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I'm participating in Traditional Games' monthly game design contest. One of the bonus objectives to the contest is to write a 1000 word piece of fiction about your game. I feel like I'm reading fanfiction at a writing workshop, which is the most embarrassed I've ever been for another human. I will attempt to critique this week. I hope you rip me apart. Unfounded Rumors (1000 Words) The Ludus was built into the cliffs overlooking the southernmost inlet of the Great Lake of Fire. To reach there, one had to either fly or travel away from the highway to Pandemonium through a series of labyrinthine paths that circled back into themselves as often as not. It was a holdover from a more adversarial age in Hell, when contests between Princes rolled back and forth across the boundless expanse of the underworld. The Ludus had suffered the eons with enough dignity as one could expect, but its owner was not sure he could say the same. Kimaris sat in the vault that rested in the bowels of the Ludus, behind a door only he knew existed. All around him, piles of milky white coinage shifted and moaned about each other. They were souls, each one representing a doomed mortal; the closest thing Hell had to a hard currency. For the first time in as long he could remember, Kimaris began to sweat. There had been a Harrowing in Hell. Clerical errors happen, as often above as below, and small strains of good had been found in many souls. Kimaris and many like him had gone to their vaults only to find their treasure halved and their position of power threatened. Kimaris picked up a handful of coinage in his tremendous paws and watched as it squirmed away from him and clinked to floor, leaving his grasp as easily as his fortune had vanished. Without means for taxes and tribute, it was entirely possible he could end up on the same ichor stained sands the gladiators he had trained fought on. A pig faced little bird crashed through the vault’s messenger vent, carrying a small scroll in its mouth. It landed gingerly on Kimaris thorny shoulder and he plucked the note away, absently feeding the creature a rat from his pocket. The bird squawked and retreated through the vent as Kimaris turned to exit the vault, with a wicked edge to his smile. In the courtyard of the Ludus, new recruits sat shackled in the black sand. From the balcony overlooking the crowd, Kimaris saw his salvation. The captive stood tall above the motley bastards alongside him, a captured seraphim. Covered in wounds, bound in seals, and wrapped in chains, it was the most dangerous being Kimaris had seen since a stray god from an alien pantheon had wandered into their realm. Kimaris walked down into the courtyard, his many eyes assessing the recruits. Many had held some station in Hell at one point or another, brought low by the ever-shifting politics of the damned. Kimaris could place demons from at least three different beliefs. Hell was nothing if not welcoming. A sentient storm that had been lashing out against its bottle-prison with bolts of lightning stopped as Kimaris raised his hands and began to speak, “To those of you who would curse me, hold your breath! Many of you, the damned among the damned, were born into a high caste, only to find yourself here on your knees before me.” Kimaris paused, looking intently at the faces of those who had faces to judge their reactions; the storm spirit had turned a light shade of chartreuse. He raised his voice, saying “Some of you will die on the sands of Pandemonium’s arena. Those of you that may yet rise up from this, however, will not do so without my help. For the grand champion this year, I promise this, freedom.” The seraphim’s eyes narrowed at this, and Kimaris repressed a smirk before continuing, saying “I have time for three gladiators in my school. Those that emerge from here will be as fine as any that have ever left a Ludus. Now, earn your place.” Kimaris clapped his hands, and while the seals and collars on the gladiators stayed in place, the chains and restraints fell off. Kimaris retired to the balcony above the courtyard, and dined on an embezzling bishop he had been saving for a special occasion as the chaos below played out. By the time his meal’s screams had subsided, the seraphim and two fiends, one a vicious poet who had torn his competition to shreds with the power of verse and the other a large silver woman with a distorted face and blades jutting from her body, were the last beings standing. Each was splattered in some form of ichor or blood, as bits of ash borne from hellfire and holy flame alike fluttered about the arena. They stood still, compelled by the same seals that insured their obedience, as Kimaris rose from his chair and clapped his hands before his captive performers. Time spitefully defies reason in Hell, but it can be said that what seemed like much later the seraphim stood in Pandemonium’s final battle for the season, his colleagues from Kimaris’ school long since consigned to centuries of torment and rebirth in the Abyss following their defeat. Kimaris’ remaining student had become an infernal celebrity, drawing massive crowds and encouraging massive bets. Whether out of fear or respect for his abilities, the mute seraphim could not be sure, but its master had never interfered with his actions in the arena, allowing his unerring combat prowess to flourish. It did not resent Kimaris anymore than any other demon; the contest of the arena allowed it to do nearly as much as it would have done in the service of Heaven. The seraphim stood opposite a pillar of living flame and a giant blue djinn with a beard of frost. It closed its eyes, allowing its divine intelligence a moment to determine the correct course of action, and then moved beyond speed. Its fist struck, but not the target intended; An action that proved all others immediately following it meaningless. The seraphim experienced a moment of confusion, then for the first time in its existence, a moment of fear, and then oblivion. Some fortunes fall, other rise, and from his owner’s box, Kimaris smiles.
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Jan 22, 2013 07:39
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| # ¿ Apr 25, 2024 17:41 |
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