New Contest

[General Scum]

Ok given Paul's feeling that the turn might not come out till next week, and given that we have memorial day coming up I'm going to post a contest.

Here are the rules.

Entries are to be any in character post of 500 words or more on Friday, Saturday Sunday or Monday. May 25-27. There is no limit to the number of entries allowed from any poster.

They can be flavor text surrounding something that's going on with your realm, a diatribe to the peers or electors, a poem, a character portrait, a dream sent to one of your leaders, anything at all that's in character. You (or any body else if they think you are ignoring your own good posts) can post a link to it in this thread to submit it for review in the competition. On Teusday, over one 24 hour period, a vote will be held to end at midnight on the best post. On Wednessday the winner will be sent $50 US American Gold on Paper.

Gentlefolk start your engines. This turn shall be a doozy one way or another. Why not get ahead of the curve!

[Ryushi]

On Wednessday the winner will be sent $50 US American Gold on Paper.

Hold on, let me get this straight, your giving one of us $50 for a contest?

[Galen]

I'm pretty sure that what is says

[General Scum]

Yeah

I'm getting very excited for the turn and just want to keep stoking the fires.

[Wombatia]

That's really cool Cort Let the games begin!

[ExLibrisMortis]

nice!!!

[Cupcake]

I can't wait to read what everyone writes!

[Galen]

Boy 500 words was just to short and went over even with paring it down

   Jera The Dean of the University of Ice stood at her blackboard writing an equations that would make even an experienced mathematicians head spin on the board. Beside the the occasional popping of the fire in the fireplace, the only audible noise in the office was the scratching of the chalk. Jera found the sound rather relaxing.

   Jera who had been born in the Steppe had always been to smart for her own good, not mention she really didn’t agree with some of the more stringent traditions her tribe held to. Most of her tribe died along with her entire family in one of the many harsh winters she has seen in her lifetime.  Watching friends and families slowly starve to death is something no kindred should have to experience.

   After the death of her brother Jera became determined to end the scourge of the ice and set out to learn everything she could about the ice.  When University of ice was commissioned Jera despite being a saurian applied for a position. Jera was interviewed by the Queen herself who was so impressed with Jera’s knowledge of the ice named her Dean.

   Jera’s office was sparsely furnished  containing only a desk, a chair and several rows of shelves, stacked to the point of breaking with books, scrolls and miscellaneous odds and ends. A row of windows along one wall provided all the light she needed despite the frigid air outside it was bright and sunny day.   While the ice and not math was Jera’s area of expertise she enjoyed the challenge and the temporary distraction it provided.
      
   As Jera sat down her chalk and stood back from the blackboard to examine the equation for accuracy a knock came from her office door.

   Jera said “Enter” as she brought her hood over her head crest, while she might be a progressive thinker for a saurian, some traditions she just couldn’t break.

   The door opened and a messengers from the palace entered or at least that is what Jera thought the melbolge was.  Jera had become pretty good about distinguishing the different caste of the melbolge but there were so damn many of them she was sometimes wrong.

   As the messenger entered Jera said, “You have a message for me.”

   “Yes Mistress,” the melbolge said. Jera hated being called Mistress it was to formal of address for her but Jera had given up a longtime ago on trying to get the more minor melbolge to address her differently. “The Regent was requesting a status update on the Comet.”

   Of course the Comet Jera thought to herself it was all she heard about these days as if the ice wasn’t still there.  “I have told the Department of Disasters to give it their top priority,” Jera answered.

   “There is a Department of Disasters,” The messenger said in a perplexed tone.

   “Of course there is, when isn’t there some sort disaster going on in Sahul, wether it is a disaster caused by the ice, a volcano, a plague or a political one. Now back to the comet, given the reported size of the comet it seems far more likely that Sahul will be struck by fragment of the comet instead of the actual comet itself.”

   “How do yo know that,” the messenger asked?

   “Deduction, we know Sahul has been struck before by this comet,” Jera couldn’t help talking about the ice added,  “possibly even led to the start of the ice.”

   Jera could see another question coming from the messenger pushed on. “So unless the gods are out there with some cosmic slingshot firing giant boulders at us it probably the same comet that struck before.  Not to mentions if an object of that size struck Sahul, it would make the ice problem seem rather minuscule and I mean minuscule.”

   “How do you know that,” the Messenger asked?

   “Physics and mathematics, but I won’t bother explaining it as you wouldn’t understand it," Jera answered patiently.

   “What if it does hit,” the messenger pressed with curiosity.

   Jera snorted and said in a deadly serious voice, “If it does even the Yamion couldn’t  dig a hole deep enough to get away from the destruction.” Jera then said in a less serious tone, “On the bright side it is possible that even the damnable CRD would turn their eyes towards Urda before the lights went out everywhere, permanently.”

[Free Beer]

Boy 500 words was just to short and went over even with paring it down

It is a good thing that the post must be over 500 words then.

Entries are to be any in character post of 500 words or more on Friday, Saturday Sunday or Monday. May 25-27. There is no limit to the number of entries allowed from any poster.

[Averon Inc]

Oh wow! I missed that too, been trying to pare down a story to 500, even switched to a different point of view..

[Mandala of Blood]

“Those stars sure are pretty”

“Yeah.”

“The other ones.”

“Yeah, I understand.”

“That one?  That one is a little bit scary.”

“Yeah.”

“Want to hear something weird?”

“Yup.”

“I also think it’s really pretty too.”

“Yeah, me too.”

*water splashes off the waterwheel that drives the machinery housed lower in the mill*

“I heard people up North are panicking.”

“Yeah.  I heard that too”

“Especially all the pretty flowers in on the coast.  Their Mother is being all kinds of ‘we’re all gonna die’. I don’t get it.”

“Me neither.”

“They should move here and get a grip.”

“Yeah.  The Ice walls would teach them.”

“Patience and strength”

“Yeah.  Nothing teaches you determination and zizu like a new fallow field covered in five rods of Ice.”

“We don’t have to worry like they do.”

“Nope.”

“They just die the once don’t they?” 

“That’s what I heard.”

“So they don’t get why we aren’t panicking?”

“Nope.”

“You’d think they would.  I mean we know not to panic and we have spare time enough to hang out here and look at the sky.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, my father says that they don’t understand magic very well and the priest says “Mmoooooo Mmooo cadjooo Moo moo!”

*both youngsters break into peels of laughter, that echo off the icy canyons surrounding them, as the one speaking holds their hands to their head to simulate the horns of their young Gornya riding Priest*

“Oh wow, he would flay us alive if he heard that.”

“Yeah, thankfully we’re the last ones around.  We leave with the last of the flour and the pigs.”

“Or we die crushed under the ice “

“Before the Ice gets me I’ll take my own life. Death by Bacon!”

“Yeah.  Death by Bacon would be pretty sweet.”

“Salty probably.”

“Yeah, at least our drinks would stay cold.”

“Yeah, warm drinks.  Horrible way to die.  All comfortable and squishy.”

*breaking the silence is the grunt, grunt of the few last live hogs in the district rooting around in the straw down below. There is a pause in their grunting…as if someone just walked over their grave…*

*My cousin Saffira got a room on board.  Any of yours?*

*Nope.  All shipped to the Dawnlands.”

“Coastal or upcountry?”

“Upcountry.”

“I heard it’s beautiful there.  Lots of thunderlizards but beautiful and high up?”

“Yeah.  Maybe high enough at the mountains. Not enough Ice to block the water though.”

“I heard those lizards over there are lousy”

“yeah, they’re Urdans.”

“Oh.  No.  I meant the bigger ones.”

“Yeah.  They’re not so bad once they’ve been tanned.”

“Are those boots warm?”

“Not really.”

“Do the girls like them?” *poke*

“No.  something about wearing scales on our feet is a bit offputting.”

“I can't imagine why?”

“Yeah.”

“Nothing says I love you like wearing a distant relative as ornaments.”

“Yeah, nobody likes a slacker.  Wear their first cousin at least!”

“My dad is working on the ship. We got spots on board.”

*silence descends for a short while between these friends*

“Oh.” …….. “I’m glad.”

“I asked if you could come too.”

“Yeah. I know you would’ve.”

*……………………………………….*

“when you go on board…will they let you take a dog? We have those two puppies.”

“Yeah, probably?”

“Then you should take them for company and for the future of dogs.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“If it happens.”

“Yeah.  If it happens. At least the stars are pretty tonight."

"yeah."

*Under the piles of hides and furs the young lovers embrace and watch the stars continue to wheel through the sky*

[Crimson Marque]

@ Mandala... Nice! 

I think what I like most about your long, well developed storyline (beginning at Turn 0) is your attention to the Yagnarists as a real people with real emotions, including love and care, flavoured with a rather morbid sort of facination with death, macabre, and dark gothic imagery.

Well done friend...

Count me in on the Contest.   

[Galen]

It is a good thing that the post must be over 500 words then.

That is what I get for skimming post at work.  I guess I will add back in and repost.

[MikeB21]

He was riding a kura behind the main army with the rest of the leaders. As he looked over the terrain he saw a vast array of men, their weapons and kura. They were broken up into their regiments marching in unison to the beat of a large bass drum. The colors of Pakoa were held high in the wind and each foot fall made the earth rumble.

He felt powerful leading an army of such magnitude. Looking to his right he saw his mentor, Haimona riding high on his own kura. He was much older. Wrinkles were on his face and grey was in his hair. Haimona was much older than he should be and the sight startled him. Was he striken with illness? He turned to his left to ask his mother, but she was not there. No one was. He was leading the army.

He grasped his hip and his family sword was there. The sword passed down through his mother's family for generation after generation. He went to touch his face with his left hand and upon his forearm was the shield passed down through his father's family for generations. This shouldn't be. His mother has the sword. His father has the shield. He lifted the shield to see his reflection in the back. His face looked aged in the waves of the old shield. Puzzled he lowered it...

He was now on a balcony high above an enormus square filled with thousands of cheering pedestrians. The sun was high with a warm winds blowing the flags. The crowd noise was dying down. What had he just said? What was going on? He raised his right hand which was holding his mother's family sword. The crowd errupted again. Looking into it's reflection he saw a small Wenemet dressed in robes of the church. She stood with her hands clenched in her front with a smile on her face. When he turned to face her the colors blended together like wet paint...

He was now in the farmers fields in a village he had visited many times when he was younger. The surroundings were different. More small houses were upon hills with fences surrounding their crops. There was a maiden gathering and he walked towards her. When he reached her, she looked up and began to cry. He remembered her, but she was much older. Wrinkles were upon her face and grey sprinkled her long pony-tailed hair. He reached out his hand to help her to her feet.

"Why are you crying?"

"You had said you would come back, but it has been so long. I just... I just thought this day would never come." She said.

"I don't know... I... I..."

"What?" His mother said.

"I..." He turned to his left and there was his mother. Everything was back to the present.

"You have had that vacant look upon your face for a while now, son. Try to keep your wits about you while we wait."

"Yes mother."

[Free Beer]

It is a good thing that the post must be over 500 words then.

That is what I get for skimming post at work.  I guess I will add back in and repost.

Excellent! I look forward to reading the entire story.