Vignette Contest: March

[Slayer of the Rot]

All right, before I fucking forget again.

The third Vignette Contest is here. The rules are as follows:

1) One submission per character. Multiple accounts by the same author are allowed.
2) Please make your posts during the duration of time allotted. Editing your posts is permitted so long as they are edited within the contest's month.
3) The moderator judging the monthly vignette contest will post a vignette at the end, but will not be eligible for a prize.
4) Only on-topic vignettes will be considered for the prize. The topics are meant to be broad enough that no character should be particularly limited.
5) PCs must be involved in all vignettes. How "canonical" you choose to have the events of the vignette is up to you.
6) All participants receive 5% of the EXP they need to reach the next level. The top three finishers get 100, 75 and 50 GP respectively.

I'm the moderator in charge of this month’s contest because I'm awesome.

All right, this is going to of course celebrate one of the best holidays of the year, St. Patrick's day. Also, something about Jesus, I don't remember. The prompt for the month is as follows: You wake up up after a night of heavy drinking. The past twelve or so hours are a complete, absolute blur, so obviously, you're going to be coming to a few surprises.

Or, if you like, you may write about the night of drinking.

Enjoy, people.

[Godhand]

Jesus Christ what a horrible feeling. Godhand awoke, thankfully, in his own apartment. Usually when he woke up with these kind of headaches he was lucky to be at the bottom of a dumpster. Now I know that sounds weird but it's better to be at the bottom. There are a lot of weirdos out there; a lot of freaks. The kind of people that would harvest the organs of an unconscious man they found in the trash. But when you were at the bottom of the heap, with all the plastic bags filled with scum protecting you from the snow and the psychos then things were almost alright. Almost.

You were still in a dumpster, after all.

But that wasn't how it'd turned out this time. Even smashed beyond any conceivable understanding, he'd still had the presence of mind to fish his keys out of his pocket, tremblingly open the door and collapse upon the bed. He was pretty proud of himself.

Making his way over to the kitchen, he soon agonizingly set to work mixing the usual stuff. He added in the pepper and brandy but dumb fucking luck, he broke the yoke pouring all the stuff into the bottle. He started over then. One teaspoon of Worcestershire sauce, one teaspoon of apple cider vinegar, one whole raw egg yolk, two dashes of hot sauce, a dash of salt, a dash of pepper, a shot of brandy and then pour it all into a wine bottle. The yolk remained intact this time, to his relief. Then came the worst part. Godhand shut his eyes, held his breath and pounded the nefarious concoction. Even though he didn't breathe for a good fifteen seconds, no small task considering the fact that every moment without air made his pounding headache worse, he still gagged the second he inhaled and the full taste of the hangover remedy kicked in. He gripped the counter tightly and willed it to stay down.

Ghastly. Ghastly!

Exhausted, he walked back to his room, shut the blinds and went back to bed. He'd be useless for the day.

[Rayse Valentino]

I don't usually write in the first person, so I'll let this contest be my attempt at it.

The ice twirling around the cup as I shake it, bobbing in and out of the liquid. I took the drink to my mouth and smelled its sweet fragrance. My throat burned as it went down, my tongue dancing in delight. 10-year bourbon, he said. It tasted like 50-year.

"Good shit, huh?" he asked.

"Yeah" I answered with a mellow, satisfied grin on my face.

Best bar I've been in. Better than any of those back in Knife's Edge. I felt like I could just sit at the counter and let my troubles wash away. Sometimes, it's nice to just sit down and admit that things aren't going too well. Business wasn't coming in, I had nothing to do, and I had no idea what was going on back home. Don't know how long I've been here. Time's just wasting away.

I told him it was real good. Best bourbon I ever had. He seemed real pleased at this. Told me that nobody around here knew how to appreciate a good drink. To savor it, smell it, just enjoy it. All they cared about was getting drunk. I can't really take the compliment, as I was just here for that exact reason. I felt pathetic after that comment.

I told him, "If I ever get my own place, you can have the bar."

Just trying to sound cocky. Injecting some self-confidence in-between the sips. I asked for another shot, and he gladly obliged. What is it that I'm supposed to do out here? I used to think I had it all figured out. Now... I'm not so sure. So many things have happened, and everything I thought that I had I lost. Now I'm sitting here, and the only thing I got is this business card. A new business like any other, trying to get started without any connections.

I don't know how long I sat there, but eventually things got blurry. I must've been kicking those drinks back-to-back. The bartender wisely looks at me and tells me that I should get going before I'm too gone to go. I wondered where the time had gone as I got up and paid my bill. I looked like the very definition of sober, but somehow that bartender knew how blasted I was. Bartenders were good at that kind of shit, and I never understood it. What it was like sitting there and letting all kinds of people tell you their problems. I didn't tell him nothing, but it felt like he knew. I felt a little better knowing that, and I knew that the next time I walked in there I would be different.

Once I got out the door, my pace went to shit. In the dead of night, I was trying to find my way back to my hotel room. The cobblestone streets of Radasanth felt so different from the murky streets of Knife's Edge. At some point, I stopped knowing where I was going, and I knew that I wasn't gonna make it. It's a pitiful feeling to know you're too drunk, to have your body not listen to you. I could only see the bright lights of the city lanterns, the glows they cast that intersected each other, and the light reflected off the ground. Each step I thought I was gonna collapse. What could've been? Was Knife's Edge still going to be there when I got back? Was I right in leaving it all behind? I didn't expect to be so homesick. I hated the place so much, each day I wanted out. Now... I'd give anything to see those walls, those rows of houses where people crowded. Then I'd know Dan, Neil, and all the others were okay. My vision flickered and I started to lose my balance. The ground came up to meet me.

We all have our days when we just want to unhinge ourselves and let all the past troubles out to make room for new ones.

That was yesterday. This is today.

[Raimeiken]

Nightfall.

Darkness crept upon the sky with ever greedy fingers, stealing the light from the sky and decorating the violet canvas with twinkling fairy dust. Below the approaching night sky, Radasanth became a wondrous glowing metropolis.

But whatever the place, two wanderers travel the candle-lit avenues looking for a place to rest their head.

"Hmm, this place looks like a good place to stay at."

Setsuna glanced up at the sign hanging above the door of a well-kept building, the image of a bird standing within the cresent moon jumped out to her almost immediately.

Raven's Nest, is it? Sounds like a good place to say.

While the maiden was wary of public houses, they had no choice but to find one or sleep in the fields otherwise. In a land where they knew neither of the dangers that lurk in the night, spending some of their hard-earned gold for night-time security was a fair trade-off she could afford.

"Master Konoka, let us go inside."

[hr]

The Raven's Nest looked far more comforting than the rugged exterior had been led to appear. With the sound of violin playing lightly in the background, the bar and dining area seemed almost unreal compared to the four others Setsuna had scouted out earlier that day. Perhaps it was because there were only seven patrons in the entire establishment, or because that everyone looked to be in their fifties.

Either way, it was a very quiet place, even for a bar.

The serenity was almost unnerving, Setsuna felt a knot forming inside her stomach as she walked in behind her master who skipped up to the bar with a smile on her face. The maid swept her eyes at the seven others in the room, her eyes meeting each and everyone as if thinking of the same thing.

Her hand tightened around the white scabbard.

"One room, please~" The red-hair foxgirl made a request at the counter, giving the large bearded man a handful of gold coins in exchange for a key.

This place... The black Kitsuna, however, remained unnerved. ...too quiet.

She had been through too much to relax. Demons attacked out of nowhere before. Robbers had snatched their money purse more than once, cumulating to the thief being beaten the senses out of them by the black Kitsuna.

"Hey, Sets-chan. Are you alright?"

Setsuna jumped at the question, abruptly turning to see Konoka with a glass of water in her hand. The smell was odd, however, coming off a bit too fruity than water should-

"I ordered a drink for us and the Barmaster said these are on the house. Isn't it great?"

Setsuna immediately realized it was not water.

"N-No! Master Konoka!" The genko shouted, but it was too late to take the drink away from the young foxgirl.

"Mm... deeelicious..."

Oh, no...

[hr]

"Ungh~ My head..."

Morning came with the clear songs of the lark under the dancing rays of sun shining through the apple tree outside the bedroom window. The cool morning breeze swept in and toyed playfully with the curtains, flirting with the bedsheets where a young foxgirl sat holding her head.

"What was that thing I drank last night, Sets-chan..."

Setsuna could not help but giggle as she prepared a wet towel, bringing the cloth to her young master and laying it on top of the red-hair girl's head.

"I believe it's called vodka, Master Konoka. It's very popular in Salvar, but there aren't many who serve the drink back at our country."

The black-hair maid watched with a coy smile across her face as Konoka eased herself back in bed.

"Don't worry, Master. The hangover will go away in a few hours."

She knew it for a fact - after all, she had been through the same thing the first time she had sake back home.

[Hashi]

Bonnie Green-Eyes

Warning: Adult content, drunken lewdness and general naughty behavior.


It was after dark but she still wore her sunglasses. The tint wasn’t that dark so she could still see in the light of the street lamps. The boosted vision in her left eye helped. Not that she really needed to see to get to the pub. It was one of those places that Hashi visited when she just wanted a drink and a laugh. Not one of her regular prowling grounds. Most of the usual suspects still remembered her, even after she’d vanished for almost three years. She’d still be able to find some friends here. After all, Akai Hashi wasn’t the kind of person one could easily forget, even if you tried.

The Fiddler’s Neon Green didn’t look like much from the outside. Hashi could already hear the loud music as she reached for the door handle. To a passer-by it looked like a tiny little pub nestled between an abandoned travel agency and condemned Chinese restaurant. The glass in the windows and door had been painted a solid dark green. Only the name of the place and the flicking neon beer signs let you know the place was even open. The music that leaked out onto the street was energetic and heavy on the synthesizer, the words of the female lead singer barely distinguishable inside, much less on the street. Pulling open the barred glass door she stepped quickly inside and closed the door behind her. It was easy to tell first time visitors to The Green because they had a tendency to stand in the doorway and stare. While not obvious from the outside, the pub owner had bought both lots on both sides and torn down the walls. So the interior was three times as large as the exterior suggested. Centered in the single large room was a huge rounded bar that was almost as long as the room. It had a wide counter and the center was open with five barkeepers bustling back and forth along its length. Against the far right wall was a raised platform with a jumbo-tron screen like concerts used, that reached from floor to ceiling. Right now it displayed the platform in front of it in a much larger scale and already drunk patrons were amusing themselves by finding out where the camera was and waiving their hands in front of it to fulfill some long held dream of showing up on the big screen. The area around the bar in the center was littered with tables, while the left side was cleared out and lit with multicolored spotlights. A few couples already out on the dance floor, though the center raised platform was empty for the moment. A few hours and drinks later there would be girls up there, doing whatever they pleased. It was also the place they held the wet t-shirt contest every second Thursday.

The djinn had decided to dress that day in one of her more tame outfits; a pair of black jeans; a white t-shirt with the same GUESS logo and a matching black jean jacket of the same brand. A pair of high heeled black dress boots rounded out the outfit. Her blue hair was pulled back into a high ponytail but she had braided the end and a few glittering green glass beads glittered as she turned her head. Though there were so many bizarre hair colors in the crowd, an a few normal ones that looked quite strange in the colored spotlights, that no one gave the djinn a second look as she waded through the tables towards the center of the room. The song faded just as Hashi approached the bar, leaving a few brief seconds of silence before the next, almost indistinguishable, song began.

“Bonnie!” The word rang out in the moment’s respite and Hashi glanced around for the owner of the voice. A man with flaming red hair, that was actually quite natural, was waiving at the blue haired girl with the arm that was draped around his girlfriend’s shoulder. The girl was blonde, her eyes a little vacant. Hashi couldn’t tell if that glazed look was from the brown liquid that slopped out of the glass in her hand or the white powder she hadn’t bothered to wipe from her nose. Realizing that her boyfriend was waiving, she started to waive it the same general direction, spilling even more of her drink in the process.

“Liam!” Hashi replied, waiving back and threading her way through the crowd at the bar to approach speaking distance with the man. He gave her a one armed hug without releasing the girl in his other arm, probably because she would have simply fallen over without his support.

“Where you been, girl?” He asked, flagging over the barkeeper.

“Oh, around and around. You know how it goes.” Hashi answered dismissively, turning to the barkeep. “Whiskey and Guinness, and keep ‘em coming.”

“Was wondering if you were going to show up this year.” Liam pulled a cigarette from his pocket it lit it. He first offered it to the djinn, who shook her head, before taking a long drag from it himself.

Any further conversation was interrupted by the squeal of a microphone. All eyes turned towards the big screen, which was now flashing with a white and green logo that read in huge letters 17th Annual Bonnie Green Contest!

“Welcome, welcome!” A voice boomed over the speakers. A man leapt up onto the platform, dressed in a green tuxedo with a green top hat and cane. His hair and even eyebrows had been dyed green. “To those new to the competition, this is when all our patrons try to prove that they have the most bonnie of bonnie greens in our own sweet city! Who wants to hop up first? Show off your own bonnie green, right here!”

The starting pitched finished, Hashi turned away. She picked up the drink that the bartender had brought while she was watching the show. The whiskey when down in a toss of her head, then she picked up her beer and sat down on the bar stool, facing away from the counter and just watching the crowd through the tint of her sunglasses.

“Not gonnna watsh shhe contesht?” Slurred the stoned blonde.

“No need.” Liam answered for her, patting the blonde on the head like a puppy as he winked at Hashi. “Our little Bonnie here always wins, that’s why we call her Bonnie.”

The djinn answered with a wide grin before turning away to study the crowd once more. It was always more interesting to watch the crowds reactions to the antics on stage than to watch drunks climb up one after the other and do something stupid. It usually started tame enough. A green hat here, a green shirt there. Some raver chick who had painted her face green or goth boy who had taken a break from dying his mousy brown hair black to turn it green for the contest. As the night wore on, more beer and liquor was downed and the faint of heart scurried home to make their curfew, things got more… interesting. The requisite drunken girl with a green bra and man with his shamrock boxers. Hashi did turn to look at the stage when one girl showed off how she’d dyed her pubic hair green and trimmed it in the shape of a four leaf clover.

It was after midnight and the contest was just beginning to wind down when Hashi noticed a figure further down the bar. His hair was a spiked black, the kind that obviously took an entire bottle of hair gel to keep it at that unnatural angle. Guys like that always thought they were so damned cool, but Hashi hated it when they did that. It turned them into prickly little porcupines and took away all the fun of running her hands through their hair. He was dressed sharply in a white shirt and black slacks, looking a little out of place among all the black leather and fishnet of the normal crowd. Next to him stood a rather nervous looking girl with the pretty kind of brown hair and liquid brown eyes that couldn’t disguise any emotion that passed behind them. She was dressed in brown slacks, a white button down shirt and a short brown chick tie, and amusingly enough, a brown silk top hat. She was cute. Hashi couldn’t help wondering what she was doing with an asshole like Sebastian.

“Hey, what’s he doing here.” Hashi asked Liam. He was paying absolutely no attention to her, so she had to poke him in the ribs to get him to look away form the stage. “I thought Sebastian wasn’t welcomed here.”

“Yeah well theyas liftsted the ban whiles you were ‘one.” Liam slurred in answer, almost as drunk as his lady friend by that point. “He’s’n asshhhole but he drops’ome mashjor doughs here soas they let ‘im back.”

“That sucks.” Hashi answered, glaring at the spiky haired man from across the room. “I hate his ass. Bastard.”

“Yoush better get on sthtage afor them closh the contesht” Liam said, pushing the djinn roughly out of her seat with a slap on the back that felt like it broke her collar bone.

“Okay, okay!” Hashi laughed and blew the drunken man a kiss before making her way up towards the stage. As she was threading her way through the tables, she suddenly found herself in a spotlight. She just grinned and made her way to the front.

“Well well, if it isn’t our own Bonnie! It’s been a few years since this beautiful lass has graced our humble contest with her presence. Get on up here and let’s find out if you still have the bonniest green in all of Blackfield!”

Hashi rested one hand on the corner of the stage and leapt up, eschewing the steps. She straightened and moved to the center of the stage, playfully resting a hand on the center of the announcer’s chest and pushing him out of the spotlight. He said something rude off mic and she showed him her middle finger in answer, a playful grin softening the wordless insult. Turning back towards the crowd she posed for them once. Those who had no idea who she was booed her and her apparent lack of anything green. She blew the crowd a kiss before turning to look directly into the camera, stepping closer to it until her face dominated the huge screen behind her. Grabbing the corner of her sunglasses she pulled them off slowly, keeping her eyes closed. She waited until the crowd quieted before opening her eyes and winking at the crowd. There was a moment of silence at her unnaturally bright green eyes, orbs that seemed to shine with their own inner brilliance and showed no hint of any brown or blues. It didn’t matter if they were contacts or if she was just some slicer capitalizing on her color of choice, they were in fact, the greenest eyes ever seen in Blackfield. The cheer that erupted was deafening.

“It seems that our returning champion has proven once again, that our very own Bonnie Green-Eyes indeed has the bonniest of bonnie greens! Let’s hear it for our winner, Bonnie Green-Eyes!!”

Hashi grinned at the camera before pushing it aside and leaping off the stage, landing on the counter of the bar a few feet away. She landed on one knee and rose slowly. The nearest patrons of the bar cheered her and a few whistled their admiration. The djinn rose slowly and began to walk down the length of the bar. The drunks hurried to get their glasses out of the way, since the intoxicated blue haired woman made no effort to avoid kicking the ones in her path as she made her way down the long counter. Men, and even a few women, yelled at her as she walked by. Some were invitations, some obscenities, some questions about her heritage or upbringing. Hashi ignored them all.

She didn’t stop until she reached the stool where Sebastian sat with his latest girlfriend. Turning on her heel she knelt in front of the girl, knocking away whatever fruity little drink with an umbrella that he had ordered for her.

“You don’t want to drink that shit.” Hashi said, though she herself was well on her way to drunk she managed to keep her words clear and her tone level. She gave the girl her best winning grin and sat down on the counter, her legs dangling off the edge as she leaned back on her palms and ordered over her shoulder. “Eric! Two Gentleman for me and the lady here!”

“Jack deuce for two pretty girls.” The bartender echoed as he poured two shot glasses and sat them beside the djinn on the bar. Hashi picked up the first one and tossed it back with flair. The second she held up, offering it to the girl. The brown eyed girl looked at it for a long moment and then tried to imitate Hashi. She just ended up choking on the strong liquor. A few nearby patrons started laughing but Hashi silenced them with an angry wave of her hand and glare in the general direction the laughter had come from. Eric sat down two more glasses and Hashi downed another drink. The second she held up to the girl, but pulled it back when she brought hand up to take it. The djinn shook her head. The brown haired girl frowned in puzzlement. Hashi held the glass up to her lips and the girl drank, cautiously this time, as the blue haired girl tipped it slowly back. She managed to get most of the liquid down but some of it trickled from the corner of her lips. Hashi wiped it away with her thumb and licked the digit clean with a grin. The brown haired girl blushed. The djinn grinned wider.

Eric thumped down two more glasses. Hashi emptied the first shot glass but didn’t swallow, grabbing the other girl’s short tie and pulling her close, forcing her tongue in the other girl’s mouth and allowing the whiskey to enter as well. The girl swallowed on reflex, then coughed as the liquor burned down her throat. Hashi kept her grip on the girl’s tie, keeping her face close. “Want more?”

The brown haired girl glanced nervously at Sebastian, who looked very angry to have been shown up by the djinni in front of the whole bar. Hashi spared him a glance and superior smile before turning her attention back to the girl. “He’s an ass. Ignore him. I can show you things he’s never even dreamed of.”

The brown haired girl nibbled at her lip, then reached around Hashi to grab the remaining shot glass of whiskey. Her hands shook a little bit as she gathered her courage and drained the glass before wrapped her arms around the blue haired girl, initiating another liquor laden kiss as one of the onlookers gave an appreciative wolf whistle.

///

Hashi groaned, cursing under her breath as she rolled over. She flung her hand out, waking up a little more as her fingers encountered something warm and soft. She opened one eye and found herself staring at the chest of a brown haired girl wearing only a short brown neck tie… that was tied around her left wrist. That got both her eyes open. She sat up and held her head in both hands, waiting for the wave of dizziness to pass.

All but falling out of the bed, she didn’t bother to reach the pile of her clothes on the floor. She wandered out of the bedroom naked, heading for the bathroom. She pulled her hair over to one side of her neck to hold it to one side as she emptied her stomach into the toilet, wiping down the seat for good measure before flushing. Returning to the bedroom she fished a travel toothbrush out of the small emergency kit she always kept in her back pocket and washed the taste of vomit out of her mouth. She didn’t even bother brushing her hair but shoved the travel case back into the pocket of her pants before heading towards the kitchen. She stared bleakly at the coffee maker for several long moments. This was normally the part where she made herself some coffee, took a quick shower and got the hell out before the girl woke up. She’d had a lot to drink the previous night. Even for her. Not at the bar, of course. She knew her limit in public places. It was just that in addition to a cash prize for winning the contest, the owner had given her two bottles of Baileys. Both were now empty on the girl’s nightstand. She didn’t remember drinking them. Honestly, she couldn’t remember much past leaving the pub. Actually now that she thought about it, she didn’t remember leaving the pub either. Shit. Didn’t matter if she did something stupid and got herself killed. But it would have been a damned crying shame to kill a cute little brown-eyed beauty like that.

Ignoring the coffee maker, the djinn reached for the bottle of ibuprofen on the counter. Dumping out a fist full, she swallowed them all. She didn’t give a shit about overdosing at this point. Hell, it was probably the fastest way to cure the pounding headache. Opening the refrigerator, she helped herself to a long drink of the carton of orange juice inside before stumbling back into the bedroom. The chick was a nice girl. She wouldn’t kick the djinni out. There were worse places to sleep off a hangover. Hashi slid back under the covers and stretched out on her back, staring up at the slowly spinning ceiling as she waited for sleep to reclaim her. What was the girl’s name….?

[Elijah_Morendale]

--The Rotten Morning After, Side A--

It was the morning sunshine filtering through the white lace curtains that woke me up. Slowly, I rose from the empty bed, rubbing the excess sleep from the corners of my eyes. My head felt as if it were ten times as heavy as it should've been--I could remember going to the bar for a drink the night before, but nothing after that. Almost reflexively, I grabbed my jeans off the rough carpet below me, shimmying into them to cover my near nakedness. Eyes still not wanting to open, I clawed through the air until I found my shirt haphazardly draped over a nearby chair.

I stumbled over to the window and threw open the curtains, hoping that the amber glow of the sun peeking over the rooftops of Radasanth would wake me up. The blinding brightness stung my eyes, insulting them with the notion of functioning properly at this reasonable hour. My headache, manifested by a night of heavy drinking, no doubt, joined in with the complaining. To shut the lot of them up, I put a hand up to deflect the sunlight--but something wasn't quite right.

My hand. It was bandaged. A neat little strip of gauze was wrapped around the palm of my hand, a pale red splotch sitting in the middle of it. My eyelids suddenly snapped open as I stared at my hand. It was then that I realized that, hey, this wasn't my inn room.

First of all, and I kicked myself in the teeth for not noticing this when I got out of bed in the first place, this room had a carpet. A thin beige carpet, but not the hard oak floors of the room I rented out for the time being. Second, my bed was supposed to be a twin, not a queen. And the blankets were supposed to be olive green, not some horrendous pastel floral print. Lastly, I specifically remember there not being a giant oval mirror hanging over the--

What's this thing around my neck?

As I took a couple steps closer to the mirror, the white blur took definite shape.

It was another bandage, tightly wrapped around my neck.

And on the left side sat a thick red line. Blood.

Oh, dear.

Cold sweat was pouring down my forehead as I ripped the bandages off. As anyone could've guessed, there were deep cuts on my hand and neck. The outer edges were still caked with blood and beginning to scar over. Yet, whether it was my hangover masking the pain or something else, the wounds didn't hurt as much as they should have.

Behind me, I could hear a familiar, feminine, sadistic chuckling. I whipped around to see Nadia, my imaginary friend and part-time ne'er-do-well lying on the crumpled sheets of the bed, wearing nothing but black lingerie and a smile. Her fire red hair was scattered all over the pillows, messier than usual. Euphoria was all but exploding out of her eyes as she stared at me with that demonic smile of hers. A long silence filled the room. "Nadia... What did you do last night?"

Her voice was almost melodic. "Why, my dear, prude Elijah, I just decided to have a bit of fun in your name. Is that so bad?"

I held up my bloodied hand for her to examine. "What did you do last night," I asked her again, my voice darker in tone, my expression grim. The fictional redhead pointed at the dresser. I turned to see a damascus dagger tipped with blood, along with several glass vials filled with a thick red liquid. I could feel the color drain from my face as I turned back towards Nadia.

"Foreplay," she added with a museful sigh. "Serious business."

Suddenly, the door burst open, the sound of wood slamming against the wall not helping my headache. I winced in pain as I laid eyes on the intruder. She was a few inches shorter than myself, and had a thin mop of black hair that went down to her shoulders. She was a scrawny thing, her black blouse top and jeans barely hanging onto her bony joints. A look of emotional decimation was written across her pale face, her sharp features contorted in something between anger and fear. The woman, who was new to me at least, glared at me with her bright blue eyes.

I felt weak and uneasy, as if I was going to collapse at any moment. I slowly made my way towards the window, in case there was sudden need for a daring yet foolish escape. "Uh, g-good morning, uh--"

"Madison."

"--Madison." I tried to crack the patented Elijah Morendale Smile of Intended Friendliness, but she wasn't falling for it.

"Get out." Her voice was as cold as her steely gaze. I felt a sudden urge to comply--from what I could piece together, she had used the knife in the dresser on me already, and probably wouldn't mind using it again. Keeping my eyes locked on her, I slowly stumbled my way over to the chair I--Nadia--threw my jacket over the night before.

The scary, disheveled woman quickly reached behind her, producing another dagger as she stepped into the room. Her bony knuckles were turning white with rage as they curled around the hilt. "I said get out," she repeated with enough venom to fell half of the city. I should have grabbed my jacked off the chair and ran for my life right then and there. I really should have done the logical thing and listened to her, but...

"Hey, my memory is a bit fuzzy... Could you please tell me what happened--"

Before I could finish my sentence, the raven-haired scarecrow lunged at me, dagger outstretched and aimed at my throat. "Whoa," I shouted as I quickly ducked out of harm's way. Madison started screaming at me, some sort of frustrated unintelligible gibberish that accompanied every swing of her weapon at my face. Deep inside my head, Nadia was cackling with sadistic glee--I was pretty sure that the scuffle was exciting her even further.

In one smooth motion, I ducked underneath another frantic slash and grabbed my jacket off the chair and threw it at the crazed woman to buy myself some time. As I predicted, she swung her arms and knocked it out of the air. The distraction took long enough that I was able to encase my fist in a small layer of ice. Madison's eyes went wide with surprise as I fired off a punch to her chin.

I closed my eyes--I had no intention of seeing myself hit a girl like this, even in self-defense. There was a sickening crunch, followed shorty after by a nasty thud. Then, silence. After a few seconds, I dissipated the ice and reluctantly pried open one eye. On the floor sat an unconscious Madison, crumpled up inside her own clothing and bleeding from one corner of her mouth. I drew closer to her body, just to make sure she was out.

Nadia's voice echoed in my head. "You want to know what else we did last night?" I dreaded to find the answer to that question. "Take a look at the inside of her arm." I could feel the psychopathic woman's grin widen in my subconscious.

I gently slid the dagger out of her hand and turned her arm over, like a good little boy. Running four inches down her arm, dangerously close to her vein, sat a cut that was beginning to heal over.

"No," I muttered in disbelief.

"Yes," my other self replied, a hint of pleasure in her voice. "She tasted so good, too..."

I dropped the arm and stood up, taking a few steps back. I was overcome with a sudden urge to get the hell out of the woman's bedroom, before she came to and wrecked me for whatever else Nadia did in my name last night. I turned to pick up my jacket off the floor when a soft moan sent a chill down my spine. I turned to see that the Madison was coming to.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit, I thought to myself as I slung the denim jacket over my shoulders and flew out the open door.

"Aww, are we leaving so soon? She was fun. I want one more night with her, Elijah! Pretty please?"

"No. I'm not going anywheres near that bitch, but you can stay behind if you'd like," I harshly whispered as I hurried down the staircase and into the inn's lobby.

Nadia's grumbling echoed in my head as I burst into the bustling morning streets of Radasanth, hoping to put as much distance between myself and last night as I possibly could have.

[Raelyse]

Mornings were usually glorious for Raelyse. The Myrusian would awake to the smell of scrumptious food cooked by the finest cook within a ten mile radius of wherever he was staying. The meal would usually be closer to lunch than to breakfast, for Raelyse would often awake many hours after he rested due in fact that his windows were so blacked out that no light could ever hope to penetrate. When he did awake, it was usually accompanied by the touch of a seemingly familiar woman, whose soft touches and cooing voice would ensure that the first seconds of consciousness were enjoyable. When he had his fill of food and women both, Raelyse would remove the coverings of his window and bathe his lavish room in light. Then, the day would begin.

This tradition usually meant that all five of Raelyse's senses would be satiated in the short time when he toed the line of consciousness. His mood was perfect in this time, until the slightest problem, the smallest blemish appeared on his flawless beginning. Then, he would revert to his usual self that had went to bed the night before.

This morning, he would awake with all five of his senses being violated. He would not be a happy man today.

It all started just a few short hours after Raelyse had pulled the covers over his body and waited for sleep to come to him. It didn't take him long. It never did. But as soon as the sun rose, the body which was used to sleeping such long hours got no such privilege today. The sun's cruel rays tore through the window's blinds like greedy invaders, their first target seemingly Raelyse's eyelids. They burst through the small crack, removing the comfort of darkness that he had reveled in for so long. Groans escaped his lips and that was when his sense of smell was offended. A vile smell thrust into his nostrils, causing the Myrusian to scrunch his whole face in disgust. He rolled over to his right seeking comfort, usually where a fine woman would stroke his chiseled chest. Only pillows were present to greet him and it was then that Raelyse realized how hard the pillows were.

Pillows that his head rested on were usually softer than clouds, but the one that he lay on appeared to be as hard as cardboard. Reluctantly, Raelyse opened his eyes, curious and afraid as to what he would awake to. His eyes blinked in this new world, head shaking to attempt to shake off whatever state this was in, to confirm whether he was still asleep. Maybe it was his brain, maybe it was his eyes but something was wrong with him. He saw the world as some sort of bright, blurry dream, for he could barely make shape of anything. Raelyse rubbed his eyes and was relieved to see that his vision improved, though only slightly.

Then, it hit him. He began to think and like a wretched enemy, it striked him. A throbbing headache, the worst that the Myrusian had ever experienced. It hurt, oh how it hurt! Raelyse could care less about the fact that he could barely see, he couldn't care that he had awoke in his equivalent of a barn, he couldn't care that a vile smell was living in his nostrils for the headache! Oh, the headache was worst than anything he had ever experienced! He wished for sleep now more than ever, he wished for unconsciousness, even death seemed more preferable! But it would not come and falling back to a lying position only made it worse. Raelyse sat back up and felt something form in his mouth. He swallowed, hard.

Then, he tasted it. It was much worse than his headache for it was a second coming. Raelyse realized how familiar this taste was. It was the same as that vile smell that had awoke him earlier. The smell was coming from his own mouth.

What had happened to him? How could he have been reduced to this state?

The Myrusian rose from the bed slowly, moving for a bathroom, hoping that the hovel he had awoken in had at least one. He stumbled, walking on feet that betrayed him. Raelyse saw a door and hoped that it led to somewhere private where the prying eyes of the world would not see or worse, smell him in this state. Relieved that he had found a bathroom, Raelyse instantly took back his last statement. Eyes were rubbed, water thrown in his face and even a slap across his face were all tried, but the image in the mirror still stared back at him.

His hair. What a state it was in! It was messy, it stood up, spiked in areas that he never imagined hair should ever go in. His glorious hair. The beacon of human perfection, the aspiring glory to which every being wished.

The Myrusian opened his mouth to cry but nothing came out, only a deformed version of his own voice crawling forth from his tongue. What had happened to the eloquent man who spoke with such grace and charisma! The sound had been closer to frog than to prince, he had transformed!

Raelyse dared not look down in the mirror at the rest of his face, but he could feel the rings around the bottom of his eyes swelling on his face like a scar of battle. Only, he had won nothing, he had fought no war.

Then, he remembered.

He had drunk.

[The Ripper]

The sun barely peeked from the canopy far above the throbbing head of Juarik Vinia. An unclear haze drifted across his squinted eyes as he slowly twisted from the mound of leaves where he had fallen asleep. When he opened his eyes fully Juarik realized he was in an unfamiliar place, somewhere he had never been or at least didn't recognize. He crept to a sitting position and began to load his pipe, The Incredible Zane, which had small but useful healing purposes. He loaded some of his own special pipe leaf and began to smoke.

As he inhaled a mixture of smoke and frosty air entered his black lungs. He almost coughed but stopped himself while still retaining the smoke within his lungs. He slowly calculated in his mind how long he was holding the sweet smoke in his lungs...

..."Twenty Six Seconds!!" He grinned as he exhaled the smoke leaving his lungs was a light transparent cream color. His surrounding still did not look familiar but he did recognize the scent that nestled it's way deep into his fabrics. It was ale and from the smell of it and his current confused situation he had drank far to much. His head pains slowly left him as he took his last hit from his pipe and put his smoking materials back into his dull brown bag. He swung his bag to his back as he leapt to his feet almost stumbling forward into the dead stump of an old oak tree.

Damn I must have been drunk. Juarik thought to himself as he regained his balance and got back to his feet. Still with no idea where he was Juarik wasted no time in finding out, making his way to the nearest road. When finally arriving onto the road he saw some odd looking people. He made his way over to them and tapped the tallest of the three people on the shoulder.

The tall dark skinned man turned to face Juarik who couldn't help grinning. The tall man was the victim of some disease unknown to Juarik. He had a large mouth with no teeth, two small squinting eyes, and a strange heavy mole just under his nose. The mole almost blocked air circulation from the mans nostril it seemed. Out of the mole grew three small hairs, each hair braided together into a small chic hair-do. The most odd thing about his mole was it's almost human looking qualities, it had eyes a mouth a nose and that really nice hair-do, not to mention some very big ears.

"Excuse me sir but..." Juarik still tried to hold his laughter. "How exactly do I get back to Underwood?" Juarik made it his duty not to stare at the large mole.

If having a large mole wasn't enough the thing that happened next made Juarik burst into laughter. The man did not reply to Juarik, but of all things his mole opened his little mouth and exclaimed "Ju-Ju-Ju-Just Fa-Fa-follow this road E-E-E-East..." Juarik didn't even reply back not even to say thanks. He couldn't hold his laughter and quickly made his get away from this strange man with his strange mole with a speech handicap...

Juarik couldn't help but think that maybe he should quit drinking as he made his way East on the road still giggling about the mans mole.

[Slayer of the Rot]

I actually had a pretty difficult time deciding the winners this month. Reading through the submissions, I winced, I laughed, and I gagged - because they were submissions that were fairly realistic to me.

Winners coming up next after my own little contribution to the contest (which I was told was customary).


Sticky, cold....satisfied.

They were the first sensations that came to him in that space of limbo between sleeping and wakefulness. Deep in his comfortable darkness, he could feel the prickling coolness of Spring air across bare skin. Farther and farther he rose out of his slumber. The blackness began to ebb, and soon, a pleasant amber glow came to his shut eyes. Dan Lagh'ratham made a sound of satisfaction and clenched his fingers and and toes, tensing the powerful muscles in his body. When he relaxed, he felt something rough and crusty on his skin, tacky and thick to the touch.

There had been dwarven whiskey last night, the sort that tasted like jet fuel. The good kind, really. The only sort that produced an effect in him anymore. The proof of it had to be absolutely ludicrous, or his body would simply break it down and destroy before he felt that old, precious feeling. Despite last night's acerbic drinks, and the utter blank that the evening had become after the tenth glass, he felt wonderfully complete. No nausea, no icepick headache. Finally, he had that glorious feeling every man had the day after he said just the right amount of lies.

Once his eyes had adjusted to the brilliant sunlight, his perfect morning crumbled swiftly.

The buzzing of flies quickly came to his ears, as did the sound of soft snoring. Blearily, he squinted at one hand lifted to his face - and realized the stickiness was dry blood. It matted the hair on his arms, had turned into a dark maroon crust on his knuckles. With a grunt, he sat up, and realized he was nude. More of the dried blood was on his lower body and legs, and the rich, pungent smell so close told him it was smeared all over his face. Suddenly the Saraelian's winced as a stab of pain flared in his stomach, and he clamped a hand over the bloody flesh there - and patted it, staring at it quizzically. It swollen as though he'd gorged himself - and the terrible, urgent pain had been the usual feeling of needing to take a shit, bad.

Loudly, he sniffed, and struggled to blink away the haze. Sighing, he scratched at his head, and looked to his left. There, beside him, was the mutilated corpse of a cow. Only half of it was there. Flies buzzed in the sickly glistening insides of the dead and animal, and promptly, Dan burped. Instantly, he found himself longing for the days of his youth, when all he had to face upon waking from a night of drinking was a pound of greasy fast food wrappers and a -

At once, he froze, and his jaw snapped shut. The sound of choked breath still came from his right. "Fuck, I did it again," he growled quietly through clenched teeth. Warily, he chanced a glance to his other side. There lay another heifer, though only men with his personality would refer to it as such. A hefty women lay slumbering there on the grass, just as nude as he. Her skin was the hue of fine chocolate, her tightly ringer black hair pulled up to either side of her head in bobbing balls. As he stared with wide eyes, she drew her head back and forth, smiling in her sleep.

"Mm - mm. Love me some white meat." She didn't wake; he must have at least tired her out the night before. As he silently stood, he noticed a partially eaten chicken leg grasped loosely in one hand.

He was in the middle of a wide field, the grass up to his ankles, and still wet with the morning dew. In the west, he could see a destroyed wooden fence, and a few dozen cows were grazing to the north in the field. It wasn't difficult for him to piece together his antics from evening past, now. He slapped his palm quietly against his face, grimacing.

"I really fucking did it again." Silently, he rose up in the air, as careful as he could, as though even the slightest ripple of magnetic force would awaken the nubian behemoth laying full and satisfied in the meadow beneath. When he'd risen far enough over the field that he could barely make out the cows moving lazily underneath, he streaked, quite literally across the sky, looking for the nearest lake to wash off the blood and soak his balls.

And now - this month's winners!

For a post with great content, lesbian sex, green pubes, and reminding me of a girl I groped at my last party - First Place goes to Hashi!

For an excellent attempt at using First Person, being a general bullshitter and reminding me of a good, personal friend - Second Place goes to Rayse Valentino!

Now, I know this doesn't happen usually...or in any other Vignette Contest before, but for both having excellent content, one making me wince and laugh, the other having excellent character and personality - Third Place is a shared tie between Elijah Morendale and Raelyse!

Hashi receives 200 exp and 100 gold.
Rayse Valentino receives 350 exp and 75 gold.
Elijah Morendale receives 250 exp and 50 gold.
Raelyse receives 450 exp and 50 gold.
Godhand receives 400 exp.
Slayer of the Rot receives 450 exp.
Raimeikin receives 100 exp.
The Ripper receives 100 exp.

And guess what? you all get to go home with a surprise spoil!
-Hashi receives a bright green tinted glass with The Fiddler's Neon Green's logo upon it, and on command, it will fill itself with any drink you could ever want - as long as it'll fit the glass.
-Rayse Valentino receives a bottle of aged 20-year bourbon.
-Elijah Morendale receives a Crazy Bitch Survival Kit which contains handcuffs, a blackjack, and a sock to get her to shut up so you can explain the situation.
-Raelyse receives an unbreakable, portable plastic comb that can be converted on emergency into a kazoo and a tin of spearmint breath mints.
-Godhand receives a handful of pills that will instantly cure any hangover and a bottle of brandy.
-Raimeikin receives a frosted, slender glass as tall as an average man's hand, from the bottom of the palm to the tip of the middle finger. On command, it will fill with a drink called a "Tequila Slammer".
-The Ripper receives a new pouch of tobacco, and it's some damn, good stuff. Smooth, rich, and flavorful. It seems to taste like whatever the smoker enjoys eating or drinking the most.

Any consumables given, i.e. alcohol, tobacco, breath mints, has been enchanted to be bottomless, meaning it will never run out. Unless you break it or tear it of course. Then you'll have to take it into the Bazaar and get it fixed.

[Witchblade]

EXP and GP added!