June Vignette

[Breaker]

This month's vignette will look int our characters' pasts:

Your character experiences a flashback to a scene from their past. What causes the flashback, and why do they remember that particular scene so vividly?

(Note: Please do not copy and paste your flashback from another thread. Flashback scenes should either be new material or a re-write of a previously existing scene.)

Enjoy!

[Hayate_Amatsukami]

On the day of my seventh birthday, I woke up to the rain was falling in relentless icy sheets. There was bustle of activity as handmaidens and servants alike passed through the halls of the Amatsukami estate. I could distinctly remember Shina rushing me out of bed and dressing me in my special kimono to start off the day. She seemed to be in a particular hurry this morning, carelessly rushing to tie the young lord’s sash to send him on his way.

“Alright now.” she said as she pushed me out the door of my room. “Your father is waiting on you in the pagoda. Hurry on now and don’t dilly dally.” She said it with a concerned look in her eyes masked by her usual sweet smile. I might have been young but even back then I knew that things were off. She never allowed me to go anywhere by myself.

As I walked through the halls I noticed that the servants all were in a big rush packing up many of the family’s belongings. They spared no time cramming anything of value they could find into large sacks on their back. Once I reached the large ornate staircase of the mansion everyone started to shoot me nasty looks like they had never seen me a day before in my life.

As hard as I try I still can’t remember seeing any of my family as I sought out my father. Where was everyone and why were all the servants acting so funny?

“Papa,” I cried now concerned that things were amiss.

When I reached the covered pagoda outside me saw my father and another man standing in dead silence. I remember my father was dressed in his complete samurai armor with their family’s sword Yamato hung at his side and the man he was speaking to also dressed like he was ready to fight. But when I called out his name my father, Lord Szayrus, didn’t respond. All he did was look back in terror seeing his son standing before the two of them.

“No…”

“It looks like your son has come to watch you die.” The man across from Lord Szayrus said with a snakelike hiss.

“You would dishonor yourself.” My father said as he placed a hand on his blade. “Hayate where is Shina?”

I didn’t answer.

“Your son’s keeper left him to die, I’m surprised he even mad it outside with how easily your servants were bought off. They must really have hated you. It’s a shame really, I figured taking out the Amatsukami would be a challenge but your men basically open the door.”

It felt like all the world’s weight sat on my chest as I listened to the two talking. I don’t remember for sure but my father acted like he knew the man. Maybe I’d seen him before when I attended the Shogun’s court, but to this day his name alludes me. All I could do at the time was drop to my knees as my world began to fall apart.

I watched as my father defended his honor and his family. He fought the would be assassin with everything he had and as a child I thought he was the strongest person in the world. My father always taught me to value ones convictions and the bonds that connected people. He made sure to teach me that you did whatever it took to try and protect these bonds. But on the day of my seventh birthday, I saw my father die.

It is still all a blur to me now. My mind must have tried to block out the more gruesome moments of that day but when I was told about it by the family who found me days later I still grow sick. Apparently a rivaling clan aiming to usurp the Amatsukami in the shogun’s court planned an assassination attempt on the main branch of the Amatsukami and my father died protecting me. No matter how hard I try to ignore it, this day still haunts my dreams.

[FennWenn]

Sometimes, when one was exploring, they found the most wonderous things.

Fenn stood in a field as red as mortal blood. Its color came not from anything that horrendous, however; it came from flowers. A wide, downy carpet of royal catchfly, cloaking dry Coronian prairie. Over in the distance, Daugi’s dark canid figure tore through the blooms, barking at grouses.

Fenn felt a little strange wading through the flowers. They were soft and tall, coming nearly up to his chest. A nectar-sweet scent wafted off of them. Their touch was gentle. Feeling as if he were in a dream — a feeling he knew very well from lucid dives into his actual dreams — he picked one of the slender blooms from where it grew. It was all very welcoming, and yet… the color here was too familiar too him. His breath caught.

Red. The opposite of green.

His first thought flitted to a very particular shade of scarlet. Red eyes and red hair, as seen through blackened iron bars.

Fenn shook his head as if to clear away the thought. The flower, he lifted to his nose, hoping to distract himself from the intrusion.

But he didn’t smell nectar.

~ § ~ § ~ § ~

He smelled iron, burning flesh, and his own sour blood.

His world shrunk to a square meter of iron bars and rust. The cold, black-grey ceiling of his cage loomed above him as he laid against the floor. Wherever his bare skin touched the cold metal beneath him, it burned, burned him to his bones. Burning had become its own numbness now. He barely felt the weight around his wrists and ankles now; more importantly, he didn’t dare to look at them and their charred, flaking skin. It was bettering that he didn’t move, anyway. What energy he had left could only spent on breathing.

He was pretty sure that something was going to give way to oblivion soon. The bloodloss. The burns. The dehydration and hunger. One of them was going to kill him. Why didn’t they just hurry up already?

He knew no-one was coming for him. Even his magic had abandoned him — he hadn’t generated a lick of frost for… however long it’d been since he had been abandoned here. Days. He was well and truly alone. But in his dreamy, barely-alive state, he had moments of uncertainty. Sometimes he imagined he saw shadowy silhouettes stirring outside the bars, in the derelict kitchen; sometimes, he thought he heard voices. These phantasms swarmed under his skin like ants. He heard breathing, but it was only his own. It was only Daugi. Was it Daugi? Was she still… there?

Sometimes, he worried that she was going to come back. Sometimes he worried that Amari wasn’t done with him. But no; those red irises were another wandering ghost. Another trick of his mind.

The boy shut his eyes to the ceaseless presence of the iron-grey ceiling.

~ § ~ § ~ § ~

Fenn opened his eyes and let out a deep breath. One, two, three, four…

His hands tore at the frost-flecked flower he held. He wished he could release it all as easily as plucking off red, red petals, and letting them scatter on the wind.

[Nosdyn]

~Present Day~

Nosdyn lived in Stonevale those days. He was trying to change his life and world-view on many matters. Prove that demons and men could live together in harmony. Mainly, Nosdyn was tired of fighting and running just for the sake of it. Nosdyn lived in a small camp outside of Stonevale. He interacted with the locals oft though and they'd given him a reason to live. A reason to fight for positive things. He was staring at a campfire for many hours when something happened.

He found himself thinking of his past...

***

"Father!" Nosdyn yelled as he readied his weapon. It had been deemed that Nosdyn and his followers had to destroy his old clan, his biological family. Back then, Nosdyn was far more ruthless and an ambitious young demon. He just wanted to serve to the best of his capacity. As he looked his father in the eyes, the man was stunned. He was still in bed as Nosdyn approached, sounds of fighting in combat throughout the Krotar House.

"So...it has been decided." His father said with a strange sense of calm. He had two women with him, also demons who rose out of bed in fear. His father stopped them. "Who was it that sent you?"

"I'm sorry. The Tribunal has decided that you must die." Nosdyn said carefully.

"You are young, Nosdyn. One day you will realize the error in following The Tribunal blindly. But I will not make this easy for you." His father slid out of bed, the two women staring at Nosdyn, shocked and talking with one another. HIs father carefully readied a weapon, a sword...and prepared to face his son. Outside, on the Krotar estate...fires were already burning as demons loyal to The Tribunal began to sack the estate, pillaging it. His father took a look outside of the windows in his room. "I hope this is all worth it for you."

"Stop. Talking." Nosdyn suddenly responded. He was already angry, he didn't like it anymore than anybody else did. It was the demon's way. When The Tribunal spoke, there was always hell to pay. Nosdyn readied his weapon and held the blade so it pointed off to his side. It was a magnificent weapon. "I'll give you the chance for first blood." Nosdyn said to his father.

"So be it." His father said.

He rushed forward, and began to swing his weapon, Nosdyn was already ready. Nosdyn reacted and soon it was over. He'd performed a mid-level swing towards his father and cut the man in half. There was a momentary look of shock and fear on his face, then his upper body slid off the lower half. Nosdyn proceeded forward to kill the two women who was with his Father. The Tribunal had spoken. Nosdyn knew that there was nothing he could do, but follow the orders of The Tribunal. As he walked out of the master bedroom, he slew any of his clan's servants he came across. The orders were absolute...The Tribunal said the old clan had to die.

And so they were killed by his own hands, especially his Father.

Blood seemed to flow everywhere...

Nosdyn saw blood and it had been a trivial matter up until that point. But it seemed to flow everywhere. It was splattered on the walls, on the floor, through the fire. Dripping, flowing, cascading. Blood was everywhere. His companions killed anybody they came across but the blood...it never stopped flowing. Nosdyn noticed that and for the first time in his life he stopped to think about what he had done.

"Father. Forgive me..." Nosdyn suddenly said out loud as he thought about the painful memory.

The blood never stopped flowing, and it was all on his hands.

Nosdyn cried silently in the night.

"Father...forgive me." He said over and over.

Somewhere in the dark, he could hear the laughter of his father's voice mocking him...

The blood never stopped.

Blood was everywhere and it had been all Nosdyn's fault.

The Tribunal had spoken.

[Lilthis]

Scratchy, dry bits of bread tumbled around Lilly’s mouth. Teeth tore into another segment of the bread loaf as her eyes completely glazed over. Sitting alone in the quiet restaurant in some backwater town left the dark elf alone to be enveloped by a snapshot of her past. The drow continued chewing and the taste of the stale tan bread jumpstarted her faraway memories of home.

Reminiscent thoughts of the quartz marbling laid upon the Shadefell’s kitchen floor penetrated Lilly’s mind. The smoothly tiled stone on the walls. The bright sheen of the black liviol table. And Tala, the maid kept on staff by the Shadefell family. Tala had gray hair tied taut into a bun. Her yellowed apron stained by countless meals she had prepared. Indeed, she was an excellent cook and her masterpiece was bread.

Her newest creation’s aroma filled the hearth and seeped into the rest of the room as the noble elf was seated at a nearby table. Once the loaf was removed from the kiln Tala took a brush caked in butter and coated the top of the baguette. The butter gushed across the surface like rain, streaming down the sides of the warm golden brown edges and glistening in the sunlight.

Once cooled, Tala cut two slices and presented them on a plate to her kitchen’s guest. An amber crust outlined the soft white core of Tala’s artwork. Beside the plate was a jar of mixed fruit preserves, also crafted by the estate’s maid. Lilthis always ate the first slice plain, the warm buttery bread was the utter pinnacle of baking. For dessert she’d spread the preserves over the second slice for a wondrous combination of sweet and savory.

Tala took a seat next to the younger woman as she finished up her snack. The older chef placed a wrinkled hand onto the smooth skinned hand of Lilly’s. Humans aged so quickly, Tala was barely sixty and already she looked so very elderly. The maid stared at the heiress with sullen brown eyes before opening her mouth and then closing it. Her forehead formed deeper wrinkles as she contemplated the words. The dark elf was not in the mood to wait, she abruptly severed the silence.

“What is it Tala?”

Another wrinkled hand joined the one currently affixed to Lilly’s. Tala spoke in a broken, hushed tone, “I just want you to know what a lovely girl you are Lilthis.” The Shadefell maid looked as if she might cry. “You need to be careful, stay near Faellint,” she offered. Tala moved in and fully embraced the slate elf, wrapping both arms around thin shoulders and pulling the girl in tightly. “Come back soon, when it’s safe.”

Normally Lilthis detested hugs. She was willing to make an exception this time. Tala had baked her specialty and taken Lilly’s mind off the looming departure. Tears streamed down darkened cheeks as slender young arms reciprocated the intimate contact.

“Thank you,” Lilly said weakly. She wasn’t ready to leave her home. Tala had practically raised her and humans truly did not live long. This very well could be the last time the two of them would be together. If only they could - -

Thud.

A hand slammed Lilly’s table inside the destitute restaurant, awakening her from her daydream. The waiter was young and seemed impatient. His irritation shone through as he asked the elf, “you need anythin’ else?”

There were no fruit preserves. No kind old women to comfort her. The floor was dusty and made of elm, not pristine artistic marbling.

She had lost a lot. Bad food was a reminder of that. Worse still was how the low quality meal forced her to think of loved ones she may never visit with again.

Lilly’s glazed over expression faded, she shifted focus to the young man. “No thank you, I’m alright,” she lied as she forced down another clump of the awful ‘bread.’

[loves.blessing.]

McKinley walked to the back door of her cottage. The last couple of weeks her and her love, Joshua had fixed her cottage. Joshua, also known as Thayneslayer, Breaker and many more Godly titles had been very persistent on an upgrade.

She tossed the door open, leaning against the door frame she let the thick summer heat greet her. The smell of freshly tilled soil perfumed the air. McKinley glanced at the garden she had planted. Little green buds had bloomed beautifully into sweet, delectable fruits. Her bright blue orbs cut over to the linens hanging out in the bright sun to dry. Her eyes watched as the fabrics billowed in the humid wind. Before McKinley knew it she was being sucked back into a similar scene but from many years ago and a completely different circumstance.

The day was hot, thick with heat. The moment she went outside it was like she had walked into a wall of hot, sticky humidity. Her orange brow collecting beads of sweat quickly. McKinley stopped to admire the wildflower garden that her Master had ordered to be planted next to the linen line. The sweet smell of lilies, daffodils and other flowers mingled in the summertime air.

The large wooden wicker basket perched on her slightly curved hip. She hummed a nameless tune as she started towards the hanging linens. Even in this sweltering heat, Kinley was overjoyed to be outside. Those stone walls that made up her “home” always felt like they were closing in on her.

Master Joel had specifically told her, outside to get the clothes and back in. No talking to anyone, no walking off and certainly no undermining his rules. Quickly she closed the distance between her and the linen line. Unclip, unclip, drop in basket and repeat. She was moving in record time in fear of getting more lashes from her cruel Master.

A strong arm snaked around her waist as she yelped softly to see none other but the serpent himself. Rupert. She whined softly as she wiggled against him to get free which only earned her groan from him. McKinley had dropped the basket of fresh linens as she tried to pry Rupert’s strong grasp from around her slender form.

“Please, stop Rupert!” Her voice dripping with plea.

“Shhh little dove, boss man is in his study and we have only a few minutes.” He purred like a feline in heat.

His hands wandered down her small form, gripping certain points along the way. Her heart clenched with fear as her bright orbs burned with unshed tears. She squirmed raking her nails against his forearms. He hollered out in surprise as she stomped as hard as she could on his foot.

“You bitch!” He growled.

His bald head heat with red color. McKinley anxiously scrambled away from him as he stalked towards her like a lion it’s prey. The redhead skittishly tried to pick up the wicker basket and go around him into the fortress. Striking as quick as a viper Rupert’s hand snatched her by her dress. The thin material easily ripping as she tried to pull away. The basket falling from her hands once more, spilling onto the plush grass.

“You are gonna pay for that you whore!” He hissed.

A hand was brought across her face. Her head snapped sideways from the force behind the slap. A mixture of saliva and blood spilt from her mouth that hung open slightly. Her entire left side of her face felt as if it was on fire. The heat radiating with pain the only thing that slightly cooled it was her tears.

“Rupert please..” She begged.

One of McKinley’s hands cradled her cheek the other holding the shreds of fabric that was her dress. The bald man’s hands were close as his knuckles white with pure hatred, aimed at her. Before he could land another blow a booming voice came from the side door.

“What in bloody hell is going on here Rupert?”

The both quickly looked as Master Joel stalked towards them. McKinley whimpered shrinking down. Silently she hoped he wouldn’t see her.

“Boss!” Rupert gasped shocked as the large bearded man closed the distance.

Joel’s dark eyes narrowed on his right hand man. “Answer me, boy!”

Rupert flinched as he was Joel’s senior but the man out ranked him. The bald man began to sweat, pulling at the collar of his shirt. “She tried to grope me and when I told her no that I was loyal to you she attacked me!” He exclaimed holding out his arms that had fresh claw marks on them.

In a whirl the tall, broad chested bearded man snatched McKinley up by her red locks. She cried out in a mixture of shock and pain. “Please Master, that isn’t true!” She pleaded. His grip to the root of her hair as she cried out when he pulled her close to him.

“Since you defy your Master now you will be disciplined.” His voice laced with anger.

A strong hand landed gently on her shoulder as she was brought back to reality. She yelped softly as a deep chuckle filled her ears. “I’m sorry my love, you seemed lost in thought. Where did you go? I was calling your name for a while.” Joshua Cronen wrapped her large arms around her slender waist as he peppered her neck and cheek with kisses.

McKinley sighed with relief as her tense body relaxed against her love’s touch. “Somewhere I never want to be again.” She turned glanced at the linen line, the clothes billowed in the breeze. As quickly as the memory had washed over her it left her. With each kiss Joshua showered her with she felt the life she had once lived wash away.

[The Rambler]

Henry flicked his shirt into a corner of his rented room, beside the small wooden-framed bed. It was a cheap room, but he was a wandering minstrel, and one who often didn't bother asking for money. He accepted gifts, but he played to spread the joy of music that he felt, not because he wanted to make money from it. It was a hot, sweltering day in the middle of summer, and outside the air hung hot and heavy with moisture. Henry had been playing for the last few hours, but it had finally gotten to be too much, and he had retreated inside, to finally get into the shade, and to switch out of his sweat-soaked clothes. It was the first time that he'd been in the room, and he looked around as he stretched - and froze, his eyes widening.

The musician had a problem. A problem that he did his best to mitigate to its fullest, and never think about. Down the center of his chest was a long, ropey scar, tugging at the skin around it as it hung on his flesh, ominous and bleak. He tried to avoid looking at it - he avoided mirrors for just this reason. In fact, usually requested rooms that didn't have a mirror in the room at all. A bit odd, but as mirrors were expensive, it was usually overlooked as a musician trying to stay cheap. Apparently, though, the person who gave him his key and sent him upstairs had either gotten mixed up, or been trying to be kind to him, because there was a large, ornate mirror against one wall, above a desk with a chair in front of it. Henry's slender, muscled body shone in the light coming through the mirror - and his scar stood out in stark contrast with his pale, pale skin.

Henry trembled once, - but then there was a scream outside, in the distance. It didn't matter what the scream was - a child playing, someone laughing in joy - none of that mattered. The scream, the heat, the painful tugging on the scar as Henry's mind swirled -



"Honey, honey you need to stay inside the closet ok? Please, sweetie, stay inside for mommy." A gentle, frightened voice tried to distract the young boy from the sound of voices screaming outside. The young brown-haired boy shivered, as the soft, warm hand of his mother shoved him into the closet of their small house. Over her shoulder, the boy could see his father standing at the door - the wide-bladed pokey stick that he was told to never go near held tightly in the man's hands. The boy flinched as another scream sounded out - this one far closer. And now he could hear yelling, angry angry yelling. The door that his father was standing in front of shuddered under an impact, and his father gritted his face.

"Honey. Stay in the closet, and stay quiet. Please." The woman successfully shoved her son deep under several blankets and cloaks, muffling the world around him. He thought he heard the door close - it was blocked by the fabric around him. The blue-eyed boy could feel hot tears welling up in his eyes as he curled under the blanket, pulling it tight around his face as he heard the yelling and thudding outside. He didn't know why people were so angry - they'd been yelling for a few days now, but but -why? He didn't know why?

It was so hot, so sticky in the small closet as he huddled and cried under the clothing, waiting for his mother to come back for him. His face was getting wet with tears and snot, buried deep as he tried to keep his crying silent. He didn't know what was -

Crack The sound shattered the silence that he could hear. There was a scream, another one - then an angry yell, fury and rage.

"Get out of my house!"

"I think not. We have things to requistion here. Need to fund the war effort, you know."

"Get. OUT." The boy didn't know what was going on, but his father was yelling at someone, with the super angry voice that he had only heard once when he tried to play with the really bright and warm place when it was cold outside. There was some muffled sounds - then another scream. This time, a voice the blue-eyed boy recognized. It was his mother. He couldn't - he couldn't stay any more.

"MOMMA!" He burst from the closet - to a terrifying sight. His father was thrown against one wall, with a large, burly man standing in front of him, holding a sharp thing to his neck. Beside his father, his mother was doubled over, red spilling onto the ground. The boy rushed to his mom, tears streaming down his face. She looked to him weakly, her eyes unfocused as he hit the ground next to her. He could see that the red was coming out of her tummy, where he sometimes had tummyaches.

Momma rubbed his tummy when he had tummy aches, right? He started doing that, rubbing his tiny little hands against her tummy, trying to push the red back inside. His mother reached up with a trembling hand, brushing brown bangs aside with a bloody hand - leaving a streak on his forehead.

"Oh, honey, no..." Momma fell over, and the boy tried to hold her up. There was a muffled sound, he didn't see what was happening.

"Boss!"

"Oh, just kill him. His wife is already dead." There was a grunt - and then a heavy thud. The brown-haired boy couldn't keep his mother up, and fell beneath her - and saw lifeless, glassy eyes peering back at him from his father's face. He felt his heartbeat once, heavy in loud in a sudden silence - and then he started crying out loud, bawling, tears pouring down his face unobstructed. "And will someone shut this kid up?"

There was some shuffling - and his mother was pulled off the boy. Above him was the large, burly man. In one hand was his mother, who wasn't moving anymore, and the red was still coming out - and there was more red on the shiny thing the burly man was holding. The boy didn't know what was going on - but the stranger threw his mother to the side. The child tried to get up, to crawl to his momma - but his hair was grabbed and yanked sharply, lifting him to his feet and then into the air. Then his chest was hot, really, really hot - and when he looked down, the red was coming out to, and the stranger's shiny thing was going away from him.

"Alright. You boys find anything?"

"Nah boss. Only thing of value was the spear, and some small jewels. Fake, the lot of them."

"Damn. Well, leave the bodies here."



----

He didn't know how much time had passed. He did remember being really, really cold for a while. Shaking hard, cold all the time like he would never be warm. Voices, muffled and blurred - shouting, then calm and soft, trying to speak to him, but - but they weren't momma, they weren't poppa, and he didn't listen to strangers. So he ignored them and stayed in the cold, for a long, long time.



Henry let out a gasp, a shudder running over his body as his knees hit the ground and he retched, bile splashing against the wood beneath him. His body shook hard, his fingers scrabbling at the wood as he tried to keep himself from landing face first in his own vomit. It had been - a long, long time since he'd had that memory thrown in his face. He didn't need to check to know that tears were streaming down his face. It was the only time he remembered either of his parents - the only memory of them he had. He threw himself back and sat against the wall, staring up at the ceiling with blank eyes.

[Yvonne]

With the oldest city in Raiaera far behind them - beyond the hills and valleys of a north-west bound road - Lillian and Yvonne persuaded their horses to brave a forgotten mountain trail. The slender path ascended into the peaks of Emyn Noeg, twists and turns circumnavigating summits above and ravines below. A dangerous detour yet better that Alerians take the empty road, slowly and steadily, than push their luck on the busier road to Mirdan Timbreth.

No telling when one of their potion-induced disguises might begin to fade and another renewing sip would be needed to preserve their illusion. If the effects of a potion elapsed in the presence of travelling high elves or hill dwarves, their nationality would be revealed and who knew what would be done with them then. Surrounded by bitter enemies on all sides they couldn’t chance a slip up of that sort - instead they risked the mountain range.

From these majestic heights Yvonne’s argent eyes could still see the port city of Beinost at horizon’s edge. The city which had drawn Abel away from her years ago still dredged up a flicker of contempt in the hybrid. She knew it to be an irrational, selfish emotion to feel for a city, but without knowing who had called the caravan master away and subsequently left her behind her feelings had nowhere else to go.

Lilly guided her black mare around a bend which turned the trail back on itself, that emerged onto a ledge above Yvonne and her chestnut palfrey. The abandoned path had served them well until crossing that gods-forsaken ledge.

The rocky outcropping couldn’t support any weight. The shelf cracked, split away from the rest of the mountain. Hooves slipped, equine-knees buckled and panicked instincts urged the horse and rider to make a last-ditch effort. They shinnied and bounded to solid ground before it all gave way.

Yvonne gazed back to Lilly, only to catch the first stone with an eye socket. A landslide of debris rained down upon the hybrid and her mount. The motion of raising her trembling arms to protect her face triggered a memory of the very same.

~~~

“Now! Do it now!” Ninnal commanded. “I want to see her bleed!”

“We’ll kill tha mongrel bitch we will!” Embek shouted, hurling the first stone with all his dwarven might.

A skull-rattling impact interrupted her petrified scream. Her awareness blurred as she swayed on her feet, turning away. A rib shattered with a sickening splintering sound as a second rock took her by the exposed side, dropping the child to her knees. A third rock broke against her jaw and she shrieked in pain, spitting blood and loose teeth. She coughed up more blood and another tooth caught in her throat.

“Yes! Did you see that? I hit her right in her face!” Ninnal bragged as his delighted laughter filled her ears. “There’s no way you two can outdo that!”

“You think so? Watch this!” Tacin disputed. The dark elf picked up a bigger rock and Yvonne panicked, starting to hyperventilate as she curled into the foetal position. He threw with precision between her shielding arms, the rock pounding her neck. She made a choked, struggled utterance and clutched her throat, bursting into fresh tears. She couldn’t draw breath. She couldn’t breathe.

“Wow, lucky throw,” Ninnal admitted. “No way you can do that again.”

Red-faced from lack of oxygen and adrenaline surging through her veins, Yvonne got to her feet though struggled with the agony of her ribs. She ran for it, fingers hovering, trembling over her side. Another solid impact struck her in the back and knocked her to the ground again, grazes shredding her hands and chin.

“You think you’re allowed to run from me!? You can go when I say you can go!” Ninnal stated, kicking her shattered rib and getting a blood-curdling scream out of her for his effort. “Embek, pick her up. Hold her.”

“Hasn’t she had enough Ninnal? She looks hurt bad…” Tacin tried to interject but Embek followed directions, lifting her from the dust as she wailed and cried in pain. He held her arms behind her back so hard her shoulders throbbed. She tried not to thrash but the other two boys picked up more stones - Ninnal made certain Tacin kept going. She caught another above the brow and squealed, gritting her bloody teeth. The other walloped against her chest and she cried out helplessly.

Yvonne never felt so angry. Her vision red and nothing more. She brought her knee to her chest before kicking backward like a furious mule, driving her heel into Tacin’s groin. He crumbled immediately to his knees and roared in pain but he refused to let her go.

“Break her legs Embek,” Ninnal suggested, sneering at them from a distance. The ringleader’s deadly serious voice struck the hybrid with another panic attack. Embek’s hooking fist collided with the side of her head, knocking her aside like a rag-doll.

The dwarf lifted a boulder and instead of throwing it slammed it down over her right leg. Yvonne screamed her throat raw and bloody, no time to recover before another savage boulder-beating broke her left leg bone. She shrieked again but no sound escaped her. Nothing but sobbing and silence as she writhed in excruciating pain.

The abusive bullies continued to throw their stones and Yvonne flinched and jerked, but never again did she scream. Soon enough she stopped reacting altogether - her eyes glass, her broken body beaten, bruised and covered in blood. She ceased to feel, ceased to think. She closed her eyes and welcomed the darkness. She accepted the pain. Every new stone seemed nothing more than she’d already experienced.

She waited. She waited for the end.

~~~

“Yvonne,” a distant voice whispered vaguely.

The hybrid didn’t dare open her eyes. She would give them nothing. No reaction. No pain. No expression.

“Yvonne!” cried a familiar voice, nearer and clearer.

She opened one eye a sliver to see what was going on. Lilly climbed down from the broken shelf and dropped to the lower path beside her. Looking up the mixed breed could still see debris…

…floating… motionless. Rocks levitated above her head, above her defensive arms.

“YVONNE! Get out from under there!” Lilly yelled at her. She hesitated, not moving. The pure-blood took Mead’s reins and led him toward the bend on foot, bringing the traumatized rider along with him. As his hooves clicked and clopped with movement the boulders floating above them gradually descended and fell, a slow motion landslide drumming and thumping over the mountain trail and rolling down the mountainside.

“How-- how did you do that!?” Lillian shouted the question, guilt and excitement in her voice.

[Breaker]

[Use of Fenn permitted by FennWenn.]

“Good, Fennik. Pour your energy into the cold, and push back.”

The little fae and I stood ten paces apart in my dojo in the Akashiman village of Yutori. The diminutive fellow nodded and screwed up his buggy green eyes. The cloud of snowflakes levitating between us shifted in my direction. I pressed back with my mind, forcing Fenn to flex his arcane muscles. He redoubled his efforts and shoved the swirling cold toward me.

The frost struck my hands.

~*~

My hands struck the frost as I landed on all fours. The force with which I’d thrown the mythril arrowhead had splayed me atop the rough mountaintop. It did not matter. I had hit my mark.

The King of the Tiered Mountain lay in a stony snowbank, gurgling as crimson gushed out the wound in his throat. His ichor stained the white blanket surrounding him, drawing an expanding pink halo to celebrate his demise.

I crawled on my hands and knees to Kristina Rythadine’s side. She lay still as a fallen statue where the mountain king had dropped her. Her back was broken, the upper half of her body twisted around at a horrifically wrong angle. The bastard had snapped her spine just as I’d exited the mouth of the tunnel. I’d arrived in time to avenge her… nothing more. She still breathed, but she was as good as dead. I could not carry her all the way through the tunnel back to Knife’s Edge. In her condition, she would never make it.

“Nina,” I whispered as I cradled her head. “He’s done. I killed him.”

“Heartbreaker,” she gasped, and blood bubbled on her lips.

She called me Heartbreaker. It had been my nickname since we met in service to the Salvic Special Forces, and her father, the alchemist who had created my boots.

“L-looks like,” she uttered, “I’ll be the one breaking your heart, after all.”

Her auburn hair fanned out, giving her a more angelic red halo. I wiped the blood from her lips and kissed her one last time. To remember the battles we’d won and lost together. To remember the passionate nights we’d spent together. To remember the future we’d never live together.

“You can’t break my heart,” I chuckled, a tear sliding along my Y-shaped scar. “I’m the breaker.”

“So sorry to-” she said, and then she slipped away.

Snowflakes fell around us, melting on my sweat-streaked face, melting on Kristina’s blushing cheeks. I stayed until those cheeks went pale, until the snowflakes that fell upon her stopped melting. I stayed until she and the mountain king were both buried, and frost piled atop my shoulders.

Finally I stood up and walked to the bloodstained mound that was the mountain king. I placed a black metal boot against his hip and shoved him off the precipice. He would not share a resting place with my lover. I entombed her in stones, erecting a cairn around her to shield her from the elements and keep her memory alive. It seemed the best thing, far better than bringing her back to be burned along with all the other casualties of Salvar’s civil war.

~*~

Fenn was poking me in the kneecap. The frost between us had faded, and with it, my memory. The little mute shot a concerned look at me, the question clear in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” I said, blinking and patting him on the head. “Just a little brain freeze.”

[Closed for judgment.]

[Breaker]

June 2018 Vignette Judgment

Current Music: Take Me To Church by Hozier

First of all, thanks to all of you who came out to play in this month's vignette contest! I love seeing this many entries, and while I know this prompt was particularly appealing, I hope all or at least most of you will be back for July's contest.

Alright... it was incredibly difficult to pick the first and second place winners this month. Many of you wrote creative, properly composed flashback vignettes with solid mechanics that delved into your characters' pasts in interesting and purposeful ways. I had to be very critical of these entries in order to put one in front of the other, so congratulations and great work to all of you.

Hayate
Use of topic: While this was quite clearly a flashback scene, the prompt expressed a need to understand where the flashback originated. In other words, it would have been beneficial to start with present-day Hayate and flash back to seven year old him, however since this improved your overall brevity I wasn't too bothered by it. I like the fact that you used the topic to do a little digging into a significant moment in your character's past, but I think a few more details would have made it even more interesting. Seeing one's father murdered, while the mind might block it out, it might also preserve several images, and going in that direction could have proved more valuable in terms of the story you told.

Creativity: This seems like a well-established scene from Hayate's past, and a well chosen one at that. The idea of a flashback isn't just to show a scene form the past, it's to pinpoint a pivotal moment, and you definitely did that. I enjoyed your descriptions of the Akashiman estate and your use of the servants to express the tone leading up to the main action. I do feel like having some specific images from the battle would have helped the vignette have more punch though.

Mechanics: There were a lot of mechanical errors, ranging from typos to homonyms and everything in between. Overall your writing seems very educated, so I don't think I have to tell you where you went wrong, I think you likely just need to put more effort into re-reading and editing your work. Try doing this out loud, it can be incredibly effective for spotting errors.

FennWenn
Use of topic: This was technically a perfectly composed flashback, including a scene beforehand, a trigger point, and the scene afterwards. I did take some issue with the way you began the flashback, however ("His world shrunk to a square meter" might have actually read better as "His world was a square meter" because it plunks the reader right down in the flashback) and I don't think the italic text was necessary in addition to the dividers. That said, I thought your use of setting to set up the trigger was beautiful, you managed to situate me quite well in the scene with only a short few paragraphs before diving back in time.

Creativity: You definitely picked a pivotal moment for Fenn to flash back to, and the means of doing so was very effective. I had the scent of flowers in my mind, and that changed quite suddenly to the thought of bloody iron. As I mentioned above I thought you had great use of setting to bring both scenes to life, and you managed your words very well in keeping this brief and to the point.

Mechanics: I only noticed one or two small errors that slipped past your proofreading "What energy he had left could only spent on breathing." Just a small missing word. Great work, keep at it.

Nosdyn
Use of topic: You had a clear setup to your flashback, although the transition back into the present day was a little muddy and difficult to understand. I liked the choice of a pivotal moment to flash to, as this was clearly something that would set Nosdyn up to become the demon he is today.

Creativity: Overall this scene did feel a little cliche; you flashed to a combat scene of your protagonist killing his father. That said, you did make it your own and I appreciated your unique take on this classic plot twist. I really like the choice to push your character to an emotional extreme and seeing how he responds.

Mechanics: Your mechanics were actually pretty solid, keep up the good work in this area, your efforts are appreciated.

Lilthis
Use of topic: I really loved the way you picked a seemingly simple, mundane moment for your flashback, which was actually incredibly significant to your character's storyline. The simplicity of it drew me in, and then the weight of it really made me feel the "thud" that brought Lilly out of her reverie. This is another really strong vignette entry, I hope that you'll keep smashing these.

Creativity: The intense use of the sense of taste to center the reader in the present and then skip to the past was both creative and well employed. As I mentioned above, I also liked how at first it seemed like such a simple moment, but then it developed to hold significant weight. You also did a great job of developing relatable characters quickly, which is part of what made the jump back to reality so shaking. I don't usually like changes of font and type size, but I actually found both fairly effective in this vignette.

Mechanics: -Should have been "Her teeth tore" in the second sentence
-Said "alone" twice in the third sentence, which reminds me I'm reading

loves.blessing.
Use of topic: You win for referring to Josh as the Thayneslayer. Congratulations!
Just kidding. Can you imagine if I was like that? You picked a great scene to flash back to, and a unique and character-oriented way of getting there. I thought your setup and takedown from the flashback were both strong, and the use of italics to differentiate was appropriate and effective. You picked a scene that really brought out a significant chunk of Kinley's past, and brought it to life vividly.

Creativity: I thought the way you transitioned into the flashback - with the laundry waving in the wind - was very elegant. You did a great job of bringing the scene to life with Kinley's senses, especially the pain she felt when struck. You really made me feel for your character, and I liked the way you left the flashback on such a dismal note but then brought Kinley out of it to a happier time in her life.

Mechanics: I only noticed one or two tiny errors, good work mechanically!

The Rambler
Use of topic: You really went after your character's heart in this one, flashing back to a horrendous scene from his formative years. The flashback was properly composed, and the reason for it occurring was also clear. The use of italics was also effective in differentiating between the two scenes.

Creativity: On the one hand, this scene is a fairly obvious choice for this character, but on the other I do feel like you took a classic idea (parents murdered before your eyes) and effectively made it your own. I do think you could have tightened this vignette up quite a bit by showing instead of telling in certain places, and by settling for a little less detail in both scenes. I thought the flashback scene was quite powerful, and I felt sympathy for kid-Henry, so then when you had man-Henry vomit and collapse it felt almost like a hat on a hat. While those symptoms may have been medically accurate for severe post traumatic stress (I have no idea if they are) it may not have been the strongest choice creatively.

Mechanics: You used "to" instead of "too" towards the end of the flashback, said "heavy in loud in a sudden silence" and might have had one or two other instances of typos or word misplacement, but overall good work considering the length of the piece.

Yvonne
Use of topic: The way you transitioned into the flashback was a little on the nose (actually saying it triggered a memory), and I'm not sure you needed both dividers and italics to differentiate the scenes, but overall the flashback was well composed and well triggered. You chose both scenes well and found a clever way to bridge them while keeping contrast between them.

Creativity: While I enjoyed your descriptions of Raiaera and the detailed personalities of the bullies, I think both could have been condensed significantly in order to make this more of an appropriate vignette length. Would you have had all the same content? Probably not, but you could have still brought the setting and the bullies to life without going into quite so much detail. Overall though I thought you chose your scenes well and gave them both a great showing.

Mechanics: I'm not sure if this is technically incorrect, but I think "The shelf cracked, split away from the rest of the mountain." Would have read better with "splitting" or "and split" instead of just split. Might just be personal preference, I'm no grammar expert. Other than that I think your mechanics were pretty much perfect, well done.

I had to go back and re-read several of the vignettes in order to pick the winner and runner up... but in the end, the awesome power of the Wenn won the day.

1st Place: FennWenn
2nd Place: Lilthis

Well done both of you. Both of your vignettes were thoughtfully composed, and delved deep into your characters' pasts while maintaining brevity strongly in mind. I look forward to more in the same vein!

Rewards

Hayate_Amatsukami receives 150 EXP and 100 GP!
FennWenn receives 800 EXP and 300 GP!
Nosdyn receives 200 EXP and 100 GP!
Lilthis receives 240 EXP and 250 GP!
loves.blessing. receives 150 EXP and 100 GP!
The Rambler receives 100 EXP and 100 GP!
Yvonne receives 200 EXP and 100 GP!
Breaker receives 1000 EXP!

Well done all.