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BotL - Monthly fluff challenge

Kelborn

By Kelborn
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simison Venerable Brother

simison

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Posted

Apologies for the delays. The winner is Blunt's entry, "Cusp of the Storm". 

 

By three votes, December will be devoted to the Drowned. 

 

Finally, I recommend we drop the number of judges from 5 to 3. There just aren't enough participants to warrant a large judge panel.

Kelborn Venerable Brother

Kelborn

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Oh Lord, blind had his marching orders, so Kel, maybe something between the predators and the drowned. Let's get us a good spectrum of things going.

I'll read the Drowned article within Insurrection. If I have something in mind, I'll let you know. As our Legions are fellow warriors, it is likely to have a shared history.

helterskelter Veteran

helterskelter

Posted
Posted (edited)

Dare.

A curious thing a dare in the mind of a child, it can inspire acts of unusual bravery, or more common stupidity. Whichever is open to the interpretation of the observer, an adult would see the latter, the more youthful the former, in this instance the youthful ruled. The older boys had told them the tale of the swamplands, about how every generation; any boys who have not yet trodden the road to manhood are claimed by the things that rise from those dank, dark waters.

And here lay the dare. Spend a night in the swamps and none would ever poke fun at them again. With apprehension the group of boys, set out with their lumen globes, and sleeping bags, the sun still peaking ever so slightly above the weeping trees, bathing the sky the colour of a deep bruise in its final rays. They picked their way over the gnarled roots along the drier rises between the trees; a misstep in either direction would see them fall into the blackening waters, which would leave them sodden and stinking. It would also risk disturbing the local creatures, which had no yet risen from their daytime slumber, seeking an opportune breakfast from a floundering child.

 

The boys found themselves a nice patch of mossed earth large enough to accommodate this small merry band. Five in all, between 10 and 12 summers each, they played and talked as boys do til the last of the natural light fell, and the night rose. The boys made to cease their games but then there were only four. In a panic they took their globes and set out to find their lost friend calling his name, their shrill voices dying in the breeze as it whipped through the dangling limbs of the weeping trees. A shriek and a splash, they ran back to each other, only three now, fear making its way into their hearts, they dare not split again for fear of losing another.

Cautiously they crept deeper into the swamp, less hard earth to be found and the brackish fluid started creeping around their ankles, cold, uncaring. Onward they went stepping over twisted roots, stepping over a twisted arm. Bringing their globes together, they saw their friend for the last time, pale and lifeless, a bloodied ring upon his neck, like suckers from the tentacled creatures of the seas they learnt of in the school house. They fled toward home. They fled as best they could. Roots tripped them, branches ensnared them, the earth slipped beneath them.

Another splash, only two now, eyes watering from the terror coursing through them, and the harsh breeze stinging their eyes, a dull thud, another boy fell but the last did not turn to stop. Then a crack as his nose split. Blood pouring down his face, white light spiking his vision he felt a biting on his neck. His vision cleared to see two dead white lights staring down at him, he raised his globe, that he desperately clung to, a shimmer of sea green edged in rose copper.

An affirmative ping.

The boy yelped as he was dragged back into the swamp, the black and brackish water enveloping him, and he saw his friends for the last time, being carried away into the depths of the night by the same monsters that held him.

The Drowned had claimed their Tithe.

Edited by helterskelter
simison Venerable Brother

simison

Posted
Posted (edited)

The Under-worlder and the Over-worlder

 

"Come, Warmaster!" Daer'dd cheerfully bellowed, waving his drink about for emphasis. "Give the audience a taste of your station!"

 

Privately, Alexandros feared this particular request. He had only been Warmaster for a few weeks now and did not want to come off as becoming arrogant with his new place in the Great Crusade. Already, there were whispers that this three-day celebration was a sign that the new Warmaster lacked his father's sense of duty and restraint. 

 

Or, worse, compared to Icarion's. 

 

Yet, he did not want to disappoint his much taller brother or the crowd now watching him. An actual insult to one of his closest supporters would cost more than a potential criticism down the road from his detractors. Having decided all this in less than a second, Alexandros flashed his biggest grin at Daer'dd before raising the Spear of Terra aloft. Filling the Spear with a portion of his will caused streaks of lightning to flare off of it. 

 

A modest display. But the Great Bear himself released a peal of delighted laughter before saying to Hectarion. "A worthy of successor to our Emperor! This calls for another drink!" 

 

Before Alexandros could respond, he spied an opportunity to repair a broken relationship. "Hec, I think Daer'dd has had twice as much as you've had. Surely, you'll not let this stand?"

 

Daer'dd released a happy cry. "You wish to challenge me, little brother? Very well, I accept!"

 

Whether or not Hectarion enjoyed the fact that he had been thrown into a drinkng game, he threw himself into the contest as he hastily downed his next drink. 

 

Slipping away from the contest, Alexandros walked down the steps of the collesseum, aiming for one of the entrances to the combat floor. In addition to the feasting and revels, the floor of the collesseum had been opened to Legionaries wishing to prove their skill against one another. As of the moment, a Drowned officer wielded a harpoon and net against a Warrior of Peace grandmaster fighting with a pair of hook swords.  

 

Standing in one of the collesseum entrances was the Lord of the XVIth. Even within this dazzling place, Morro was keeping to the shadows as best as he could, his eyes fixed on the duelists. Pointedly, Morro held his goblet his left hand. The augmetic replacement for his hand was kept behind his back. 

 

Alexandros stepped into the arch before giving Morro a deep nod. "Brother."

 

[in-progress...]

Edited by simison
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