Forums Story Challenge (FSC)

[donteatpoop]

Let's try again, shall we?

Since none of you rose to the challenge save apotheosis and myself, and even then both of our entries were late, let's start a new one.

Deadline: Sunday September 30th at 11:59pm That should be plenty of time.

Don't punk out this time. You can do it, I know you can.

Once again, the forums posts only allow 1000 words so there will be a 1000 word limit strictly enforced by the system.

Genre must be fantasy.

On Monday I will post a new thread that has the title of all entries so that we can post them.
__________________________________________________ _______________

Do you want to make it anonymous so that it is completely fair? You could all message me with your stories and I could post them with the title only. Yes/No? Let me know so we can figure out how to do it.

[JJJ-thebanisher]

No. Post on this thread so the one thousand word limit is strictly enforced.

[Locke]

I could care less whether someone strictly observes the limit, but I think everyone's mature enough to vote for the best story regardless of who posts it. Especially as none of the more "controversial" forum figures of the past are around. That is plenty of time - I will definitely try to make this one.

[End Master]

Yeah post it in the thread. It’ll be easier than all the PM stuff.

I might get around to this. Dunno yet. Stay tuned!

[donteatpoop]

Cool. Glad you all feel the level of trust. Post your story when you're ready, then. Hopefully there will be enough time for people to participate this time around.

[Usoki]

Ben lay in the grass on the hill, staring up at the passing clouds. This was going to be a good week. The harvest had been completed months ago, the fields had been plowed, and everything was ready to be planted. But no peasant was allowed to sow his field before the festival of St. Binby, in case a cold snap were to move through the lands before the spring weather took hold. Most of the elders thought it an attempt by the nobility to supress the lower classes by restricting their income, but everyone else accepted it as a fact of life. Ben certainly didn't care- this was the only week of the year he could relax.

"Hiding out of view of the farmhouse, eh Ben?"

He didn't even bother to look up- it was just his father. The two really understood each other- his father was out in the field for most of the day, which left Ben, the eldest of seven, in charge of his three younger brothers as they completed their stable chores. Ben was mature beyond his years; a fact that his father had no problem understanding. His mother, however...

"Just make sure to be gone by the time your mother comes out to check the stables."

"But I already...wait, be gone? You mean, you...?"

His father just smiled at Ben's growing realization. "Well, I did. Your mother won't find out until later tonight. You're a young man, Ben. I want you to go out and see the world. She'll just have to learn to let go. I even managed to get the family sword for you to bring along."

"Dad, you're the best."

"Well, I try," he said, smiling. "And for God's sake, don't tell your mother I gave you the sword- I told her I'm getting one of the passing merchants to rewrap the hilt. You have the money the Widow Kanselda gave you in exchange for working the plow, right? That'll be enough to get you a room in a cheap Inn for a week, as well as a night or two on the town. But, really though, you'd better get moving."

"One last thing," his father said, as Ben started to walk toward the main road. "There's a reason Rural and Urban lifestyles are so different. Don't get caught up in city business, or you'll never see the end of it."
_______________________________________

Ben hummed an old jig under his breath as he walked down the path to the city. He had heard all sorts of stories about Cyssnea down at the local pub- any merchant worth his share could spin enough stories to keep the crowd buying him drinks. But 'stories' was the key word. Surely all of that talk about dragons and magical showdowns and fierce wars between rival armies was just talk? No one could possibly survive if the kingdom had at least three different wars per week, let alone the supposed amounts of terrible curses placed by evil warlocks. And if the princess is still getting captured once a month or so, the royal guard must have some serious issues. And yet... there was just something fascinating about the chance to be a hero...

His reverie was broken when he heard a shrill scream pierce the air. Running over the top of the hill, he was surprised to find a man instead of a young maiden. "With a voice that high, he should really consider wearing something other than a robe," Ben muttered under his breath. In fact, the robe was such a hideous shade of bright orange, it took a few moments for Ben's eyes to adjust and see the two bandits that were probably the reason for his shriek.

"Beat it, you punks!" he yelled, sounding a hell of a lot more braver than he felt. But luck was on his side, and the two ruffians ran at the sight of his sword. It was a good thing he didn't have to fight- the closest he'd come to using a sword would either be the wood-cutting axe or the harvesting sickles back at home.

"Are you okay?" he asked the cloaked man.

"I'm better than okay," he replied. "You saved my butt! Nice cutscene. Wanna join my party?"

"What?" asked Ben, confused.

"Oh, I get it!," he replied, unphased. "You're the main protagonist! An unlikely hero, out for adventure! Awesome! Let's go find some more party members so we can take on the evil warlord!"

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

"M'name's Raeh, by the way. Let's stop by the Bitter Leaf pub before we enter the city proper- I get this feeling we'll meet another ally there."
_______________________________________

"Wait," said Ben. "Why am I walking with you again? When the hell did I agree to buddy up with you?"

"What am I, a tutorial? Calm down, Ben, you can ask questions at the pub."

"I never even told you my...oh, God, this is gonna be a long trip," replied Ben. "Well, Dad," he added under his breath, "I think I failed at keeping out of city folk business- it just found me!"

[End Master]

Falcon woke up and his one eye fluttered open to see a blurry figure standing over him. Eventually his vision cleared and he saw the outline of a priest in a black robe. He must be a follower of Fel and in a temple of his. It would explain why the place was so dark

Falcon didn’t know how he got here. The last thing Falcon remembered before falling unconscious were an annoying rogue and his demon kin girlfriend somehow getting the better of him…but did he really die?

Then he realized he drew no breath.

“Hey Falcon you in there? Or are you completely brain dead?” the priest asked. He recognized the voice. It was Lazux. An Ebony Claw Syndicate affiliate that worked under him, not a full fledged member, but he had his uses.
“Yeah…what the hell’s going on?”
“You’re back from the dead…more or less. Um…you’re welcome?”

Falcon looked at his hands, they were decayed, his entire body was in fact. He didn’t even want to know what his face looked like.

“Wh…what the FUCK!? How long have I been dead?”
“I dunno, a few months...maybe a year…no longer than that though. I’m surprised that you’re as aware as you are now. Must be due to your strong faith in Fel.”

Falcon suddenly turned to Lazux and grabbed him by the throat. He might be dead, but apparently his reflexes were still good.

“Why the fuck didn’t you bring me back sooner or just leave me dead?! Did you think this would be funny and that I would wake up as some fucking mindless zombie for you to control? I want some damn answers NOW!”
“Hey! Hey! Easy there Falcon! There have been a lot of changes in Holgard, and you just got mixed up in the mess! If it had been up to me from the beginning I would’ve resurrected you a long time ago! I swear!”
“Falcon, while you may have some sort of favor with Fel, you will not be treating a dedicated member of his flock like that without my command. You’ll kill who I say to kill.”

Falcon turned his head and saw a beautiful woman. She looked familiar. It was Baron Varsakken’s daughter Ludmilla. What the hell was she doing here? In the meantime Lazux broke free of Falcon’s grip and stood by Ludmilla.

“Do not presume to order me about girlie. Your father may be ruler of Holgard, but the Ebony Claw…”
“My father is dead, as is the Ebony Claw Syndicate. At least its influence in Holgard is. Your only master is me, disobey and you can go right back to rotting. I’m giving you a second chance at life, I suggest you take it.”
“Falcon, she’s serious! Don’t try to attack her! She’s a High Priestess of Fel and has his highest favor!”
Lazux’s outburst quite possibly saved Falcon’s “life” again as his natural reaction would’ve been to attack her immediately after making such a threat and demanding servitude. Falcon however knew the powers of Fel and those who strongly associated with him were not to be trifled with. Indeed, even before he’d joined the Syndicate he always respected Fel and in time acquired powers for his worship. He could sense that if he made a hostile move, she could probably return him to a more final death.

Still, Falcon didn’t exactly know all of what was going on, and this bit of information was still a bit startling. All he figured the Baron’s daughter to be was some spoiled noble brat like her pansy ass brother. Never knew she was one of Fel’s chosen. Then again secrets like that aren’t too surprising. Fel is the god of Shadows after all.

Falcon presumed she probably killed her father. Probably her brother as well, to take absolute power. But the Ebony Claw Syndicate was gone here as well? How much exactly changed while he was dead?

“I’m sure you have many questions, all of which will be answered, but for right now, I am in need of your services as an assassin.”
“What? You mean to say you had me raised a year later just so I could go assassinate someone for you? I find that strange.”
“Perhaps…but that’s what you were raised for.”
“But why me? Surely there are plenty of living assassins…not as good as me of course, but easier to get a hold of. Not to mention that if you’re in control of Holgard now, as well as one of Fel’s Chosen, I’d wager that you’re not unskilled in the ways of assassination yourself.”

“Quite astute. Glad to see your mind is still fairly sharp. But if you wish to know a deeper reason, I shall give you one. As a ruler of a city, I have far more pressing concerns and simply do not have the time to get rid of every little nuisance personally. Such a job is beneath a woman of my stature anyway. Two, good assassins are harder to come by than you might think, but I expect the rebellion and mass executions might’ve caused that. Lazux here had mentioned you in passing and though you apparently weren’t as good as you thought you were, from Lazux’s praise and tales, it would appear that you were the best candidate despite the minor inconvenience of being dead.”

Falcon didn’t know if he should be flattered that Lazux spoke of him so highly, but he was certainly confused in any case. Ludmilla was talking about converting all of Holgard to worship Fel? He’s the god of shadows! He doesn’t want everyone to worship him, it brings attention!

Yes, lots of things had certainly changed while he’d been dead and there were still a lot of questions he had. In the meantime he’d have to play along to get them answered and somehow use this information to gain the advantage and get out of this predicament.

And if absolutely possible get revenge on his killers…

[donteatpoop]

One day when I was fifteen my parents took us to the beach, my sister and I.

They all love the beach; the sun, the water, the seagulls, the sand. I’ve never really been a big fan. The sun scorches my skin, the water smells like fish, and the gulls shit all over the sand.

I’ll admit that I did my share of complaining when they announced the trip. Okay, more than my share of complaining. I bitched and moaned all morning and for a good portion of the ride there.

I just don’t like the beach.

It’s not like they ever go anywhere I want. No treks through the forest. You can actually observe nature in the forest and find protection from the sun.

I guess it wasn’t a total loss hanging out there that day. I mean, that’s where I found the blue rock and all.

It was the weirdest thing; I stood there at the shoreline, waves washing over my feet and ankles while I stared out at the distant blue horizon. I’ve always been sort of mesmerized by the vanishing point where the water and sky become one. A particularly large wave hit me and knocked me off balance a little. I stopped myself from falling be re-adjusting my footing, but my foot landed on something warm and hard.

I admit that it freaked me out a little bit. I mean, you’d be freaked too if you everything in the water was cool and suddenly there was something warm touching you. At least I think you’d freak. I freaked, anyway.

I moved my foot and looked down to see a brilliant blue stone pulsating a bit with light. I stared at it for a while before working the nerve up to grab it. Eventually I took a deep breath and picked it up.

It wasn’t a large stone, somewhere between a pebble and a rock, but its color was intense. It was a shade of blue that I’ve never seen. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that I am the only man in history to have seen that blue. It was the most captivatingly beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

Something told me not to show anyone else, so I slipped it into a pocket and kept my mouth shut about it. Through the fabric I could feel its warmth pulsating, comforting me.

I took it home with me and slept with it under my pillow. It whispered to me in the night, its voice weak but angelic. It told me things, things no one is supposed to know, things I dare not repeat. Secrets.

In my dreams the strange blue stone was fixed in the sky like a strange star, it’s light bathing me with a sense of peace and tranquility. As a star it didn’t sound so weak. It spoke to me from above, telling me the secrets that I needed to know so that I could do what needed done. It told me I was chosen, that I hadn’t found it at all but the other way around.

When I woke the next morning I was filled with an inner calm that I had never before experienced. There was no anger, no suppressed frustration, no animosity. I was alive, so alive. It was like being charged up with caffeine but without the jitters and the shits and the hyperness. Okay, maybe not so much like caffeine. I guess it’s kind of hard to explain. I was awake but completely calm, like one of those zen heads, fully at peace with the everything.

I left for the walk to school the same as I did every morning, except that I didn’t walk to school at all. I had another destination in mind.

My feet did the walking, but the warm blue stone in my pocked guided me.

I soon found myself entering a local park that was seldom used. I’d only visited the place once or twice in my youth. Behind the rusted swing sets and see-saws was a patch of wood. I remembered little about the park, but I remembered this thick bit of wood quite vividly.

Something was off about the woods here, there was an eminent sense of foreboding about the place. I realized that there was a presence somewhere within the cluster of trees, an evil presence. Undoubtedly this was the reason the park was so seldomly used, the chill from bad trees did not make for a comfortable place to play.

The stone tried to comfort me with warmth, but I didn’t want to go in there. I wouldn’t say I was scared, necessarily, just... Okay, I was scared. Maybe terrified is a better word for it. This was no ordinary patch of trees, mind you. Something evil lurked within their shade.

You must move forward, the stone urged me. Put away your childish fears, this must be done. I will guide you, I will protect you. There was something in its voice now that I hadn’t heard before, a sense of urgency that bordered panic.

Despite my best judgement, I move my feet reluctantly forward, into the cluster of trees. Their shade engulfed me like the night. Outside this little grove it was daylight, but within it was the darkest of midnights.

The blue stone lead me to the very heart of the wood. A cold sweat poured from my body and my heart kept trying to beat through my chest. I was nervous. My legs were weak, my hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and I my stomach had that weightless feeling that it gets when mom drives fast over the dips in the road.

I tripped over a root and landed hard on the ground. Inches from my face was a dark glow pulsating from a black stone.

It spoke to me, told me things; terrible things, things I never wanted to know, things I dare not repeat.

[Vesnic]

The funny thing about procrastination is that it doesn't leave room for any extenuating circumstances. I was planning on submitting something tomorrow, but it's hard to see through tears, so, uh...next time.

[donteatpoop]

I'm sorry for your loss, Ves. Poor Fluffy.

time is upeveryone, see new thread for votes.

[Locke]

Time is up? Are you kidding me?

Deadline: Sunday September 30th at 11:59pm

Those are your words; by the contest rules the deadline shouldn't be for another twenty-four hours. I actually promised an entry for this one. It's going to be really irritating if you break your own rules and lock me out.

Anyway, whose time are we going by on these deadlines? I'm in the US central time zone, and I guess you are too, but there are others for whom "11:59" is different - be specific. I assume, in the voting thread, a "don't vote for your own" rule exists.

[donteatpoop]

Is it only the 29th? My apologies, I'm drunk and I thought it was the 30th. Maybe it's not. I'm probably wrong, I haven't looked at a calendar all day.

Ignore the thread with the voting in it. there's another day for this before i post the vote thread. Sorry locke. My fault entirely.

And I think est is fine for time, but I don't mind waiting for pacific if someone is on pac time and needs a few hours before they are done;.

[donteatpoop]

BUMP, to put this thread on top/ Ignore the original vote thread that i posted prematurely. thank you.

[donteatpoop]

So all that bitching and you still didn't finish your story? For shame, for shame.