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unwantedplatypus
Sep 6, 2012


I need to write more, count me in for this

:toxx: me

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unwantedplatypus
Sep 6, 2012


Dragon-Slayer
1,249 words

“Is this the entrance? Hardly looks large enough to fit a horse.” “My lord, looks can be deceiving.” The old man wobbled atop his horse near constantly, though he never fell. “We shall stick to the plan, regardless, draw the beast out and have the men vanquish it in the open field.” This was easier said than done, of course. For the dragon lived atop a vast spire, accessible only via an extensive cave network. This would either be Amir’s most prestigious day, or his last; although he preferred not to think of the latter possibility. And so, Amir set off into the dank and dingy crevice with the brightest scholar in the Sultanate, and a dozen men of the Order of Assassins. The rest of his two thousand strong army waited outside, almost as nervous as the spelunkers themselves.

Most dragon layers were infested with all manner bandits or drakes. They formed a symbiotic relationship, the minions would protect the dragon from wayward adventurers, and in return would be able to acquire a scrap of the wealth it collected. Any man caught in such a layer would be put to death immediately of course, as those who would treat evil are inevitably complicit in it.
After the initial half-hour of travel through winding corridors and claustrophobic tunnels that were otherwise uneventful, the party came upon a structure. A grand marble staircase, as pristine as the skin of a newborn. By any reasonable guess it led straight up into the peak of the mountain. The old man seemed concerned, “Dragons are some of the most intelligent creatures the gods ever created. I fear we are merely stumbling into a trap.”
Despite his concerns, there was only one direction for the party to go; a veteran assassin volunteered to lead the way. It soon became apparent that the staircase was not designed for men. The steps were too high and far apart, more appropriate for an ogre, though ogre architecture is known to be very rudimentary. No, this structure was different.

It was several hundred feet from the top of the spire to the bottom of the stairs, and the men’s weapons and armor slowed them greatly. Eventually however, the persistence of the human spirit won out over the oppressive boot of gravity as the spiral ended in a two great wooden double doors. Each door stood ten men long and half as many high. Strange cuneiform markings were engraved upon them, as though with a chisel. The markings surrounded a great, unmistakably draconic claw print. One of the assassins turned to the scholar, “The dragons built this, do you suppose?” Another of the assassins interjected, “ Dragons can fly, idiot, they don’t need to build stairs.” The scholar finally replied, “Your rude friend is right, perhaps this was built by slaves, as a means to offer sacrifice and communicate with the beasts atop the spire. But the dragon cults were extinguished half a millennia ago, this structure was recently built.”
“Al-Zanuur, you have been of great assistance, you have my leave to seek shelter down in the cave until the drake is slain.” The scholar nodded and began descending the structure. “As for the rest of you, be prepared. If what the esteemed scholar said was true we may encounter an unexpected foe.”

With great effort, the men pushed one of the doors open. Amir and the assassins crept through. The group entered into a large chamber with a roof supported by four columns, but open to the air on its four sides. On the roof was painted a winged serpent which coiled out from the center-point. The double doors were sunken into the floor with a ramp leading up into the chamber. Just over the ramp lay the dragon, sleeping on top of a large pile of the sultanate’s greatest treasures.
The group began creeping towards it, understanding their mission, but were soon startled by… a voice? Voice without weight, speech without sound, yet it was without mistake that of the dragon. “You wish to kill me earth-beasts, why?” The dragon still seemed asleep, motionless, not even a twitch rang out through its black-clad body. Amir looked around, to see if anyone else heard this voice. The men were looking amongst each other, and towards Amir, likely wondering the same. Fear gripped his body, but his throat remained free of its clasp, “You have attacked our armies, looted our treasures, and terrorized our lands. Your primordial kind do not take readily to civilization or diplomacy, so for the safety of our people you shall be put down.”

With a swipe of its claw the dragon swatted away an assassin who had been slowly advancing towards it. The poor soul was hurled out of the chamber, and down the mountain, by the blow. The dragon quickly went back to resting, its eyes never having opened. “I understand your civilization, filth, and I reject it. Your sultan takes your wealth as payment for living and working on ‘his’ land. He takes legitimacy from the longevity and continuity of his bloodline; and enforces his rule through brute force. Yet when I do the same, it is villainy.”

Amir nearly exploded with anger, “The Sultan is a noble ruler who treats his people with honor. It is by the will of Adzam that he and his lineage rules. Your kind are mere servants of Ilbis, and you will never again rule over men.” “Ah yes, Adzam and Ilbis, Order and Chaos, I knew them both. I forgot, however, just how ignorant you and your kind are.”

Some have said that Amir’s temper was rather short, but he was certain that few men could keep calm after having his kingdom, religion, and race insulted so pompously by such a creature “Enough of this, men slay the blasphemous beast!”
The assassins charged, and in response the dragon awakened fully and gave a mighty roar. Steam began billowing out from the creature’s nostrils and mouth. A hail of crossbow bolts covered the advance of a half- dozen men. The bolts were slick with deadly poison, but all failed to penetrate the tough skin. The dragon proved to be a skilled combatant. One swipe of its hand disemboweled two men. A tail swipe crushed the spine of a third. Another was knocked off the mountain by a head butt. The final one managed to plunge a sword into the dragon’s neck, but failed to sever any blood vessels. The dragon responded quickly, swiping him away and crushing the man between its jaws.

“Retreat!” Amir ordered

Amir happened to be closest to the dragon, while the surviving assassins managed to escape down the stairs, the dragon pinned him to the floor before he could even turn to run. “You idiot, you fool. I did not acquire what I waited here for, and so you shall not obtain what you came for.” Amir didn’t understand what the dragon meant, but he was certain it involved his imminent death. Instead the dragon used its tail to push the entire treasure pile out of the chamber, down the mountain. Then it pushed amir down the ramp, hitting the double doors with an unpleasant thud. He lay there stunned for a few seconds before getting back on his feet and seeing the dragon in the sky, flying towards the horizon. He would return with neither the dragon’s hide, nor the sultan’s treasure.
He almost would have preferred to be killed

unwantedplatypus
Sep 6, 2012


Fleta Mcgurn posted:

:toxx: IN a world where eating meat is punishable by death.

In a world without language


(Also thanks for the crit Tyrannosaurus, and the motivation)

unwantedplatypus
Sep 6, 2012


Sorry my story is short, I didn't get as much writing done this week as I would have liked.

Prompt: In a world where eating meat is punishable by death

Sunday

Word Count: 999


He is the perfect

We are the flawed

A prison of flesh

Which must be thawed


A grand statue commanded the attention of the congregation. A monument to an emaciated man, cut from marble, on the moment of his death and his journey to freedom. The base of the statue was splotched with a ruddy color. He is perfect

A chant rang out amongst the crowd, reverberating throughout the packed hall,

“A serpent, a glutton,

A sinner, a snake!

Burn him, bash him,

His soul shall break!”

Chastity raised her head from the cold stone floor ever so slightly and peered around. She had taken her place prostrate next to the center aisle, giving her a good view of the events. People in her commune had been gossiping about tonight, saying a heretic would be presented for judgement at the temple. She saw them coming now, the procession was made up of five members of the Order of Flagellants. They wore plain clothes, the itchy and coarse material that was common to all in the congregation; but were easily identifiable by their incredibly pale complexion and assortment of scars and scabs both old and new. Four formed a box around the man to be judged, with the fifth leading the group and holding the man’s chains. The man himself was…disgusting. He had made a prison for his soul. Fat clung to his bones and filled out his shape. His every step sent jiggling waves across his skin. He must have been over 130 pounds.

His face was hidden behind a pig mask, bloody tears ran from its eye-holes. The tempo of the crowd was increasing, as was the vigor with which it threw both trash and insults. Chastity joined in with gusto.

Eventually the procession reached the front of the crowd, by the marble statue. It almost felt like a grave desecration, seeing such filth sharing proximity with the savior of man. Soon enough though, justice would be wrought. The man was tied to a post in front of the statue. Everyone knew what came next, and so the crowd died down from an uproar to near perfect silence in a matter of seconds. The flagellant who was leading originally then stepped forward to address the congregation.

“Brothers and sisters, the ministry of perfection wishes nothing but peace and happiness for all who join our flock. Yet you know as well as I, that there are wolves who would wish to gorge themselves on the fruits of our labor; that is the blood, sweat, and tears that we have sacrificed to build our new order.”

The hands of the crowd were calloused, and their bodies strained. They knew sacrifice.

“ Brothers and sisters, for every city on the hill, every glorious society, there is a barbarian horde at its gates. Ill with jealousy, hearts full of hatred, and famished by our own spiritual fulfillment.”

The bellies of the crowd were empty, and their souls nourished. They knew fulfillment.

“Brothers and sisters, the enemy without is never as dangerous as the enemy within. Those who take without giving; where the fire of passion is replaced by the fire of consumption. They are leeches, drinking their fill from the lifeblood of you and I; a burden on all of us.”

The backs of the crowd were broken, and their sins heavy. They knew burden.

“ We are all sinners, and the Ministry of Perfection accepts the repentant. But those who revel in sin, in chaotic and disruptive lifestyles, who reject the principles of perfection, are a threat to us all.”

Energy coursed through the body of Chastity and the bodies of the congregation; like a wave of electricity travelling along a circuit. An action potential waiting to be realized.

“ The man we have here today is accused of three felony accounts of gluttony. Three rats were found in his domicile; skinned, cooked and partially devoured. Let me reiterate, this man not only devoured flesh; but devoured the flesh of a rodent, one of the most unclean animals that prowl the Earth. Can anyone tell me why this man deserves the pleasures of the flesh, while his friends and brothers go without? Does he consider himself above the Perfect. Look at this statue, and look at him, is the contrast not stark? The perfect, the one above, looking down. The man, the pig, cowering below?

At last, brothers and sisters, I ask for your judgement. The traditional punishment for gluttony is death; the Flagellants have decided this man is unworthy of life; but what do the good people in the congregation say. Will they tolerate such corruption in our midst?”

The crowd erupted, a volcano spewing pent up tension.

“Never!”

“Death!”

“ Stone Him!”

Chastity joined in with vigor. Yelling until her throat was coarse. The decision was clear. Several ushers appeared from the entrance of the building and walked down the center aisle, handing out baskets of stones. The congregation knew it’s mission. The flagellants stood back from the man on the post. Stones flew, Chastity threw some herself. It felt good, she was doing her part to make the world a better place. The splotch of red color on the statue grew in size. With each crimson stain, the community became a better place.

After services had finished and Chastity had stepped outside, she took a moment to really look at herself. She sat on a patch of grass in front of the entrance. Her skin clung tightly to her bones, blue veins outlined against her forearms. Her hair short, fragile, and which shed so easily; as though the weight of impurity would slough off of her, little by little. She had a constant pain and emptiness in her stomach, which escaped her notice most of the time, a reminder of her devotion. Her hip bones, lacking cushion, poked at the ground beneath her. Her nails were as cracked as her hands. She was beautiful. She was nearing perfection.

unwantedplatypus
Sep 6, 2012


In as Isaac Newt

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