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M002
word count: 303
There is a realm he has seen before, only once, a dream within a dream. He remembers a soft inky darkness broken by the bright moon and the pinpricks of starlight that seemed to be disproportionately bright. He remembers a wall. A gate, three times as high as he is and guarded. He remembers the faint scent of flowers on the wind - nightlilies, for sure, he thinks - and the rustling of willow trees. In this dream, he never manages to see past the wall or get through the gate.
But this is not a dream.
The gates to the Kingdom have fallen, and the man passes unhindered. Those who might stop him are nowhere to be found. He steps through the gates onto a simple path of pale luminescent moonstone. It is night, the moon is high overhead and the nightlilies and starflowers bloom with a gentle glow; it is as they say, these gardens are truly more beautiful by moonlight. Ydeu looks around and takes in the sight but he does not stop walking. He staggers, almost as if his body is too big for him, and drags himself forward. He passes through the dark swaying grass and past the flowers. The moon falls on his back and catches on the edge of his blade as it drags along the ground creating an ugly furrow of dirt and shredded plant debris and half-congealed blood.
He stops for a moment at the edge of the lake. Ringed by pale flowers and reflecting the stars, it is beautiful. Calming, even. For half a moment Ydeu seems to have forgotten his anger, his warlust. But it is only a fleeting moment and he forges on straight through the water towards the columned island where the rulers of this realm reside. The waters part around him.
M003
word count: 300
The garden is gone.
In the midmorning sun, the waters of the lake are no longer dark and unfathomable. They are receding, drying up perhaps. He sees now, clearly, the bottom. The upturned riverstones and the scorched chunks of columns that lay in muddy water. There is meandering line of crushed grass and flower and overturned dirt that ends abruptly at the shoreline. Ydeu knows that if he draws a line between there and the spot he is standing it will be straight. He rises and the joints in his legs creak with displeasure, and the muscles of his arms strain and burn. His hair is matted with blood and sweat and dirt. When he looks around him, there are no bodies. There are blood splatters large enough to paint the ground in browning splashes of red. But, save for Ydeu, there is no one else here. They are gone. Gone as the moon is gone and the night is gone.
Without the moon, the garden has begun to dry up and curl in on themselves. The plants lose their luster and begin to lose their color and vibrance. The willow trees lie bare, their skeletal branches swaying in the wind. There are no bones, and yet, Ydeu imagines that he hears the clink of knuckle bones against each other in the wind. With the moon gone, the flowers have all died. There are no nightlillies or starflowers here any longer. Ydeu casts a golden eye around him and watches as the plants shrivel up in front of him. He reaches out to touch the blackened petals of a nightlily but it crumbles to dust in his hand.
He leaves the way he came, through a gate wrenched open, and behind him the realm crumbles to dust, and then, nothing.
word count: 303
There is a realm he has seen before, only once, a dream within a dream. He remembers a soft inky darkness broken by the bright moon and the pinpricks of starlight that seemed to be disproportionately bright. He remembers a wall. A gate, three times as high as he is and guarded. He remembers the faint scent of flowers on the wind - nightlilies, for sure, he thinks - and the rustling of willow trees. In this dream, he never manages to see past the wall or get through the gate.
But this is not a dream.
The gates to the Kingdom have fallen, and the man passes unhindered. Those who might stop him are nowhere to be found. He steps through the gates onto a simple path of pale luminescent moonstone. It is night, the moon is high overhead and the nightlilies and starflowers bloom with a gentle glow; it is as they say, these gardens are truly more beautiful by moonlight. Ydeu looks around and takes in the sight but he does not stop walking. He staggers, almost as if his body is too big for him, and drags himself forward. He passes through the dark swaying grass and past the flowers. The moon falls on his back and catches on the edge of his blade as it drags along the ground creating an ugly furrow of dirt and shredded plant debris and half-congealed blood.
He stops for a moment at the edge of the lake. Ringed by pale flowers and reflecting the stars, it is beautiful. Calming, even. For half a moment Ydeu seems to have forgotten his anger, his warlust. But it is only a fleeting moment and he forges on straight through the water towards the columned island where the rulers of this realm reside. The waters part around him.
M003
word count: 300
The garden is gone.
In the midmorning sun, the waters of the lake are no longer dark and unfathomable. They are receding, drying up perhaps. He sees now, clearly, the bottom. The upturned riverstones and the scorched chunks of columns that lay in muddy water. There is meandering line of crushed grass and flower and overturned dirt that ends abruptly at the shoreline. Ydeu knows that if he draws a line between there and the spot he is standing it will be straight. He rises and the joints in his legs creak with displeasure, and the muscles of his arms strain and burn. His hair is matted with blood and sweat and dirt. When he looks around him, there are no bodies. There are blood splatters large enough to paint the ground in browning splashes of red. But, save for Ydeu, there is no one else here. They are gone. Gone as the moon is gone and the night is gone.
Without the moon, the garden has begun to dry up and curl in on themselves. The plants lose their luster and begin to lose their color and vibrance. The willow trees lie bare, their skeletal branches swaying in the wind. There are no bones, and yet, Ydeu imagines that he hears the clink of knuckle bones against each other in the wind. With the moon gone, the flowers have all died. There are no nightlillies or starflowers here any longer. Ydeu casts a golden eye around him and watches as the plants shrivel up in front of him. He reaches out to touch the blackened petals of a nightlily but it crumbles to dust in his hand.
He leaves the way he came, through a gate wrenched open, and behind him the realm crumbles to dust, and then, nothing.
Featured in Groups
ydeu's berserk form is ... not safe for work... but its okay because he lost half his power because someone stole his sword.
tally
+5sp for quest (x2) = 10sp
+2 st for quest (x2) = 4st
+1 tcg booster (x2) = 2 boosters
writing points update adjustments +2sp (for bonus 50 words from each prompt)
tally
+5sp for quest (x2) = 10sp
+2 st for quest (x2) = 4st
+1 tcg booster (x2) = 2 boosters
writing points update adjustments +2sp (for bonus 50 words from each prompt)
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