A Winter Contest

[Arik]

Starting today, and ending on December 25th, I will be hosting a contest of stories of the Sryth winter.

All you have to do to get into the contest is to post a story in this thread.

At the end of this contest, I will announce the winner, and the second- and third-place finishers.

So start writing quickly––you don't have much time!

[Arik]

The rules of this contest are:

You may only post 1 story.

Your story may only take up 1 post.

Your story must be at least 3 paragraphs in length.

Your story must involve winter, and must take place in Sryth.

[zmflavius]

5 lonely figures trudged through the knee-deep snow.

A week ago, they had left Trithik, hoping to reach Talinus in three days, having been supplied the finest mounts the resistance could supply. They should have returned to the ramshackle tavern by the River Trynd, and presented the target's head to Syro the Enchanter.

Since then, they had abandoned the mounts to the wild dogs, and their 7 other comrades to the goblins who preyed the road to Talinus.

Skocol was the first to see the figures on the road. He gave a loud yell and immediately, their weapons were out. In contrast to their ragged frames, the weapons they bore were of the finest make. Syro had assured them that the enchantments he had laid on them would pierce the armour that their target wore easily. Skocol hoped so. More than one assassin had seen his lifeblood grace the floors of the castle on the outskirts of Talinus because he had not realized that the target Skocol searched for wore his legendary armour even in his sleep.

Byron whistled, and immediately, ten horses rode up to the ten border rangers. The assassins were here, right where the Chief Diviner of the Grey Circle assured him they would be. How he knew, he cared not to know. But the assassins were going to commit murder, even though the man the assassins intended to kill would be better off dead. The border rangers swiftly mounted their horses and rode towards the assassins.

A gust of wind brushed by Byron's face, and he was thankful that he had proper winter clothing, winter gear that would shield him from the sharp winds of Tysian winter. Not like those rags the assassins wore, vestments that even the meanest beggar would have discarded in disgust. Too late, he saw the first assassin raise his arm and twist it back. He recoiled, but the blade was not for him. Mir halted, as a rusty steel hilt grew out of his chest. He fell from the horse, which then fell over as well, another rusty hilt sticking out of its chest. He drew his sword and urged his charger forward, while behind him, eight border rangers rode forward as well, prepared to carry out the orders of Thane Quarith, to save the life of Robert the Architect.

Skocol smiled. Zema's aim was good as ever. No band of do-gooder border rangers was going to stand between his assassins and the foul creature who had used the wealth gotten from his (mostly) illegal contracts to carry out a campaign against the resistance, which had destroyed three buildings built by the powerful Architect.

Zema lifted her twin daggers and then rushed at the man on horseback leading the charge. She had been skeptical when Syro claimed that these daggers would make her go faster, but she was going faster, faster than any mortal human. She saw the man on horseback's eyes widen and...

Byron screamed in pain, but brought his sword flashing down...

Too late, Zema noticed the whip which the other border ranger had swung at her when she gutted this one...

The sword came down onto the assassin's neck, sending her head flying across the field. Byron pulled the sword up, and wiped it on his tunic. He certainly did not have long to live, not with two holes in his abdomen. Still, if Jek hadn't lassoed the assassin's ankle with his whip and brought her crashing down from his horse, he wouldn't have been able to lop off her head. Still, he would go down fighting...

Skocol screamed with rage when he saw Zema's headless body tumble to the ground. Motioning towards Nolir, they then charged towards that man, first stabbing him at the same time in the chest and neck to finish him, and then taking out the man with the whip by throwing one of Zema's daggers. His aim was usually terrible, but the blade still landed in the man's neck, sending him to the ground. Nolir, at the same time, had used his spear to kill another border ranger, and then another...

Lon could not believe his eyes. First Mir, his brother, killed by a coward with a throwing knife. Then Byron, stabbed by that coward, and now...now him, when the man who'd killed Jek with a dagger picked up another dagger and threw it at his horse.

Skocol smiled slightly. Despite Zema's death, he'd managed to slay another ranger, this time by killing the man's horse. The dying, or maybe dead, animal screamed and then threw his load headfirst to the ground, breaking his neck and cracking open his skull when he landed on a rock. But then, a ranger holding a battleaxe charged him...

Telejara caught the man in the chest with his battleaxe, sending him to the ground. These assassins put up quite the fight. He stopped temporarily, but soon was moving again, when a man with a spear stabbed him, like he'd stabbed Hylewel and Tol.

Three and three, thought Uri as he downed the man with the battleaxe with his spear. Truth be told, he hadn't believed that Syro could make his old spear good as new, but he'd done more than that, he'd even enchanted it. Smiling, he stabbed a horse, and then stabbing the border ranger when he fell to the ground. Two and three.

Two bows twanged. A border ranger fell to Tag's arrow, but the other was only hit in the shoulder by Gat's arrow. It was a pity that Zema had lost her head and that Skocol had ended up with a battle axe in his chest. Still, these border rangers were finished, what with the only live one left being the one with an arrow stuck in his shoulder. Uri soon solved that.

Five days later, the three assassins left the castle near Talinus to return to Trithik. The mission was successful, and even if they'd lost nine members of their party, that only increased their share of the reward by four times.


"Well, Syro, I'm amazed. Robert the Architect is dead."
"Yes. It's a major blow to the King and his cronies."
"I suppose I ought to reward you."
"I agree."

Immediately, arrows flew out of the holes in the walls. Syro and the three assassins had not noticed them coming in, but then, they had not expected treachery. Not that he planned to expend forty thousand gold tokens on this lot anyways. He kicked Syro's head, which had an arrow sticking out of the left eye.

"Come in."

Nicholas walked in. He glanced at the bodies, and smiled.

"A pity you had to kill those assassins, but they would have supported Syro's bid for leadership. I suppose we're co-leaders now?"

"Not really."

To Tiralyn's great shock, the archers shot him and not Nicholas.

"Now, it's time to open the shadow path."

Magic curled around his fingers, and destroyed the desk that Tiralyn had been sitting at. It revealed a shadow gate, ready to be opened.

"And to think that he never noticed it. Now, elves, come out. We need to reopen the portal to my workshop. Rengol isn't Lord of Winter, not yet. That fool thinks he can separate himself from the clan, does he? Well I'll leave him to crush the resistance which has served me so well while I prepare to bribe the next generation into serving me with slavering devotion to their consumerist desires and round pieces of rare metal. MUWHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

"Um, sir?"

"I mean, bring toys to all the good little children and adventurers so I can outdo Rengol at his game. Yeah."

[Arik]

The first story has been posted by Zmflavius.

Congratulations for writing the first story!

[Badstench]

Thane Marindol has an unenviable task. As ruler of the souther provinces, he also plays host to the armies of Tysa. As such, he commands a police force that demands obesiance from soldiery just as much as citizenry.

Because of this, an arm of the constabulary was created specifically to deal with the exhuberances of soldiers. They are called, "Military Police!"

When a soldier commits an indiscretion, his punishment is to garrison the far south towers of "The Gap."

The Gap is a canyon that splits two mountain ranges, and offers a pass between Tysa and the South Broadlands. Beyond The Gap lies the great desert, and here dwell the ever-thirsty ogre-kin.

For a soldier to be tasked with the defense of The Gap is akin to admitting that his life expectancy will be drastically shortened.

It never snows in the southern provinces, though sandstorms blow and moonstorms howl. These are the tropics, where the sun is merciless and rainstorms arrive without warning. They call the valleys beyond The Gap, wadi's, for reasons unknown... but what is known is that many patrols have been lost because of a rainstorm that resulted in a flash flood.

An adventurer named Mordi once found himself sentenced to this hell-hole, and the fact that he became a deserter from the Tysian army can only be explained by the fact that the battalion he was a part of inexplicably disappeared after a particularly nasty sandstorm.

This happened during the celebration of a time the Ogre-kin call "Krissmiss".

*

Ogre-kin are related to the ogres sometimes encountered in the northern reaches of The Broadlands, but they are more stupid and far uglier. The King of the Ogre-kin went by the name of "Claws", which was both accurate and not. He wore a red turban... red because it was soaked in the blood of his conquered adversaries.... and so was his tunic, which was the hide of the furry hump-beast. He had fingernails sharpened to dagger-like shapes and teeth commensurate with meat eating beings... rather like fangs.

Mordi was a member of the 'lost patrol', the eighteen soldiers who were sent to reconoitre beyond The Gap.

The patrol was ambushed and captured by the Ogre-kin tribe known as the Krisschins (not to be confused with the Krosschins, the Limb-Danglers or the Chuks), of which Claws was the leader.

The short end of this story is to explain that Mordi was freed to return to Tysa to warn the Kingdom of man not to encroach on the realm of the Ogre-kin.

Said Sandy Claws to him after the other members of the platoon had been slaughtered; "Take your life as my gift to men. Tell them... we will not accept their presence south of The Gap. Tell them... they have my promise of peace if they stay north of the line."

*

Mordi reported everything Claws had said. His superior thanked him and told him to report to a new unit.

Mordi found himself a quiet place in the corner of a tavern in Graldok and thought, "I'm done"! And he slipped away from Graldok. He took his steed and rode north, as far from The Gap and the military and the threat of being sent southward... and he never looked back.

Two weeks later, he found himself opening a green door into a bar full of desperate looking men and women who didn't give a shit who he was. A severe looking woman sold him a mug of something called "hammertongue". He got drunk.

Two weeks after that, the military police knocked on the green door and asked if an ex-soldier by the name of Mordi was inside. He was AWOL, and they were there to fetch him.

Vurii scowled at the policemen and called to a person sitting at a shadowed table. "Fury? I need your assistance. These gentlemen have no jurisdiction here."

*

[Arik]

Another story has been posted––this one by Badstench, and a story seeming to tie into Badstench's Tales From Behind the Green Door. Congratulations to all who have written stories in this thread!

[texlaw1992]

The cold winter wind howled outside the relative comfort of the Griffin's Ledge in Trithik, just off Blade Square. Lance drank what must have been his fifth pint of Silvermark ale that day. He had received an Adventurer's Token at the bottom of his mug the first time he ordered it here, but despite ordering same again and again, he got no further tokens.

What's wrong with me, he thought. Here I am, one of the most powerful and famous adventurers in the world of Sryth, with a purse full of gold, yet no wife or girlfriend. Lance liked talking to the pretty girl who served ale at the Griffon's Ledge, but despite a great beginning to their conversation it always ended immediately when others came up to order ale. Lance felt tongue-tied trying to talk to anyone else here. Even wandering around the common room, he only ran into one guy who could not stop talking about watching your money at the casino, and that place had been closed forever due to some sort of murder. It was like nobody else at the Griffon's Ledge even existed.

Lance had undertaken missions with many attractive female fighters, mages and so forth during his long career in Sryth, but despite intimations of wanting to see him again, whenever he did they were all business. The closest thing Lance had to any sort of relationship was an actress he'd rescued during his early days in Hawklor. Still, every time he visited her in Talinus, she ended the meeting with a hug. A hug! Their relationship never seemed to grow, but remained like it was forever frozen, fated to repeat over and over every time he visited her.

Lance was glad there were so many monsters in Sryth. Given the testosterone level of himself and his fellow adventurers, if they did not have monsters to vent their rage and frustration, he shuddered to think of what might happen to his fellow citizens.

Those other adventurers, he thought, surely they understand how he felt. There were several attractive females among them, but for some reason he was constantly tongue-tied around these women. He saw several of them during battles against Ildaria, the Redwolf of Sageholt, Farmer Wurmwrit's pumpkin beast and so forth, but although they fought together it never seemed like they were truly in the same place at the same time. Even outside of battle, Lance would frequently walk into areas in which he was told there were other adventurers at that location, but usually no one was there. Even when other adventurers were there, all Lance typically knew were their names and the equipment they were carrying. They never spoke to each other, almost like no option existed for them to do so.

Sighing to himself, Lance emptied his pint of ale and got up to go to the pretty woman for another pint. As Lance reached into his pocket for a gold piece, his hand brushed against the "lucky coin" he had recently bought from the lady in Zumryn's camp. What a waste of 15,000 gold pieces, he thought, this coin was no more lucky than he was.

Oddly enough, the lucky coin started to feel warm to the touch. The more Lance held it, the warmer it got. Strange, he thought.

Lance stood in front of the pretty young woman and they exchanged their usual pleasantries. Suddenly, she looked up at Lance with bright eyes, almost like she saw him for the very first time.

Suddenly ....

She picked up Lance's Silvermark ale and spilled it all over his Master Huntsman's leggings. Oh, that's cold, Lance sputtered with indignation.

She took his hand in hers and said sir, we wouldn't want you catching cold. Let's go into the back and get these wet things off you. Lance looked up at her, and her eyes flashed with a mischievous grin on her face as she emphasized the word "off."

Zumryn, thought Lance, I'm sorry for every doubting you.

All-father, for what we are about to receive, may you make us truly thankful ...

[Young Ned]

Ah-hahahaha! Nice one, texlaw. :D

[Arik]

A third story has been posted by texlaw1992.

Again, congratulations to everyone who has written a story in this thread.

[thingirl]

I've been working on this for a few days, and I think it's ready. It is set after PG VI. The names of the family are taken from one round of the name generator.

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Two women were lying in the snow near the peak of Mount Maeltar. The older wore her long, brown hair in a braid and sported four pieces of Tallys gear: the Grinning Pumpkin Helm, a pair of Spider Web Sleeves, the Evergreen Leather Boots, and the Marauder's Wolfskin Gloves. The younger wore her long, white hair back in a ponytail and gazed up at the clouds with her green eyes.

They had been traveling to Kardsen for All-Thanks, a celebration about everything the All-Father has done. They had started at the older one’s palace on the west side of Barrow Loch, and then had found themselves in the small town near Wintereye Lake at nightfall. They had stayed the night in the only tavern, which also served as an inn. In the morning, tavern keep had asked them to escort a family of four to Kardsen. They had readily agreed and had set out an hour after. They had chosen to take a path around the base of Mount Maeltar.

Once the party had traveled about half way around the mountain, they had been ambushed by a horde of thirty ogres. The adventurers had not been overwhelmed, but they had to protect their charges. Five ogres had fallen when the women had realized that the family had been taken captive. They had followed the trail, but the ogres had been going too fast, and the falling snow had begun to erase the footprints. They had searched until they had come to the spot they were in. They were both exhausted and out of Nevernal Reserve.

After they had been there for an hour, the younger one rolled over and spoke. “Hey, Alanne?”

“Yeah?” She sat up to look at the other.

“Shouldn’t we try to find Zumearn and his family?”

“Yeah, probably, Myrenne. I mean, if they’re still alive, wouldn’t it be a shame if those kids got eaten by ogres? Ah shoot, I can’t remember their names.”

“Andiphu and Estiiphun. Their mom is Nasawim.”

“How do you remember that?” Alanne shrugged her shoulders, “Anyway, yeah. Now that we’re rested up, we probably should. Oh hey, I just thought of something. This is snow right?” Myrenne nodded. Alanne continued, “And since snow is water, it is an element. I can summon a Snow Elemental to help search! And you can use your tracking skills, sis.”

They searched high and low. Alanne summoned a Snow Elemental when there was a crevasse or small cave that neither woman could get into. Myrenne took notice of any broken branches or dents in the snow, but after an hour, they still hadn’t found anything. Alanne was getting frustrated. She turned around to yell at her sister, but before she could say anything, she saw a trail of smoke coming from somewhere above them. They decided to investigate.

The sisters climbed up the mountain and found that the smoke was from a large watch fire lit just outside of the entrance of a cave. IT was guarded by what looked like two new recruits, both clad in furs. The women hid themselves and listened to the grumblings of the guards.

“Why d we ha d be out in da cold when da oders are in dere hain a feast?” Said the bigger one.

The smaller replied, “Uuummm, ‘cuz we’re new?”

“I’m ana ge mad if dey don’d let us watch da kellin o da prisoners.”

“I thought that all six o them was gonna be boiled alive.”

“Six? I dought dhad dey only got four, dwo guys ‘n dwo girls. Ay, Garg wha-” But he didn’t finish his sentence. Alanne had heard enough to know that her charges were alive, and so she shot the two guards with her Grand Ashen Bow.

The girls looked into the cave. The main cave was fifteen feet high, forty feet in depth, and thirty feet across. The entryway was ten feet high, five feet long, and ten feet across. The entire cave was covered with runes, but most of these were covered with skulls strung up on rope strands of what looked like tinsel made from finger bones. There was a giant tree along the back wall that had a pile of weapons and armor under it. On either side of the cave, there were tables with all kinds of food on them. In the center, there was a huge black pot hung over a fire. It seemed big enough to hold ten humans at once.

There were ogres everywhere, most of who were either fighting over the weapons and armor or eating. Some were tending the fire under the pot, and there was a group of about ten large ogres surrounding what seemed to be the leader. Suddenly, the leader gave an order to bring out the prisoners and put them in the pot.

Alanne jumped into action. She fired two arrows at the leader and one at each of his bodyguards. Eight of the bodyguards fell, and two got an arrow in their right shoulders. The leader had two arrows stuck through him, one in his left shoulder, and one in his right leg.

Alanne drew her sword and charged. It was blazing bright silver as she cleared a path to the prisoners. Suddenly, she caused the shadows in the corners to dance up and throw ogres around like they were paper dolls. Soon, Alanne was dropping a knife so that the prisoners could free themselves. Soon, all four of the prisoners were free. They tried to get back to the entrance, with Alanne leading the way and the father and son guarding the mother and sister. They were almost to the exit when the leader confronted them.

“Oh good, one more puny human to add to the pot.” he said while leaning on his axe.

“I wouldn’t say puny,” Alanne replied, “I mean, a good quarter of your tribe is either dead or severely wounded. But, I get your point. You want to fight. Well then…” She stabbed him in the stomach.

His bodyguards joined in. Alanne jabbed at the first bodyguard and wounded him in the toe, but he retorted and hit her arm. Suddenly, she remembered something she learned while training and used it to get an easy shot in. She continued to spar with the bodyguards, and got an occasional blow in on the leader. Her sword gave her an unexpected burst of energy and she gave three quick, final blows to the first bodyguard. Alanne traded blows with the other bodyguard, but he did not go down so easily. She knew she was almost done for, so she reached into her pocket, took hold of her Quickstone, and was able to repeat a particularly awesome move she had performed earlier, which ended the other bodyguard.

All that was left was the leader. Alanne thrust at his neck, and he retorted with a particularly brutal stroke to her left arm. Things were not going well, so she took out the legendary Wand of Dragonfire and shot it at her foe. A deafening roar filled the air as a blast exploded from the iron wand. The ogre leader was consumed by the ravaging flames, and all but expired. Alanne finished him with one final blow.

The sight of the wand and what it did to the leader made all the rest of the ogres flee. Myrenne stepped outside of the cave and used the last of her remaining nevernal powers to awaken a monstrous snow elemental that either crippled or destroyed all of the fleeing ogres.

“Are you guys ok?” Myrenne asked as she walked over to her companions.

Alanne replied, “Yeah, I think they are. And I’ve been worse off…”

“Maybe you should try to heal yourself.” Myrenne replied and sat down.”

“But I don’t wanna. Fine.” Alanne’s wounds started to close as she moved her hands over them. “Hey, Zumearn,” she said when she was done, “how are you and your family doing?”

“Well, after being captured by the ogres, we were taken here and told that we would be the main dish for some celebration called ‘Chrems’ or something like that.” He shuddered, “Then we were shoved in a corner for two or three hours while they got the fire going and the water boiling, then you showed up. As for the fight, I have a slight cut on my arm, and looks like my son has some minor injuries on his leg. I don’t think my wife or daughter have anything to show.”

“That’s good.” Said Myrenne. “I think we should get going. Alanne’s done healing herself and more ogres might return. There’s a spot not too far away from here where we can rest up, then we can get going to Kardsen for the All-Thanks festival.”

[Young Ned]

Not bad, TG. :D It feels sort of unfinished, though -- is this part 1?

[wetheril]

I agree. Thingirl's story seems like it could use a sequel. The other stories were well-written too. I'm looking forward to the day of judging. :)

[Arik]

Stories in this thread can only take up one post. And I liked the ambiguous ending of Thingirl's story. :)

[thingirl]

I might do something with it later. Like maybe they get to Kardsen and find out on the way back that those ogres weren't just ogres... BTW, what word did I use to describe the markings on the walls? That's a hint as to what I'm planning.

[wetheril]

I might do something with it later. Like maybe they get to Kardsen and find out on the way back that those ogres weren't just ogres... BTW, what word did I use to describe the markings on the walls? That's a hint as to what I'm planning.

Well, I look forward to a sequel, even if it can't be in this thread. I'm guessing...

The runes have something to do with it?

[Arik]

It's time to judge the entries!

Of the four tales posted on this thread, I had some trouble choosing my favorite. But I will reveal the answer...

In several minutes!! :D:D:D:D:D:D

[Arik]

Finally...the moment you've all been waiting for...THE WINNER IS REVEALED!

The winner is...

Winter Under the Sun, by Badstench!

Close runner-up was "A Winter's Tale," by texlaw1992.

This sounds like butter-up, but it's absolutely true: I had trouble choosing my favorite. All of the four stories were very enjoyable.

One final congratulations to all who participated!

[Badstench]

Good golly!

My thanks to Arik for starting the thread. My acknowledgements go out to the other contributors; I read them all.

One small comment to make.... I have to acknowledge Mordi. The character in the story is a real Player-Character, and I neglected to ask his permission if I could use him.

Mordi will become part of the "Green Door" story, but that doesn't excuse me from taking liberties with his character. I just hope he understands that I will do justice to Mordi in the future.

As for the bits about Ogre-kin and the lands south of "The Gap", that was my own invention. It has no bearing on how the GM views his world.

[texlaw1992]

Well, if I had to come in second, better that it be to a "professional" writer. Well done Badstench as always.

[demojan777]

..years ago, a canyon deep in the Upper Felrundin Range west of Lake Ironrain..

..Triaana's sword glimmered bright, lighting swirling fog and constant falling snow that she & her companions had become accustomed to since their flight from Fogbough. Iago, the slight swift one dressed in darkest green, drew his bowstring. Llandra, the tall blond warrior in shining white plate, gripped her double-headed black iron ax tightly in her hands. Forming a triangle they faced outward, shoulder to shoulder, as mocking laughter echoed off icy canyon walls and a spinning wreath of shadow-smoke, wider than the The Cathedral of Silver Rain's pool, bled from the starless night sky, descending on them.

"Don't waste arrows, Iago," Triaana murmured as she drew a thin, cracked bone wand with her free hand. "Wait until you have a tangible target."

Iago snorted a curse and began speaking the words of a spell that soon had his arrow aflame. He was tired of Triaana reminding him of the obvious, but he couldn't really blame her; they were all tired of everything. Tired, cold, hungry, & harried to the seeming end of the world. In better times he would have put up with anything such a beautiful woman said to him, but better times were far behind them all.

"I see-ee-ee you, my faithless friends," crowed the voice that was laughing maniacally moments before, the vaunted velvet voice of the shadow sorceress who had hired the trio weeks ago in the back rooms of the Russled Grouse gambling hall to retrieve a seemingly worthless serpent's skull for nearly a Thane's ransom, half up front, the rest upon completion, and with Adventurer's Tokens no less. The coil of shadows tightened, the writhing blackness twisting & spinning in patterns of madness as it reached the snow-covered ground & surrounded its frost-bitten quarry. "You could have accepted the task & been done, but you believed the old fool!" The mocking laughter began anew, coming from every direction at once.

"Stop this cowardice & face us like a champion!" shouted Llandra, her usually tanned face now red, white, & raw from the blistering cold that they thought would cover their escape. Her fierce blue eyes blazed from a scorching scowl as she spun her huge ax in the air and caught it deftly with one hand, swinging it in a show of prowess then resuming her two-handed stance.

"Sure Solundor, goading a bunch of shadows into a fair fight is a genius tactic," Iago whispered mockingly. "Why don't you impress them by butting their ghostly forms with your thick head?"

"Enough," bit Triaana. The weight of their predicament was heavier than the cold on her slim shoulders. The recent initiate of the Grey Circle was not imposing in size as her companion Llandra was. Those who knew not of wizards ways would think her probably a noble lady in waiting or an actress of the Third House theater. The slight, slim brunette had long curly hair & large hazel eyes. Under a fine cold weather cloak she wore magic studded leather armor. Her magic gloves were fingerless, rubies studding the back of her hands in mystic patterns, a circlet of gold and emeralds shining under her fur-lined hood. Calling on the power of Necromancy she pointed the bone wand at the shadows and willed a part of the planes into a point in the snow...

Suddenly the ground exploded and snow, ice, and rock flew in all directions as a large crack opened at the point and darkness to rival the threatening whirlwind of shadows cascaded up and out. The darkness dissolved revealing a huge skeleton, the remains of some troll or giant type of creature that pulled itself out of the crevasse jerkily, as if not quite in time with the rest of life. The laughter stopped and the swirling shadows slowed and coalesced into hooded shapes, ten of them standing in a circle around the three companions.

As soon as he had a target Iago fired 3 flaming arrows into it, the first passing through but the other two finding flesh and lighting the shadow mage ablaze, as the skeleton, taller than 3 men standing on each others' shoulders, began slashing at the two on each side of it with claws like scythes. The shadow mage to the left quickly dissipated again in time, but his fellow to the right took three claws to the face and screamed in terror and pain.

"KILL THEM NOW FOOLS!!!" screamed the voice of their nemesis, the sorceress whose name they never learned, as she threw back her hood and leaped back with her hands outstretched. Her skin was the color of shadow, her hair the color of smoke, but her eyes were bright violets in pure white with cat-like pupils, and her fingernails ended in inch-long talons the color of blood. Lightning shot from them at the back of Triaana's head but Llandra leaped in its path and blocked it with her dark iron ax while yelling a spell of protection. She was just in time, but her spell was not as powerful as she had hoped and she growled in pain as her body shook with shock, her ax engulfed in blue electric sparks.

Two black-robed mages turned to smoke and were suddenly flanking Iago with long curved daggers plunging downward, but he jumped straight upward while leaving an illusion of himself where he once was and, as their blades passed through the air of his figment, he flipped backward catching each in the back of the head with a boot. They plunged each other's weapons into the other's chest simultaneously and fell to the snow-covered grown, red stains suddenly spreading out from their black wind-whipped cloaks.

Three surrounded Llandra & two flanked Triaana just as had did with Iago. So far the mercenaries had put four of their attackers out of commission; the sorceress & five of her minions remained.

"Six to go," grunted Llandra as she fought all three of her attackers in a whirlwind style, spinning wildly as she brought her ax to bear sometimes with both hands, sometimes swinging it or flipping it with one hand as she deflected the shadow mages' dagger attacks & caused them to leap out of the way of its sharp double sides. Triaana didn't respond as she was busy fighting one black robe with her shining silver sword, the other with a swarm of vampire bats from her wand. Iago & the giant skeleton fought the sorceress, who wielded a long black iron staff carved into tormented faces & spiked on both ends & dodged and struck like an acrobat while effortlessly sending shadow bolts & fireballs at the scout & the undead horror as Iago sent arrow after arrow at her while ducking & weaving.

"This is not what I had demanded!" the shadow-witch screamed & every mage dispersed into black mist & re-appeared surrounding her in a perfect pentagon. She thrust her staff into the snow with an ear-splitting shriek & all light within sight was snuffed out.

"Triaana!" "Llandra!" "Iago!" the companions all shouted at once in the dark but it didn't last as the shadows the sorceress had unleashed collapsed inward with the swiftness of light. Where the mages & sorceress had been was now a being a pure darkness larger than the skeleton Triaana had called, a being made of nightmares. As it took on sharpness the only color was its bright blue eyes & blood red talons, just like the sorceress, only instead of a woman it was a demonic beast with elongated limbs, digits, jaws, all sharp & askew. The mercenaries could only stare in awe as it shattered the skeleton with a back-hand.

"RUN!" screamed Triaana as she backed up. Llandra & Iago stood transfixed, hypnotized by the horror before them. Triaana swiftly muttered spells as she pulled up a sleeve on her left arm & drew a jagged edge of her bone wand along the inside of her ivory flesh, instantly drawing blood that the wand seemed to devour magnetically as soon as it bled from her veins. Her sword shook in her left hand, creating dancing shadows that mixed with the insane ambient light of the scene in a felicitous way. Twenty feet or so separated her & the shadow beast, her fellows about twenty to her left.

"I SAID RUN YOU FOOLS!" she screamed again as the shadow beast lunged.

Llandra & Iago suddenly snapped out of their trance at that &, as instinct took over, sped off up through the other end of the canyon, until they heard something that made them turn & look again.

The noise was a sharp "crack" like a boulder falling from a great height hitting the road as, with the shadow-thing just feet away, Triaana brought her sword down upon the wand she held out in front of her & cut it in two while slowly back-pedalling...

...Iago saw that directly behind her was the crack she had summoned the giant skeleton from, but as he opened his mouth the world lit up in a flash of white & then red like a supernova gone wrong, then he saw a blast of light brighter than the sun & red as the stained glass window in the Hawklor church shoot from Triaana & erase the shadow beast instantly, & then an explosive sonic wave erupted from Triaana's sword as she flew back and disappeared from view.

Everything shook as an ice bank hanging overhead became an avalanche that rushed down the cliff at them, & they turn and ran as steadily as the could as the trembling, icy ground buckled beneath their feet & the air burned in their lungs like scalding hot water. They ran for what seemed like forever until all was still.

Panting, Llandra & Iago turned back & saw only white at the bottom of the canyon, like what they had just witnessed was just a bad dream. They slowly plodded back to where they thought the fight occurred, hoarsely shouting Triaana's name, until they found her sword handle sticking out of the snow.

Until dawn searched until they had found both halves of Triaana's wand & what they could of the battleground. When they found the crevasse Triaana had created with Necromancy, it was sealed shut with solid ice...

...to be continued?

[demojan777]

Well, I don't know if my story made it, I started typing it on the 25th but didn't finish until after midnight.

[Arik]

Sadly, demojan177, you posted your story after the results had been announced. Good story, though.

[demojan777]

Oh! Sorry about that, I didn't notice that a winner had been announced. Whoops!

I guess I should read the entire thread before posting. I just read the first page and then posted.

:o

Grats, Badstench!