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CERAMIC D.M. (not the current one, a year old)
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<blockquote data-quote="barsoomcore" data-source="post: 846179" data-attributes="member: 812"><p>Here's my entry for round one:</p><p></p><p>The Pigs and the God</p><p></p><p>Cool mud between his toes forced Titus Nasennius Sylvius to remember. Even as terror maintained its grip, keeping his heart frantic and his eyes wide, he couldn't repress the memories of the girl's screams. The wet sod sank beneath his sandals and more mud flowed up around his feet with each step. His dress finery clattered around him, deafening in the dawn silence.</p><p></p><p>The trees welcomed him beneath their twisted branches and Nasennius fell to his knees, turning and crawling beneath a low shrub he didn't recognize. His leg ached.</p><p></p><p>This couldn't be happening. He was going home. They'd won. This couldn't be happening. Nasennius closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. This was all wrong. The screams. The squealing.</p><p></p><p>They came up over the hill. Nasennius froze, peering through the leaves.</p><p></p><p>Four of them, two women. Nasennius wouldn't be fooled by that again. At least they weren't mounted. They did, however, seem to know just where they were going and Nasennius watched, glum, as they approached. Too late he realised he'd left a clear trail across the wet sod, mud-filled footprints all the way across the meadow. Nasennius cursed and drew his sword.</p><p></p><p>The leader, the old man with the extraordinarily long beard, stopped and looked directly where Nasennius was hiding.</p><p></p><p>"Roman, it will do you no good to flee. You are wounded and will die swiftly. Face us and we will show you the mercy you did not show my grand-daughter."</p><p></p><p>Nasennius paid no attention. He scanned the hills all around, watching carefully for any other movement. Nothing. The image of those pale, bloated things teased at his mind. He shuddered.</p><p></p><p>"You know what you deserve. We are no enemies of Rome, to be treated in this fashion. You will give up your life in exchange for the one you took."</p><p></p><p>The short woman, the one who looked enough like the dead girl to be her sister, stepped forward.</p><p></p><p>"Monster! We will find you, and we will feed you to the god!"</p><p></p><p>She stopped her rant as the old man put a hand on her shoulder.</p><p></p><p>Nasennius sobbed. Running would do no good at this point. They'd come alone. He cursed Vassinus Augendus, and shut his mind to the screaming. Enough screaming. He resigned himself to what he had to do and stood up.</p><p></p><p>They stepped back at his approach. Nasennius overdid the limp, although this group didn't look like much of a threat. They had a felling axe and a hoe between them. Nasennius still had his sword in his hand.</p><p></p><p>And they let him get into range. The short woman spent some energy spitting at him as he approached, which distracted the old man until Nasennius went into action.</p><p></p><p>An upwards stroke sent the axe flying from the young man's grip, and Nasennius spun as he cut the fellow's neck. The farmboy fell to his knees, far too concerned with flow of blood from his throat to be any further threat. Another step and the short woman took his swordpoint in her stomach. Her screech was all very well, but Nasennius was unable to tug his sword free from her body, and her second spasm yanked the weapon from his grasp.</p><p></p><p>The hoe descended and only by lunging forward was Nasennius able to avoid the sharpened blade. He drove himself into the lean woman wielding the homemade weapon and knocked her down, the hoe bouncing on the turf as he turned to the old man.</p><p></p><p>They stared at each other. The boy gurgled hoarsely. The short woman grunted. The lean woman struggled to her feet, eyes wide. The old man stared.</p><p></p><p>"Mercy, Roman."</p><p></p><p>Nasennius collapsed.</p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>His eyes opened and far too much light charged in. He realised immediately that he was bound, and squinted to make out his surroundings.</p><p></p><p>Glistening, distended shapes gleamed in early morning gold. The villagers moved among them, turning some with long poles. Nasennius shuddered and heard himself crying out. A voice cackled in his ear.</p><p></p><p>"You thought it was funny. You thought that Paullus' greed gave you the right."</p><p></p><p>Something hard cracked against his ribs.</p><p></p><p>"My daughter! My daughter, you animal!"</p><p></p><p>Murmurs then, as Nasennius groaned. Another voice, a woman.</p><p></p><p>"Here is our mercy, Roman. Epiran mercy."</p><p></p><p>He felt hands grab at him, lift him from the ground. A horrible sucking sound came from all around. Nasennius struggled.</p><p></p><p>The old man hissed, "Feed my daughter to pigs? We feed you to our gods. They will..."</p><p></p><p>The voice fell away as a slick, sickening coldness enveloped Nasennius. He tried to scream, to thrash, but the only motion he managed was a slow roll, showing him the villagers watching him with hatred in their eyes. Their shapes were strangely distorted, as though he were viewing them through water. Or clear jelly. He couldn't inhale, and yet felt no need to breath. For a second he had no idea what had just happened.</p><p></p><p>A faint burning erupted on his skin, all over, on his eyes, in his throat, between his toes where the mud had once cooled him. The mud. The pigyard, the girl's screams, the grunting of the hogs.</p><p></p><p>The old man smiled. The Roman would take days to die in the belly of the god. And they would be able to watch.</p><p></p><p>Ingredients:</p><p></p><p>Image 1: Nasennius</p><p>Image 2: The old man</p><p>Image 3: The god (ew)</p><p>Image 4: The girl and the pig (double ew)</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="barsoomcore, post: 846179, member: 812"] Here's my entry for round one: The Pigs and the God Cool mud between his toes forced Titus Nasennius Sylvius to remember. Even as terror maintained its grip, keeping his heart frantic and his eyes wide, he couldn't repress the memories of the girl's screams. The wet sod sank beneath his sandals and more mud flowed up around his feet with each step. His dress finery clattered around him, deafening in the dawn silence. The trees welcomed him beneath their twisted branches and Nasennius fell to his knees, turning and crawling beneath a low shrub he didn't recognize. His leg ached. This couldn't be happening. He was going home. They'd won. This couldn't be happening. Nasennius closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. This was all wrong. The screams. The squealing. They came up over the hill. Nasennius froze, peering through the leaves. Four of them, two women. Nasennius wouldn't be fooled by that again. At least they weren't mounted. They did, however, seem to know just where they were going and Nasennius watched, glum, as they approached. Too late he realised he'd left a clear trail across the wet sod, mud-filled footprints all the way across the meadow. Nasennius cursed and drew his sword. The leader, the old man with the extraordinarily long beard, stopped and looked directly where Nasennius was hiding. "Roman, it will do you no good to flee. You are wounded and will die swiftly. Face us and we will show you the mercy you did not show my grand-daughter." Nasennius paid no attention. He scanned the hills all around, watching carefully for any other movement. Nothing. The image of those pale, bloated things teased at his mind. He shuddered. "You know what you deserve. We are no enemies of Rome, to be treated in this fashion. You will give up your life in exchange for the one you took." The short woman, the one who looked enough like the dead girl to be her sister, stepped forward. "Monster! We will find you, and we will feed you to the god!" She stopped her rant as the old man put a hand on her shoulder. Nasennius sobbed. Running would do no good at this point. They'd come alone. He cursed Vassinus Augendus, and shut his mind to the screaming. Enough screaming. He resigned himself to what he had to do and stood up. They stepped back at his approach. Nasennius overdid the limp, although this group didn't look like much of a threat. They had a felling axe and a hoe between them. Nasennius still had his sword in his hand. And they let him get into range. The short woman spent some energy spitting at him as he approached, which distracted the old man until Nasennius went into action. An upwards stroke sent the axe flying from the young man's grip, and Nasennius spun as he cut the fellow's neck. The farmboy fell to his knees, far too concerned with flow of blood from his throat to be any further threat. Another step and the short woman took his swordpoint in her stomach. Her screech was all very well, but Nasennius was unable to tug his sword free from her body, and her second spasm yanked the weapon from his grasp. The hoe descended and only by lunging forward was Nasennius able to avoid the sharpened blade. He drove himself into the lean woman wielding the homemade weapon and knocked her down, the hoe bouncing on the turf as he turned to the old man. They stared at each other. The boy gurgled hoarsely. The short woman grunted. The lean woman struggled to her feet, eyes wide. The old man stared. "Mercy, Roman." Nasennius collapsed. ***** His eyes opened and far too much light charged in. He realised immediately that he was bound, and squinted to make out his surroundings. Glistening, distended shapes gleamed in early morning gold. The villagers moved among them, turning some with long poles. Nasennius shuddered and heard himself crying out. A voice cackled in his ear. "You thought it was funny. You thought that Paullus' greed gave you the right." Something hard cracked against his ribs. "My daughter! My daughter, you animal!" Murmurs then, as Nasennius groaned. Another voice, a woman. "Here is our mercy, Roman. Epiran mercy." He felt hands grab at him, lift him from the ground. A horrible sucking sound came from all around. Nasennius struggled. The old man hissed, "Feed my daughter to pigs? We feed you to our gods. They will..." The voice fell away as a slick, sickening coldness enveloped Nasennius. He tried to scream, to thrash, but the only motion he managed was a slow roll, showing him the villagers watching him with hatred in their eyes. Their shapes were strangely distorted, as though he were viewing them through water. Or clear jelly. He couldn't inhale, and yet felt no need to breath. For a second he had no idea what had just happened. A faint burning erupted on his skin, all over, on his eyes, in his throat, between his toes where the mud had once cooled him. The mud. The pigyard, the girl's screams, the grunting of the hogs. The old man smiled. The Roman would take days to die in the belly of the god. And they would be able to watch. Ingredients: Image 1: Nasennius Image 2: The old man Image 3: The god (ew) Image 4: The girl and the pig (double ew) [/QUOTE]
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