Spring Ceramic DM™: WINNER POSTED!
tzor
First Post
I'm brand new. Come to think of it, this is the first time I have been comming to the boards multiple times a day just to check a single thread. Most of the times I check the boards once a day or once every other day, and the way people post on this board most of the threads here are gone off of page one in a few hours, so I've missed a lot.
But I do not consider my lack of previous participation an impediment. In fact, I consider it an advantage, a lack of previous baggage and expectations. I am like fresh clay ready to be fired in the heat of competition. (Well this is Ceramic DM, I've got to use at least one ceramtic reference.) And a fine amphora it will be, and grander it's contents.
But I do not consider my lack of previous participation an impediment. In fact, I consider it an advantage, a lack of previous baggage and expectations. I am like fresh clay ready to be fired in the heat of competition. (Well this is Ceramic DM, I've got to use at least one ceramtic reference.) And a fine amphora it will be, and grander it's contents.
thullgrim
Hero
Ceramic DM (Spring 04) Round #1
Thullgrim vs Macbeth
The Life of Riley
A man stands on the steps of a Cathedral. The looming gothic edifice that is Sacred Heart towers overhead its spires reaching towards the cloud laden sky. The wind swirls and the man clutches at his hat in an attempt to keep it on his head. Pulling his coat tight about him he strides up the granite stairs and pulls open the door to the church.
Calming light banishes the natural gloom of the church. Rows of pews stretch towards the altar. Being here brings a feeling of relief, of safety and even of home as Riley steps into it.
He makes his way towards the altar, stops and lights a candle along the way. He pauses at the altar and glares up at the bishop’s chair, a brief flicker of emotion crossing his lean face. Suddenly turning, he makes his way to the nearest confessional booth and rings a bell.
He enters the booth and awaits the priest. This is as he remembers it polished wood, dark with age and polish, and the sins of thousands. Cushioned benches covered in dark red cloth and a small candle. A wooden screen separates the penitent from the confessor; a tiny window with a small door allows them to speak comfortably.
He sits, meditating on sins of the past and present. It had finally come to this, a return to the strictures of his youth. Returning to the place where his life had taken its most definitive turn. Killing a man changes everything.
Moments pass and Riley hears footsteps echoing off the marble floors. The door to the booth opens and the priest step into the booth. The sliding window opens and the priest waits for Riley to begin.
“Forgive me father for I have sinned. It has been” a pause “It has been a very long time since my last confession. Almost twenty years”.
“It is ok my son, god has an eternity”
“Father” Riley begins “I have been a bad man, a very bad man. I lie, cheat, and steal. I am vain and proud. I have gambled with my life and the lives of others. I have had relations with married women, and stolen the hearts of other women who wished to marry me. I have done all of these things without a thought towards those I’ve harmed directly or otherwise, until now. Tonight I killed my first man, and not just one. I stepped over the line I drew for myself long ago and now I have nowhere to turn. Help me father, heal me, forgive me, please father, take my confession and help me if you can.” He holds his head in his hands as the tears come.
“My son, only god can forgive, but I will help you if I can, let me hear your story.
“Yes father. It is difficult for me to tell, my life is very….confused. For many years I have made my living as an artist and thief. I steal original masterpieces and replace them with fakes of my own devising. I am very good father. You have probably seen some of my work yourself. In any case my clients are almost always wealthy private collectors. Some of these men are very powerful, and very ruthless. They pay a lot of money to own originals and I provide them.” Riley takes a deep breath and thinks about what he is going to say next.
“I was hired to fake and steal a painting, the Eye of Yss, whatever that means. A work by an obscure modern artist, picture itself was not impressive, the sum offered was. Most of the people I work for contact me anonymously and this was no different. They contacted my agent who passed their offer along to me. I checked the job out (2) and decided the money was simply to easy to pass up. They wired half of the money into a bank account. Copying the painting proved to be no problem, the technique involved was nothing compared to forging some of the impressionist masters, for instance. Stealing the painting also proved to be little hassle, as it was located in a gallery of modern art rather than a museum, and security in those things is laughable. Everything was going quite well, too well it turns out.” Sighing he continues with the story.
“I was to make the drop at a steeplechase race (3). I was simply to put the piece in a lock in the Jockey’s locker room, and the remainder of the money would be wired. I made the drop as planned and placed a couple of bets. Took in the racing and left the track for they day. I checked my accounts and sure enough the deal was complete. I slept like a babe that night.” Clearing his throat he says “Listen father, I know a man is supposed to be contrite when he confesses, but you have to understand, I don’t feel bad about how I make my living no one gets hurt, and frankly is obscene to see what some people will pay for some paint on a canvas. The next series of events though scared the hell out of me though and is the cause of my current distress.”
“My life continued as it usually does, I went to museums and galleries and practiced my technique. I was just going through the motions, waiting for the next job to come along, or the next poker game. Like I said earlier, I gamble a lot. I even went to the steeplechase race the following weekend to place a few bets. Nothing out of the ordinary happened until one night I awoke to the sounds of someone in my apartment. I jumped out of bed grabbing the baseball bat I keep in my room. Turning on the lights I went from room to room in search of the intruder.”
His voice growing excited he continues.
“When I got into the living room someone knocked me over the head. A woman, dressed in a strange mesh top and black leather pants, I lashed out with my bat but she easily deflected my blow and threw me to the ground. I got up just as she lunged towards me. We struggled, alternating blows, her with the strength and skill of someone obviously trained to fight, me with nothing more than frustration and fear. I managed to get behind her and throw her towards the wall. She landed hard but leapt up before I could follow up. We wrestled near the wall; she gripped my hair and slammed me headfirst into the fish tank. I grabbed some of the hose from the tank and attempted to strange her. I finally got behind her and was applying all the pressure I could to my make shift garrote. She sank to he knees and her eyes closed. I let up on the pressure and when I did she grabbed the bat and struck me solidly. Down I went gasping for air. Last I remember she was standing above me with the fish tank hose around her neck smiling.” (1)
“I opened my eyes to steamy darkness, not like night in the city but like being locked in a small closet. My body ached, muscles felt like they were on fire where I had been hit with the bat there was a throbbing pain and it hurt to breath. There was a strange taste in my mouth. I felt around and discovered I was lying in something padded on all sides with a satiny material. Terror struck like a hammer as I realized I was in a casket. I thrashed in the darkness, pounding at the lid, screaming ‘let me out, get me out of here’ to no avail. I blacked out again.”
Chuckling the priest says “Oh that was a good story but if you are quite done wasting my time young man I have other duties to attend to”.
“Father you must believe me. This is the truth. It gets even stranger I can assure you.” Riley cries out. “Please! You must let me continue. Someone must know of what I have seen.”
Struck by the vehemence in the man’s voice the priest tells him to continue.
“Thank you father. I swear I speak the truth.” Taking a deep breath Riley continues with the story.
“I awoke again to the darkness, though this time a different sort. It was cold, very cold and not quite as dark. As my eyes adjusted I became more aware of my surroundings. The lid to my coffin was open and I sat up to look around. There were other coffins in the same room I was in, maybe six of them. The room was getting light flickering source down the hall. There appeared to be no door to the room. Water could be heard dripping from the ceiling and whole room smelled of mold and decay.”
“Getting out of the coffin, I dropped to floor as soundlessly as possible. I was now dressed in some strange robe like garment; it felt like silk and was embroidered with strange designs. The designs were set with gold thread, and the robe itself appeared to be deep purple, bordering on black. In the dim light who could tell?” In any case, I moved as close to the doorway as I could and looked down the lit hall. Torches; would you believe there were torches in the hall? The hall, like the room I was in was built of stone. The walls were slick with water and in the corners near the ceiling were patches of mold. Seeing no one in the hall, I went back to the room to look in the coffins.”
“I approached the first one with trepidation; after all, it could contain anything. I opened it and looked inside. Empty. The second coffin was also empty and some of my fear was beginning to wear off. I approached the third and was struck by the overwhelming stench of decaying meat. I decided to leave that one and move on to the fourth. As it opened I saw something white glinting in the torchlight, I opened the casket further and was shocked to see the obvious remains of a human skeleton. There was a knife protruding from its ribs and the remnants of the same type of robe I was wearing clung to the frame. I took the knife and kept looking. One of the two remaining caskets smelled of rot, so I left it, and the other contained another knife so I took it too. I hid the second knife in the folds of my room.”
“I crept back to the doorway, still no one to be seen. Moving down the hall I began to hear chanting and a faint odor of incense reached me. I came to a point where the hall intersected with another hall running the opposite direction creating a 4 way intersection. I could not tell which direction the chanting was coming from but it was getting louder. The same word being repeated over and over again. Hammering itself into my mind.”
-Yss-gar-on-Yss-gar-on-Yss-gar-on-Yss-gar-on-
“Over and over, unceasingly” he pauses to wipe the sweat from his brow and continues “the same phrase droned on. It was hypnotic.”
-Yss-gar-on-Yss-gar-on-Yss-gar-on-Yss-gar-on-
“At the intersection I went straight putting my back to the wall on one side of the hall and moving down it. It seemed to get brighter and the incense was getting stronger, strange tendrils of smoke danced in the air and seemed to cling to me as I walked. The voices were getting louder and stronger, more intense. A new sound was added to the mix, a pounding sound, like a large drum, or many feet stomping rhythmically. The chanting begins to reach a crescendo as the hall merges into a large room.”
-YSS-GAR-ON-YSS-GAR-ON-YSS-GAR-ON-YSS-GAR-ON-
“The room is circular in shape with a raised dais in the center of the room and what it is obviously an altar in the center. There are people in the room, dressed in robes, wearing masks of gold, dancing around the altar chanting. Obviously they are the source of the chanting. Incense burns in sconces scattered about the room, filling the room with a thin haze. My head was swimming from the fumes.”
“A glint of metal catches the light and I follow it to its source, a man holding the knife poised over his head, ready to strike. I looked down at the altar and saw a man strapped down. He was conscious and watching the entire ritual. He was smiling. The knife arcs downward and the dancers cry out ‘YSSGARON’, the man’s blood is spilled onto the altar. As I watch the altar looks to absorb the blood and the dancers’ race forward to put their fingers in the blood. They draw symbols on each other in the blood of their victim.”
“A scream rings out ‘NOOOO’ and I realize it’s my own voice. My scream shatters everything, people look at me. I run, randomly going into rooms and closing doors. Hearing feet behind me, voices, people searching I run into the next room, it’s a changing room of some sort. Cubicles are set up with clothes and shoes in each. Searching the room for something to wear other than robes I find lots of clothes, everything from Armani to Levi’s and at least one priests collar, crucifix and bishop’s ring. Amidst one set of clothes I find a gun in a shoulder holster and a badge. I took the gun and the extra-clip I found in the holster and headed towards the door, as I did it opened. Not even stopping to look I pulled the trigger. The gun screamed in my hands, echoing off the stone of the complex. A body fell to the ground. Looking at it I see it’s the woman who attacked me in my apartment. She was smiling.”
“I hurried to the hall began looking for a way out. What follows was a blur of smoke and fire and death. I had to shoot several more times and killed at least three more people. I found a set of stairs just a group of them found me. I backed up the stairs; gun pointed at them, fired into the crowd a few times and finished climbing out. I emerged from the underground complex into a marble room with a crypt in it. The crypt sat of center and appeared to be designed to hide the secret staircase to the below. I slid the crypt into place. I heard hammering on the crypt as I went outside to face the dawn. The sun rising over the distant horizon showered light and heat down upon me, things I had been sorely lacking throughout the long night. Several cars were parked outside. I found one with a set of keys in it and sped off. Looking in the mirror I saw what appeared to be a strange mausoleum on a grass covered hill (4). I was followed for a while but when I got to the city I lost them.”
“Father I know I killed people tonight but surely god can forgive me?”
The priest sighed “Yes my son god will forgive you, for you truly did not intend to kill those people but were only defending your own life. It is a strange tale you tell. I know not how I can help you though if it is within my power I will. Tell me have you gone to the police? Have you told anyone else of your theft or of what has happened?”
“No father I came straight here. I could not think of anywhere else to go. I grew up in the orphanage this church runs, it’s the only place I ever feel safe.”
“I am glad you came to me” said the priest.
Riley could hear more footsteps in the church, heading towards the altar. He felt calmed by the priest’s words and was opening his mouth to speak when the door to the confessional opened. Standing there were two men in purple robes and a smiling oriental woman.
Thullgrim vs Macbeth
The Life of Riley
A man stands on the steps of a Cathedral. The looming gothic edifice that is Sacred Heart towers overhead its spires reaching towards the cloud laden sky. The wind swirls and the man clutches at his hat in an attempt to keep it on his head. Pulling his coat tight about him he strides up the granite stairs and pulls open the door to the church.
Calming light banishes the natural gloom of the church. Rows of pews stretch towards the altar. Being here brings a feeling of relief, of safety and even of home as Riley steps into it.
He makes his way towards the altar, stops and lights a candle along the way. He pauses at the altar and glares up at the bishop’s chair, a brief flicker of emotion crossing his lean face. Suddenly turning, he makes his way to the nearest confessional booth and rings a bell.
He enters the booth and awaits the priest. This is as he remembers it polished wood, dark with age and polish, and the sins of thousands. Cushioned benches covered in dark red cloth and a small candle. A wooden screen separates the penitent from the confessor; a tiny window with a small door allows them to speak comfortably.
He sits, meditating on sins of the past and present. It had finally come to this, a return to the strictures of his youth. Returning to the place where his life had taken its most definitive turn. Killing a man changes everything.
Moments pass and Riley hears footsteps echoing off the marble floors. The door to the booth opens and the priest step into the booth. The sliding window opens and the priest waits for Riley to begin.
“Forgive me father for I have sinned. It has been” a pause “It has been a very long time since my last confession. Almost twenty years”.
“It is ok my son, god has an eternity”
“Father” Riley begins “I have been a bad man, a very bad man. I lie, cheat, and steal. I am vain and proud. I have gambled with my life and the lives of others. I have had relations with married women, and stolen the hearts of other women who wished to marry me. I have done all of these things without a thought towards those I’ve harmed directly or otherwise, until now. Tonight I killed my first man, and not just one. I stepped over the line I drew for myself long ago and now I have nowhere to turn. Help me father, heal me, forgive me, please father, take my confession and help me if you can.” He holds his head in his hands as the tears come.
“My son, only god can forgive, but I will help you if I can, let me hear your story.
“Yes father. It is difficult for me to tell, my life is very….confused. For many years I have made my living as an artist and thief. I steal original masterpieces and replace them with fakes of my own devising. I am very good father. You have probably seen some of my work yourself. In any case my clients are almost always wealthy private collectors. Some of these men are very powerful, and very ruthless. They pay a lot of money to own originals and I provide them.” Riley takes a deep breath and thinks about what he is going to say next.
“I was hired to fake and steal a painting, the Eye of Yss, whatever that means. A work by an obscure modern artist, picture itself was not impressive, the sum offered was. Most of the people I work for contact me anonymously and this was no different. They contacted my agent who passed their offer along to me. I checked the job out (2) and decided the money was simply to easy to pass up. They wired half of the money into a bank account. Copying the painting proved to be no problem, the technique involved was nothing compared to forging some of the impressionist masters, for instance. Stealing the painting also proved to be little hassle, as it was located in a gallery of modern art rather than a museum, and security in those things is laughable. Everything was going quite well, too well it turns out.” Sighing he continues with the story.
“I was to make the drop at a steeplechase race (3). I was simply to put the piece in a lock in the Jockey’s locker room, and the remainder of the money would be wired. I made the drop as planned and placed a couple of bets. Took in the racing and left the track for they day. I checked my accounts and sure enough the deal was complete. I slept like a babe that night.” Clearing his throat he says “Listen father, I know a man is supposed to be contrite when he confesses, but you have to understand, I don’t feel bad about how I make my living no one gets hurt, and frankly is obscene to see what some people will pay for some paint on a canvas. The next series of events though scared the hell out of me though and is the cause of my current distress.”
“My life continued as it usually does, I went to museums and galleries and practiced my technique. I was just going through the motions, waiting for the next job to come along, or the next poker game. Like I said earlier, I gamble a lot. I even went to the steeplechase race the following weekend to place a few bets. Nothing out of the ordinary happened until one night I awoke to the sounds of someone in my apartment. I jumped out of bed grabbing the baseball bat I keep in my room. Turning on the lights I went from room to room in search of the intruder.”
His voice growing excited he continues.
“When I got into the living room someone knocked me over the head. A woman, dressed in a strange mesh top and black leather pants, I lashed out with my bat but she easily deflected my blow and threw me to the ground. I got up just as she lunged towards me. We struggled, alternating blows, her with the strength and skill of someone obviously trained to fight, me with nothing more than frustration and fear. I managed to get behind her and throw her towards the wall. She landed hard but leapt up before I could follow up. We wrestled near the wall; she gripped my hair and slammed me headfirst into the fish tank. I grabbed some of the hose from the tank and attempted to strange her. I finally got behind her and was applying all the pressure I could to my make shift garrote. She sank to he knees and her eyes closed. I let up on the pressure and when I did she grabbed the bat and struck me solidly. Down I went gasping for air. Last I remember she was standing above me with the fish tank hose around her neck smiling.” (1)
“I opened my eyes to steamy darkness, not like night in the city but like being locked in a small closet. My body ached, muscles felt like they were on fire where I had been hit with the bat there was a throbbing pain and it hurt to breath. There was a strange taste in my mouth. I felt around and discovered I was lying in something padded on all sides with a satiny material. Terror struck like a hammer as I realized I was in a casket. I thrashed in the darkness, pounding at the lid, screaming ‘let me out, get me out of here’ to no avail. I blacked out again.”
Chuckling the priest says “Oh that was a good story but if you are quite done wasting my time young man I have other duties to attend to”.
“Father you must believe me. This is the truth. It gets even stranger I can assure you.” Riley cries out. “Please! You must let me continue. Someone must know of what I have seen.”
Struck by the vehemence in the man’s voice the priest tells him to continue.
“Thank you father. I swear I speak the truth.” Taking a deep breath Riley continues with the story.
“I awoke again to the darkness, though this time a different sort. It was cold, very cold and not quite as dark. As my eyes adjusted I became more aware of my surroundings. The lid to my coffin was open and I sat up to look around. There were other coffins in the same room I was in, maybe six of them. The room was getting light flickering source down the hall. There appeared to be no door to the room. Water could be heard dripping from the ceiling and whole room smelled of mold and decay.”
“Getting out of the coffin, I dropped to floor as soundlessly as possible. I was now dressed in some strange robe like garment; it felt like silk and was embroidered with strange designs. The designs were set with gold thread, and the robe itself appeared to be deep purple, bordering on black. In the dim light who could tell?” In any case, I moved as close to the doorway as I could and looked down the lit hall. Torches; would you believe there were torches in the hall? The hall, like the room I was in was built of stone. The walls were slick with water and in the corners near the ceiling were patches of mold. Seeing no one in the hall, I went back to the room to look in the coffins.”
“I approached the first one with trepidation; after all, it could contain anything. I opened it and looked inside. Empty. The second coffin was also empty and some of my fear was beginning to wear off. I approached the third and was struck by the overwhelming stench of decaying meat. I decided to leave that one and move on to the fourth. As it opened I saw something white glinting in the torchlight, I opened the casket further and was shocked to see the obvious remains of a human skeleton. There was a knife protruding from its ribs and the remnants of the same type of robe I was wearing clung to the frame. I took the knife and kept looking. One of the two remaining caskets smelled of rot, so I left it, and the other contained another knife so I took it too. I hid the second knife in the folds of my room.”
“I crept back to the doorway, still no one to be seen. Moving down the hall I began to hear chanting and a faint odor of incense reached me. I came to a point where the hall intersected with another hall running the opposite direction creating a 4 way intersection. I could not tell which direction the chanting was coming from but it was getting louder. The same word being repeated over and over again. Hammering itself into my mind.”
-Yss-gar-on-Yss-gar-on-Yss-gar-on-Yss-gar-on-
“Over and over, unceasingly” he pauses to wipe the sweat from his brow and continues “the same phrase droned on. It was hypnotic.”
-Yss-gar-on-Yss-gar-on-Yss-gar-on-Yss-gar-on-
“At the intersection I went straight putting my back to the wall on one side of the hall and moving down it. It seemed to get brighter and the incense was getting stronger, strange tendrils of smoke danced in the air and seemed to cling to me as I walked. The voices were getting louder and stronger, more intense. A new sound was added to the mix, a pounding sound, like a large drum, or many feet stomping rhythmically. The chanting begins to reach a crescendo as the hall merges into a large room.”
-YSS-GAR-ON-YSS-GAR-ON-YSS-GAR-ON-YSS-GAR-ON-
“The room is circular in shape with a raised dais in the center of the room and what it is obviously an altar in the center. There are people in the room, dressed in robes, wearing masks of gold, dancing around the altar chanting. Obviously they are the source of the chanting. Incense burns in sconces scattered about the room, filling the room with a thin haze. My head was swimming from the fumes.”
“A glint of metal catches the light and I follow it to its source, a man holding the knife poised over his head, ready to strike. I looked down at the altar and saw a man strapped down. He was conscious and watching the entire ritual. He was smiling. The knife arcs downward and the dancers cry out ‘YSSGARON’, the man’s blood is spilled onto the altar. As I watch the altar looks to absorb the blood and the dancers’ race forward to put their fingers in the blood. They draw symbols on each other in the blood of their victim.”
“A scream rings out ‘NOOOO’ and I realize it’s my own voice. My scream shatters everything, people look at me. I run, randomly going into rooms and closing doors. Hearing feet behind me, voices, people searching I run into the next room, it’s a changing room of some sort. Cubicles are set up with clothes and shoes in each. Searching the room for something to wear other than robes I find lots of clothes, everything from Armani to Levi’s and at least one priests collar, crucifix and bishop’s ring. Amidst one set of clothes I find a gun in a shoulder holster and a badge. I took the gun and the extra-clip I found in the holster and headed towards the door, as I did it opened. Not even stopping to look I pulled the trigger. The gun screamed in my hands, echoing off the stone of the complex. A body fell to the ground. Looking at it I see it’s the woman who attacked me in my apartment. She was smiling.”
“I hurried to the hall began looking for a way out. What follows was a blur of smoke and fire and death. I had to shoot several more times and killed at least three more people. I found a set of stairs just a group of them found me. I backed up the stairs; gun pointed at them, fired into the crowd a few times and finished climbing out. I emerged from the underground complex into a marble room with a crypt in it. The crypt sat of center and appeared to be designed to hide the secret staircase to the below. I slid the crypt into place. I heard hammering on the crypt as I went outside to face the dawn. The sun rising over the distant horizon showered light and heat down upon me, things I had been sorely lacking throughout the long night. Several cars were parked outside. I found one with a set of keys in it and sped off. Looking in the mirror I saw what appeared to be a strange mausoleum on a grass covered hill (4). I was followed for a while but when I got to the city I lost them.”
“Father I know I killed people tonight but surely god can forgive me?”
The priest sighed “Yes my son god will forgive you, for you truly did not intend to kill those people but were only defending your own life. It is a strange tale you tell. I know not how I can help you though if it is within my power I will. Tell me have you gone to the police? Have you told anyone else of your theft or of what has happened?”
“No father I came straight here. I could not think of anywhere else to go. I grew up in the orphanage this church runs, it’s the only place I ever feel safe.”
“I am glad you came to me” said the priest.
Riley could hear more footsteps in the church, heading towards the altar. He felt calmed by the priest’s words and was opening his mouth to speak when the door to the confessional opened. Standing there were two men in purple robes and a smiling oriental woman.
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Wow, early! That's bold.
Please no one comment on this until the second story is posted, and please don't make biasing commentary until judges have voted.
Macbeth, obviously don't read this until you've posted your story.
Thullgrim, I reserve the right to move your post to later in the thread, so it is matched next to your competitor's physically. If I do so, I won't change anything.
Please note that if you use numbers to designate the illustrations, a footnote summary of which is which will make your readers and judges happy. )
Please no one comment on this until the second story is posted, and please don't make biasing commentary until judges have voted.
Macbeth, obviously don't read this until you've posted your story.
Thullgrim, I reserve the right to move your post to later in the thread, so it is matched next to your competitor's physically. If I do so, I won't change anything.
Please note that if you use numbers to designate the illustrations, a footnote summary of which is which will make your readers and judges happy. )
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