Ceramic DM - Grudge Match! Berandor vs Mythago

Welcome to the Ceramic DM Grudge Match.
Berandor vs Mythago.
Berandor is a two time Ceramic DM Champion
Mythago is a three time Ceramic DM Champion.

Stories will be due in 72 hours.

The arena is quiet as the Judges take their seats. Rodrigo Istalindir barely conceals his anticipation of the blood match about to occur below him. Maldur tosses aside a novella, cataloging the story curtly. He looks to the arena floor, notes that a story does not yet await him. From his robes he draws a crisp trade paperback. With hardly a thought he begins to dev our this snack while he waits for the contest to begin in earnest. BardStephenFox leans over the rails to assure himself that the blood has been fire glazed to the floor. The arena is prepared. All that remains is the contestants, and any spectators interested in the grim battle of wits that is about to transpire.

BardStephenFox gestures and portculli rise into the arches holding the contestants back...

The massive shape of Berandor enters the arena from the dungeons. Squinting against the sudden light, he approaches the judges. Berandor, the German Giant. He is armed with a trident and a net, intending to keep his opponent at distance and tangle her in her own words. Massive and powerful as he is, he knows his opponent is quicker and more dextruous, able to spin circles around him if he allows her to.

Berandor stops in front of the judges' seat. Surely, not all of his sweat can be attributed to the midsummer heat, but he wears defiance in his smile, and confidence in his posture. Berandor puts his weapons on the ground in front of him and kneels. Pushing his fist into his open palm, he looks down, then meets the judges' gaze right on. His voice echoes over the plaza.

"Those about to write, salute you!"

He picks up his weapons and stands, and then he waits.

Hmm this place looks empty? Is this even the right place? Where is everybody?

A slightly confused and flustered spectator finally makes his spot-check and mumbels to himself about useless running from the other arena and far too few spectators. Then he folds out his banner and starts waving it in the air. "Go Giant! Go Giant!

Håkon

RangerWickett sneaks up behind Berandor, pops him in the back of the head with a pistol, and shouts, "Sic Semper Better Writers Than Meis!"

Then he proceeds to scamper out of the arena, cackling maniacally.

To the relief of all those gathered, Berandor was unharmed. RangerWickett used a nerf gun.

"Was Lincoln just here?"

Just his clone.

4,000 words is not very much

I'll see if I can cut the story down some more.

Ceramic DM Grudge Match: The Battle of Broken Quill
mythago vs. Berandor

Gwen

What is life without love? Is it worth living? These questions came unbidden to me, every time I saw Gwen’s face. I didn’t know the answer. Gwen was dead; she died three weeks ago. Twenty-two days. Five hundred and thirty-four hours. Thirty-two thousand and forty-seven minutes. One million, nine hundred twenty-two thousand and four hundred seconds. I counted every one of them.

We were planning to go away. Move to another city, another country maybe. I thought they would let me go. I was wrong.

I waited for her on the bench at the plaza, the one in front of the statue of our Leader. I would quit at LabTech, and she would withdraw all the money she had saved, and then we’d meet at the bench. I sat there for hours, until it was so late I was the only person on the plaza. I knew what had happened, yet still I waited. Patiently, passively, like a frozen mammoth waiting for a thaw that would never come.

But Stella came. To her credit, she came alone, dressed like a fifties P.I. with her worn trench coat and the cheap suits that fit her frame so well. She sat down beside me, and we waited together for a while, both knowing it was for naught, and yet neither of us willing to break the illusion.

Finally, she said, »I’m sorry.« The illusion shattered and its broken shards shredded my heart. I felt pain unlike any I had felt before; it was too much to cry. All I could do was open my mouth and wail like a dying animal. I don’t know how long it lasted, but when I came to I lay on the ground, and my face was wet with tears. I couldn’t breathe, just gasp, and simply sitting back on the bench made my muscles shake. But inside I was calm, cold. My soul had died, and a void filled me that turned my intestines to ice.

»How many years?« I asked. Stella was nice enough not to pretend she didn’t know what I was talking about.

»Twenty-three.«

»Twenty-three years. And you couldn’t let me go.«

»You knew what you got yourself into all those years ago. You knew.«

»I thought we were friends.«

»We are.« I looked into her eyes. I saw tears simmering there, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything anymore.

»What was I supposed to do?« she asked, suddenly agitated. »Let you go? Then it’d be me instead of your girlfriend-«

»Gwen. Her name is Gwendolyn Becky Malone. She is a librarian. She likes to have a salad for lunch, and an espresso and a glass of water to go with it. Her favorite color is indigo. She likes skiing, but she hates the mountains.« Suddenly it hit me. »Why did you come so late?«

»I’m sorry?«

»Gwen and I were supposed to meet hours ago. Why did you come so late?«

Stella didn’t answer. I grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at me. »What took you so long?«

»That’ll be enough, Harrison.« Dorne’s gravelly voice was, as usual, barely understandable. I turned to see the captain of LabTech’s Special Ops standing no more than ten feet away from me. His pistol pointed directly at my crotch. »Hands off, or you’ll never have a girlfriend again.«

I let Stella go. To her credit, she didn’t move away, but immediately ordered Dorne to put the gun away. He complied reluctantly.

»We didn’t know where you were,« Stella said as soon as the gun was in its holster. »And Gwen wouldn’t tell.«

My stomach turned upside down as I caught the meaning behind her words. I barely managed not to vomit on myself, but vomit I did, retching for minutes feeling like days until nothing but bile made its way up my throat. I could stand neither Stella’s guilty look nor Dorne’s smirk. I closed my eyes, but immediately the world began to twist and turn.

»I could say it’s because you’re one of our best engineers,« Stella said meekly, »but we both know that would be a lie. We would have done the same for everybody.«

»How can you believe I will work for you again?«

Stella stood up. »Because otherwise Mr. Dorne will do to you anything he wants.« She patted my shoulder. »Will you run?«

»Where would I go?« I said. And as insane as it sounds, I didn’t want to run away. I had lost everything. Why would it matter how I spent the rest of my life?

Stella nodded. »All right. I’ll give you a week, and then you’re back in the lab.«

»Or I’ll come and fetch you,« Dorne added, before they both vanished into the night and left me sitting on the bench. Alone.

-

I have no recollection of the days that followed, but a week later I was back in the laboratory, designing biological weaponry. Nobody at LabTech talked to me about it, but they all knew what had happened. I saw it in their eyes, I heard it in the silence that seemed to spread out from me whenever I entered a room. I didn’t care what they thought. On my first day, Murray had come up to me, asking how I was while fidgeting with his glasses.

»How do you think I feel, Murray? Why don’t you take a guess?«

From then on, they left me alone like I wanted them to. I shut myself off and spent most of the day in my laboratory. I worked until I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open for longer than a heartbeat, and then I simply lay down on an empty table, pulled a blanket over myself, and hoped I was too tired to dream. When I was awake, I was either working or breaking down crying because I had suddenly had Gwen’s taste in my mouth, or her smell in my nose. Did I eat? I don’t remember.

The only companions I had during those weeks were my failed projects. I had been allowed to keep them because they inspired me to work better, but now I they seemed like the only creatures who were able to understand me. They had been hopeful projects close to being mass manufactured, yet in the end they had lost everything, and now they lived in a tiny compartment and stoically waited for their death.

There was Gunther, the Armedillo. I had molded his back into a tank and outfitted him with machine guns and a tiny cannon. Unfortunately, due to the restructuring he couldn’t roll along the ground as well as before – most importantly, not nearly as silently as before. Furthermore, only the cannon proved able to drop a human, the machine gun pellets nothing more than annoying needle pricks.

Gunther was my favorite. I often thought he was smarter than it seemed, and he only baited his time until he’d break out of here and start a new life in the city. But there were many more: there were the Napalm Grubs, or the Cutterflies, or even the Typhoid Toads, all in their separate containers, crawling, cutting, and croaking.

I missed Gwen more with every day that passed. The loss was gnawing at me, nibbling at me in the first week, becoming more and more hungry, taking ever-larger bites, devouring me from the inside. The visions grew in strength and frequency, as well. At first, I had only felt her touch on my arm for a moment, heard her voice whispering my name. Then, I saw her in the corner of my eye, gone when I turned my head. As the days passed, I started to see her directly, often superimposed on another face. And every time I saw her face, I asked myself: What is life without love?

We met when I brought an overdue book back to the library. She looked at me with hazel eyes full of warmth and intelligence.

»Have you heard about our new system for late fees?« she asked. »You can forego the fee by inviting one of our employees to a drink.«

To this day I don’t know what she saw in me that day. I had been an engineer for twenty years, and my only passion had belonged to my work. Gwen woke me up, showing me a life outside of work. I knew I didn’t deserve her, but I tried my best.

There was a knock on the door. Stella entered. She looked at me with open disdain, but a hint of sympathy lurked behind.

»You look terrible,« she said, shielding her moth with her hand as she came closer. »And you smell terrible, too.«

»Ask me how I feel. Three’s a charm.« That stopped her, but only for a moment.

»Go home, Simon. Take a shower, grab some sleep, and take tomorrow off.«

»You wanted me to work again.«

»And now I want you to go home,« she said. Suddenly, Stella had Gwen’s face. I averted my gaze.

»I’ll clean up and go,« I said.

»Good. And don’t try to clean those clothes. Just throw them away.«

-

I lay awake most of the night, staring into empty space and trying not to miss Gwen lying next to me. It didn’t work. Finally I drifted off to sleep, only to awake an hour later, feeling even more tired than before.

I got up and took a shower. My image in the mirror looked terrible, but I couldn’t find the will to shave or cut my hair, so I just ignored the mirror instead. What do you do with a free day when you’ve got nowhere to go and nobody to call? My family was dead or estranged, and all my friends were colleagues from LabTech – except for Gwen, of course.

Without thinking much, I just stepped out of my apartment and started to walk. My neighborhood was a foreign place; in the space of three weeks, it had turned into a cold, dirty, rundown place where before I’d seen flowers and freshly painted window frames. Happy families had been replaced by thugs and drug dealers. I lived in a ghetto designed not to keep me in, but out.

Every few hundred feet I happened on a place that reminded me of Gwen. There was the windowsill she’d sat upon when her skirt was torn, shielding her behind from inappropriate glances until I arrived to drive her home. There was what we had called the House of Cats – every time we came by, there seemed to be a cat in the window we hadn’t seen before. I didn’t even look if there were any cats in the window today, but I remembered Gwen’s excitement when she’d turn to me and say, »There’s another one, Simon! Where do they get all those cats?«

I passed the Starbucks where we’d had our first coffee, right after we’d met in the library. Following an impulse, I went inside. A fat white man reading the newspaper occupied our table. As I watched, his face turned into Gwen’s. I averted my gaze. I got myself an espresso and a glass of water and sat down at an empty table.

»What do you do for a living, Simon?« Gwen asked. I was still reeling from both the fact that this wonderful woman wanted to have a coffee with me, and that I had actually stepped over my shadow and accepted, so it took a moment until I answered.

»I’m an engineer,« I said.

»So you build bridges?« She seemed genuinely interested, which was all the more confusing to me. My work was boring. I was boring.

»More like, ah, life forms. I engineer organisms.«

»Cloning people?«

»Not yet,« I said, smiling. She smiled, as well, and I was relieved my joke hadn’t fallen flat. »I can’t really talk about it. It’s government work.«

»Oh.« Gwen didn’t like the government, and she told me later that had almost been a deal breaker for her. Luckily for me, it wasn’t. »And what else do you do?«

»I don’t understand.« I understood perfectly well. Now she’d find out how boring I was.

»Well, do you go out a lot? Or sit home and watch TV?«

»Ah, neither, I’m afraid. I read a lot.«

»Turning your books in late«, she interrupted, and we both laughed. I started to feel at ease.

»I also like to walk.«

»Where?«

»Anywhere. In my neighborhood, in the woods, in the mountains. I feel like I connect to something when I walk.«

She considered this for a moment, and I found myself staring at her. She sat upright, full of confidence, and her eyes were clear and, more importantly, she looked straight at me. I couldn’t remember when a woman last looked at me like that. So direct, so open, so… honest. I wanted to kiss her right then and there.

»Where is your favorite spot?«

»There’s this meadow. It leads up a hill, and right at the top, there’s an old tree. It’s got big holes in its bark, almost like a face. I like to lie down beneath it. It’s as if I am the only person on the planet when I’m there.«

»Sounds magical,« Gwen said, and then she smiled again. Her eyes bore into mine, making me hers forever. »You’ll have to show me sometime.«

Suddenly, my stomach turned. I rushed out of the Starbucks and down the street. I had to get out, away from all the people who could not, would not, would never understand how I felt, what I had lost. I had to go somewhere I could be alone with Gwen. I had to go to the meadow.

-

The tree waited for me. With its dark, hollow eyes, it watched my approach unflinchingly. It had seen us. It knew.

»Are you sure you don’t have much experience with women?« Gwen asked as she nestled her head on my shoulder.

»You’re making fun of me.«

She rolled on top of me. »Never.« She kissed me. I returned the kiss, embraced her, and caressed her.

Later, we lay side by side, staring up into the cloudless sky. If happiness was nectar in a cup, I had hoped I would be able to catch a few spilled droplets, but now I had drained the cup in full. My skin glowed golden, and her skin shone like polished mahogany, morning dew replaced by midday sweat.

»Let’s go away,« Gwen said.

»Go where?« I kissed her shoulder.

»I don’t know. I don’t care. Let’s just leave.«

I remained silent for some time. I knew it wasn’t as easy as just quitting – but why not? They’d never let me go – or would they? It wasn’t a good idea, I should have known it wouldn’t work, but as I lay there, with Gwen twirling my chest hair with her fingers, it seemed possible. Everything seemed possible.

And now she was dead, and the sky was full of dark clouds. I spread my arms and prostrated myself before the tree, awaiting its judgment. The tree looked at me with its sunken holes, saying nothing, condemning me all the same.

»I miss her so much,« I said. The tree stared back: And still you’re working for the government she disliked, for the people who killed her.

»I couldn’t have left without her. She was strong. I’m weak. I’m useless.« It did not blink as it assessed my excuses: Do you think she would have loved you if you were weak? If you were useless?

»I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.« It almost seemed to sneer at me: It’s so easy, isn’t it? Let your misery control you. Did you even love her?

»Why do you say that?« I asked the silent tree. It said nothing, but its black eyes told me enough: You wallow in your loss. Your pain. What was she to you? Simply someone to make you feel good? An appliance?

»No, she wasn’t!« The wind rustled what few leaves the tree had left, making it sound like laughter: Then what about her pain? What about her letting herself be tortured for hours to give you the chance to get away? What about her killers working with you every single day?

I could not prevail under its stern gaze. It was right. I had failed her. Only now did I imagine her in some dark cell, tortured by Dorne and his goons, beaten, kicked, abused – maybe even worse. I saw her spit blood, convulse in pain, and then refuse to tell them where I was. And then they rolled in a monitor, and they showed her me, being back in my laboratory, working day and night to find a way to fit laser beams to sharks, and it broke her heart. They broke her body, but I broke her heart.

I cried like I had those three weeks ago, sitting on the bench, but this time I cried for Gwen, for everything she had endured only to have me betray her in the end. When I came to my senses again, it was dark as night. Clouds were towering above me, heavy with rain and thunder. Lightning flashed, illuminating the tree before sending it back into shadow.

»They’ll never let me go,« I said. The tree bellowed with thunder. Even in the darkness, its eyes were pits of black: That doesn't mean you have to stay.

»No. It doesn’t.« I turned around, filled with new determination, and began my walk home. And then the storm began in earnest.

-

I didn’t dream that night. I shaved my beard but decided I liked the longer hair. When I arrived at LabTech, Stella was already waiting for me.

»You look better,« she greeted me.

»I feel better,« I said, trying not to betray my anger as I walked past her. »I’ll get to work immediately.«

»Do that,« she said. I could feel her staring after me, but I was quite sure I had fooled her.

Over the next hours, I went over all current projects I was involved in, burning the data on CDs I had brought with me. I had labeled them as music – the guards knew I liked to listen to music when I worked, and they let me pass. After all, I had been at LabTech for more than twenty years. I had not been dangerous. Until now.

When I had the files I needed, I started to prepare the laboratory, mindful of the camera following my every move. There wasn’t much I could do while being observed, and it was still too early to take the final steps. I forced myself to work on the sharks for a while, but I couldn’t concentrate, and in the end I just stared on my computer screen for half an hour.

Finally, it was night. I knew most of the employees had left the building, so another laboratory going dark might go unnoticed long enough. I glanced towards the camera in the corner of the room. Hoping nobody was watching me right now, I quickly unplugged the camera, and waited. Nothing happened. I pulled Gunther from his cage, and he rubbed his nozzle at my hand.

»Hello to you, too,« I said. I put Gunther on the table and took a scalpel to his back. »Relax. It’s not going to hurt.« I hoped I was right.

When I was done, I opened the lid from the next container and carefully withdrew a handful of Napalm Grubs. They wriggled around in my hand, making it difficult not to drop any. It took me about half an hour to empty the glass container and fill the room with grubs, keeping a handful or two in my attaché case.

Finally, I opened the lid to the third container before I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me. I had my case in one hand, Gunther in the other. I walked briskly, trying to get as far away from the room as possible before the cutterflies realized I had released them from their prison.

»Simon? What are you doing?«

Tonya, a colleague for twelve years. Her tired eyes darted from me to Gunther and back. I slowly put my case down.

»Are you stealing LabTech property?«

»Gunther?« I asked. My voice broke, betraying my calm appearance. »I’m taking him home with me. Stella says it’s all right.« It was an obvious lie to both of us.

»I see.« She took a step backwards. I pulled the scalpel from my pocket. She froze. I had to hurry. I formed a fist around the scalpel and punched Tonya, causing her to fall on her knees.

» I’m not going to tell anybody,« she pleaded. I lifted the scalpel. She put her hands in front of her face, a useless shield of flesh. Suddenly Gwen was looking at me from Tonya's face, superimposed on her fingers. I could not hurt her. I lowered my arm and put the scalpel back into my pocket. Just as I picked up my case again, an explosion rocked the building. The fire alarm went off, and myriad liters of water rained down on us. The cutterflies had found their targets.

I rushed down the stairs, mingling with the other employees driven from their offices by the fire alarm. Nobody said anything about Gunther; I was not the only scientist carrying his favorite project to safety. I was more afraid someone would jostle my case too hard and ignite the grubs within. When I reached the ground floor, I stepped aside. Nobody looked at me as I put Gunther down.

»You’ll have to roll outside, my friend. Follow me. Find me.« The speech recognition chip in his brain recognized the orders. Gunther turned into a slightly misshapen ball and clunkingly followed me as I moved toward the exit. Panicked scientists and the howl of the fire truck just arriving outside obscured the metallic clang of his movement. A security guard motioned for us to remain calm, but nobody searched us as we went outside.

A minute later, I drove out of the parking lot, Gunther at my side, guards shouting after me.

-

I sat on the bench. The plaza was empty, the statue of our Leader rose up behind me. I waited like I had waited three weeks ago, but this time I knew I would not wait for naught.

Stella came herself. Dorne was behind her, and he didn’t seem to enjoy having to hold back.

»What have you done?« Stella asked. She didn’t sit beside me this time. I shrugged.

»We can make this quick, or we can make it hurt, so where are the discs?«

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the CDs, and then put them on the bench beside me.

»Good. Where’s that thing you took?«

I whistled. Thunk! by thunk!, Gunther rolled from his hiding place, stopping next to me and training his guns at Dorne. Stella shook her head with a sad face. Dorne was not so calm.

»You bastard!« he shouted. »Did you think I’d come alone?« He made a gesture, and within moments six heavily armed and armored men had surrounded us, pointing their guns at Gunther and me. »I’m almost glad you did that, Harrison,« Dorne spat. »Now I’ll get to say goodbye in my own way.«

I smiled, and held out the discs to Stella. She came over and took them. She had Gwen’s face, but not her eyes. Gwen’s eyes had been my home. Stella’s eyes were wide with shock as she recognized the grubs crawling from Gunther’s carapace. I had had to take out the firing mechanisms to fit in all the grubs, and still they spilled over. Stella took a step backwards.

»Dorne, he-«

»What’s life without love?« I asked. Then, there was fire.

Something I found on the web that somehow seems to fit to the story:

http://www.jonathancarroll.com/blog/index.php

A nice looking twenty-something man was standing in the middle of the sidewalk this morning holding a bouquet of long stemmed red/orange roses. As women passed, he took individual flowers out of the bouquet and offered it to them. Not one woman accepted. I saw this from far away and so had a while to watch the process several times. Not a single woman took a flower. They either passed hurriedly, consciously not making eye contact. Or they looked at him and you could see them trying to decide whether to take it or not and what would be the consequences if they did. Old young large small-- he offered a rose to any female who passed but was always rejected.

Click to expand...

Anyway, I had this story five minutes after I looked at the pictures. Naturally, that meant I didn't start writing until Saturday night

I hope you like it.