Ceramic DM - Spring 2005 (Late Bloomer) - We have a winner.
Speaker
First Post
I have the chance to write again! My thanks to Firelance and Hellefire for an excellent first round, and as always the judges were thourough and exhaustive in their judgements - I hope I can correct those mistakes I made and build on the strengths you have pointed out. Good luck on those tests, Hellefire.
I am ready for round two, but of course I'm even more interested in following the rest of round one as it lasts - with more stories yet to come, how could I not?
I was definetly trying for something new with my entry - it has been a while since I plied my hand at fiction, and as with my previous write-ups I think my biggest weakness was laying on a bit thick. And the beach scene was definetly underused, despite the fact that the picture itself was the one that struck me strongest initially - funny how that works.
But enough, enough - looking very much forward to round two.
I am ready for round two, but of course I'm even more interested in following the rest of round one as it lasts - with more stories yet to come, how could I not?
I was definetly trying for something new with my entry - it has been a while since I plied my hand at fiction, and as with my previous write-ups I think my biggest weakness was laying on a bit thick. And the beach scene was definetly underused, despite the fact that the picture itself was the one that struck me strongest initially - funny how that works.
But enough, enough - looking very much forward to round two.
yangnome
First Post
Destiny's Call
Destiny's Call
I tell you, it was the prettiest durn thing I ever done seen. You might say I’m crazy, or on drugs or somethin’, but it was. Hell, I’d think I’m crazy too talking about the end of the world like this an’ all, but it was. I just can’t get over the beauty….her beauty.
She came down out of the clouds; it was like watching a sunset, but in 3D, x-ray vision if you know what I mean. It was like she was right there, staring at me.
Me an’ Joe had been sitting outside drinkin’ and just passing the time, ya know. It was a hot summer day and we were out in a park, sitting and listening to nature, sitting off a dirt trail near the Johnston park bridge.
Well, Joe was in the middle of this story and off on the horizon, I seen her. Seemed like all the world stopped for me an’ time stood still. I jus’ raised from my seat an’ stared at her beauty is what I did. I ain’t never seen anything like it before in my life. I jus’ stood up from my seat an’ stared at it. I couldn’t even hear what Joe was sayin’ anymore.
As I stood there an’ watched, she came down outta the sky. At first when I seen her, she was just a small ball o’ light. But as she came closer, she got bigger an’ bigger an’ you could actually start to see her. The world around her, everything turned black, all I could see was her, an’ she was comin’ down towards me.
Well, she done come down, an’ she stood before me. I couldn’t see or hear nothing’ else around, just her. The trees and bridge behind her just faded and I couldn’t hear Joe, nor the insects that had been buzzin’ around us. Her eyes locked onto mine and they wouldn’t let go. It felt as if they was penetratin’ my soul.
She must have been more than 20 feet tall an’ made of pure light. Her wings even made her look bigger. I didn’t know whether I should speak to her or not, so I decided to do the polite thing an’ introduce myself. I opened my mouth, but the words just didn’t seem to come out.
Then she told me “Quiet Jim, I know who you are.”
I couldn’t reckon how she’d know my name already, seein’ as how we’d never met before, But I let it go. She obviously was somethin’ special an’ the way she looked at me, you could tell she knew me inside an’ out.
I stared back at her, still in awe, “Why’d you come here?”
“Be at peace Jim. I’ve come here because it is my time to come.”
Just then, a chill rushed through my bones. I didn’t know who she was, or what her purposes were, but I knew deep down that things weren’t gonna be the same after that moment. I turned and tried to run, but I couldn’t. My body felt frozen in place.
“Jim, there’s no use running. You cannot escape from me, much like the world cannot escape from its destiny.”
The words chilled my bones. “What do ya mean by that? What does the world have to do with it?”
“I have come Jim, it is my time and as such, the time of this world has come to an end.”
Needless to say, I was confused by all of this nonsense talk. I just stood there and stared her back in the face, not knowin’ what to say, or how to reply.
“Don’t be scared Jim, everything has its place and its time.”
“I ain’t scared,” I told her, “I’m just wonderin’ why you’re tellin’ me all of this.”
Her gaze penetrated me and her eyes smiled, “Because Jim, you are my messenger. You will go to the others and warn them before it is their time. You will tell them what you see here today.”
“Well, this may sound like a dumb question ma’am, but how am I supposed to tell others if the world is ending today.”
Well, then she began explaining to me the nature of the universe and all. She said that it wasn’t those of this world I had to save, but those of other worlds. Yeah, I wouldn’t have believed it either had it not come from a glowin’ angel standing in front of me.
I’d never been one to believe in aliens and other planets and such, all that was too complicated for my tastes. Plus, if there was other life out there, you think we would have found it.
I was puzzled by her explanation, and it took her awhile to explain to me in a way I could understand. The best way I can describe to you is that the universe, well, it’s got many worlds in it. The fabric of the universe is made up of time. There are many different worlds in the universe, but they all kind of run a bit differently.
The way she described it to me was kind of like a big spider web. Have you ever seen a spider’s web that’s been covered with dew, or rain? Well, you know how the water will catch on there in little balls? Well, she explained to me that that is how the universe works.
You see, there are a number of different worlds that are spanned across a big web. This web is time, or dimensions of time. Each of these worlds is very similar, yet slightly different.
Anyway these balls of water on a spider web, sometimes something happens and one falls off. There’s no real rhyme or reason to it. Sometimes the wind catches a drop, sometimes something causes it to fall. Sometimes one of the balls of water gets too heavy and it falls off.
Well the universe is kind of like that. Sometimes something happens and it is time for one of the worlds to come to an end. And that is she was there for. It was the end of the world, and she was there to deliver it.
Needless to say, my mind was spinning. I’ve always been a fairly simple person, and I’ve never really thought much about life outside of my own. The thought of the world ending, and as you can imagine, caught me by surprise.
So I ask her if there’s anything we can do to stop this. I mean, I don’t have the best life there is, but it certainly beats the alternative. Well, just then wouldn’t you know, we were interrupted.
This Oriental guy approaches us from across the bridge. He’s got a shaved head, and he’s wearing these funny robes, like those kung-fu monks you see in the movies. He doesn’t pay me much attention, instead, he starts talking to her.
He puts his hands together and bows to her, “Suriel, we have waited long for your arrival.”
The angel turned and acknowledged him; a slight grin crossed her face.
“So, you are the one who will stand against me then? You realize that there is nothing you can do to prevent destiny from taking its course. The end has already been written.”
“We will not let you bring death to this world Suriel. I have prepared my whole life for this. I will not fail to defeat you.” The monk brought his hands up in front of his torso, bladed his stance towards the angel and lowered his weight.
The angel looked back at me. A sad look then crossed her face momentarily. She then turned to face the monk.
“You know this is pointless Dongwan. I am immortal. You cannot kill me.”
The angel then turned to face him, assuming her fighting stance as well.
“If this is the only way to convince you though, then so be it.” She brought her hands up in front of her. Her wings stood almost motionless, as her feet rested on the ground.
Both of them stood there for a few moments, but it seemed like an eternity. It was the monk who finally made the first move. He lunged forward at the angel, bringing his left hand towards her in a palm heel strike.
The angel easily sidestepped the blow, maintaining her stance. The monk lunged at her again, bringing a flurry of blows towards the Angel’s torso. The angel’s wings flapped and she floated into the air, dodging the blows the monk set her way. As she went aloft, she delivered a kick to the monk’s chin.
The monk flew back from the blow of the angel’s foot, probably a distance of 30 feet. He landed on his back, but immediately rolled back up into a fighting position. The angel using her momentum flew across the sky at the monk, fists both extended towards his torso.
Before the angel could strike though, the monk brought both of his forearms in front of his chest, closed his eyes and yelled something I couldn’t understand.
The angel struck the monk so hard, you could see the force radiate from between them. The monk stood his ground though and did not move. The blow did not faze him. Instead, the monk seemed to channel the energy from the strike. He released another yell, and brought his left arm out in front of him and his right arm to his rear. In his right palm, he held the energy of the angel’s blow. He then brought his arm forward and plunged the energy deep into the angel’s chest.
The angel fell back from this strike, though her wings kept her from falling to the ground. She shook her head, trying to clear it and focused her attention back on the monk.
The monk was already moving back towards the angel. He almost seemed to run above the ground, up some sort of steps I could not see. He threw a roundhouse kick at the angel, while ducking her fist. As he ducked, her wingtip caught him in the face. He lost his concentration and fell back to the ground below her.
The monk, quickly rolled out of the way, as the angel began a feet first dive towards where he had landed. He narrowly escaped his blow. The earth shook and the ground crumbled where her feet struck the ground. He took another kick at her, striking her in the knee. She began to fall forwards from the blow, but her wings caught her balance, and once again, she was aloft.
Her feet fluttered in front of him, delivering three rapid blows across his chest, neck and face. He stumbled back from the blows, a bit stunned.
“You will not defeat me Suriel. I have trained too long and too hard. You are strong, but so is my mind. It is not yet time for this world to pass.”
“You fool! For all your studying, don’t you realize that there is nothing you can do to stop it? You are tied to destiny, just as I am.”
The monk maintained his stance, watching and waiting for her to make another move.
“You expect me to sit here and allow this to pass then?”
Suriel then lunged at the monk, with both of her palms open, heels of her palms together. The monk sidestepped her blow, and delivered his own to her back. The angel flew forward; her momentum carried her into the ground.
She rolled over onto her back. Before she could bring herself to stand, the monk was in the air over her, raining down another kick. The sky seemed to bend around him. His yell pierced my ears. He came down on top of her, and he delivered a kick so strong that it drove her straight into the ground. Certainly it would have been enough to kill a normal man like you or me.
The earth shook with his kick, harder than I’ve ever felt it shake before. I looked around for something to grab onto, but couldn’t find anything. Now, I’ve been through a few earthquakes before, but this was much stronger than that, and it lasted longer too. But after the shaking, another sensation overcame me. It felt like I was falling.
It was then that the rest of the world came back into view for me. A thick frost began covering everything around us, the trees, the bridge, everything.
The angel then stood up from where she lay, and a tear fell down her cheek. She looked at the monk. He had the look of terror in his eyes.
“You cannot escape, or prevent destiny Dongwan. Instead, your arrogance brought about what you had hoped to prevent.”
The angel then grabbed hold of me, and we flew up into the sky. A brief moment later, I saw a what looked like spider’s web up above us There were hundreds of small little bubbles of water, all reflecting back an image of us, but each one was distorted a little bit different. Some were big, and some were small.
I looked down and saw another droplet of water. It was falling toward the void. A moment later, it split apart and I couldn’t see it anymore.
The next thing I remember, I woke up here. As you can imagine, I’ve got no place to go. No one I can rely on. I’m still not really sure what my mission is here in this life, but I imagine it has something to do with telling this story. We can’t avoid our destiny and I guess this one is mine. I’m a bit hungry though. Any chance you could spare a dollar brother?
In case of formatting issues (OK for judges to read):
[sblock] I have Asian fonts and IMEs on my computer that sometimes will show up in a document or a post on a message board. It doesn't matter whether I create the document in a text file, the post block or not. It just seems to show up. I cannot tell ahead of time whether or not it will happen on a post of not, and cannot see it myself. Instead, I see glitches in other people's posts.
I have tried for years to correct this problem, but haven't found a solution. In case there is a problem reading this, I have attached a text file with the original story. Hopefully the problem will not show up there. Sorry if this creates any inconvenience for anyone.[/sblock]
Destiny's Call
I tell you, it was the prettiest durn thing I ever done seen. You might say I’m crazy, or on drugs or somethin’, but it was. Hell, I’d think I’m crazy too talking about the end of the world like this an’ all, but it was. I just can’t get over the beauty….her beauty.
She came down out of the clouds; it was like watching a sunset, but in 3D, x-ray vision if you know what I mean. It was like she was right there, staring at me.
Me an’ Joe had been sitting outside drinkin’ and just passing the time, ya know. It was a hot summer day and we were out in a park, sitting and listening to nature, sitting off a dirt trail near the Johnston park bridge.
Well, Joe was in the middle of this story and off on the horizon, I seen her. Seemed like all the world stopped for me an’ time stood still. I jus’ raised from my seat an’ stared at her beauty is what I did. I ain’t never seen anything like it before in my life. I jus’ stood up from my seat an’ stared at it. I couldn’t even hear what Joe was sayin’ anymore.
As I stood there an’ watched, she came down outta the sky. At first when I seen her, she was just a small ball o’ light. But as she came closer, she got bigger an’ bigger an’ you could actually start to see her. The world around her, everything turned black, all I could see was her, an’ she was comin’ down towards me.
Well, she done come down, an’ she stood before me. I couldn’t see or hear nothing’ else around, just her. The trees and bridge behind her just faded and I couldn’t hear Joe, nor the insects that had been buzzin’ around us. Her eyes locked onto mine and they wouldn’t let go. It felt as if they was penetratin’ my soul.
She must have been more than 20 feet tall an’ made of pure light. Her wings even made her look bigger. I didn’t know whether I should speak to her or not, so I decided to do the polite thing an’ introduce myself. I opened my mouth, but the words just didn’t seem to come out.
Then she told me “Quiet Jim, I know who you are.”
I couldn’t reckon how she’d know my name already, seein’ as how we’d never met before, But I let it go. She obviously was somethin’ special an’ the way she looked at me, you could tell she knew me inside an’ out.
I stared back at her, still in awe, “Why’d you come here?”
“Be at peace Jim. I’ve come here because it is my time to come.”
Just then, a chill rushed through my bones. I didn’t know who she was, or what her purposes were, but I knew deep down that things weren’t gonna be the same after that moment. I turned and tried to run, but I couldn’t. My body felt frozen in place.
“Jim, there’s no use running. You cannot escape from me, much like the world cannot escape from its destiny.”
The words chilled my bones. “What do ya mean by that? What does the world have to do with it?”
“I have come Jim, it is my time and as such, the time of this world has come to an end.”
Needless to say, I was confused by all of this nonsense talk. I just stood there and stared her back in the face, not knowin’ what to say, or how to reply.
“Don’t be scared Jim, everything has its place and its time.”
“I ain’t scared,” I told her, “I’m just wonderin’ why you’re tellin’ me all of this.”
Her gaze penetrated me and her eyes smiled, “Because Jim, you are my messenger. You will go to the others and warn them before it is their time. You will tell them what you see here today.”
“Well, this may sound like a dumb question ma’am, but how am I supposed to tell others if the world is ending today.”
Well, then she began explaining to me the nature of the universe and all. She said that it wasn’t those of this world I had to save, but those of other worlds. Yeah, I wouldn’t have believed it either had it not come from a glowin’ angel standing in front of me.
I’d never been one to believe in aliens and other planets and such, all that was too complicated for my tastes. Plus, if there was other life out there, you think we would have found it.
I was puzzled by her explanation, and it took her awhile to explain to me in a way I could understand. The best way I can describe to you is that the universe, well, it’s got many worlds in it. The fabric of the universe is made up of time. There are many different worlds in the universe, but they all kind of run a bit differently.
The way she described it to me was kind of like a big spider web. Have you ever seen a spider’s web that’s been covered with dew, or rain? Well, you know how the water will catch on there in little balls? Well, she explained to me that that is how the universe works.
You see, there are a number of different worlds that are spanned across a big web. This web is time, or dimensions of time. Each of these worlds is very similar, yet slightly different.
Anyway these balls of water on a spider web, sometimes something happens and one falls off. There’s no real rhyme or reason to it. Sometimes the wind catches a drop, sometimes something causes it to fall. Sometimes one of the balls of water gets too heavy and it falls off.
Well the universe is kind of like that. Sometimes something happens and it is time for one of the worlds to come to an end. And that is she was there for. It was the end of the world, and she was there to deliver it.
Needless to say, my mind was spinning. I’ve always been a fairly simple person, and I’ve never really thought much about life outside of my own. The thought of the world ending, and as you can imagine, caught me by surprise.
So I ask her if there’s anything we can do to stop this. I mean, I don’t have the best life there is, but it certainly beats the alternative. Well, just then wouldn’t you know, we were interrupted.
This Oriental guy approaches us from across the bridge. He’s got a shaved head, and he’s wearing these funny robes, like those kung-fu monks you see in the movies. He doesn’t pay me much attention, instead, he starts talking to her.
He puts his hands together and bows to her, “Suriel, we have waited long for your arrival.”
The angel turned and acknowledged him; a slight grin crossed her face.
“So, you are the one who will stand against me then? You realize that there is nothing you can do to prevent destiny from taking its course. The end has already been written.”
“We will not let you bring death to this world Suriel. I have prepared my whole life for this. I will not fail to defeat you.” The monk brought his hands up in front of his torso, bladed his stance towards the angel and lowered his weight.
The angel looked back at me. A sad look then crossed her face momentarily. She then turned to face the monk.
“You know this is pointless Dongwan. I am immortal. You cannot kill me.”
The angel then turned to face him, assuming her fighting stance as well.
“If this is the only way to convince you though, then so be it.” She brought her hands up in front of her. Her wings stood almost motionless, as her feet rested on the ground.
Both of them stood there for a few moments, but it seemed like an eternity. It was the monk who finally made the first move. He lunged forward at the angel, bringing his left hand towards her in a palm heel strike.
The angel easily sidestepped the blow, maintaining her stance. The monk lunged at her again, bringing a flurry of blows towards the Angel’s torso. The angel’s wings flapped and she floated into the air, dodging the blows the monk set her way. As she went aloft, she delivered a kick to the monk’s chin.
The monk flew back from the blow of the angel’s foot, probably a distance of 30 feet. He landed on his back, but immediately rolled back up into a fighting position. The angel using her momentum flew across the sky at the monk, fists both extended towards his torso.
Before the angel could strike though, the monk brought both of his forearms in front of his chest, closed his eyes and yelled something I couldn’t understand.
The angel struck the monk so hard, you could see the force radiate from between them. The monk stood his ground though and did not move. The blow did not faze him. Instead, the monk seemed to channel the energy from the strike. He released another yell, and brought his left arm out in front of him and his right arm to his rear. In his right palm, he held the energy of the angel’s blow. He then brought his arm forward and plunged the energy deep into the angel’s chest.
The angel fell back from this strike, though her wings kept her from falling to the ground. She shook her head, trying to clear it and focused her attention back on the monk.
The monk was already moving back towards the angel. He almost seemed to run above the ground, up some sort of steps I could not see. He threw a roundhouse kick at the angel, while ducking her fist. As he ducked, her wingtip caught him in the face. He lost his concentration and fell back to the ground below her.
The monk, quickly rolled out of the way, as the angel began a feet first dive towards where he had landed. He narrowly escaped his blow. The earth shook and the ground crumbled where her feet struck the ground. He took another kick at her, striking her in the knee. She began to fall forwards from the blow, but her wings caught her balance, and once again, she was aloft.
Her feet fluttered in front of him, delivering three rapid blows across his chest, neck and face. He stumbled back from the blows, a bit stunned.
“You will not defeat me Suriel. I have trained too long and too hard. You are strong, but so is my mind. It is not yet time for this world to pass.”
“You fool! For all your studying, don’t you realize that there is nothing you can do to stop it? You are tied to destiny, just as I am.”
The monk maintained his stance, watching and waiting for her to make another move.
“You expect me to sit here and allow this to pass then?”
Suriel then lunged at the monk, with both of her palms open, heels of her palms together. The monk sidestepped her blow, and delivered his own to her back. The angel flew forward; her momentum carried her into the ground.
She rolled over onto her back. Before she could bring herself to stand, the monk was in the air over her, raining down another kick. The sky seemed to bend around him. His yell pierced my ears. He came down on top of her, and he delivered a kick so strong that it drove her straight into the ground. Certainly it would have been enough to kill a normal man like you or me.
The earth shook with his kick, harder than I’ve ever felt it shake before. I looked around for something to grab onto, but couldn’t find anything. Now, I’ve been through a few earthquakes before, but this was much stronger than that, and it lasted longer too. But after the shaking, another sensation overcame me. It felt like I was falling.
It was then that the rest of the world came back into view for me. A thick frost began covering everything around us, the trees, the bridge, everything.
The angel then stood up from where she lay, and a tear fell down her cheek. She looked at the monk. He had the look of terror in his eyes.
“You cannot escape, or prevent destiny Dongwan. Instead, your arrogance brought about what you had hoped to prevent.”
The angel then grabbed hold of me, and we flew up into the sky. A brief moment later, I saw a what looked like spider’s web up above us There were hundreds of small little bubbles of water, all reflecting back an image of us, but each one was distorted a little bit different. Some were big, and some were small.
I looked down and saw another droplet of water. It was falling toward the void. A moment later, it split apart and I couldn’t see it anymore.
The next thing I remember, I woke up here. As you can imagine, I’ve got no place to go. No one I can rely on. I’m still not really sure what my mission is here in this life, but I imagine it has something to do with telling this story. We can’t avoid our destiny and I guess this one is mine. I’m a bit hungry though. Any chance you could spare a dollar brother?
In case of formatting issues (OK for judges to read):
[sblock] I have Asian fonts and IMEs on my computer that sometimes will show up in a document or a post on a message board. It doesn't matter whether I create the document in a text file, the post block or not. It just seems to show up. I cannot tell ahead of time whether or not it will happen on a post of not, and cannot see it myself. Instead, I see glitches in other people's posts.
I have tried for years to correct this problem, but haven't found a solution. In case there is a problem reading this, I have attached a text file with the original story. Hopefully the problem will not show up there. Sorry if this creates any inconvenience for anyone.[/sblock]
Herremann the Wise
First Post
Ceramic DM Spring 2005 (Late Bloomer)
Round 1, Match 3: yangnome vs. RangerWickett vs. Herremann the Wise
I have labelled the pictures - Picture 1, Picture 2,... as they appeared in BSF's posting.
Altogether, not including labels and breaks {***}: 4,999 words.
I hope you enjoy.
Of Power and Peace
Introduction
For those who insist that they need to have a little background information…
Our story takes place in The Land of the Three Realms within a crumbling empire that has slowly eroded over several centuries to a number of provincial territories. The Great War with the Northern Barbarians was almost forty years in the past yet still there was no firm resolution - just an exhausted cessation of hostilities as the Empire journeyed inwards towards conflict and collapse. However, the portended end of the empire could be nigh as the Barbarians unleash a power beyond imagination - once again they have discovered like their ancient forefathers before them, the secrets of dragonflight.
This story concerns the journey of Orrolo, a young man of the Empire who wishes for peace between the two realms. He is sent on a secret journey to garner the alliance of an old wizard of barbarian heritage deep within the misty and mountainous border between the two regions. He is then to travel to the heart of the barbarian land with the wizard as a guide to deliver a gift and message to the King of the barbarians - hopefully, something of enough significance to engender a fragile genesis of peace.
However, all is not quite as simple as it seems. Orrolo of the Empire must endure the arrogance of his elder cousin's attempts to hijack the mission for his own pride and ends. Not only this, but the barbarian wizard who is the linchpin of the mission has no love at all for the Imperials. Worse however, he was a prisoner of the Great War who magically escaped the clutches of the Emperor. Gaining his favour would seem impossible: for any... except for perhaps Orrolo of the Minsuno.
In one of the small outer provinces of the Empire inside the family temple of Minsuno, an argument ensues between the Lorus (spiritual leader) of the House and E’dhanus the arrogant second son and princeling of the Minsuno Patriarch…
“But he is your cousin and family. Besides which he like you is fated for this mission and as such his participation is not for your choice or choosing.”
“The lad is but a stripling! Why dilute the glory of this mission that by rights should be mine!”
The raging E’dhanus, second in line to the family throne felt the hot fire of his blood course through his defined and arrogant veins. He had just been informed that his younger cousin Orrolo would not only be present for the secret mission to hunt down the barbarian wizard Bazreth, but he would then also be a key member of the ensuing delegation to the barbarian King. For one filled with the rigid pride of Minsuno, it was a poor and odious decision.
The Lorus however looked on unaroused by E’dhanus’s temper, the soft scent and peace of the candlelight within the small sacred auditorium assisting her in maintaining a semblance of tranquillity.
“I am disappointed you feel that the glory you might earn on a quest you are still yet to begin is the primary issue. If I were you, I would concentrate more on the expedition at hand. If you feel that the wizard Bazreth will open his doors to you and welcome you with honour and friendship, I suggest reassessing your delusions. As for your cousin whom may I remind you is of the blood of Minsuno, I firmly ask you to recast your judgment. How long has it been since you have truly seen Orrolo? Four…maybe five years? In this matter, you lack all prescience.”
E’dhanus’s stony face clenched in held rage at the diminutive woman; his shaved head revealing creased tension upon his bitter features as if by sheer size and impact of presence, he could force a change in the mind of the slight woman. Again, she seemed unperturbed. The crisp tone of a small bell distracted his ripening retort as he swung around, the Lorus glancing towards the wood-framed entrance as well.
“Your cousin has arrived. I strongly suggest you make him feel welcome,” said the Lorus in a low even voice – the hint of a hidden smile momentarily gracing her lips.
For Orrolo, the weeklong journey from his father’s town of Goria had been uneventful although the full force of a hard, bitter winter was evident as the last small vestige of autumn was frozen from the countryside. He now waited patiently behind the ceremonial entrance to the Hall of the Mother, looking carefully to the attendant who was waiting for some unseen or hidden signal. Orrolo’s pure gaze through blue eyes – his mother’s unusual heritage – gave him a look of youth, yet strangely wisdom as well. His clear and handsome features looked up as the sweet sound of a small bell rang clearly and with distinction in the cold afternoon air. The doorway’s custodian politely opened the door before permitting Orrolo’s entry.
Orrolo moved inside; his compact, sturdy yet graceful frame bowing to the Lorus and his cousin the Prince according to the strict dictates of etiquette and decorum. Despite having heard the majority of E’dhanus’s earlier tirade against him, a smile broached his face as he looked upon the granite silence of his cousin. There was no point in making a poor situation worse.
The Lorus stepped forward as several retainers assisted her with her ceremonial robes. A beacon of magnificence despite her slight stature, she received the newcomer warmly.
“Welcome young master. Your arrival is most timely.” She glanced carefully at the stony faced E’dhanus before continuing despite the prince’s breach of etiquette. “I trust your journey was swift and without incident?”
Orrolo lifted from his genuflected position and answered carefully. “Greetings Mother Lorus and to you too Prince E’dhanus. There were several interesting happenings but nothing of great consequence. I am here now with only a few scratches, ready to serve your wishes good Mother.”
“Bah!” blurted E’dhanus, unable to hold his tongue a moment longer. “Be ready and upon your pony by the dawn’s bell otherwise I will be leaving without you.”
And with this he stormed off to much rustling amongst the various attendants, replete now with fresh gossip. The Lorus looked at the prince’s dramatic exit with a wearied sigh before returning her attention to Orrolo.
“He is stubborn and more a fool. But he is the Prince and his fate is cast amongst the stars above.”
Orrolo just shook his head in shared sympathy with the woman who had helped raise him before ascending to the position of the Patriarch’s Lorus.
Looking over to the exit leading above to the temple observatory she added, “Ah… come and walk with me Orrolo as there are things afoot and things you must know before leaving upon this special mission.”
Several servitors adjusted her ceremonial dress as she took Orrolo by the arm and lead him upstairs.
The upper level of the Minsuno Temple encompassed a single large and open roofed room set aside for observing the stars and celestials; its simple yet dramatic architecture causing Orrolo to pause at its beauty. The Lorus pointed above to a series of constellations of astrological significance beside the twin planet Iriadeus.
“The stars following their strange orbits tell me many things young Orrolo… although the path I wish you to take, I cannot augur with any success. Come. Sit with me.”
Orrolo sat.
“The time has come to return to the Barbarians what is rightfully theirs. They know it is within the Empire somewhere and they will keep returning their attention to us until they have it. I hope and believe that by gifting it back to them, it will sway their attention and interest away from the lands of the Empire. The Empire needs time for its chance to heal. Otherwise it cannot but implode upon its own weight. With the Barbarians likely to focus here once more with some new power beyond my divining, time is dreadfully short. While many would consider this gift a sign of weakness, wisdom guides me towards this path as a last resort.”
Orrolo listened carefully.
“I need you to journey to a place upon the border where I have divined that an old enemy lives. The wizard Bazreth was held prisoner by the Emperor himself for almost seven years, pinned to a dungeon wall. Through magic beyond our understanding, he eventually escaped and retreated far far away. I need you to find him and show him the gift, as he will know what to do with it. In fact without his help, the entire gesture will be of no use. He knows the secret behind this gift… or at least has the power to divine it.”
Orrolo leaned forward as the Mother Lorus continued.
“We need to sway Bazreth to this endeavour. However, be warned. Bazreth obviously shares no love for the Empire although I hope you can convince him otherwise.”
The Lorus stood up and looked directly at the young man who she had fostered so many years ago. “Orrolo, you are special in some way beyond my understanding and to this task, I wish for your help and assistance despite your cousin’s best efforts. While he is strong in the ways of battle and a powerful leader of men, he is weak in the soul. Your rich spirit however I can almost sense as you sit here with me now.”
She ventured then towards a wall, which opened unbidden before her to reveal a small altar in front of a colourful reredos. Upon the altar laid a small tabernacle that she opened with a sweep of her hand. A shallow luminescence was cast from the slight box dancing across the Lorus’s features in what almost seemed incandescent joy. She closed it once more bringing it over to Orrolo. Bending down, she pressed it gently into his hands.
“We will talk this evening about preparations for your journey as you must have a thousand questions. For now though, I just wish to talk to my foster son.”
They spoke long into the night.
About a month later upon a track deep within the mountains, the coldness of the winter is augmented by the sullen demeanour of E’dhanus, having recently discovered and forced his cousin to relinquish the gold box…
The journey had been difficult.
Orrolo walked his pony up the chill path, several lengths behind E’dhanus’s gelding. While the journey deep into the mountain border had been relatively peaceful in terms of attack from the mountains native population, there had been several instances of conflict between the two cousins. Orrolo had found himself quickly assigned as E’dhanus’s personal servant much to his displeasure. While he had warned E’dhanus of the words of the Mother Lorus, E’dhanus was quick to dismiss her intentions and replace them with his own.
“The wizard will see that I as the senior member of this expedition am the person to discuss and entreat with. There is no point confusing him with additional input.”
Orrolo tried to conceive of how to confuse a wizard but could not. He saw too well through his cousin’s brash arrogance and as such merely hoped to mop up any gaffe that was sure to be issued from his mouth. While he had respect for his cousin in terms of being a Prince of the Minsuno and he would defend him, he knew in his mind that his allegiance must be to the dire mission foremost and his foolish cousin second. E’dhanus continued on ahead oblivious to Orrolo’s thoughts upon priority.
It was not too much past this point that Orrolo sensed a change in the immediate surroundings; something subtle and intangible.
“Cousin? Do you…”
Orrolo was stopped by E’dhanus twirling around upon his mount, anger clear upon his features.
“Sir,” Orrolo corrected, eliciting a grunt of satisfaction from his cousin, “Do you sense a change in the vicinity? Has the weather become… less oppressive?”
E’dhanus looked around obviously ignorant to what his cousin was sensing.
“What foolishness are you talking about, the trees still stand bereft of their leaves and my feet still sit frozen in my boots.”
Orrolo shrugged his shoulders as they continued onwards. The path meandered upon a flatter section before coming to a partially frozen creek, crowned by a small bridge crossing it. [Picture 2]
“Are you sure you don’t feel that?”
“Yes I’m damn well…”
E’dhanus’s harsh rejoinder was interrupted by a booming voice inside their heads.
“Leave trespassers… NOW if you value your lives. Cross my bridge and you will feel my wrath!”
Orrolo halted immediately while his cousin the Prince straightened, his attitude automatically attuning itself to one of arrogant defiance. He pushed his pony towards the seemingly innocent bridge unheeding. Orrolo was about to warn E’dhanus to stop but a hazy mist appeared upon the bridge. Stepping out from the captured fog was a tall man unlike any Orrolo had seen before. Black of skin with mercurial features, the aged and bearded man, robed in deepest blue looked upon the moving E’dhanus astride his small pony. In a deep resonant voice different from the one earlier, the man attempted to halt the Prince.
“Please good sir, do not come closer as my master is currently occupied with his own endeavours. Surely you have heard his warning and so please… do not force him from his current focus.”
E’dhanus slowed his pony and hurriedly assayed the most convenient protocol for the situation.
“We have need of your master’s services. Take us to him for we have travelled too far to be stopped and delayed by an underling.’
The robed man seemed untroubled by E’dhanus’s manner and could not help but elicit a small chuckle at the man’s supercilious assumptions. “My master would fail to appreciate such an exhaustive distance. Again; go and please do not intrude upon his current exercises.”
Unfortunately, E’dhanus once more failed to grasp the tenor of the message and launched himself from the gelding but several spans away from the bridge. With the black man’s cloak billowing around him, E’dhanus thought to sway the servant through threat and force. The response of Bazreth, Grand Wizard of the Northern Kingdom was instantaneous. The mist behind the robed man spiralled and twirled, immediately coalescing into a gigantic bearded face. The face looked down at the now stopped Prince, anger firmly upon its features. The fog extended, instantly forming an outstretched arm as power emanated directly from the pointing hand.
A rippling of shadow thundered down forming a vertical plane of force. The thin expanse of magic coursed towards E’dhanus jolting him skyward as shock finally registered upon his features. [Picture 3] Banishing him ever skyward, the force suddenly consumed his essence in a violent coruscation of exploded colours. The Prince was gone. Orrolo, stunned by the incredible display of power looked on in horror as the face found his position, its expression unchanged. The hand reached out once more.
A month earlier, deep within the misted mountains lying between the border of the fracturing Empire and the Northern Kingdom in the deepest part of the night, a very special spider spins its web…
Bazreth looked on carefully.
The evergreen glade surrounding his gabled manse was dominated by a clear shallow lake of stunning effect in the evening light. The magic surrounding the glade held it in a temperate spring throughout the year with only the crispness of air to indicate the winter beyond. Bazreth, his rheumatic podgy fingers grasping a night pipe bereft of further intoxicants, leaned forward upon a small porch as he saw the small creature begin to spin and slide around the branches just beyond its home.
Like its entire and most unusual breed and species, the solar dew spider lived tightly inside a curled leaf before eventually journeying out to spin its delicate masterpiece. Using senses and perceptions beyond understanding of even the great mages of yore, it was able to cast its web according to the weight and position of the celestial bodies of the cosmos. Carefully throughout the night, it would traverse its web mimicking the exact and precise positioning of the celestials of astrological significance. With its ultimate performance finished, the tiny spider would then crawl back to its leafy home to expire; its life’s work as it were a final gift to the mortal realm.
Bazreth had kept this spider for what must almost be twenty years – many times it had threatened to venture from its leafy home but never for more than the light sustenance making up its requirements. Perhaps it had been the cool seasonal breeze that had set it upon its final path or perchance the celestials were in a position of import filling the small creature with an impossible impulse and desire? Bazreth looked upon the careful work of the spider, sighing as he pondered such thoughts. Filled with a giddy excitement yet at the same time a deepening sadness, he could not sleep but instead, Bazreth: one of the last wizards in the three Realms paid homage to his tiny friend of so many years as it travelled upon its final prophetic journey.
By the morning, Bazreth had slipped into a semi-aware doze as the dew-touched web glistened with magnificence from the sun’s reflected rays off of the massive twin planet of Iriadeus high above. Saddened by the passing of his small friend, he looked carefully at the amazing work and masterpiece of the spider. Stretching over numerous hands of distance, Bazreth looked up and across at the constellation marking that of the Three Realms. [Picture 4]
At first, there were a few points of interest, such as the Tanesin constellation in periodaxis with The Ghost of Eddin. However, something further clasped his attention casting a brittle sense of unease between his broad but old shoulders. With a quick inspection at the various Gallicean termini represented at the luminous poles of the entire system, a hollow, prescient impulse of foreboding buried itself directly into his stomach. Was it fear he felt that the stony implacable wheels of destruction were in motion once more?
Bazreth carefully considered his next move.
At the bridge forming the entrance to Bazreth’s domain and glade, the gigantic magical face looks down upon Orrolo, about to smite him from the mortal realm…
Bazreth’s misty hand gathered power around it, ready to strike down the other intruder. However, something stayed his hand as the arcane sight provided by the mist magic sensed a strange aura about the little man on the other side of the bridge. The magic upon the hand slowly evaporated.
“Why do you wish to intrude upon my attention, young mortal?” intoned Bazreth, the change in attitude momentarily jarring Orrolo from his terrified semblance. Unsure of whether he was prolonging his existence or not, Orrolo answered with complete honesty.
“I, Orrolo of the Minsuno have been sent here master wizard by the Lorus of our family to seek your aid in attempting to dissuade the North from war with the Empire.”
“And what makes you think that I would want to stop them? Is your Lorus a fool?”
“No, no”, said Orrolo urgently. “She is very wise and wishes to offer them a gift. Something they have been searching for that is the source of their ire with the Empire.”
Orrolo looked up as the mist and fog of the face started unswirling. The wizard seemed to have reached some form of decision; Orrolo thought he saw some measure of curiosity in the face before it completely dissipated. The voice was heard in his head once more but without the dramatic volume of former announcements. “Moses, bring young Orrolo here to me in the glade. His statements shed an unusual light on our friend’s final message.”
Moses nodded, obviously having heard the same communication and so with a smile, he beckoned Orrolo across as he clucked to the two ponies that had scampered from the magical path. Orrolo looked back to where he thought he saw something momentarily glisten in the sky above. He did not know that it was the final wisp of his cousin’s spirit leaving the realm and cosmos.
Orrolo looked on at the magical glade of Bazreth in wonder and amazement. The brewing of some strange refreshment awaited near his fingertips as he sat opposite the daunting form of Bazreth the Wizard. Also upon the table directly in front of the wizard was the tabernacle, opened and radiating the same glow upon his face that Orrolo had seen before. From his perspective, he could not see inside the small box.
Bazreth was dressed in delicate robes of white, unsoiled or marked. His bearded face seemed to focus heavily as his lips curled downwards in concentration before being released in slight surprise.
“Do you know of this… thing young Orrolo?” said the wizard looking up earnestly at the unassuming young man.
“No sir. I was told that you would understand its significance.”
Bazreth’s lips curled in a short bark of laughter. “Your Lorus has a greater faith in me than perhaps I deserve”, he said looking back down at the item inside the box. “The symbols I can understand and certain revelations given to me a month ago seem to be a little clearer now because of them. However, I can only speculate as to why she would wish to give such a gift to the King of the North. Perhaps there is some wisdom here beyond even my understanding.”
Orrolo, still unnerved but surprisingly not affected by his cousin’s harsh and foolish demise at the hands of the wizard, looked across at the small box. He could not constrain his curiosity any longer. “So… what actually is it? Is it some type of magic?”
“Yes… magic it is”, said Bazreth distractedly as he concentrated upon certain runes. Then all of a sudden he looked up, “No. I mean yes its magic but no… that’s not what the gift is. It’s held in a parcel of magic, bound together by great power. The gift itself according to the runes however, is something mundane… if exceedingly special in it’s own right.” He closed the box.
“Come Orrolo…Moses”, he yelled. The blue robed man with the black skin appeared almost instantly as if expecting the summons. Moses looked down at Orrolo and then over at his master.
“You know the preparations I have been making Moses?” questioned the wizard. “I believe now is the time my friend.”
Moses looked around the glade, taking in the surroundings. He had known the wizard for what must be almost forty years. Sharing a dank cell as prisoners can force a bond between people tighter and stronger than that of any family thought Moses, pondering his relationship with the wizard. He looked back at Bazreth, his toothy grin splitting his face. “I guess that means we’re going home sir.” It was more statement than question.
“Yes Moses, we’re going home.”
And with this and by morning, Bazreth looked around for the final time at the magical glade that had been his temporary home for so long. The portent of the solar dew spider weighed heavily upon his mind. It was time to go.
After a month travelling from the compressions of the mountainous terrain to the low arid wastes of the outer realm of the Northern Kingdom, a sight beyond imagination is seen…
The journey had been eventful with several interesting exchanges between Bazreth and some of the stranger denizens of the wastes. Orrolo of the Minsuno had assisted here and there with eloquent grace with the blade but such efforts were perhaps of less consequence, with Bazreth not wishing to expunge his power upon some creature of minimal threat. At this moment though, framed by the massive twin planet of Iriadeus behind him, Moses through slightly misted eyes looked up and to the far horizon [Picture 1]. Silhouetted by the setting sun was the breathtaking beauty of a dragon and her riders; the magnificence of the sight turned Moses eyes from awe to the crinkled tension of fear and then terror. The beast was headed directly towards them.
Bazreth, who was just behind the enigmatic Moses, saw the threat, raised his staff and countered it with significant magic and power. A dome of force suddenly surrounded the group, the twinkling of evanescent reflections coursing its breadth. The pure majesty of the dragon was evident as it circled around Bazreth’s magic. Almost the size of the Minsuno temple, the wings spread out gloriously as it glided in a single massive sweep. Orrolo looked at Bazreth, his outstretched staff holding the glassy shield in place. Turning back to the terrifying creature, Orrolo saw its low flight stutter as its wings suddenly swept up and its legs extended. The earth around them shuddered as the beast lowered itself and its riders to the ground.
The foremost rider stood high on top of the creatures raised neck, just behind its head. His frame was encased in black metal, a lance couched at his hip and a sword hilted on his left. In a thin voice barely penetrating the shield he shouted.
“Who travels here in the Dragon Realm?”
Bazreth having forced a parley of sorts cancelled the powerful magic. Looking up to the rider and with his most powerful and distinctive voice, he answered back, “My name is Bazreth as your father would have told you and his father before him. I am the last Grand Wizard of the North… and I am coming home.”
The dragon looked down unsettled, obviously able to understand some of the wizard’s speech. Meanwhile, the riders having reached some unspoken consensus climbed down, caution upon their faces but to a certain degree, awe and reverence as well. Looking upon the old wizard of the North, they both prostrated in supplication touching their heads to the ground.
Orrolo looked at the wizard in surprise as Bazreth smiled back at him, a twinkle in his eye.
“We have need to speak to the King on important diplomatic matters. I assume you can be taking us to his seat at Drammen Castle?” Bazreth asked pointing towards the conveying framework upon the dragon’s back. “I have someone I would wish him to meet.”
And with this, the group saw the world unlike how they had ever seen it before, the arid wastes giving way to hills, dales, forests and spectacular rivers and waterfalls. The beauty of the Northern Kingdom swept all to briefly beneath the dragon’s mighty wings.
***
In the Hall of the Barbarian King some time later…
A certain level of excitement pervaded the Drammen throne room as news was garnered of the imminent return of the last Grand Wizard of their age. Light flowed through the magnificent windowed arches caught inside by the dizzyingly high multi-domed ceiling. The pageantry of banners from all five dragonclans was present, each being carried by servants shadowing the first riders of each clan. With the King majestic upon his raised and mighty throne, all looked to the massive entry foyer as the King’s Bell sounded from the pinnacle of the tower immediately adjacent to the sweeping hall.
The appearance of Bazreth, robed in cloth of the finest weave drew an intake of breath from the noble crowd, highlighted by the magical ball providing illumination from several spans above the wizards head. Several mutterings however were heard as questions abounded amongst the throng. Directly behind Bazreth was a robed dark-skinned man from the far North but alongside of him was the slight stature of a Southerner.
What was an Imperial doing as part of an honoured procession to the King? Several exclamations could even be heard questioning the lack of restraint upon the free-walking Southerner. The King however, radiating the power of rulership seemed neither surprised nor in ire of the man. Unbeknownst to the nobles crowding the Drammen throne room, several meetings had already ensued between the men present. The King of the North was in fact most impressed, not only with Orrolo of the Minsuno but also with the gifts and agreements that had been bargained under the guidance of the returned Grand Wizard.
As the procession advanced to the King’s immediate presence, there was a hush as the King spoke.
“Welcome Grand Wizard and Orrolo Minsuno, delegate of the Minsuno Province.” With bows from the processionists, the King continued. “May I announce the signing of a treaty between the Minsuno Province and that of the Kingdom promising peace and cooperation for hopefully many years to come? In kindness, they have seen fit to return something priceless to our Kingdom of the North. Grand Wizard Bazreth… if you would do the honours please with your arcane touch?”
Hushed whispers of excitement swirled through the masses as Bazreth placed a small gold box upon the ceremonial altar to the side of the throne. With a slight motioning of his open hand, the lid opened. Carefully, he then pulled out a strange floating and glowing device made of perfect gold and round in aspect; a smattering of strange runes etched into its surface. Again there was a casting of magic where the gold device and something else seemed to coexist a hand above the opened container. Having finished the transformation, a perfect and massive egg hovered in suspension above the Minsuno tabernacle. However, it was no normal egg as its shade was that of purest crimson. It was the last male dragon egg in existence. With only five dragon-does left in the kingdom, it augured that the Dragons would truly fly again once more.
And so ends this tale, as Kuroku Minsuno closes the dragon-embossed Book of Legends for his young son the Prince, having read him the story of how his great grandfather Orrolo found peace for the Empire; garnered by giving Its ancient enemy the true weapon and power to destroy It. For with power, occasionally comes peace.
Round 1, Match 3: yangnome vs. RangerWickett vs. Herremann the Wise
I have labelled the pictures - Picture 1, Picture 2,... as they appeared in BSF's posting.
Altogether, not including labels and breaks {***}: 4,999 words.
I hope you enjoy.
Of Power and Peace
Introduction
For those who insist that they need to have a little background information…
Our story takes place in The Land of the Three Realms within a crumbling empire that has slowly eroded over several centuries to a number of provincial territories. The Great War with the Northern Barbarians was almost forty years in the past yet still there was no firm resolution - just an exhausted cessation of hostilities as the Empire journeyed inwards towards conflict and collapse. However, the portended end of the empire could be nigh as the Barbarians unleash a power beyond imagination - once again they have discovered like their ancient forefathers before them, the secrets of dragonflight.
This story concerns the journey of Orrolo, a young man of the Empire who wishes for peace between the two realms. He is sent on a secret journey to garner the alliance of an old wizard of barbarian heritage deep within the misty and mountainous border between the two regions. He is then to travel to the heart of the barbarian land with the wizard as a guide to deliver a gift and message to the King of the barbarians - hopefully, something of enough significance to engender a fragile genesis of peace.
However, all is not quite as simple as it seems. Orrolo of the Empire must endure the arrogance of his elder cousin's attempts to hijack the mission for his own pride and ends. Not only this, but the barbarian wizard who is the linchpin of the mission has no love at all for the Imperials. Worse however, he was a prisoner of the Great War who magically escaped the clutches of the Emperor. Gaining his favour would seem impossible: for any... except for perhaps Orrolo of the Minsuno.
***
In one of the small outer provinces of the Empire inside the family temple of Minsuno, an argument ensues between the Lorus (spiritual leader) of the House and E’dhanus the arrogant second son and princeling of the Minsuno Patriarch…
“But he is your cousin and family. Besides which he like you is fated for this mission and as such his participation is not for your choice or choosing.”
“The lad is but a stripling! Why dilute the glory of this mission that by rights should be mine!”
The raging E’dhanus, second in line to the family throne felt the hot fire of his blood course through his defined and arrogant veins. He had just been informed that his younger cousin Orrolo would not only be present for the secret mission to hunt down the barbarian wizard Bazreth, but he would then also be a key member of the ensuing delegation to the barbarian King. For one filled with the rigid pride of Minsuno, it was a poor and odious decision.
The Lorus however looked on unaroused by E’dhanus’s temper, the soft scent and peace of the candlelight within the small sacred auditorium assisting her in maintaining a semblance of tranquillity.
“I am disappointed you feel that the glory you might earn on a quest you are still yet to begin is the primary issue. If I were you, I would concentrate more on the expedition at hand. If you feel that the wizard Bazreth will open his doors to you and welcome you with honour and friendship, I suggest reassessing your delusions. As for your cousin whom may I remind you is of the blood of Minsuno, I firmly ask you to recast your judgment. How long has it been since you have truly seen Orrolo? Four…maybe five years? In this matter, you lack all prescience.”
E’dhanus’s stony face clenched in held rage at the diminutive woman; his shaved head revealing creased tension upon his bitter features as if by sheer size and impact of presence, he could force a change in the mind of the slight woman. Again, she seemed unperturbed. The crisp tone of a small bell distracted his ripening retort as he swung around, the Lorus glancing towards the wood-framed entrance as well.
“Your cousin has arrived. I strongly suggest you make him feel welcome,” said the Lorus in a low even voice – the hint of a hidden smile momentarily gracing her lips.
***
For Orrolo, the weeklong journey from his father’s town of Goria had been uneventful although the full force of a hard, bitter winter was evident as the last small vestige of autumn was frozen from the countryside. He now waited patiently behind the ceremonial entrance to the Hall of the Mother, looking carefully to the attendant who was waiting for some unseen or hidden signal. Orrolo’s pure gaze through blue eyes – his mother’s unusual heritage – gave him a look of youth, yet strangely wisdom as well. His clear and handsome features looked up as the sweet sound of a small bell rang clearly and with distinction in the cold afternoon air. The doorway’s custodian politely opened the door before permitting Orrolo’s entry.
Orrolo moved inside; his compact, sturdy yet graceful frame bowing to the Lorus and his cousin the Prince according to the strict dictates of etiquette and decorum. Despite having heard the majority of E’dhanus’s earlier tirade against him, a smile broached his face as he looked upon the granite silence of his cousin. There was no point in making a poor situation worse.
The Lorus stepped forward as several retainers assisted her with her ceremonial robes. A beacon of magnificence despite her slight stature, she received the newcomer warmly.
“Welcome young master. Your arrival is most timely.” She glanced carefully at the stony faced E’dhanus before continuing despite the prince’s breach of etiquette. “I trust your journey was swift and without incident?”
Orrolo lifted from his genuflected position and answered carefully. “Greetings Mother Lorus and to you too Prince E’dhanus. There were several interesting happenings but nothing of great consequence. I am here now with only a few scratches, ready to serve your wishes good Mother.”
“Bah!” blurted E’dhanus, unable to hold his tongue a moment longer. “Be ready and upon your pony by the dawn’s bell otherwise I will be leaving without you.”
And with this he stormed off to much rustling amongst the various attendants, replete now with fresh gossip. The Lorus looked at the prince’s dramatic exit with a wearied sigh before returning her attention to Orrolo.
“He is stubborn and more a fool. But he is the Prince and his fate is cast amongst the stars above.”
Orrolo just shook his head in shared sympathy with the woman who had helped raise him before ascending to the position of the Patriarch’s Lorus.
Looking over to the exit leading above to the temple observatory she added, “Ah… come and walk with me Orrolo as there are things afoot and things you must know before leaving upon this special mission.”
Several servitors adjusted her ceremonial dress as she took Orrolo by the arm and lead him upstairs.
***
The upper level of the Minsuno Temple encompassed a single large and open roofed room set aside for observing the stars and celestials; its simple yet dramatic architecture causing Orrolo to pause at its beauty. The Lorus pointed above to a series of constellations of astrological significance beside the twin planet Iriadeus.
“The stars following their strange orbits tell me many things young Orrolo… although the path I wish you to take, I cannot augur with any success. Come. Sit with me.”
Orrolo sat.
“The time has come to return to the Barbarians what is rightfully theirs. They know it is within the Empire somewhere and they will keep returning their attention to us until they have it. I hope and believe that by gifting it back to them, it will sway their attention and interest away from the lands of the Empire. The Empire needs time for its chance to heal. Otherwise it cannot but implode upon its own weight. With the Barbarians likely to focus here once more with some new power beyond my divining, time is dreadfully short. While many would consider this gift a sign of weakness, wisdom guides me towards this path as a last resort.”
Orrolo listened carefully.
“I need you to journey to a place upon the border where I have divined that an old enemy lives. The wizard Bazreth was held prisoner by the Emperor himself for almost seven years, pinned to a dungeon wall. Through magic beyond our understanding, he eventually escaped and retreated far far away. I need you to find him and show him the gift, as he will know what to do with it. In fact without his help, the entire gesture will be of no use. He knows the secret behind this gift… or at least has the power to divine it.”
Orrolo leaned forward as the Mother Lorus continued.
“We need to sway Bazreth to this endeavour. However, be warned. Bazreth obviously shares no love for the Empire although I hope you can convince him otherwise.”
The Lorus stood up and looked directly at the young man who she had fostered so many years ago. “Orrolo, you are special in some way beyond my understanding and to this task, I wish for your help and assistance despite your cousin’s best efforts. While he is strong in the ways of battle and a powerful leader of men, he is weak in the soul. Your rich spirit however I can almost sense as you sit here with me now.”
She ventured then towards a wall, which opened unbidden before her to reveal a small altar in front of a colourful reredos. Upon the altar laid a small tabernacle that she opened with a sweep of her hand. A shallow luminescence was cast from the slight box dancing across the Lorus’s features in what almost seemed incandescent joy. She closed it once more bringing it over to Orrolo. Bending down, she pressed it gently into his hands.
“We will talk this evening about preparations for your journey as you must have a thousand questions. For now though, I just wish to talk to my foster son.”
They spoke long into the night.
***
About a month later upon a track deep within the mountains, the coldness of the winter is augmented by the sullen demeanour of E’dhanus, having recently discovered and forced his cousin to relinquish the gold box…
The journey had been difficult.
Orrolo walked his pony up the chill path, several lengths behind E’dhanus’s gelding. While the journey deep into the mountain border had been relatively peaceful in terms of attack from the mountains native population, there had been several instances of conflict between the two cousins. Orrolo had found himself quickly assigned as E’dhanus’s personal servant much to his displeasure. While he had warned E’dhanus of the words of the Mother Lorus, E’dhanus was quick to dismiss her intentions and replace them with his own.
“The wizard will see that I as the senior member of this expedition am the person to discuss and entreat with. There is no point confusing him with additional input.”
Orrolo tried to conceive of how to confuse a wizard but could not. He saw too well through his cousin’s brash arrogance and as such merely hoped to mop up any gaffe that was sure to be issued from his mouth. While he had respect for his cousin in terms of being a Prince of the Minsuno and he would defend him, he knew in his mind that his allegiance must be to the dire mission foremost and his foolish cousin second. E’dhanus continued on ahead oblivious to Orrolo’s thoughts upon priority.
It was not too much past this point that Orrolo sensed a change in the immediate surroundings; something subtle and intangible.
“Cousin? Do you…”
Orrolo was stopped by E’dhanus twirling around upon his mount, anger clear upon his features.
“Sir,” Orrolo corrected, eliciting a grunt of satisfaction from his cousin, “Do you sense a change in the vicinity? Has the weather become… less oppressive?”
E’dhanus looked around obviously ignorant to what his cousin was sensing.
“What foolishness are you talking about, the trees still stand bereft of their leaves and my feet still sit frozen in my boots.”
Orrolo shrugged his shoulders as they continued onwards. The path meandered upon a flatter section before coming to a partially frozen creek, crowned by a small bridge crossing it. [Picture 2]
“Are you sure you don’t feel that?”
“Yes I’m damn well…”
E’dhanus’s harsh rejoinder was interrupted by a booming voice inside their heads.
“Leave trespassers… NOW if you value your lives. Cross my bridge and you will feel my wrath!”
Orrolo halted immediately while his cousin the Prince straightened, his attitude automatically attuning itself to one of arrogant defiance. He pushed his pony towards the seemingly innocent bridge unheeding. Orrolo was about to warn E’dhanus to stop but a hazy mist appeared upon the bridge. Stepping out from the captured fog was a tall man unlike any Orrolo had seen before. Black of skin with mercurial features, the aged and bearded man, robed in deepest blue looked upon the moving E’dhanus astride his small pony. In a deep resonant voice different from the one earlier, the man attempted to halt the Prince.
“Please good sir, do not come closer as my master is currently occupied with his own endeavours. Surely you have heard his warning and so please… do not force him from his current focus.”
E’dhanus slowed his pony and hurriedly assayed the most convenient protocol for the situation.
“We have need of your master’s services. Take us to him for we have travelled too far to be stopped and delayed by an underling.’
The robed man seemed untroubled by E’dhanus’s manner and could not help but elicit a small chuckle at the man’s supercilious assumptions. “My master would fail to appreciate such an exhaustive distance. Again; go and please do not intrude upon his current exercises.”
Unfortunately, E’dhanus once more failed to grasp the tenor of the message and launched himself from the gelding but several spans away from the bridge. With the black man’s cloak billowing around him, E’dhanus thought to sway the servant through threat and force. The response of Bazreth, Grand Wizard of the Northern Kingdom was instantaneous. The mist behind the robed man spiralled and twirled, immediately coalescing into a gigantic bearded face. The face looked down at the now stopped Prince, anger firmly upon its features. The fog extended, instantly forming an outstretched arm as power emanated directly from the pointing hand.
A rippling of shadow thundered down forming a vertical plane of force. The thin expanse of magic coursed towards E’dhanus jolting him skyward as shock finally registered upon his features. [Picture 3] Banishing him ever skyward, the force suddenly consumed his essence in a violent coruscation of exploded colours. The Prince was gone. Orrolo, stunned by the incredible display of power looked on in horror as the face found his position, its expression unchanged. The hand reached out once more.
***
A month earlier, deep within the misted mountains lying between the border of the fracturing Empire and the Northern Kingdom in the deepest part of the night, a very special spider spins its web…
Bazreth looked on carefully.
The evergreen glade surrounding his gabled manse was dominated by a clear shallow lake of stunning effect in the evening light. The magic surrounding the glade held it in a temperate spring throughout the year with only the crispness of air to indicate the winter beyond. Bazreth, his rheumatic podgy fingers grasping a night pipe bereft of further intoxicants, leaned forward upon a small porch as he saw the small creature begin to spin and slide around the branches just beyond its home.
Like its entire and most unusual breed and species, the solar dew spider lived tightly inside a curled leaf before eventually journeying out to spin its delicate masterpiece. Using senses and perceptions beyond understanding of even the great mages of yore, it was able to cast its web according to the weight and position of the celestial bodies of the cosmos. Carefully throughout the night, it would traverse its web mimicking the exact and precise positioning of the celestials of astrological significance. With its ultimate performance finished, the tiny spider would then crawl back to its leafy home to expire; its life’s work as it were a final gift to the mortal realm.
Bazreth had kept this spider for what must almost be twenty years – many times it had threatened to venture from its leafy home but never for more than the light sustenance making up its requirements. Perhaps it had been the cool seasonal breeze that had set it upon its final path or perchance the celestials were in a position of import filling the small creature with an impossible impulse and desire? Bazreth looked upon the careful work of the spider, sighing as he pondered such thoughts. Filled with a giddy excitement yet at the same time a deepening sadness, he could not sleep but instead, Bazreth: one of the last wizards in the three Realms paid homage to his tiny friend of so many years as it travelled upon its final prophetic journey.
***
By the morning, Bazreth had slipped into a semi-aware doze as the dew-touched web glistened with magnificence from the sun’s reflected rays off of the massive twin planet of Iriadeus high above. Saddened by the passing of his small friend, he looked carefully at the amazing work and masterpiece of the spider. Stretching over numerous hands of distance, Bazreth looked up and across at the constellation marking that of the Three Realms. [Picture 4]
At first, there were a few points of interest, such as the Tanesin constellation in periodaxis with The Ghost of Eddin. However, something further clasped his attention casting a brittle sense of unease between his broad but old shoulders. With a quick inspection at the various Gallicean termini represented at the luminous poles of the entire system, a hollow, prescient impulse of foreboding buried itself directly into his stomach. Was it fear he felt that the stony implacable wheels of destruction were in motion once more?
Bazreth carefully considered his next move.
***
At the bridge forming the entrance to Bazreth’s domain and glade, the gigantic magical face looks down upon Orrolo, about to smite him from the mortal realm…
Bazreth’s misty hand gathered power around it, ready to strike down the other intruder. However, something stayed his hand as the arcane sight provided by the mist magic sensed a strange aura about the little man on the other side of the bridge. The magic upon the hand slowly evaporated.
“Why do you wish to intrude upon my attention, young mortal?” intoned Bazreth, the change in attitude momentarily jarring Orrolo from his terrified semblance. Unsure of whether he was prolonging his existence or not, Orrolo answered with complete honesty.
“I, Orrolo of the Minsuno have been sent here master wizard by the Lorus of our family to seek your aid in attempting to dissuade the North from war with the Empire.”
“And what makes you think that I would want to stop them? Is your Lorus a fool?”
“No, no”, said Orrolo urgently. “She is very wise and wishes to offer them a gift. Something they have been searching for that is the source of their ire with the Empire.”
Orrolo looked up as the mist and fog of the face started unswirling. The wizard seemed to have reached some form of decision; Orrolo thought he saw some measure of curiosity in the face before it completely dissipated. The voice was heard in his head once more but without the dramatic volume of former announcements. “Moses, bring young Orrolo here to me in the glade. His statements shed an unusual light on our friend’s final message.”
Moses nodded, obviously having heard the same communication and so with a smile, he beckoned Orrolo across as he clucked to the two ponies that had scampered from the magical path. Orrolo looked back to where he thought he saw something momentarily glisten in the sky above. He did not know that it was the final wisp of his cousin’s spirit leaving the realm and cosmos.
***
Orrolo looked on at the magical glade of Bazreth in wonder and amazement. The brewing of some strange refreshment awaited near his fingertips as he sat opposite the daunting form of Bazreth the Wizard. Also upon the table directly in front of the wizard was the tabernacle, opened and radiating the same glow upon his face that Orrolo had seen before. From his perspective, he could not see inside the small box.
Bazreth was dressed in delicate robes of white, unsoiled or marked. His bearded face seemed to focus heavily as his lips curled downwards in concentration before being released in slight surprise.
“Do you know of this… thing young Orrolo?” said the wizard looking up earnestly at the unassuming young man.
“No sir. I was told that you would understand its significance.”
Bazreth’s lips curled in a short bark of laughter. “Your Lorus has a greater faith in me than perhaps I deserve”, he said looking back down at the item inside the box. “The symbols I can understand and certain revelations given to me a month ago seem to be a little clearer now because of them. However, I can only speculate as to why she would wish to give such a gift to the King of the North. Perhaps there is some wisdom here beyond even my understanding.”
Orrolo, still unnerved but surprisingly not affected by his cousin’s harsh and foolish demise at the hands of the wizard, looked across at the small box. He could not constrain his curiosity any longer. “So… what actually is it? Is it some type of magic?”
“Yes… magic it is”, said Bazreth distractedly as he concentrated upon certain runes. Then all of a sudden he looked up, “No. I mean yes its magic but no… that’s not what the gift is. It’s held in a parcel of magic, bound together by great power. The gift itself according to the runes however, is something mundane… if exceedingly special in it’s own right.” He closed the box.
“Come Orrolo…Moses”, he yelled. The blue robed man with the black skin appeared almost instantly as if expecting the summons. Moses looked down at Orrolo and then over at his master.
“You know the preparations I have been making Moses?” questioned the wizard. “I believe now is the time my friend.”
Moses looked around the glade, taking in the surroundings. He had known the wizard for what must be almost forty years. Sharing a dank cell as prisoners can force a bond between people tighter and stronger than that of any family thought Moses, pondering his relationship with the wizard. He looked back at Bazreth, his toothy grin splitting his face. “I guess that means we’re going home sir.” It was more statement than question.
“Yes Moses, we’re going home.”
And with this and by morning, Bazreth looked around for the final time at the magical glade that had been his temporary home for so long. The portent of the solar dew spider weighed heavily upon his mind. It was time to go.
***
After a month travelling from the compressions of the mountainous terrain to the low arid wastes of the outer realm of the Northern Kingdom, a sight beyond imagination is seen…
The journey had been eventful with several interesting exchanges between Bazreth and some of the stranger denizens of the wastes. Orrolo of the Minsuno had assisted here and there with eloquent grace with the blade but such efforts were perhaps of less consequence, with Bazreth not wishing to expunge his power upon some creature of minimal threat. At this moment though, framed by the massive twin planet of Iriadeus behind him, Moses through slightly misted eyes looked up and to the far horizon [Picture 1]. Silhouetted by the setting sun was the breathtaking beauty of a dragon and her riders; the magnificence of the sight turned Moses eyes from awe to the crinkled tension of fear and then terror. The beast was headed directly towards them.
Bazreth, who was just behind the enigmatic Moses, saw the threat, raised his staff and countered it with significant magic and power. A dome of force suddenly surrounded the group, the twinkling of evanescent reflections coursing its breadth. The pure majesty of the dragon was evident as it circled around Bazreth’s magic. Almost the size of the Minsuno temple, the wings spread out gloriously as it glided in a single massive sweep. Orrolo looked at Bazreth, his outstretched staff holding the glassy shield in place. Turning back to the terrifying creature, Orrolo saw its low flight stutter as its wings suddenly swept up and its legs extended. The earth around them shuddered as the beast lowered itself and its riders to the ground.
The foremost rider stood high on top of the creatures raised neck, just behind its head. His frame was encased in black metal, a lance couched at his hip and a sword hilted on his left. In a thin voice barely penetrating the shield he shouted.
“Who travels here in the Dragon Realm?”
Bazreth having forced a parley of sorts cancelled the powerful magic. Looking up to the rider and with his most powerful and distinctive voice, he answered back, “My name is Bazreth as your father would have told you and his father before him. I am the last Grand Wizard of the North… and I am coming home.”
The dragon looked down unsettled, obviously able to understand some of the wizard’s speech. Meanwhile, the riders having reached some unspoken consensus climbed down, caution upon their faces but to a certain degree, awe and reverence as well. Looking upon the old wizard of the North, they both prostrated in supplication touching their heads to the ground.
Orrolo looked at the wizard in surprise as Bazreth smiled back at him, a twinkle in his eye.
“We have need to speak to the King on important diplomatic matters. I assume you can be taking us to his seat at Drammen Castle?” Bazreth asked pointing towards the conveying framework upon the dragon’s back. “I have someone I would wish him to meet.”
And with this, the group saw the world unlike how they had ever seen it before, the arid wastes giving way to hills, dales, forests and spectacular rivers and waterfalls. The beauty of the Northern Kingdom swept all to briefly beneath the dragon’s mighty wings.
***
In the Hall of the Barbarian King some time later…
A certain level of excitement pervaded the Drammen throne room as news was garnered of the imminent return of the last Grand Wizard of their age. Light flowed through the magnificent windowed arches caught inside by the dizzyingly high multi-domed ceiling. The pageantry of banners from all five dragonclans was present, each being carried by servants shadowing the first riders of each clan. With the King majestic upon his raised and mighty throne, all looked to the massive entry foyer as the King’s Bell sounded from the pinnacle of the tower immediately adjacent to the sweeping hall.
The appearance of Bazreth, robed in cloth of the finest weave drew an intake of breath from the noble crowd, highlighted by the magical ball providing illumination from several spans above the wizards head. Several mutterings however were heard as questions abounded amongst the throng. Directly behind Bazreth was a robed dark-skinned man from the far North but alongside of him was the slight stature of a Southerner.
What was an Imperial doing as part of an honoured procession to the King? Several exclamations could even be heard questioning the lack of restraint upon the free-walking Southerner. The King however, radiating the power of rulership seemed neither surprised nor in ire of the man. Unbeknownst to the nobles crowding the Drammen throne room, several meetings had already ensued between the men present. The King of the North was in fact most impressed, not only with Orrolo of the Minsuno but also with the gifts and agreements that had been bargained under the guidance of the returned Grand Wizard.
As the procession advanced to the King’s immediate presence, there was a hush as the King spoke.
“Welcome Grand Wizard and Orrolo Minsuno, delegate of the Minsuno Province.” With bows from the processionists, the King continued. “May I announce the signing of a treaty between the Minsuno Province and that of the Kingdom promising peace and cooperation for hopefully many years to come? In kindness, they have seen fit to return something priceless to our Kingdom of the North. Grand Wizard Bazreth… if you would do the honours please with your arcane touch?”
Hushed whispers of excitement swirled through the masses as Bazreth placed a small gold box upon the ceremonial altar to the side of the throne. With a slight motioning of his open hand, the lid opened. Carefully, he then pulled out a strange floating and glowing device made of perfect gold and round in aspect; a smattering of strange runes etched into its surface. Again there was a casting of magic where the gold device and something else seemed to coexist a hand above the opened container. Having finished the transformation, a perfect and massive egg hovered in suspension above the Minsuno tabernacle. However, it was no normal egg as its shade was that of purest crimson. It was the last male dragon egg in existence. With only five dragon-does left in the kingdom, it augured that the Dragons would truly fly again once more.
***
And so ends this tale, as Kuroku Minsuno closes the dragon-embossed Book of Legends for his young son the Prince, having read him the story of how his great grandfather Orrolo found peace for the Empire; garnered by giving Its ancient enemy the true weapon and power to destroy It. For with power, occasionally comes peace.
yangnome
First Post
OK, I finished with an hour and one minute to spare 
. I guess I'll make some comments about my entry while they are still fresh in my mind. I'll do these behind spoiler tags so they will not influence any judging decisions.
[sblock]
This was a difficult story for me to write, mainly due to the nature of the photos. Of course, I guess that is what CDM is all about. The pictures did speak the story to me right away. I was not joking when I said that I had a story a minute after the pics had been posted. I don’t know if this was good or bad though, as I really didn’t get a chance to ponder other alternatives.
The type of story I wrote is very different from what I generally try to write. I think that the monk photo really forced that though.
I immediately decided that I wanted to black guy in the cowboy hat to be the narrator of the story. I really enjoyed that picture, and the expression on his face was priceless. In my opinion, the story had to be about whatever he was looking at.
The look on his face, wasn’t just an ordinary look though. He was looking at something spectacular. The look on his face is one of awe, but I also feel impending doom there. I guess that is what led to the end of the world. I would imagine this look on someone’s face if they were unexpectedly staring at a mushroom cloud of an atomic blast.
I guess I’ll discuss the spider’s web next. Each of the beads of water on the web reflected the same picture. I had a hard time thought figuring out ho to incorporate something so small into something as epic as the end of the world.
Each of the beads of water though kind of resembled a globe. I don’t think it was a far stretch to tie these to planets. Since they each reflect the same scene in their own way, I decided that it would represent the universe…or perhaps a way that alternate worlds exist.
As I said, the monk was a tough one to include. It really forced my style into new territory. The picture to me though seemed very obvious. Due to its nature, I would have to interpret literally. I decided that since the world was going to end, he could try to stand against that and protect life as we know it. The actual pose of course, became his final blow.
The frosted scenery with the bridge was also difficult to integrate. The winter scene evoked a few emotions from me. Obviously, winter is used to signify death. A bridge can also represent transitions. These were both themes that I wanted to include in my story, but the scene itself was hard to fit as well. The first picture of the man, and the picture of the monk, didn’t seem to correspond with the weather in the scene.
I decided to make the scene the backdrop of the story…or at least a partial backdrop. I suppose the spider’s web is a backdrop as well. The frost spread once the world began to die. In my opinion, this was my weakest pic use, but I couldn’t fid a way to use it that didn’t seem forced. I hope it didn’t come across as too bad a throw away. I really wanted to integrate it better, but couldn’t figure out how without making it too forced.
Overall, I am not sure that I am happy with the story. It was shorter than I expected, but given the pictures and the story, I couldn’t really see extending it any further. I could have had the angel talk to the narrator more, or extended the fight scene, but I didn’t think either should go much longer.
I tried to end the story leaving the reader to decide if the story were a true happening, or just the drunken ramblings of a homeless man. I also hope that didn’t seem too forced. I also hope that the judges realize the intentional use of the incorrect grammar and slurred pronunciation of words. I tried to write this as if a drunken homeless man were telling the tale. I had originally used this to a greater degree, but went back and changes a lot of his speech patterns as I found them distracting.
Anyway, I enjoyed stretching my boundaries a bit. I look forward to seeing what Ranger Wickett and Herreman the Wise do with the pictures. It will be interesting to see how the pictures spoke to them.
[/sblock]
. I guess I'll make some comments about my entry while they are still fresh in my mind. I'll do these behind spoiler tags so they will not influence any judging decisions. [sblock]
This was a difficult story for me to write, mainly due to the nature of the photos. Of course, I guess that is what CDM is all about
. The pictures did speak the story to me right away. I was not joking when I said that I had a story a minute after the pics had been posted. I don’t know if this was good or bad though, as I really didn’t get a chance to ponder other alternatives.The type of story I wrote is very different from what I generally try to write. I think that the monk photo really forced that though.
I immediately decided that I wanted to black guy in the cowboy hat to be the narrator of the story. I really enjoyed that picture, and the expression on his face was priceless. In my opinion, the story had to be about whatever he was looking at.
The look on his face, wasn’t just an ordinary look though. He was looking at something spectacular. The look on his face is one of awe, but I also feel impending doom there. I guess that is what led to the end of the world. I would imagine this look on someone’s face if they were unexpectedly staring at a mushroom cloud of an atomic blast.
I guess I’ll discuss the spider’s web next. Each of the beads of water on the web reflected the same picture. I had a hard time thought figuring out ho to incorporate something so small into something as epic as the end of the world.
Each of the beads of water though kind of resembled a globe. I don’t think it was a far stretch to tie these to planets. Since they each reflect the same scene in their own way, I decided that it would represent the universe…or perhaps a way that alternate worlds exist.
As I said, the monk was a tough one to include. It really forced my style into new territory. The picture to me though seemed very obvious. Due to its nature, I would have to interpret literally. I decided that since the world was going to end, he could try to stand against that and protect life as we know it. The actual pose of course, became his final blow.
The frosted scenery with the bridge was also difficult to integrate. The winter scene evoked a few emotions from me. Obviously, winter is used to signify death. A bridge can also represent transitions. These were both themes that I wanted to include in my story, but the scene itself was hard to fit as well. The first picture of the man, and the picture of the monk, didn’t seem to correspond with the weather in the scene.
I decided to make the scene the backdrop of the story…or at least a partial backdrop. I suppose the spider’s web is a backdrop as well. The frost spread once the world began to die. In my opinion, this was my weakest pic use, but I couldn’t fid a way to use it that didn’t seem forced. I hope it didn’t come across as too bad a throw away. I really wanted to integrate it better, but couldn’t figure out how without making it too forced.
Overall, I am not sure that I am happy with the story. It was shorter than I expected, but given the pictures and the story, I couldn’t really see extending it any further. I could have had the angel talk to the narrator more, or extended the fight scene, but I didn’t think either should go much longer.
I tried to end the story leaving the reader to decide if the story were a true happening, or just the drunken ramblings of a homeless man. I also hope that didn’t seem too forced. I also hope that the judges realize the intentional use of the incorrect grammar and slurred pronunciation of words. I tried to write this as if a drunken homeless man were telling the tale. I had originally used this to a greater degree, but went back and changes a lot of his speech patterns as I found them distracting.
Anyway, I enjoyed stretching my boundaries a bit. I look forward to seeing what Ranger Wickett and Herreman the Wise do with the pictures. It will be interesting to see how the pictures spoke to them.
[/sblock]
RangerWickett
Legend
Ceramic DM – Summer 2005
Round 1, Match 3
By RangerWickett
Being woken up by El-Hadje was like playing Starcraft online and suddenly getting a pop-up ad mixed with a spam email. At least he didn’t have a virus. The asylum was very sterile.
“Time for work.”
El-Hadje’s voice was clipped, thickly accented with Nigerian or Sumerian or something.
I rolled in my cot, pulling the blanket closer. “Why the hell is it so cold?”
“Time for work,” El-Hadje said again. “You see, um, lots of work?”
Shivering, I finally opened my eyes and glared at the old man. He was grinning widely, and I saw that Robert was leaning against the wall, trying to sleep despite the nightmares he always had. The lights were painfully bright, gleaming off El-Hadje’s gold teeth. I’d asked him once how he could afford gold teeth, and he had said something about slam dunks.
I squinted at him. “You’re lucky you don’t speak English.”
El-Hadje hesitated, then nodded happily. “Yes! Lots of work. Is good we inside, yes? It is, ah, cold, yes?”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Cold like space.”
He was putting on his uniform, complete with his bagger’s hat. El-Hadje had been in the asylum a long time, and Batwarden let him get away with a few personality quirks like wearing things other than his uniform.
“Yes.” El-Hadje tied his apron, adjusted his hat, and left, laughing. As the door swung open, I could hear the morning screams of the other inmates.
With El-Hadje gone, Robert stared at me like he wanted help, but he never said anything. Knowing I’d get chit from the keepers if I didn’t get to work on time, I got off the cot and got dressed. It was like a straight-jacket without the straps – very stylish, but nowhere near as well coordinated as El-Hadje’s.
“How do I get out of this shicken-chit outfit?” I asked Robert.
He shivered.
Part One: Supermarket Asylum
Nothing interesting ever happened in the supermarket. It was always the crazies on the outside bringing their troubles into our world. Normally we would never have seen normal people, but the psychs thought that social interaction with those who were not criminally insane was good for us, so we had work. It was a well known fact that food service is the neutral ground between the everyday man and the lunatic.
I had been arrested a year earlier, caught by the FBI just before I could get back to my dad at the North Korean consulate in Atlanta. I remember them saying they wanted to talk to me about pirating some music. I had laughed and told them it hadn’t been “some music,” it had been all music. Ironically, though it had erased all chance of me getting an innocent verdict, it had been just perfect to allow me to enter a plea of insanity. Normal people just like hip-hop, or pop, or rock, or oldies, or Inuit love songs. Only nuts like everything.
Despite the cold, I needed to do business, so I hopped into the netnet for some quick music downloading. I kept my netnet hidden under my personal book collection, assuring that no one would ever find it. I had gotten them smuggled in – both the books and the netnet – in exchange for getting a friend a copy of a musical jingle they played at the 1910 World’s Fair. Retro was once again the new thing in advertising.
The netnet was one of the silver beaded ones, equipped with wireless magnetic hooks so I could toss it up on the ceiling and jump online in a cinch. Robert, poor braindead bastard he was, was the only person who could pin anything on me. The proximity sensors I’d bought (paid for with a jazz remix of the Roman Imperial Anthem, c. 215 A.D) would give me more than enough time to get out of the net and activate its hide feature. In a pinch, the whole thing would cling to the ceiling, flattening itself so it could be mistaken for a cobweb.
I settled into the neuroactive mesh of the netnet and loaded my Artanis avatar. From the Starcraft-T game site I was able to ditch the avatar and slip out of the asylum network – it may sound simple to some of you, but I’d never been big into the hacking end of computers, so it took me a while. The netnet NPU knew what songs I needed to pick up, and it sent out spiders, giving me time to visit my father.
“An ice storm is coming,” he told me.
He could not hear it, but I had Amidst The Badger’s “Lucky Fallout Bastard” playing. It added a bit of charm to the old garden in the center of the Korean consulate.
“I can see,” I said. The garden was coated in a thin sheen of ice. I had visited the garden at least once a week since my institutionalization to train with my father. For once I was glad that it was the digital version, not the real one, since the ice would be hell to spar on.
I giggled at the ice pun. My father’s avatar sneered at me, and with just that provocation the fight began. Another benefit of fighting online: the heavy metal soundtrack, in this case an epic war song by The Jimi Hendrix Experience in an alternate timeline where World War III had started in the late 60s.
We slammed fists and shins into each other, threw each other into trees and shattered the bridge over the frozen pond. My father never talked. I think he was afraid he would catch some of my insanity.
I was preparing for my first aerial dive kick when the system began to glitch. I lose all physical sensation, so I misjudge the force of my attack and drive my leg through a tree.
“Time out,” I said. “Something weird’s going on.”
My father cancelled the garden program. “There are many people nervous about the ice storm. It has been manifesting on the net already, though the weather is still a few hours away. Power may go down.”
I shuddered at the thought. Once I’d been taking a shower in the public facilities and Patrick had turned off the lights as a prank, then started his heavy breathing routine. I had ended up spending ten minutes in a defensive stance in the dark, naked except for the organic soap lather, before I realized no one was going to attack me.
“I’ve been on edge,” I say. “I need some organic coffee.”
“Take your meds, Chou.” Then he logged out, leaving me only a few moments to get back to the Starcraft boards before his system security fried my brain.
If I had any friends in the asylum, I would joke to them that the only mental problem I have is the first half of the Oedipus complex.
* * *
I had one more stop before logging out. My father had handed over most of my personal belongings when I’d gotten caught, including all my Starcraft trophies, but I’d liquidated my other assets and hidden them in a safe deposit box in a Decatur bank. I had a security contact named Tyrone inside the bank willing to break in and get my safe deposit box, including the millions of dollars I had accrued by selling pirated music, but he was asking for money up front. And, sadly, he wasn’t a music fan.
“Five thousand,” he said.
We were in a virtual of Little Five Points, a shady, artsy cluster of restaurants and shops where I felt comfortable, and older people like this guy were always on guard. The live feed flickered between the early morning sun frying the sidewalks, and the digital freeze that was creeping across the netnet.
“Like hell,” I replied. “I’ve got . . . well, I’ve got lots in there. What are you waiting for? Just get it, I’ll give you six thousand, and we’ll be good. And don’t think of trying to just steal it yourself. It’s rigged to fry the cash if I don’t provide the right password.”
Tyrone said, “Five thousand is for the gear to even get the box. Me doing the job is another ten. I know how to get in, but I need the right equipment.”
I cursed his mother in Korean, then said, “Fine. I’ll see if I can drum up that much cash.”
“Better hurry man,” he said. “We’re changing security systems in two weeks, and I might not be able to get it once they install the new system.”
* * *
Lesley snatched the c-stick out of my hand, greedy to listen to all the karaoke versions of Backstreet Boys songs. A little mainstream, but full of good spirit.
“Keep it under wraps,” I told her, and she nodded with a snarl. She headed into the warehouse, and I tried to mentally prepare myself for the storefront.
Forcing a grin onto my face, I shoved the double doors open and strode through, letting them flip shut behind me. Usually, the first thing to assault me was the cleaning supply scent that permeates the entire facility and has mild psychotropic powers, but today I was struck first by how intensely cold it was. I had once heard that a clerk had died in the frozen food section, that they had found him coated with that white frost you see on the sides of ice cream cartons. The walls here were coated with that same frost.
If nothing else, the cold suppressed the neurotoxins in the cleaning solution vapors, but to be safe I hurried to the produce section. My watch showed only two minutes left until my shift started, barely enough time to eat my daily organic peach.
The aisles were crowded beyond reason. I saw no children, and few elderly people – Wednesdays were senior citizen discount days, and the store seriously transformed into senior singles night every Wednesday evening, as the geriatric folks pulled out their best suit from the 70s, dusted them off, and tried to pick up chicks in the diaper aisle – and Christmas had been months ago, so there was no excuse for this level of manic shopping.
Pam – the front service manager on duty, who used half her paycheck for food and the other half for her weave – flagged me down, and when I reached her she discreetly shoved a packet with my meds into my palm. “Get a till and go on register six.”
Pam probably did not even know if I spoke English. I gave her my grinning nod and headed for the cash room.
About a third of the other inmates were at the registers, either checking out or bagging. Everyone else was either answering customer questions on the floor like the good drones we were supposed to be, or they were sleeping to prepare for the night shift. Or they were like Robert, too catatonic to work, the lucky fraghead.
The entire front service area was bright, gleaming with intense fluorescent lights reflected on ice. Occasionally I noticed another gleam – the gold of El-Hadje’s snaggled teeth. El-Hadje was helping Edie – renowned for the French Maid Massacre – and whenever he stopped to stretch, he grinned, waved at me, and shouted something incomprehensible.
Trading pirated music was easy in an asylum. The managers were so concerned with making sure the lunatics didn’t give away free food that they’d never notice a guy like me handing over a c-stick when I passed back their credit card. In exchange, the customers would occasionally ‘forget’ a bag of groceries, and the bagger would take the bag to the freezer. On my breaks I had enough time to swing by the freezers, take out whatever I’d bartered for, and hide it for eventual trade to the other inmates. They might have been paranoid hackers, drug-fried thieves, and unpatriotic murderers, but they understood that I got them things, so they generally didn’t give me any chit.
Patrick was my bagger this day, though, and I didn’t trust him enough with the drops, so it was a slow business day for me, which was probably for the best. With my luck the store would run out of yogurt, and one of the managers would check the freezer to see if any had been returned, and they would end up stumbling across a stash of VR hentai music videos, or occult textbooks, or – even worse – brand name foods from the competitor, Red Market.
It amazed me that I never had to ask for information – people in line were always volunteering it. At Christmas they’d talk about what they were getting their kids. On Martin Luther King day they’d say how guilty they felt that things weren’t the way he’d wanted them to be. They’d mention their birthdays, their kids’ birthdays, the birthdays of their kids’ friends. If all the other cashiers got talked to the same way I did, it was a miracle none of them had killed any customers. At least, not that we knew about.
Right now they were talking about the weather, and for once the weather was something special. Most of them had gone on the net for their morning news, and had seen everything coated in ice. It was only affecting the Atlanta metropolitan area network, but most of the users were too old to be comfortable flying across the world to get their news someplace sunny and dry. Weather reports said the city would be hit by a crippling ice storm this evening, dropping enough sleet to bring down power lines and close the city. We had already sold out of portable generators, firewood, milk, and bread. The milk in particular amused me. They all knew they needed to stock up for the impending power outage, so they bought all the perishable food they could.
“Ooh.” The voice was high pitched and far more excited than anyone had right to be in a grocery store.
I looked over the register, and behind the crowd of people in line waiting to buy such emergency rations as butter and tilapia fillet I spotted a Jewish kid. He was maybe fourteen, and was staring at the Sports Illustrated on the magazine rack, on the cover of which a topless blonde was covering her own rack with just her hands and a football she had caught with the aid of her cleavage.
The kid grabbed a friend and pointed him toward the breasts that were so enthralling. I watched, not really needing to devote much effort to scanning canned goods. Unfortunately for the kids, the first kid’s mom saw what they were looking at and gasped. She pressed her way through the crowd, grabbing the magazine and forcing her way to stand in front of me.
“I’m sorry sir,” she said, “but do you condone children seeing these sorts of things?” She shook the magazine at me.
“No ma’am,” I said. “Not during ice storms. Swimsuits and snow make for a confusing message for children.”
“I want to talk to your manager.”
I shrugged and shouted for Pam, then pretty much ignored the issue, except to toss the kids a VR porn c-stick. What can I say? I’m sympathetic to the plight of the youth.
Hours passed with nothing more eventful than Pam putting an opaque plastic sheet in front of the swimsuit edition. El-Hadje was being louder than usual, and the store kept getting colder, until actual fog started filling the aisles. One of the cashiers panicked and had to be taken away so the doctors could explain to him that the fog couldn’t hurt him. Between the manic food-buying crowds and the ice that was starting to freeze together the buttons on my register, though, I was a little worried for my own safety.
Things were still busy when it came time for my break, so I had to wait for Patrick to head off before I had an excuse to leave – we didn’t have enough baggers, because apparently the lunatic mind is more suited to customer interaction than it is to dealing with plastic bags. But when Patrick finally went to go to the bathroom, I followed him, unpleasant as he was.
He whistled as he pissed – “Jailhouse Rock” – and when he finished he walked into the handicapped stall and locked the door. I could hear him breathing heavily, so heavily that it looked like smoke was pouring out of the stall from his foggy breath.
I was trying to get hot water to come out of the faucet when the restroom door opened, and a citizen walked in. This was the Employees Only restroom, and for good reason.
“Get out of here!” I shouted at the guy, but Patrick had already pushed open his door. He coughed vapor and scrambled for the clueless man. He managed to bite the man on his lips and rip something out before I reacted.
I couldn’t use all the same moves as I did online, but the principle was the same. A kick to his leg knocked him down, and another to his chest stunned him. The customer screamed and ran out of the bathroom, and Patrick glared up at me.
“You’re gonna be sorry when Hajji hears about this.”
I shrugged and went back to the sink, careful to listen if he was going to attack me. Which of course he did.
Patrick was one of the mundane inmates – not really crazy until he got here and got meds shoved down his gullet. He had just gotten placed in here to dodge prison, and had not been smart enough to throw away his pills. Because he was just a thug, I expected him to try to hit me, or maybe pull a shiv, but when I turned to block his attack I got flashed in the face by Bluetooth, an Ice used by cops to stun criminals. It shocked my brain into activating the implants that would normally let me go on the netnet, and if I hadn’t had a wireless connection it would have left me unconscious for a few hours while my mind tried to figure out why the universe was empty.
Still, it did shock me, and when I recovered enough to log out, I found myself in a headlock, my face being pressed toward the toilet Patrick had not flushed. I struck backward and gouged at his eyes, and he stumbled away. Before he could rush me again I yanked up the toilet seat, kicked into the hinges to knock it loose, and smashed it into Patrick’s face. He fell limp, and the urine-colored ice covering the restroom tile cracked with the impact.
“Where the hell did you get a Bluetooth?” I said, but I’d knocked him out, so I just riffled through his clothes. He had another Bluetooth charge in his pants, and a felt pen. Pens weren’t allowed in the asylum, so I gave him another look-over. Finally I spotted the map he had drawn on his shins, complete with a big A for the asylum, and an X with two R's for the nearest railroad.
I hid Patrick’s body in the handicapped stall and went back to work like nothing was up, but I watched El-Hadje more closely. The African man had been my cellmate, along with Robert, for a year now, and he had never seemed the type to take revenge, at least not compared to Anthony “Usher” King, the gangslord. His two personalities had each run their own gang in east Atlanta, and they said he had ordered his other personality’s girlfriend shot, which sparked the gang war that brought him down. He was one of the few inmates whom the meds actually helped.
On my dinner break I hit up a conversation with Usher. It was getting dark, and the crowds were more insistent, to the point that they were buying even the expensive brands because they needed taco seasoning, and the generic brands were sold out. Usher and I met in a cubby where sometimes the women hung out to put on make-up. It had a window to the outside, the closet thing to a mirror in the asylum.
“Have you seen anything suspicious?”
Usher held out a hand, and I passed him the collected works of John Tesh. “The netnet’s fritzin’,” he said. “I know you’re fond of it, but you betta’ plan what you’ll do without it for a few days.”
“Patrick attacked me earlier. He had a map of the neighborhood.”
The grin on Usher’s face worried me.
“I’m out of the loop,” I said. “Right?”
“Yes,” El-Hadje said. He peeked around the corner of the cubby. “People, they, ah, crazy, yes? Lots of work. I you saw my lots of work? Netnet.”
I gaped at him. I was pretty good with deciphering his gibber, but what he’d said made no sense for a completely unusual reason.
”Wait,” I said, “you did that? On the netnet?”
“Lots of ice, yes. Work, burr, hard.”
Usher smiled. “In half an hour, the power goes down, and we’re getting out. The trains should still be running, so we should be able to get to Savannah before anyone starts looking for us. You want in, Chou?”
I considered it. I had another year at least before the psychs would consider saneing me, but if I could get my safe deposit box, I could bribe my way out of here with a clean bill of sanity. I didn’t want to be on the run.
“I’m in,” I said. “But a quick question. Patrick flashed me with bluetooth. I know I didn’t smuggle that chit in.”
Usher grinned. El-Hadje frowned, then nodded and smiled. “Yes. Bah, big boss, no? Rattle and hum, yes? I, ah, go. Big freeze, yes.”
I had only ever smuggled in my own netnet connection, to make sure no one could give me competition. I had no idea how El-Hadje could be accessing the netnet, and he had never shown any skill in programming. Of course, just because he didn’t speak any English or Korean, I had assumed he was as braindead as half the other people who were committed here.
El-Hadje left, and I stood to go back to work, but Usher grabbed my wrist.
“You’re getting out, man. Don’t get a grudge because you have competition now.”
I laughed. “Not a chance. Vendettas are unhealthy. You learned that lesson twice.”
I pasted on my medicated grin and slipped into the shopping crowds, letting them carry me to the doors that led to the warehouse. Beyond the warehouse were the living quarters, and I needed to get there to alert the authorities before El-Hadje froze the netnet. I had been faking contented insanity so long, the managers and psychs here would never believe me, so I had to hope the cops would just respond to a bomb threat and be here in time to catch the escapees. I certainly did not consider myself a criminal, and after spending a year here I knew that letting the loonies out would be a bad thing.
As I pressed through the crowd, I picked up a few frozen organic bananas to help clear my head.
Lights were starting to flicker in the warehouse as the ice storm – maybe the real one, maybe the digital – began messing with power lines. The floor was frozen, and while the shoppers had coats, we inmates weren’t allowed them, so no one bothered me. I reached my room, nodded to Robert who was still sitting and shivering against one wall, and got out my netnet. I was stretching it out so I could climb in, and my back was to the door, when I saw movement reflected in the silvery beads on the netnet’s web mesh. Something behind me was moving, and I had not heard it over the roar of the air conditioning.
I spun to face my attacker, expecting El-Hadje, but it was Robert. I had never seen him stand to his full height, and he was over six feet tall, balding and wide-eyed, hardly the brain dead man I was used to.
His voice was surprisingly friendly and nerdy. “I had an idea you would do this. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you mess with the plan.”
“Does everyone here fake being crazy?” I asked.
He grinned maniacally and swung a meaty fist at me. I staggered back out of range and fell into the netnet, but it was not fully stretched, so it tangled one of my arms. Robert grabbed my head with both hands and tried to head butt me, but I kneed him in the groin, then pulled the bluetooth out of my apron and flashed him. He staggered, spasmed for a moment, and then fell down.
“Some criminal mastermind,” I laughed. “You’ve probably been using my netnet while I was at work too. Nicely done, bastard.”
He twitched a bit, but looked fully catatonic. Of course, he had fooled me before, so I went to my stash and found another goody I had smuggled in. It took a little work to make his hands grab the knife, but the sterile gloves the supermarket made us wear would keep my fingerprints off it. There was a nice pool of blood around each of his wrists before I felt comfortable logging on.
As I expected, he had a wireless connection of his own, and he was waiting when my avatar manifested. He had created an avatar of a lightning-taloned griffon, whereas I was just in my sparring outfit. We were alone in an icy wasteland, and the visual processors were breaking down in the distance, rendering clouds in green wiremesh.
I held up a hand to forestall an attack.
“Wait, Robert. I overreacted. I’m sorry.”
The griffon looked confused. It cawed out, “I don’t trust you.”
“You probably shouldn’t. Look, you’ve been piggybacking on my connection, so I’m just going to download a few quick files to your brain, okay? You like Disney music?”
He cried out at me and scrambled forward on paws and talons. “It’s a Small World” was beginning to play in his head as he swiped at me with a talon, and I blocked the strike with ease. My own soundtrack was playing something off my randomized fantasy movie soundtrack collection, and I got into a nice rhythm of dodging beak strikes and claw swipes to the beat of the music.
Finally, in frustration, Robert took to the air, his wings swinging him into a frozen sky. He circled overhead, waiting for an opportune moment to strike. I decided not to give him the chance, and leapt into the air, preparing for a diving kick.
That was when my body stopped working. I was left floating in the air as the gravity was disabled.
Robert swooped past me, giving a mocking cry. “I’ve been hacking your system for a year now. Hell, they put me in here for programming people’s minds to make them insane. Did you really think you could defeat me online?”
“Um, no.” I couldn’t move my body, so I just followed his path with my eyes. “That’s why I slit your wrists before logging on. Oh, and your jugular. I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long. You really might want to log off.”
El-Hadje’s hacking was taking effect, the world starting to break down as the netnet connection faltered. Robert logged off in a panic, and I sent an urgent text message to the area police stations, reporting a bomb threat. Not the best course of action, especially since when the system crashed, if I was still online I would go unconscious and be trapped in a dark room with a perhaps not-dead Robert. But I couldn’t move, was stuck in a stupid posture mid-kick, and couldn’t log off, so I had nothing better to do than send out some emails.
Which is why I’ve sent this email to you. As you can see, I’m in a bit of a tough spot. With luck, the cops will realize I was just trying to help, and they won’t press charges. They might even let me out of the asylum. But that still doesn’t help me get my safe deposit box. My Nigerian friend El-Hadje might want to take revenge on me, and I need protection. If you’ll just transfer $5000 to my account, I’ll be able to get my safe deposit box, and I’ll gladly share my millions with you. Please just help out a poor Korean Starcraft player who’s fallen on hard times.
Oh, and buy organic.
Round 1, Match 3
By RangerWickett
Being woken up by El-Hadje was like playing Starcraft online and suddenly getting a pop-up ad mixed with a spam email. At least he didn’t have a virus. The asylum was very sterile.
“Time for work.”
El-Hadje’s voice was clipped, thickly accented with Nigerian or Sumerian or something.
I rolled in my cot, pulling the blanket closer. “Why the hell is it so cold?”
“Time for work,” El-Hadje said again. “You see, um, lots of work?”
Shivering, I finally opened my eyes and glared at the old man. He was grinning widely, and I saw that Robert was leaning against the wall, trying to sleep despite the nightmares he always had. The lights were painfully bright, gleaming off El-Hadje’s gold teeth. I’d asked him once how he could afford gold teeth, and he had said something about slam dunks.
I squinted at him. “You’re lucky you don’t speak English.”
El-Hadje hesitated, then nodded happily. “Yes! Lots of work. Is good we inside, yes? It is, ah, cold, yes?”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Cold like space.”
He was putting on his uniform, complete with his bagger’s hat. El-Hadje had been in the asylum a long time, and Batwarden let him get away with a few personality quirks like wearing things other than his uniform.
“Yes.” El-Hadje tied his apron, adjusted his hat, and left, laughing. As the door swung open, I could hear the morning screams of the other inmates.
With El-Hadje gone, Robert stared at me like he wanted help, but he never said anything. Knowing I’d get chit from the keepers if I didn’t get to work on time, I got off the cot and got dressed. It was like a straight-jacket without the straps – very stylish, but nowhere near as well coordinated as El-Hadje’s.
“How do I get out of this shicken-chit outfit?” I asked Robert.
He shivered.
Part One: Supermarket Asylum
Nothing interesting ever happened in the supermarket. It was always the crazies on the outside bringing their troubles into our world. Normally we would never have seen normal people, but the psychs thought that social interaction with those who were not criminally insane was good for us, so we had work. It was a well known fact that food service is the neutral ground between the everyday man and the lunatic.
I had been arrested a year earlier, caught by the FBI just before I could get back to my dad at the North Korean consulate in Atlanta. I remember them saying they wanted to talk to me about pirating some music. I had laughed and told them it hadn’t been “some music,” it had been all music. Ironically, though it had erased all chance of me getting an innocent verdict, it had been just perfect to allow me to enter a plea of insanity. Normal people just like hip-hop, or pop, or rock, or oldies, or Inuit love songs. Only nuts like everything.
Despite the cold, I needed to do business, so I hopped into the netnet for some quick music downloading. I kept my netnet hidden under my personal book collection, assuring that no one would ever find it. I had gotten them smuggled in – both the books and the netnet – in exchange for getting a friend a copy of a musical jingle they played at the 1910 World’s Fair. Retro was once again the new thing in advertising.
The netnet was one of the silver beaded ones, equipped with wireless magnetic hooks so I could toss it up on the ceiling and jump online in a cinch. Robert, poor braindead bastard he was, was the only person who could pin anything on me. The proximity sensors I’d bought (paid for with a jazz remix of the Roman Imperial Anthem, c. 215 A.D) would give me more than enough time to get out of the net and activate its hide feature. In a pinch, the whole thing would cling to the ceiling, flattening itself so it could be mistaken for a cobweb.
I settled into the neuroactive mesh of the netnet and loaded my Artanis avatar. From the Starcraft-T game site I was able to ditch the avatar and slip out of the asylum network – it may sound simple to some of you, but I’d never been big into the hacking end of computers, so it took me a while. The netnet NPU knew what songs I needed to pick up, and it sent out spiders, giving me time to visit my father.
“An ice storm is coming,” he told me.
He could not hear it, but I had Amidst The Badger’s “Lucky Fallout Bastard” playing. It added a bit of charm to the old garden in the center of the Korean consulate.
“I can see,” I said. The garden was coated in a thin sheen of ice. I had visited the garden at least once a week since my institutionalization to train with my father. For once I was glad that it was the digital version, not the real one, since the ice would be hell to spar on.
I giggled at the ice pun. My father’s avatar sneered at me, and with just that provocation the fight began. Another benefit of fighting online: the heavy metal soundtrack, in this case an epic war song by The Jimi Hendrix Experience in an alternate timeline where World War III had started in the late 60s.
We slammed fists and shins into each other, threw each other into trees and shattered the bridge over the frozen pond. My father never talked. I think he was afraid he would catch some of my insanity.
I was preparing for my first aerial dive kick when the system began to glitch. I lose all physical sensation, so I misjudge the force of my attack and drive my leg through a tree.
“Time out,” I said. “Something weird’s going on.”
My father cancelled the garden program. “There are many people nervous about the ice storm. It has been manifesting on the net already, though the weather is still a few hours away. Power may go down.”
I shuddered at the thought. Once I’d been taking a shower in the public facilities and Patrick had turned off the lights as a prank, then started his heavy breathing routine. I had ended up spending ten minutes in a defensive stance in the dark, naked except for the organic soap lather, before I realized no one was going to attack me.
“I’ve been on edge,” I say. “I need some organic coffee.”
“Take your meds, Chou.” Then he logged out, leaving me only a few moments to get back to the Starcraft boards before his system security fried my brain.
If I had any friends in the asylum, I would joke to them that the only mental problem I have is the first half of the Oedipus complex.
* * *
I had one more stop before logging out. My father had handed over most of my personal belongings when I’d gotten caught, including all my Starcraft trophies, but I’d liquidated my other assets and hidden them in a safe deposit box in a Decatur bank. I had a security contact named Tyrone inside the bank willing to break in and get my safe deposit box, including the millions of dollars I had accrued by selling pirated music, but he was asking for money up front. And, sadly, he wasn’t a music fan.
“Five thousand,” he said.
We were in a virtual of Little Five Points, a shady, artsy cluster of restaurants and shops where I felt comfortable, and older people like this guy were always on guard. The live feed flickered between the early morning sun frying the sidewalks, and the digital freeze that was creeping across the netnet.
“Like hell,” I replied. “I’ve got . . . well, I’ve got lots in there. What are you waiting for? Just get it, I’ll give you six thousand, and we’ll be good. And don’t think of trying to just steal it yourself. It’s rigged to fry the cash if I don’t provide the right password.”
Tyrone said, “Five thousand is for the gear to even get the box. Me doing the job is another ten. I know how to get in, but I need the right equipment.”
I cursed his mother in Korean, then said, “Fine. I’ll see if I can drum up that much cash.”
“Better hurry man,” he said. “We’re changing security systems in two weeks, and I might not be able to get it once they install the new system.”
* * *
Lesley snatched the c-stick out of my hand, greedy to listen to all the karaoke versions of Backstreet Boys songs. A little mainstream, but full of good spirit.
“Keep it under wraps,” I told her, and she nodded with a snarl. She headed into the warehouse, and I tried to mentally prepare myself for the storefront.
Forcing a grin onto my face, I shoved the double doors open and strode through, letting them flip shut behind me. Usually, the first thing to assault me was the cleaning supply scent that permeates the entire facility and has mild psychotropic powers, but today I was struck first by how intensely cold it was. I had once heard that a clerk had died in the frozen food section, that they had found him coated with that white frost you see on the sides of ice cream cartons. The walls here were coated with that same frost.
If nothing else, the cold suppressed the neurotoxins in the cleaning solution vapors, but to be safe I hurried to the produce section. My watch showed only two minutes left until my shift started, barely enough time to eat my daily organic peach.
The aisles were crowded beyond reason. I saw no children, and few elderly people – Wednesdays were senior citizen discount days, and the store seriously transformed into senior singles night every Wednesday evening, as the geriatric folks pulled out their best suit from the 70s, dusted them off, and tried to pick up chicks in the diaper aisle – and Christmas had been months ago, so there was no excuse for this level of manic shopping.
Pam – the front service manager on duty, who used half her paycheck for food and the other half for her weave – flagged me down, and when I reached her she discreetly shoved a packet with my meds into my palm. “Get a till and go on register six.”
Pam probably did not even know if I spoke English. I gave her my grinning nod and headed for the cash room.
About a third of the other inmates were at the registers, either checking out or bagging. Everyone else was either answering customer questions on the floor like the good drones we were supposed to be, or they were sleeping to prepare for the night shift. Or they were like Robert, too catatonic to work, the lucky fraghead.
The entire front service area was bright, gleaming with intense fluorescent lights reflected on ice. Occasionally I noticed another gleam – the gold of El-Hadje’s snaggled teeth. El-Hadje was helping Edie – renowned for the French Maid Massacre – and whenever he stopped to stretch, he grinned, waved at me, and shouted something incomprehensible.
Trading pirated music was easy in an asylum. The managers were so concerned with making sure the lunatics didn’t give away free food that they’d never notice a guy like me handing over a c-stick when I passed back their credit card. In exchange, the customers would occasionally ‘forget’ a bag of groceries, and the bagger would take the bag to the freezer. On my breaks I had enough time to swing by the freezers, take out whatever I’d bartered for, and hide it for eventual trade to the other inmates. They might have been paranoid hackers, drug-fried thieves, and unpatriotic murderers, but they understood that I got them things, so they generally didn’t give me any chit.
Patrick was my bagger this day, though, and I didn’t trust him enough with the drops, so it was a slow business day for me, which was probably for the best. With my luck the store would run out of yogurt, and one of the managers would check the freezer to see if any had been returned, and they would end up stumbling across a stash of VR hentai music videos, or occult textbooks, or – even worse – brand name foods from the competitor, Red Market.
It amazed me that I never had to ask for information – people in line were always volunteering it. At Christmas they’d talk about what they were getting their kids. On Martin Luther King day they’d say how guilty they felt that things weren’t the way he’d wanted them to be. They’d mention their birthdays, their kids’ birthdays, the birthdays of their kids’ friends. If all the other cashiers got talked to the same way I did, it was a miracle none of them had killed any customers. At least, not that we knew about.
Right now they were talking about the weather, and for once the weather was something special. Most of them had gone on the net for their morning news, and had seen everything coated in ice. It was only affecting the Atlanta metropolitan area network, but most of the users were too old to be comfortable flying across the world to get their news someplace sunny and dry. Weather reports said the city would be hit by a crippling ice storm this evening, dropping enough sleet to bring down power lines and close the city. We had already sold out of portable generators, firewood, milk, and bread. The milk in particular amused me. They all knew they needed to stock up for the impending power outage, so they bought all the perishable food they could.
“Ooh.” The voice was high pitched and far more excited than anyone had right to be in a grocery store.
I looked over the register, and behind the crowd of people in line waiting to buy such emergency rations as butter and tilapia fillet I spotted a Jewish kid. He was maybe fourteen, and was staring at the Sports Illustrated on the magazine rack, on the cover of which a topless blonde was covering her own rack with just her hands and a football she had caught with the aid of her cleavage.
The kid grabbed a friend and pointed him toward the breasts that were so enthralling. I watched, not really needing to devote much effort to scanning canned goods. Unfortunately for the kids, the first kid’s mom saw what they were looking at and gasped. She pressed her way through the crowd, grabbing the magazine and forcing her way to stand in front of me.
“I’m sorry sir,” she said, “but do you condone children seeing these sorts of things?” She shook the magazine at me.
“No ma’am,” I said. “Not during ice storms. Swimsuits and snow make for a confusing message for children.”
“I want to talk to your manager.”
I shrugged and shouted for Pam, then pretty much ignored the issue, except to toss the kids a VR porn c-stick. What can I say? I’m sympathetic to the plight of the youth.
Hours passed with nothing more eventful than Pam putting an opaque plastic sheet in front of the swimsuit edition. El-Hadje was being louder than usual, and the store kept getting colder, until actual fog started filling the aisles. One of the cashiers panicked and had to be taken away so the doctors could explain to him that the fog couldn’t hurt him. Between the manic food-buying crowds and the ice that was starting to freeze together the buttons on my register, though, I was a little worried for my own safety.
Things were still busy when it came time for my break, so I had to wait for Patrick to head off before I had an excuse to leave – we didn’t have enough baggers, because apparently the lunatic mind is more suited to customer interaction than it is to dealing with plastic bags. But when Patrick finally went to go to the bathroom, I followed him, unpleasant as he was.
He whistled as he pissed – “Jailhouse Rock” – and when he finished he walked into the handicapped stall and locked the door. I could hear him breathing heavily, so heavily that it looked like smoke was pouring out of the stall from his foggy breath.
I was trying to get hot water to come out of the faucet when the restroom door opened, and a citizen walked in. This was the Employees Only restroom, and for good reason.
“Get out of here!” I shouted at the guy, but Patrick had already pushed open his door. He coughed vapor and scrambled for the clueless man. He managed to bite the man on his lips and rip something out before I reacted.
I couldn’t use all the same moves as I did online, but the principle was the same. A kick to his leg knocked him down, and another to his chest stunned him. The customer screamed and ran out of the bathroom, and Patrick glared up at me.
“You’re gonna be sorry when Hajji hears about this.”
I shrugged and went back to the sink, careful to listen if he was going to attack me. Which of course he did.
Patrick was one of the mundane inmates – not really crazy until he got here and got meds shoved down his gullet. He had just gotten placed in here to dodge prison, and had not been smart enough to throw away his pills. Because he was just a thug, I expected him to try to hit me, or maybe pull a shiv, but when I turned to block his attack I got flashed in the face by Bluetooth, an Ice used by cops to stun criminals. It shocked my brain into activating the implants that would normally let me go on the netnet, and if I hadn’t had a wireless connection it would have left me unconscious for a few hours while my mind tried to figure out why the universe was empty.
Still, it did shock me, and when I recovered enough to log out, I found myself in a headlock, my face being pressed toward the toilet Patrick had not flushed. I struck backward and gouged at his eyes, and he stumbled away. Before he could rush me again I yanked up the toilet seat, kicked into the hinges to knock it loose, and smashed it into Patrick’s face. He fell limp, and the urine-colored ice covering the restroom tile cracked with the impact.
“Where the hell did you get a Bluetooth?” I said, but I’d knocked him out, so I just riffled through his clothes. He had another Bluetooth charge in his pants, and a felt pen. Pens weren’t allowed in the asylum, so I gave him another look-over. Finally I spotted the map he had drawn on his shins, complete with a big A for the asylum, and an X with two R's for the nearest railroad.
I hid Patrick’s body in the handicapped stall and went back to work like nothing was up, but I watched El-Hadje more closely. The African man had been my cellmate, along with Robert, for a year now, and he had never seemed the type to take revenge, at least not compared to Anthony “Usher” King, the gangslord. His two personalities had each run their own gang in east Atlanta, and they said he had ordered his other personality’s girlfriend shot, which sparked the gang war that brought him down. He was one of the few inmates whom the meds actually helped.
On my dinner break I hit up a conversation with Usher. It was getting dark, and the crowds were more insistent, to the point that they were buying even the expensive brands because they needed taco seasoning, and the generic brands were sold out. Usher and I met in a cubby where sometimes the women hung out to put on make-up. It had a window to the outside, the closet thing to a mirror in the asylum.
“Have you seen anything suspicious?”
Usher held out a hand, and I passed him the collected works of John Tesh. “The netnet’s fritzin’,” he said. “I know you’re fond of it, but you betta’ plan what you’ll do without it for a few days.”
“Patrick attacked me earlier. He had a map of the neighborhood.”
The grin on Usher’s face worried me.
“I’m out of the loop,” I said. “Right?”
“Yes,” El-Hadje said. He peeked around the corner of the cubby. “People, they, ah, crazy, yes? Lots of work. I you saw my lots of work? Netnet.”
I gaped at him. I was pretty good with deciphering his gibber, but what he’d said made no sense for a completely unusual reason.
”Wait,” I said, “you did that? On the netnet?”
“Lots of ice, yes. Work, burr, hard.”
Usher smiled. “In half an hour, the power goes down, and we’re getting out. The trains should still be running, so we should be able to get to Savannah before anyone starts looking for us. You want in, Chou?”
I considered it. I had another year at least before the psychs would consider saneing me, but if I could get my safe deposit box, I could bribe my way out of here with a clean bill of sanity. I didn’t want to be on the run.
“I’m in,” I said. “But a quick question. Patrick flashed me with bluetooth. I know I didn’t smuggle that chit in.”
Usher grinned. El-Hadje frowned, then nodded and smiled. “Yes. Bah, big boss, no? Rattle and hum, yes? I, ah, go. Big freeze, yes.”
I had only ever smuggled in my own netnet connection, to make sure no one could give me competition. I had no idea how El-Hadje could be accessing the netnet, and he had never shown any skill in programming. Of course, just because he didn’t speak any English or Korean, I had assumed he was as braindead as half the other people who were committed here.
El-Hadje left, and I stood to go back to work, but Usher grabbed my wrist.
“You’re getting out, man. Don’t get a grudge because you have competition now.”
I laughed. “Not a chance. Vendettas are unhealthy. You learned that lesson twice.”
I pasted on my medicated grin and slipped into the shopping crowds, letting them carry me to the doors that led to the warehouse. Beyond the warehouse were the living quarters, and I needed to get there to alert the authorities before El-Hadje froze the netnet. I had been faking contented insanity so long, the managers and psychs here would never believe me, so I had to hope the cops would just respond to a bomb threat and be here in time to catch the escapees. I certainly did not consider myself a criminal, and after spending a year here I knew that letting the loonies out would be a bad thing.
As I pressed through the crowd, I picked up a few frozen organic bananas to help clear my head.
Lights were starting to flicker in the warehouse as the ice storm – maybe the real one, maybe the digital – began messing with power lines. The floor was frozen, and while the shoppers had coats, we inmates weren’t allowed them, so no one bothered me. I reached my room, nodded to Robert who was still sitting and shivering against one wall, and got out my netnet. I was stretching it out so I could climb in, and my back was to the door, when I saw movement reflected in the silvery beads on the netnet’s web mesh. Something behind me was moving, and I had not heard it over the roar of the air conditioning.
I spun to face my attacker, expecting El-Hadje, but it was Robert. I had never seen him stand to his full height, and he was over six feet tall, balding and wide-eyed, hardly the brain dead man I was used to.
His voice was surprisingly friendly and nerdy. “I had an idea you would do this. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you mess with the plan.”
“Does everyone here fake being crazy?” I asked.
He grinned maniacally and swung a meaty fist at me. I staggered back out of range and fell into the netnet, but it was not fully stretched, so it tangled one of my arms. Robert grabbed my head with both hands and tried to head butt me, but I kneed him in the groin, then pulled the bluetooth out of my apron and flashed him. He staggered, spasmed for a moment, and then fell down.
“Some criminal mastermind,” I laughed. “You’ve probably been using my netnet while I was at work too. Nicely done, bastard.”
He twitched a bit, but looked fully catatonic. Of course, he had fooled me before, so I went to my stash and found another goody I had smuggled in. It took a little work to make his hands grab the knife, but the sterile gloves the supermarket made us wear would keep my fingerprints off it. There was a nice pool of blood around each of his wrists before I felt comfortable logging on.
As I expected, he had a wireless connection of his own, and he was waiting when my avatar manifested. He had created an avatar of a lightning-taloned griffon, whereas I was just in my sparring outfit. We were alone in an icy wasteland, and the visual processors were breaking down in the distance, rendering clouds in green wiremesh.
I held up a hand to forestall an attack.
“Wait, Robert. I overreacted. I’m sorry.”
The griffon looked confused. It cawed out, “I don’t trust you.”
“You probably shouldn’t. Look, you’ve been piggybacking on my connection, so I’m just going to download a few quick files to your brain, okay? You like Disney music?”
He cried out at me and scrambled forward on paws and talons. “It’s a Small World” was beginning to play in his head as he swiped at me with a talon, and I blocked the strike with ease. My own soundtrack was playing something off my randomized fantasy movie soundtrack collection, and I got into a nice rhythm of dodging beak strikes and claw swipes to the beat of the music.
Finally, in frustration, Robert took to the air, his wings swinging him into a frozen sky. He circled overhead, waiting for an opportune moment to strike. I decided not to give him the chance, and leapt into the air, preparing for a diving kick.
That was when my body stopped working. I was left floating in the air as the gravity was disabled.
Robert swooped past me, giving a mocking cry. “I’ve been hacking your system for a year now. Hell, they put me in here for programming people’s minds to make them insane. Did you really think you could defeat me online?”
“Um, no.” I couldn’t move my body, so I just followed his path with my eyes. “That’s why I slit your wrists before logging on. Oh, and your jugular. I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long. You really might want to log off.”
El-Hadje’s hacking was taking effect, the world starting to break down as the netnet connection faltered. Robert logged off in a panic, and I sent an urgent text message to the area police stations, reporting a bomb threat. Not the best course of action, especially since when the system crashed, if I was still online I would go unconscious and be trapped in a dark room with a perhaps not-dead Robert. But I couldn’t move, was stuck in a stupid posture mid-kick, and couldn’t log off, so I had nothing better to do than send out some emails.
Which is why I’ve sent this email to you. As you can see, I’m in a bit of a tough spot. With luck, the cops will realize I was just trying to help, and they won’t press charges. They might even let me out of the asylum. But that still doesn’t help me get my safe deposit box. My Nigerian friend El-Hadje might want to take revenge on me, and I need protection. If you’ll just transfer $5000 to my account, I’ll be able to get my safe deposit box, and I’ll gladly share my millions with you. Please just help out a poor Korean Starcraft player who’s fallen on hard times.
Oh, and buy organic.
FireLance
Legend
Congrats to Speaker! I was half expecting the outcome (and half expecting Hellefire to win).
Thanks to all the judges for the comments. One of the problems I had in earlier CDM matches was ending weakly. In trying to end better, I seem to have wrapped things up too neatly this time. I will also have to work on describing things better. It's an old problem of mine - my school essays were often criticized for lacking detail.
Anyway, it's been a fun round, and I suddenly have the urge to stat out a half-fiend cold element dire tiger...
Thanks to all the judges for the comments. One of the problems I had in earlier CDM matches was ending weakly. In trying to end better, I seem to have wrapped things up too neatly this time. I will also have to work on describing things better. It's an old problem of mine - my school essays were often criticized for lacking detail.
Anyway, it's been a fun round, and I suddenly have the urge to stat out a half-fiend cold element dire tiger...
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