December Vignette

[hoytti]

Vignette will be open until December 31st. Rules and guidelines available here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?25691-Vignette-Rules-amp-Rewards).


Your character meets their alternative selves. They have all the same traits and powers as them, but they have the opposite personalities of the real one. (Meaning that if your character is good, the alternate one is evil.) What happens?

[Ashla]

OOC: Takes place after thread that follows "On the Concept of Hatred" (I already have the title, just not giving it away yet, MWU-AH-HA-HAA! ... Wait. Did I already give the title away or not?) And WOW! This must be the longest post I ever made!! :O Oh, and also SPOILER ALERT!! This bit contains information from a future thread I'm writing out, don't read this if you don't want the ending to my current semi-solo trilogy spoiled!!

Ashla walked into the great Citadel and went strait up to a monk. She shined in herself and wore a confident look on her fair face. "Hello?" She asked, suddenly smiling at the monk, "Could you give me a good fight please? O-Oh! And- and make it a surprise, please?" Within those few seconds of her speaking, she switched into the beautiful, nice, person she usually was. The monk nodded without saying a word and led her to a random hall and showed her a random door. He motion her to go inside. The door was like any regular door in the hall, it was wood. Nothing else to look at except that it was wood. Nothing left to see here.

Ashla nodded in thanks and placed her hand on the door. She paused for a moment before entering the room...



It was a wonderful looking powder room. The walls were pink and there were many caskets and curtains and ribbons. Ashla blinked and looked around at the mysterious battlefield. This is a surprise! She circled around in the circle that the room was in. She walked over to one of the many colored boxes and opened it up. Inside was a fancy, purple dress. She scoffed and left it be after a single moment of glamouring at its design. There was a certain something that caught her interest more than anything else in this room; something was covered up by a dark pink blanket at the opposite side of the room from the door. She stepped towards it and stood in front of it for a moment, wondering what object lay beneath, then in a burst of movement tore it down.

The object was a mirror.

It was an oval shaped, skinny mirror on a silver stand. It was almost as tall as Ashla was, and on its stand, it stood slightly above her. Ashla looked into the mirror and saw her own reflection. Ashla's change in apparel since she had first gone to Eiskalt had changed her looks dramatically. Instead of the lighter colors that allowed her facial features to stand out so much, the dark clothes she had in place made her physical features look bland. Ashla sighed and reached out to the mirror. She touched her reflection, the hand of it pressed against her own. Then something magical happened, a ripple dawned from their hands and suddenly, the reflection came to life!

"Why hello there." She smiled at the real Ashla.

Ashla jumped, "Dang it! Those monks really did catch me by surprise!"

The other Ashla laughed. It was a laugh that was very different though. That laugh was dark, menacing... Something was off. It still shone in amusement, so you could tell this was Ashla; but this was a different Ashla. Her personality was different from the girl who had entered the room... She was cold. She scoffed as she pointed at the outfit Ashla was wearing, "I'm glad you chose such a dark outfit from the Eiskalt mall, it really fits with me!"

Ashla turned her head to the right, blinking rapidly, "Huh? ..."

The girl in the mirror scoffed, "Well, of course, I did avenge our family for what they did to us, didn't we?" She had a very sinister smirk over her face, "Didn't we pay them back?? No wonder we have such an appeal to darkness on; it fits us well."

Ashla began to panic, "Wait- no- What? I- I don;t get what you're saying; I-"

"Oh please!" The girl in the mirror suddenly grew serious, "You can't say that you haven't forgiven them, have you?? I haven't! I let them all know. I let them all burn!" Her eyes grew with the exact icy glare Ashla always obtained when she was ticked off. This girl - this impostor - sneered, "I gave them what they deserved."

Ashla felt her throat tighten hard in her confusion. Would she have really done that herself? Would she have really killed off everybody? It wasn't by her own hands that Fulgur I received justice. And while yes, Fulgur II had went on a darker path since they had first met, Ashla had still cared for him. Would have the Ashla Icebreaker she'd known really do something so down dirty and dark?

This girl apparently had.

"Why?" Ashla asked the girl in the mirror.

"Because of what they took from us from the moment we were born!" she growled, "Because they- they... They destroyed what good we ever had! They took everything!!" She was now beginning to cry, her eyes wide in some sort of fear, "They- they-"

Ashla held up her hands to stop her, "Hold it." She said, her face was as surprised as before, alarmed by this darker version of herself. Ashla sighed, "What good did they take from us?"

The other girl stomped her foot, as if she couldn't believe such a question came out of her original's mouth. "Our uncle taught us how to be honest, true, loyal... A-and he was such a hypocrite not being any of that to us!"

Ashla shook her head, "I don't think so."

"What?"

"I believe," Ashla started, "That our family has been somewhat misplaced in their beliefs. However some of them still meant the right things. We all did; we- we just..." Ashla shrugged, "Well, everybody makes mistakes."

"But-" her replica fought, "But they couldn't take those mistakes away! Couldn't they?!"

"They couldn't." Ashla simply replied. She briefly thought of another example of this, and asked herself, "You remember Julius, right?"

"Julius?" The other one had been caught off guard, "You mean Julius Tabor?"

Ashla smiled at her cold, tired reflection, who had endless tears still streaming down her rosy cheeks. "You remember what Julius did to us, right?"

"When he handed us off to those bandits?" Dark Ashla asked, whipping her tears away.

"Yep." Ashla said, "How did you reply to that?"

She blinked, "The way... you... replied to our family. I- I forgave him cause- cause I knew he was sorry."

"So did I." Ashla said boldly.

"But- that was different!"

"Not to me it isn't!"

They both blinked at each other.

Ashla beamed, "I understand that despite everything everybody put me through, I can still live." She took the sides of the silver mirror and blinked proudly, "I understand that all we can do it forgive, forget, and move on."

"H-How?" Dark Ashla asked desperately, "How do I-" she paused to think of the right words to say, "H... ... How do I become like you? How do I become... So victorious? So happy?"

Ashla let go on the mirror, "I already told you." She reached up to the glass again and touched it, "Forgive, forget, and move on."

The darker one ever so slightly smiled, "Th-thank you..."

"No," Ashla said. "Thank us."

The other one placed her fingers against Ashla's the the ripples started again, sweeping the reflection away completely. It left nothing but sparkling glass in a silver mirror. Ashla's smile faded into a deeper, wiser, face for the recent events of her life at large, and she turned her back to the door which she had came from.


Every day we look into some kind of mirror, and everytime we see another person inside it. This person knows the exact same things, thoughts, and emotions we have. It does not matter whether we love them or despise them, we all must face that person head on and come to the conclusion of what you must do, who you must be, concerning them. Because without that person in the mirror, who would we be? Because, that person is you.

[Philomel]

Literally this will be my first ever post on here, but it seems a good oppurtunity to explore the character of Phi that I created. Could turn this into an actual thread or story, maybe. Maybe. I haven't actually started writing it yet so lets see how it goes. I have set it just after she has murdered the man (who was also her teacher) who raped her mother.

She had walked these roads ever since she was a girl. A tiny young scatter-brained faunling who had barely any perameters in her life, just the freedom to do as she might, and go wherever her heart took her. So had always been her mother's attitude to existence, and Philomel had taken up the standard with as much enthusiastic attitude.

But now she strode these streets alone. With her hands held tensely in front of her as she strode, she cracked her knuckles, her spirit full of ire and a thirst for revenge, despite the fact that she had already torn up his body in the smallest of pieces, hacking at the corpse with her sharpest knife, hack hack hack, until the sickening man was just a pile of bloody mess and splintered bones and a lonely eyeball, and then she had thrown these parts onto the roof. Within five minutes the roof had been swarming with carrion crows, but Philomel kept pieces aside for the birds she adored, the ones who called in the dusk with voices of angels, and who she was named for - the nightingales.

And then she had left, looking once at her mother who was now no more than a shaking husk, curled up tight on her bed where she would remain in pain for a year and a day, never wanting to see another man because of their direst cruelty.

Philomel had never, not once, been an excellent ambassador for care or for empathy. So she left her mother and strode through the streets, eyes flickering around, remembering scenes from her childhood. She twisted down a darker alleyway, heading perpendicular to the brothel she had been raised in, and heading down towards the slums. A sharp staircase with steep steps and she angled a path right down into the heart of the dirtiest part of the city. Her hooves leapt off the last step, a foot in the air and landed on the echoing cobbles of the entrance to the main street.

Hack. There was the sudden sound of a head being parted from its body, which was shortly coupled by the severed head itself, being violently flung into the stairwell. It hit the wall near Philomel's head, leaving a blood splatter about the size of a regular man's look of joy as she fucked the life out of him, and fell to the ground. There was a short shout, then a cry as some female shrieked with remorse.

"You didn't have to do that!"

Philomel stared at the man's head, blinking and looking at the blonde hair, the emerald eyes, the equine nose. He seemed elegant enough, so she raised her cloven hoof at the end of her left leg and twitched his hair from his face. It fell down to the side, revealing five golden rings nestled in his ear. Philomel glanced into the street, there was no one to be seen - just the female voice that had truly turned horrified now and was abusing the killer - then ducked down as fast as she could, swiping the rings with an easy manouvere she had used many times to take the rings and money from the pockets of her clients.

The shriek grew higher - then stopped.

Philomel straightened, looked up, raising her brows at the figure suddenly in front of her. Curiously a faun also, which was uncommon but not unheard of in Radasanth, and roughly the same height. Very unlike Philomel her brown hair was softly flowing around her shoulders, hiding her horns for the most part, and she wore a sort of shift, a long shirt that hid anything of an elsewhile generous physique. In her hand she held a short dagger and she breathed fast, staring at Philomel with a desperation beyond anything.

"Who are you?" she said, voice quivering.

Uselessly she raised the dagger and pointed it at Philomel. Philomel scoffed, pocketed the rings in a pouch at her belt, comparing her own short black loin-covering with the loose shorts that this other faun girl wore, reached over her shoulder and grasped the hilt of her sword from her back sheath, grinning as she did.

"Get out of my way, sweetie," she said quietly, warningly.

"But who are you?" the other said, hugging her body loosely, eyes huge and body shivering a little, out of nervousness.

Philomel ran her tongue over her unpainted but full and lucious upper lip, swept it in and clicked it a couple of times against her teeth. She took a step closer to the clone of her, who seemed so like her - yet so different - and thrust her face into hers, slipping her hand-and-a-half sword out of her sheath and holding it by her side, to swing down the blade by the other faun's right side.

She hissed, "None of your bloody business."

"I have never seen another faun in this part of the city before," the soft-voiced one said, "Are you... visiting?"

Philomel's temper snapped. She pushed the girl forwards, shoving the butt of her sword into her chest, pushing her back. The girl let out a light cry, then swung up with that little knife she carried and thrust forwards, far faster than Philomel had been expecting. Dodging away, Philomel brought herself out of harm's way, twisting her sword to swing back down and defend the cross section of her body. Taking a step back she stared at the other female faun, three feet between them and eyes wide, breathing short and sharp.

"Who the fuck are you?" Philomel suddenly found herself whispering.

The other faun blinked, then raised her chin, holding up her knife in readiness of another attack. "I am Bibag-" She stopped, stared. "You never told me your name."

Philomel peered over - so far as she knew - Bibag's shoulder and was not surprised to see a decapitated body lying on the cobbles of the street, very unmoving and not alive, with a pool of blood neatly around its neck.

"Whose the dead meat?" she asked.

Bibag's eyes narrowed a little, she waved the knife in Philomel's face. "Sorry, I do not mean to be rude, but... what is a woman like..." she looked over Philomel's clothes - or rather lack of them, with the black loin-covering, belt resting on her hips and the low slung but practical breast holders Philomel had made herself from what remained of a tanner making a horse's saddle. "You... doing here?"

Philomel flipped her sword from her left hand to right hand, did a practise disengage, and smiled lusciously, "I have to find my clients somewhere sweetheart."

Bibag stared, mostly at Philomel's cleavage. "Uhhh... right. But but..."

"Who killed the guy?"

"I am so sorry," Bibag looked up into Philomel's eyes, suddenly tearful, "I tried to stop him!"

Philomel narrowed her eyes, "Who, bitch, who?"

"The man who killed him. Come, you have to help me find the city guards. We must report this crime!"

What a fucking good little fucker of a fucking faun. Philomel thought, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, whatever," she said, "You go and have fun Bibag, or whoever you are. I am finding a pub." With that Philomel took a step to the side and continued on her way, though keeping the other faun in her eyesight.

Bibag stared at her, knife half in the air and effortless squeak of "I must help people" dying away to nothing. Yes, definitely not Philomel's clone. Unless she was some sort of crude experiment in which everything had gone wrong and they had been left with a useless pathetic girl, a good knife fighter by any accounts, but someone who was nothing in a way like the original.

Nowhere near as sexy, nowhere near as deadly, nowhere near as flabbergastingly able to persuade men into her bed to learn of their darkest secrets.

No, this Bibag girl would never do anything like that. She was too perfect, too much the opposite.

Philomel flicked the plait of her purple and chocolate hair over her shoulder and walked away.

This day was most definitely not what she had been expecting.

[Sanste]

This is Sanste meeting his darker half who obviously has a much different view on the world and how to go about things.

“Hello, foolish, innocent boy. I thought you were dead. Well, no matter, I'll get rid of you again soon enough,” the cloaked figure spoke to Sanste.

“Wait, what's going on? I visited the fortunate teller to see the future so who are you?” the boy replied.

“Ha! This nightmare is trying to speak back to me. Well, tell you what, your future ends in death. A horrible terrifying death that will destroy you,” the stranger spoke in a crazed laugh. “Oh, yes. They will break you. One bone at a time. It's amazing how much pain a person can take before you die. Ha Ha.”

“W-wwait, t-t-that can't be,” Sanste frantically tried to rebuke the stranger's words. “I-i-i have no ene-mies.”

“Ha, ha, ha. When will you grow up? Oh wait, you never do until it's too late. Enemies? Do you honestly think life is ever that easy? You make enemies just by being alive. There's always someone in a poorer condition. That beggar you passed by might resent you for not giving a single coin. That time you might have been in the way. Grow up! Life isn't about lack of enemies, it's about being powerful enough where they can't do anything against you. You think that pathetic training you are doing will be enough to save Arix from dying again? Life is the ultimate game. You must crush others, trample their dreams, and rip out the prize of power for yourself. It's not a child's game where everyone can win and if not, you can replay it.”

“But that isn't true. People get powerful all the time from training and working together. Kingdoms may be ruled by a king but it takes all their advisers and generals working together to achieve it,” Sanste replied as he finally regained his voice.

“Sure, but where are your friends? Arix the golem? Well, he sure was a big help against Lye and will be just as useful in your death. Family? Well, where were they when you died? Childhood friends? Oh right, you never really got close to them because you were always reading books and being lazy in the house instead of working.”

“Wait, how do you know all of that? Well, still, I will make friends and become more powerful. I will show you that people can train and achieve greatness without trampling on other people. I'll become a legendary person like Commander Sei,” Sanste tried to debate the stranger.

“I grow tired of arguing with a stupid kid who can't see the truth of this world. You say all those big words but you will die a meanless death nonetheless. You read all those stories. You know why they are called 'stories'? Because that's what they are. Most aren't even true. For every person like Commander Sei, thousands or more die without anyone knowing their names. It's the ruthless people that grab hold of power and push other people down to stand on are the people who have the best chance of gaining enough power,” the stranger harshly answered the Sanste. “Well, I grow tired of you who can't even learn. Now go ahead and die. The only one who will remember you is me unfortunately. Although I will burn you out of my memories someday, just you wait.”

[black shadow]

The note said to meet here... But there is nobody. Black Shadow thought to himself. He had received this note about an hour earlier. He was standing just outside of The Unlucky Burmite, the most well known tavern in all of Hanquindil. I guess no one is going to be here. He thought to himself as he turned to walk away.

"Wait." a familiar voice said to him.

That... That was my voice. He thought to himself as he pulled out his bow and aimed it at the man that seemed to appear out of the dark. "Woa, it's okay Ardon, I know this is a shock, but I am you."

No, it can't be. He thought to himself, shaking his head.

"Listen, put the bow down, I need help with something." The man said.

Black Shadow put his bow down and began to speak in sign language. "What is it you need? How are you even here?"

"That's the thing, I don't know how I got here, but I do know that while I'm here, I might as well have some fun," He said. "Oh and call me Ardon, I mean, I'm not exiled like you are."

"What do you want me to do. It better be something good."

"Oh it is... I am lusting to feel my sword being thrust through another body." Ardon said.

"Who do you propose?" Black Shadow asked.

"Oh, you'll find out. Come, I'll show you." Ardon said as he began to lead Black Shadow through the city. As they reached the home that Black Shadow stayed in when he was in need of medical health earlier in his lifetime, he realised who it was he was asked to murder.

He tapped the shoulder of Ardon. "Listen, I can't help you with this... I realise that you aren't going to back down, because, well you're me, so....." He said as he pulled out his sword. I'm sorry, but I must.

"I'f this is what you wish, So be it." Ardon said pulling out his sword.

*CLASH* The two swords met, The lock that they were caught up in was met with the death stare that filled his eyes. THe fight lasted for ten minutes. swords clashing, and sparks flying. The blood of one man dripped across the floor.

I'm sorry, but you left me with no choice. Black Shadow thought as he walked over and untied the little girl that just witnessed the mans death. I'm sorry...

[Sir Walter]

“Halt! Who are you and where are you going?” asked Sir Walter to the knight in front of him.

“None of your business. Get out of my way stupid knight or die a stupid death like I'm sure you deserve,” rang out a chilling voice.

“I am currently patrolling this area looking for a murderer who slaughtered a town not too far away. It's is my duty to check people out so I can report to my superiors,” Sir Walter calmly replied while readying his bones just in case.

“Oh, those people. Ha! They were so weak and easy to kill. The red blood stains were oh so pretty,” the unknown knight said as he swung his axe at Sir Walter.

“How dare you! Are you not a knight?” Sir Walter angrily replied as he ducked the axe swing and responded with his own.

“Ha! Don't make me laugh. I'm more than just a stupid knight of honor like you. Honor is for weak stupid people who don't know how to have fun,” came the reply from the knight who couldn't quite avoid the axe swing.

Sir Walter saw the axe slightly dent the knight's armor but was startled by the sound from the hit. The sound seemed to indict the attacking knight's armor was mostly hollow. “Wait, are you a death knight? Or what are you?” he asked while readying himself for a counter attack.

“Well, you sure are the smart one. But your voice seemed to have the same chill and hollowness. Aren't you one too?” asked the other knight as he circled around Sir Walter looking for an opening.

“Unfortunately, it is as you said. I have been cursed with this form but still, I abide by the knightly code of honor,” Sir Walter replied as he decided to try and hold the enemy here while waiting for reinforcements.

“Cursed? This glorious form is great! Don't have to worry about stupid things like eating and sleeping. I can travel and kill anytime I wish. It's so fun to see the screams of terror from the children and even adults wetting themselves as you close in on them. The only problem is that I can't rape the women and feel the pleasure from it,” said the death knight with a laugh.

“Do you not fear the gods and hell? You might have been brought back to life but surely, one day you will be judged for these newly committed evil deeds. Why do you refuse to see the hopelessness of evil?” the holy warrior rebuked.

“You're the foolish one. You live life with the stupid code and thus can't have fun like I said early. You live for the gods but what have they done for you? I'm sure every one of your stupid prayers causes you to yell out from the pain of holy magic. Well, as much as I would like to continue talking until I rip your bones to pieces, I'm not foolish enough to stick around for your friends to gang up on me,” finished the evil knight who threw a dagger at Sir Walter as he retreated.

Sir Walter caught the dagger on his shield and tried to purse, but unfortunately lost the murderer. “May the gods bring you to justice for your horrible deeds,” was all Sir Walter could sadly say as he thought of the horrible massacre that the unholy knight had obviously done.

[Fox Owen Xavier]

Just a short post on Fox thinking back on his childhood. He grew up in a small town and learned to make potions under his mentor who everyone calls the "old witch". Anyways, since Fox isn't really good or bad, I decided to kind of compare his attitude towards working vs just being carefree and having fun. He might appear to just be wandering around having fun but he does spend a large part of his time studying and learning.

Fox wondered how his mentor was doing back at his hometown. It seemed so long ago since he left on his adventures.

“What about that party fellow I wonder? Did he finally grow up and become responsible? We were both similar in abilities and skills back then... We both nagged the old witch to teach us potion crafting and finally got her to teach us.”

“I missed those days of completing trying to outdo my rival. We would spend hours each night trying to find the most herbs and plants. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if he hadn't changed. I mean, I can kind of see the appeal of being the popular guy and having a lot of friends but to give up learning about the magical world of potions?”

“When did he start changing I wonder? Twelve? No that sounds a bit too young. Fourteen? Sounds a bit closer. I guess it was those kitsune girls. He started skipping out on training sessions and I could see him just rushing to get potions done rather than making sure it was right. Ha! I still remember the old witch's scolding him for a solid two hours. And then he stole the old witch's secret recipe to show off to his new friends. Ha, Ha, Ha! I never seen the old witch so angry. Wonder where he went after she forced that potion that potion down his throat. A potion to make everyone see you as the ugly person in the world... I wonder if he ever found a way to undo that. Supposedly, it was temporary but given how angry the witch is, that could have been a whole ten or more years.”

“Well, I kind of miss home. Maybe I should stop by sometime to see how the old witch and the rest of the folk are doing. I'm sure they'll be impressed by all the stories I could tell especially me meeting the legendary Commander Sei. Anyways, I need to stop losing myself in thought I suppose. The difference between me and my rival ended up just being practice and dedication.”

[Tobias Stalt]

I've blurred the lines.

Tobias stood perfectly still, save for the wind rhythmically tossing the tattered, black cloak that hung from him in every direction. It was a cold night, but the moonlight was absolutely stunning; the world around him was lit up in a pale rendition of it's daytime self, down to the man staring back at Tobias from the pool at his feet.

They're not even there, now.

His reflection had eyes of obsidian, cold and dark, but Tobias had begun to wonder how far off the image was from reality. Ever since he had first come to Salvar, let alone Pestovo, things had been set in motion that changed him forever. The thought of taking a life, though he had done so before, had seemed incorrigible; no amount of kindness or prayer had lifted the burden, and his mind ran red, to the point where he had lost sleep. Lifting his hand, the light bathing it an alabaster hue reminiscent of cleanliness, Tobias stared long at it and wondered.

What had changed? There was a biting quality to the wind that caused Tobias to shut his eyes for several moments, and in that time, his hand slowly curled into a fist. "Who am I now, that I am so detached from what I was?" The question came as if he expected an answer, though he knew no one could hear. His own voice startled him a bit, as he had grown unused to it in the months prior. It had become a ragged sort of throaty thing, foreign to him as though it was not his at all, but the voice of a stranger.

The true surprise, however, came from behind him. "Do you not know?" This voice, unlike his own, felt disturbingly familiar, and as he turned, the eyes he saw felt like they were judging him more with each passing moment. To his credit, Tobias showed very little of what ran through his mind, save for the rapid blinking that had become his involuntary response to confusion. "Funny; when we were suffering, you had all the answers."

Turning completely around to face the speaker, Tobias' gaze hardened. What he saw made no sense; the youth before him was a mirror image of himself, albeit with warm, colorful clothes and a wretched smile that made him want to strangle the counterfeit. He was at a loss, the obvious question at the tip of his tongue, but refusing to give itself voice. What was this?

Deftly, the thief's fingers found his dirk, but the apparition held up it's hands. "Honestly, I'm not surprised. But you won't need that," the other-Tobias assured him, walking slowly past his dark clothed counterpart. "Your conscience, I suppose, is the best thing to call me. The other half. The thing you killed- you've killed so many other things, I suppose I just became an afterthought," the smiling Tobias went on, not bothering to face the scowling one, "but you need to hear this. Before you go so far that you can't turn back. The crossroads of fate is not far, now."

Tobias snorted at the reproach he was being given, shaking his head. "If this be the wages of introspection, spirit, I thank you for the wisdom and bid you goodnight. I won't bother looking back anymore."

"That's just it, Tobias," His conscience replied softly, "this is the first time you've opened yourself up to me in several turns on the moon. This may be my only chance to get through." The image turned on him quickly now, putting hands on either of Tobias' wrists- fighting with a sudden urgency, Tobias found he could not resist the hold; rather, a strange warmth flowed into him that caused him to cease his struggle. "There is good in action, and good can come of your newfound skillset. But great care must go into the allocation of that power. One callous step could- nay, it will- cost you your life."

Images of bloodied, lifeless corpses filled his mind in an instant, and Tobias' mouth hung open. His eyes were widened with terror, but no sound came from him. He felt a million hands, devoid of warmth, clawing at him now. And for the very first time, he could feel the weight. "Only now do you see, once your eyes are open. These are lives on your hands. Both those that have been lost, those that will be, and those that could. All of them have weight, Tobias. All of them have meaning. Even when you cannot see them, they are as chains tightly wrapped around you. Inevitably, you will collapse beneath that overwhelming burden."

And he could feel it; Tobias fell to his knees, palms grasping at dirt, fingers bloodied from digging into stone- to no avail. He could not escape the crushing weight. "Mind your choices, Tobias," said the apparition, oddly repeating words of wisdom his father had once given him, "lest your choices mind you."

A half-second later, Tobias was on the ground in a heap, gasping for air. When his wits returned, he scrambled to his feet and looked all around, but his doppelganger was nowhere to be seen. Tobias scowled again, but this time, he made sure to dig for his weapon and stow in against his wrist, just in case any other ghosts decided to show up that night.

Muttering words of discontent, the thief left the plaza and headed toward home, all the while wondering if he had been the victim of a very strange dream.

[hoytti]

Thank you all for participating in the vignette. Our winners are Sir Walter and Tobias Stalt respectively.


BlueGhostofSeaside receives 150 experience.
Use of Topic: Perfectly
Creativity: The mirror idea has been used multiple times, but I like the idea of it being in the Citadel
Mechanics: A few mistakes here and there mostly doubles and wrong spelling of the word
Notes: At first I thought you were going to actually fight, but you surprised me, good job.


Philomel receives 100 experience.
Use of Topic: Another one who's prompt was perfectly fit.
Creativity: Interesting to choose a child to represent your opposite
Mechanics: I found no mistakes in this thread, well done
Notes: You are a great writer. Well done


Sanste receives 100 experience.
Use of Topic: They definitely are opposites
Creativity: A stranger man in the room. perfect
Mechanics: No problems here
Notes: Loved the visual stuttering.


black shadow receives 150 experience.
Use of Topic: Spot on
Creativity: I like him actually meeting his opposite from another reality
Mechanics: A single spelling mistake.
Notes: I just liked this idea of him showing that he will kill but has a conscious.


Sir Walter receives 200 experience and 200 gold.
Use of Topic:Easiest to see
Creativity: I love the good vs evil shown here.
Mechanics: Consistent misspelling of ax.
Notes: This one was fun as well as well written.


Fox Owen Xavier receives 100 experience.
Use of Topic: It's definitely there
Creativity: Done in a back story perfect
Mechanics: No errors found
Notes: I liked this one. Well done


Tobias Stalt receives 160 experience and 100 gold.
Use of Topic: Well done
Creativity: I've not seen someone do their conscious for their opposite before.
Mechanics: Subject verb agreement problems.
Notes: As I've said, never seen the conscious be used as the opposite. Well, except for Smeagol.

[Lye]

EXP and GP Awarded.

Congrats to the winners and all participants! Another fantastic Vignette.