SF's "Write Your Butt Off!" Writing Competition XIV

[blah the Prussian]

Awesome. I can probably whip something up by then. Re entering.

[Etria]

Hm, I'm not sure if a temporary restriction of hearing would be appropriate. Kinda like a tinnitus?

[blah the Prussian]

Can the disability be non physical as long as it still severely affects the characters occupation?

[Loki Laufeyson]

Alright. To keep the cycles consistent, let's give this until Sunday, April 19, at 11:00 PM HST.

The new end time! Once again, Hawaii does not observe DST, so use that clock to figure out how much time is left!

You are the best. I was actually going to pull out cuz time and...some other reasons, But now i dont have to. <3

[Florete]

So I noticed the second round had started and had to go searching through the thread to find the topic because it wasn't in the OP.

Suggestion: Put the current round in the OP. Either a link to the post or a quote of the post itself (or both). For quick use, here it is: http://serenesforest.net/forums/index.php?showtopic=52670&p=3691689

Apparently I'm super late as it is but the deadline has been extended so I'll see if I can't think of something to write for this round.

[Rapier]

I also want to try my luck with this one. Seems interesting~

[Jotaro Kujo]

I'm going to enter this one. I have really awful writer's block but I have an idea regardless so I'm going to take the extra time to work through it and polish it up.

[eclipse]

Hm, I'm not sure if a temporary restriction of hearing would be appropriate. Kinda like a tinnitus?

Depends on how much it affects the character.

Can the disability be non physical as long as it still severely affects the characters occupation?

Since I have no idea what you have in mind, PM me with more details.

Man, I forgot about putting it into the OP, sorry Fox. I'll do that now~!

[Brialluen]

It's not too late to join the current round, is it? I've had a plot bunny for quite a long while involving a character who lacks depth perception as well as 1) their memories, 2) language (I do mean all their memories), and 3) colour vision, if those collectively count...

[eclipse]

It's not too late to join the current round, is it? I've had a plot bunny for quite a long while involving a character who lacks depth perception as well as 1) their memories, 2) language (I do mean all their memories), and 3) colour vision, if those collectively count...

Point 3 and the lack of depth perception would be enough for this, but everything together sounds interesting!

You've got roughly a week to write. Good luck~!

[Dragoncat]

Title: Musings of a Black Dog

Fandom: None.

Summary: The dog I owned for 13 years talks about her life and afterlife.

Words: 1390

All creatures who raise their young and are considered higher species use names. It’s just more convenient to say, for example, “Rover” instead of “The dog who lives with the humans by the pond”. But when different species who don’t speak the same language interact, there’s no way that they’ll know what each others’ parents named them. So they’ll make up new names for each other.

My mother named me Ebuf. In Dogese, the name means “dark furred swimming one”. Humans call dogs like me “black labs”, “chocolate labs”, or “yellow labs”, depending on how dark or light our fur is, and often take us to lakes and rivers to do what we do best: swimming. Some humans even hunt birds using things that dogs call boom sticks, and the lab’s job is to run out and retrieve the bird. The humans I call my family weren’t bird hunters, but they did let me swim in the lake from time to time.

Before I met those humans, however, I lived with my mother and two brothers. My mother was named Sepi, and my brothers were Runol and Liarf. We resembled our father more, Mom had the longest fur and had lighter patches, whereas Dad and us pups had no markings. Dad’s name was Daro. I was the only one who inherited his dark fur.

We had a nice puppyhood. We learned at a young age that humans can be either very good or very bad. The good ones will give out food and shelter. The bad ones will charge and yell if they see you, sometimes even pull their boom sticks on you. The worst of the bad will purposely hurt or kill you. The best of the good...will treat you so well that you end up giving up your life in the fields outside the human territories and living with them in their dens, where they give you endless food, shelter, and kindness. Mom tended to stay around her den where we were born, so she didn’t get to meet many humans. But Dad was a different story. On his travels, he met humans on both ends of the spectrum. Once he showed up with a hurt paw. He had sprained it while running away from a bad one. Another time he announced that a good one had left a big pile of meat and he needed help bringing it back. We ate until we were stuffed and buried the rest outside the den for later, it lasted us for quite awhile.

That was very long ago. Now it is time to fast forward, to my life with the humans who called me Blacky. They weren’t the first humans I met. The first ones found me during a time when food was hard to find, and loaded me into one of their noisy moving dens, then took me to a den with a bunch of other dogs. We each had our own enclosed space, and were allowed out to run from time to time. These humans called me Piggy. The ones I spent the rest of my life with showed up one day, took me to their den, and I had a bigger place for running and digging and everything else dogs do.

They also had a few cats. Cats can be temperamental, but these ones never bothered me much. I especially liked the small female called Kay. We were like sisters. When I aged into a light muzzled “poor old girl”, as one of the humans called me, Kay would massage my aching hips. She used her own back paws to knead the area around my hindquarters, with her front paws on the ground for balance. It was great when it lasted. Kay was, and still is, a shy cat. She stopped when the humans started seeing the scene every day.

Being a poor old girl with bad hips wasn’t fun, but that should be obvious. I missed the days when I could run and jump and chase balls. Eventually, I was fed some magic treats every day: two dark colored soft ones and one light colored crunchy one. They were magic because they helped with my hip problems. I would’ve liked them to taste a bit better, but I guess magic that tastes like meat hasn’t been invented yet.

But there came a time when even the magic treats started to not work. I know it wasn’t because the magic was running out, because they still tasted the same. I think my body just started to reject the magic. One day I collapsed in the yard, and couldn’t get back up. I had to be carried into my den. It was a long night, the pain in my hips kept me awake for a good sized portion of it. I wondered what the next step would be. Humans are smart and resourceful, surely they would have something like more powerful magic treats?

The next morning, I was taken back to the human magician. It’s funny that even though I don’t speak Humanish, I could tell that they were saying that they didn’t have more powerful magic treats and they were going over other options. One option was for the magician to attempt to fix my hips, give me some magic to make me fall asleep and wake up all better, like he had done when I ate a large fruit seed and it hurt my stomach. For some mysterious reason, however, that works better on younger dogs, and he wasn’t sure that it would work at all.

The only magic that would work for sure had a catch: I would have to part with my human friends and pretty much everyone. It was sad and I know it was a hard decision for them to make. As the magic made me slip away, I felt my ears being scratched like I had always loved.

I opened my eyes and saw a vast open field with plants that grew meat and treats. I wagged my tail, ran, jumped, and played with the other dogs. Sure enough, my hips were completely healed.

A small dog with long fur told me that he had lived with the same humans I did before he, too, had to leave them behind. They had called him Gizmoe. After we had filled ourselves with the food from the plants, Gizmoe took me to the shores of a river. Gazing into the water, I saw my human family. They looked completely lost and sad, as was expected. Gizmoe said that they had looked the same way after he had to leave and before I came along. This river, he said, had another purpose. Diving into it would grant temporary access to the outside world, but since I had already come to the Land Beyond the Rainbow Bridge, I would be invisible to most creatures. I could choose one creature per trip to show myself to. But they couldn’t be one I knew, they had to be a stranger. Gizmoe then told me that it was perfectly possible and acceptable to guide another dog to our old friends to fill the gap we left. He had done so with me! But I had never seen him before...he explained that once the guiding was complete and the new dog was settled, their memory of the one who brought them there would be erased.

I knew what I had to do. I picked a dog who was slightly bigger than I was at his age, but who looked just like me. He even had a similar background, he also came from the big den that belongs to the humans who called me Piggy. They called him Tyson. His name wasn’t changed when my human family brought him home. I wonder why, but I know they have their reasons.

Back in the Land Beyond the Rainbow Bridge, I often go to the river to check on things. They are happy again, which makes me happy. Tyson is loving life just as I did. Someday we will all be together...but for now, this is how things are. And I am grateful to have had these experiences.

[Etria]

Hm, I'm not entering after all. My piece is only ~700 words long and I already think it should be more succinct. Looking forward to the next contest, though. Good luck for you, guys.

Edited April 15, 2015 by Farkas

[Anacybele]

I finally finished my entry! Certain parts were just proving hard to put into words, ugh... But it's done. :) Funny how both me and Dcat ended up writing about canines. lol

The title is "Scarred" and it focuses on the wolf laguz siblings I created years ago, Kiel and Sara. Kiel is the character I mentioned earlier, the one who is blind in one eye. This is about how he deals with this just after it happens and what Sara does to help him. So it also kind of shows the bond between close siblings. It's quite a bit longer than my last entry, btw, wound up being 4263 words. I managed to do more description in comparison to the dialogue this time too! I know it's another FE-related story, but I'll try not to make every one of my contest entries an FE story, I promise. :P

Scarred

A panting noise hurriedly echoed through a stone and wood barracks hall, showing no hint of stopping. Bursting through the nearest door was creature covered with darkened purple fur, suddenly coming to a halt. It was a wolf, its bushy tail swishing behind it. In its left ear sat a pink bow-shaped clip. Clearly, this wolf was female. She frantically scanned her surroundings as her mouth lay open and her tongue dropping saliva onto the grass before her. Out of breath from the run, the wolf growled to herself.

Ugh, Kiel, you idiot, where did you run off to?! she thought, near ready to pounce something. She then brought her nose to the ground and took a few whiffs. I still can’t even pick up his scent! What the hell is going on?!

The wolf broke into a run again, this time circling the building she had come out of, hoping to find Kiel somewhere nearby. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be seen. Out of breath, wolf panted even harder than before, having no choice but to turn around and head for the area’s main gate. Hopefully the guards there would have something of an answer for her. She raced there as fast her paws could carry her, for every second that passed would make it less likely that she would find Kiel.

When the wolf approached, her form was suddenly envelope in a glow, which disappeared nearly in an instant as her body changed. Her back legs became human legs while her forelegs became arms. Her now human torso was clothed with a sleeveless purple top with a black neck strap and short blue shorts. Her human feet wore brown sandals while then tan skin of her arms and legs was covered with intriguing brown markings. The only canine features she still retained were the two wolf ears in her short magenta hair and the long, bushy matching tail behind her. The desperation in her golden eyes did not vanish either.

“Hey, you two! You haven’t see my brother, Kiel, have you?” she inquired. “He was getting a serious wound treated and I heard he just bolted from the shaman for some reason! I can’t find him anywhere!”

Two gray wolves before her soon took the same transformation she had, now bearing human forms similar to her own, only with more masculine garb and differently colored fur and hair.

“Oh, actually, we did see a dark red wolf dart away from here about half an hour ago,” one of them said. “He looked frightened.”

“Yeah, we tried to ask him where he was going in such a hurry and see if we could do anything to help, but he just ignored us,” the second added.

“That’s strange… Kiel never ignored help before. He never hesitated to help others in need either,” the wolf girl recalled. “Which way did he go?”

The first wolf guard pointed to the path on the left.

“That way. Unfortunately, we have no idea which direction he went after that. He was hiding his scent with something, because he wasn’t giving off a unique scent at all. It’s like he doesn’t want to be found by anyone.”

“It smelled like one of those plants the soldiers often use to prevent enemy laguz from literally sniffing us out during war,” the second explained. “I think it was cloakweed. If you stick a few of those leaves in your fur, it’s like you’re completely invisible when you’re only twenty feet away.”

The wolf laguz girl growled in frustration at this notion.

“Blast it! I should’ve guessed as much when I couldn’t smell Kiel anywhere!” she realized. “Well, if he comes back, tell him Sara and the commander need to have a chat with him!”

“Of course,” the first wolf obliged.

“Thanks again.”

With that, Sara reverted back to her wolf form and darted off once again, this time down the left path. There were forests in all directions from there, so Kiel was most likely hiding in one of them. But why he would do such a thing was beyond her. All Sara could think was that it had to have something to do with his injury. There was simply no other possible motive he could have at the time. Kiel was a soldier in training, just as she was, and running off for any reason would be called cowardice in the eyes of a typical laguz. Laguz were proud warriors who could transform into powerful animal forms and very rarely took kindly at all to such behavior.

Maybe Kiel didn’t want others to see him frightened? Whatever the case, a pain of guilt began to take hold on Sara’s chest. The more she thought about it, the more she felt that she was partly responsible for her brother’s injury in the first place.

It had occurred earlier that day when Sara had run into delinquent recruits that made fun of her for her interest in being a warrior. She wasn’t that tall or strong yet and she was still a fairly new recruit. She had honestly wanted to break into tears after the things they had said and just walk away and prove them wrong. But Kiel, who had been with her and showing her around the barracks, was not going to let those two get away with treating his sister like that. He recklessly attacked them, and before long, the right side of his face had been slashed and covered with blood. Sara placed a powdery medicine called a vulnerary on it, but it was too serious of a wound to treat it completely. Kiel then went to one of the shamans that treated the sick and wounded in the barracks while Sara sought out their commanding officer so she could report the incident. By the time Sara had finished and visited the shaman to see how Kiel was doing, the red wolf was gone.

Just… What happened in that shaman’s room? Sara wondered mentally. The shaman said he had tried to stop Kiel, but the wolf wouldn’t listen. Yet, he had treated Kiel’s wound as best as he could. It had been a miracle that the red wolf hadn’t lost part of his brain, the wound had been so deep. But he could return to combat and training as long as the commander gave him permission.

So what in the name of the goddess is he afraid of?!

All Sara could do to answer that question was find Kiel and make him talk. She only hoped he would remain safe out there until then…

***

Hours later and deep in a forest, a crystal clear lake reflected sparkles of sunlight as a dark red figure lay beside it, staring at the water below it. It was a wolf, its ears drooped over as it didn’t turn away from its reflection. Seconds later, the wolf enveloped itself in a glow, its body transforming to be more human, just like the wolves at the barracks. This wolf laguz man had short, bright red hair, the same strange markings along his arms, and his canine ears remained drooped over. His unruly tail trailed behind him, while his body wore nothing but brown pants and ebony boots. Around the man’s neck was a thick, brown necklace with large, sharp teeth attached to it.

As the man gazed upon his reflection in the water, he was focused on nothing but the upper right side of his face. It was covered with three large claw marks that seemingly forced his right eye shut. And of course, he could not open the eye. In fact, he no longer even had an eye there, only the remains of the eyelid which had healed over the torn skin. The skin of the eyelid itself was wrinkled and many of its lashes were gone.

I’m hideous… the man thought to himself, a tear forming in his remaining eye. Just…why? What did I do to deserve this…?

The man let a growl escape his lips as he struck the water with his hand in order to wipe the reflection away. He then brought his hands to his face and could only weep.

I can never go back. Nobody will ever accept me like this. I’m ugly and crippled now… I can’t even face Sara, she’ll think I look horrible too! Not that I would blame her. Who wants a brother with an ugly face?

“Hell, who would even want to ever see this face at all?” Kiel wondered aloud, taking another glance in the lake, but turning away a split second later.

Indeed, not even he wanted to see that face. How could he walk through a village or town again without bystanders likely giving him weird looks? Or how would children he wants to protect be able to look at him without being frightened? Or how could he not expect certain rude people to make fun of his face? It was like Kiel wondered before, how could he be accepted now?

“All I ever wanted was to be a good warrior and hunter and fight for my country…” Kiel uttered, tears dropping from his remaining eye. “For the young cubs to look up to me, for Sara to look up to me… For my parents to be proud of me, even though they’re dead… But I try to protect Sara and this happens!”

And of course, there was the incident that caused his scars in the first place. The incident would haunt him forever. It had been both a sentence of humiliation and an entry way to the life of a cripple. Kiel wanted to make a pair of bullies pay for picking on his sister, and he ended up being the one to pay the most. But again, what had he done to deserve this?

“Just…why? Why, Ashera? Why…” Kiel muttered, questioning the goddess his people worshiped.

The only choice Kiel had now was to remain in forests, living as a hermit. He would hunt for food as he normally did, but instead of the barracks, he would live in a tree or cave, whichever he found suitable first. He would probably use the lake before him for water and bathing. And he would never come into contact with other people again, be them laguz, or even worse, beorc, the non-shapeshifting people that hateful laguz would refer to as humans. Many beorc equally hated laguz and referred to them as sub-humans. If Kiel was to be shunned by his own kind, why would a beorc ever accept or appreciate him? And just to be on the safe side, Kiel would let his hair grow so it could cover his scarred, blind eye. He still didn’t even want to look at it anyway.

Kiel went so deep into his thoughts on how he would live the remainder of his life that he didn’t hear someone emerge from the woods nearby. A familiar feminine voice suddenly snapped him out of his trance.

“Kiel! Finally!”

“Wha—?!” Kiel blurted, stumbling over. “Ah!”

“Kiel, where have you been?! I’ve been looking for you for hours!” the female voice shouted angrily.

“Sara?!” Kiel replied, turning slightly to find his sister standing before him. She had already reverted to her human form. Luckily, Kiel was able to only give her a view of the left side of his face. The side that wasn’t ugly.

“What did you expect, Queen Nailah?” she retorted.

“No, but I didn’t expect anyone to find me! What are you doing here? You should be back at the barracks and getting those dastards that picked on you some major punishment!”

“I already reported them and the commander is definitely going to make them pay for injuring you the way they did,” Sara explained. “And do you really think I wouldn’t go looking for you if you ran off without a trace?!”

“Well… I suppose not. But you still should leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you! What’s wrong with you? Why did you run away after the shaman treated you? Couldn’t he fix your eye?”

At this, Kiel paused for a moment, as the answer was so simple, yet so difficult to say.

“…No.”

“W-What? And why won’t you turn around and face me? Seriously, this behavior isn’t like you at all!”

“Because you don’t need to look at me! I’m sparing you a nightmare!”

“It can’t be that bad! Come on!”

Sara darted over and grabbed Kiel by his arm, yanking him around completely.

“NO! DON’T!” Kiel cried. But it was already too late.

Sara gasped as she beheld her brother’s new deformity, unable to take her eyes off of the glaring scars.

“Oh… Oh my goddess…”

“See! I told you! I’m hideous! I look like a monster!” Kiel insisted.

“Oh stop it. These scars don’t look that bad!” Sara disagreed. “But… You poor thing. I will admit that some laguz won’t be friendly about this.”

“Exactly! Others will either be afraid of me or they’ll just make fun of me! I don’t want that to happen…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, not everyone will be like that. And whoever is, we can just ignore them.”

“We? What do you mean, we? Why would you want to hang around someone as ugly as me?”

“Ugh, because you’re my brother! I will never just abandon you, Kiel.”

At this, Kiel froze yet again for another few moments. Was Sara serious?

“…You…you won’t?” Kiel replied.

“Of course not!” Sara assured. “Kiel, ever since Mom and Dad were killed, you’ve been the only family I ever had. You were the only one to always be there for me when I needed it. You’ve been helping me to learn more hunting and combat skills. You’re my role model.”

“But… You would look up to someone who’s ugly?”

“You’re not ugly to me. Besides, it’s not looks that are important, it’s what’s in your head and your heart.”

“Well, you have a point there,” Kiel admitted. “Thank you… I mean it, Sara. I thought I was doomed to remain alone and in the wilderness for the rest of my life, away from civilization and people. Just so nobody would have to look at me and react negatively. I even covered my scent so I wouldn’t be found.”

“Well, you were foolish to think that,” Sara countered. “Can we go back to the barracks now?”

“Oh, um…I don’t know… With my right eye blind, I can’t see to the right anymore. That’s going to be a hindrance in a fight,” Kiel pointed out. “I’ll probably have to receive a discharge and go find some other job.”

“You’re being ridiculous again, of course you can still be a warrior!” Sara protested. “Queen Nailah always fights with an eye covered!”

“Yeah, but she’s described as one of a kind, a prodigy. Laguz choose their rulers based on strength, remember? The chances of me being like her are slim.”

“Maybe so, but you can still try to be a good warrior. You never know if you’ll succeed if you don’t give it a shot.”

“I suppose… By the way, how did you find me?”

“Ha, believe me, it wasn’t easy. I couldn’t smell you, so I had to look for your paw prints or whiffs of that cloakweed you used and such. I didn’t think I would ever find you.”

“Oh, I see. Your tracking skills are getting better then.”

“That’s good to know. So, can we go now?”

“Yeah, I suppose we—”

Kiel suddenly cut himself off and fell silent, his eyes looking straight ahead.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Shh! I heard something nearby!”

“Huh? But I don’t… Wait I hear it now! And I smell it too! Ugh, it’s horrible!”

Sara didn’t hesitate to cover her nose quickly.

“Oh my goddesses, it’s making my nose hurt!” Kiel agreed. “It smells like…oh no.”

“wolf laguz bandits!” Sara finished in worrisome realization.

“And they haven’t bathed in who knows how long…” Kiel added. “Come out, whoever you are!”

Suddenly, a loud rustling of some nearby foliage echoed from behind the two wolves.

“Well, well, look what we have ‘ere, boys!” a gruff, masculine voice spoke up.

Kiel and Sara turned to see an ebony wolf approach them, followed by three more wolves whose fur were each different shades of gray. They all transformed into human forms similar to that of Kiel, only with various small scars on their bodies alongside the strange markings. Their pants and boots were dirty and ragged and their hair almost appeared to be greasy.

“We’ve found ourselves a couple o’ strays!” the lead wolf continued.

“Yeah, and get a load o’ the red one,” one of his underlings added. “Looks like he had a lil’ accident. Can’t see with that right eye no more! Hahaha!

The four wolves soon burst into laughter, and Kiel could only look away as he brought his hands to the right side of his face.

“Hey! You leave my brother alone, you filthy hairballs!” Sara retorted angrily. “He doesn’t need both of his eyes to be strong!”

“Oh really?” the lead wolf replied. “How does he see somethin’ chargin’ from his right then?”

“He…He’s got other senses!” Sara quickly realized. “Kiel, stand up to these guys! We can’t let them push you around!”

“Sara, I…” Kiel began, but wasn’t able to finish. The lead wolf soon spoke again.

“Ha, pathetic! Listen here, you pups. This perdy lake is our turf, so you best be leavin’!”

“What? We don’t have go anywhere! Leave us alone or find someplace else to wash that stench away!” Sara ordered.

The four wolves could only burst out laughing once again. Sara’s blood only boiled further.

“Ain’t she cute?” another one of the underlings commented. “Little girl, this is the smell of being men! And if you and yer brother want to pick a fight with us, then we’ll be glad to rip ya to shreds!”

With that, the wolf bandits transformed back into their canine forms. Sara could only let a gasp escape her lips as she turned to Kiel again.

“Kiel, come on and help me fight! They’re going to attack!”

“What? No way, are you nuts?! We’re not strong enough!” Kiel protested. “We have to run!”

“No we don’t! Like I said, you can use your other senses to make up for your lost eye! In fact, you heard those bandits coming before I did and the stench seems to have hurt your nose more than it did mine! I think the loss of part of your vision is enhancing your other senses a bit!”

“…Hey, you’re right, I did notice them before you,” Kiel realized. “You might have something there!”

“Hey, are ya gonna leave or do we really have to get rid of you the hard way?” the lead wolf bandit spoke up again.

With renewed confidence, Kiel turned to face him.

“No,” he replied, and transformed into his own wolf form. “Blind eye or not, I can take one or two of you losers.”

“Hahaha, come at us then!”

“Delighted!”

“Alright, Kiel!” Sara cheered as she joined her brother and transformed. “Try to hear them coming if they dash to your right!”

“Yeah!” Kiel agreed.

With that, the siblings made no hesitation to engage the wolf bandits. Since Sara didn’t have as much experience as Kiel, he insisted that she leave the leader to him. The leader merely cackled and made a sarcastic remark about Kiel’s confidence, but he ignored it. Sara was right, he couldn’t let his scarred face control his life. He needed to prove her expectations of him right. Not only would he hate himself if he didn’t, he would let his sister down while she idolized him.

Kiel found himself up against two wolves, just as he had been when his eye was slashed. It was extremely hard to prevent himself from trembling, the situation being so eerily similar and occurring not even very long after the first one. Deep down, he had to admit that he was afraid, and maybe would be for a long time whenever he faced two adversaries at once, especially if they were wolves.

But that didn’t mean he was going to hold back.

The two wolves bore their fangs and leaped for him, but he hopped out of the way. He moved to his right so his opponents would be on his left and he could see them easily. Kiel didn’t have much experience in using his other senses to find what his right eye used to be able to see, so he did his best to avoid having to do so. He needed more training before he attempted it so many times.

Kiel didn’t simply stand there after he landed, however. It was his turn to leap as he aimed for the leader. The leader hadn’t fully collected himself from his failed attack, so he was tackled to the ground in seconds. Kiel sunk his teeth into the wolf’s shoulder and drove his claws into his chest. The canine yelped in pain immediately, only to allow his hind claws to strike Kiel’s stomach and force the two into a wrestling battle that lasted minutes. That is, until the bandit sent Kiel flying off of him with a swift kick of his paws.

“Aargh!” Kiel blurted as he hit the ground back first. He glanced around as fast as he could, only to see nothing to his left or straight ahead. The enemy knew his weakness, of course they were going to move to his right and stay there.

…No, I have to remember what Sara said! I have other senses. I need to listen for the enemy, with my ears, Kiel thought to himself. He then stood up, but didn’t move. His ears perked, he listened as carefully as he could. Sara’s duel with the other two didn’t make it easy, but soon enough, Kiel could hear the faint paw steps of his opponents closing in on him. Somehow, he could actually tell exactly where they were. When they were mere inches away from him, he quickly ducked and dove to the dirt again. The two enemy wolves, instead of striking their target again, found themselves stumbling over it and landing face first on the ground.

“Kiel! You did it!” Sara cheered, apparently having seen the action even though neither of her opponents were defeated yet.

“I did!” Kiel replied happily. “I really did!”

Without hesitation, Kiel pounced the leader again, this time grasping him by his neck. His fangs sunk deep into the bandit’s flesh, rending him unable to yelp even though he was in pain. Within the next minute, Kiel held a lifeless corpse in his mouth, and tossed it aside like rubbish. The other bandit he faced could only watch stupefied, his eyes wide as he gazed upon Kiel’s blood-stained teeth and claws. Moments later, Sara’s two opponents noticed what had occurred. They gasped when they beheld their leader’s body lying on the ground, blood seeping from his neck and staining the dirt.

It took the three remaining bandits mere seconds to back away slowly and run off.

Kiel and Sara had exhausted themselves battling, and neither spoke for a few moments, even after going back to their human forms.

“See, Kiel? I told you so,” Sara finally said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah…” Kiel agreed through deep breaths. “You sure did. I was wrong. I can still fight like a true warrior with only one eye! I still don’t know if I can be like Queen Nailah someday, but I can sure be the strongest I can be.”

“That’s the spirit! We just need to train some more and you’ll be beating even really powerful foes!”

“Heh, maybe. Oh, but you need some vulneraries! Those guys practically covered you in slash wounds!”

Indeed, Sara had at least a few large cuts on every one of her limbs, and more scrapes on her torso. Some were even still trickling blood.

“Yeah, they definitely weren’t new to combat,” Sara agreed. “And they were bigger than me. I just happened to be a bit faster and was able to match them.”

“Well, I’m relieved that they didn’t hurt you too badly. Let’s get back to the barracks so we can both heal up.”

“Right! And we have to tell the commander what happened. Those bandits might have more friends somewhere.”

“That too. Oh, but Sara…”

“Yeah?”

A smile crossed Kiel’s features before he replied.

“Thank you. I mean it. You really made me come back to my senses. You still believed in me when I thought I had doomed myself. Even when I protested, you didn’t give up. And then you helped me when those hooligans showed up. I might have let them kill me if it wasn’t for you. For that I owe you a lot.”

“Oh, Kiel, I was just doing what any good sister would do for a brother she cares so much for,” Sara replied with a smile. “I always felt lucky to have a big brother like you, you know.”

“Aw, shucks…” Kiel replied bashfully, his cheeks going pink. “Again, thank you.”

“You’re welcome! Shall we go now?”

“Yes, we shall!”

“Alright! Race you!”

Before Kiel could respond, Sara transformed back into a wolf and darted away.

“Aw, hey! I didn’t even say yes yet!” Kiel protested playfully.

He then quickly transformed as well and chased after her.

I’m the one who’s lucky though, really. Lucky to have her for my sister.

Btw, credit for the idea of laguz shamans goes to my co-author. They aren't like typical FE shamans though, they're more like those Native American ones who deal with medicine and healing and such. Cloakweed is my idea though. I had to come up with some way for it to make sense for Sara not to be able to just sniff her brother out. Kiel was trying to run away and hide, after all. And I'm sure some stuff out there could cover up your scent.

Edited April 17, 2015 by Anacybele

[Snowy_One]

Title: Apples

Fandom: Pesudo-historical

Summary: A collection of medical journal entries.

Words: 2424

[spoiler=Apples]

March 10, 1579.

I write this in accordance with the law of our land as a record of medicinal practice. As of ten before the high noon I was summoned to the court in service to the Bathory family of which I was instructed to the wife of the lord, lady Elizabeth. According to her husband his wife had taken ill earlier that week and had stopped to tend to her child before, in a fit of hysteria, threw herself down a flight of stairs in an attempt to commit suicide. While this would normally suggest abuse by his lordship I am inclined to believe his account due to both the identical story amongst all the castle servants as well as the fragile mental state of the young Lady herself. Despite being only fourteen years of age she is of frail sanity and constantly refers to both a daughter that does not exist and calls out the name of a former servant within the castle constantly. She has suffered multiple concussive wounds along her arms, legs, and ribs as well as several profound impacts upon her skull.

However the foremost wound is a dismembered and mangled tongue. Though I know of several medicines and treatments for wounded flesh but none for flesh that has been outright severed. I have ordered a prosthetic wooden tongue to be made as well as prescribed a series of medications including opium to help dull the pain. The tongue will arrive tomorrow and I will install it.

March 11, 1579

As predicted the tongue arrived today in pristine condition and fit Lady Bathory's mouth with ease. However her mental state has degraded vastly since yesterday. In addition to the non-existent daughter and delusions of the old servant she speaks of further insanities such as how the walls are reaching out to grasp her, dragons clawing at her windows, random gibberings, and swings between mania and depression. I fear that this tongue will not aid her as she will no longer be able to taste food, but there is little more that can be done. I will continue to monitor her mental state for the time-being and, should it deteriorate more, increase her opium dosage.

August 15, 1579

Over the past months there has been little to report as Lady Bathory's mental condition has neither improved or degraded. She remains bedbound and continues her insane ramblings. She has resumed eating and adapted to the wooden tongue with speed, but otherwise has remained unchanged. However, there was a major change today in that she started to speak of dark voices whispering into her ears. If this continues I will need to increase her dosages.

August 7, 1579.

It was Lady Balthory's birthday today. However she remained unchanged even as a celebration commenced. Despite turning 15 today she remained in bed. The staff prepared several courses of apple foods, her favorites, only to elicit no reaction from her.

August 20, 1579.

A major breakthrough today. Last night a traveling merchant came to present his ware to the castle and, upon spotting the poor lady, prescribed a treatment of a peculiar oil and ash. Yesterday I was skeptical but, after a quick analysis, determined it was not poison. Upon spotting the man Lady Bathory seemed to calm down and, for the first time these past few months, seemed sane. She was even happy to spend time with this guest and, after checking him for weapons, invited him to dinner. Guards remained posted outside. This morning I came to check up upon her and she was calm, collected, and relaxed.

August 21, 1579.

The improvement in Lady Bathory's condition has remained constant and I will continue to apply this mixture for the time being. The guest has been granted a room within the castle for the remainder of the week. If this condition holds I will relax her medication. With luck she will regain fully stability before long.

August 22, 1579.

Today Lady Bathory sat with the rest of us for dinner and requested several apples for desert. Though she is incapable of tasting them she seemed pleased at the notion of being able to smell and eat them once again.

August 23, 1579.

Disaster today! Lady Bathory was bitten by a rat while in the kitchen seeking to re-establish her figure by eating more food. Sadly the staff was not present and we have brought in a second mouser cat to deal with the vermin. The bite wound appears to be upon her neck implying that the animal either fell or pounced upon her from above. A behavior only seen rarely in rats and the bite looked more similar to that of a cats fang. However, the castle mouser, though lax in his duties, was accounted for by the witness of my lap at the time so I know it was not him. I will watch the wound to ensure it is sterile and, if not, shall apply alcohol vigorously.

August 27, 1579.

Today is a day of great trial for Lady Bathory as our guest leaves the castle. Her condition has improved remarkably ever since his arrival and his absence may prove trying for her. She has already requested an apple pie to be presented to him as a parting gift.

August 28, 1579.

All seems well as Lady Bathory has become relaxed and seems to be, more or less, her normal self. She has requested several apples be sent to her despite her inability to taste them. The memory of the food aids her recovery I suspect. I will be relaxing her opium dosage.

September 7, 1579.

While the Lady Bathory seems to be sane she has requested that various heavy clothes be sent to her. While these clothes are popular in the more western countries they hold little sway here. Maybe our guest was from those lands and she desires a memory of him? It will take several days for the clothes to arrive.

September 8, 1579.

One of the castle servants was fired today, a young scullery maid who, apparently, splashed Lady Balthory with hot washwater thrown out of the window which struck her below. I examined the burn on her arm and it was cosmetic in nature and not life-threatening. She will recover with a good nights rest.

December 15, 1579.

The Lady Balthory's recovery seems complete. She no longer rambles about dark things, her body is healed, and I took her off the final drug a week ago. While she has changed her style of clothes drastically and now holds a prosthetic tongue, her psyche seems to be handling it acceptably. Her mental health is still not of the highest quality but I know nothing more to prescribe. Hopefully, as time passes, she will re-establish herself firmly.

August 18: 1592.

I have gathered together this collection of medical notes in the hope of forming a viable record of Lady Balthory's mental health. While I had believed her condition to be mostly cured in 1579 I have noticed several strange things happening within the castle. The Lady Balthory insists upon tables being fully set for dinner at all times, especially with copious amounts of apples. Despite this she is only rarely at the table and rarely eats. One of the servants noted that, at times, small piles of ash can be found within the dining hall as well. Lady Balthory, while remaining loyal to her husband, still speaks of the former servants name when alone according to some servants. She is dressed in the western fashions at all times as well and only rarely leaves her room during the daylight hours.

I suspect her mental health was not cured as well as I had originally thought. I have held no need to attend to her side and she had appeared to be of firm mind since the incident. I will start to pay attention to these coincidences and see if I can find any connective issues with them.

July 7, 1593.

The war that started this year between Transylvania, Wallachia, and the Ottoman Empire has finally reached our doorstep. Already they speak of a terrifying man of questionable sanity appointed by the pope that has held off the Ottoman's so-far, but there are always some who break through. Of note a small squad broke through and abducted several women in a raid upon one of the outlying villages. Formally Lady Balthory, despite her immense education, has not been a diplomat, especially in the case of abductions, but last night she interceded. I remember watching her approach the surrounded raiders at night, then the rest is a hazy dream. This morning I was informed that Lady Balthory had negotiated the freedom of the women in return for the freedom to return home. She has invited the women to stay within the castle to recover and offered them copious amounts of food. Maybe she is hoping to prevent the same insanity that happened to her?

Something does not seem right about this.

July 10, 1593.

According to Lady Balthory all of the women were allowed to return home today, sane of mind. I decided to investigate as Lady Balthory is not a medical doctor and desired to check their state of health but could not find any of the women. I will inquire more.

July 11, 1593.

According to one of the serving staff the ladies were never allowed to return home nor desired to.

July 12, 1593.

The servant who informed me of the failure of the women to depart last night was discovered to possess delirium and proceeded to call me a chicken. I have prescribed opium but am uncertain of if I should discard their testimony or not.

February 24, 1594.

Over the past week a similar situation occurred once again, down to the very same method. Women were captured and held hostage only to be taken in by Lady Balthory, fed large amounts of apples, then released several days later only for their husbands to claim that they had not returned home. Additionally this man appointed by the Pope to defend against the Ottomans, Vlad the Impaler, is violent and destructive yet Lady Balthory seems to admire him immensely.

April 3, 1594.

An identical incident happened today but, unlike before, I had an appointment to tend to a servant who dropped a hammer on their foot this evening and, afterwards, snuck close to the dining chamber. The women were inside and, as I peered through the keyhole, Lady Balthory addressed them and instructed them to eat the apples. At first they agreed, happy for a meal, only to cease upon eating a modest amount. I believed that this would be the end of the matter but Lady Balthory insisted that they eat more. At first the women declined but then Lady Balthory repeated her request while leaning in and, to my surprised, they agreed and began to engorge themselves. Far more than would be needed to fill the belly of a starved man. Then she beckoned to one of the women and proceeded to kiss her upon the neck! I fear my lady may be a lesbian and hiding women she finds pleasing away from the public eye. I will see if I can investigate more tomorrow.

April 5, 1594.

I was wrong. So very wrong. This will be my final entry upon this matter as I will be submitting this collection of entries to the local priest. Last night I happened to find a drunken guard and, upon striking his leg with a shaft of lumber and introducing a few medications, brought him into the castle under the guise of needing to treat him. Once inside I made my way to Lady Balthory's chambers hoping to catch her in unholy sexual acts. What I found was infinitely more disturbing.

Inside the three women from the prior night stood before her bed, as if puppets on a string, limp and unmoving, unemotional, along with a servant girl. Lady Balthory first took an apple that the girl had brought her and raised it up to her mouth as to eat only, to my horror, watch it turn to ash as it neared her mouth as if her very breath was decay and rot. She then held up the crumbling apple to one of the women and talked to her like a dog, telling her how lucky she was to be able to taste such things and how delighted she should be. I expected the woman to resist only to watch her respond in a dull, lifeless, tone before Lady Balthory rammed the apple down her throat! Lady Balthory then proceeded to bite the woman firmly on the neck, in the same position as I found the rat bites earlier in her life, before pulling the woman's clothes off so that the blood would not absorb into it and pushing her forwards so that her blood flowed into a goblet which she then drank from. As she did so she remarked and reminisced about how she remembered the taste but, no matter how much blood she drank, she could not taste the apple again. She then scolded the woman for 'not being good enough' and instructed her over to a bath in the corner.

Then she told the servant girl to fetch a knife and outright slit the throat of the woman, letting the blood flow out into the bath before instructing her to do the same to the other two women until a full bath had been drawn which she then entered claiming that, if she could no longer taste, she would bath in the blood of those who could and let the blood restore her health and make her beautiful once more.

I wish I had spotted the signs sooner. Ever since the incident I had not seen her eat, I had not thought it important at the time. I did not think to follow up on the comings and goings of servants and guests in the castle but, if my belief is correct, this has been going on for over a decade. Lady Balthory is either a vampire or believes herself so strongly to be one as to commit such acts as if possessed by the devil himself. I know of no such medication and know only God can save me now. I shall quietly leave the city after submitting these records. Please, should I not be found, pray my soul goes unto the Lord.

Much of this actually holds historical roots and, sadly, far too much of it is true. While there have been modifications made for the purposes of this story I hope that what I have written fits in the confines of the outline.

Edited April 18, 2015 by Snowy_One

[Dragoncat]

I remember watching something about the lady Snowy wrote about on the history channel! It was a show that explored the vampire myth and gave examples of real life people who inspired it, her being one of them...don't recall her having a wooden tongue though, but that's probably something that was made up/added, right?

We've got some good ones this time :)

[Snowy_One]

I remember watching something about the lady Snowy wrote about on the history channel! It was a show that explored the vampire myth and gave examples of real life people who inspired it, her being one of them...don't recall her having a wooden tongue though, but that's probably something that was made up/added, right?

We've got some good ones this time :)

It was added and, not only do I think it fits nicely (her craze for blood being driven by the fact that she can no longer taste anything) but being in shattered mental health, drugged out of her mind (fun fact: Opium could be found in childrens cough syrup at the turn of the 20th century), and outright bloodthirsty should be more than enough to make up for it.

[Dual Dragons]

So I'll never be happy with what I wrote in its conclusion and I've gone over it for editing, so I think I'll drop it here.

Title: Lenora the Little Knight
Fandom: None
Summary: Following the story of a woman whose only dream was to become a royal knight
Words: 6905

Hailing from a long lineage of proud knights, Lenora came into this world with conviction in her eyes. Her parents always said that since learning of her ancestors’ stories of valor, she never was seen without her training swords. Her schedule was simple: train, eat, train, eat, sleep. She craved the life her ancestors had in their orally passed-down tales—unlike the way her parents lived.

They too had been knights in their youthful days and they ofttimes played out their adventures, complete with dramatic voices and acting. Her dad would invite her to play parts as well. But always at the end Lenora would ask, “Why did you give up that life?” and her parents would respond, “It was a dangerous life.”

Lenora would say, “I know that!”

After her family got their fill of adventure, they settled down on the country plains to raise their tiny farm and child. Though tiny, her parents held their farm in highest regard because it was something they worked on for years to provide such strong and mighty trees, delicious fruits and vegetables, and herbs for their kind neighbors. Lenora would remember the times that people would come to her parents’ farm to buy their produce in large bulk. They never starved.
Her parents’ proofs of knighthood hung on the walls of their abode gathering slight dust. Lenora used to brush her fingers over the slash marks, the grooves of their equipment, the residual blood left lazily to dry after many exhausting battles back-to-back. These proofs spelled glory.

“This is the life I want.”

A plague wiped out a majority of Lenora’s village fourteen summers in her life. She too had been stricken with the violent chills and feverish sweat. The battle within her was arduous, lasting two weeks. Those young and healthy survived the ordeal. Lenora’s parents died within a week. She buried them with most of their knighthood proofs, sold off their farming equipment, and used the money to support her three-week journey to the town of her king and queen.

Their blind son, the sole heir to the Haversham throne, strolled in front of a parade the day Lenora arrived. He looked around her age. Despite the disability, the prince walked as though everything was clearly there in front of him. He had little trouble shaking the hands of his subjects and smiling to the small children who tugged on his trousers. The knights behind him would only get an inch of their blades out before he stopped them. Some others were collecting coin and passing out flyers to the commoners who wished to see their prince.

Lenora shook off the small tension in her tired legs to fast approach the prince. The knights were about ready to turn their blade on her.

“Please,” the prince said. “I know my life is precious, but you don’t need to show the blade to anyone who approaches. You’ll frighten the children.”

“My prince, it’s someone we don’t recognize,” said one of his knights.

The prince shifted in the direction of pounding on cobblestone.

Lenora stopped in front of them, panting slightly. She took a few moments to compose herself before speaking. “Greetings, my prince.”

The prince smiled. “Hello. I don’t recognize this voice. Who may you be?”

“I’m Lenora of Gwendall.”

“The country village of Gwendall? That is a bit of ways away. What brings you here? Matters with the royal family?”

“You could say as such--”

“Prince Myron,” spoke up one of the prince’s guard. “Gwendall recently got struck with the plague. She could be infected. There have been rumors that the other city-states are starting to get infected as well.”

“Infected, you say? Does she ail?”

“We see no signs of the sweat, chills, or fever.”

“I beg your pardon, my prince,” said Lenora, “but most of my village’s people died in the plague three weeks prior. The walk from Gwendall to Haversham takes about three weeks on foot.”

“Three weeks! I knew Gwendall was far, but not this far.”

“I was stricken with the plague myself. I was bedridden for two weeks. In that time, my parents passed away.”

“It pains me to hear this.”

“Thank you for your kindness, my prince.”

“But you choose not to stay with your village?”

“The life of a farmer never satisfied me. You see, my family has a history of serving Haversham’s royal family as knights. My parents, their parents, my parents’ grandparents, going as far back as serving your ancestor 500 years ago. My parents served your parents—so I was told.”

“Do you carry proof of what you say is true?”

Lenora was about to hand the prince her family’s scroll and knighthood proof but a knight took them from her.

He scanned over the scroll’s contents and pointed to a corner of the page. “There, my prince. There is a sigil of the royal family. And this here proof carries the same sigil.”

“And so she speaks truth. But Lenora, you could have visited the lord of Stratbury, which I would think is a two-day’s walk from Gwendall. With this evidence, though it would take some time to confirm with the Haversham royal family, you could have had a position in a place not too far from your village.”

“With all due respect, my prince, I could not subject myself to any lower position.” Lenora drew on a smile close to a smirk. “Being a knight of the Harversham royal family has been my one sole wish. Nothing else. I’ve raised myself to fulfill my dream because I know it is the one thing that will make me happy.”

“But so far away from your family?”

“We’re spread across the lands. The closest to me after my parents, my grandmother, would take months across mountains—and, though I say she is the closest, the number of times I’ve seen her can be counted on one hand.”

“I see.” Prince Myron scratched his chin. “Unfortunately, you cannot become a knight immediately. The royal family requires that you train under the royal guard for a few years.”

“But I can become a knight?”

He smiled. “Indeed you can. With what you have told me, I suspect you would have no qualms about staying here and undergoing rigorous training. The royal guard is rigorous, truly. Brutish at times. They will not hesitate to pin a woman to the ground. If you so clamor for this knighthood…”

Lenora clapped her hands, startling the prince. “Many thanks to you, my prince! I will do my best! This is all that I ever wished for!” She tried to release all her excitement in her deep breathing but it was nigh impossible. “Though I think it best that you worry not about me but for your knights. Can they handle the wily charms of a woman that has the strength of a blacksmith and the swiftness of a snake? They may look upon me and think me weak, but I come with experience of killing.”

“Do you?”

She laughed. “I do. The blood of chickens and cattle are on my hands. I’ve hunted foxes and deer from the forest nearby.”

Prince Myron chuckled. “If you count the animals then even I have experience of killing—though not on par with your skills. I have such mastery of killing bugs. Perhaps you could train me in your ways.”

“Certainly, my prince!”


For four summers since, Lenora trained with the other pages and squires. As expected, they thought her weak not because she was inexperienced but that she was small. Prince Myron was surprised. The day he accidentally bumped into her while both were rushing to their duties, for all the bravado she spouted to the pages and squires, Lenora barely came up to his chest. From the reports from the trainers of her knocking down many a sparring partner, Lenora was competent—so how could she be so short?

It was then on that Prince Myron referred to her as “Little Knight” in secret. Lenora at first didn’t like this. Without thinking she said, “And you’re the Shadow Prince!”He asked, not sounding hurt, what she meant by that: by the fact he was blind or something else. “I’ve heard from my peers that when you can you sneak into the yards to hear us train. Always in the shadows, Prince Myron is.” She tried to retract this later but Prince Myron said he preferred this rather than the formalities.

And so came to be their nicknames for each other.


Lenora stood somber as she received her first mission as a knight.

For the past two summers, Haversham and its allies had been at war with Nordis and Stratbury, two powerful city-states who got tired of Haversham’s power. It did not help matters when Prince Myron denied Nordis and Stratbury’s noblewomen his hand in marriage for reasons he would not give. The king and queen wouldn’t have allowed it even if he did want to marry a Nordis or Stratbury woman. “They were always jealous of Haversham’s power. Myron marrying either city-state would raise them and lower us. We cannot allow such a thing in their current plotting.”

The royal tacticians stated that it would be likely that Nordis and Stratbury would kidnap Prince Myron and force him into marriage. It was time that Prince Myron be sent away to a safer location until the war settled.

Many knights and soldiers died in the war. Lenora and a small group of freshly-knighted people were the last ones the king and queen could send on this dangerous mission. They were debriefed that halfway along the road to one of their ally nations is a group who will lend them support. Until then, last five days on foot and make sure Prince Myron is unharmed.

With a final nod, Lenora, Prince Myron, and the group departed Haversham. Knights surrounded Prince Myron in a circular barricade. Lenora was not invited, having been asked by a knight to scout for she was too small to provide much to the barricade. It was not exactly the job Lenora wanted but she made no effort to complain. It still contributed to the guarding of Prince Myron—and she was finally now a true knight, just as she wanted. Muffled by sobriety, Lenora was happy deep inside.


The first night was rolling by in their small camp when a knight went up to Lenora. “Prince Myron requests for your presence.”

Lenora left the knight only to see the prince shaking where he sat. He turned in her general direction.

“You asked for me, my prince?”

He nodded weakly. “Please seat yourself next to me.”

Lenora did as she was told. “My prince…?”

“Shadow Prince, Little Knight.” Usually he spoke in a jovial manner, but all humor was drained from him.

“Shadow Prince, you called for me?”

“Indeed.” He gulped and did not say a word for a minute. “I’ve pondered over whether what I’m about to say should be said aloud. It would paint Haversham in a dark light. It is strange. In short time, I’ve come to rely on you the most to keep me happy. And yet, you were not a knight until now.”

“Why would that be?”

“Perhaps because you sounded strong and proud. Though you are not the strongest—“

“Hey.”

He laughed. “Let me finish. Though you are not the strongest, you could still play yourself off as though you were a strong, independent woman. It is more than I can say for myself.”

“How do you mean?”

“The prince is supposed to be the future ruler of a country. Do you agree with this? A prince should be able to control himself and his people. Should he show a strand of weakness, should he be unreliable, the people’s loyalty will waver; and, in due time, revolt and civil war break out. But I… I am blind. I have been blind since my birth. It has presented many problems to my family, to my country, and in foreign affairs.

“For example: a prince should have some skill in combat. Tutors tried to teach me fighting, yet I couldn’t learn fast enough and the blindness made it much harder. Eventually my parents stopped the practice and had me learn only politics, foreign affairs, history, and the like.”

“Did you not protest?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Did you not protest that you would like to continue practicing in combat? It would have been hard at first, but I’m certain you would have adapted soon enough. You could have been the best blind fighter in history.”

Prince Myron shook his head. “That is like you, Little Knight. To be so confident. But even you must admit that it would have been impossible for you.”

“I would keep trying. You know why.”

“Yes. I know why. Forgive me. I am complaining. I’ve always relied on others.”

Prince Myron took a deep breath. “It is not just Nordis and Stratbury that want Haversham to collapse. The tension between us and them has been there for a very long time. Perhaps you didn’t know because you were in Gwendall for all your life, but many more city-states and countries want Haversham to fall. We are not a militant country. We pride ourselves in commerce and knowledge. It is only because of our expert knowledge in commerce and trade that we even have colonies. And those colonies could be the other city-states’ reward for defeating us.

“We survived this long because we were at first amicable to the other states. Haversham had little taxation on their goods, and we were agreeable to a deal. The hike in prices all started with King Jadon, when he felt that Haversham deserved to be just as successful as the other city-states. The others needed our raw goods. Why were we not as powerful as them? They needed us.

“And so when those prices increased, the other city-states began to resent us. It has only boiled up until now. I will not say that they are right or we are right—only that I think this was inevitable. My denying the hands of two of the most powerful city-states’ noblewomen and royalty only tipped over the boiling pot.”

“What was your reason to deny their hands? You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you? So why, Shadow Prince?”

Prince Myron smiled a faint one. “I knew—but I made the wrong judgment. I relied on the king and queen’s feelings towards Nordis and Stratbury, and I relied on my feelings. Let us say that I wished that someone was born a noblewoman or into royalty. I would have married her even if she was from Nordis or Stratbury. But as you can see, even if I make my own choices, I have failed everyone. Haversham will fall. What do you think of that?”

“Haversham may fall but you still live. You will be the last remnant of a fallen country that I grew to love from my family’s stories. Nothing has changed.”

“I see. Then you are dismissed. Please get good rest.”


On the third night, Prince Myron called for Lenora.

“This may be the information that will turn your love for Haversham into hatred.”

“My prince?”

“The day of the parade. Do you remember?”

“Yes. It was the day that I arrived, after all.”

“It was a parade that the king and queen formed to gather coin from the people. This money would fund the war that we knew we would be involved in. They had asked me to serve as a way to gather money.”

“But that day you said I should have gone to Stratbury instead.”

“I knew Haversham would fall no matter how many knights we had. It would have been best that I keep someone alive even if they ended up being an enemy. I have contributed to the deaths of many of my fellow people.”

“Is that all, my prince?”

“No. This is the final piece of information.” Prince Myron placed a hand on his chest, his voice strained. He tried to cough out his anxiety. “The plague was another thing that many hated Haversham for.”

“It is not Haversham’s fault that the gods frown upon the other city-states.”

“On the contrary, Little Knight, it is Haversham’s fault for letting others die.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The knights were prepared for any assassins and traitors, even the children. After the parade the knights were especially wary of you, you who were from Gwendall. At the time it wasn’t known to the people that those who survive the plague are immune afterwards. Have you not noticed that the plague has not reached Haversham?”

“I thought it the favor of the gods.”

“Nay… Once the plague began and Haversham looked into the matter, we had discovered something that would keep Haversham protected from it. And deliberately did not sell it to the other city-states.”

Lenora widened her eyes.

“Perhaps you would know.”

“I don’t.”

“Very well then. It was not uncommon for Haversham’s royal family to give plots of land for retiring knights. Haversham had no qualms—in exchange for trade on certain produce.”

“You don’t mean to say…”

“I do, Little Knight. Your family as well as any retiring knight sold this one fruit to the Haversham royal family, and we made sure the people ate and drank it every day to keep them alive from the plague and attributed our immunity to the gods’ favor. We had a monopoly on the seeds and fruit. Eventually, the other nations caught wind that Haversham had not been stricken by the plague. Spies were sent and the truth came to them. They asked for trade for the fruit, and the Haversham royal family denied them trade. The rest, you know.”

Lenora frowned.

“What do you think now?”

“I think I will keep on protecting the Haversham royal family.”

“Because it is the one thing that makes you happy?”

“Yes. I’ve never thought of anything else that could make me happy. Being a Haversham royal knight is the only thing I ever wished for, and I didn’t think it much to ask the gods. I don’t know if anything could change that.”

“Then I thank you, Lenora of Gwendall, my Little Knight. It is a pleasure to know that I will have a knight who will stay by my side despite tumultuous times.”

“Yes, my prince.”


On the fifth day, the day Prince Myron was supposed to meet the allied nation group, a messenger on horse from Haversham came to them. Haversham had fallen. The king and queen were executed on the spot. With no other claimed heirs, Prince Myron was the last of the Haversham royal line.

When the messenger took his leave, Prince Myron asked for quick council and called Lenora.

“The Haversham royal family is dead, as you have heard. Despite the fact I am wanted and I would have no title, you would stand by me as my knight?”

“Yes, my prince. No matter how many times you try to sway my judgment, I will protect you.”

Prince Myron frowned but did not speak further.


At noon, Lenora was scouting like the days before. Prince Myron and the knights were far behind.

She saw a group of people on the road and rushed towards them though kept herself alert.

Lenora spoke softly to one of them. “Do the winds blow through the pinecones at night?”

“Aye, and do they rustle like foxes hiding in the bushes.”

“The foxes, do they speak to you in a woman’s tongue?”

“She tried to seduce me, she did, but I knew she was a fox when she stuck a foxtail in her hair.”

“You are the men we are seeking.”

“Aye. How do you do, Haversham knight?”

“The prince is exhausted. We have been walking without food and drink since yesterday. We require food and drink, if you would be so kind.”

“Aye. We have some prepared already.”

Lenora glanced at each of the men. They sweated, but Lenora watched as a couple of them shook despite there was not a chill in the wind.

“Here you are, lady-knight,” said one of them presenting her food. Lenora caught a whiff of his breath; he smelled rancid—a dying man.

Lenora drew her blade and yelled, “My fellow men, halt! These men are no allies of ours. They are infected!”

She could hear the distant footsteps of her comrades.

“No! What are you doing? Run!”

There were six men against Lenora. She dared not take her attention away from them. The clashing of steel against steel rang in the air as she deflected blow after blow. Try as she might, she could not get an attack in safely, even when she had her shield up. She would parry but could not hit. In return, the men were not getting many attacks on her.

But soon enough her helmet was pulled off by a man who snuck his way around her. Lenora was startled and turned around, only to get met with a blade across the eyes. She screamed as her eyes did in intense pain. Blood squirted out and flowed down her face. Her hands instinctively tried to stop the blood and wipe it away in hopes to see again; but, no matter how much effort they tried, Lenora was not seeing anything.

A man kicked her to the ground and pinned her with his foot. He raised a blade high in the air, about to plunge it into her neck. Lenora readied herself for the fate. She was somewhat confused as she felt warmth splatter across her face but realized when the man’s weight was off and an arm reached out for hers.

Haversham knights cut through the men like ribbons—but not without incurring injuries themselves. The men’s blood mingled with their blood.

“Lenora!” Prince Myron ran his way onto the scene after all the fighting was done. He tripped over a man’s body and fell face first into some blood.

“My prince!” Lenora screamed at the knights, “Pick him up and clean him! This air is rancid. If he has fallen onto some blood, clean him immediately.”

A knight’s voice shook. “Lenora, we don’t know the nearest water source.”

“No, no, no.” Lenora tried to think. “The grass is green and there are mosquitoes about. There must be a water source nearby for them to thrive and breed. Someone scout out the area. Hurry! Do not let the prince fall ill!”

All the knights scattered. Lenora tried to feel her way towards Prince Myron, who kept calling out to her.

Though her eyes still cried in pain, she tried to remain calm. “I’m right here, my prince. Fear not. I will not leave you. Shush, shush.”

When she finally reached Prince Myron, he felt for her face. “Lenora, is this your blood?”
“No, this is one of the men’s.”

“But this cut…” His fingers went across her face; but, once he was about to touch her eyes, she placed her hand over his. “Lenora, you…”

Her smile was grim. “Let us talk later. You need to get cleaned up.”
--------------------------
The knights were tending to Prince Myron. Lenora placed her hand in front of her face. She saw nothing. She heard the birds in the trees, the water splashing, the knights talking amongst themselves, but she could not see where they were.

“Is this what the prince sees every day? But he is lucky. He never saw the world in front of him. I have eaten the world through my eyes—and now I see naught. And naught does not help a knight.”
--------------------------------

“I will not leave Lenora behind.”

“Prince Myron, she is now a burden. A knight must never be a burden to the master they serve.”

“Would you abandon me, despite me being a burden?”

“But you are who we serve. Lenora is not.”

“No matter. You are my knights, and knights must follow orders. You will follow mine. Lenora comes. That is my order.”
-------------------------------------

By the arm, a knight had Lenora start following the group to the nearby neutral town of Mardook. Around the time Gwendall was stricken with the plague, Mardook was as well. Its population consisted of those who survived.

It was barely over a day when the knights except Lenora were starting to fall ill. They had run out of their small supply of the fruit days ago, as the ally nation they were supposed to harbor the prince in was one of the city-states that had gotten through the plague. The lack of proper rest hit them harder; and, soon enough, a couple were too weak to carry themselves. While none wanted to be left behind, those that got afflicted forced themselves to stay put for the good of the prince. Gradually the group dwindled in numbers on the road to Mardook.

Two knights, Lenora, and Prince Myron reached the town. The two knights did the negotiations at the taverns and inns, making sure to withhold information about Haversham and Prince Myron’s identity. If there was anything Lenora could thank them for at this moment was their excellent mastery over words. They snatched a couple rooms and rested for the day.


Lenora was woken up by the knights who were frantic. “He has fallen ill!”

The knights led her over to their quarters and was put next to the bed. She could hear the prince’s short, quick breaths. Her hand found its way to his forehead.

“He’s just starting to get sick,” she said, trying to be calm. “My prince, please, you must be quiet.”

He grunted and then slowed down his breathing.

“My prince, would there happen to be those fruits you mentioned growing in this area?”

His voice was weak. “I remember hearing that there is a farm growing them. It’s about two days on foot from here.”

Lenora turned towards where she thought the knights were. “How shall we do this?”

“One of us may need to go alone. You are blind, and we cannot risk an attack while things are unstable regarding the prince.”

“Whoever is the quickest should go. Let’s pool our coins together. Who is the one quickest here?—Stick out your hand. I’m giving you my purse. There. Now buy as many as you can.”

“Lenora, that would be all for naught,” Prince Myron said.

“Why would that be?”

“They would need authentication to sell those to anyone not of Haversham royalty. As is, we have no authentication without my being there—and I cannot move.”

“Curses! So we are to sit and wait until you may die?! You cannot ask us that.”

“Quiet yourself, Lenora. I shall rest as much as I can. That is all I can do for now.”


“The curs!” Lenora huffed about in the room, hesitant in step before she crashed into more walls. She tried to lower her voice. With each word she spoke, her anger rose until one thought she was about to fulminate from how red she was. “They left overnight. How dare they betray their master. Such cravens!”

Prince Myron coughed while attempting to smile. “How fortunate for me. I get to have the company of a noble lady. I’m actually quite happy. Now I don’t have to share.”

“My prince, be serious! Are you not scornful towards them? Do you hold no bitterness? They don’t know what it means to be a knight.”

“I think them scared and concerned with themselves.”

“Selfishness!”

“I do not blame them. I reek of death.”

“Say no such words, my prince. You will not die. I will make certain of that.”

“How?”

“I… I’m right here. You will not die because I’m here. And you’re here. So I will be fine. We will be fine.”

Prince Myron’s smile fell. “Lenora, it does not bode well for me. The illness has only gotten worse. I suspect I will not be living for much longer. What do you plan to do when I go?”

“There is no ‘when.’ You will be fine.”

“Let me rephrase then: what do you plan to do if I die? You must have something, Little Knight. You must have planned—“

“No!” Lenora pounded the bed. “Speak no more! You will live, my prince. You will be alive and healthy and have children. Those children will have children, and they will too, and I will protect them all. That is what I planned for my life: to serve the Haversham royal line until the day I die. You mustn’t cast me out when you haven’t died yet.”

Prince Myron took a deep breath and released it. There was a moment before he spoke. “Little Knight, you were always a good person—no, a good friend to me. You were about the closest person I had that ever bothered to speak to me so plainly. As one friend to another, I have to prepare you for these things. I feel like I know you enough to say this: you can’t rely on me anymore.”

Lenora shook. “I don’t understand. Why are you speaking like that? Why do you sound so defeated?”

“I know my limits. I could never sound tough when I wasn’t. I speak of these things because I realized you would be left alone, and it pains me that you will be left behind despite what I want. The best I can do for you now is preparing you for what may come.”

“‘What may come’ yes! That’s why I ask why you sound defeated. You can’t give up when it’s not certain.”

Prince Myron gave a sigh. “If you can’t figure out now, then at least figure out when—if it does happen. Little Knight, please extend your hand. Don’t huff at me so; just do it. Right now, I am not saying I will die but this is coin just in case. Hold onto it for me. It may give you a sizeable plot of land or you can invest in apprenticeship or whatever have you.”

“I cannot keep this.”

“Think of it as a bet, then. If I am alive, I keep the money. If I die, you keep the money.”

“Are you determined to keep your money?”

He did not answer.


Two days passed and Prince Myron’s state was not better. His eyes were sunken and his cough fierce. Lenora was fighting a mighty battle dabbing Prince Myron’s sweating forehead and keeping his bed and pillows as clean as possible. Her body told her to flee from the reek but she held herself steadfast.

“I’ve been thinking, Little Knight.”

“Of what, my prince?”

“It is a petty thing but something that has bothered me.”

Lenora stopped dabbing his forehead.

“I don’t think I’ve once heard you say my name.”

She laughed. “But of course. It would be improper for a knight to call her prince by his name.”

“Even with the title?”

“Well…”

“Lenora.”

“I think it best I leave you to rest now. All this energy in talking will only have the illness stay. Good night, my prince!”


Like the days before, Lenora came into the prince’s room with a plate of food, making the effort to smile despite the offensive odor. “Rise and shine, my prince! A new day to make the sickness go away!”

No response.

“I know I said for you to rest, but you have to eat too. Come on. Wake, wake!”

Lenora set the food on the bed and felt her way for the prince’s forehead. She frowned. A chill went through her hand.

“My prince?” Lenora threw the sheets off. She frantically felt around for where his heart should be. All she touched was cold. “Wake up, you trickster! This isn’t funny!” When she distinguished what must have been the left chest, she propped the body up and placed her ear hard against him.

She let the body fall as she dropped to her knees on the floor. Lenora stayed kneeled for a few moments, feeling her heart slow and her stomach drop. Then, out of nowhere, the tears gushed from her eyes. Lenora stifled her cries into the mattress.


Lenora and the innkeeper stuck their shovels into the ground. A small marker—just a plank of wood—jutted out from a bed of soil. The sun beat down on them. They sweated in its intensity, but Lenora did not seem to register it.

“It is a small grave for someone like him, but it will have to do.”

The innkeeper nodded. “It is small, yet at least he had someone to care for him.” He turned to her. “I am very sorry for your loss.”

“You have my gratitude. I was prepared to dig the grave all by myself.”

“Let a blind lady dig a grave all by herself? That would be black-hearted of me. Think nothing of it. But now what will you do? It seems all your friends left you.”

“I don’t know. I would have never thought my life would come to this.”

“I know it must have been very sudden.” The innkeeper patted her shoulder, then backed off when she responded as though to break his arm. “Hold! Very sorry. It is what my family does to reassure each other.”

“No. My apologies. It is reactionary, only worsened ten-fold by my recent blindness.”

“Aye. That must be rough as well. And you said that you had no family nearby?”

“That is correct. I am not even aware of the state of things with my family.”

“That is rough, that is rough.” The innkeeper then smiled. “I’m sure you can find a job here, lady-knight. Mardook is still recovering from the plague, and people are still wary to come in the case the plague still thrives. But you, you said you survived the plague. You can work here—even at the inn or the tavern nearby. It would take you some time to adjust, that it would, but you would have something to do. How about it, lady-knight?”

Lenora stayed still while frowning. “I’m not sure—“

“Don’t you worry. I will give you all the time in the world to adjust. We’re desperate for working hands.”

“But my knighthood—“

“I’ll tell you what: you can still keep training in your knightly ways on your off-time. Come on, lady-knight. I’m practically begging at this rate!”

Lenora turned towards the source of the innkeeper’s voice. Her head dipped as she thought, and then she straightened it. “It will have to do. Alright. Let’s get to work.”


At the beginning, Lenora kept stumbling and tripping over the inn’s tables, chairs, and counters. Few people were worried. In whispers, under Lenora’s nose, they would speak to each other: “She’s a blind one, she is. I don’t care a lick for ‘em. They must have incurred wrath from the gods.” “But the prince of Haversham?” “That boy’s descended from a god, ain’t he? Even if you don’t like ‘im, you can’t show much of it. You’d incur the wrath of the gods and be stricken blind yerself!”

Lenora tried to ignore them. She would have liked to speak her mind to them but she knew it would cause trouble for the kind innkeeper, and she knew how to be grateful to the people she owed. Her body was bruised from the crashes into objects and walls and her pride was bruised from the whispering people.

After working hours, Lenora would walk out to the back of the inn to practice in the open field. Here she was free to use her sword as her detector of objects—otherwise scaring people at the inn. When she found herself upon a tree, she would start to hack away. Her swings were hesitant at first and would gain confidence over time; but, Lenora oftentimes missed her target and tripped when slashing the air. It was very frustrating. The confidence she used to have in every swing, in every step, in every action she took was now always preceded with hesitance. Without the ability to judge her distance, she could hit too far into the tree, risking the possibility of having her sword stuck. If that happened, another trip.

All these blunders and thoughts of her prince’s imagined last days of living. Her strength wavered. And when her imagination went rampant about how the prince may have suffered, at the end of training sessions, she sometimes broke down and cried. “My prince, why did you leave me? When you were here, though I was blind, I was able to get through just knowing I was still protecting you. Now you’re gone and I have nothing. Even if I were to become a knight again, I’ll never be a Haversham knight again.”


Throughout the years, Lenora tried her hand again and again at knight training but she could never reach to the skill she had prior. Her blindness was the first hurdle; what followed were the images of her prince’s dead face and the realization that her dream would never come to be. Some people staying at the inn, wanting a conversation with her, would ask her if she had some aspiration that she was striving for. “After all,” they would say, “you don’t look particularly happy working at the inn. We just assumed that you had something you were working towards while being a working hand at the inn.”

But the reply always was: “My dream was with another person. They are gone, and so my dream is gone.”

She drew worried looks from the people she spoke to. True, she was a good working hand at the inn, but her dutifulness and loyalty seemed ill-used. She was such a young woman; though her life’s dream could never come to fruition, surely she could find something else she could be happy with, even if minor. But the response to that was another shake of the head.

Lenora turned down all of the few suitors that could overcome her blindness. The way she brushed them off, it seemed that it was a gesture of saying that there was nothing wrong with the suitors but that Lenora was either afraid or unwilling to accept anyone else in her life in that way.

Eventually, the innkeeper passed away from health complications and the inn was shut down. Due to her blindness and her lack of proper skills, Lenora was denied jobs in many places—all except as a farm hand for an older couple. Lenora had gotten better with her navigation skills; with her former knowledge of farming, all that it took now was for them to show her where to go and have some patience. For a while, Lenora still tried to do knight training in her spare time, usually when she was supposed to be sleeping; however, time passed, she grew older, she needed more sleep, and the images of her prince still haunted her in her old age. The armor and the sword now gathered dust.

The older couple was unable to bear children and they grew to like Lenora. When they passed away, Lenora inherited the farm.

She grew into a habit of tending to the farm, drinking at the tavern, sleeping, and repeating on the daily. Her social life was at the tavern, where sometimes the people wondered why she never amounted to anything spectacular—or why she did not attempt to.

One day, Lenora sat on a tree stump after all work was done. A gentle breeze went through her hair with gray strands. Few people came to the farm, so she had a lot of time to think. Most thoughts, however, wandered back to those joyful days of her knighthood training, Prince Myron, and her parents’ knighthood stories that used to fill her with so much wonder and dreams. She frowned—or, perhaps, she still kept frowning; there were brief moments where she smiled, most times forced.

“My prince,” Lenora said with head tilted towards the sky. “Are you happy with the gods? Do they tell you of how I’m doing without you? Do you hold regrets of leaving me? I think every day of how our lives would have been better if all went according to plan. You would have yourself another devoted knight, and I would have a fulfilled dream. It was all I ever wanted—and once you died, I could never have it. Life isn’t fair, is it? Not much could be changed or done once it happened. Some people say when they think I’m not listening that I seemed to make myself sad for the sake of being sad. I never could understand what that meant. Perhaps you might know. I feel ever closer to death. My bones ache, the people say my hair’s getting gray, and I am sluggish. Despite all the training I did, I never prepared myself for this, did I? I never expected my life to end up this way. Anyways, I think I’ll be seeing you sometime soon. Please wait patiently until then, my prince. If the gods are ever so kind, I may get to be your knight again in the afterlife. You and I could be happy again!”

This has undergone quite a few changes. The ending changed from what I originally planned where it probably was going to end halfway in. And even this ending I'm not satisfied with but I would take months to refine it. I'm that particular about word choice and execution.

With this story, I wanted to show Lenora as a romanticized, ideal knight that one might hear in fairy tales. Despite what the text may say at times, I hoped to get across that what she does isn't exactly healthy. Definitely not something I would condone.

With that in mind, I'll wait to explain anything until someone asks. It might prove that I messed up somewhere and can keep it in mind for other writings.

Edit: I thought I fixed all the tabs that were originally in this text. That's all I did with this edit.

Edited April 20, 2015 by Dual Dragons

[Loki Laufeyson]

I hate myself for this, but i cannot enter. I just didnt have the time this time. :U I think i might sit the next one out too cuz the next week is gonna be mad for me. Sorry.

[blah the Prussian]

Whelp, gonna have to join Loki here. I did write something, but it turned out to be pretty awful. Fortunately I have plenty of other good ideas for later.

[Sunwoo]

I'm still debating whether I should enter or not. My entry wouldn't be long and would probably hit the minimum word count, but I am just really busy and don't know if I have time to enter or not. But I should have until midnight to get in an entry so … we'll see.

[eclipse]

I've gotta pick my mom up from the airport (eventually). . .so if I'm not around to end the phase (~1 hour, 40 minutes remaining), it will remain open until I come back!

[Jotaro Kujo]

I MADE IT IN TIME THANK GOD

Writer's block sucks, this story probably sucks but I have it finished and edited with the little bit of time I had left. Also the characters in the story are supposed to be aliens but I'm about to do a major overhaul of the world they come from so you can treat them as humans right now and it'll really be the same.

Title: Siblings

Original Fiction

Summary: The commander of an army loses his eye right as the country goes to war.

Words: 3204

Note: I do mention blood in the first paragraph and a little bit later but I made sure to not go into explicit detail about what actually happened to his eye.

Gale lay on the floor, hurt, bleeding. He could feel his blood pool around his face, seeping into his nostril and mouth. The awful metallic smell and taste overwhelmed his senses, and he gagged. A strange sensation nagged at his right eye, a burning tingle that darkened his vision and made his left eye water. With a mighty grunt he picked himself up off the ground and staggered to the door; each step more laborious than the last. The sound of his boots falling heavily on the marble floor seemed very far away. He reached for the door handle and missed, he retried and retried but could not seem to find what he was looking for. Defeated he went to knock but in his stupor he fell forward, hitting his head on the door. Dots swam around his eyes and he could no longer stand, falling to his knees, hanging his head in shame.

“Plip…plip…plip…” Gale heard the dripping of his wound and tears on his hands and tunic as he sat there, trying to get up again. He mustered the strength to get himself propped on his hands and knees, but he slipped, knocking the right side of his face on the floor. The last thing he heard before slipping into blackness was a sickening crunch.

When Gale next awoke, he was in a tent somewhere; the thin fabric ceiling greeting him. There was a kind of commotion outside, people shouting and materials being moved, constructed. He sat up, surveying the tent. It was filled with medical supplies, and above his head was a small wall idol of the goddess Europa, with her arms outstretched, a dish containing a lock of light blonde hair. With a heavy sigh, he ran his fingers through his chestnut-colored hair and his fingertips brushed against a strip of gauze on his face. Panicked, he ran his hands all over his skin, and found an alarming amount of gauze over the right side of his head and face. When he touched his eye he cried out in pain, but his throat was dry and hoarse, so nothing but a cracked noise escaped. He didn’t realize when he had started crying.

It didn’t take long for someone to come in and visit him, and the familiar chime of bangle bracelets made him feel relieved. It was his little sister Niheena, but he couldn’t see her because of the bandage. His good eye wasn’t facing the tent door.

“H-i…hello.” Gale signed with his hands, but because they were shaking he couldn’t form the words so well.

“Gale!” Niheena signed, but he couldn’t see her. “Gale!” She signed with more intensity. He still didn’t respond so she clapped at him. He motioned her over to his left side. She practically ran to the other side of the tent. “They told me you were hurt but they never said! But now I can see…your eye.”

“How b-bad?” Gale asked, trying to keep his hands from shaking so Niheena could understand him. It wasn’t working very well, but she could still understand.

“See for yourself.” Niheena held the palm of her hand up when she was finished signing. A thin piece of ice in the shape of a disc formed, which acted as a mirror. The bandage wrapped around his head and Gale could see traces of deep crimson seeping through the bandages. He let out a heavy sigh.

“It’s g-o-ne, isn’t it?” Gale asked. Niheena nodded, her purple pigtails bobbing with the motion. The corners of Gale’s mouth dropped. Suddenly he couldn’t look his sister in the eyes. A noise of agony and frustration escaped his throat and he hit the bed with his fists. Making another noise, he curled up, pulling his knees to his chest and pressing his hands to his eyes, which just made him choke out another howl of pain. His body shook from the physical and emotional pain, as he grit his teeth.

Niheena put her hand on Gale’s knee, and he looked at her. She could feel his emotions and her face was a reflection of his face, the pain he felt she could feel too. However she understood her brother, what he was going through. She cupped her hand to the side of his face and a tear fell from her eye, and another, and another until her face was red and her nose ran.

“I-“I’m sorry…” Gale signed, his fingers lingering on the last of the word, trailing off into nothingness as his hands fell back to the bed. She shook her head and her mouth moved.

“Don’t be,” were the words her lips motioned, soundless. She looked down for a moment, debating something silently, until she finally looked back up. “There’s more, you know,” she signed, “the apostles have gone into hiding. Something had stormed the tower and forced them out, and now Oasis is at war.”

“I saw it. The t-h-i-n-g that did it. That t-h-ing did this t-o me t-o-o.” Gale responded as quickly as he could. He was getting increasingly frustrated at his hands being unable to sign properly; he had to tell Niheena what had happened.

“Do you want to talk?” His sister asked, readjusting her glasses afterward.

“If you want to read my lips, fine,” Gale spoke aloud, “that thing said his name was Gax. A demon, I think. I don’t know how to describe him; he was like a giant shadow. I could see his eyes somewhere in that swirling black mass, red as my bandages.” Though his voice was hoarse and raspy, because his sister could not hear it didn’t matter. He made sure he was just talking correctly so she could understand his lips. Niheena shook her head.

“A demon named Gax, chasing the apostles away and now this. I just don’t understand. As for where the apostles went, I don’t know. The remaining members of the senate are losing their heads trying to find them while they mobilize the troops. Oasis is completely panicking right now!” Her hands were starting to shake now, too.

“Gax got to the senate too? What about the castle guard, what about my men?!” Gale said, his heart sinking to the pit of his belly.

“The guard is ok, as far as I know. In fact, it was Orthellon that found you. He said he had heard a crash coming from the apostle’s sitting room and feared the worst. He still had a shock when he saw you there, though.”

Gale started to get out of bed. The news was too much for him, he had to get out there and help. He had no idea what kind of hell Gax had unleashed upon Oasis but he was ok, it was just his eye. He could do it. Grabbing his whip and his axe, he headed to the door, but was stopped by Niheena clapping at him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Oasis is at war and it’s my duty to protect it to the best of my ability. With members of the senate gone and the apostles missing, I have to get my men and help!” Gale practically yelled.

“And you think you can do that right now? With how you are?”

“I still have one eye, I will be fine!”

Niheena clenched her fist, wispy tendrils of cold air radiating off her glove. She flicked a harmless ice shard at her brother and he tried to dodge but it hit his right shoulder.

“That wasn’t fair,” Gale said.

“Do you think the enemy will be fair? We are at war and the reports I’ve heard are bleak.” Niheena signed, before relaxing her body. “Gale, I’m deaf and mute and I cast spells. At least let me help you get adjusted to life with a disability now. Let me do this much.”

Disability. That was a word he had heard all throughout his youth, ever since the day Niheena was born. He had heard of silent babies before then, babies who would look like they were crying but made no sound. He had heard of babies who could be subjected to the loudest noises without reacting whatsoever. He had seen people of all ages who were like that and even more, people with missing limbs and eyepatches and even those who had to take medicine because of “invisible disabilities” but who were disabled all the same.

Suddenly the reality of the situation came crashing down all around him. And the crushing agony of defeat ran rampant through his body. Just one encounter with something and now everything had changed. What if Gax had taken both eyes? How could he speak to Niheena when he couldn’t see her sign language? Would he even be able to use his weapons again? His face went pale and Niheena caught him as his knees gave way and he crumpled. She picked him up and sat him on the bed. Her face was still red and streaked with tears.

“It’s ok, Gale. I know it doesn’t seem like it’s ok but you’ll adjust-I promise you will. I know we’re in a war and things are dire but let me help you so you have a fighting chance out there. Orthellon is handling things right now and the senate is working as hard as they can. So please, let me help you.” After Niheena finished signing, she held out her hand. Gale nodded, and he took it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Niheena had set up some training dummies for Gale to practice on. The straw bodies were crude and held together by ice that was melting, but he appreciated the trouble she went through.

“Ok, let’s start with your whip first. Go ahead and do what you normally do.” Niheena signed.

At least Gax had not taken Gale’s left eye. His whip was strapped to his left hip and he was able to undo the clasp easily, just like normal. He held it tight as the electricity flowed through it, and Niheena jumped out of the way before it nicked her leg. Gale rushed the first dummy, wrapping the rope around its head and frying it. He turned on his heel and rushed the next dummy, watching the weapon sail right by his target and then-he lost it. A part of it had whipped over to his blind spot, which was suddenly terrifying, and Niheena clapped frantically to alert him that the end was going to hit his face.

“YARGH!” He cried out as the electricity burned his skin and disrupted his body. His muscles gave out and suddenly a twitching mess on the ground. Niheena ran to him, but he was unresponsive.

Gale wasn’t surprised to wake up in the medical tent again. He could hear someone leave, and the clinking of his sister’s bracelets as she walked in. When she came into view, he could see she was trying to hold it together.

“I’m sorry!” She signed frantically.

“I’m fine, Niheena. Really. I’ve shocked myself before with the whip.” Gale said.

“You nearly took your ear off!”

“But I didn’t. I’m sorry for worrying you. I’ll work on the axe next, ok? I have to get used to only having one eye before I can go back to the whip.”

Niheena wiped her eyes and gave her brother a weak smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they returned to the dummies, Gale took his axe off his back and swung it in a wide arc, cleaving the first one in two. He tried to work off the momentum of the swing but didn’t see the tree that was next to him. Instead of propelling himself forward to attack the next dummy, the backside of his axe got stuck in that tree. He cursed under his breath as he pulled it out. He swung again at the middle dummy, but he just lightly nicked the straw, and he missed the third dummy on the follow-up swing entirely because he couldn’t see it. Confused, he tried again, but he couldn’t seem to hit the dummy from his position.

Niheena could feel the frustration emanating from the knight before her. She knew how Gale felt-that horrible feeling of inadequacy and the sinking suspicion that they were nothing more than a burden-and she laced her fingers together. She watched as he kept trying to hit the middle dummy.

Gale tried and tried again until he was doubled over and desperately trying to catch his breath, using his axe for support. Sweat dripped from his hair and nose, and saliva ran out of his mouth. He motioned for Niheena to come over.

“Do you want to stop for now?” She asked. Gale nodded. She draped his arm over her shoulder, and walked back to the tent.

“I have no depth perception.” Gale signed. Niheena nodded. “Please, help me get past this.”

“Right now, you need to eat and rest. You’ve had a long day, and Orthellon made me promise to take care of you until he gets back. The sun is going down so he and the rest of the knights should be returning. Rest now and wait for them.”

Gale had no idea how he was going to face Orthellon, or anyone else for that matter. His sister was right though, his stomach growled loudly and his eyes were heavy with fatigue. He could wait for food, and for his friends.

It didn’t take very long for him to arrive. He looked nervous, and he kept wringing his hands. It was no secret that he didn’t want to look at Gale. He shifted on his feet and looked away.

“Attention,” Gale said weakly. The young knight complied in a snap.

“S-sorry, commander. It’s just I- I thought-“ he let out a sigh, “you looked like hell the last time I saw you. I was just…scared.”

Gale put his head down.

“Look I- Niheena left a note for me. You know I’m not good with Olonian sign. I’ve been trying, but I think I may have told her that you look like a toad, o-or something.” Orthellon continued. Gale chuckled.

“’Hell’ and ‘toad’ are two completely different signs, Orthellon. You’re lucky Niheena didn’t drive her heel into your foot. You can’t see them well under her favorite purple skirt but they’re there.” Gale said. For once since the ordeal started, he actually looked happy.

“Y-yes well, I’ll try to learn more so we don’t have to write back and forth. Commander…Are you going to return? We could really use your help. I-I know about your eye and all but I’ll be blunt. We’re getting our rear ends kicked out there. Gax has these things that fight for him, they look like the shadows of possessed rags.” He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “I know it sounds silly but these things, no matter what you do they just keep coming back. Nobody’s been wounded yet thankfully, but we spend day after day chasing them out of the Bicentennial City. We’re exhausted!”

Gale said nothing, and the two were silent. They could hear the shouts of men outside, who were returning to the camp. Niheena was ushering them into the next tent over; they could hear her bracelets jingling as she motioned for them to come inside.

“Niheena tried helping me today, Orthellon.” Gale said finally, pulling his knees up to his chest. “I can’t-I can’t hit my targets anymore.”

More silence. This time it surrounded the two like a thick fog, enveloping them with a horrible feeling of dread. They didn’t even want to speak now, but they knew that nothing would be accomplished at this point. Orthellon had to say something-anything-that would get Gale back on his feet, but he knew the first words out of his mouth had to be the right ones. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his whole body trembled. Those first words…

Orthellon finally spoke, “W-we found Nei. And her twins, Pip and Kip.”

Gale’s head turned to meet his soldier’s eyes in an instant. Orthellon kept going.

“They’re ok! All three of them are fine, a-and Nei said that Ekram is ok too, though knowing him, he’s probably off with his stash of drugs somewhere-too high to know what’s going on, you know? But they’re going to be coming here tomorrow and-“

“Does Nei know where the apostles are? She was assigned to one of them, she should know…”

“No, she doesn’t know. But she did help them escape. Nei swears on her honor as a servant to the apostles that those two are safe, wherever they are.”

Gale jumped out of his bed, and put his hands on Orthello’s shoulders, a giant smile on his face. It came as a relief that the commander looked much better than he did previously.

“Thank you, my friend. I think I really needed to hear that. As for the other men, you’re in charge until I can learn how to do things again. You’ll do fine, I know you will.”

Orthellon nodded, a smile spreading across his face too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Niheena placed three cups on the table next to Gale’s bed.

“Go on, grab them,” She signed. Gale tried, just barely touching the cups, but he didn’t grab a single one. He was frustrated but he knew he couldn’t give up, not now.

His sister sat there, watching him for the entire time. Her yellow eyes stared intently at his hands, and she watched patiently as he fumbled. A glint would shine in her eyes whenever he grazed a cup, but it didn’t last long. It never did. Gale continued, until finally, after so long, he grabbed one. Niheena smiled brightly at her brother.

“I knew you could do it!” Now, try again. Get comfortable grabbing them.”

It didn’t take long for Gale to start getting the hang of it. Soon he was grabbing them more than he was missing them, and he was getting better every time. Niheena looked so proud of him now that he was adapting.

“There’s one thing I need to tell you, Gale,” She motioned, “you need to know that even though you’ve gotten much better now it’s not going to go away completely. You’ll have your good days and your bad days but this is for life.”

Gale nodded. “It’s still too early for me to come to terms with it but I am starting to understand.”

“That’s what I like to see.” Niheena smiled. “Well, you may as well go test your mettle against those training dummies.”

Suddenly, Nei burst into the tent, breathing heavily. “No time for that,” she said between breaths, “Gax has some new additions to his army and these things aren’t like those shadows earlier. At least we can hit ‘em now.” She looked directly at Gale. “Suit up, commander, your men need you.”

Gale looked to Niheena, and she nodded.

“For now, I’ll cover your blind spot. Please try to keep your whip away from me.” She signed. The fire of determination sparked in his eyes. He got up and threw his tunic on, grabbing his weapons from the side of the bed.

He was going to fight until the streets ran red.

shout-out to my formatting for getting all messed up

[eclipse]

. . .and that's a wrap! I'll post the nominations and whatnot into the voting thread~!

[Jotaro Kujo]

Congrats to everyone who participated, I enjoyed reading through the entries! I'm going to go ahead and put up this week's prompt early cause I know it takes a while to write stuff and I would like to let others have a chance. Please be aware that the contest doesn't officially start until Monday though, so if you complete your story before Monday, don't post it until then.

This week's prompt is: A character's weapon suddenly has the ability to speak to them and others; how do people react to this? (Optional: how does this affect how the character uses the weapon in battle?)

Things you can do: Any weapon. It's fine to get creative! You can have the weapon communicate however you want. It's also fair game to have a weapon talk through a character, because they're still communicating with people. You can use original characters or preexisting characters.

Your constraints are: You cannot use a weapon that already has some way of communicating, no matter how the communication is done. However, if you want to use an existing character who hallucinated that their weapon was communicating with them or it was in a dream (and the character's weapon can't communicate through dreams) then that's fair game. You also can't write a backstory for how the character met the weapon, even if it's not explained in canon. If you have a question about this topic, feel free to ask in this thread or shoot me a PM and I'll get back to you ASAP.

The round ends on May 2nd, at 12:00AM EST. Click here to see how much time you have left!

Good luck to all the potential contestants!

EDIT: I've been getting some questions about what is/isn't allowed and I apologize for the confusion. I'm going to try to clear this up a little more for those still wondering.

An example of something that is allowed is a fic where Ragnell somehow gains the ability to speak, which freaks out Ike and friends

An example of something that is not allowed, is a fic of Fi speaking with the goddess Hylia even though we've never seen it, because the Goddess sword was made with communication in mind.

Basically, if the weapon has no sentience from wherever it comes from, then it's allowed. (this applies to weapons who need a specific person to use them but otherwise don't do anything else)

Edited April 24, 2015 by Jotaro Kujo

[Anacybele]

Eh, sorry to say, but this topic doesn't interest me much. I'm going to sit out this time. Again, sorry... :(