"No Shit, there I was..." Writing Contest - 2015

Quest Offering

(March 19, 2015)
I am hosting a writing competition. The theme is, "No &#!^, there I was..." Recounting a tale of high adventure, worse luck, or the one that got away, within the context of TFC.
Extra Bonus Points will be given if you are basing your tale on an event on TFC for which you have a log you can provide.
Entries should be emailed to Cordir@hotmail.com .

Rules:
As always, I am the sole arbiter of the winner.
Entries will be posted to the wiki.
The deadline is April 1st at noon.
Grammar and spelling counts.
Minimum of 500 words.
One entry per _character_.
ALL Entries should start with the catch phrase, "No &#!^, there I was..."

Prizes:
1st place: 500,000 gold and a 3 Quest Point voucher
2nd place: 250,000 gold and a 2 Quest Point voucher
3rd place: 150,000 gold, and a 1 quest point voucher

Nicholai: Winning Entry: "About Last Night"

No &#!^, there I was just finishing up gutting a ogre shaman when she shows up, angry as hell about last night and before I knew it I was running for my life!

I had just located a particular item for a scavenger hunt that I joined in on an hour late, as usual. Winning a quest voucher in a scavenger hunt is nice, but my main motivation was to hear those screams of agony and despair over gossip that often went something like ”OMG! no no no no no, Nicholai STOP!”. And this time was no different as I strolled on into the smelly mudhole of Gronk searching for an alligator’s stomach, quite oblivious that I was slowly being pursued with the intentions of turning me into a chew toy. I had just submitted the item and unlocked the door when in she strutted, squawking to no avail in my silent room, then with a complicated gesture she cleansed the room and began the onslaught. With feathers flying her claws ANNIHLATED me once, twice, three times before I could grasp the situation, then two more in another flurry of blood soaked talons sent me fleeing out the door. I hit the ground barely clinging to life by 5 hps. A comment about how it would be unbecoming of the Eldest to have anything less than 900 hit points rang through my ears as that fact was the only reason I still drew breath. I had no desire to make my way back past those guarded gates completely nude, I’m not certain if the ogre residents would find that obscene or enticing, and I did not want to find out. Crawling another room away from her I retrieved my heal staff and brandished a few times before she arrived again. Luckily for my sake she wasn’t the quickest of the flock in chasing, probably due to the incessant need to befoul each room with pink phosphate, from which orifice she spews it I won’t speculate. I scrambled to my feet and portalled safely to the Loth Llorien inn where I was promptly, and accurately, told I looked like hell. Something had to be done about my stalker quickly if I was going to continue in the scavenger hunt, so I started to plan my trap.

I set some alarms along the tree branches and recruited a friend to keep me company, and take up space, down in the hollow trunk, and waited.

I then recanted the story leading up to this mess...

The day prior I ventured South past the Mysteria falls and scaled up the treacherous path to Candlespyre Mountain with the intention of inquiring about a new hat. After a refreshing rest at the campsite I engaged in some aggressive negotiations with the Unfinished Guardian (who by the way does not like having it pointed out to him what needs finishing). After convincing him that I was worthy and prying the proof from his cold dead claws I traversed the rest of the mountain seeking each totem in succession, then revisited the Guardian’s resting place causing the mountain to open up for me. Having crossed this way before I knew what to expect, first to greet me would be an oversized lizard with a bad static electricity problem, a handful of some overly burnt popcorn helped make short work of him. I cautiously passed through the cave expecting more trouble, but it seemed the Wyvern and Chimera were on lunch break probably devouring the remains of an unlucky adventurer. Up a short path I arrived before her nest, peering into the swirling haze did not yield any indication of what awaited me, so I readied myself with some protective spells and a handy potion and stepped North. And that is when the trouble began. I had apparently interrupted the Mighty Phoenix Nataraja in a private moment and she was not amused. She is over protective of her well and crowns, to the point of a disorder if you ask me, and did not care for visitors, so I didn’t stick around long. Quaffing a potion that’s taste can only be described as poorly racked beechwood aged road kill juice with some un-neutered male cat spray overtones, I found myself half dead amongst a few corpses of baby bats. But after a few hours of waiting for her find me I thought perhaps my quick exit was enough and she had returned to whatever she was doing with that twig and pinecone, and I went upon my merry way…

Now back to Lorth Llorien with alarms sounding in my head I knew she had arrived and alerted my friend to stay put, she was right above us, unable to squeeze herself down the tree she just stood there glaring. I then proceeded to take care of her the best way I know how to get rid of crazy chicks, by dropping large flaming rocks on their heads. Swarm after swarm she eventually relented, leaving only a pile of feathers, an unimpressive claw, and the way through the mist, along with a trail of nasty pink phosphate that just will not wash out no matter how hard you try. Of course I had to do it all over again just to get that new hat.

Entry by Aoide

No @#!&, there I was, staring down at Daisy’s dead body. Multiple corpses, actually, but the freshest was the one that held my attention. Nevyn’s taunts were still ringing in my ears. My left side was completely caked in dirt from where he had pushed me over during the fight. The corpses were all sort of my fault, since Daisy had died trying to help me kill Nevyn, but this one was definitely my doing. My very first kill. The wisps of enchanted darkness hadn’t completely fled the room yet, so I squinted through the haze and waved my hands in front of my face to get a better look. She didn’t die all that gracefully, really. I’m not sure why I expected any differently. But still. Her arms and legs were splayed out and bent at painful-looking angles. I was in shock, I think, because I just kind of stood there. I stretched my own arm away from my body and tried to mimic her position by bending it backwards on itself. It didn’t work. My foot hurt. She has a pretty hard head, after all, and the round kick to the head had not been particularly comfortable for me (albeit much less so for her). How in the world did I get here? I blinked my eyes rapidly again, disoriented. When my vision cleared, I wasn’t in the Lightwood Forest any longer. This was another dark place, but one lit by moonlight rather than the glaring, forced brightness of my conjured sunlight.

I could see myself, like I was standing unnoticed in the back of the room. But I could also remember what it was to be standing there, and the two images and sensations competed in a nauseating clash. This time I was smaller, younger, and less sure of my place. Less everything, really. Certainly I had less gear, less experience, and less understanding of the realm’s secrets. I stood in a midnight-shadowed garden, trembling before the intense Brightness before me: the Sisters, Wyld and Weaver, along with the most enormous spider I have ever seen. Though she wasn’t bright, per se. Mostly just distressing in her enormity. Ftell was buzzing with something, probably plots for a Hunt or debates about what went awry in the last one. I was not focused on that. First of all, my wrist was aching. I had a very peculiar spider bite on the inside of my wrist that had a way of making itself known. Second of all, I never participated in the Hunts. I was too timid and too kind-hearted. (Or so my mother would say. There are those who would say I was just scared. Or inept.) Well either way, there I was, not paying attention to whatever the boys were chattering about and waiting my turn to speak. I was in the garden to swear my Geasa in homage to my dual nature as one of the Wyld Hunt and a favored bardling of the Ebon Weaver. I knew what I planned to say. I just had to wait my turn and try my best to listen to the goddesses as they spoke. I blinked and shook my head slightly to focus. But, man, did my wrist hurt!

Three oaths, for three aspects. To record my knowledge of the realm and share it with the Hunt. To speak no word that is not true. To aid the Hunt in any way I could, even in the Cutting of Threads. I should mention here that Cordir and Katrana were skeptical of that last oath. I was too. Could I really slay another? If I ever gained the requisite skill, would I somehow also gain the stomach for it? If there’s any question, here’s a little sneak back to the present: No, not really. Although there are two whose threads I would gleefully cut. I would cackle with pleasure as I danced atop their graves. But this is not that story.

I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to see the present, but I found myself somewhere else entirely. Somewhere dim. Indoors. I could tell by the sounds and smells where I was long before I oriented to the when. I stood in the Hunting Lodge: home. Again, my vision danced with memory of standing there, freshly scrubbed and pale with fear. The spider bite had stopped burning by this point. It had meandered its way to where it sits still to this day, and was thankfully less painful. When I heard Cordir say the words, I felt the weight of it in memory and saw myself process the task across the room. “Third.... to bind you to the spirit of your neglected Geasa...Cut a Thread.”

With a puff of wind blowing through the leaves of the forest, the mist cleared away. The reality of it hit me suddenly: here I stood, lost in memory with a very angry Nevyn on my tail. “Come to the temple,” I told Daisy in a rush. “And I’m so sorry! That’s what you get for helping me, I guess.” I grabbed her corpse and made a silent gesture. I felt myself yank away home to the Lodge. I thought I might have seen something in the corner of my eye when I landed on the familiar rushes, an elf dressed in a clean white robe, clutching an ebony clarinet in one pale hand. But when I turned fully, she was gone.

Entry by Alfonse:

No $%!#, there I was… in a slumber just outside of the Guild Hall portal in Tiren’s Rock. I had just walked back into town, when someone uttered the word, “Sleep”, immediately I fell to the ground. My assailant went straight to his handy work, and prepared my soon to be corpse for a magic ritual. I could not fathom what evil deeds might be happening to my body while in my slumber. Panic and struggle fills my body as I try to wake myself from this magic induced sleep.

With what seemed like an eternity, I was finally able to open my eyes. With my sight returned, I also felt something else, a dagger in back. I howled in pain, looking around I finally saw my undead, demi-lich assailant. I didn’t get much more than that, when the next slashes and stabs landed on me, and put me on my knees. The assassin put me right into position for the last and final attack, and did so ever skillfully. That’s where my life ended, and I was reborn.

I know who assaulted me, and I knew why. Previously Venom and I had exchanged words. I was trying to protect my friend. My friend Samiyah, is a bard from the desert. Samiyah and I had become really close friends, especially after I told a tale of her adventures and exploits. We have a friendship in resemblance of a teacher and a student. Our roles would often switch back and forth. We would answer each other’s questions to help grow in knowledge of Magic, Mind, Body, and the World.

I was caught in the middle of a bitter rivalry between Samiyah and Venom. Bad blood had been between the two for quite some time already. Venom though had a new agenda; a way to hurt the desert opal, the goal was bard elimination. Venom vowed to Samiyah that he would kill every bard that was a friend of hers. In turn he’d turn the bards into components for his own dastardly deeds.

With me being a friend of Samiyah’s, and under Venom’s watchful eye. The Demi-Lich would stalk me, while I was unaware. I would be out and about finding new species of animals, or traveling to find new places. All the while Venom was following my tracks and gathering information about me. He would cover land, air, sea, and even extra-dimensional places. There was no place that I could go, where at some point he would find a trace of my passage. With carelessness and uncovered tracks, I had eventually led him right to my home town.

So now I write down the tale of what happened on that fateful day to share with people the struggle between good and evil. How friends would walk to deaths door, and not think anything of it, to show how much the other friend means to them. Keep your friends close and enemies closer. Believe in what you say, and show everyone how you feel.

Entry by Ghazkull

(Entry Disqualified, did not meet minimum requirements)

No &#!^, there I was... in the shadow of Jesters Keep, nothing around except hostile trees and witches. I had tried to sate myself from the cauldron i had stumbled across, now i shivered and scratched myself randomly from the poison coursing through my veins.

Instinct told me I had to feed, the impulse almost completely overpowering despite my incomplete transformation. I cast wildly around, my eyes looking for a source of food... A witch!, she'll have to do. I attack, in my weakened state and next thing I know the lights go out, i'm blinded with no cure available, then I feel myself running, images flashing through my head of my greatest, darkest fears.

I run for what seems like hours before running into something hard, like the trunk of a tree. blinded, I had to rely on my other senses, I dodged like i'd never dodged before, swinging wildly with my weapons and randomly casting my spells into the blackness.

Then, death took me, until my soul was reborn, but a few moments later.

Winners

And the Winners Are....

1st place: 500,000 gold and a 3 Quest Point voucher - Nicholai. His tale of misadventure with a giant chicken had me giggling.
2nd place: 250,000 gold and a 2 Quest Point voucher - Aoide. Her more somber tale of thread-cutting was extremely well written and evocative.
3rd place: 150,000 gold, and a 1 quest point voucher - Alfonse. This tale of death and foul ritual ended with a strong, powerful message.
Honorable Mention: Ghazkull - 100,000 gold and a nifty potion - This tale sadly did not meet all of the requirements (500 word minimum) but was excellent in its brevity.

Please see me on mud for prizes.