Write-in Competition

[Merelas]

Good evening everyone!

 

I'm proud to sponsor our Carnival's Write-in Competition! I'm sure most of you have participated in contests or exercises such as this before. Below, I have a list of 30 words which (if you participate) you will be required to work into a creative work of any medium. For participating, *every* person will recieve 5 geld. The person with the best entry (as judged by myself) will receive an additional 20 geld. Second place, 15 geld, and third, 10 geld.

 

The list of words are as follows:

 

Flames

Spade (as in, shovel)

Green

Monday

Reach

Early

Often

Potato

Each

Somber

Quizzical

Defendant

Portly

Dread

Smite

Angry

Nightingale

Priest

Garbage

Rubbish

Trash

Exact

Blinding

Quill

Rest

Calendar

Mighty

 

Good Luck to everyone!

[Tanuchan]

A nightingale sings early in the morning
A green Monday of a somber Summer
Never minding dates and events
Of a calendar created by blind eyes.
A priest comes from his nightly rest
Looks up in quizzical surprise:
Nightingales in that dread city
Are not a sight one often remembers.
Angry sounds, blinding flashes
Reach the priest, smite his senses...
Dazzled he looks at a portly stranger
Shadowed eyes in a darkened face
Midnight-blue is the color of his robes.
"Where am I, wither have I been brought?"

The priest stares, mutters apologies
"Who are you, if I might ask?"

"A defendant unjustly accused
Of lending his quill for accursed magic
Rubbish I thought I was writing
And not the words for mighty summoning.
For flames came when She read the scroll
And terrible evil became unleashed."

"Who are you, who is she,
And what evil is this that you talk about?"
The priest trembles, his knees shake
He turns around looking for help.

He who has been apprentice-mage
Lets his mind remember the sentence
"She I name not, you won't recognize her.
I am from afar, sent through time
To learn and teach and expiate my crime.
Instead of a spade for a physical burial
They buried me with the power of magic.
That's the punishment that they exact on me."

"And the evil that was freed
What happened to it?"

"A dark force spreads in the country,
And hordes trash all that oppose it
But the White Mages know what to do
And bind it they will.
Don't worry, worthy friend,
Go back to your garden.
You see, there's that potato there
Waiting, wishing to be picked;
And maybe more, if you just look.
Care for what is yours,
Don't throw into the garbage
The knowledge you already have.
Don't try to understand higher things
Don't do what I did in my pride.
Be yourself, and be content,
Each of us has a life of its own.
Live happy, and live your own time,
Because I am condemned
To live out of mine."

****** Merelas, I believe you gave just 27 words? And thanks for the opportunity, this was a nice challenge ~Tanny

Edited June 19, 2014 by Tanuchan
fixing formatting

[Lady Celes Crusader]

(If there's any word used wrongly, I apologizes in advance.)

*********************************************************************

 

On a dark Monday night, two graverobbers where standing in front of Florence Nightingale's tomb. One of the men gave a quizzical glance at his partner, James, a former priest who checks on the lanterns' blinding flames before grabbing his spade.

 

- Are you really sure about it?, asks the rubbish Earl, What kind of garbage are you seeking out of this grave?

 

A somber James puts a cigarette up in his mouth and looks for any matches within his reach. Earl lends him his green lighter. After the most experienced man lights his cigarettes and gave to his portly companion his lighter back, he finally answers.

 

- That is because I want the Quill she's buried with. She was the defendant of the sick and I am sure that I can fetch enough money out of it.

 

- Are you serious?, protest an angry Earl, You want me to help you disturbing a well-loved lady's rest over a decomposed cloth trash? What kind of rubbish idea is that?

 

James gives a mighty blow of pickaxe in the ground between Earl's feet. He was obviously annoyed by the couch potato's protests.

 

- If you want to be done with this dread job early, I strongly suggest to stop protesting and start to smite your way to this tomb as quickly as possible.

 

- Sure, although remind me to mark this exact day on the calendar so that I'll remember that bizarre task.

 

The former religious man snorts his despice and mocks his partner.

 

- What kind of graverobber you make! Are you often repulsed by this kind of job?

 

Earl grunts and digs furiously while James chuckles before joining his unlikely partner in this task. The night ahead will be a long one.

[Salinye]

*laughs* Okay, Merry. This is bit of writing is a LOT different than my usual. But none the less, here is what my warped muse has come up with. Thank you for the challenge!

 

************

 

Sean ran through the woods, his pulse racing, flames of passion filling his bosom. Tonight was the night! The very thought of her sent a rush of wild abandon soaring through his body. Meet me at midnight upon the rising of the first full moon,” she had whispered to him at a dinner party at the Nightingale’s estate last month. John Nightingale was the most brilliant lawyer in the small town of Saunders. The party he threw was in celebration of his winning a rather large and controversial case. His client, Robert Olson, was there, looking more relieved than he had in months. Although the trial ended with a “hung jury”, that was better in than it ending with a “Hung defendant.” Besides, each town member knew that the accusations against Robert were little more than rubbish. The man, although mighty in stature, was equally soft in heart. The thought of him being the assailant responsible for a recent string of murders first concocted feelings of angry contempt. After all, people did want to be able to punish someone for the unthinkable crimes. Over time, however, the townspeople threw their insecurities into the garbage and gave Robert the honest trial he deserved.

 

Sean had done his research well. He knew that today, Monday July 1st would be the night of the first full moon of the month. He dipped his quill in red ink and marked it on his calendar, hardly able to eat, drink or rest over the next 3 weeks without his thoughts drifting to her.

 

One early morning later that week, he was working his father’s potato fields. In the summer months, he would often start his work before sunrise in order to avoid the unbearable heat that was sure to come. A figure approaching from the distance caught his attention. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he shoved his spade into the soft earth. Bending over, with a reach into his satchel, he returned with a handkerchief to wipe some of the soil from his hands.

 

As his visitor came into view, he recognized him as the local priest Gillman. Gillman was a somber fellow of portly stature. He preferred sermons based around hellfire and brimstone lectures. Sean assumed he probably meant well, however, he didn’t believe in scaring people into religion. Giving the priest a quizzical look, he extended a semi-clean hand. “Reverend, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

 

The next hour was filled with lecture. Gillman had seen the way Sean looked at Laura Harrison, recent widow. He warned the young man to curb his appetite! She was nay a moral woman while she was married, do not become part of her new sins! He had warned, claiming the boy was being misled by blinding lust. Sean tried his best to seem like he was taking the reverend seriously, however, Gillman was not so easily fooled. The woman is trash, Sean. God forgive me for saying so. He ended his “mini sermon” with many warnings of the judgments God would justly exact upon him, bringing down the fires of Heaven to smite him, lest he change his ways.

 

Yet here he was, standing just behind the tree line, staring into the clearing. His eyes fell upon her, standing in the center of the grassy area, her lithe form hidden beneath the folds of her hooded green cloak. Before he revealed himself, she called to him. “Come, Sean. I have been waiting for you.” She turned slightly to face his direction, her cloak parting momentarily revealing the creamy color of her bare thigh. His heart nearly jumped into his throat as a bout of second thought pulsed through him. However, he had crossed way beyond the point of no return and slowly stepped out from the tree line.

 

She laughed as she saw him, the sound of which was like music to him, enticing him closer to her. He reached up to pull the hood of her cloak back so he could look upon her beautiful face. She closed her eyes as he did so. It was just as he was remembering to memorize every detail of her and this night for his best friend that the clouds passed from in front of the moon bathing them in moonlight.

 

Laura opened her eyes causing him to take a step back, for instead of the deep blue pools that he had come to adore, they appeared yellowish and canine. His heart only had a moment to fill with dread before it was all over. The last fleeting thought before his life was ripped from him was, “Perhaps Priest Gillman was right.”

Edited July 4, 2004 by Salinye

[Xaious, Master of Time]

Flames shot high into the sky as the ancient mountain was attacked with a spade. Long ago, the mountain's green grass had faded, now a faded, rotting brown color. Many people laughingly called this place Monday 's Avatar, as the day and the location were both great nuisances. But the horror of this place reached much further than that one annoying day.

It was early in the morning, and as he often did, Joseph was diggin up potatoes, each to be used in a different part of the day's meal.

The day started out very somber and dreary, but the quizzical part of Joseph's mind wondered why none had ever thought to garden the fertile ground of Monday's Avatar. He soon found out, as he lay on the ground, writhing in pain, his leg severely burned.

In the nearby town's court, the local judge had been questioning the defendant, intent on finding the truth, when a portly man ran in, a horrid look of dread on his face.

The judge calmed the man down, who then told the story of how the mountain , after being attacked, now seeked to smite the race responsible for making it angry. Afterwards, this news spread as though sung by a nightingale, eventually reaching the town priest. Originally believing the news to be garbage, rubbish, the worst kind of trash he had ever heard, he soon found out exactly how true it was.

With blinding pain and fury, the ancient fire deity -MunnDae- sent his avatar to destroy the puny beings. They had disturbed his slumber, and he was more than greatly annoyed. His home had lain undisturbed for many years, and he had even been working on a Quill Quest, and was enjoying the rest. Heck, his calendar still gave him a few thousand more years before his scheduled millenial rampage . The mighty god was greatly annoyed that he was awakened by a mere shovel. A mere shovel.

The humans would pay. Dearly.

[Wyvern]

Wyvern quickly slips by Merelas' booth, licking the last of the pie cream off of his face as he places a ragged piece of paper in the half-fire elfs "In" booth. Raising a brow at sight of a new contest entry, Merelas creases his brows as he looks over the paper and reads it:

 

---

 

"I see..." mutters the portly stranger, turning to the venerable priest that had been speaking to him in philosophical tongues earlier and frowning.

 

"You do?" chimes the priest in a shocked manner, his eyes widening as a smile overcomes his face. "Why, that's wonderful news! Truth be told, I usually lose people around when I say 'a dark force spreads in the country!'"

 

The stranger frowns and moves his foot around in the dirt a bit, silently brushing off his robes as the nightingale that had been tweeting in the background abruptly comes to a standstill, falling unconscious from its branch due to excessive air pollution.

 

"Dark force...? *sigh* You know, I still don't see how this is going to correct my being wrongfully accussed."

 

The priest immediatly scowls and steps forward upon hearing this, waving his fist in the air as he exclaims:

 

"You fool, is your heart not full of dread?! A dark force arrises in the country... it goes by the name of MunnDae, and is King of all that is flame! Joseph the potato farmer learned, oh he learned alright. It is only a matter of time before you learn as well! I warn you."

 

The portly stranger rolls his eyes and lets out a dismal sigh, waving a hand at the priest and shaking his head as he begins to head off from the area of the dread city. When the priest takes out a holy megaphone to call out after him, the stranger yells back:

 

"Yeesh, shut up you old geezer! Just because I accidentally wrote some magic doesn't mean that I believe in fire demon fairytales. MunnDae, pshaw! What a buncha rubbish... amazing the people they hire as priests nowadays. I knew I should have turned to John Nightingale instead of some confessional booth for my legal worries. Hopefully, he'll still accept me at his estate..."

 

Elsewhere, at a calm tree clearing near John Nightingale's estate...

 

The early Monday blossums of the clearing sway gently in the evening breeze as Laura "Nighthowl" Harrison finishes her midnight snack: "Filet of Sean". Glaring down at the dead body while removing a remaining piece of intestine from her front fangs with a bloody claw, Laura growls in an angry manner:

 

"Ugh, this kid tasted like garbage. Yuck, I mean like what did this freak eat for breakfast... green eggs and ham? Maybe a little bit of last night's leftover trash on the side? Blech! Shoot, it's victims like these that make me wish I ignored the lunar calender altogether and stuck to being a vegetarian."

 

Laura suddenly stops mumbling to herself as she hears a snap of a twig from around the corner, and turns ferally as she senses another person approaching. Baring claw, tooth, and fur, she turns to her next potential victim, only to be met by a familiar visage.

 

"Y-you?!"

 

Laura pauses in shock as she notices the portly stranger behind the tree, dropping her ferocious guard and baring a striking ressemblence to a cute little puppy in the process.

 

"Laura..." sighs the portly stranger, turning his sad eyes towards her and shedding a single tear. "You look strikingly attractive, as always. Your beauty is simply blinding."

 

"Well..." mutters Laura softly, blushing from behind her fur and sticking her left pinky claw into her mouth out of embarassment. "You always did have kind of a fetish for wolves."

 

"Laura..." tones the stranger once again, approaching her and placing his hands on her furry shoulders affectionatly. "I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am for what I did. I had no idea that I had written magic, and had even less of an idea that you'd read the scroll. Now, look what's become of you... I've unleashed a dark force upon the land."

 

"Uhhh..." mutters Laura. "Well, actually..."

 

"Ah yes!" exclaims the portly stranger, holding Laura tighter. "That was the exact way the incantation started, with an 'uhhh...' My meeting you here is by pure chance, Laura, for I came from dread city in search of the estate of John Nightingale, in the hopes of correcting my current legal status. People fear me, Laura, for they believe that I intentionally enchanted you with lycanthropy. But fear not, for I will have my name unsullied shortly."

 

"Ummm..." starts Laura. "Well, there's something you should know..."

 

"Do you frequent this area often, my darling?" interrupts the portly stranger again, brushing a loving hand through Laura's fur. "Why, it's so pleasant that I wonder how you ever find time to reach a state of rest! Oh fear not my darling, for with John Nightingale as my defendent, I shall overcome all odds and triumph."

 

"Err, well..." growls Laura, ignoring the portly strangers somber expression and firmly continuing. "There's something you should know. The scroll I read actually had absolutely nothing to do with my lycanothropy. That actually came about from a one night stand... it was this guy that had this thing for biting shoulders in bed and, well, you don't need to hear the whole story."

 

The portly stranger nods happily to this for a moment, then suddenly realizes what Laura said and drops his jaw in a dumbfounded state.

 

"W-w-w-WHAT?! You mean to say that that scroll, a-and my accident... t-that your lycanothropy... a ONE NIGHT STAND?!! I trusted you, you bitch!"

 

Laura sticks her snout up and "hmphs!," brushing her fur and muttering "I'll take the 'bitch' remark as a compliment."

 

"B-b-but, if that had nothing to do with your lycanothropy, then what did the scroll do?"

 

"I dunno" grumbles Laura. "Some sort of fire demon trick, I think."

 

The portly stranger goes pale as he hears this, suddenly remembering the words that the venerable priest had spoken earlier. which he had dismissed as gibberish. The stranger smells the scent of sulfur and ash too late, however, as a flaming comet sent by MuunDae suddenly hurls in the direction of John Nightingale's abode. Laura and the stranger both stand stunned as the enormous ball of fire smites the entire Nightingale estate, covering them in an enormous inferno...

 

The next night, at a cemetary near the area of the explosion...

 

"I tell ya James..." whispers Earl as the two graverobbers make their way to the graves of the newest deseased. "These bodies'll pro'lly be filthy rich, I heard this stranger guy was portly!"

 

James nods to this glumly, looking at his spade in a quizzical manner before turning to his associate.

 

"So... should I start digging here?"

 

"Yeah, and hurry it up already!" growls Earl. "Jeeze, I wonder how you ever became my partner sometimes. No common sense whatsoever."

 

The two associates remain silent as James digs up the two graves, and Earl grins as he pries open the coffin labeled "Laura." Both graverobbers are disappointed, however, when they find very little on her smoldering corpse of ashes.

 

"Well..." mutters James optimistically, smiling to Earl as he lifts a nightingale quill from the remains of Laura's digestive track. "At least we got this quill..."

 

"Shaddap!" shouts Earl in a rage, dashing to the second coffin labeled "the portly stranger" and immediatly prying it open. Both James and Earl stare at the contents of the coffin in shock and awe.

 

"Gee, that's mighty strange Earl." mutters James, casting a nervous glance towards his companion. "Isn't there supposed to be a corpse in there or something?"

 

"Yes..." mutters Earl softly, wiping the sweat off of his pale brow and staring at the empty interior of the coffin. "Yes, there is."

 

Epilogue...

 

They say that, if you stare towards the sunset where the flaming mountain of MuunDae rests, you'll find a stranger standing atop a place that had previously been stricken by ancient scrolls and spades of people named Joseph. A place that no mortal man can rest... no mortal man that lacks resistance to fire, that is. If you squint, you may even be able to make out some of his features, and might remark what a portly appearence he has...

 

Such is the legend of the portly stranger... the portly stranger named Merelas!

 

Authors note: all references to wolf fetishes in this story are purely fictional. ;p

[Katzaniel]

OOC: I've avoided reading everyone else's, but after I post I will come back and read... this should be interesting!

 

Early one morning, a portly priest leaned over his potato patch. Andrew would often spend the morning with his spade among the green things of the earth, listening to the the nightingale and bonding with God. However, his rest this day was interupted by angry words.

 

"Rubbish! Garbage! Trash!"

 

"That is my exact point about the current calendar."

 

The first man's voice turned a sombre tone. "Each day has its own purpose. If I were a mighty wizard I would smite you with blinding flames." Although the latter statement was said with an element of jest, he held out his quill as if to stab the second man.

 

Andrew was able to reach the men before the dread threat, or even some lesser action, was carried out. He gave the defendant a quizzical look.

 

"I simply said, if I were a mighty wizard, I'd do the world a favour and remove a day."

 

"You've been reading too much Garfield!"

 

"I'm sorry, but I just can't help the fact that I hate monday."

[Gyrfalcon]

Daryl groggily blinked his eyes open before snapping them shut, the flames before him blinding eyes that were used to darkness. With a groan, he slowly cracked his eyes open and almost wished he had not. Before him was a raging bonfire, and beyond that, dozens of peasants were gathered, feasting and drinking, tossing their rubbish to the ground as they finish whatever was at hand before reaching for another piece of food.

 

Daryl slowly shook his head and carefully considered his situation – bound to a thick pole by several loops of rope, with kindling and broken branches of green wood heaped high around his feet. This was not a good situation, that was for sure. He tried to remember what had landed him in this situation, but kept on coming up blank. Unless his short term memory was completely faulty, he had been having a drink at a tavern. The ale had tasted off, but given the fact it was a small town, it probably hadn’t been brewed very well. He supposed that it had been poisoned with a sleeping draught.

 

Daryl winces as another memory came to him... leaving the tavern and being hit across the back of the head repeatedly with a spade. Obviously, someone really wanted to make sure he stayed down. Across the way, the revelers had finally noticed his movements, and the mood grew somber as the party stopped and a portly man slowly came forward, a baked potato held forgotten in one hand. By his dress, Daryl figured him to be the local priest, especially with the large symbol prominent on his chest, above the mighty swell of his belly. He came to a halt in front of Daryl but stayed well back, highlighted on one side by the fire and the other sunk in shadow. “The demon is at last awake!” he intoned sonorously.

 

“Oh bloody hell.” Daryl muttered to himself, finally comprehending what was occurring.

 

“Gaze upon him, ye all! His vileness is revealed in his eyes, the color of the demon’s eyes!” the priest continued, building into a rolling sermon against Daryl. Daryl’s chuckling interrupted the priest, who came to a halt as Daryl groaned in pain again.

 

“Did whoever hit me have to hit me so many times?” Daryl asked the crowd, who drew back a pace. One man, who previously had been rather proudly holding a battered and slightly blood-stained spade, drew back even further.

 

“Silence, foul demon! You are in league with the creatures of the night, but now you shall be sent to the dread hells for your crimes, and God shall smite you for your sins!”

 

Daryl rolled his eyes, then stared at the priest, his eyes quizzical. “Isn’t a defendant allowed his say?” he asked mildly.

 

“Nay, demon, for you are damned by your eyes, each bearing the malice of the forest wolves that slaughter our herds and take our children!” the priest ranted, his face growing even redder in the fire light as blood rushed to it.

 

“Do you normally spout such garbage?” Daryl growled, his patience ended and his golden eyes reflecting the firelight at the crowd, who stood in a breathless hush0. The priest’s jaw worked soundlessly as he stumbled over the angry insults he wanted to hurl. “Burn him!” someone shouted, and then another, then another. “Burn him, Burn him, Burn him, Burn him!” they chanted.

 

The priest grinned maliciously as he took a burning brand from the fire. “Any last words, demon?” he asked, waving the brand close to the kindling at Daryl’s feet.

 

“Hm... Yup. I’ve got a few. How about ‘Save early, save often’?” Daryl said, smirking.

 

The priest paused, and the crowd’s chant came to a murmured halt in their confusion. “What?” the priest asked.

 

Daryl tipped his head back and considered the low branches overhead. “Hm... I don’t know if I remember the exact quote, but... ‘Reach for the stars and you might catch a handy tree branch.’”

 

As he spoke, he changed forms, going from human to a hybrid mix of human and fox. The crowd erupted in panic, and the priest stumbled away, finally dropping that baked potato to join the rest of the trash on the ground. Daryl used his enhanced strength to snap his bonds, the rope flying apart as he stretched his arms. He crouched and lunged upwards as the priest recovered his wits and rushed forward, setting the oil-soaked wood aflame... but too late, for Daryl was in the branches of the tree above, and then he was simply gone.

 

The party broke apart rather quickly, the peasants walking back to town in small groups, looking about fearfully for the red demon that had broken free, but none of them saw anything.

 

Not even the two who walked with Paitr, found unconscious. Not even Paitr, found unconscious with several large lumps on his head, the spade he had so proudly used to knock the demon unconscious sporting several new dents.

 

A nightingale sang as if his heart was breaking as the sun slowly rose, and Daryl leaned back against a tree trunk and fished his calendar out of his pack, which he had recovered easily from the inn as the owner slept fearfully. His pouch had been taken, of course, but he had remedied that, the priest’s absentmindedness having provided twice over what the werefox thief had originally carried on his journey.

 

Daryl fished out his ink and quill and flipped to the appropriate page. Last night had been Sunday... he scratched that out and looked at his plans. Nothing major, though he was due to meet Gyrfalcon in a week or so. He knew he could make up the lost time easily enough, though. Sunday he had meant to be a day of rest... he guessed Monday would have to do.

 

With a contented sigh, replaced the items in his bag and rested his head back on his rolled up cloak before closing his eyes to doze away the day in the warm sunshine.

[Merelas]

The Contest is now CLOSED! Thank you to all who have submitted entries, and I will have the placings shortly.

 

Good luck!

[Merelas]

I have here the results! Everyone recieves 5 geld for entering, and it should be entered onto your acounts shortly!

 

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for!

 

It was a very difficult decision, and you can be assured that if you did not place you were very close. I had an amazingly difficult time narrowing it down to three, and an even more difficult time placing those three. So, without further ado, I give you your results.

 

In third place, recieving 10 geld is Gyrfalcon! I liked the way your story flowed, and the end was great. Well done!

 

In second place and recieving 15 geld is Salinye! You did a great job and stepped outside the box with your essay which was awesome to see!

 

And finally, in first place with the essay that I personally thought the most hillarious (and rediculous... Merelas isn't portly!) is Wyvern! We all decided you needed a lot of geld for your addictions, and so you will recieve 20.

 

Congratulations to everyone! May you use your geld wisely in buying bachelors for your own purposes