January Vignette

[hoytti]

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


Your character is being interviewed for a newspaper article. What would your character like to say for their best points? Does he/she/it have plans for the future?

[Tobias Stalt]

Fidgeting uncomfortably in the cushioned seat that was fashioned specifically for the purpose of comfort- an irony that Tobias would probably look back on and laugh- the rogue twiddled his thumbs idly and glanced about every so often. He looked as if he were paranoid that someone would see him. "Relax, Mr. Stalt," the crooning, gentle voice of a woman brushed over him, and his eyes snapped back to the dazzling, bold lipped beauty that smiled kindly to him. Those kind blue eyes seemed to stare into his soul. Tobias had decided immediately that the way she looked at him made him even less sure about his decision to speak with her, though mostly because he was not proud.

Most men of an age with Tobias were fiercely devoted to their ego, and quick to jump at any chance to display even the least interesting of accolades; the young Tobias opted for his singular solitude, keeping any and all information about his personal life well hidden from the public. "You swear on your life," he said in a very serious, shaky voice as his brown eyes locked to her gaze, "That my name and identity will remain secret."

She bristled for a long moment, clearly not thrilled by the veiled threat. Swallowing her retort, she shut her eyes softly. "I do sympathize with your situation, Tobias, I really do," she smiled gently, her eyes opening with a glimmer of hurt as she nodded to him, "but please, I'm your friend. You don't need to threaten me. Of course your identity is safe."

He watched her, unconvinced, unmoving as she reached for her mug. His eyes followed her hand narrowly, and when she stopped short of grasping it he glanced up to her smiling face once more. "You're not really the trusting sort, are you, Tobias?"

He snorted. "Observant, ain't ya? That why they pay you the big bucks?" When she did not respond and returned to sipping her coffee quietly, he looked down at the table again and closed his eyes. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry. I'll try for less rigidity." Folding his hands in his lap, Tobias took a long breath and braced for what he assumed would be the longest interrogation of his life.

"Tell me a little about the life you've chosen," she questioned, a quill in her hand moving over parchment as she placed her drink down and glanced up at the nervous man. She waited patiently, watching Tobias clearly struggle against himself to consider the question without any sort of witty response. Sarcasm, she noted on the paper, was his first line of defense.

"I don't remember choosing it," he replied honestly, glancing up as the words flowed out much more easily than he had thought. Perhaps it was some sort of reporter's trick. Or perhaps he was just taken with this Veronica Waters, but Tobias found himself opening up for the first time since he had left home. "My father was a merchant. No one extraordinary, nor incredibly rich; but he was a man of means, and we wanted for nothing. He taught me his trade, intent on handing down the family business when I came of age."

Veronica had stopped writing, and was now staring at Tobias rather skeptically. "Something I said doesn't make sense to you?" Tobias snapped at her, not altogether appreciative of the critical glare the woman was giving him. Her smile had started to dim, and she looked just like everyone else who had ever judged him.

"Well, if we're being honest, yes. Why would you leave that life to become a thief?" She looked confused now, and placed the quill down, folding her fingers delicately in front of her. Her elbows bore down on her desk as she furrowed her brow and considered Tobias.

"I was getting to that," he continued, scowling at her, "by your leave, I'll continue." Veronica nodded and he placed both hands on the desk, staring at them. "I was trained as a merchant, and I had in my head that I was ready to see the world. To make a name for myself and have an adventure, I left home without telling my father."

She stared blankly at him, and he folded his arms. "I assume you were a child once, Ms. Waters?" he inquired, to which she smiled uncertainly and replied with a short "yes." Tobias nodded, "I thought you might have been. You may recall that there were spells of illusion woven over you by your imagination, and bad decisions that came about as results?"

Veronica mouthed the word "ah," but made no attempt to reply. "At any rate, I was far less good at it than I imagined I was. So, I was forced to resort to thievery as an alternative to gainful employment."

As her quill scrawled quickly across the paper, she glanced up at Tobias with a sadness that made him look away. He knew that look better than most; pity, she was feeling for him. He wanted to scream at her. "I assume, then, that your father wouldn't take you back if you decided to go home now?" Her voice was weak, as if she anticipated the answer and hoped that he would surprise her.

"I am not the same boy who left my father's house," Tobias replied evenly, "I have no way of knowing if my father is a merciful man. What I remember of him was business, and expectation, and immense pride. He would probably not be proud of my choices, and I do not wish to shame him so."

Tilting her head, the ravishing brunette studied Tobias, tapping the tip of the quill against the table thoughtfully. "And are you proud of it?" She inquired, clearly interested.

"Not in the traditional sense, obviously," he laughed, lips splitting into a wide grin. Veronica beamed, glad to finally see a moment of humanity from the man. "I'm certainly not proud of my decision to steal, nor of the number of people I've had to wrong to get by. But for making my own way? For surviving without my father, and becoming my own man? Yeah, I suppose I'd say I'm proud of that."

Finally, Veronica was making some real progess, and she leaned forward, looking at the man in front of her in a different light. "What would you say is the best thing about you?" The question came so quickly that Tobias blinked at it, and the woman seemed pleased with herself for having surprised him. "What sets you apart? What identifies you, in your opinion?"

"I have honestly never thought about that," Tobias muttered, "seems a right pointless thing to ask a thief."

"You're more than that," Veronica shot back, so quickly it made Tobias recoil and stare at her from the very back of his seat. "That was my point for this interview," she told him, smiling, "I wanted to take someone from the darkest place, the hardest walk of life, and see what set them apart. I wanted to know if there was more to you than your choices, and to show the world that people aren't always what we label them as. People do things for a reason. And you're certainly not disappointing me, Tobias."

The smile she offered him was even warmer than her words, and Tobias found himself infected with a similar problem. From ear to ear, the thief's lips were pried upward, and he felt a warmth in his heart he could scarcely remember. "I want to make a difference," he told her, "and I know that doesn't make sense right now, but I intend to come up from this. All my life, I've wanted to do right. At first, it was right by my father. Now, I've seen that there's a bigger world with more people in it than I ever imagined, and I can do so much better for them than peddling wares. My best trait, I'd say, is my determination. But you'd never see it if you didn't ask."

Veronica nodded slowly, smiling wryly across the desk at the man. "Isn't that just a perfect thought," she mused, writing slowly, "you'd never see if you didn't ask."

"Aye," Tobias agreed, "folks at large are quick to judge and slow to understand."

The reported chortled, "I'd say another of your redeeming qualities is your wisdom, Mr. Stalt." To this, his brow raised, but he gave no reply. Instead, she went on, "so, what are your plans? Are you looking to put this into effect sooner rather than later?"

"There's no telling how life will go," he told her in earnest, "but it is my hope that fortune will smile on me and hand me the opportunity soon." He stood rather abruptly, and leaned over the table, "Now, I must be going Ms. Waters. It's been very lovely, but I'm a very busy man." He reached down for her quill and penned something small on the paper she had been writing on as she looked at his face. She was contemplating the man she had just gotten to know better, perhaps, than anyone else he had ever met.

He placed the quill down on the paper neatly and turned to walk out of the office, bowing his head slightly in farewell. "You're not going to try and steal anything from me, are you?" Veronica asked jokingly, a playful smile on her rosy lips.

"I already have," Tobias said with a wink, disappearing through the door without another word. Finally, she glanced down to the paper and blinked several times, her heart fluttering slightly at the words written there above her own handwriting.

"Your heart is the first thing I'm proud to have stolen."

With a laugh, Veronica Waters leaned back in her chair, and she reflected on the meeting with Tobias Stalt. What an interesting man; it donned on her that they were very much alike in that they both wanted to change lives. How funny it seemed that they ended up touching each other's hearts, if only for a few minutes.

[Verif]

Paper's flittered everywhere, as the young man rushed through
the hallways of the building. He was late and it was his first day of
work. Not enough time to pick up the fallen paper, he tried desperately
to catch what he could as he zig-zagged to the appointed room.

"Watch it Derik!" The man yelled as he jumped out of the way.

"Sorry..." He finally found the room and quickly adjusted his hair with
his one free hand. Opening the door slowly he peered inside. A short
man fitted with armor from head to toe sat across a ornate desk. Walking
briskly he dropped the stack onto the desk and sat in the matching
adorned chair. "I sincerely apologize for my lateness. You haven't been
waiting long have you?"

A few moments passed and there was no reply. Pulling out his quill, he
glanced up and noticed the man was sitting slightly off center. Getting
up Derik waved his hand in front of the man. Unable to see his face past
his helm he listened intently. An almost inaudible snore came from the
helm as he slowly drew breathe.

Throwing his hands up in defeat he sat back down in his chair. He took
so long that the interviewee fell asleep. Great, won't live this one down
once the office catches wind. "Didn't even get his name..." Derik said
out loud.

Moving in his chair a bit, the sleeping man repositioned himself. "Whatcha
talking about Borian. You've known my name for a long time lad. It's Verif..."

Surprised, Derik wrote his name down quickly and continued. "Right...
Borian your best friend?"

Looking across the tiny wooden table at his armored friend he laughed.
"Who else would'ya be?" Patting him on the shoulder he reached for one
the ale's sitting on the table. Green grassed flowed as a cool breeze blew
across the hill. Glancing several leagues away they could see their small
village shining in the afternoon sun. He smiled and took another swig.

"So... Verif what are we doing right now?"

"What we always do fool. Looking at our village. Cleaning up the vagabonds
and thief's that mill about."

"Soldiers we are then?" Borian's voice seemed uncertain.

"Militia, boy! How many times do I have to tell ya lad. Or job is to protect
the village and its surrounding area."

"How long have we been doing this? Have we caught anyone recently"

"Diddly squat for long as I can remember. Nothing bad ever happens
in these parts. Only scuffle or two a month in the local tavern."

"Would you say your best quality is keeping order?"

Verif looked questioningly at his friend. "What's with the twenty
questions?" Getting up he stretched his legs and looked up at the
shining sun. He could hear the leaves rustling in the wind beside them.
"Nah lad. I've always known one thing in my life. I got luck, tons of
it. Is it luck I find myself born to a rich dwarf family, with a close
brother, a talent for smithin and fightin. It gets you a long way in
life... If your lucky to have it. He smirked at his own remark.

"You need luck for where you intend to go?"

"Go? Yes... I was going somewhere. My brother, something about
my brother. Concentrating hard, Verif's brows furrowed.

"My brother he's lost. I have to find him..."

Waking with a start, he jumped up suddenly. He drew his axe as the
chair fell behind him. "Woah, Verif. Be calm, you agreed to an interview
remember?" Derik raised his hands toward Verif. "Everything's ok..."

Looking around the room, he started to recall as he glanced at the
furniture. "Right. I agreed on an interview, which entailed a payment
at the end."

"Well, no that's not how it works. Let me expl..."

"I knew it! You humans are liars and cheats. You messed with the
wrong dwarf!" He glared through his helm at Derik and kicked the
chair that was still on the floor. It flew up in the air and landed
neatly in the corner of the room. Frustrated, Verif went to a cabinet
and slammed the drawers. It simply closed in response.

Glancing up, Verif noticed a neatly packed pile of new parchment.
He grabbed one and crumpled it up in his hand. He threw it on the
ground dramatically. Satisfied, he stormed out of the room.

"Interesting..." Derik said wide-eyed glancing at the door.

[Leopold]

How to Make it On Althanas

This world is broken, dying, and degenerate. Despite its many flaws, however, there are glimmers of hope amidst the ruins. People are tired of all the war, strife, and poverty. For once, the populous of this world are fighting against time, not going along idly with it.

“Are you wasting another evening on that journal?” Ruby sighed.

Leopold looked across his shoulder, stuck out his tongue, and returned to the leather-bound tome. There was no doubt about it; he had intended to do just that. The candle light of his study gave the moment an ambiance of despair and intrigue. Salvar was roaring cold outside, but here, warmth and misery kept the merchant alive.

“People need to know,” he began. He cut himself short when his wife, erudite and well prepared for bullshit, smirked him to silence.

“People need feeding, a roof over their heads, and a place to feel safe Mr Winchester.”

Uh-oh, he said in his private place. When his wife used that nomenclature, he was treading on very thin ice indeed. Come sunrise, he was certain he would be broke financially, or broke physically. Neither was particularly welcome after he had worked so hard to put the door back on the hinges and retailer his suit.

“I am all too aware of that, Ruby.” He decided, perhaps too horridly, to play it dangerously. If he acquiesced to her demands too soon, she would never let him hear the end of it. “If I do not make certain Chronicle is…well, Chronicled, our legacy is for nought.”

“Scribbles on parchment rotting in libraries that is your legacy?” Breaching his inner sanctum, the redheaded matriarch advanced towards the desk. She remained upright, cold, and with arms folded. “I find it hard to believe you are my husband.” She burrowed holes in his back, which he tried to refill with a swig of bourbon and a clearing of the throat.

“Given I have been stabbed, hung, drawn, and quarter, and bankrupted these past four years…”

Ruby pressed her fingertips against the green leather surface of the desk, approaching from the left. Leopold cleared his throat. The almond after-kick of this particular vintage faded in bitter waves. He set the cut-crystal glass onto a pile of accounts, and leant back slowly.

“I am still trying to work out why you all worked so hard to be clandestine, and then chose to publish your recent endeavours in…,” she mock laughed, “the Salvar Herald.” She pushed away from the desk, and began to circle it with a wide berth. Every step was a minuet of malady, every advance a stabbing thrust to Leopold’s resolve.

“Few people know of Luned’s involvement. Using the Herald as a resource is a logical..,” he sighed. “No, it is a brilliant step in the right direction.”

“So tell me, tell me…” The pause showed the merchant his wife’s fiery temperament was not as torrid and confrontational as he had been lead to believe. Her falter told him all he needed to know about her true opinions. She hated his absence, but saw value in his work. “Tell me what you are going to write, and let me be the audience you so crave.”

The office teemed with a flourish of life, and then settled. The light, twilight wreathed in colour, danced and seethed. Leopold turned to the last dying embers in the easterly hearth, and then to the door to the west that lead out into the warehouse. He could see his work as it lived and breathed. Chronicle was becoming so much more than people’s good intentions and honest, upright, morality.” He nodded. He refilled his drink. He poured a fresh measure or Ruby. As he slid it towards her, he folded one leg over the other, and gestured flippantly at the documents before him.

“You’re right.” The statement served as a cessation to their hostility. He downed the drink, smiled, and wrote one line of text in spidery script. When he finished, he scribbled out the paragraphs he had penned before her arrival, and felt immediately satisfied the task done. He stood. He gestured for Ruby to follow him to the parlour, for ‘quality time’, and let the line ring true in his mind as he repeated it.

The merchant Leopold Winchester was unavailable for comment.

[Ashla]

OOC: Once again, this takes place after "On The Concept of Hatred", given that's Ashla's major breakthrough. But yeah, this is not only her insight, but my insight on her future. Heh, heh, heh, heh... >:]

Ashla sighed, this was going to be interesting. Julius suggested her for an interview for a newspaper for Radasanth's newspaper. He told her that he thought it would be a good opportunity for her to gain support for her plans ahead. Ashla just didn't know, if she did gain allies from this would she also gain enemies? Whatever she thought, there was no turning back now. She entered the building where her interview would take place.



Ashla sat down in the cushion chair in a rather fantastic room. There was nothing but fancy and nice everywhere in the red, gold, and blue room. Expensive furniture and delightful painting were everywhere. Ashla was wide eyed as she sat down on the seat that the man named Ronald had given her. The cozy love seat was gold with many swirls on it. Ashla sighed in her vast nervousness and closed her eyes as Ronald in the suit and tie sat down in a similar red colored seat next to her.

"Ashla... Icebreaker was it?" He asked her in a natural voice.

"Indeed." Ashla responded, opening her bright blue eyes and turning to smile at him with her best.

Ronald beamed, "Well, for starters, do you have any recent moments that you consider great in yourself? Tell us about it!"

Ashla thought back, "Well, I did fight in the Althanas Leagues... I did terribly." Ashla's head dropped.

The man awed her and asked her about anything else.

"Well... I did take back my home land." Ashla lifted her legs onto the seat as well and sat slanted with her legs dangling aside.

The man scoffed at her posture and asked, "Well, where are you from then? How did you take it back?"

"Eiskalt." Ashla simply responded, her legs falling back towards the floor again."

"Eiskalt? Never heard of it. Usually, those of Corone know a lot of neat places, would you mind telling me a bit about you country?"

"Sure," Ashla drew a huge breath, "Eiskalt is a snowy country chucked inside a rind of mountains. Due to this the country is very isolated and is barely known in Althanas." Ashla paused then spoke again, "I am from one of the two noble families who ruled Eiskalt a whiles back."

"Which are?" The man inquired.

"The Icebreakers."

"Oh right..."

Ashla chuckled in amusement and continued, "The Icebreakers and Tabors worked side by side until my oldest uncle, Fulgur I, grew to have a grudge against us all and wiped most of us out."

"Wow," the man was wide-eyed, "Aside you who survived??"

Ashla sighed, "My cousin Fulgur II, Julius... We survived. Eventually we all got together and kicked Fulgur I off his monarchy throne." Ashla blinked at the memory, "His son, Fulgur II, took his place and is currently restoring order. Julius and I left."

"And why?" The man asked.

"Because I never belonged there in the first place," Ashla's tone grew from honored to mournful, "Despite everything I was of no use there. I decided to come back to Althanas where I've been growing up beforehand; and of course, Julius came with me." Ashla had to chuckle at that last part.

"And why did you two come here?" Ronald asked.

"Because..." Ashla thought, "Because I don't know what exactly I want to do yet, but I do know one thing. Althanas is in a much tighter fix than Eiskalt, I took care of things in Eiskalt, now it's time to fix things here. I-I have no idea how to do this yet, but I want to be a justice seeker. I want to be somebody to helps to calm things down around here and restore complete order."

"And- and what plans do you have?" Asked the reported.

"I have no idea..." Ashla sighed, "I have considered joining the Ixian Knights or starting a group of my own though... But how the heck do I do that?"

Ronald blinked with his hazel eyes, "Well, you just do what you think is best. You'll find a way, I'm sure."

"Yep, I am too." Ashla replied.

The two laughed and Ronald stood up, Ashla followed. "Well, it's been great talking to you, Ashla Icebreaker. May your noble blood run deep as you peruse your quest of justice and mercy."

Ashla smiled again, "Thank you."

Ronald then showed Ashla the door with a kind smile. Ashla was surprised... She actually enjoyed that! It was most likely because she had finally gained some attention from somebody, it made her feel good. Thanks, Julius. And she beamed all the way out of the building.

[Sanste]

“Sit, sit, sit, I don't have all day boy,” said the reporter in an annoyed tone. “Ok, you are Sanste Earthrend, I take it. Could you give me some details on the league battles you were in? Try to keep it to a minimum. I'm a busy person and frankly, you're lucky that you are being even considered for a small section of our paper.”

“Okay... Well, I'm Sans..”

“I already know who you are, just get down to the details, young man!”

“Well, I went up against an assassin for my first match. I didn't catch his name but believe he was part of some larger organization. He might have been after me due to all my father's works.”

“Ok, good enough. I have an assassin that attempted to torture you for your family's secrets.”

“No. The assassin, seemed to want to evaluate my...”

“Whatever, let's move on. I believe you had another match with the famous and beautiful Mrs. Kyla? What was she like?”

“Yes, I had a match with her. I thought it was some kind of mistake...”

“I don't care about details like that. Just focus on Mrs. Kyla.”

“Well, I think she was a beautiful and very nice person. Seemed almost like an angel. She was very gracious and agreed to play a game of “hide and ...”

“Back to Mrs. Kyla, young man. Surely there was more to her? Readers love to hear about her you know.”

“But wasn't this interview for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes, but frankly, people won't bother reading about you unless there's a big name in your article like Mrs. Kyla. Now back on topic, I only have a few more minutes.”

“Well, I didn't really have much time to see her, just for maybe a minute...”

“Sigh, kids nowdays don't know how to how to pay attention,” the reporter thought to himself. “Okay, let's just get the conclusion. What would you say your best skill or ability is based on your league battles? Also, what are your goals from here on out? Be quick, I have to start another interview in a minute.”

“Well, I think it would be my ability to create and control multiple golems. They...”

“That's enough, now what are your goals?”

“Well, I would like to become a master golem crafter like my father and explore the world.”

“Ok, thank you. You may go now,” the man quickly dismissed Sanste. “Sigh, what a waste of my time. This kid obviously is not worthy of appearing in an article. Seriously, I need to talk with this stupid underlings who obviously don't know how to find people with a good story.”

[Sir Walter]

“What???? I have to interview a 'death knight'? Are you crazy! Everyone knows those things just slaughter villages and towns for fun.”

“Shut up and do the job unless you rather not have a job. Besides, I heard this one is apparently a 'righteous warrior'. Not sure how true the rumors are but it got into the Ixian Knights so apparently he is safe enough. Then again, they have worked with a demon before... Anyways, just get to the job. I think you'll be safe enough. If not, we'll let your family know what happened to you.”


I could see the reporter nervously walk in the room. Even though I was fully covered in my armor, this man had apparently heard the fact that I was a death knight. “Well, I can't really blame the poor man. Everyone knows death knights are created with evil magic and always cause destruction. Back when I was alive, I probably wouldn't have thought it was possible for there to be a good death knight myself.”

“Hello good sir. My name is Sir Walter and despite what the rumors might have said, I'm not going to hurt you. Even though I'm dead, I follow the knightly oaths I swore back when I was first knighted,” I said trying my best to sound pleasant.

Unfortunately, the reporter seemed frightened by the chilling tone that came out. I could see him shaking near the door refusing to get closer. “Um-m... Mrrr. Wal-ter, youuu said? Coo-uld y-ooou tellll mm-me aabbbout y-ourself?”

“I apologize for my frightening voice. I know how you must feel having to interview me. If I were in your shoes, I would be scared to death too since I always heard death knights are evil. But it seems like the gods had a different plan for me and allowed me to break free of the evil mage's enchantment and slay him. Afterward, I tried to kill myself figuring that it was unnatural for me to exist in this form. However, each time I tried, I ended up reviving in a few days. After that, I decided the gods must have a reason probably for me to help out the world with this second chance.”

“Mayybe theyy maaadde a misstake?”

“That I do not konw. I have prayed and ask the Gods why but they have been silent so far. But then again, I'm just a poor knight who isn't worthy of their attention. Also, please take a seat if that makes you more conformable. If you don't want to get close to me, I understand.”

“Yeesss, ttth-at migght be good.”

“Well, if you have any further questions, feel free to ask. If not, I'll just ramble on and hope that can give you some good material to write about.... Let's see. I grew up in a family of knights to serve a local lord over a small town. It was a peaceful place and everyone was very nice there. I spent more time repairing buildings and helping out with farm work than I probably did having to enforce the laws. But I would always make sure to practice to keep in shape if anything did happen. People always seemed to say I was a hard worker but I felt like it was a honor to be able to serve the nice folk around me. I hope to be able to serve once again with this second life that has been granted to an undeserving person like me.”

“Umm, it was goodd hearing about yyour storry but the time is up. Thhank you aand bbest of luck.”

[Roht Mirage]

Sometimes, Astarelle Set'Roh liked to go out for a nice dinner. Pub food did curdle the stomach after a time, and the mess hall at Ixian Castle -while pleasant in both taste and portion- served an equal amount of noise. So, on this evening, she was dining in a restaurant on the finer side of Radasanth. “Dominic's Rose” it was called; the kind of place were couples celebrated special occasions or lonely misers satiated one form of emptiness.

She appeared to be of the latter category with an elderly Coronian woman's face painted over her own in the medium of sand. Her finely-crafted yet draping dress was appropriate for the venue, and the humble collection of jewelry -notably the wedding band- marked her a widow clearly enough that others looked piteously away. It was very pleasant. Just her, a medium rare steak, the leftover tails of six buttery garlic-grilled shrimp, and a copy of the Radasanthian Reader.

Of course, she didn't read it for information. It was purely entertainment.

There were tales of a creature in the Radasanth sewers. Sightings from city workers. Reports of... singing in the pipes. Only in Corone.

Incidences of pickpocketing were down drastically in the Bazaar. The City Guard credited their new, expensive gear for scaring the low-lifes straight, but she knew better. Those kids are an Ixian problem now, and you're welcome.

Smallgood's Fashion and Accessories was advertising their newest clothing line.


Infirmary (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?26023-Making-of-the-Hirsute-Hipster)

Life hurts. Bandage it up.

Included were multiple full-color pictures of young, happy people in an assortment of bandages and tourniquets. Mostly... in lieu of actual clothing. At the bottom was the logo for the new line; a goofy doodle of an orc, heavily-bandaged and sporting a pair of sunglasses that must have been the only recovered remains of a fashionista tragically killed by a falling rainbow.

Kids. Why, back in my day-

Astarelle froze with the fork halfway to her mouth. Whoa, too far into character. I'm only twenty-blasted-five. With a click, she placed her fork and its cube of meat back onto the plate. She removed her false thirty-years-out-of-date glasses so she could worriedly massage the bridge of her nose. This is happening way too much lately. She blinked, gave her head a subtle shake, and lifted her glasses only to see a spot of blood on the lens. When you learn to eat in the desert... she thought with a small chuckle. Her napkin, stained with blood and shrimp grease, was on its last life, so she willed a whisper-thin stream of sand from the long sleeve of her dress. It scraped the lenses cleaner then they had been when she started her meal. Where would I be without-

Footfalls, perceptible only as they suddenly ceased, were followed by a quiet gasp beside her. Bury me. Not another Cell fan, she cursed, wishing that she could have said something misdirecting in her old woman voice. For her own comfort, she preferred not to do the sand-against-vocal-cords trick while eating.

“Miss Mirage?” the witness asked with an excited and very familiar chirp.

Worse... Why can't it just be a fan?

Enthusiastically, the young man slipped into the seat across from her. Under his narrow-brimmed hat, he eyed her up and down, not fooled one bit, but clearly impressed. “No wonder I haven't been able to find you again.”

Astarelle felt her brow wrinkle, which -combined with the false wrinkles of her disguise- produced a surface you could scrub clothes upon. “Mr. Tomb,” she intoned dryly, more a statement of fact than a greeting.

“Derdum Tome, actually.”

She closed her eyes and luxuriously chewed the neglected cube of steak.

“Um... Miss Mirage?” Derdum asked uncertainly as he stopped halfway through the unsheathing of a notepad and pen from his jacket's inner pocket.

She cut another piece of meat ever so intently.

“Miss Set'Roh,” he offered quietly.

“Why hello there, Mr. Tome,” Astarelle crooned softly for his ears alone. “It's been a long time.” Her voice lapsed into regret toward the end, not-so-subtly adding, “But now long enough.”

He sighed, placing the pen and pad, unopened, onto the table. “I know you aren't the celebrity type. That's...” he gave a small smile for her disguise, “obvious enough. But, the readers really do enjoy hearing about you. I've never received as many letters as I did for our last interview.”

Astarelle tongued a piece of half-masticated meat into her cheek and muttered, “I bet they were-”

“No, no. Very few of them were lecherous. Only two fans included obscene pictures that they, I suppose, thought I could pass along to you.”

She shuddered, almost choking during the inadvertent swallow.

“I burned them. The photos, not the fans.”

“A pity...”

Derdum gave her a forced reporter chuckle, then plucked up his pen and teased it against the cover of the notepad. “Another interview, Miss Set'Roh?”

“Do you have to?” she sighed.

He gestured to the paper laying open beside her plate. “It's that... or a sewer monster update.”

She almost choked again. He was making it impossible to enjoy the remains of her meal. “That was you?” She scanned the page for his name.

He nodded gravely. “Investigated it myself. Had to take three showers after. The singing is strangely beautiful.”

She swallowed and looked up at him, eyes wide, questions ready, but he recoiled into his jacket. She felt a glimmer of pity. At the very least, she could be more pleasant than a sewer – when she wanted to be. “Okay,” she said, trying very hard not to sigh.

“Excellent,” he chirped, exuberance once more oozing out his pores as he flipped the notepad open. “First question. What has the Cell champion been up to all these weeks?”

“Hiding in Ixian Castle. Trying to avoid crazy people. Turns out that's where the craziest have been congregating,” she responded with a grimace.

Derdum hummed and hawed with his pen on the page. “Can I rephrase that to... not ruffle so many feathers?” Astarelle responded with a flippant wave. “Thank you,” he said, jotting quickly. “Next question. What do you see on the horizon for Roht Mir- Astarelle Set'Roh? Another championship perhaps?” He winked.

She just stared blankly. The last piece of steak wavered on her fork, forgotten. “Why would- Bury me, no! As long as Sei's happy riding on the free publicity I've given him so far, I'm keeping my head down.”

The reporter staggered over his tongue uncharacteristically. “But, you're-”

“Finished, dear?” asked the young, chipper waitress as she walked by, arms full of dirty plates. Astarelle popped the last piece into her mouth (still no sand to do the old woman voice) and nodded sweetly.

“Well,” Derdum said sadly, proffering a grimace at the waitress' back, “I won't hold you up. Good luck in the Magus Cup, Miss Set'Roh. If you have time for any between-match interviews, I'll...” He drifted into silence at the sound of Astarelle's teeth grating on the tines of the fork.

“The what?” she growled.

Derdum answered very slowly and carefully. “The Magus Cup. One-on-one battles. My readership are interested to see how you change your tactics. Are... are you okay?”

Sei. Sei puss-sucking Orlouge. You mute, sun-scorched puddle of donkey piss. You sand-licking, harpy-bedding-

“Miss Set'Roh?”

“I need to go,” she informed him as she set her fork down. She performed both speech and action with very commendable grace given the writhing pit of venom behind her facade.

“Here's your check,” said the kindly waitress, appearing behind her like a specter.

Astarelle took a moment to press a hand to her cheek. A miniscule amount of sand jumped between her lips. By Jya's tits! It itched in the throat. “Thank you for treating me to dinner, Derdy,” she cooed at the reporter in the wobbling, gravely voice of advanced age.

“What?” Derdum squeaked before the waitress cut in.

“Oh, that's such a sweet thing to do for your grandmother,” she said, her voice tilting with appreciation that was slightly more than professional.

“But, she's not-” he stammered. The young lady's appreciation turned instantly and powerfully into disgust. “I mean, I wouldn't mind,” he continued, though it was hard to hear over the sound of him digging his own grave.

Derdum, Derdum... How did I know you were the eternal bachelor type?

Smiling mischievously under the wrinkles, Astarelle hunched her shoulders and shuffled for the door. Yet, venom boiling, she couldn't help but add, “Oh, and do try to respond to my letters. The postman tells me you are receiving them.” She could feel the waitress' glare heating the restaurant so much that it might burst into flames on her exit. Hopefully, she could wield as much when she returned to Ixian Castle. Sei “Silence” Orlouge was going to say “sorry” if she had to choke it out of him.

[Rapture]

Note: This is more of a report written up on Rapture's town before he and his family were forced to move away. No one actually knows that Rapture and his family are the ones responsible, they think it must be some sick evil human.

“Town of the living dead”, “Town of the unspeakable horrors”, “Living Hell”, are just some of the names for this small place. Only recently were people actually able to verify the rumors and crazy stories about the lord and his people. While we don't know the whole truth, it seems like the tales were true and may have been far worst than anyone could have imagined. The following report will hopefully settle the issue once and for all and allow the lord to be put to death for his crimes against humanity.

The town itself is nothing really remarkable. If anything, it seems almost too normal for all the stories. There's the farmlands, town with walls, the shops in the middle. The merchants that passed through when the town was still around said that it was like almost any other small city in regard to buildings. When the investigators came through, they agreed since they could find nothing wrong with the houses and shops. Anyone can visit it today to verify if they don't believe it. While nature is quickly reclaiming the area, the buildings should be stable enough to last for a number of years after this report.

However, the lord's castle on the other hand is a different story. The merchants that were interviewed said they could hear screams and yells as if they were in hell. The locals that they asked seemed to pretend that nothing wrong and that they couldn't hear anything. After the town was taken by a neighboring lord, investigators and treasure hunters were able to uncover the dark secrets hidden.

For the most part, the castle was just a standard layout. Treasures found were nothing impressive. But there was obviously something still going on since screams could be heard throughout the castle. After magical analysis, detectives were finally able to narrow the source down to the prison cells. On the first glace, everything seemed fine. Just nine standard smelly prison cells. Rotten bones, blood marks, messages were scattered around. But after going over every bit of the cells, the ninth was discovered to have a secret passage to some room below.

Getting down to the room proved to be very difficult. At least six men were killed and more were seriously injured from magical traps. And that wasn't the worst, the traps were created to cause pain and leave permanent injuries instead of just simply killing the person. They didn't kill anyone instantly but cut off limbs, injected painful poisons, and some even inserted some unknown tiny worms that ate the men from inside out with them screaming until their death. It took a whole week for a powerful wizard to arrive and disarm the traps. During this time, the screams never stopped.

When they finally made it through, every single of the investigators lost their meal. To this day, some of them are still insane from the shocking sight. While it was no surprise that this was the lord's torture chamber, the remains were just so horrible, it left everyone wondering what human could be capable of these cruelties. The walls were covered in complete human skins that had been carefully preserved. The screams were coming from people bound in some kind of machine that somehow kept them alive but inflicted pain. The detectives were unable to save any since the machine seems to keep them at the very edge of death and when removed, they died. There were even people kept alive without their skin in some twisted magic. A few people looked completely fine just asleep somehow. However, when an attempt was made to try and remove them, most of them died a gruesome death. Some exploded, some fell apart into pieces, and the worst part was that a lot of them awoke and lived for like a hour screaming in that state. It's like the torturers left them as a present.

As for the few that were successfully removed in one piece, the investigators took them outside and tried to save them. Since it seemed like they were under some mind control or something, a few mentalists were called to try and peer into their minds. The goal was to hopefully to lock away the mental images and save the person. In the worst case, information could be retrieved about the people responsible and then the person could be put to rest. It seemed like a good idea however, it completely backfired. The mages instantly lost their minds and went crazy. One died choking on his own blood, another just started yelling and screaming. In the end, all that could be said obviously, it was some powerful mental torture and thus the people were put to rest and buried.

There were far more examples of extreme cruelty but these should be enough to capture the least of it. In the end, a wizard burnt away all the traces in the room with a powerful flame. With this, no one should hopefully have to ever see such concentrated evil again. It's unknown if the lord himself was the one doing it. But either way, he should be put to death since he knew what was going on and was in charge of the castle.

With all this knowledge, it makes sense now why the people of the town fought to death against the invading lord instead of surrendering. They had something worst than death to fear if they ran and somehow their lord won. Hopefully, the people responsible for these cruelties died in the battle and are now suffering in hell. If this is true, all that remains is to send their lord there too. Otherwise, these purely evil humans need to be brought to justice as soon as possible before they mess up other people's life. Actually, the lord and his men don't even deserve the right to be called human after their deeds.

[Fox Owen Xavier]

“Hmm, I guess I should make some new year's resolutions. Might be a bit late but better now then never,” Fox said out aloud to himself. “Let's see... What skills would I like to learn or improve on. Well, I guess there is always potions. I'm probably equal in skill to most experts but it would be nice to have that old witch to acknowledge my skills for once.”

“Going on that, I suppose I need to start searching for more rare ingredients to make some more powerful potions. It's great and all to be able to help and provide a lot of smaller potions but I won't be able to complete any legendary items without equal or greater materials to work with.”

“Another useful skill would be to learn more about enchantments, rituals, runes, and those type of stuff. I finally finished those big beginner books so might be good to trade them in for a more advance one once I reach a large city. I guess people rather study magic skills like fireballs and ice weapons since they are more flashy and are quick to cast and do damage. Well, on the bright side, that makes second hand books cheap to get.”

“... Now that I think about it, I really hate direct combat which is why I'm focusing on a bunch of other stuff. So far, I have been able to escape with my speed and another skills but maybe I should learn some basic defense skills. Sword and shield? No, that's too heavy. Bow and arrow? Hmm... Maybe. Oh great, I'm already back to indirect combat. Need something close up.... Wait, how about a staff like a lot of travelers seem to have. Seen a few fight with their quarterstaffs and I must say that it seems fairly effective. Probably cheaper than a sword too. Let's put that down as a skill to learn over the next year.”

“Well, sounds like a good mix of stuff to learn. The old witch always said to not bite off more than you can chew. Although, she did say that I was better most others my age at focusing on things and getting them done. Maybe I should toss in visit my home at the end of the year as a resolution... Or I could also try and find my parents. I'm sure they are out there somewhere adventuring as usual. Maybe they even had another kid. Ha! I might even have a few brothers and/or sisters. That definitely would be interesting. Now that I think about it, why not try to find my parents? I travel around enough, if I just ask around in the places I go, I'm sure I'll eventually hear something about them. Wonder what they would think about me now.”

[Lye]

The dank, musty stench brought the consciousness back to me. My ears were ringing and the confines of my skull throbbed as though my heart had found new residence. The taste of copper filled my mouth and my tongue made note of a few teeth that had gone missing since the last time I checked. Through the ringing I began to hear voices again, they were familiar but only recently.

"...doing here?!" It shouted. All I could see was darkness.

"What?" I mumbled, the voice stifled by the rough cloth grating against my lips. Something drove into the side of my head with terrible force, and again, the ringing returned.

"...n't ask you again! What are you doing here?!" It demanded.

"What?" I restated, quickly adding more since the previous usage resulted in more head trauma. "I-I don't know!"

Again, the bludgeoning ensued and another tooth abandoned ship.

"The forest, what were you doing in the forest?!" It shouted, the voice was stern and dry.

"Forest?" I inquired, the impacts doing little to help the memory. "I... I was looking into a rumor. Please. Don't hit me aga--"

It happened anyway and my body added it to the stinging numbness which was already as capacity.

"Shut it!" He was not a man of a versatile vocabulary. "What rumor?! What do you know?"

"Black spiders!" I shouted. Anything to avoid another gap in my pristine smile. "Remnants of an ancient war! They were rumored to be around here! That's all I know!"

"You think he's telling the truth?"

"He sounds genuine."

The other voice sounded older, but his observation allowed me to loose a deep breath of relief. A shooting pain shot through me as I attempted to exhale and the breath became a wet cough to spatter against the shroud over my head. I tried to bend over, but the chains pushed against my ribs and served to increase the pain. It became apparent that I had a few fractures.

"Hmph, do you know where you are boy?" The more menacing of the two inquired.

I felt the rough fabric rake against my face, particularly the nose, and the sudden change in lighting drew my head back. The air was certainly cleaner without the soiled garb hugging at my senses. It was blurry at first, but the craggy walls of a cave came into wall, accented by the dancing flicker of torch flames. My oppressors were next to fade into view. One was tall, easily six feet, and with odd white hair. His narrow green eyes seemed to pierce my soul. The scar over the left eye was the indication of the one that had knocked me out in the first place and most likely responsible for the swollen mess my face had become. I tried to scowl, but the muscles mocked my attempts. The other was an Ai'Brone, as ordinary as they come and dressed in those plain brown robes. Was this the Citadel?

"T-The Citadel?" I mimed from my thoughts. The one with the piercing gaze smiled. I couldn't see his face thanks to a strange red scarf, but that glint in his eyes was all I needed to see.

"The Citadel is paradise compared to here." He replied with a whimsical glee.

"Then where the fuck am I then?!" I shouted in anger, but this only coaxed him closer.

"I suppose telling the dead won't hurt... You're in Black Mist Hollows," he hissed. I had never heard of such a place.

"Wait! Dead?!"

He pulled himself away and motioned to the monk with a flick of his wrist. The elder's face grew sour, but he turned and left out of my view. It was just me and him now, and that sent a chill down my spine.

"I didn't hit you hard enough to deafen you, I'm sure you know what I mean." Those eyes were soulless, they ran over me like an object of temptation. I felt... violated.

"What do you want from me?!"

"Cliche, but I'll indulged you," he jeered, transitioning himself to the crude table pushed against the rocky walls. "I'm going to start with your abdomen. Spill some more of that blood. I'm done with the... friendly questioning."

My skin grew cold and the depths of my stomach churned. He was serious. The metallic clink forced my hairs on end as he shifted around the utensils gathered in front of him. He would lift an item in contemplation, my eyes would grow wide, then he would place it back down to produce an even more vile looking instrument.

"W-who are you?! Let me go!" I struggled but the chains that bound me were too kind to remind me of broken ribs and dislocated wrists. I couldn't suppress the guttural groan of pain which transitioned to another wet cough. I was going to die.

"Me?" He turned around, his form blurred through my misty eyes but the barbed stake in his clasp stood clear. "The Bone Eater? Viper of Salvar? Green-Eyed Demon? How about the scarf? Surely you've heard of me one way or another."

I paused, but the names he mentioned were not strangers to my ears. The locals at the pub had made it known to be cautious of this area. Something about hands? Yes, I remember...

"The Crimson Assassin..."

"Very good, leader of The Order of the Crimson Hands. Here..."

A sharp pain exploded under my rib cage. It drove deeper and I felt it - every barb as it pushed through me. I opened my mouth to scream, but the hoarse gurgle replaced an ear piercing shrill. The edges of my vision grew black but the pain refused to let me sleep as it pushed further and further inside.

"A reward for knowing too much..."

The tip sent another flare of agony through every fiber of nerve and the air at my back grew cold with moisture. Impaled, I struggled to take a breath against. The more air that filled my lungs, the more my body informed me of the object that didn't belong. Luckily, he stopped its advance and I was able to muster some words.

"Why... me?" was all I could think to say through the euphoria of pain.

"Oh it's not just you," the sound of steps preceded further tones of haunting metal on metal. "I plan to show all figures of power the same hospitality I've given you."

"Heh... Hospitality?" I was surprised at my own amusement of the irony. He and I did not have the same humor. He moved with blinding speed and a burning flame erupted from my shoulder. Through blurred vision I watched as he flayed the muscle from bone.

"As I was saying..." He continued to remove layer after layer to the twisted music of meat splashing into blood - my blood. "We aren't quite ready to have people revealing us to the world. You see, that's why you won't be walking away from here. I must admit though, your timing is impeccable; it has been a while since my last... session."

I jostled myself to get free, but it only angered his blade. The cutting became tearing and the combined pain was too much. I began to fade, and the pain began to... comfort me.

"So soon?" He mused. "I figured you to have more fight in you..."

"Let... me... live..." the words barely made their way out. I felt weak.

"Hmm..."

The cutting stopped.

"Since you asked so nicely..."

Relief came out as moist groans. I felt tired. Sleep, I wanted to sleep.

"To hell you go."

It drove into my chest. My eyes shot wide. I looked down, but my heart spit out its last breath of scarlet. The silence was welcoming, and the light... it...

[hoytti]

January Vignettes Results

Thank you all for participating in the vignette. Our winners are Verif and BlueGhostofSeaside respectively.


Tobias Stalt receives 100 experience.
Use of Topic: Perfect! It was a great interview.
Creativity:* A love interest between the reporter and the reported was interesting.
Mechanics:* You had a perfect score here.
Notes: I actually want to learn more about your character after reading this.


Verif receives 200 experience and 200 gold.
Use of Topic: Done indeed.
Creativity:*Questioned in his sleep! Interesting.
Mechanics:*one mistake “a ornate table” should be “an ornate table” .
Notes: Sleep talking is always interesting.


Leopold receives 250 experience.
Use of Topic: Took me a third look but was there
Creativity:*Creativity high.
Mechanics:*Ton of spelling problems. examples leant = lent, nought = naught, brilliantstep = brilliant step
Notes: I was confused throughout the entire thing till the third time.


BlueGhostofSeaside receives 320 experience and 150 gold.
Use of Topic: Congratulations, you're in the paper.
Creativity:*Typical Interview.
Mechanics:*No problems.
Notes: I liked it, but what was her best point?


Sanste receives 100 experience.
Use of Topic: It is an interview.
Creativity:*What a horrible journalist.
Mechanics:*No problems.
Notes: Well, I would like to learn about him.


Sir Walter receives 100 experience.
Use of Topic: Perfect
Creativity:*I like the fear coursing though the Reporter.
Mechanics:*Only two mistakes.
Notes: I love this story, especially with the reporter never calming down.


Roht Mirage receives 300 experience.
Use of Topic: It was quick, but there.
Creativity:*Like always, your creativity shines.
Mechanics:*Only one mistake, you didn't put a space after a period.
Notes: Well, you showed her hate for the spotlight. I like that.


Rapture receives 0 experience.
Use of Topic: Not a Questioned/Answered story.
Creativity:*Your creativity is high in this story.
Mechanics:*Okay, only one mistake.
Notes: I liked the story, but it wasn't a Questions/Answer Story.


Fox Owen Xavier receives 100 experience.
Use of Topic: I'm just guessing it is an interview as there is nothing but monologue here.
Creativity:*I didn't get to see anything at all.
Mechanics:*Perfect.
Notes: Purely monologue, next time give me a setting.


Lye receives 0 experience.
Use of Topic: Did not follow prompt.
Creativity:*New company not wanting to be discovered. Perfect
Mechanics:*Perfect
Notes: You had to leave a cliffhanger didn't you.

Okay everyone, that is the scoring, but now there are a few things I need to discuss.

The first is the reason Rapture & Lye both got a zeros. Rapture had a great story. However, he didn't stick to the prompt. I was lenient to the point where if you had your character being asked a question then he answered then you would get points. However, Rapture didn't have this questioned/answered format. Because of this I am unable to give him points.

Fox was also close to this. However, since his character is asking himself questions and then answering them it is still a Question/Answer format.

Lye, after relooking looking over the story and the prompt I determined that since you were being interrogated and was not about your best point, I could not give you the points.

The second thing is the the use of "a" and "an."


The word "a" is used whenever the sound following it is a consonant. For example. The whale is a he. That is a monkey. That dog is a hound.

Okay, the word "an" is used whenever the sound following it is a vowel. For example. We only have an hour left. Thats an Owl? How is an ostrich a bird? The "h" in hour is silent. So the sound "ou" is the first sound you hear. That is a vowel sound, so the "a" has to be "an."

Anyway, that was all I needed to say. So thanks again for joining the Vignettes and see you next time.

[Lye]

EXP & GP have been added.

For this February's Vignette, I will be co-judging it with Hoytti. We look forward to the next month's winners! Congratulations to BGoS and Verif! Better luck next time to myself and Rapture!

Also, if you ever have questions, feel free to PM me or any of the judges. We will be glad to help you out the best we can.