Carnival Event - Tell a Story!

Katzaniel · December 6, 2004

OOC: I'm putting this first for the Chronologically-Challenged, as I recognize the condition only so well recently. Basically I'm looking for a story as told by some character not yourself. Preferably not a "main" character either though I'll let each of you be the judge of that. Include gestures, voice inflections, accents, et cetera as needed, include the speech as they tell it and more often than not within quotes (as opposed to, "Then he told about such and such.") 5 geld for participating, 10 additional for the top one or two (if very close). Judging will be done on how well the story appears to reflect the character telling it, how well you make the character come across through his or her words, gestures, et cetera, and to some extent how interesting the story is. Focus on dialogue please - what I'd very much like to see is the creation of a whole new story-telling voice through this character, not someone who just sounds like you do. Try to use similes that would come naturally to them, et cetera et cetera. (That's all part of the judging list )

Now for a more interesting introduction which I will attempt to double as an example.

IC:

The old man hobbled onto the stage, using his cane like a mountain climber might use their tools. To him the tall steps must have loomed just as large, but he made it up and across the lonely trek, standing proud despite meagre height in front of the assembled crowd.

"When I was young," he croaked, letting the words settle before continuing, "there were respect for elders! I never thought I'd a' grow old and see that all lain to waste." Someone shuffled in the back and he whipped his cane up and pointed. "See! Silence they demanded in my day, an' I made pains to be silent or there'd be a whippin' later! Now 'ere I am and I ain't got my due." The man made a face, shaking his cane emphatically for a moment more before lowering it once more to the ground.

"I killed eight dragons before I were thirty, and do ya think I earned respect fer that? I was too young, I tell ya, fer any respect in those days. And now I'm jest too old. One o' dem dragons, 'e breathed fire right down me back an' that's where I got this here bum leg. Another, he were larger than the king's castle and blacker than the finest soot. I killed 'em though, I kept you all's safe and what thanks do I get!"

Someone coughed and the man's eyes were on the crowd in an instant. They narrowed. "No one 'ppreciates all I've done for you's!" He began forward, jumped more nimbly than anyone thought he could manage off the front of the stage, and began fighting through the crowd. Random threats echoed in his creaky voice as he tried to find the offender.

"Good, well, now he's done," said an announcer, taking the stage. "We've got many more stories to work through this evening. Number eight?"

Alaeha · December 7, 2004

A young man with thin blonde hair walked onstage, on hearing his cue. "Well... my tale is a bit confusing, I'm afraid, but I'll try to make things clear.

"A couple of years back, I was traveling across some country or another... I forget which, exactly. Anyway, that's not important. I was sitting in the common room at an inn when a man walked in with thick black hair past his shoulders. He carried a lute, and his eyes were the most fascinating shade of green I've ever seen. He sang a few songs -- The Yellow-Bellied Half-orc is the only one I remember offhand -- and then he told us a story. Two stories, actually." The young man paused for a moment, looking out at the audience. He smiled briefly at the silence, and continued.

"He said, 'Long ago, I met a lizardman. He claimed he was a dragon, but I've spoken to dragons, and none of them hissed so much as this one did. He had gleaming red scales, I'll give him that, but to this day I can't figure out why he wore such outrageously gaudy clothes.'

"The black-haired man said that the lizard was honest, otherwise. 'Oh, I made a few bargains with him, sure. I was a bit careful at first -- you have to be careful when dealing with a snake -- but he never once cheated me, or even tried. Why, I bought this lute from him, and it's served me well fifteen years now.'" From somewhere in the audience, a few snickers erupted, but the youth did his best to ignore them.

"And then the storyteller told us of a man he'd met. He pointed me out, saying that the man looked like me. 'A man looking much like this boy, though a bit older, spread word of me in another land once. He told people of my dealings with the Lizard. I know because I was told when I traveled there that I was completely insane. They had been told so, or so it seemed. It took me a week to find out the truth of what had happened.'" At this point, the audience broke out into such laughter that the youth's nerves broke, and he fled offstage turning beet-red.

"Well, sorry about that, kid." The announcer called, regaining the stage again. Turning to the audience, he said "Well, we know he wasn't talking about Wyvern... we'll just have to wonder who it was, then. Won't we? Next?"

Venefyxatu · December 7, 2004

A huge figure stomped onto the stage, carrying a treetrunk that we shall, for lack of a better word, call a club over its shoulder. When he reached the centre of the stage he turned his back to where the audience was supposed to be and stood there, quietly, looking at the wall. Nothing happened. The audience kept silent. Had Ug turned towards them, they would've seen a deep frown on his forehead. When nothing continued to happen for quite some time, the announcer whispered, “Hey! Pssst! You're supposed to turn the other way and tell a story!” Ug brightened, because he remembered why he was here now. He turned around and spoke in a loud, rumbling voice.

“Me Ug! Me tell storee! Ug stole statsjoo once. Statsjoo from der villetsj. Der doc-turr say Ug need steal statsjoo. Then he give Ug shinee stuff. UG LIKE SHINEE STUFF!

Ug like smashing things too. Me smash a tree when going to der villetsj! Der tree went ka-BOOOM! Ug strong! Tree gone! Den Ug smash cart too! Der cart was flat 'coz Ug so strong.”

He erupts in a roaring laughter that, despite the silence from the audience continues for several moments. Then he pauses, frowning, as if trying to remember what he was doing again.

“Were wazzI? Yer! Ug smash cart, den go to der villetsj! Me found der villetsj fast, 'coz mee's smart!”

The ogre starts speaking a little bit faster, emphasizing his words with swings of his club that would've wrecked a smaller stage. There is a sound of collective movement as everyone in the audience suddenly decides that the seats at the back of the room are the most comfortable ones.

“Ug had to smash der wud-cut-ter too! Den dey no longer haf wud in der villetsj so Ug can take der statsjoo! Clever plan from der doc-turr! But humans all look same to Ug, so Ug shout who is der wud-cut-ter? Dey was all hiding, but Ug saw dem in deir houses! And Ug shout again, who is der wud-cut-ter?”

The ogre is really shouting now and the audience is glad they're at the back of the room, safe from ear damage and spit flying from its mouth.

“Onnov 'em come to Ug and say lotsa hard wurds dat Ug not understand so Ug take his club and smash him, like dis!”

To show how he smashed the man, Ug takes his club and crashes it into the floor in front of him, destroying a few chairs in the process.

“Ha! Ug good at smash things! But Ug get sting in leg den, so Ug swattered stingee thing away. It did 'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA'!!!!”

A few worried Pennites come hurrying in, having heard the shout outside. Upon seeing the ogre on the stage, they quietly leave again.

“Den Ug take der statsjoo, 'coz der waz no wud-cut-ter. Ug walk through house wit der statsjoo, so der people culd no hide in it no more! Ha! Den Ug leave, wit der statsjoo. Dey haf no statsjoo now! HA HA HA HA!!!”

The ogre throws his head back and laughs for minutes. Just as the announcer wants to try and get him off the stage for the next participant, the ogre continues his story.

“Hey! Me's not done yet! 'Coz den Ug did somthing im-prezive! Ug stop and turn and yell :”

Here, he stops for a few moments, trying to remember what it was that he yelled.

“I haf yer statsjoo!! Mua.”

He pauses again for a moment.

“Ha.

Ha.”

Pause.

“Haha.

Ha.

Der doc-turr wuz happee! Ug got shinee stuff! Must go see if it's still dere, 'coz it not always stays were Ug put it!”

With these words, the ogre leaves the stage again, to go wherever it is that he stores his shiny things.

---

OOC : I edited (read : rewrote ) it, and found out that it's actually possible to write from the point of view of a really stupid character

Since I thought the idea was to use a character from somebody else, thanks to Black for borrowing me Ug, faithful minion of Dr. Avil! The picture that goes with it is the scheme that the Dr. made up before sending Ug on this thrilling mission

For slower connections : it's about 52k...

(should the posting of thumbnails be against a forum rule I missed let me know and I'll remove it immediately)

Edited December 11, 2004 by Venefyxatu

Peredhil · December 7, 2004

The stage stood empty for a long moment. A halfling lass stumbled toward the stairs, almost as if she'd been pushed, and halted for a long moment at the bottom.

Taking a deep breath, she resolutely climbed the stairs, stepping up with one foot, bringing the other up to match, and repeating until she was at the top. Moving to the center stage, she remained facing away from the audience.

Finally, with another shoulder-heaving sigh, she turned and gave a tremulous smile, which brightened as she realized she couldn't see anyone at all in the darkened room beyond the spotlight.

Shaking her curly blonde locks from her face, she raised a sturdy chin and blinked her grass-green eyes a moment, squinting a bit. Raising a plump pink hand to shade her eyes, she wetted her lips and asked plaintively, "C-could someone please dim that please?" The spotlight lowered just a bit and she nodded her thanks, roses blooming in her cheeks as she smiled. Clasping her hands tightly behind her back, to keep them from shaking, she began.

"Umm. Uh, this story t'ain't likely to be amusing to y'all, 'cause y'all so wonderful poetic and such. My, I could just sit and fill my ears with y'all's voices, I swear. I mean, some of y'all could just charm the honey from the bees when y'all talk so sweet. I'm not a story teller like that, oh no.

"Uh, my. Listen to me ramble about like a drunk goat. Anyway, one of my friends," She waved in the general direction of the shadowy audience and squinted a bit, then continued, "one of my friends, thought y'all might want to hear a story from me. I'm not sure why, with all that goes on here, but there it is and here I am."

"My, sure is hot up here, I never would've guessed." She fanned herself with one hand and gathered her thoughts. "Uh, anyway."

"In a time long before your grandfather lost his teeth, but more recent than when he first grew them, there was one of them Big People." She raised a measuring hand up above her head, and tried to lift it higher by tippy-toeing, but gave it up with a throwing away gesture. "Anyway, they was bigger than that and twice as heavy. This particular person was know as Wat, not Wat like'n Wat y'all doin', but Wat in short for Walter, but that were 'bout the only thing short about Wat.

"Wat came into village on a dark day like when the snow threatens low in the late Fall and thinks about Winter. Cold with no breeze a-blowin' and sullen and gray. And that fit Wat just fine, him being a morose one, a long, tall, bitter drink of water, he was.

"We in the village didn't really likes the look of him, his sharp eyes lookin' all 'round like they was sizing and measurin' things what not belonged to him, but we kept our teeth in our mouths and our words behind him and waited to see what his business was, 'cause we may be Little folk but we knows our manners just fine, thank you very much.

"Wat didn't waste a word with any hellos or how ye does or nothing like that, not that one. 'Stead he marches right ups to the burgermeister and looks down his nose at him with a haughty look likes he was a king 'stead of just being some ragged wanderer - or so's we thought at the time.

"Oh, my! I'm so bad at this! I should tell y'all that our village is way off by itself, there's no other place for miles and the only trail is the one the Peddler mades when he come on through with his mules. So now y'all know how usual-like it's to have a Man comin' through. We're a deadend off'n the middle of nowheres.

"Oh! And I should tell you this. Won't make no kinds of sense if it makes any at all, but then, it weren't my idea to come up and tell a story with your Lordships all listenin'. Uh, and your Ladyships too." She curtsies nervously, bobbing up and down, and adjusts her hair back from her face with a trembling hand. Clasping her hands behind her back once more, she drove on. "Anyways, we're so far off from any other place that only the Peddler comes through; other than maybe a few 'venturers looking for trouble and usually thievin' without a thought for the working hobbit or a thank 'ee please. But never a raggedly begger like Wat, no, he was more'n unusual, beggin' your pardon, his ragged clothes and poor shoes, and acting uppity like some great lord comin' to his poor serfs for squeezin' more money away from their babies. Oh. I'm sorry, I do get carried away from the point, like a baby bunny left under the hawk's glare.

"Anyway, Wat is standing there talking to the Burgermeister and we're lookin' him over with the edgy eye wondering what he'll do next and pushing the children BACK into the homes, not that the little ones wouldn't immediately try and take a peep out the window, bless their little hearts, so innocent and curious.

"Wat leans down resting his pale hands on his knees and says loudly like the Burgermeister was deaf or something, 'I have a map.'"

"Then he straightened up and crosses his arms like he's said something. Well, it warn't nice but the children do laugh when someone's silly, and he flushed all red but ignored them.

"And the Burgermeister, he looks back up at Wat and says, he says, 'And I have work to do!' and then he starts to head back to his forge. We nearly died at that one, we did, with the Big Man standing there with his mouth just a gaping like a frog lost the fly.

"'Wait', cries this Wat, 'I have a MAP.'

"And then the Burgermeister turns and says, he says all sly but with a straight face, 'Well maybe you should see a cleric about that, I hear they cure all sorts of fools.' I'm standing here to tell you, we knew who won *that* conversate of words!"

"But we din't expect what Wat did next, not in the whole world would we have guessed that. You know what Wat did? Well, you wouldn't guess neither. No, no sir. He didn't go find a cleric, but thankee for your guess, I guess some of y'all do be listening.

"He stands up like a pole pine and points a hand shaking all mad-like at the Burgermeister, eyes bulging, and says some Words!" She pauses to look significantly at the shadowy audience, fully caught up in the wonder of her tale.

"Thanks right! Struck us dead-silent too! 'Cause when he said them Words, a little stream of FIRE came shooting out his finger without burning a nail, and ran straight as a bear's pizzle to hit the Burgermeister in the back!

"Well now, as G'ma's tell the little uns, if anger ruled the world, the wolverines would win, but never lose your thoughts. Wat should've listened to his Nanner a bit more, as I could recommend to some who think they've grown too big to listen...

"Well, the burgermeister, being a forge-worker as I think I mentioned? Anyways, he is, and he was wearin' his Rent charm what lets him work the fires without getting burnt, and he turned and just looked at Wat like Wat had been all foolish, like he'd look at a little hobbit-boy who'd knocked his cap off in winter with a snowball, you know how they try to resist, but foolishness is just part of a boy, anyway.

"That Wat didn't know what had happened. If he was mad before, let me tell you, he was struck dumb then. You could see him wilt like day old lettuce left in the sun. Here he'd thought just cause he were big and had a touch of magic that he was a king or something. Reality will straighten out the most foolish boy's fantasies and often has a fang, it does. And his fantasy went straight way, because the Burgermeister may have seemed small to Wat, but he sure gave him what-for!

"He striked him left, right, and center, and after the first head-butt to the belly, that lantern-chin was well in striking distance!

"It being hard to magic someone with a broken jaw, that Wat flew back up the trail like the hawk that bit the snake, and found it was the tiger's tail. Left his pack in the Burgermeister's grasp he was in such a hurry, and he hasn't come back for it yet, so I imagine it's still in the corner of the forge.

"All sorts of nasty things in bottles and a book that burnt the hand, not like I didn't tell by brother not to touch it, but there's just no teacher like the burnt hand and he only lost a nail. But the pack is why we know his name was Wat, and it had his map.

"And that was the biggest joke of all! The map was about a hun'erd years old and it showed to the village larder where we gather the potatoes!

"What? I'm sorry, what don't you understand?

"Oh! I'm sorry your Lords and Ladyships. I forgot, y'all being such a good listeners ye are, that y'all weren't my own village children listening. Even they know about the famine in the Kingdom back then.

"That fool Wat thought it was a map to treasure, and I suppose that potatoes count more than gold to the hungry mouth."

"Anyway, thankee for listening to an old woman natter on."

With that, she scurried from the stage and left it waiting for the next storyteller.

Katzaniel · December 9, 2004

Ven: Actually I was looking more for the language used specifically by the person telling the story. It would be more along my thoughts if either a) Ug was telling some sort of story or Venefyxatu was more a part of the post. What I mean by that is that he's mentioned in the start but the rest of it reads like it's written. If he were telling the story to the crowd, he'd need to say things like, "Then Ug shouted 'I haf yer statsjoo!!'." And if Venefyxatu showed something of his own opinion of the events he's describing.

If you don't want to edit it, or don't have time, then it's fine - but if you can edit in some stuff like that, that'd be great.

Wyvern · December 10, 2004

As the halfling lass timidly scurried off of the stage, a small goblin boy scrambled into the spotlight and took her place, smiling to the audience and giving them an ample view of his filthy, jagged teeth. Beside him crawled a baby troll, with one thumb stuck in his mouth while the other dragged along a stone club at least twice his size. The goblin boy bounced back and forth, his ragged gobln elmentury skool outfit flailing left and right as he pranced around the stage. The spotlight weaved chaotically as it followed him until he finally came to a halt again next to the baby troll, and squealed:

"Hi hi, me name's Yecchy, this Pointy Rock. I'm here an' there's skool an I'm not goin cus teachy wans us to do tess on why dwarfies're bad an I know why, cus they stink and they gots hairs on da chinnies. 'Stead, I'm here an I'mma tell the bestest ruggy-rude lore-mirrie EVER!"

The boy posed proudly, then fished through his pockets for a centipede and tossed it in his mouth, letting it wriggle there for a moment before chewing on it's crunchy texture.

"Mmm, numyum 'pedey good. Anyhoo, this story s'better n'a horsey food with th'blood on it, an also better'n a bar bar spar, n'also better n'a clowny elf bones' breakin, and way way way better than a booby trap spritey race. Me and Pointy Rock likey much, happened to cusin an s'a real ludey dooder, right Rocksy?"

The baby troll silently sucked its thumb.

"Story go like dis: once upon a time, der's bar. Lotsa foamy drink, hic hics, an cleany men. Orcy cusin Glormphflorm no cleany though: he sit at table, get biiiiig drink, an' cleanies no like smelly, so they go 'Glormph! Lorney the packets, big wig hub!' And Glorpmphfy dizzy drink, so he spit at cleany man, who mad but Glormph say that dwarfie did it. Man turns, slam gitzles dwarfie in da nose! Kerplamo, wooooom! Chairs are all over, cleany man bites elfy in the ear, dwarfie tangled in mail, big shouts and foamy sock'em rock'em roll'em!"

The goblin child accentuated his phrases to the audience with a confusing mixture of mock punches and twirls. Watching this, Pointy Rock removed the thumb from his mouth and grinned, revealing one enormous tooth and babbling "Gah Guh." The baby troll then proceeded to slam his stone club on the stage floor several times, causing a small earthquake for the attentitive crowd. Once the tremors had passed, Yecchy yammered:

"N'so, orcy cus' thinkin 'Gorbs! Me no wanty be dead bar hide.' So he run an he duck an he stuck an he lose pants an he lose shirt an he still run! An he scream an he leave an here da big ludey dooder: cleanies see'im do it an they make song! 'Yelluh-Belly Half-a-Orc' song, everyone knows an all kinds're sung. An' that's me lore-mirrie, thankee thankee sick and spanky."

With that, Yecchy stuck his thumb in his nose and removed a large booger, looking at it greedily and sticking it in his hair for later. The goblin child then dropped his pants and mooned the crowd briefly before running off stage, the baby troll sluggishly following after him in enormous crawls.

Xaious, Master of Time · December 20, 2004

As the goblin and baby troll removed themselves from the stage, a large half-orc sauntered up onto it. He wasn't no ordinary halr-orc, this one. The crowd murmered to themselves about the seven-foot-two half-orc, who was dressed in bright and gaudy clothing of every color, with clean hair, in the same fashion as one the Beatles, but with big bushy eyebrows, and lips so big that Steven Tyler would be jealous. When he reached the middle of the stage, he pulled out his mighty Axe--it was a greataxe with a slightly longer handle, two knobs at the end without the axe-head, and two strings running down the length of the handle. Then he began talking:

" 'Ey, mah naim ish Krug, an' ah'm 'ere ta play yas sohm sohngs." The big guy informed the crowd, adjusting the little knobs, occasionally plucking the strings. Seemingly satisfied, Krug began plucking, to remind himself of how to play his song.

"'Aight, thish wun ish naimed...er..ah dun' gott a naim forr it, so Ah'ma jush gonn playe it forr yas." And Krug began his song.