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Dec 9, 2021 01:23
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Dec 9, 2021 01:41
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Week 487 notes These are going to be very (very) short crits because the alternative is no crits at all. There are some general notes that could apply to multiple stories this week (and beyond), though. Allegories to contemporary life. One could make the argument that all genrefic is somehow allegorical to modern life, but I’m getting tired of stories that are 1:1 “our world, but genrefic.” I’m also tired of stories that feel like distilled doomgazing. If you’re going to wallow in the apocalyptic fixations of our time, at least use your imagination to make your own unique end-of-world projections! I’m not saying imagination will save the world, but if we can’t imagine a different, better world, we’ll certainly never get there. I think as storytellers it’s incumbent on us to chart new territory—even if our fiction isn’t hopeful, it can be imaginative. I would encourage everyone to consider telling stories that challenge contemporary narratives rather than reinforce them. A crush is not a personality trait! The fact that your character likes another character is not enough to make me care about them. Innate qualities as shorthand for conflict. This is a completely personal and kind of sensitive take, but any time I read, for example, about a fem character whose entire conflict is being a woman in a man’s world, I just sigh with fatigue. It’s like the trope of all queer characters dying tragically; the people who identify with your character want to see new conflicts. They want to see that character feeling curiosity, joy, defiance, hope, preoccupation, melancholy, giddiness. Bottom line, and this harkens back to a point I made above, I think readers are ready for stories that imagine something different. All of my favorite books and stories of the past few years address things like colonialism, capitalism, racism, homophobia, transphobia, abuse, and so on, but they do so from a well-examined, imaginative place—there’s this element of but here’s how it could be different. Consider how you want the reader to feel after their eyes have swallowed the last word. I mean literally: ask yourself what a person should feel after spending time with your story. Amusement? Sadness? Anger? Introspection? Bottom line, you should have an answer, because life is short and your readers are expending a bit of it on your writing. I’d rather be furious at a story than feel nothing at all. Individual story critlets: My Shark Waifu The ending negates the narrative arc of the character, but the setting is neat derp Style over substance, you didn’t need those 200 extra words but you did need more characterization a friendly penguin This is cute and gay but a little too paint-by-numbers for me captain indigo This made me laugh a lot, and even though you leaned on a lot of wizard tropes it feels like you put some thought into implying a fleshed out wizard word (also the jerkmate reference made me lmao irl and I had to explain why I was laughing to my SO) albatrossy rodent A nice riff on pubescent angst and jealousy, slightly overwrought at times but feels solid and dense UP This story should have started at this line: quote:[Chi] went to the great hall and told the Master of Rituals what he wanted. If you’re gonna be this depressing you need to dive deeper into the characterization. rohan I see you, fellow em dash and semicolon lover; I thought this was funny and sweet—if a little simple—and I thought it buttoned up neatly. Gorka There’s a congeniality to this story that I like, but your characters don’t seem to give any real thought to their own actions, nor do they think too critically about what’s happening around them. chernobyl princess I liked this until the random attack and then it became “beat bad guys, get loot”; I wanted to see Olyaga do physical therapy! flerp THANK YOU for not wallowing in the despair of our time and instead telling a story about empathy and open-heartedness as a way out of hopelessness carl killer miller I liked this a lot right up until the ending; I wasn’t sure what the opacity of the orb meant, nor was I entirely sure what lesson was being imparted. Chickenoftomorrow This story kind of progresses in a straight line with no real deviations from what I expected; try twiddling the knobs to address the same issues in an unexpected way. QuoProQuid This feels like distilled midwestern ennui dressed up as a silly story; totes thought elijah and enoch were gonna kiss but actually you’re right it’s better if they kiss AFTER they escape corn hell idle amalgam This is a pretty straightforward “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” story but I really like the writing; my advice would be to watch some of those longer sentences—you’ve occasionally got too many or too few commas, and frequently sentences would try to describe too many ideas at once, which causes a dovetailing effect (sort of like what’s happened in this very long sentence!). sparksbloom Lmao that is some incredible glossing over re: the heist, and I loved the dialog. chairchucker Yeah pretty much I can see the humor in this but I can also see how in 2021 you can't really write Hogan's Heroes-style nazis because uhhh nazis aren't actually gone, as it turned out man called m Idk what to say about this, good job submitting but this isn’t really a story and I have no idea what i’m meant to think or feel by the end! beezus This goes strong for the first two thirds of the story and I was actually feeling Myra’s pain, but everything with the orb just kinda felt arbitrarily mean; she’s a very sympathetic character and then she basically gets punished for trying to help her friend. curlingiron i love this poo poo, tessellations are one of my kinks Thranguy Really funny, and I think you chose the correct format for the story antivehicular I am so completely here for this story, also unitasker lmao i see u Alton yoruichi This is nice and there’s a lot of neat visuals to imagine but, and this is perhaps a personal pet peeve, i’m tired of stories about people whose defining traits are mainly that they have a crush on someone taletel Lotta typos and overall I don’t really feel like reading this was a great use of my time, however you acknowledged that with the shaggy dog ending so i have to give you some credit t a s t e This is competently written but the protagonist seems so completely unmoved by anything happening in the story; she obviously objects to what she’s doing, but she kind of just wearily accepts it as “just the way it is” and that makes her seem passive, even though technically speaking she takes a lot of action in this story. smebojo This was really funny, but the sentimental pivot to regarding the orb like a child took me a little bit by surprise at the end. Muffin I feel like I’m not fully following what’s going on in this one-sided discussion but the voice is funny so on balance i think i liked this
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Dec 9, 2021 06:29
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Let's see what we got!    Chernobyl Princess posted:Seems hard.     Oh Rohan, dude, Fanfiction!? I didn't even know they still printed them.    
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Dec 9, 2021 08:58
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yeah alright in
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Dec 9, 2021 09:06
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:yeah alright in     The lovely Muffin was also kind enough to set up a google doc for trading if that's something anyone wants to do. https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/14q8gSNIfIdNCmlaGg4f1_20hfezNSuYq8OTFjoA6Ywc/edit#gid=0  To encourage trading, anyone who takes part in at least one trade gets an additional 200 words.
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Dec 9, 2021 17:24
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I'm putting up my ancient setting for a swap, but I have a question for this week's ruler... can we swap hell cards?
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Dec 9, 2021 20:51
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In.
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Dec 9, 2021 22:16
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Dec 9, 2021 22:19
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Dec 9, 2021 22:29
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Albatrossy_Rodent and I have agreed (in the Discord) to trade these two 
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Dec 9, 2021 22:32
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Idle Amalgam posted:I'm putting up my ancient setting for a swap, but I have a question for this week's ruler... can we swap hell cards? You can! Okay, okay Animal God...desert! Yes!....Nintendo....Ouroboros.     The Famous Child and The Void? Hmm... yeah that could be fun.     Yeeeesh.    
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Dec 9, 2021 23:37
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Deal me in
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Dec 9, 2021 23:57
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Dec 10, 2021 03:53
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While you're all busy getting over-excited about your cards, please remember that you will need to POST THEM WITH YOUR STORY. Maybe paste the image links into the gdoc or whatever you're writing in so they're right there come posting time? DO NOT MAKE THE ARCHIVIST HAVE TO GO HUNTING THROUGH THE THREAD FOR YOUR CARDS. This counts for double if you've been playing swapsies. Yoruichi fucked around with this message at 10:20 on Dec 10, 2021 |
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Dec 10, 2021 10:10
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My Shark Waifuu posted:Deal me in     Um...I mean that Hell card is probably something huh?    
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Dec 10, 2021 17:22
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anybody want to trade for "your story takes place on the internet"?
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Dec 10, 2021 21:16
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Sailor Viy posted:anybody want to trade for "your story takes place on the internet"? Do you want "before 2500 b.c."
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Dec 10, 2021 21:31
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Idle Amalgam posted:Do you want "before 2500 b.c." yes please!
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Dec 10, 2021 23:18
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gonna crack open a pack and see what kind of broken rares I can pile together
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Dec 11, 2021 03:44
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traded for
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Dec 11, 2021 03:46
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In.
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Dec 11, 2021 04:31
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Rohan and I have traded for
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Dec 11, 2021 09:50
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Uranium Phoenix posted:gonna crack open a pack and see what kind of broken rares I can pile together     Taletel posted:In. Umm...     --- And with that, sign ups are closed. Which is good, because I've not got any more booster packs and I'm not going on Ebay for them. Hell Card reveal coming in a moment.
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Dec 11, 2021 12:23
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Signups are closed Oh god, I dropped them all! Great, got rid of all the boosters I had on hand, so let's see how this goes! Hell Cards There seems to have been some confusion about Hell Cards. There's no avoiding them. They're in your hand. There is no "Oh well I'll drop the extra words and ignore the Hell card." No man, poo poo don't work that way, this is tournament rules. Glossary May - you have the choice to do this and get the words either way. Must - you have to do this and you get the words. OR - you can choose one of the options and receive the words. Okay let's crack the rule book open and see how this poo poo works. The Devil - The devil has favoured you. There is nothing you must do. +666 words. The Egg - Within the last third of your story you must have an egg hatch and something unexpected be inside. +400 words. The Queen of Denmark - Your story must either take its title from a track on John Grant's album "The Queen of Denmark" (+100 words) OR be recognisably inspired by a song from said album (+400 words). The Mirror - You may reflect another player's card and replace either your character, setting, plot or Hell. You lose the words from the card your replaced and gain the words from the new card. However, reflections are twisted and reversed, so what you get is a distortion of the original card. Interpret that how you will. (+400 words). Doppleganger - You may copy another player's card and add it to your hand. You do not replace one of your cards when you do this and take any effects or words that the new card carries. (+400 words). Scissors - You may cut up one of your cards. You lose the requirements of the card, but you keep the words that it carried. (+400 words). Lucky 7s - If you submit an entry this week prior to the deadline, you must accept an Amazon gift card from me OR provide a charity that you feel would benefit from a donation in your name. (+407 words). Twist and Shout - Within the last third of your story there must be a sudden twist. (+400 words). Tim Curry - You must contain the actor Tim Curry within your story OR you must contain a character portrayed by the actor Tim Curry within your story. (+400 words). The Mask Maker - If you are judged as winning or receive an HM, you may have your avatar or the avatar of another, changed to an image of your choice. If you receive a DM, a loss or do not submit, I will change your avatar to something of MY choice. (+400 words) The Ouroboros - Your story must begin and end with the same line. (+505 words). The Void - Your story must contain elements of cosmic horror. (+400 words). The Barbarian - Barbarians cannot read. Ergo, your story must be submitted in some other fashion than a regular post. You may read it, get a computer to read it, or show your words within an image or video. However, I appreciate that life can be busy so if you have to cheat or half-rear end this in some way, you will not be chastised. Maybe someone with more free time will trade with you? Freedom - You may quit before the submission deadline and will receive a no mention, as opposed to a failure. Freedom is powerful and Freedom is like air. When you have it, you don't stress about it. If you have no issues making a submission there will be players out there DESPARATE for this card. You should exploit that for trinkets and favours! (+400 words). White Card - This card let's yo... oh wait... okay so this is a secret. I will DM you. Nil - Your story must contain no speech OR your story must contain no punctuation. (+400 words). The Other Mirror - Ignore your character card (you still get its words.) YOU are the protagonist of your story. YOU as in YOU in real life. You may change your name to maintain anonymity but your character is YOU in this situation. (+400 words).
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Dec 11, 2021 12:56
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Sailor Viy posted:yes please!  Still up for this swap  ?
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Dec 11, 2021 14:20
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i traded my card collapse for trex's video game tournament card btw
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Dec 11, 2021 20:41
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Idle Amalgam posted:
yep, done!
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Dec 11, 2021 20:42
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Idle Amalgam posted:
If you also want to get rid of your egg card, hit me up on discord.
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Dec 12, 2021 00:44
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Yoruichi posted:While you're all busy getting over-excited about your cards, please remember that you will need to POST THEM WITH YOUR STORY. Maybe paste the image links into the gdoc or whatever you're writing in so they're right there come posting time? Also post the explanation of your hell card with your story.
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Dec 12, 2021 05:49
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Shark waifu and I have traded Devil gor Freedom.
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Dec 12, 2021 23:15
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Archived.
Uranium Phoenix fucked around with this message at 18:07 on Dec 31, 2021 |
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Dec 13, 2021 01:22
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Immaculate Conception 1,440 Words Prompt Info    AITA for Wanting My Husband to Get Rid of His Giant Egg Posted by u/[deleted] 1 year ago. No, it’s not a sex thing, but that doesn’t make what I’m about to tell you any less strange. Hmm, on second thought, I guess it is a sex thing. A month ago, my husband laid an egg. I know you’re probably already dismissing this post as fake, but it isn’t some stupid internet troll no matter how much I wish that it was. Unfortunately, he really has laid a loving egg and it’s about to our marriage apart. That said, it’s fair to say that this story began about ten years ago when we first started dating. I knew then that he was a family-oriented man and getting one started was pretty high on his life’s to-do list. After we were married, he wasted no time trying to get me pregnant. The problem there was that I didn’t want kids. I thought I would, and I knew that’s what he wanted, but it - it just isn’t for me. Still, we tried. I figured if it happened, that things might change for me. That I might see what every other mom was supposed to see. I knew it wouldn’t though. Life didn’t work that way. As it turns out though, we’re both infertile. His urethra was too narrow like a certain cartoon Texan’s, and I just stopped producing eggs one day. If ever there was a sign from the universe, there it was. What I did not expect… hell, what most rational people in this world would not expect, is that he would find a way to impregnate himself! You read it right. After multiple consultations with multiple doctors, he took it upon himself to rectify the diagnosis. He would twist fate in his favor no matter the cost. Searching through his browser history that was still there because I married a mostly computer illiterate technophobe, I came across some strange websites. The kinds of sites that never aged past the early nineties and were replete with animated GIFs, polls, and visitor counters. However, one site managed to detail a process by which a man could impregnate himself. It suffices to say that it was pretty involved. I would have considered it all a bunch of farfetched nonsense if it wasn’t for the Doberman-sized egg in my living room, and no, it wasn’t always that big. It started out no bigger than a chicken egg. I honestly thought it was just a prank that he was trying to play on me. He ran out from the bathroom with a slimy egg in his hands, pants around his ankles, talking about how it worked and how he was going to father their baby. It was the grossest overcommitment I had ever seen, and I let him know just how stupid I thought he was for the whole display, but as it turns out, he wasn’t bullshitting me. He really did lay an egg. That led to him deciding suddenly that he was a handyman. Keep in mind that at the time I still didn't know any of this was real. I thought he was either joking or had gone completely loving insane. He sectioned off the living room with hazard tape and made a nest from old blankets that had been cluttering up the garage. He then wheeled every light and lamp that wasn’t already fixed to the house into the living room and positioned them around the egg. After the first few days, I realized that it wasn’t a joke, and worse, that he wasn’t crazy. Crazy I could deal with. Crazy would have been a relief at this point. Instead, the egg had nearly tripled in size and did not show any signs of slowing down. It thrummed with a sickly energy, and I began to grow weary of it. Even being near it made me unsettled. At first, I was worried about the egg showing up. What if it happened again? What were the greater implications of him having laid an egg? Where did it come from? However, as the days turned to weeks and we approached this full month, now I just want the egg gone. I don’t care what happens to it, or where it came from. I don’t care where it goes, it just needs to be gone. Removed from the world forever. It’s something that shouldn’t be. I’ll post an update later this week. *** AITA for Wanting My Husband to Get Rid of His Giant Egg pt 2 Posted by u/[deleted] 1 year ago. I don’t even know where to start. A lot of you had some surprisingly supportive things to say. I don’t know if you took me seriously, or you just figured I was going through a stressful situation. Whatever the case, I genuinely appreciate it. Several others of you… well, thanks for listening! If you’re O-o-t-L, you can read part 1 of this clusterfuck here. So, things went from strange to catastrophically bizarre. My husband has basically become a bird. His body is covered in feathers, everywhere but his eyes, mouth, and feet. His mouth has become a beak, or it's well on its way. I’ve called… hundreds of people at this point. He’s still strong enough that he won’t let me take him outside. I can’t force him to see anyone, but he’s changing. I can tell it won’t be long now. The egg shifts at night. Sometimes I hear what sounds like crying, or maybe laughter, from beneath the shell. I’m not certain. I can’t get too close to the egg though. Not without him swooping in, berating me, telling me how I led him to this, how it shouldn’t have had to be this way. I stop him there, tell him that’s my line, and he flaps his wings at me in protest. I can tell he wants to peck my eyes out. Instead, he just huddles near the egg, pushes me away. The egg though… it seems to coo approvingly to these spats. I think I’m going to break it. *** AITA for Wanting My Husband to Get Rid of His Giant Egg pt 3 Posted by u/[deleted] 1 year ago. It hatched. I was going to break it. I was. I waited until he was sleeping, and I crept into the living room. I haven’t slept much lately, not with that- that thing in there, so it was easy to figure out the best time to destroy it. I was going to fix everything. Put things back to the way they were before all this madness. If you need to get caught up parts 1 & 2 are here and here. My husband is gone now, or what I recognized as my husband is gone. He had already transformed into some large chicken-like creature. He regarded me with an air of disdain that implied I was tolerated, but not welcome. The occasional cockeyed glance revealed what I believed was recognition of some distant past, but then he’d just scratch at ripped, feces-covered blanket, or burrow his beak into his plumes and settle back near the egg which had swelled to the size of a rather large man. I had the hammer in my hand, hovering near the top of the shell as the thing that had once been my husband snored on the other side. I thought about some monstrous, half-formed, chicken chimera with his features sleeping peacefully on the other side of the shell and bile flooded the back of my throat. I pushed it down with an effort and steadied my grip on the hammer when the egg began to deflate. Currents of steam pushed through the membrane of the shell softening it enough for the creature within to push and tear through it. I was compelled to help it. The thing my husband had become was less and less of the man he was previously and more of a giant chicken that had somehow found its way into my home. However, the egg he left behind. Well, at first, I was weirded out, but now that I hold this sweet little guy in my arms… I don’t know what I was ever worried about. The feathers itch more than I thought they would, and I haven’t gotten used to regurgitating my food yet, but each day our family seems closer and closer. This will probably be the last update. My fingers are elongating to support my wings and I don’t think I can type anymore, but I’m sure you’ll understaxzzzxfoeo
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Dec 13, 2021 05:58
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 A character is a researcher Your story takes place on a vacation A stranger comes to town In the last third of your story a twist must occurThe Right Thing 1492 words You don’t leave this job behind. I was on vacation in Hawai’i. I wanted something different, something utterly unlike home. I wanted warmth. And I wanted privacy, somewhere I wouldn’t have to think about work. A nice hotel room overlooking the beach in Honolulu seemed perfect. But then these kids kept kicking sand on people. I grabbed a magazine to read, trying to ignore their yelps and cackles of glee while they ran wild around the beach, knocking over other kids sand castles, using foul language, and flinging garbage all over the beach. “Hey,” I said once, trying to give them a chance. “Don’t litter, you see the signs?” The little boy looked shocked that I’d spoken, his big brown eyes were wide and round. But his sister put her hands on her hips and just laughed at me. “Mind your business,” she said, her tone decades older than her age. “The hotel pays people to clean the beach! We’re being job creators!” “That’s not how that works…” I tried, but they just ran off. I sighed and got out my notebook. I should have left it in the hotel room. No, I should have left it back at the office, but like I said, you don’t leave this job behind. Mikaela and Damon Anderson, I wrote. Evidence for Naughty List. I didn’t introduce myself earlier. The name’s McMittens. Cheery McMittens. I’m an investigator for Santa. So anyway, I was on the beach, taking my notes instead of drinking rum and enjoying the sunshine. I told myself it would stop there, though. I’d take my notes and check in when I got back to the North Pole. Some other elf was on the job. I was on vacation. Of course, it didn’t work out that way. I went back to my hotel, a little tipsy at the end of the night, and who should I see sitting outside of the room next door but the two holy terrors from the beach. They didn’t look like terrors now. They looked like scared kids. Mikaela was crying silently, her knees pulled up to her chest. There were fresh bruises on her upper arms. Damon sat next to her, his skinny arm over her shoulders. He had a cut over one eye. I used a quick glamour to hide my presence. “We gotta tell mom,” Damon said. His voice was terrible, unchildlike monotone. Mikaela shook her head. “She won’t let us see him anymore. You heard what he said.” “He’s drunk. He says all kinds of stuff when he’s drunk.” She sniffed, the first audible sound that indicated she’d been crying at all, and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “If he does kill himself though… it’d be our fault, wouldn’t it?” Okay. That was enough. I went back down the hall to drop my glamour and made a whole bunch of noise on the way over, giving the kids plenty of time to cover back up. I look like a grown human man when I’m in the world, see, and a random, tipsy, male, stranger isn’t exactly who you want to see you when you’re a vulnerable kid. As I expected, they’d made themselves scarce by the time I came back down the hall. Once in my room I placed a call back to HQ, requesting info on the kids. I received back a whole mess of data. See, the job isn’t just watching. It’s research into extenuating circumstances. Most kids, they ain’t assholes by nature. All kinds of poo poo can happen to make a kid act out, and denying kids in bad situations loving and thoughtful Christmas gifts would be, you know, super hosed up, right? These kids had been on the Naughty-With-Extenuating-Circumstances list since their parents split. Dad was an abusive shithead. Mom was nice enough but just the right combo of clueless, busy, and conflict averse that made her a perfect ignorant enabler. Well, poo poo. I’m not supposed to interfere. But I went into this job because I want kids to be happy, and I had an opportunity to do some good here. And to be honest I was kinda drunk and more than kinda furious at this guy and I wanted there to be some loving consequences, okay? So I did some elf magic and walked into his dreams and I found the little part that governs empathy, the one he’d turned off or had turned off for him by life ages ago, and I turned that fucker up to eleven. And do you know what? I went to bed after that and I slept like a goddamn baby, knowing that son of a bitch was having the worst nightmares he’d had since he was a kid. The next morning I didn’t see them. The kids weren’t on the beach. I didn’t hear anything from the room next door either. I started having some doubts about my excellent plan. So I sent a sheepish report back home, letting them know what I’d done. I fully expected a censure. What I didn’t expect was a strange, thin man in a suit to appear across the breakfast table from me, smiling disconcertingly. He wasn’t thin like a skinny human. He was thin like a broom handle, like a being with no bones, or at least bones very unlike those of a human. He smiled like he was in pain, like the joints of his jaw didn’t work properly. “Hello, Agent McMittens,” the man said in a deep baritone. “I am Scaldretch, imp of the fifth circle. I am led to understand that you are one of Father Christmas’s elves?” “Yeeees,” I said slowly. I tried not to shake in my seat. I’d never met any sort of infernal being before, and I really didn’t like that he knew my name. “What, uh… what brings you here?” Another one of those painful smiles. “Why, can an imp not appreciate the natural beauty of Hawai’i?” “Uh…” “Oh don’t trouble yourself with it.” Scaldretch placed a single sheet of paper on the table. “Your actions last night interfered with an active Temptation and required a costly reversal. Mr. Ronald Anderson is under my tutelage, Agent McMittens, and so I am here to serve you with an Infernal cease and desist order. You are not to interfere with my client any longer.” I grabbed the paper off the table and read it. It was just a few lines of print, imps of wrath weren’t as big on the legalese as others of their kind, but I recognized that seal. “I don’t care about him,” I growled. “But you’re hurting the kids.” “No,” he said primly. “He is hurting the kids. That’s the point, you see. Simply possessing someone and forcing them to do evil doesn’t lead their souls to hell, it usually does the opposite. They wind up seeking redemption for sins that aren’t even theirs to begin with. No, he wants to hurt his kids. I merely point out the easiest paths for him to do so.” My jaw just about hit the table. “That’s loving horrible!” He laughed. I’d heard more pleasant sounds from a garbage disposal. “Of course! That’s the point! Now, if you come near my client again, I think you’ll find that I am quite within my rights to tear your spirit asunder and mail your corporeal form back to your loved ones in quite a few very small boxes.” He took my glass of water and drank it in one gulp. “Goodbye, Agent McMuffin. Have a lovely holiday.” Not going to lie, I fumed there at the table for a long while. But then I got to thinking. I’m a Christmas elf. It’s not my job to punish bad guys. It’s my job to give gifts. The truth is a gift. So I gave it to the kids’ mother. She showed up to Hawai’i earlier than dad expected. He wasn’t on his best behavior. He was drunk as hell and screaming at the kids when she showed up. Mom was shocked, but my gift had lifted the scales from her eyes, as they say. She packed up Mikaela and Damon’s things while he raged and cried and screamed at her and them and God and everybody. In less than an hour, the kids were safe with their mother in a different hotel on a different island. Back at the North Pole, I got a quiet commendation and a stern warning to never do poo poo like that again. Nobody wants to deal with infernals, even if thwarting them is the right thing to do. After a while of therapy and living in a less toxic place, the kids ended up on the Nice list, without any qualifiers. And Scaldretch called me, furious. “You son of a whore! Your meddling cost me a soul!” He screamed. “He’s in anger management therapy now! What the gently caress am I supposed to do with that?!”
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Dec 13, 2021 06:30
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Here are the cards in the same order I posted their meanings, sorry for the fumble!   
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Dec 13, 2021 06:37
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A GOD AMONG NERDS this is a link to a twine game that should work i hope. https://flerp69.itch.io/a-god-among-nerds
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Dec 13, 2021 06:46
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The Chameleon - A character has the ability to shapeshift. +350 words. Knowledge - Your story takes place at a school, university or other centre of learning. +250 words. The Quitting - A job is quit or a responsibility is shirked. +300 words.  The Devil - The devil has favoured you. There is nothing you must do. +666 words. Card traded. +200 words. An Audience of One 1527 words The Oakfield High School for Mages was renowned across the country for its theatre department. The actors it produced went on to have illustrious careers, as did the backstage illusionists, conjurors, telekinetics, and pyromancers. The class of 2023 also had a rare talent: a shapeshifter called Morgan. They were assigned the roles that were more difficult for typical high schoolers– an old woman, a man with a donkey’s head, even a dog– and excelled at all of them. “Maybe I should quit,” Morgan said to their girlfriend, Titania, cuddling on the couch in the green room after rehearsal. Titania wrinkled her nose. “Why? Me, I only joined theatre to get my last illusions credit and because you were doing it. But you love acting.” Morgan put their head on Titania’s shoulder. “Theatre’s been so much more fun with you around. And I do like acting, but I feel so underappreciated! I keep getting stuck with these bit parts while Viola gets the leads. She was terrible at Lady Macbeth last year, way too pretty.” “Viola gets the leads ‘cause she’s good at charms. Miss Gower knows the audience will cry like babies at her death scene.” “Yeah. Plus her boyfriend John’s playing Romeo, so they’ve got chemistry. Still, I know I could do a better job.” They shifted into a fresh-faced woman. “What's in a name?” they said softly, gripping Titania’s hand. “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Titania clapped and kissed them on the cheek. “Very good! At least I get to see you perform.” “An audience of one,” Morgan said, shifting back to their usual androgynous shape. “Just once I want the whole auditorium applauding for me.” Titania squeezed their hand sympathetically. “I know. You deserve it, too.” “Maybe there’s a way … I’m the default understudy because of my ability. It’s never come up before, but what if Viola wasn’t able to perform?” “That would never happen. Remember her singing last year even though she had strep throat?” “Haha, yeah, extra-strength charms on the audience for those performances. But maybe there’s a way to put her out of commission, even for just one night, so Miss Gower and everyone can see me.” Titania raised her eyebrows. “Ooh, sabotage?” “Yeah. It’s gotta be clever though, I don’t think even a broken neck would keep her away from her final play as a senior.” Titania thought, then snapped her fingers. “You know how Viola’s always here early to do her makeup in peace?” she said, mocking Viola’s snobbish voice. “Yeah?” “I’ve got a plan, but it’ll take a week or so to set up.” Morgan grinned. “I knew you’d think of something.” “Anything for you, babe. Look at this.” Titania waved her hands and the green room turned into a solemn, slightly spooky crypt. “What do you think of my Act 5 illusion? I’ve been working on the details on the tomb for ages.” Morgan dramatically collapsed onto the dusty-looking floor. “It’s really good!” # Morgan waited, counting down the days until opening night, until Titania announced that her masterpiece was ready. They met at the theatre early to set up, then Morgan, taking on the appearance of Miss Gower, hurried over to Viola as soon as she sat down at her mirror. “There you are!” Morgan said, perfectly imitating Miss Gower’s wide-eyed mannerisms. “This invitation came for you last night! Oh, I’m so excited for you, my dear!” Viola examined the seal on the letter and Morgan held their breath. Titania’s illusion held and Viola let out a yelp of joy. “Oh my God, they want me to audition tomorrow! The Fairview Mages Travelling Shakespeare Company, look, it’s got their mark and everything.” She shoved her makeup back in her bag. “I’ve got to go prepare a monologue!” Morgan was already jumping for joy internally, but she had to remain in character. They wrung Miss Gower’s wrinkled hands in worry. “But the final dress rehearsal is tonight, and opening night is tomorrow. Will you be back in time?” Viola scoffed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Who cares, that shapeshifter freak can do it. This is my chance!” Morgan bristled at the insult but kept their cool. It didn’t matter: Viola had already disappeared through the stage door. Titania dropped her illusion of concealment. “What a bitch, but you were brilliant! I think Miss Gower is your best role yet.” Morgan shifted back to their own form, then swung Titania around in a big hug. “Yeah, but did you see her? She only had eyes for the letter. You did great on the seal.” “Thanks! Now we’ve gotta act like we know nothing.” Hand in hand, they scurried off to the green room to wait for the rest of the cast. The next hour was chaotic. The real Miss Gower was so flustered by the disappearance of her leading lady that she didn’t even register John mentioning that Viola had gotten the letter from her. Morgan pretended to be surprised when Miss Gower finally remembered that there was an understudy. They graciously stepped into the role, shifting into Viola’s form so the costumes fit perfectly. The new actors for Morgan’s old roles wandered around backstage, practicing their new lines, while Miss Gower hovered over Morgan to make sure they knew all the blocking. They did, of course, even though Titania kept catching their eye and grinning from backstage. At the dress rehearsal, they nailed the entire script. Miss Gower beamed but John sulked, clearly resenting the fact that Morgan, despite their appearance, was not Viola. Titania skipped over to Morgan after the rehearsal. “You were great! You even made kissing John seem like a desirable thing to do.” Morgan laughed. “It’s not, trust me.” “Good,” Titania said. “I can’t wait for your debut tomorrow!” # Morgan felt pure excitement the next night. Titania brought them flowers for the opening and couldn’t stop smiling. Miss Gower was frazzled as, again, one of her leads was missing; this time, it was John. Morgan didn’t worry about him, up until the point, half an hour before curtains, when he arrived with an angry Viola in tow. “There you are!” Miss Gower exclaimed. “Where have you been, my dears? And Viola, are you ready to perform?” “I was sent on a wild goose chase!” Viola shouted. The rest of the cast and crew stopped to stare. “You gave me a fake letter that said I had an audition with the Fairview Mages, but I waited outside their building for ages until John came to get me!” “My uncle’s on the board,” John explained, “so the letter seemed fishy to me.” “I didn’t give you any letter, let me see it,” said Miss Gower. Viola produced it with a flourish and Miss Gower put on her glasses. “This seal is accurate enough to the naked eye, but it’s an illusion. It looks like … Titania, in my office now!” Titania grimaced and marched off to the backstage office. Morgan blew her a kiss of support, but that just reminded Miss Gower of their existence. “You too, Morgan!” she barked. The pair slumped in Miss Gower’s folding chairs as she shut the door behind them. “I’m very disappointed with you. The theatre is a family, it only works if we all work together on the show. We don’t sabotage the show with childish pranks. Titania, for your involvement I’m afraid I have no choice but to ban you from this and future performances.” Titania gasped. “What about my illusions credit?” “There’s always summer school,” Miss Gower said. Titania looked appalled, as though Miss Gower had just shot her pet. “Now, please leave the theatre.” “I’ll see you after the performance, yeah?” Titania said to Morgan, her voice shaking. She shut the door loudly behind her. Morgan’s heart sank; they felt their desire to perform on stage leave with her. Miss Gower rubbed her temples. “Now, Morgan, I can’t prove you were involved, but we both know you were. Look, I need you to remain for this play, God knows no one else–” “I quit,” Morgan said, standing up. Without Titania in the audience, what was the point? “I quit right now. I’ve already proved myself as an actor, audience or not.” Before Miss Gower could recover from the shock of losing yet another performer, they left. Ignoring the eavesdropping cast, they ran out the theatre, heavy door banging behind them. “Hey Titania, wait up!” Morgan caught up to her halfway across the parking lot. “Sorry to get you kicked out of the play.” “Wait, don’t you have to start the show in ten minutes?” “Nah, I quit. I feel like I’ve already done my best acting, what else could they teach me?” Morgan took Titania’s hand. “Plus, I couldn’t let you take all the blame.” “Aw, that’s sweet,” Titania said. “I bet I could create an even better audition invite to the Fairview Mages for you too, if you want. Though you could probably earn a spot all on your own.” Morgan smiled. “I love you. Want to go to Denny’s?” Titania grinned. “Sounds perfect.”
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Dec 13, 2021 07:00
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The Second (400 words): A character is the second in command to a powerful figure. Fan Fiction?! (500 words): Your story takes place in a universe from a pre-existing work. The Bargain (250 words): A character trades something intangible. Tim Curry (400 words): You must contain the actor Tim Curry within your story OR you must contain a character portrayed by the actor Tim Curry within your story. +200 for card swap Total: 1750 words The Wild Wizarding World 1750 words ‘And you’re sure this will work?’ It takes all my willpower not to just make Teddy a toad until we’ve reached McGonagall’s office. I round on him, grab his robes, and pull him close. He swallows, hard, and looks away. ‘For the—seventeenth—time,’ I hiss, ‘no. I’m not sure this will work. And I’m not getting any more sure with you asking me every second moment. Are you sure you want to be involved?’ ‘Let him be, Eli,’ Victoire says, folding her arms across her chest. ‘He’s here, isn’t he?’ Oh, right, that’s why I haven’t turned Teddy into a toad. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and release Teddy, who takes a few steps away from me. Victoire doesn’t make any effort to console him, which is just as well, because there aren’t many places here I could quietly be sick without them noticing. ‘Look,’ I say, eyeing them both. ‘We don’t have much time. The first-years are on the boats already, and I don’t know how long George’s distraction will last.’ ‘Right,’ Teddy says, straightening his collar but not looking me in the eye. ‘Sorry. It’s just—when we hear the stories, they always seemed to have more of, y’know … a plan?’ ‘They’re stories,’ I tell him. ‘Of course they’d make it sound like they knew what to do. We can make it sound better afterwards.’ ‘Let’s leave this out,’ Victoire murmurs, under her breath. ‘Eli’s right. Once the boats are across the lake, McGonagall will come to collect the hat from her office. I’d like very much to be back in the common room, drunk on luneshine, by then.’ Teddy squares himself up and nods, and Victoire takes the lead as we set back up the tower, staying as close and as quiet as we can. *** I hadn’t had many friends, growing up. Living a life that took me from the Amazonian jungle to the African veldt will do that; nevermind that I realised, pretty early on, that I was … different … to other children. And then, one day, an owl appeared — and it told me about another world, another set of mysteries. My abilities had not gone unnoticed, and there were ways I could learn to harness this potential, and meet other children with similar backgrounds. It was an easy decision; as vast and as mystifying as the natural world was, this was my invitation to a new, secret world, full of its own discoveries. I don’t think anyone had expected the discovery I’d end up making, however. *** We’re about halfway up the stairwell when a burst of light shines through the windows beside us and we all crowd around to look. There’s the distraction: a thirty-foot-long dragon made of lightning, looking every bit as impressive as I’d imagined the real ones could be, circling the lake and shooting fireballs into its inky depths. The coxswains, in their panic, spin their boats around, or throw themselves overboard, or, in a handful of cases, manage to capsize entirely. ‘Heavens,’ Victoire murmurs, stepping back from the glass. ‘I hope the first years can swim.’ ‘They’ll be fine,’ I say. ‘Hello, magic lake?’ I look back at Teddy, who’s gone a bit pale. ‘They’ll be fine,’ I repeat. ‘Come on, this won’t keep them forever.’ At the next landing, we come across the gargoyle, the first line of defence against the headmaster’s office. Victoire approaches it first, and it opens one stone eye to inspect her. Password? it asks, its voice a grating timbre. ‘Lemon sherb—’ Teddy starts, and for once, Victoire shushes him before I can. A long time since that’s worked, the gargoyle intones. Are you certain you belong here? ‘Cheeseburger,’ Victoire says. Very well. ‘Is that all?’ Victoire asks, smirking. The gargoyle makes a harsh scraping sound of disgruntled granite, and says: You can has passage. Teddy stifles a chuckle, and Victoire smiles indulgently. ‘I don’t get it,’ I say. ‘Oh, right,’ Victoire says, as the heavy doors beside the gargoyle swing open. ‘I forgot you spent your muggle years in the middle of nowhere.’ We make slow progress—this stairwell, it turns out, moves. Eventually we manage to time our jumps between the various stairwells and landings to reach the top of the tower, and stand before a door guarded by the second challenge. ‘Okay, this one’s all you,’ Victoire says, standing aside to let Teddy approach. He cracks his knuckles and kneels down before the plinth, upon which rests some sort of board with black and white pieces in formation. It looks like—a game? The second challenge is a game? Teddy moves one piece—ivory, which I can only hope is fake—and some invisible opponent moves a black piece in response. Teddy draws a sharp breath, his fingers lingering over another piece, and then rocks back on his heels, murmuring softly. I chance a look through the stained glass window beside the landing. Down on the lake, the dragon is unravelling into wisps of blue smoke, and some boats have managed to reach the far shore. Teddy moves another piece, and the response is again immediate, causing him to run a hand through his hair and glare up at the ceiling. ‘What’s the hold-up?’ I ask. Victoire turns to glare at me, but doesn’t say anything. ‘It’s the Wizard’s Offence,’ Teddy breathes. ‘I’ve only heard rumours—it’s elegant, cleverer than I could imagine—the symmetries—’ I roll my eyes. ‘Vic, what did you say McGonagall could turn into?’ I ask. ‘Um, a cat?’ ‘Right,’ I say. ‘And what would a cat do?’ Victoire bites her lip and looks at me. Teddy reaches out to move one of the many identical-looking pieces, but I reach out with an arm and sweep them all off the board. Teddy cries out in shock, Victoire steps forward to catch the falling pieces, and the door beside the plinth swings open. *** Even when I’d arrived, I never felt like I truly belonged. The other kids had grown up learning all about this other world and its history, but I couldn’t even work out what the stockings were all about. I’d spent my lunchtimes at Hagrid’s most days, talking to whatever strange creatures he’d bought (or been followed home by) and helping him understand their particular needs and desires. Animals had always been easier for me; even if they now breathed fire, or turned invisible, or had eyes on their legs, at least they never filled my shoes with mud. Animals didn’t worry about whether you did or didn’t belong. They accepted you for who you were, and didn’t judge based on your family, or your age, or— At the end of my first year, I went home and wondered where I’d gone wrong. By the start of the second, I knew exactly what to do. *** We’re about to escape with the Sorting Hat when a cat leaps down off the bookshelf and lands before the door, turning to take us all in, its back an arc of disapproval. ‘Is that — no, it can’t be,’ Victoire says. ‘We all saw her downstairs, there’s no way she’s made it here so quickly.’ ‘Maybe it’s her pet,’ Teddy offers. I kneel down before the cat, reaching out to its collar. ‘Hey there,’ I say, ‘what’s your—’ Before I can finish, a cloak appears to wrap the cat in its folds, and it stretches up, growing wider and taller and fuller, until I’m kneeling down before Headmistress McGonagall. ‘You’ll find Professor Sprout is a very effective Headmistress,’ she says, drily, ‘when under the effect of polyjuice potion. You should have heard all about that,’ she continues, looking me in the eye, ‘Eliza Thornberry.’ I feel Victoire stiffen beside me, and I’m about to open my mouth when Teddy steps forward. ‘He’s not Eliza,’ he says. ‘Professor.’ ‘Well,’ McGonagall sighs, ‘that’s a relief. I knew Eliza would know better than to get involved in this nonsense. Go on, then — who took the potion to become Eliza Thornberry?’ I shake my head and spread my hands wide. ‘No, professor,’ I say. ‘I was Eliza. Last year. But now I’m — Eli. Eli Thornberry.’ She frowns, tilting her head. I stand, dust the dirt from my robe, and part it to reveal my trousers and sweater. (Who needs stockings?) ‘But—but you’re—’ she says, gesturing to me, ‘a witch.’ ‘Why?’ I ask, shoving my hands into the pockets of my robe. (Another perk: witches’ robes never had pockets.) ‘What makes me a witch?’ ‘Teddy,’ McGonagall says, turning to him, ‘don’t tell me you’re a part of this. You’re the next Head Boy. You’re to set an example for the students, second only to this office, you can’t be involved in—whatever heist you’re attempting here.’ ‘I’m sorry, Professor,’ he says, holding his chin high. ‘It was—our idea.’ ‘The Sorting Hat is garbage,’ Victoire pipes up, holding it tucked under one arm. ‘Millinery shouldn’t play a role in dictating a student’s environment. You can’t say someone’s a Slytherin in their first year and then have them be a Slytherin forever. The sooner we rid ourselves of this archaic nonsense, the sooner we can embrace more—’ she gestures to me, ‘—modern behaviours. Face it, McGonagall, the Wizarding World is out of touch.’ ‘The Sorting Hat is a five-hundred-year-old tradition,’ McGonagall sputters. ‘Yeah, and so are witches earning seven sickles to a wizard’s galleon,’ Teddy retorts. ‘Should we keep that, too, Headmistress?’ She reaches out for a chair, and settles down into it. Warily, she looks up at me. ‘So,’ she says, ‘you’re—a wizard, Eliza.’ ‘Eli,’ I correct her. ‘I’ve also decided to become a Hufflepuff, while we’re swapping arbitrary concepts. They seem to have more fun.’ McGonagall rubs her temples. ‘Dumbledore had it easier than this,’ she sighs. *** I’m at breakfast the next morning, recounting the — somewhat edited — story for the ninth time, when an owl swoops through the top-most window and flies toward my table. A hush falls upon my audience as it drops a crimson envelope on my scrambled eggs, and one of the first-years pipes up with, ‘A howler! I thought they were pretend!’ I reach out, but at my slightest touch the envelope bursts open and turns into an origami face, flushed red, with an enormous moustache. ‘I heard about your adventure last night,’ it cries out, my father’s voice echoing around the dining room. ‘And I just wanted to say: blaaarghghhhgg, that was SMASHING, poppet!’
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Dec 13, 2021 07:13
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    The Queen of Denmark:Your story must either take its title from a track on John Grant's album "The Queen of Denmark" (+100 words) OR be recognisably inspired by a song from said album (+400 words). Word Limit Total: 800 It's Easier 800 Words Miami. If you hear about any Florida man doing stupid poo poo, he’s probably from here. While action happening in Miami is cliché as all hell, the truth is, poo poo happens here. It’s kind of like the Nazis. They were cliché villains, but they existed, and were that evil. In my 30 years in the Coast Guard, I’ve seen it all. From drug busts to cats in palm trees. From rapes to weddings. Well, it is the 80’s, people are doing lots of coke and voting for Ronald Reagan. In Miami, they send folks like me for the former. Recently, I have been training some of the newer members of the Coast Guard. While many of them were good people, one recruit I had a particular bond with. Seaman Recruit Jake Aguilar was a young punk who didn’t know what the hell to do with his life. At first, he was insubordinate as all hell. I would get to his face all the time. Then I started to get to know him. I thought I lived in a broken home, but when I heard Jake talk about his life, most of the time I responded with, “loving hell.” It was through each of us knowing each other that we started to bond. Jake has told me many times that I was the ‘Hermano” that he never had. He knew I felt the same way, as well. Afterwards, Jake became one of the tops of his class. Maybe it was because he had something he was fighting for. Months passed since I last seen Jake. I was out patrolling the beaches (While many joined the Coast Guard to legally be perverts, I never bothered to stoop that low), and everything seemed to be fine. A little while later, I noticed some shady characters talking to each other. Curious, I ran to the area, attempting to not be seen. Coming closer, I heard a particular conversation: “Ey, Hermano! You got the goods?” “Right here chico! Pure Columbian Coc-I mean, Coffee!” Drug traders try to be ambiguous, so they usually use code words to make deals in case anyone is listening. Naturally, said code words have been mostly deciphered. “Where’s the deal happening, man?” “Over by the Big Fish!” “Alright, see you there!” The Big Fish is what they call Dolphin Stadium, so I got my car and headed over there. A few minutes later, I saw where the deal was taking place, so I took cover. The deal was done by folks working for drug kingpin Jackie “The Goose” Cabron and was done in a shadowy place. I took notice of those making the deal and was surprised to see a familiar face. “Jake...?” I whispered, so I wouldn’t draw attention. What the hell is he doing here? I knew The Goose had a far reach in Miami, but he got to Jake, as well? Before the deal was made, I quickly get out of my hiding spot and yell, “Cost Guard, hands in the air!” The person who was with Jake grew mad. “poo poo, man! I thought this would be fuzz free!” He ran off, leaving Jake and me with the cocaine. “Lieutenant Davis? What the hell are you doing here?” “I was about to ask you the same thing, ‘Hermano’! Why the hell is a Coast Guard working with The Goose?!” I point my gun towards him while speaking, he does the same with his. “Don’t you dare give me that Coast Guard bull! I never cared about the Guard! I mainly cared about you! Where the hell were you after I left?!” “I thought the Guard would take care of you afterwards!” “Well, they sure did a poo poo job! Tell me, do you believe in the Guard, or in me?” I hesitated; my mind was going into a million places at once. For once in my life, I couldn’t really give an answer to Jake. “WHY THE gently caress ARE YOU HESITATING?!” Jake yelled, looking about ready to fire. In an act of complete desperation, I fired at Jake. He fell to the ground. I fell on my knees, horrified by what I have done. “GOD drat IT! YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH!” I yelled. “THIS IS THE KIND OF poo poo THAT COCAINE DOES TO PEOPLE! PUT BROTHER AGAINST BROTHER!” “Well, what are you waiting for?” Jake said softly, “Finish the job, or The Goose will finish it for you.” I step closer to Jake, grab his hand, and with my other hand, I pull the trigger. “I’m sorry.” Afterwards, I went over to the nearest bar, so I could try to forget all this happened. They say in training that it gets easier to kill people. I had to learn the hard way that it isn’t always the case.
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Dec 13, 2021 08:09
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(The blank hell card would have given me +1000 words if I had gotten someone to trade it off me, otherwise it does nothing.) +200 words for trading cards. The Marriage of Sea and Stone 1198 words On a grey morning in the dawn-time of the world, Prince Partholon rode out from the halls of Hadea, to offer himself as a hostage and bring an end to the First War. He rode across the glassy plain, past the dry corpses of rivers and the choked gullets of extinct volcanoes. He rode through the statue-fields, where countless magma warriors had been cooled unto death; where igneous fists and zircon blades were raised in testament to a thousand years of bloodshed. Of the other side’s dead, no trace remained. They had evaporated into steam, and returned to the earth as rain. On the far side of the statue-field, another rider blocked his path. She was clad in diamond armour, and mounted on a granite wolfsteed that slavered molten rock. She was his sister: Battle-Princess Theia, the Scourge of Waters. “Partholon!” she called. “Mother told me what you mean to do. How can you betray Hadea like this? Do you not see the bodies of our legions upon this plain? For a thousand years we have fought the invaders. All those deaths will be in vain if we surrender now.” “Sister,” Partholon replied. “Do you not see the bodies? Would you add another thousand years of corpses to the pile? Stand aside.” Theia spat sulphur upon the ground. “You will lead Hadea to destruction. Death is surrender, surrender is death.” She spurred her wolfsteed and rode away. So Partholon came to the ocean’s edge, where the smooth pebbles of the shore had been fused together by the heat-lances of his sister’s Ash Commandos. Far off on the horizon was the glittering castle of the water-people, with its flying balustrades of ice, its endless cascades, its silver flags. A phalanx of waves emerged from the castle and rolled towards him. One darted out, ahead of the others; it burst onto the shingle in the form of a woman. She was more beautiful than the rain, more graceful than the tides. She surged up the beach and flung her arms around Partholon, pressing her cold lips to his. Had she touched his bare flesh she would have been vaporised on contact; but Partholon had sheathed himself in a suit of calcified stone, and he was merely warm to the touch. “You are here,” the Princess Undine whispered. “Oh my love, you are finally here. The Deep Council has agreed to all your terms. We will be married, Partholon—and the war will end!” Partholon clutched her to his rocky breast. “From our love, a new world,” he murmured. She repeated it softly back to him. These words they had spoken many times as they courted each other, meeting secretly in hidden caves along the shore. The other waves reached the shore. The Deep Councillors and their retinues emerged. There were the Pelagic Voivodes with their Submarine Guard; the Marinarchs of the Benthic Deep; and the deadly Rain Divers, whose droplet-spears had pierced so many burning hearts. Partholon knelt before the crowd and submitted himself as a peace offering: hostage and bridegroom to their most favoured daughter. Soon there would be a wedding where stone met sea. *** They prepared the ceremony in a deep basin, between the mountains and the sea. The armies of water made camp on one side, and the armies of stone on the other. As magmatic legions flowed beneath the surface, the earth trembled and grew warm; but above ground they kept to the compact, and emerged only in the calcite suits that held their temperature in check. All the great powers of Hadea were represented there: the Lords Volcanic and Seismic, the scholars of the Deep Mantle, and even the warchiefs of the Pyroclastic Men. Only Theia and her Ash Commandos were missing. It was said they had ridden out the west gate of Hadea that morning, vowing never to return. At the head of the Hadean forces was a throne of molten gold, on which sat the craggy body of the Dowager Empress. As her son approached across the plain, her eyes opened a crack to reveal the distant light of dwindling fire. “Mother,” said Partholon, dismounting to kneel before her. “I am so glad you came.” “Anything… for my beloved… son…” the Empress rumbled. “I was afraid you might have sided with Theia in this matter.” “Between my children… I take no sides.” Partholon greeted the other leaders of the First Empire. For the most part they had come willingly to the field of peace, for the toll upon their peoples had been great. Still they feared treachery, and cast suspicious glances toward the water folk. Partholon reassured them; slowly the two sides drew together until they were face to face. Undine appeared, her face hidden behind a waterfall veil. When she was close enough, Partholon leaned in and drew the veil back. “From our love—” Partholon whispered. “—a new world,” Undine finished. A thundering horn sounded from the mountains. Atop the jagged peaks appeared Theia on her wolfsteed, flanked by three dozen Ash Commandos. “Death is surrender!” Theia called. “Surrender is death!” the Commandos replied. And they charged down the slope like an avalanche. “Mother!” Partholon cried. “Our legions must stop her! Give the command!” The Empress opened her mouth and croaked: “I take… no sides…” As she closed to throwing distance, Theia lifted her heat-lance above her head. Partholon shouted “Undine!” and threw himself in front of his bride. But Theia was not aiming for the princess, but the prince. Her heat-lance flew and pierced him through his flank. Magma spilled at once through the shattered calcite. He turned to cover Undine, but it was too late. She was already boiling away. “Treachery!” cried the Pelagic Voivodes. The armies of water surged forward to defend the princess. In response, the subterranean legions burst from the earth to meet them. The Pyroclastic Men roared fire into the sky; the Rain Divers drew their knives and fell howling from the clouds. Volcano-mouths tore open and sprayed lava from the deep. Then, from the shore, the ocean rose up and poured down into the basin. Partholon fell to his knees, bleeding and crumbling. Undine hung in the air, half-evaporated. She clung to her mortal form with all her strength. The earth roiled around them and great waves crashed on all sides. They struggled toward each other through the chaos of the First War’s final battle. The lovers’ arms found one another. Partholon touched his bride skin-to-skin for the first time. As she burned away in his embrace—as the primordial sea roared down to swamp the armies in mutual annihilation—a blazing reaction took place at the border when stone and water joined. Long after the battle was done, and the last survivors had limped away to die, Partholon’s body remained at the bottom of the new sea. Bubbles had formed inside him as he perished. Within these pores some essence of Undine still remained: traces of acids and sugars, sheltered and kept safe inside his bones. In the warmth of his fading heart, they began to combine; to metabolise; to multiply—
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Dec 13, 2021 08:22
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