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SF's "Write Your Butt Off" II - Return of Writer's Block


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SF's Write Your Butt Off! II Votals  

11 members have voted

  1. 1. Which submission will you vote for?

    • "The Heart of Dedication"
      0
    • "The Strength Within"
      5
    • "Simply a Hunter"
      0
    • "One More Time"
      3
    • "Perfected"
      2
    • "No One Is Iredeemable"
      0
    • "Going Forward"
      1

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  • Poll closed on 03/09/2019 at 10:00 PM

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1 hour ago, Dragoncat said:

Stay safe!

Is it Hector

Nope, from what I see, it's name is Lane. That sounds really lame and old, as in 1940s old, yet it is somehow presently a Category 4.

 

I guess I could join in on this thing, but not this first round, since I've never held a job. It's fine to hop in later, right?

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5 hours ago, eclipse said:

Please don't end this round early.  Looks like Hawaii's in for a hurricane (though whether it brings some rain or actually does major damage is still up in the air).

Huh. Japan's getting hit by a typhoon right now too. Wonder if they're the same storm.

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Yikes. Stay safe out on the islands!

Anyways--Here's my submission for Round #1

Title:   The First Judgment 
Words:  2,029
Fandom:  Fire Emblem Awakening 
 

 

“My dream for when all the fighting has ended is to become a magistrate who helps all manner of people. I want to help nobles and commoners alike settle their grievances.”  -Maribelle; Dire Damsel-
________
Often enough Maribelle had said the words in her shepherding days. So often and with such vigor, she got to thinking she might actually be good at it.

She knew all the right people. She was heiress to the Duke of Themis and childhood friend to the royal family. The finest tutors money could buy would vouch for her abilities and the quality of her education, and even supposing that they would not, any superior track judge in the Halidom would jump to hand her a vicinage at the merest suggestion of favor from her Lord-Father.

The dream was most certainly an achievable one, if she willed it.

And so it came as no surprise to anyone when Lady Maribelle received her robe, her gavel, and her commission to hold Court as first magistrate judge for the Southern District of Ylisse. Neither then did the whispers and rumors that surrounded her appointment:

Spoiled brat—she has not earned this.

A weak-willed woman elevated to a station beyond her abilities by a famous father. Nothing more.

She should be hosting tea parties.

She is not fit to sit a judge’s bench.

The King’s harlot.

Has Chrom taken leave of his senses?

She must have sucked him dry for that commission.

The rumors were as voluminous as they were ugly. They always had been. Maribelle was no stranger to ugly rumors. Talk of improprieties with the King and appointment as quid-pro-quo for a sordid, scandalous affair she paid no mind. For she knew them to be lies and slanders.

Talk of her father’s influence opening doors for her that ought not have been opened by way of her own abilities and rumors of her own ineptitude—these Maribelle found more troublesome. For she half-feared they might be true. So it was that with mixed trepidations of fear and excitement Maribelle greeted her first day on the bench.

The Hierarchs had dispatched a personal envoy to oversee the day’s proceedings. Rumors of impropriety and incompetence had not escaped their notice; if this new appointment was truly incompetent to dispense justice in the King’s name, Chrom would hear of it.  

“A word of caution,” Hierarch Benedictus spoke down to her with barely disguised disdain. He was an old man of rigid orthodoxies and aggressive chauvinisms; firmly set in his ways and a well-known champion for the rights and privileges of the aristocracy. He thought little of the common men or their sympathizers, less of women, and had very likely himself originated several of the rumors that Maribelle was unfit to do anything more than host tea parties. “It is known that you harbor certain—sympathies—for the peasants. Remember that your duty as magistrate is to the Law of the Halidom. You are not to base your judgments on sympathies or feelings. You are not to grant clemency to lawbreakers where you find normal order of law to be cruel or unjust; a thief who cries and begs and pleads he only stole to feed his family is still a thief. You are to limit your inquiries to the scope of the law and follow the law to the letter. Tell it true—do you honestly believe you are capable of doing his job?”

“What an odd question…” not even for the slightest of moments now did Maribelle second-guess herself or flinch or buckle beneath the Hierarch’s scorn. Confronted with this manner of man, everything suddenly seemed so clear.    

 My dream for when all the fighting has ended is to become a magistrate who helps all manner of people. I want to help nobles and commoners alike settle their grievances. However, in order to achieve this dream, we must first overcome the obstacles before us here.

“…you ask me to always follow the letter of the law; never to let feelings or sympathy for the lawbreaker cloud my judgment. And yet—it is by such feelings and sympathies that you protect the worst crimes of the great houses, is it not?”  Maribelle knew of this Hierarch by reputation. For all his self-righteous pomp and indignation, his disgust at leniency for lawbreakers extended only to the common-born.

“Hold your tongue woman!” the barely disguised disdain was no longer barely disguised.

“Do you ask me this because you truly fear I will not follow the letter of the law?” Maribelle challenged. “Or because you fear I will not skew it to your liking?”

“…You forget who you are speaking to…” Hierarch Benedictus seethed.

“I remember exactly who I am speaking to.” Maribelle donned her robe of office.  “YOU forget that you are speaking to a magistrate judge of Ylisse.”

“A sorry day for the Halidom when Duke Themis’s brat gets to speak those words. Stupid girl.” The Hierarch muttered under his breath, taking his leave from judge’s chambers.   

“What was that now!?” Maribelle called out after him.

“I said see you in Court,” the old man spat.

___________

The first case brought before the judge’s bench on Maribelle’s first day of judgeship was that of a village boy, accused of stealing grapes from the vinery of a landed noble. The penalties under the law were a fine the boy could not pay, or 60 days in jail, or 180 days of indentured servitude to the begrieved noble.         

“I-I-I didn’t know m’lday! I didn’t know!” The accused was a good lad; sweet and simple and salt-of-the-earth. The poor boy was terrified—rightfully so. Something about him reminded Maribelle of Donnell when they had first met, and for a moment she imagined a younger version of her own husband on trial for some such petty offense.

“But you did take the grapes?” Maribelle pressed. The boy did not deny it.

“I-I-I didn’t know it was noble land. Never meant no trespass, I did.” The dialect was crude and rustic, but Maribelle understood his meaning well enough. “Been picking berries from that field for generations, we have. Never told no noble owned the place. Shoulda known something was up when grapes started growing, but. B-b-but…” The boy panicked and lost his train of thought.

“Do you have any proof that your family owns the land on which this vinery is situated?” Maribelle addressed the boy’s accuser.

“Pardon?” The noble seemed taken aback by the question.

“I have heard testimony here today that the property was in common use for generations before this incident, and that no claim of exclusionary title was ever asserted against the users.” Maribelle explained. “This is consistent with my understanding of the metes and bounds of your estate. That is why I am asking you if you have any proof that your family actually owns the land.”   

“It was recently gifted to us.” The noble testified.

“By whom?” Maribelle asked.

“By him! That man—right there!” The noble pointed out none other than the old curmudgeon himself—Hierarch Benedictus—present in court and grinning a triumphant, self-satisfied grin.

“Approach the bench.” Maribelle sighed. He is testing me. It is no coincidence that this is my first case. He means to make me punish the boy and prove that I will play his game, or admit that I cannot and surrender my judgeship.

“Your Honor,” the Hierarch faux-bowed, with dripping contempt.

“You heard the accuser’s testimony that the vinery where this supposed theft and trespass occurred is on land that you personally conveyed to his family.” Maribelle recited. “Are you prepared here today to testify as to the facts and circumstances of this conveyance?”  

“I am. And I have brought extensive documentation. You’ll find that everything in order” The Hierarch testified at length and presented certificates, contracts, notarized memoranda, deeds…

 Nooooooo—he can’t be this dense.  Maribelle reviewed the documents. The error stuck out to her like a sore thumb. Does he really not know what he just admitted to?  “You are saying here today that you conveyed this parcel of land…”

“I did.” The Hierarch affirmed.

“…and that you warranted to the accuser that you had title to convey…”

“To his family; yes.”

“…and they built a vinery on the land relying upon your assurance that you had conveyed good title.  Vineries are quite expensive.” Maribelle turned again to the accuser. “How much did that cost?”

“120,000 gold” The noble answered.

“120,000 gold.” Maribelle repeated, and turned back to the Hierarch. “They spent 120,000 gold.”

“Where are you going with this?” Hierarch Benedictus balked. “I will remind you that the magistrate is instructed to limit her inquiries to the scope of the law.”

“So I am.” The pompous old fool had completely disrespected her authority from the bench and belittled her in open court, but Maribelle ignored the slight. “You call this a ‘gift.’ Isn’t it true that you received payment of 8,000 gold for conveyance of the property?”

“That was a fee for preparing transactional documents and recording the deed. The land itself was conveyed free-of-charge. You are aware that this is a trial for theft and trespass and you have barely even addressed the accused, but spent the entire hearing pestering me on my business dealings, hmmmm?” The Hierarch was losing patience. “It would be a shame if I had to report to King Chrom that you couldn’t even manage this one simple case.”

“One final question.” Maribelle glared. “Are you aware that under the Austeritas Decree of the late Exalt Emmeryn, the subject property was protected common-grounds subject to exclusion from noble title?”

“Auster what-now?” the color drained from the Hierarch’s face.

“…which means that you never had title to convey and could not have reasonably believed you had title to convey.” Maribelle continued.

“The Austeritas Decree hasn’t been enforced since Chrom took the throne!” the Hierarch protested.

“…which means the accused could not have committed trespass or theft of private property, because the subject property is public domain. The accuser cannot privately own and operate his vinery or exclude the general public from it, because he does not hold title to the land. And YOU defrauded the accuser by falsely inducing him to spend 8,000 gold for conveyance and 120,000 gold for development of a property you had no title to convey.”

“THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!” Hierarch Benedictus turned red with anger and spewed spittle and made a damn public fool of himself. “I DEMAND A REAL JUDGE!”

“I am a real judge. And while I sympathize with your position that the law has not been enforced in years and understand why you may feel this entitles you to clemency, the letter of the law is clear. As is my duty. An accomplished man once told me so; I think you might respect him.” With that Maribelle took the last air of puffery from the old man, and his ego deflated. “On the subject of respect, I’m sure Chrom would be very interested to hear how you have respected his dear Sister’s decree.  Surely he does not need to be informed that because it was her law and not his, you don’t think you have to follow it—or do you still perhaps believe that this dispute requires the King’s personal attention?”

The disgraced Hierarch bowed his head in shame, apologized and said nothing further.

 “The charge of theft is dismissed. The charge of trespass is dismissed.  The accused is to be released from custody. The accuser is hereby ordered to surrender his vinery and cease excluding the general public from the subject property. Hierarch Benedictus is ordered to pay 256,000 gold to the accuser—128,000 in compensatory damages for accuser’s transactional fees and costs of property development. 128,000 in fines and penalties for fraudulent conveyance, unjust enrichment, and conspiracy to defraud the Halidom of public domain. The judgment shall so issue!” Maribelle pounded her judge’s gavel and called for the next case.
_________
That was the first time Maribelle ever held Court as magistrate judge.  

That was the last time anyone ever questioned her competence to sit a judge’s bench or dispense the King’s justice.

Edited by Shoblongoo
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No more hurricane.  Thanks everyone~!  So instead, I tried to finish this.  I think I failed but eh.  I'm not getting any more ideas.

Title: From Above
Words: 1,745
World: My own (and I kinda want to write more about it, too)

Spoiler

The city lights were but a bright haze from his vantage point.  Somewhere in the blurred mess of greens, whites, yellows, and reds, his target lurked.  In four hours, the deal would go through, the borders would be redrawn, and his town would lose the crown's protection.  With the recent drought, they'd relied on food deliveries from their distant king.  Once they became a territory of the Empire, they'd be left to starve.

The strong thrive, and the weak perish.  He spat at the thought.

The would-be assassin slowly made his way down the cliff, using a path reserved for those who manned the lighthouses.  He kept low to the ground, trusting his dull gray cloak to take care of the rest.  The low light in the area, combined with the sooty rocks should be enough to mask his approach.  That, and no one was due down from the lighthouse for another week.

About three-fourths of the way down, he ducked into a cave, and stripped off the outer layer of his clothes.  A (conveniently placed?) refrigerator provided him with a much-needed flask of cold water, which he sipped.  Though time was of the essence, he needed to look the part of the dashing butler.  A gentle breeze blew through the. . .side of the cave?  How'd he miss that fan?  With a sigh, he turned it up, while examining himself in the full-length mirror that he could've sworn wasn't there a minute ago.  The flush had faded from his cheeks, though sweat still shone in his black hair.  His formal wear was a bit rumpled from his jaunt down the cliff, and his shoes - oh, they were filthy!  Luckily, someone had thoughtfully provided a clean pair next to the mirror, along with a comb and a bottle of hair gel.  He conducted one final check of his gear, and smiled to himself.  If everything went according to plan, the Empire would no longer be a threat to anyone.

According to his map, the back entrance of the cave led to an unused service corridor.  It would be easy enough to slip in among the various servants, which would allow him to get close to his target.  Then, he'd have to find his contact among the guards, who would then lead him straight to the emperor.  A knife to the throat later, and the Empire would fall apart.  He opened the door, and stepped into the hallway--alley?  Surely, this alley would empty towards the street that would lead him to. . .the beach?!  The party was supposed to be in the heart of the city, not on the shoreline!  Yet waiters bustled around, several who wore the same burgundy vest, white undershirt, and rose corsage as he did.

"Ah, there you are, Joseph!" a man in an ornate black vest exclaimed.  "We were worried that you would skip work again!"  His contract didn't say anything about actually being a waiter!

"My apologies," the assassin-turned-waiter (whose name definitely wasn't Joseph!) stammered.  "It's been a hectic night."  He was rewarded with a clap to the back.

"Always busy with the ladies, hmmm?  These platters need to go on the buffet table.  I trust even a skirt-chasing dolt like yourself can figure out where they belong."  He grunted as he juggled a tray full of oysters topped with green onions in one hand, and another platter with desserts in the other hand.  As he shuffled his way to the buffet table, he took a peek at the desserts.  Something white and fluffy made up the majority of the slices, supported by what appeared to be a graham cracker crust at the bottom.  Each of the desserts was decorated with a raspberry.  Cheesecake, perhaps?  But wasn't cheesecake normally served with strawberries?

He quickly stopped his musings when he reached his destination.  Four large tables were shoved end-to-end, each covered with a dark green table cloth.   The seafood was in the middle of everything, so he delicately placed the oysters in the lone space available.  The dessert tables were off to the side, marked with a dark blue table cloth.  He gingerly placed the other tray down, then reached for a piece of paper that had been left near the bread pudding.

"The peace treaty between the Rothwell Empire and the Kingdom of Lacrius will be overseen by Princess Aveline.  This occasion will be Her Majesty's formal ascension to--"

"What are you doing?"  He looked up, and gasped.  Sparkling lavender eyes bored into him, framed by curly hair of spun gold.  Crimson lips contrasted her pale skin, with the faintest hint of a flush on her cheeks.  Her low-cut silver dress moved with every breath that she took, along with the string of white pearls that led tantalizing down to a modest pair of--wait.  He snapped himself out of his daze.  He'd have plenty of time to fantasize about her later.

"J-just taking out the trash," he stuttered, hastily clearing his throat.  He picked up the pamphlet, and stuck it in his vest.  A waiter's job was to keep things tidy.  Or at least that's what he thought it was.

"Your Highness, it's time," another voice chimed.

"I've been waiting all night for the goat cheesecake," came the curt reply.  "I'm going to enjoy this while I can!  Let them wait a little longer!"

"B-but the accord--" the voice continued.

"Accord, schmaccord.  The people have been waiting for two years for it.  A few more minutes won't kill them."

"Y-yes, Your Majesty."

The "waiter" turned towards the crowd, many of who shifted in their seats.  Off to the side, the woman piled her fourth slice of cheesecake on her plate.  Before Vincent could think better of his idea, he put a hand on Her Highness' shoulder.  She whirled around and slapped it off.

"Get your hands off of me, you filthy peasant!" she snapped, her dress moving with her wild gesticulations.

"Is that how the Empire treats its subjects?" he replied grimly.

"You're not worthy of being called a 'subject' of the Empire," she growled.  He stepped in and knocked the plate she was holding, hard.  Cheesecake slices flew in the air, landing conveniently away from the duo.  She reached out to slap him, but before her hand made it to his face, he grabbed her wrist and quickly twisted her around, using his free hand to hold her waist and other arm.

"There's a limit of three cheesecake slices per guest, princess," he whispered softly in her ear.  Her delicate floral perfume belied the deluge of curses that came from her mouth, and he desperately wished that he was alone in a hotel room with her, instead of on a beach in full view of everyone.  His reverie was interrupted by a sharp pain in his foot, followed by a trip to the ground.  He had just enough presence of mind to roll away from her quickly-descending high heel.  With a quick sweep of his leg, she was on the ground with him.  He buried his fist into her midsection, and was greeted with a gasp.  The world flipped, and she was on top of him, her knee firmly in his midsection.  He grabbed her wrists and headbutted her, while her knee found the side of his ribs.  From the corner of his eye, he noticed that the party went on, completely oblivious to the fight near the dessert table.  She latched one of her legs in his, and pushed.  The last thing he remembered was a sharp pain from his hamstring.

---

"That's enough, you two", a voice from above snapped.  The princess looked around, as the beach vanished, replaced by a large room with metal walls.  An older man stood over her, his bushy brown brows knit.  She extracted herself from her sparring partner, grabbing his hand to pull him up.  A yelp escaped her lips when she saw that he was frozen, his face a mask of agony.

"I didn't hit him that hard!" she protested, then whimpered as she saw a team clad in white wheel in a stretcher.  She stepped out of the way as they loaded her opponent on, and rushed out the door.  The older man tapped something on his coat.

"ARTHUR, GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW."  As she waited, her head and wrists throbbed.  She'd be bruised, but it was definitely better than being wheeled away by the emergency medical squad!  A boy burst into the room, his face as red as his lanky hair.  He leaned against a wall, breathing heavily.

"S-sir," he managed to gasp out.  The older man leveled a glare at the newcomer.

"What in the BLOODY HELL were you thinking?!  No thanks to that stunt, Vincent's stasis patch went off.  It'll take a week before he can return to training."

"B-but sir, his vitals went through the roof!  I wasn't sure what happened down there, and--"

"ENOUGH!" the older man roared.  The boy shrunk back visibly.  "His heart rate spiked, but that can also be a reaction to pain.  Her Highness had just induced a leg cramp, so that kind of physical reaction was to be expected!  And don't get me started on all those other glitches!  You're supposed to offer assistance, not do the mission for them!"  The resulting tirade was interrupted by a shrill ringtone.

"Captain Pierce here.  Yes, that's right, a leg cramp.  I'll explain when I get there."  His icy gaze turned towards the young woman.

"And YOU.  I'm disappointed in your performance.  I'll fully debrief you once Vincent wakes up.  Until then, you are to remain in your quarters.  Understood?"  She nodded mutely, as the older man turned and stormed out of the door.  Arthur walked over and gingerly touched her hand.

"I'm really, REALLY sorry that everything went wrong, Your Highness!" he pleaded, his voice cracking.  She shot him a small smile.

"Thank you for everything, Arthur.  But please, I'm Thelma while I'm here, not a Lacrian princess.  I'm glad you programmed the cheesecake.  It really is my favorite!"  His smile reached his blue eyes.

"T-thank you, uh, Thelma!  You're really nice!"  She let out a soft chuckle.

"I heard it's your first time running a mission, even if it was a simulation.  You managed the scenery changes well, at least from my end."  Arthur's chest swelled, just a bit.

"I promise I won't mess up next time!" he proclaimed.  Somehow, she believed it.

 

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Title: Anon's Awful Spectacular Spider-Man Fanfiction

Word Count: 3,152

World: SPECTACULAR SPECTACULAR (Spider-Man!) [I recommend you watch at least a few clips of the Shocker from this show before reading, so you can get a sense of what Montana's voice is like.]

Spoiler
New York never slept. It was always busy, every hour of the night as well as the day. However, if you knew where in the city to go and what time to go there, you could find a little more peace than you'd think. Hammerhead new the city well and where in place and time these spots were. His chauffeur took him down a relatively lonely road on the outskirts of Queens.
 
His vehicle had the style a striking piece of 1920s German automotive engineering. It's dark blue paint job would have let it melt into the pavement and night sky, if not for its abundance of real gold trim. It was the trim which Montana saw, cuing him that his favorite client had arrived. The car pulled up, and Montana got in, sitting across from the Big Man of Crime's right-hand.
 
"You got another tightfisted rascal on yer hands?" Montana asked.
The car drove off. Wordlessly, Hammerhead produced an overstuffed manila folder. Montana took it in his hands and began to try and make some sense of the mess of documents.
 
"Bill Hollister," Hammerhead began. "The Big Man's got some dirt on him. He's been slacking on his payments, but we want to make sure he has chance to change his mind before we start talking."
"Ain't he one of them politician types?" Montana asked, scrutinizing one sheet a bit harder than the rest.
"On city council. He wouldn't have gotten were he is without the Big Man, but it's made him cocky enough to think he can get away with disrespecting him."
 
Montana threw back his head and let out such a strong laugh he had to straighten his ten-gallon hat afterwards. "Sounds like a man proficient in his trade." Montana put the folder in his lap and leaned forward, face growing grimmer. "With the kind of security he's got though, I might need to charge extra to cover any additional expenses."
"Money is only a problem for the Big Man when people start holding on to more than their cut," Hammerhead retorted. Without removing his eyes from the hatted hired enforcer, he took a briefcase from the seat beside him onto his lap, locks facing Montana, who was curiously eyeing the process. With a few flicks, the briefcase was opened, revealing rows and columns of tightly packed stacks. "He's even offering you a down payment, to help cover those expenses you mentioned," he explained plainly. Hammerhead was scowling at Montana, but the latter didn't notice, his eyes too busy leering at the money. Not coincidentally, that was also the reason Hammerhead was scowling at him. The case was shut suddenly.
 
"Don't even think about taking the Big Man's money and running." Hammerhead lowered his flat brow. "If you do, all that'll be left of ya is a tombstone."
Montana scoffed and buried gaze back in the folder. "Come on now, that was just the one time. Silvermane had just been arrested. Heat was too high, no sense giving the money back to a man who can't use it."
 
"You don't ever gotta worry about the Big Man being arrested. You just worry about yourself, and your job. If you think you're up to it."
"'Course I am-" By now, Montana's indignance had given was to a no less stern attentiveness which was paid to the contents of the folder. Details of Hollister's office, and his accounting, which indicated a larger than average security team. The building was located in downtown Manhattan, so he'd have to make a subtle entrance, and even then be out quickly. Messing up would be punishing, not just to his own reputation, but also because it would put Hollister under even tighter watch by everyone. At that point, he'd be safe for at least-
 
"The Big Man said to defer to you on what size job this is."
"Pardon?"
"If you need some extra muscle, the Big Man can provide it."
 
Montana let out a small "hm" and scanned back over the files. "It might be a needful thing, if this is where I'm 'sposed to catch him. Any particular reason we gotta send this message to him at his day job, and not to his house?"
Hammerhead was quiet for a bit. When he spoke, his answer was impatient, but slow. Frustrated. "You have any more questions, or are you in?" The Big Man hadn't been eager to discuss his reasons even with his right-hand man, and so he hadn't. Better to keep Montana out of the discussion altogether, which both men in the car knew was going to be the final result anyway.
 
Nodding his brimmed face, the mercenary looked down at the mess of papers and charts for one last time before he closed it. Straightening himself and his hat, Montana smirked proudly to the seat across from him. "I think that should just about do it for the questioning. Tell the Big Man that you got yourself a deal. Don't worry about hiring those extra hands though, I can handle that part just fine myself. I already got a couple boys in mind..."
 
***
 
It was only a couple of days later. Montana was once again spending on the outskirts of New York, the trouble of rewarding work. He stood in an old, abandoned warehouse, filled with wooden crates and contents abandoned by market and manufacturer alike. Nearby stood two other men, one very large and one very small.
 
The three were gathered around a wooden crate. Before the other two had arrived, Montana had checked inside to find the crate full of drinking hats. There were occasionally things less ridiculous in these forsaken boxes than outrageous hats, but in this instance the box would just serve as a table for the three men's operation. Scattered atop it were the various maps and blueprints which Hammerhead had provided Montana some nights ago, all marked up with pencil and sharpie and some reprinted because the last version of the sheet had become more ink and eraser marks than anything else. It would be a very simple mission in the end, but a professional overthought things before deciding that.
"Any questions 'bought what we's 'bout to do before we begin, boys?" Montana asked.
 
Fancy Dan, the short man, standing in a two-piece plum suit, nodded "no."
The larger man stood like a statue. The quiet drew both other pairs of eyes to him, until the titan relented his query.
 
"Why do they call you Montana?" asked Ox.
 
Now Montana was the one being looked to for an answer. Fancy Dan had to admit that he was curious, now that it had been asked. With his fanciful footwork, it wasn't hard to figure out where his nickname came from. It was equally apparent how, with his bulk and brawn, Ox had earned his name; He was as strong as an ox, stronger even. But Montana? Maybe it was because neither Ox or Fancy Dan had ever been to the state, but it was hard for them to figure out what was so "Montana" about Montana.
 
"Hmph." Montana hesitated to respond, straightening his ten-gallon hat in thought. "Well," he finally said, "Montana's home to me. A man ought to carry somethin' of where he comes from with him." He stopped fiddling with the hat. "What about you two boys? Where're y'all from?"
 
"Brooklyn," Fancy Dan replied.
Both he and Montana then turned to Ox who, after a pause of indeterminate reason, responded plainly, "New Jersey."
 
"A couple Yankees, eh?" Montana chuckled. "Alright then, I'll explain this to y'all nice and slow-like. You two ever pulled a heist before?"
Fancy Dan gave a hesitant nod, he'd helped with heists but mostly of a different sort and structure, banks on the outside of town or across the state lines.
"Well, uh, no..." Ox answered.
 
"Don't you worry 'bout that, Ox," Montana smirked. "Just use that brawn God gave ya the way I tell you to, and it'll all go down smoother than greased tea. Now, here's what we gonna do-"
 
***
 
The lights had been a bit problematic in Bill Hollister's offices. In that section of the building alone, many of the lights refused to turn on, leaving the office in unworkable darkness an hour before its normal closing. Some of the outlets hadn't been working either, and so the office had called up CTW Electric Company and asked them to send someone over, and were promised that a couple of electricians would arrive by 1:00 PM the next day.
 
By the time the party of three electrical workers had arrived, it was 1:26. A relatively normal sized man apologized for the delay, and asked that he and his two friends of opposite sizes be buzzed in so they could quickly make up for their mistake. It would not be long, he promised, before the problem was fixed, and there would be no bill for the work as compensation. The receptionist checked with the third floor, were Hollister and his team resided for much of the day, and then asked for the identities of the three men. They provided names which lined up with those promised by the company, and so were let up the elevator.
 
The door had barely opened, and the three men had barely stepped out, and the middle of the three in height had barely just nodded to his compatriots, than chaos broke out.
 
A giant right hand sent one of the security detail against the wall.
 
Another guard reached into his coat for his OsCorp stun pistol, but his hand had barely outstretched before a tiny fellow had kicked his weapon away. As the midget's boots hit the ground, he began to spin his weight into a punch into his opponent's stomach. The taller combatant keeled over and was pushed to the ground by the small man jumping off his back, flying through the air towards another sentinel and dragging a foot across his face.
 
Three guards down, out of eight Montana reasoned to be in there. No time to secure the area completely, though. Among the screaming which had broken out he could already make out cries for help which were unmistakably made to 911. "Alright boys-" he began, when a fourth member of Hollister's security team interrupted with a loud shout of "freeze!"
 
This man had been smart enough to draw his weapon before attacking, but not smart enough to actually attack. Montana's right had had been on his waist since he walked in and, in a single swift motion, drew and fired a tazer which incapacitated the man. Two left, and not much time. "Let's get lookin', and make it quick." He looked towards the other two and motioned for them to follow.
 
They hurriedly made their way down a hall before finding the office which bore Hollister's name. "Ox," Montana ordered, "the door."
The behemoth stepped up and put his hand on the handle. "Can't," he replied, "it's locked."
 
Montana looked stunned for a second. "Aw dag-blame it, can't trust you know-nothin' amateur to- Just break it down then!"
 
Ox seemed a bit shocked by those unkind words, he knew they were criminals, but Montana seemed like he was gentlemanly. With a shrug though, he pulled back his fist and punched the door right off the hinges. A startled shriek could be heard, and once the door had landed, one could barely see the tip of William Hollister's head before it immediately retracted back under his desk.
 
The sound of footsteps followed. "Fancy Dan, keep us clear," said Montana. "Find us a safe, if you can." With a jerk of his head, he motioned Ox to follow him into the otherwise empty office.
 
The two men stepped in and stopped before the desk which hid a trembling politician. Montana, arms crossed, signaled to Ox with a nod.
No response.
The only sound was what could possibly be called the exchange of punches in the background. Fancy Dan was doing his job well, at least.
 
After a moment, the Western mercenary grew a bit agitated. "What are you waitin' for?" he snarled as quietly as he could, turning to the brute.
"What do you want me to do?" asked Ox, innocently enough for the mission.
"Don't you talk so loud you dumb varmint!" Montana shouted as quietly as he could through his teeth. "You ain't supposed to show it when you don't-aw!" Giving up keeping the exchange silent, Montana pointed at the desk and angrily shouted. "Throw the desk to the side!"
 
Ox complied. A significant dent was put into the wall.
 
Bill Hollister, in his neatly pressed suit, crouched with his hands over his head.
"Well now, Mr. Councilman, you's shaking like a jumpin' bean in a Christmas blizzard," Montana mocked, hoping to rebuild a little bit of the strong, well-oiled image he liked to keep. A luckily timed emphasis came in the form of Fancy Dan tossing a significantly larger man over his should and slamming him against the floor, visible past the professional's legs.
 
"You's right to," he continued, kneeling down. "The Big Man don't much like it when people start skipping on the payments people owe him. Now, you try to present yourself as a respectable citizen, so I gotta ask you, is not paying back the people who got you were you are very gentlemanly? Seems to me like taking their money with it, now don't it?"
Hollister nodded furiously in agreement, but said nothing aside from terrified and stuttered syllables.
"So you'll start making your payments to the Big Man again?"
More nodding.
"That's a smart fellow." Montana stood up. "Now, if you's a real man, you'll keep your word, but if you's just another slippery coward with a special seat, well...you're gonna be real envious of the greeting we gave your security folks the next time we meet, alright? Ox?"
The titan of a man looked down to his boss, awaiting orders.
"Smash something to show this gentleman what gets done to pay-skippers."
 
Finally, a clear order. Ox nodded, and looked around the room. The computer had already been obliterated, but the door was mostly intact, so Ox picked that up tore off the top third of it, seemingly without effort. There was a satisfied gleam in Montana's eyes. "Got the picture?" he asked their captive.
 
That was the last of the nodding Montana needed to see. He turned his back and began to walk out, Ox following after a moment of uncertainty.
 
Once Montana reached the now empty doorway, he looked to the side to find Fancy Dan straightening himself up after handling the last of guards. "You find a safe?" A nod in response.
 
With a smirk, the merc looked over his shoulder to Hollister. "Oh, and we'll be collecting your interest payments ahead of time, just so you know. Better not to let those build up."
 
The team reunited, and took the stairs up to the roof, Ox hauling a safe of indeterminate and honestly not particularly important contents. The whole ordeal needed to look like a robbery, and the missing safe would give just that illusion. Once at the top of the building, the three hopped from one rooftop to the other, away from the office building which was now surrounded and swarmed by police. In and out in 20 minutes. It should have taken 15, but good enough for a new team.
 
Another 20 minutes passed before the three were finally able to sneak down a fire escape hidden from view by the city's skylines and clustered buildings. Urbanization was a damnable thing, but Montana found it good for business. Ox didn't have any more problems following along with the escape, mostly because it was quite straight forward and Montana gave equally direct orders. They ditched their electrician outfits, blew open the safe, and emptied its contents of a couple thousand dollars into a patent leather briefcase which they inconspicuously carried with them out of New York City.
 
The police didn't catch Montana, Fancy Dan and Ox. However, they did catch the three electricians who had broken in to Hollister's office: Tied up next to a dumpster three blocks away, IDs stolen and stripped down to their undergarments.
 
***
 
To commemorate a job well done, Montana took his compatriots in crime fishing.
 
"Don't you think this is...boring?" Fancy Dan asked around the second hour, which felt more like the fourth or fifth or tenth. Montana had a rather nice speedboat, sometimes useful for his work, and in this instance it sailed alone on a lake which Montana fancied the perch of.
 
"Good business is done over boring sports," Montana explained. "That's why golf is so popular."
"Is it really?" Fancy Dan countered.
"Oh, you'd be surprised."
 
Silence. Still no fish.
 
Montana, leaning back in his seat, cast his line overhead, and it fell in the water on the reflection of the sunset. "You boys did good work out there today. I think it might be profitable for us to continue our business ties."
"You really think so?" Ox asked. He was on the starboard side, Fancy Dan and Montana on the port. The ship was titled notably towards the starboard.
 
"You did a heck'v'a lot better than I did on my first job," Montana admitted. "I guess a good leader does that to folks."
 
Not even a nibble.
 
"Now, don't get me wrong, you ain't half the sort of enforcer you need to be, but I'd say you got potential."
 
The right time, the right bait, the right lake...Fancy Dan would have given anything to catch a minnow at this point.
 
"Still," Montana began, "I cannot begin to fathom what compels you to wear that cockamamie stupid helmet!"
 
Ox stopped cold in the middle of drinking Mexican coke from his newly acquired soda drinking hat. "I like this hat."
"What is there to like about? You look like an off-duty clown getting drunk at a football game."
"It's a useful hat."
"It's a ridiculous hat."
 
"Says you," muttered Fancy Dan.
"Says the man in the purple suit!"
"Hey now," Fancy Dan retorted. "Purple is a very stylish color."
"It sticks out," added Ox.
"Doggonit, if you two want to be professionals, you better start presenting yourself like professionals."
"Says you!"
"Now you listen here, a cowboy hat is a timeless and charming accessory which-"
"No, a purple suit is a timeless-"
"I got something!" Ox called out.
 
Montana and Fancy Dan quickly quelled their debate and turned to see Ox reeling in his catch. It was a tough and tense battle, for the brief while it lasted, seeming to carry the boat to the before the prey broke the water-
 
A boot all tangled in seaweed.
 
Ox kept it anyway. He had guessed, correctly, that Fancy Dan and Montana alike would agree in the ugliness of that boot.

So yeah, I hope that isn't awful or whatever.

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Well, it's semi-late, but oh well.

 

Title: Dead Man's New Job.

Word Count: 2624

World: Real world (Sort of.)

 

Spoiler

 

You have died.

 

How? It’s simple, really. You weren’t being careful when you were hiking up on that trail, and some loose rocks went and ruined your day. Curse your friend for convincing you to take that trail with him that day, even if you were the one who wanted to go hiking after a long and emotionally-draining work week. You doubt he even tried to help you avoid your fate.

 

Still, it’s not like he could do much. From what you could remember, you’d actively told him to keep a safe distance ahead of you for the sake of comfort. He’s been a good friend for all these years and has listened to every word you’ve told him, so there’s no reason to believe he would ignore what you told him. When you think about it, you really shouldn’t be so angry at your friend… and yet you are.

 

Why is that, you wonder? Was there some sort of deep-seated resentment in there? You do remember him being a far better student in high school, even being the valedictorian of your class while you remained comfortably mediocre. Still, you did hold a higher paying job for most of your adult life than he ever did, so I guess there wasn’t really anything to complain about.

 

Still, there’s one thing eating at you at the moment. How can you still be thinking if you’re not even alive?

 

“I can answer that.”

 

A sudden wave of light washes over you, being the first thing you see after nothing but pitch black. The only thing more overwhelming than the brightness is the wave of yet more questions entering your mind.

 

“Those questions, as well. Now, wake up. Your eyes will adjust, don’t worry.”

 

You find yourself doing as the voice says, almost automatically. It’s as if your body is moving on its own. You now figure that you really don’t have much of a say in this matter. Whatever the voice says must be the best of solutions.

 

“Ah, thank you. Allow me to introduce myself.”

 

Standing before you lies an imposing figure, clearly masculine yet not to the point of being grotesque. This individual towers over you, and literally so; his height more than doubles that of your own two-story home. He wears a set of plain robes, white as the clouds, and a face that suggests dignity and power. Whoever this man is, you instantly know he’s not one to mess with.

 

“I am the man who will be overseeing you during your stay here. I go by many names, but for your own convenience, you may call me Ishmael, the name of the first son of Abraham. I have assessed your… performance.”

 

“My performance?” you ask him. “Performance in what?”

 

“In life. I’m sure you have heard the tales.” He begins to pace around the empty field of clouds which you are standing on. “Those who have made their lives positive, either through Christ or through other means, live meaningful afterlives. Those leading a life of sin, of course, go to Hell. The severity depends on your sinfulness, but nothing quite measures up to Heaven, as you can imagine.”

 

Suddenly, you notice him shrinking at a considerable rate. You aren’t sure why, he was doing just as fine a job being giant, but perhaps it’s for his own comfort. When he finishes, he is only slightly taller than you, maybe at around six feet. A book manifests in front of him, which he proceeds to pick up and read.

 

“You, I’ve noticed, are an… interesting case.”

 

“How so, Ishmael?”

 

“Simply put,” he states plainly, “you’re average.” He glares somewhat at you. “Not holy enough for Heaven, yet not sinful enough for Hell. A sort of purgatory, if you will, an in-between.”

 

The look on your face says it all; you are, simply put, lost. You were never the religious sort, and the idea of an afterlife wasn’t one you necessarily agreed with. Still, here it is, undeniable proof, and you’re pretty much speechless. Besides this, are you really that average? True, you’ve never done much with your life, but you’ve never considered yourself much of a sinner. You are, by all accounts, a simple, law-abiding citizen.

 

“Allow me to elaborate,” he continues. “Practicing one of the Abrahamic religious will tend to grant you great leniency when it comes to where you end up, so your lack of faith could be said to be your… downfall, of sorts.”

 

He then proceeds to show you his book, which lists off a surprising number of your life experiences. Those times you donated to the Salvation Army are there, but so were your less-than-positive moments, even events you don’t remember. You can’t even recall the time you walked past a kid who fell off his bike, yet there it is. Just staring at some of the things you’ve apparently done makes you mildly upset.

 

“And this is… this is all real?”

 

“Yes,” Ishmael tells you. “It’s all very real.” He stares at you some more. Then, silence.

 

“...is that all? What’s going to happen to me?”

 

“Hmmm… I think I have an idea. Follow me.” He points to his right, and when you look in that direction, you notice… a doorway? Ishmael goes in that direction, opening the door. After beckoning you to go inside, you oblige, partly out of willingness, and partly out of fear for your own afterlife.

 

Inside the door is what appears to be an office. Well, less ‘appears’ so much as it is actually a regular office, with some minor oddities. There is only one chair, for one. It sits at a desk facing the wall, one with a window revealing the outside world. Looking outside reveals just more clouds, which doesn’t particularly surprise you given the circumstances. The last thing of note is a book sitting on the desk.

 

“Huh, what’s…”

 

You walk over to analyze the book. Upon inspection, you soon notice that the book is entirely empty. What’s the use of this?

 

“You’ll see.” Ishmael laughs a little. “Go ahead, sit down.”

 

“...okay…” You sit down. This chair is actually absurdly comfortable, you feel like you could sit here all day. “What’s this all about?” Ishmael sighs, manifesting another chair and sitting down beside you.

 

“Well, here is my idea. You can imagine the task of deciding who goes to Heaven and who goes to Hell is a daunting one, right? Indeed it is.”

 

“Wait… you’re making me do that?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

Well, shoot. You get to work for eternity, and not only that, it’s at a job you have no idea how to perform. Back when you were alive all you really did was deliver mail, this is a whole new ballpark right here.

 

“Who said anything about working for eternity?”

 

You turn to look at Ishmael. Of course, you forgot he could listen to your thoughts. Just pretend that’s not creepy at all.

 

“It’s just until we can decide where you end up. And before you start, let me give you some motivation.”

 

He goes silent for a minute. You wait for him to respond, and it takes him a moment, but eventually, he does.

 

“If you do well enough, I’ll guarantee you a good spot up here.”

 

Well, that brightens your mood considerably. It’s hard not to take his request seriously, given the stakes at hand. A potential boring job, or eternal suffering? That’s the opposite of a hard choice, you think to yourself. You just have to do your job properly, if you can figure out what you’re doing.

 

Once you sit down, you see what looks to be a short line of people that you don’t even recognize for the most part. This is probably the group you’re going to judge for now. They’re all suspended in place with their eyes shut, apparently unable to move or even speak.

 

“This seems fine,” you say. “Can I start?”

 

“Of course. I would like to warn you, though. This will take longer than you think. That’s about all, I will be around if you need my assistance.”

 

With that, he vanishes. So much for being around. Oh well, let’s try to figure out what’s going on. You look through the window and read through the book’s empty pages some more. Let’s hope this all works out for you.

 

The first individual is an old man in a nice suit. You know nothing about him, so you assume you’re just supposed to judge by his appearance… until you look down. You notice the book’s pages start to actually fill with words. You just stare at it in silence for a moment, not sure if you should wait for this to finish. The book ultimately does finish filling up while you’re thinking about it. You read through to see what this man was like.

 

Well, you would read through it, if only you could figure out where anything is. Damn it, this book is confusing. You should probably figure this out soon, but… how? No table of contents, no notes, no… nothing. What to do, what to do…

 

“Ahem.”

 

There’s Ishmael again. What does he have to say now? You turn to look at him.

 

“It’s in chronological order. I hope that clears everything up.”

 

He vanishes again. Well… damn, honestly you should have thought about that. Chronological order, of course. You read from the beginning and you are able to confirm that the book starts from his birth and formative years. Besides that, some of the words appear to have been highlighted. Perhaps those are things you should keep an eye on. That should help plenty.

 

He was a district attorney, one who helped put various violent criminals behind bars. Despite a rough personality and shortcomings in his early years, he devoted his life to his job and did a good job of it. In fact, the most sinful thing the guy seems to have done is forgotten to go to church every now and then. This guy seems practically built for heaven, so you might as well mark him down as such.


You see two levers, one for Heaven, and one for Hell. This seems easy. You go ahead and try to pull the first lever, wondering what happens next. Once you look back out the window, you see the man practically levitating; in fact, it’s like he’s floating into the air like a balloon someone accidentally let go of. Well, if there’s one word you could use to describe this, it would probably be trippy. Oh well, on to the next individual.

 

Here we have a woman in her mid-50s, looking frail and tired. You almost feel sorry for her until you read what happened in her life.

 

“...God…”

 

This woman is a serial killer. Her husband and some friends of his died under ‘mysterious circumstances,’ she clearly did it, and yet she never got convicted. The book reports her levels of religiousness as ‘high,’ yet her remorse is ‘astonishingly low.’ Still, there is hope for her; the old ‘self-defense’ defense. Was this really the case for her? You dig through to look.

 

As you read, you find the section detailing the crime. The details are… frankly horrifying. However, there’s nothing here to suggest that the woman was acting in self-defense. It’s a wonder to you how she got away with this crime. Well, not anymore, you say to yourself as you pull that second lever. The woman begins to descend until she is entirely out of view.

 

“Okay, this is incredibly easy. Who’s next…”

 

You don’t see anyone when you look up. Huh, that’s odd. Maybe they’re further back, so you just have to wait. And so, wait you do. This could take a long while if you’re unlucky.

 

You hear a cough. You turn in that direction.

 

“Oh, sorry.” It’s Ishmael again. “I saved this one especially for you. I figure it will be a good judge of your character, so please be ready.” With that, he disappears again, leaving you to wait some more.

 

You don’t have to wait much longer, thankfully, because here comes someone right now. They slowly float toward you, their face growing clearer and clearer as they approach. As their familiarity grows, however, so does your dread.

 

“...oh no.”

 

It’s your friend. He doesn’t look a day older than he did on that hiking trip that got you killed. Or rather… the trip that got you both killed, from the looks of it. God, what happened to this guy? Did he go tumbling down the cliff? Did someone push him? Did he jump? You have more unanswered questions than you can count. You need to read through this.

 

You find information you already knew. He was a friend since middle school, you two were very close, even working at the same mail delivery business. He may have been more of a clerk while you handled deliveries, but things were good between you guys. You don’t really see much major for a while. It’s not until his death where things get confusing for you.

 

Apparently, he was responsible for your death… but entirely on accident. He’d nearly tripped earlier on the trail, but he managed to recover and keep going. However, through a contrived series of events, this lead to a few rocks being misplaced, allowing you to slip on them. It’s frankly absurd, but… he still killed someone. The fact that he of all people did this… it frustrates you.

 

This creates a problem. A conflict of interests, maybe? Whatever it is, it’s making it hard for you to judge what should happen to him properly. There’s the resentment coming in, but you can’t forget that this was accidental. You want him to go to Heaven, but something’s telling you he doesn’t… shouldn’t… no, no, no, he should be fine to go up, but…

 

“What to do, what to do, what to do…”

 

You spend several minutes sitting there, pondering your options. It’s giving you a rather extreme headache. No matter how hard you try to think about this, you simply cannot figure out what to do… what to do… oh dear.

 

“Ishmael? What should I do here?”

 

The man appears from the other side of the door. He doesn’t seem disappointed, but not entirely pleased, either. It’s more of a neutral expression.

 

“I had a feeling you would ask. It seems you’re being indecisive. If you really want to, I’ll make the decision for you, but it will cost you.”

 

“Cost me? What will it cost me?”

 

“Hmmm…”

 

He pulls the first lever. There goes your friend, you have no idea if you’ll ever see him again. To think, he had to do your job for you… it disgusts you. What is wrong with you, what is wrong with you?

 

“Ugh…”

 

“Now, now.” He looks down at you. “The punishment won’t be so severe. Take a look outside, if you will.”

 

“Okay…”

 

When you look outside, the line has returned, people and all. However, there is one noticeable change: The line is several times longer. You can’t even see the end of the line, it’s so long. This is really what you’re going to have to deal with?

 

“It’s this or a guaranteed eternity in the flames of Hell.”

 

“Y-yes, sir…”

 

“Thank you. Good luck.”

 

And so, you go back to work. You have no idea how long this line will go, but rest assured, you will eventually see the end of it. It will just take time, patience, and motivation, and you have plenty of those, especially the latter. After all, when your choice is eternal suffering or a long line the choice is obvious.

 

You think.

 

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You were 2 minutes late, so... fine, I'll let it slide this time.

Ok, no other submissions may be posted from now on. I'll open a poll shortly.

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I'll drop my thoughts on the ones I read here. Will read the rest later.

@TheSilentChloey I feel that this idea had potential, but the lack of lore and description made it fall short. I struggled with adding description and lore in too and still kinda do, so just keep practicing! I was left wondering about these dragons with human forms, because there was little to no explanation and description on their race. Also, you left out what could have been the most interesting part: the fight against the vampire queen. On that note, the vampires also suffered from the lack of lore and description. They almost sound more like insect demons akin to the arachnos in my entry. If you want a good site for writing advice let me know! It has an article on how to do description without dragging things out too much, that I think would help you.

@Shoblongoo This was a very neat idea and done well too! I found myself rooting for Maribelle and also having some sympathy for the poor farmer on trial. Pairing Maribelle with Donnel was a good choice here, because it showed that she can sympathize with farm villagers.

@eclipse I was confused for the majority of the piece, I kept wondering who this assassin's target was. The ending was a nice twist, I didn't see that coming, that the whole thing was a simulation meant to train the assassin. Also can I mention I love cheesecake?

@Anacybele I already told you my thoughts over PM, but for public: may have been drug out with a bit too much lore. The best part was how you made the thieves seem human rather than rotten criminals, I felt bad for the girl and her brother who fell off the cliff.

Edited by Dragoncat
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Poll created. Vote for whichever you think was the best submission.

Don't vote yourself, any self votes will be automatically discounted.

Edited by Rapier
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55 minutes ago, Dragoncat said:

I already told you my thoughts over PM, but for public: may have been drug out with a bit too much lore. The best part was how you made the thieves seem human rather than rotten criminals, I felt bad for the girl and her brother who fell off the cliff.

Yeah, I thought as much. I guess I just wasn't sure what to omit by the time I finished it, really. xP But thanks! And yeah, making those guys human is a good thing, and I also did this so it didn't seem like I added thieves to the castle just for the sake of it.

I apologize though, I voted before realizing there was one more entry! I'm still reading it though.

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@SirNicee Certainly a unique concept! I hope this character's situation isn't the norm...I fit in the same boat he does, not really religious, kinda believing in spirituality but not going to church and all that. Kudos for making the sinful serial killer a woman, normally you think of serial killers being men but women can be too. Might just be my bias for thinking female villains rock at work too, idk. You'd think the guy would be less hesitant when presented with his friend, but then again, I guess the job was supposed to be done without bias. Well written as far as I can tell.

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Thoughts. I'll get to the last two a bit later. If anyone doesn't want public feedback or would rather hear it in PM, then let me know.

Spoiler

 

@TheSilentChloey Dragons fighting vampires is cool, but there really isn't anything more than that. It's just an action set piece of dragons fighting vampires. We get a little bit about the main characters feelings, but the story is still mostly devoid of any real plot keep it together.

@Dragoncat It strikes me that this particular story might work better if it's not a fan fic. You use almost entirely a cast of original characters anyway and the setting is that important. Setting it in the world of Xenoblade makes me question a few things. Like why didn't they get Shulk to help fight the arachnoqueen? They just say he's not around, but then he pops up at the end anyway. Would it really have been all that problematic to delay the mission slightly to have a powerhouse like Shulk come along? Maybe Reyn wanted to prove himself able to lead without Shulk and face his fears, but if that's the intention it wasn't conveyed at all. I'm also not sure Colony 9, in that form, even exists post game in Xenoblade as the entire world seems to have been rebuilt. All this wouldn't be a problem if some of the names were changed and it was just a story about a regular guy promoted to commander that needed to fight a giant spider. Essentially what I'm saying is that the fundamentals of the story is good, but knowing more about the universe just raises more questions for me.

@Anacybele So dragoncat mentions this and you're aware of it yourself, but I'll say it anyway, this was way too long and way too bogged down by lore. I know you have your own post Tellius fan fic universe with tonnes of original characters, trying to cram them all into a short story for a competition like this simply won't work. It's too dense. You need to cut things down and focus solely on the plot. I don't care who Azura is or some guys parents that are forgetting things. What I can care about is Ike's son and his struggles on his first mission. That's the core of the story. And when we eventually get to that part, it's great. Things develop in an unexpected manner and our protagonists really feels something. It ends on an uncomfortable note that works really well. The manner of the accidental killing is also excellent. Just trim things down a bit and be aware that what are essentially cameos from your other works won't interest people who aren't familiar with your universe.

@Shoblongoo Maribelle really doesn't get much focus from the community, does she? And she's not all that bad a character either, gimmicky like all the other Awakening characters, but gimmicky in a way that really makes sense. Anyway, on your story, it was good. Something different from what one would expect from the Fire Emblem universe, but something the universe obviously has to have. My only real critique is that it seems the villain was a bit idiotic in how he screwed up. I thought he was meant to be a dick but someone that's actually conniving and smart enough to get away with his activities. But it seems like he just plain broke a law and thought he could get away with it. I get that he underestimated Maribelle, but it still seems like he screwed up too blatantly, to the extent that it felt less like Maribelle earned the victory and more like it just fell into her lap.

@eclipse This one was pretty confusing. It was hard to get a grasp as to what was actually happening, I'm not sure if the twist ending enhanced or reduced that feeling. But the world was interesting to say the least. It felt anachronistic with talks of empires and kingdoms, but then beach parties and waiters and some modern tech. Actually almost a shame it all turned out to be fake, because for me that was the most interesting part.

 

 

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1 minute ago, Jotari said:

 

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So dragoncat mentions this and you're aware of it yourself, but I'll say it anyway, this was way too long and way too bogged down by lore. I know you have your own post Tellius fan fic universe with tonnes of original characters, trying to cram them all into a short story for a competition like this simply won't work. It's too dense. You need to cut things down and focus solely on the plot. I don't care who Azura is or some guys parents that are forgetting things. What I can care about is Ike's son and his struggles on his first mission. That's the core of the story. And when we eventually get to that part, it's great. Things develop in an unexpected manner and our protagonists really feels something. It ends on an uncomfortable note that works really well. The manner of the accidental killing is also excellent. Just trim things down a bit and be aware that what are essentially cameos from your other works won't interest people who aren't familiar with your universe.

 

Yeah, I know it was dragged out a bit by the lore. I guess I just thought the lore might be interesting enough. But since the maximum length allowed was 10,000 words, can you really say it was too long? Also, since Azura does make one appearance in the story, I thought it was fine to tell who she was, at least. I do suppose I could've cut out a few of the other cameos though.

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@Jotari This is technically an AU, as said, but I won't go into details. Who's to say with the world being rebuilt, that it's not rebuilt in the way it was before, so Colony 9 existing as it did before? I tried to imply that the defense force has to do these things without bringing in outside help, even if said outside help happens to be the savior of the world basically. Shulk still isn't defense force, just...there I guess. Trying to lay kinda low and live a relatively normal life without the paparazzi demanding autographs, and you'd bet if he jumped to kill every threat in sight, that would happen. Make sense? As far as "most of the cast are OCs" goes, Miller and Emmy are actually very minor NPCs, so I understand if you forgot about them and thought they were OCs. But yeah, I guess those critiques are fair.

5 hours ago, AnonymousSpeed said:

[ No reviews for me ]

You can't all be using the night theme.

***

Will submit votes later. Have not read everything.

I'm not using the night theme, no, but I haven't read yours yet, will get to it soon.

Edited by Dragoncat
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14 hours ago, Dragoncat said:

Snipped for simplicity

@TheSilentChloey I feel that this idea had potential, but the lack of lore and description made it fall short. I struggled with adding description and lore in too and still kinda do, so just keep practicing! I was left wondering about these dragons with human forms, because there was little to no explanation and description on their race. Also, you left out what could have been the most interesting part: the fight against the vampire queen. On that note, the vampires also suffered from the lack of lore and description. They almost sound more like insect demons akin to the arachnos in my entry. If you want a good site for writing advice let me know! It has an article on how to do description without dragging things out too much, that I think would help you.

Probably because I was focusing more on what she sees and hears and if I did go into the backstory of their race it would have bumped up to an M rating almost immediately because there is no PG way to explain them that doesn't leave gaping plot holes...

 

That's just what I get for trying to PG an M story...:rolleyes:

 

Everyone's entries were mostly good reads.

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48 minutes ago, TheSilentChloey said:

Probably because I was focusing more on what she sees and hears and if I did go into the backstory of their race it would have bumped up to an M rating almost immediately because there is no PG way to explain them that doesn't leave gaping plot holes...

 

That's just what I get for trying to PG an M story...:rolleyes:

 

Everyone's entries were mostly good reads.

I see, well...I guess that makes sense.

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5 minutes ago, Dragoncat said:

I see, well...I guess that makes sense.

If I was free to post it as the M it is, yeah.  However that said I should have gone with something a little more PG.  Oh well we live to learn :XD:

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28 minutes ago, TheSilentChloey said:

Probably because I was focusing more on what she sees and hears and if I did go into the backstory of their race it would have bumped up to an M rating almost immediately because there is no PG way to explain them that doesn't leave gaping plot holes...

...there was probably a PG13 way to explain it. Something like two short paragraphs of exposition before jumping into the meat of your story would have sufficed, and would have greatly enhanced the overall work. 

Give the backstory here that you felt you had to leave out of your story because you didn't think you could tone it down enough to dodge a hard-M rating--I'll show you what I mean. 

10 hours ago, Anacybele said:

Yeah, I know it was dragged out a bit by the lore. I guess I just thought the lore might be interesting enough. But since the maximum length allowed was 10,000 words, can you really say it was too long? Also, since Azura does make one appearance in the story, I thought it was fine to tell who she was, at least. I do suppose I could've cut out a few of the other cameos though.

 @eclipse sorta did the exact opposite of what you did, and its one of the reasons why I voted for her this round. I like how she was able to deliver what felt like a finished vision--complete with narrator's exposition, a main action scene, and a twist ending--while keeping her writing tight and concise and not cluttering the story with deadwoo.
Its a very good illustration of the principle sometimes less is more.

Like--think of it this way. You want to ask someone if its raining. Does it better convey your intended communication to ask:

[A]  Hows the weather? (Word Count: 3)

  What in your experiential understanding is the likelihood that should I step outside my abode on this most blustery of days I will encounter precipitation (Word Count: 25)

_________

If a longer story is longer, it should be because there's more story to tell. Not because there's a maximum length for the piece you;re trying to reach, and you're just looking for ways to try and inflate your word count.

Something else to consider is that sometimes the author's silence on a topic that is alluded to but not directly described at length invites the reader to fill-in-the-gaps with their own imagination.

And that can add a sense of mystery or uncertainty to the piece, if that's the vibe you're going for. (something else I thought @eclipse did really well when she was giving those brief, fleeting descriptions of shifting terrain and the like in set-up for the end reveal)

 

10 hours ago, Jotari said:

My only real critique is that it seems the villain was a bit idiotic in how he screwed up. I thought he was meant to be a dick but someone that's actually conniving and smart enough to get away with his activities. But it seems like he just plain broke a law and thought he could get away with it.

  Fair enough.

I tried not to make the Hiearch to cartoony--rich old assholes really to get that arrogant when they feel like their wealth and social status puts them above the law (see Donald Trump). My biggest concern was that I made him humble himself and apologize just a tad bit to quickly when Maribelle called him out on his bullshit--those kind of guys never humble themselves or apologize for anything.

15 hours ago, Dragoncat said:

Pairing Maribelle with Donnel was a good choice here, because it showed that she can sympathize with farm villagers.

 

10 hours ago, Jotari said:

Maribelle really doesn't get much focus from the community, does she? And she's not all that bad a character either, gimmicky like all the other Awakening characters, but gimmicky in a way that really makes sense.

My first impression of Maribelle in Awakening was that she was a one-dimensional possessive, spoiled rich girl. And a bit of an airhead. 

I was pleasantly surprised when I started diving into her supports, and then I really liked what they did with character in the Forging Bonds event for FE:Heroes (that portrayal was what ultimately made me want to use her as the focus of this short story)

She's  a cool character--needs more love from the fandom. 

The way Brady turned out with his manner of speaking and arms-length-distance from courtly sophistication--preferring to present himself like one of the country bumpkins--was always very suggestive to me of Maribelle x Donnell. So its a pairing I like to work with.

_________

Props to @Anacybele for being the only other writer who actually went out of her way to work in the Fire Emblem fandom.

No secret that I'm a giant fire emblem fanboy--wouldn't be here if I wasn't.

Would definitely like to see more of those in future rounds. 

 

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12 minutes ago, Shoblongoo said:

 

 @eclipse sorta did the exact opposite of what you did, and its one of the reasons why I voted for her this round. I like how she was able to deliver what felt like a finished vision--complete with narrator's exposition, a main action scene, and a twist ending--while keeping her writing tight and concise and not cluttering the story with deadwoo.
Its a very good illustration of the principle sometimes less is more.

Like--think of it this way. You want to ask someone if its raining. Does it better convey your intended communication to ask:

[A]  Hows the weather? (Word Count: 3)

  What in your experiential understanding is the likelihood that should I step outside my abode on this most blustery of days I will encounter precipitation (Word Count: 25)
@eclipse@Anacybele

Uh... You're missing my point completely. I'm saying my story wasn't too long because it still followed the length rule. WHY it's long is completely irrelevant here. I KNOW what you're saying here, I KNOW I had it drag out much with lore. I KNOW "sometimes less is more." I'm just saying that "too long" and that's it is not correct because it was still within the length limit. Now yes, replacing what I had with less dragging lore and more things relevant to Kael and Cameron's job, that critique I can accept.

I personally thought that eclipse's story was too confusing. I can't tell what the character's first job is supposed to be at all. Just not sure what's going on in it in that sense. Otherwise, it seems fine. I voted for Shoblongoo's. The whole thing was just good and as Dcat put it, I was rooting for Maribelle all the way there. :P

Thanks for the props, btw. I love Tellius to pieces, as well as Ike, and pairing him with Elincia, so exploring how he'd act as a father is something I like doing since the series doesn't actually do this for us due to him not having any known canon kids. I even explore daddy Ike at different ages too. How he changes and grows as he gets older and his kids grow up. It's so fun!

Edited by Anacybele
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@Shoblongoo there is no bull when I said it would bump to an M if I did delve into the backstory.  There is no PG way to put it without significant plot holes.

 

Both the vampries that the Fliers are fighting and how the Fliers themselves are created/made in the first instance.

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3 minutes ago, TheSilentChloey said:

@Shoblongoo there is no bull when I said it would bump to an M if I did delve into the backstory.  There is no PG way to put it without significant plot holes.

 

Both the vampries that the Fliers are fighting and how the Fliers themselves are created/made in the first instance.

Then maybe using those characters wasn't the best idea. Just saying. xP

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5 minutes ago, Anacybele said:

Then maybe using those characters wasn't the best idea. Just saying. xP

Meh.  I had a couple of stories and Yuganna's POV is generally easier to write from and it does make for a good opening at least so it wasn't a complete waste.  I will have to see what the next theme entails.  That said I am normally an M author not PG as I tend to delve into M topics.

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3 minutes ago, TheSilentChloey said:

Meh.  I had a couple of stories and Yuganna's POV is generally easier to write from and it does make for a good opening at least so it wasn't a complete waste.  I will have to see what the next theme entails.  That said I am normally an M author not PG as I tend to delve into M topics.

Oh, I see. Yeah, it could be tough for you to find a more PG(13) topic then. I'm personally not an M author. I do have my main FE fic M-rated, but it's due to how much blood shows up in a few of the battles, nothing sexual or explicit. Another short story has implied sex, again, nothing explicit. Just an M for the implied sex. I just don't care for much M-rated stuff.

Edited by Anacybele
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