knees buckled and I fell into a ball of quivering jelly as the tears erupted from my eyes. Time lost all meaning as I lay there on the sand but when the tears stopped my resolve started. I would find the people who did this and I would bring them to justice.
The next day I approached Serdalion and requested a private counsel with her. Turning so that her long blonde hair swirled like a dervishes dress she took one look at my face and said, “It is a sin to have eyes so beautiful be tainted with a hatred so strong. Anything I can do to restore the exuberance I knew from you yesterday will be my pleasure to do. As you know we are without a building right now so secluded outdoors will have to do.” Then she began to walk away slowly, gently grasping my hand to take me along.
“Aldreth was my confidant, I have known him longer then memory serves me. Our lives have always been intertwined and we always wished to keep them that way.” I stated with my emotions rising almost pulling me into a rage.
“Yes my child, the two of you were inseparable. I remember the day you came to the commune. The two of you hand in hand with a story of love persecuted. I remember a tear in my eye as I heard your story. Now all of your dreams have been shattered and you feel that someone must pay for this.” She spoke the words with a gentle and knowing tone as if she had once been in the place where I stood now.
“Yes, faith mother that is exactly how I feel. Only I have no idea who could have done this. We always kept to ourselves and bothered no one. What kind of a hate filled monster attacks the defenseless under the cover of night? I do not even know where to start looking for the culprits, let alone how to make them pay.” Again my emotions flared and I could feel the heat of anger in my face which surly was turning my fair skin ruddy with the rush of blood.
“In New Belston you will find an oracle. She has a devoted following and will be easy. Just go into town and ask where you might find The Coven of the Poisoned Lance. They will help you find the answers you seek. No go before the flames of hatred burn to weak to push you forward. Those flames will never go out, they must either be used to hunt those who deserve it or they will slowly consume you from the inside out.” After speaking this she kissed me on the forehead and walked away.
Looking at the rising sun I started on my trek. New Belston was only about twenty miles to the east. The trip along the well traveled trade routes should be reasonable safe and I should make town by nightfall if I walked briskly. Grabbing a full water skin I headed for town, alone. On the trek to town I commune with Set, praying for the power to overcome those that would destroy his temple and asking for his aid in completing this mission. As I prayed I could feel power being poured into by body. Almost as if a piece of set himself were beginning to run through my veins. I knew that my prayers were being answered but that I was far from completing this task. As the sun was beginning to set I saw the walls of New Belston rise up from the desert.
At the gate I was asked my business in town. “I come seeking guidance from The Coven of the Poisoned Lance.” With that reply the gates opened and I was directed to a building near the center of town. I was also told that they would not see me anymore today so I should probably get a room at The Maimed Golem which was close the coven’s temple. Upon seeing the inn I instantly knew where it had gotten its name; the inn was inside the husk of a gargantuan wood golem. You entered through the mouth, the inn was in the chest and the rooms filled the rest of the body. Getting there late yielded me the last available room, in one of the feet. Before retiring I grabbed a bite to eat and a couple pints of ale. It took me nearly a half an hour to walk to my room. Though I was glad in the morning when the first lights of the morning woke me.
As any other morning I prayed to set. However this morning the power I had felt as I prayed yesterday returned and redoubled. I climbed from the window instead of navigating the busy inn hallways. This placed me right by the coven’s temple. I approached and asked for a counsel with the oracle. When questioned about my purpose I simply replied, “Set has guided me here for answers.” Upon hearing this I was guided to a chamber in the center of the building.
Sitting in front of me were three very lovely human women, tall and dark with flaxen hair. While their eyes showed the wisdom of ages their bodies looked like they were still in their prime. Their shapely bodies accented beautifully by the flowing orange dresses. They looked at me and I realized they did not look similar, but rather exactly the same.
“We have been expecting you. We saw the smoke rising from Set’s shrine and knew that he would send an avenger on his behalf.” They all spoke in unison, their voices making the most melodious chord.
“I wish to avenge the wrong on my god and the death of my beloved.” I spoke in an icy tone.
“Your voice rings with hatred strong enough to burn a city. We will see what we can see”, they spoke flatly as they closed their eyes.
After a short time a light flashed in the hand of the one in the center and a white dove appeared in her hand. The three stood up and implored me to follow them. The walked outside with the one holding the dove calmly by her side. (pic IV)
“The bird will fly slowly and circle allowing you to follow it. This bird will lead you to those you seek. Move swiftly, before your hatred burns you out.” The spoke briskly and then walked away.
The bird was flying northwest leading me into the mountains behind the place where the shrine stood two days ago. I followed the bird always with my eyes on the sky. I know that Set was protecting me and I did not see even one dangerous animal on the entire journey. On the second day I found myself near a stream where I filled my water skin. Looking into the water I noticed a two headed baby alligator. I scooped it up into my hand for a closer look. (pic I) The bird was circling in a steady place now and I knew that the time of reckoning was close.
I knelt down and poured every ounce of hatred that I had into a prayer to Set for the power to destroy those who committed the insurrection. My hands began to get hot and I knew that I would have the power I needed. I then ran to the spot where the bird was circling.
There I saw three apparently deranged men. They were wearing nothing but green skirts with swords on their backs. One of them with horns on his forehead was squatting on a rock looking in my direction and when he saw me he let out a loud squealing hiss. (pic III) Then he lunged for me.
I felt the burning in my hands again and I reach out and touched him as he landed. A single shriek of pain escaped him as he fell to the ground unconscious. “By the name of Set I rebuke ye and come to take his vengeance.” I screamed as the other two rushed in.
I feel a burning in my ribs as a sword slashes at me. While I dodge the one I saw coming. Then flames erupt from both of my hands burning the two still standing.
The one on my left hurls his sword at me as he looses his footing. I stumbled dodging it and the other one took the moment to leap on me and began stabbing me with a dagger. “In the name of set I smite you” and he shattered into a hundred pieces. The unarmed one came rushing back in with a rock in hand. Without time to react the rock collided with my back causing great pain. As I reeled to the ground I yelled, “Inflict” and blood gushed from his chest as he fell to the ground lifeless. I grabbed a dagger from the ground and placed it firmly into the chest of the unconscious one. Then I sat to heal myself and realized how close to death I was.
In a shower of light Set appeared to me. “You are mine avenger. I have sought long and hard for someone like you to right the wrongs done me on this world. Go forth and stop all who stand against me. Purge the world of those who would do me harm or disgrace my name. Be the bastion of my faith in a world of folly.” The image then disappeared and I slept for days. When I woke I was completely healed and knew that my life had new meaning and new purpose. I was the world’s Avenger of Set.
Set’s Avenger
I do not know if it was the searing heat on my face of the loud crackling of the roof timbers but I woke just in time to run from the building as it went up in flames. Looking back on the building I saw flames stretching into the sky obscuring the view of everything else and heard the screams of my brethren trapped inside. (pic II) Taking a quick head count I knew that Aldreth was not among the survivors. Every ounce of strength drained from my body and into the sands like water spilling from a broken cup. My knees buckled and I fell into a ball of quivering jelly as the tears erupted from my eyes. Time lost all meaning as I lay there on the sand but when the tears stopped my resolve started. I would find the people who did this and I would bring them to justice.
The next day I approached Serdalion and requested a private counsel with her. Turning so that her long blonde hair swirled like a dervishes dress she took one look at my face and said, “It is a sin to have eyes so beautiful be tainted with a hatred so strong. Anything I can do to restore the exuberance I knew from you yesterday will be my pleasure to do. As you know we are without a building right now so secluded outdoors will have to do.” Then she began to walk away slowly, gently grasping my hand to take me along.
“Aldreth was my confidant, I have known him longer then memory serves me. Our lives have always been intertwined and we always wished to keep them that way.” I stated with my emotions rising almost pulling me into a rage.
“Yes my child, the two of you were inseparable. I remember the day you came to the commune. The two of you hand in hand with a story of love persecuted. I remember a tear in my eye as I heard your story. Now all of your dreams have been shattered and you feel that someone must pay for this.” She spoke the words with a gentle and knowing tone as if she had once been in the place where I stood now.
“Yes, faith mother that is exactly how I feel. Only I have no idea who could have done this. We always kept to ourselves and bothered no one. What kind of a hate filled monster attacks the defenseless under the cover of night? I do not even know where to start looking for the culprits, let alone how to make them pay.” Again my emotions flared and I could feel the heat of anger in my face which surly was turning my fair skin ruddy with the rush of blood.
“In New Belston you will find an oracle. She has a devoted following and will be easy. Just go into town and ask where you might find The Coven of the Poisoned Lance. They will help you find the answers you seek. No go before the flames of hatred burn to weak to push you forward. Those flames will never go out, they must either be used to hunt those who deserve it or they will slowly consume you from the inside out.” After speaking this she kissed me on the forehead and walked away.
Looking at the rising sun I started on my trek. New Belston was only about twenty miles to the east. The trip along the well traveled trade routes should be reasonable safe and I should make town by nightfall if I walked briskly. Grabbing a full water skin I headed for town, alone. On the trek to town I commune with Set, praying for the power to overcome those that would destroy his temple and asking for his aid in completing this mission. As I prayed I could feel power being poured into by body. Almost as if a piece of set himself were beginning to run through my veins. I knew that my prayers were being answered but that I was far from completing this task. As the sun was beginning to set I saw the walls of New Belston rise up from the desert.
At the gate I was asked my business in town. “I come seeking guidance from The Coven of the Poisoned Lance.” With that reply the gates opened and I was directed to a building near the center of town. I was also told that they would not see me anymore today so I should probably get a room at The Maimed Golem which was close the coven’s temple. Upon seeing the inn I instantly knew where it had gotten its name; the inn was inside the husk of a gargantuan wood golem. You entered through the mouth, the inn was in the chest and the rooms filled the rest of the body. Getting there late yielded me the last available room, in one of the feet. Before retiring I grabbed a bite to eat and a couple pints of ale. It took me nearly a half an hour to walk to my room. Though I was glad in the morning when the first lights of the morning woke me.
As any other morning I prayed to set. However this morning the power I had felt as I prayed yesterday returned and redoubled. I climbed from the window instead of navigating the busy inn hallways. This placed me right by the coven’s temple. I approached and asked for a counsel with the oracle. When questioned about my purpose I simply replied, “Set has guided me here for answers.” Upon hearing this I was guided to a chamber in the center of the building.
Sitting in front of me were three very lovely human women, tall and dark with flaxen hair. While their eyes showed the wisdom of ages their bodies looked like they were still in their prime. Their shapely bodies accented beautifully by the flowing orange dresses. They looked at me and I realized they did not look similar, but rather exactly the same.
“We have been expecting you. We saw the smoke rising from Set’s shrine and knew that he would send an avenger on his behalf.” They all spoke in unison, their voices making the most melodious chord.
“I wish to avenge the wrong on my god and the death of my beloved.” I spoke in an icy tone.
“Your voice rings with hatred strong enough to burn a city. We will see what we can see”, they spoke flatly as they closed their eyes.
After a short time a light flashed in the hand of the one in the center and a white dove appeared in her hand. The three stood up and implored me to follow them. The walked outside with the one holding the dove calmly by her side. (pic IV)
“The bird will fly slowly and circle allowing you to follow it. This bird will lead you to those you seek. Move swiftly, before your hatred burns you out.” The spoke briskly and then walked away.
The bird was flying northwest leading me into the mountains behind the place where the shrine stood two days ago. I followed the bird always with my eyes on the sky. I know that Set was protecting me and I did not see even one dangerous animal on the entire journey. On the second day I found myself near a stream where I filled my water skin. Looking into the water I noticed a two headed baby alligator. I scooped it up into my hand for a closer look. (pic I) The bird was circling in a steady place now and I knew that the time of reckoning was close.
I knelt down and poured every ounce of hatred that I had into a prayer to Set for the power to destroy those who committed the insurrection. My hands began to get hot and I knew that I would have the power I needed. I then ran to the spot where the bird was circling.
There I saw three apparently deranged men. They were wearing nothing but green skirts with swords on their backs. One of them with horns on his forehead was squatting on a rock looking in my direction and when he saw me he let out a loud squealing hiss. (pic III) Then he lunged for me.
I felt the burning in my hands again and I reach out and touched him as he landed. A single shriek of pain escaped him as he fell to the ground unconscious. “By the name of Set I rebuke ye and come to take his vengeance.” I screamed as the other two rushed in.
I feel a burning in my ribs as a sword slashes at me. While I dodge the one I saw coming. Then flames erupt from both of my hands burning the two still standing.
The one on my left hurls his sword at me as he looses his footing. I stumbled dodging it and the other one took the moment to leap on me and began stabbing me with a dagger. “In the name of set I smite you” and he shattered into a hundred pieces. The unarmed one came rushing back in with a rock in hand. Without time to react the rock collided with my back causing great pain. As I reeled to the ground I yelled, “Inflict” and blood gushed from his chest as he fell to the ground lifeless. I grabbed a dagger from the ground and placed it firmly into the chest of the unconscious one. Then I sat to heal myself and realized how close to death I was.
In a shower of light Set appeared to me. “You are mine avenger. I have sought long and hard for someone like you to right the wrongs done me on this world. Go forth and stop all who stand against me. Purge the world of those who would do me harm or disgrace my name. Be the bastion of my faith in a world of folly.” The image then disappeared and I slept for days. When I woke I was completely healed and knew that my life had new meaning and new purpose. I was the world’s Avenger of Set.
Barendd Nobeard
Explorer
Barendd Nobeard vs. son of lilith
The rain had finally let up. The sky was beautiful but the mud was hell. No matter, the slaves still had to work the fields; grapes must be picked when they are ready, not when it is convenient. The Duke smiled as he thought of the crop. Yes, technically, the land belonged to the church, but since he supplied the slaves, he stood to gain the most profit.
"My liege," bowed Father Kinkaid as the Duke entered the church. "It is an honor to receive you."
The Duke got right to business. "How are preparations for the festival going?"
"Very well, my lord," answered the cleric. "While the slaves pick this year's crop, we shall be feasting on the best vintage from ten years past."
"Excellent!" exclaimed the Duke. Without another word, he left. Father Kinkaid judged the Duke's mood to be foul. He hoped the festival went smoothly, for he enjoyed his duties as spiritual leader; he would hate to be sent to the—no! better not even to think of that!
The Duke rode away from the church, through the vineyard. Stopping at the bottom of the hill, he turned for one last look at the unplucked vines, remember how they had looked just a few short months before (photo 3).. In a few days, they would be bare of grapes, and the Duke expected this to be his finest plucking ever.
The Duke's thoughts turned to his siblings. They were all toeing the line, and would pose no threat to him. Tonight, they would drink the family vintage and toast his health. The Duke chuckled, remembering all of their weaknesses, and how he had exploited them. Playing them against one another had been most fun; he almost wished he could do it again. Oh well, he sighed to himself, perhaps that one slave he had been dreaming about would keep his mind occupied during the festival….
The church bell sounded the morning hour.
The slaves hurried from the hovels, but there was no excitement in their rapid pace. Picking grapes was hard work and they did not enjoy it. Doubly worse, they were expected to pick faster than was humanly possible, for each year a new record crop must be plucked. To do otherwise was to invite disaster, probably directly from the Duke's hand.
"Hey, why all the rushing?" asked a slave named Gregory. "Grape time," mumbled an old-timer who move away quickly. Gregory turned to his brothers and sisters, "Grapes? I wonder what that's about?" "You'll learn soon enough," answered another slave. "It's my fourth year for grape time. Pick fast or you'll be whipped. And don't eat any! You'll lose a finger for each one you eat!" The slaves glances around furtively, "My name's John," he whispered quietly to Gregory before moving away in the crowd.
Gregory could not tell if this slave was serious. If he had learned one thing since they had been captured, it was that people rarely told the truth or helped one another in this hellhole. Nonetheless, he thought it prudent to warn his siblings, so he relayed what he had learned.
"Gee, Gregory," said his youngest brother Robert, "we'd better pick fast then."
"And don't eat any," admonished middle sister Janice, already stressing rules and propriety.
"I may not have to pick any grapes," said the eldest sister, Marsha. "I think the Duke likes me."
No one had any response to that, expect to glare at her with anger—and a little envy. They continued on their way to the vineyard, slogging through the mud.
After a few hours picking grapes, some slaves actually believed that death would be a welcome reprieve. They were not to be so lucky. Gregory's middle brother, Pietr, did note with some satisfaction that eldest sister was working her finger to the bone, just like the rest of them. He nudged his brothers, tilting his head toward her, and giving a silent laugh. They smiled back for a second, and went back to work.
They were all filthy. The mud was deep, and the few slaves who had shoes quickly lost them in the muck. Still, the baskets were filled quickly, only to be replaced by more empty baskets which needed filling.
Just as the sun approached its zenith, a commotion drew everyone's attention. Someone was running through the vineyard….chasing someone, perhaps? No, chasing something. Something small.
All the slaves were soon following John. Several slipped and slid down the vineyards gentle hills. A few were trampled to death; that was not good news for the harvest size.
Finally, in the muddy waters of the stream, at the edge of the vineyard, the slaves caught up to John. As Father Kinkaid ran to get some soldiers to force the slaves back to work, everyone else looked expectantly at John.
"I got 'im!" John exclaimed. His hands were at his side, hidden by the muck at the river's edge.
"Got what?" "Got who?!"
John looked a little sheepish.
"Uh….this." He pulled one hand up out of the muck. He was holding a frog (photo 2).
The older slaves sighed in exasperation and went back to work. Perhaps if they got back fast enough, Father Kinkaid would only punish John and let the rest of them live.
John continued to look sheepish, until everyone but the Gregory and his siblings had left. Then his expression changed drastically. "Guys," he whispered excitedly, his face charged with excitement, "this is it! Our way out!"
"What do you mean?" Gregory asked, a little confused.
"This is no ordinary frog!" John climbed out of the river's muck, with a little help from Gregory. He still had the frog in one hand. "It's a Michigan Jumping Frog. They grant wishes."
Everyone's eyes got wide; then they broke into nervous smiles.
Jean relaxed, and that was his mistake. For the frog was waiting for just such an opportunity. It leapt from his hand, and jumped toward the river.
Fortunately, littlest sister Cynthia caught it. Unfortunately, she immediately made a wish. "I with we could overthrow thith evil duke and be fwee!" she lisped happily.
The sky grew dark. Thunder clapped. And a strange transformation began. All of the siblings began to morph and change shape. Some subtly, some not so subtly. Oh, they were all still human—for the most part—but their clothes changed, their hair grew longer, and each sibling had a black mask affixed to his or her face.
But even more horrifying, John appeared to turn into a large rat! The frog cackled wickedly, and hopped into the river, never to be seen again.
Gregory scooped up the rat. "Well, we got Cynthia's wish. But how will turning us into an evil rat-worshipping cult overthrow the Duke?" (photo 1)
"Maybe we could gnaw his knee caps off," offered Robert. Pietr punched his younger brother's arm.
"No, there's got to be some other way," mused Gregory, "but what?"
'"A-hem."
Everyone look at the rat. It was speaking to them.
"First, let's get out of here before the soldiers arrive." They ran down the river, until the got to some trees that offered a little cover.
"Next, don't you silly kids know anything about evil rat-worshipping cults?" demanded John-rat.
The cultists stared intently at the floor, embarrassed to admit that they did not recall the techniques and powers of rat-worshipping cults.
Exasperated, John filled them in. "It's not just the Duke. His whole family is evil. Ever since they were kicked out of the pear tree vineyard they used to run. We have to take out The Duke and his four siblings. Otherwise, we'll get a ruler just as bad as The Duke."
"But how will we manage that?" asked Janice, a worried look on her face.
"Simple," said John-rat. "At the festival tonight, we will poison them. We will use our evil rat-worshipping cult powers to add poison to their wine before they drink it. When they die, the next in line to the throne can ascend and that person will free all the slaves!"
The cult eagerly discussed their plans for the evening. Since Cynthia and Robert were the smallest, it was decided they would have to sneak in to the wine preparation tent and spike the beverages.
The rat cult spent the rest of the day feeding John-rat certain herbs and plants, forcing lots of water down his throat, and then milking him (for he was now a she-rat) to produce the poison.
"Remember," John-rat admonished before the youngest (and most adorable) rat cultists set off on their task, "The Duke's family drinks from vessels the same shape, but different sizes. The Duke's is the largest, put about half the poison in his. Put half of the remaining poison in each vessel, continuing from largest to smallest, until you have one vessel remaining. Put all the remaining poison in that vessel."
"We know!" whined the two youngsters.
"Good," said John-rat. He smiled, but his sharp teeth and beady eyes made the smile kind of creepy.
With the excitement of the festival, Robert and Cynthia tried to sneak into the wine preparation tent. They made it! There before them, lay their goal! (photo 4)
They crept forward, poison in hand. Soon, the deed was done, and they crept back outside, to join their rat brethren.
About an hour later, the time for the drinking of the vintage arrived. The Duke called forth his siblings. He named them: "Princess Tracy! Prince Christopher! Prince Daniel! Princess Laurie!" The crowd seemed stunned. When had they been elevated to the status of Prince and Princess? Could it be? "I have been elected Prince of the region!" A great cheer went up; well, as great a cheer as four tipsy royals can manage without advanced warning. The sacred vessels of the former rulers of the pear trees were placed into the hands of the royal family. They drank. Deeply.
"Ahhhh," they all exclaimed, as was the tradition.
"Ack!" they all exclaimed as they died, which was not the tradition.
The slaves all celebrated for hours. They stopped picking grapes, drank wine, had Father Kinkaid drawn and quartered for complicity in the Duke's wretched leadership, and slept the sleep of drunks.
The next day, they work. (photo 1 again) "Hey," Gregory asked John-rat, "who's the next in line to the throne anyway?"
John-rat smiled evilly. "Why, I am, of course. Now back to work, slaves!" Terrified, they all began picking grapes again. Occasionally, King John-rat would fire his evil rat lord death rays near someone's feet, just to make him "dance" for his amusement.
"Hey!" complained the slaves, "why didn't you just kill The Duke with your evil rat lord death rays?"
"Because," answered King John-rat, "it's so much sweeter to have your work for your freedom and achieve it, before I take it away. Dance! Dance!"
The End?
Thanks for reading "The Brady Kids Get Sold Into Slavery" – available soon on DVD and VHS!
The rain had finally let up. The sky was beautiful but the mud was hell. No matter, the slaves still had to work the fields; grapes must be picked when they are ready, not when it is convenient. The Duke smiled as he thought of the crop. Yes, technically, the land belonged to the church, but since he supplied the slaves, he stood to gain the most profit.
"My liege," bowed Father Kinkaid as the Duke entered the church. "It is an honor to receive you."
The Duke got right to business. "How are preparations for the festival going?"
"Very well, my lord," answered the cleric. "While the slaves pick this year's crop, we shall be feasting on the best vintage from ten years past."
"Excellent!" exclaimed the Duke. Without another word, he left. Father Kinkaid judged the Duke's mood to be foul. He hoped the festival went smoothly, for he enjoyed his duties as spiritual leader; he would hate to be sent to the—no! better not even to think of that!
The Duke rode away from the church, through the vineyard. Stopping at the bottom of the hill, he turned for one last look at the unplucked vines, remember how they had looked just a few short months before (photo 3).. In a few days, they would be bare of grapes, and the Duke expected this to be his finest plucking ever.
The Duke's thoughts turned to his siblings. They were all toeing the line, and would pose no threat to him. Tonight, they would drink the family vintage and toast his health. The Duke chuckled, remembering all of their weaknesses, and how he had exploited them. Playing them against one another had been most fun; he almost wished he could do it again. Oh well, he sighed to himself, perhaps that one slave he had been dreaming about would keep his mind occupied during the festival….
The church bell sounded the morning hour.
The slaves hurried from the hovels, but there was no excitement in their rapid pace. Picking grapes was hard work and they did not enjoy it. Doubly worse, they were expected to pick faster than was humanly possible, for each year a new record crop must be plucked. To do otherwise was to invite disaster, probably directly from the Duke's hand.
"Hey, why all the rushing?" asked a slave named Gregory. "Grape time," mumbled an old-timer who move away quickly. Gregory turned to his brothers and sisters, "Grapes? I wonder what that's about?" "You'll learn soon enough," answered another slave. "It's my fourth year for grape time. Pick fast or you'll be whipped. And don't eat any! You'll lose a finger for each one you eat!" The slaves glances around furtively, "My name's John," he whispered quietly to Gregory before moving away in the crowd.
Gregory could not tell if this slave was serious. If he had learned one thing since they had been captured, it was that people rarely told the truth or helped one another in this hellhole. Nonetheless, he thought it prudent to warn his siblings, so he relayed what he had learned.
"Gee, Gregory," said his youngest brother Robert, "we'd better pick fast then."
"And don't eat any," admonished middle sister Janice, already stressing rules and propriety.
"I may not have to pick any grapes," said the eldest sister, Marsha. "I think the Duke likes me."
No one had any response to that, expect to glare at her with anger—and a little envy. They continued on their way to the vineyard, slogging through the mud.
After a few hours picking grapes, some slaves actually believed that death would be a welcome reprieve. They were not to be so lucky. Gregory's middle brother, Pietr, did note with some satisfaction that eldest sister was working her finger to the bone, just like the rest of them. He nudged his brothers, tilting his head toward her, and giving a silent laugh. They smiled back for a second, and went back to work.
They were all filthy. The mud was deep, and the few slaves who had shoes quickly lost them in the muck. Still, the baskets were filled quickly, only to be replaced by more empty baskets which needed filling.
Just as the sun approached its zenith, a commotion drew everyone's attention. Someone was running through the vineyard….chasing someone, perhaps? No, chasing something. Something small.
All the slaves were soon following John. Several slipped and slid down the vineyards gentle hills. A few were trampled to death; that was not good news for the harvest size.
Finally, in the muddy waters of the stream, at the edge of the vineyard, the slaves caught up to John. As Father Kinkaid ran to get some soldiers to force the slaves back to work, everyone else looked expectantly at John.
"I got 'im!" John exclaimed. His hands were at his side, hidden by the muck at the river's edge.
"Got what?" "Got who?!"
John looked a little sheepish.
"Uh….this." He pulled one hand up out of the muck. He was holding a frog (photo 2).
The older slaves sighed in exasperation and went back to work. Perhaps if they got back fast enough, Father Kinkaid would only punish John and let the rest of them live.
John continued to look sheepish, until everyone but the Gregory and his siblings had left. Then his expression changed drastically. "Guys," he whispered excitedly, his face charged with excitement, "this is it! Our way out!"
"What do you mean?" Gregory asked, a little confused.
"This is no ordinary frog!" John climbed out of the river's muck, with a little help from Gregory. He still had the frog in one hand. "It's a Michigan Jumping Frog. They grant wishes."
Everyone's eyes got wide; then they broke into nervous smiles.
Jean relaxed, and that was his mistake. For the frog was waiting for just such an opportunity. It leapt from his hand, and jumped toward the river.
Fortunately, littlest sister Cynthia caught it. Unfortunately, she immediately made a wish. "I with we could overthrow thith evil duke and be fwee!" she lisped happily.
The sky grew dark. Thunder clapped. And a strange transformation began. All of the siblings began to morph and change shape. Some subtly, some not so subtly. Oh, they were all still human—for the most part—but their clothes changed, their hair grew longer, and each sibling had a black mask affixed to his or her face.
But even more horrifying, John appeared to turn into a large rat! The frog cackled wickedly, and hopped into the river, never to be seen again.
Gregory scooped up the rat. "Well, we got Cynthia's wish. But how will turning us into an evil rat-worshipping cult overthrow the Duke?" (photo 1)
"Maybe we could gnaw his knee caps off," offered Robert. Pietr punched his younger brother's arm.
"No, there's got to be some other way," mused Gregory, "but what?"
'"A-hem."
Everyone look at the rat. It was speaking to them.
"First, let's get out of here before the soldiers arrive." They ran down the river, until the got to some trees that offered a little cover.
"Next, don't you silly kids know anything about evil rat-worshipping cults?" demanded John-rat.
The cultists stared intently at the floor, embarrassed to admit that they did not recall the techniques and powers of rat-worshipping cults.
Exasperated, John filled them in. "It's not just the Duke. His whole family is evil. Ever since they were kicked out of the pear tree vineyard they used to run. We have to take out The Duke and his four siblings. Otherwise, we'll get a ruler just as bad as The Duke."
"But how will we manage that?" asked Janice, a worried look on her face.
"Simple," said John-rat. "At the festival tonight, we will poison them. We will use our evil rat-worshipping cult powers to add poison to their wine before they drink it. When they die, the next in line to the throne can ascend and that person will free all the slaves!"
The cult eagerly discussed their plans for the evening. Since Cynthia and Robert were the smallest, it was decided they would have to sneak in to the wine preparation tent and spike the beverages.
The rat cult spent the rest of the day feeding John-rat certain herbs and plants, forcing lots of water down his throat, and then milking him (for he was now a she-rat) to produce the poison.
"Remember," John-rat admonished before the youngest (and most adorable) rat cultists set off on their task, "The Duke's family drinks from vessels the same shape, but different sizes. The Duke's is the largest, put about half the poison in his. Put half of the remaining poison in each vessel, continuing from largest to smallest, until you have one vessel remaining. Put all the remaining poison in that vessel."
"We know!" whined the two youngsters.
"Good," said John-rat. He smiled, but his sharp teeth and beady eyes made the smile kind of creepy.
With the excitement of the festival, Robert and Cynthia tried to sneak into the wine preparation tent. They made it! There before them, lay their goal! (photo 4)
They crept forward, poison in hand. Soon, the deed was done, and they crept back outside, to join their rat brethren.
About an hour later, the time for the drinking of the vintage arrived. The Duke called forth his siblings. He named them: "Princess Tracy! Prince Christopher! Prince Daniel! Princess Laurie!" The crowd seemed stunned. When had they been elevated to the status of Prince and Princess? Could it be? "I have been elected Prince of the region!" A great cheer went up; well, as great a cheer as four tipsy royals can manage without advanced warning. The sacred vessels of the former rulers of the pear trees were placed into the hands of the royal family. They drank. Deeply.
"Ahhhh," they all exclaimed, as was the tradition.
"Ack!" they all exclaimed as they died, which was not the tradition.
The slaves all celebrated for hours. They stopped picking grapes, drank wine, had Father Kinkaid drawn and quartered for complicity in the Duke's wretched leadership, and slept the sleep of drunks.
The next day, they work. (photo 1 again) "Hey," Gregory asked John-rat, "who's the next in line to the throne anyway?"
John-rat smiled evilly. "Why, I am, of course. Now back to work, slaves!" Terrified, they all began picking grapes again. Occasionally, King John-rat would fire his evil rat lord death rays near someone's feet, just to make him "dance" for his amusement.
"Hey!" complained the slaves, "why didn't you just kill The Duke with your evil rat lord death rays?"
"Because," answered King John-rat, "it's so much sweeter to have your work for your freedom and achieve it, before I take it away. Dance! Dance!"
The End?
Thanks for reading "The Brady Kids Get Sold Into Slavery" – available soon on DVD and VHS!
Barendd Nobeard
Explorer
Well, I'm done. Stick a fork in me.
I hope you get yours done, Son of Lilith. If not, I look forward to the alternate challenger!
I hope you get yours done, Son of Lilith. If not, I look forward to the alternate challenger!
Taladas
Registered User
Taladas vs. Speaker
The wild boar was no challenge. He simply ran, pushed on by chasers. He ran driven by fear down the trail and right towards me. I rested on the overhanging branch with the spear in my right hand. I heard and then saw him coming. His gait was ungainly and clumsy, very different from the boars I usually hunt. I sent a small prayer for forgiveness and then speared him right through the heart. Swinging down from the tree, I saw him stagger for a few steps and then collapse. I heard his last breath and tears fell down my face. I had hunted countless boar and other animals but this boar was like no other. His name was Silas and he was a human magically transformed into a boar. He had stolen from Charzigne, the wizard who rules this land. Charzigne delights in punishment. He laughed as he polymorphed Silas into a boar. He had ordered us to hunt him down and kill him. I picked Silas up and carried him back to the village (pic #1). No one even looked at me on the way back.
Charzigne had ordered that I bring back Silas’ body for his examination. But first I had to march though the village to let all see, what happens to those who would steal from Charzigne. My fellow hunters quickly dispersed into the village leaving me alone to walk through the town square. I trudged in silence afraid to look up, knowing that they all knew that I had killed him. I was almost out when I heard her. Elaine, Silas’ wife, was wailing. Her hysterical sobbing tore at me like a cat of nine tails, shredding my beleaguered soul. A rock was thrown, hitting my face and knocking me over. I hit the ground dazed. Several other rocks were thrown, most missing. I pulled Silas over my shoulders and got up again. I carried him out of the village.
On the road to Charzigne’s abode is Farmer Jon (pic # 2). Farmer Jon is called by some in the village the First. The first to be punished. It happened before my grandfather was born. He speared a locust the size of a squirrel, that was eating his crops. He didn’t know that it was one of Charzigne’s great experiments. Charzigne was enraged and turned him into a statue as a warning to others. But Charzigne was far more cruel than to simply turn Farmer Jon into a lifeless statue. He left him aware of his surroundings and able to speak but unable to move. Farmer Jon has long since gone mad.
“Greetings lad, how fare ye?”
“Hello, Farmer Jon, I have come to see the master and must be quick about it.”
“Yes, He is not one for patience and he does have a temper on him. Best be off with you lad. I have a field to clear and you have your errand, but please tell Bess and the children that I will be home soon, you know how they worry when I am out late.”
Staring into that immobile face all I could say was “Yyy…yes, I will tell them.”
Soon I am in the field of flowers were Charzigne holds his audiences. I put down Silas’ body and waited. Charzigne orders that all who seek him come here and wait. He will come when he is ready. Then I see it moving, through the field of flowers (pic #4). A giant puppet of a man in black robes and a blue coat. The face has blue skin and yellow hair. The arms are being controlled by two figures in black. It is a form that Charzigne likes. It is all him even the creatures controlling his arms. He crosses the field and towers over me.
“YOU HAVE DONE AS I HAVE ORDERED!”
“Yes, your liege.”
“THEN WE SHALL CELIBRATE! WE SHALL ROAST THIS BOAR AND FEAST UPON IT!”
The shock rolls over me.
“THE ENTIRE VILLAGE WILL ATTEND!”
I am slashing at him before I realize it. The knife pulled from my belt. The figure on the right arm falls as I stab it. The left swings the arm of the puppet but it’s ungainly and I easily move away.
“BETRAYAL! YOU WILL BE PUNISHED!”
In a rage I leap on the puppet stabbing and tearing. And it starts to fall. The puppet collapses on me sending me to the ground. The smell of flowers is overwhelming and I can’t think.
The first thing I sense is the smell of roasted boar. And then the sound of singing. It sounds forced and unspirited. The strong taste of wine follows. The next thing I am aware of is a tapping that seems to ring though my whole body (pic #3).
“MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION!” followed by dead silence.
“I, HUMBLY PROPOSE A TOAST. MAY MY AUGUST REIGN CONTINUE TILL THE END OF ALL AGES, AND MAY YOU GOOD PEOPLE NEVER KNOW WHAT IT IS TO BE WITHOUT ME!”
The wild boar was no challenge. He simply ran, pushed on by chasers. He ran driven by fear down the trail and right towards me. I rested on the overhanging branch with the spear in my right hand. I heard and then saw him coming. His gait was ungainly and clumsy, very different from the boars I usually hunt. I sent a small prayer for forgiveness and then speared him right through the heart. Swinging down from the tree, I saw him stagger for a few steps and then collapse. I heard his last breath and tears fell down my face. I had hunted countless boar and other animals but this boar was like no other. His name was Silas and he was a human magically transformed into a boar. He had stolen from Charzigne, the wizard who rules this land. Charzigne delights in punishment. He laughed as he polymorphed Silas into a boar. He had ordered us to hunt him down and kill him. I picked Silas up and carried him back to the village (pic #1). No one even looked at me on the way back.
Charzigne had ordered that I bring back Silas’ body for his examination. But first I had to march though the village to let all see, what happens to those who would steal from Charzigne. My fellow hunters quickly dispersed into the village leaving me alone to walk through the town square. I trudged in silence afraid to look up, knowing that they all knew that I had killed him. I was almost out when I heard her. Elaine, Silas’ wife, was wailing. Her hysterical sobbing tore at me like a cat of nine tails, shredding my beleaguered soul. A rock was thrown, hitting my face and knocking me over. I hit the ground dazed. Several other rocks were thrown, most missing. I pulled Silas over my shoulders and got up again. I carried him out of the village.
On the road to Charzigne’s abode is Farmer Jon (pic # 2). Farmer Jon is called by some in the village the First. The first to be punished. It happened before my grandfather was born. He speared a locust the size of a squirrel, that was eating his crops. He didn’t know that it was one of Charzigne’s great experiments. Charzigne was enraged and turned him into a statue as a warning to others. But Charzigne was far more cruel than to simply turn Farmer Jon into a lifeless statue. He left him aware of his surroundings and able to speak but unable to move. Farmer Jon has long since gone mad.
“Greetings lad, how fare ye?”
“Hello, Farmer Jon, I have come to see the master and must be quick about it.”
“Yes, He is not one for patience and he does have a temper on him. Best be off with you lad. I have a field to clear and you have your errand, but please tell Bess and the children that I will be home soon, you know how they worry when I am out late.”
Staring into that immobile face all I could say was “Yyy…yes, I will tell them.”
Soon I am in the field of flowers were Charzigne holds his audiences. I put down Silas’ body and waited. Charzigne orders that all who seek him come here and wait. He will come when he is ready. Then I see it moving, through the field of flowers (pic #4). A giant puppet of a man in black robes and a blue coat. The face has blue skin and yellow hair. The arms are being controlled by two figures in black. It is a form that Charzigne likes. It is all him even the creatures controlling his arms. He crosses the field and towers over me.
“YOU HAVE DONE AS I HAVE ORDERED!”
“Yes, your liege.”
“THEN WE SHALL CELIBRATE! WE SHALL ROAST THIS BOAR AND FEAST UPON IT!”
The shock rolls over me.
“THE ENTIRE VILLAGE WILL ATTEND!”
I am slashing at him before I realize it. The knife pulled from my belt. The figure on the right arm falls as I stab it. The left swings the arm of the puppet but it’s ungainly and I easily move away.
“BETRAYAL! YOU WILL BE PUNISHED!”
In a rage I leap on the puppet stabbing and tearing. And it starts to fall. The puppet collapses on me sending me to the ground. The smell of flowers is overwhelming and I can’t think.
The first thing I sense is the smell of roasted boar. And then the sound of singing. It sounds forced and unspirited. The strong taste of wine follows. The next thing I am aware of is a tapping that seems to ring though my whole body (pic #3).
“MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION!” followed by dead silence.
“I, HUMBLY PROPOSE A TOAST. MAY MY AUGUST REIGN CONTINUE TILL THE END OF ALL AGES, AND MAY YOU GOOD PEOPLE NEVER KNOW WHAT IT IS TO BE WITHOUT ME!”
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