*M i d n a*
Æsir Scribe
Welcome, Zders, to the voting phase of Story Contest #4. Sorry for the long wait. I got busy with some stuff. Anyway, to what matters:
1. If you are supporting us with your vote, which indeed is necessary to choose a winner, please read all entries, don't just vote for a random one. (Take your time reading if you must, as the poll will be opened a week's length) Vote for the one you enjoyed reading the most. Thank you kindly for the support.
2. You can leave comments as to why you voted for that story, but it is not mandatory. However, know that a little feedback can help the writer become better.
3. Participants, you can vote, too, if you want, but you cannot vote for your own story. Also, please do not come and say which is your submitted piece. Note that you don't have to vote if you don't feel comfortable.
4. This poll will close on Friday 12th of September 2014.
5. Voters will get points for their support.
Archangel’s Hall of Fame
Story Contest #1 Winner: FireVsIce
Story Contest #2 Winner: Mamono101
Story Contest #3 Winner: Naruko
Poem Contest #1: Firice da Vinci, A Link In Time, Mido
Story Contest #4 Themes were the following:
1. Fantasy Style (Means you will have to write your story based in a fantasy world, either already existent, like Middle Earth, or create your own)
2. Real World (You have to base your story in our real world)
3. Dream World (As weird as it sounds, yeah, your story has to take place within a dream)
A. Swords and Magic (Your story has to feature swords and magic)
B. Pistols and Axes (Your story has to feature pistols and axes)
C. Lances and weapon of your choice (Your story has to feature lances and any weapons of your choice)
X. Knights and Dragons (Your story has to feature knights and dragons)
Y. Demons and Royalty (Your story has to feature demons, and royalty, such as a king, queen, etc.
Z. Student/Scholar and Peasants (Your story has to feature a student/Scholar and peasants)
1. If you are supporting us with your vote, which indeed is necessary to choose a winner, please read all entries, don't just vote for a random one. (Take your time reading if you must, as the poll will be opened a week's length) Vote for the one you enjoyed reading the most. Thank you kindly for the support.
2. You can leave comments as to why you voted for that story, but it is not mandatory. However, know that a little feedback can help the writer become better.
3. Participants, you can vote, too, if you want, but you cannot vote for your own story. Also, please do not come and say which is your submitted piece. Note that you don't have to vote if you don't feel comfortable.
4. This poll will close on Friday 12th of September 2014.
5. Voters will get points for their support.
Archangel’s Hall of Fame
Story Contest #1 Winner: FireVsIce
Story Contest #2 Winner: Mamono101
Story Contest #3 Winner: Naruko
Poem Contest #1: Firice da Vinci, A Link In Time, Mido
Story Contest #4 Themes were the following:
1. Fantasy Style (Means you will have to write your story based in a fantasy world, either already existent, like Middle Earth, or create your own)
2. Real World (You have to base your story in our real world)
3. Dream World (As weird as it sounds, yeah, your story has to take place within a dream)
A. Swords and Magic (Your story has to feature swords and magic)
B. Pistols and Axes (Your story has to feature pistols and axes)
C. Lances and weapon of your choice (Your story has to feature lances and any weapons of your choice)
X. Knights and Dragons (Your story has to feature knights and dragons)
Y. Demons and Royalty (Your story has to feature demons, and royalty, such as a king, queen, etc.
Z. Student/Scholar and Peasants (Your story has to feature a student/Scholar and peasants)
Submissions
Entry 1
The Frozen Fish was quiet and still. The bar, living up to its namesake, was cold and unappreciable. But during the harsh winters of the Gehenna Mountains, it was one of the few inns still working. Few people sat in the Frozen Fish, most there for the food and warmth.
One, however, was there because he enjoyed the silence. Most weren’t fond of chatter in freezing weather, making the Frozen Fish a place he visited frequently. Kane drank a generous swig from his cup, and brushed off the layer of ice forming around his auburn beard.
A young boy, the innkeeper’s son, came up to Kane. “Weapons are not welcome here,” the boy explained, pointing at the longsword hanging from Kane’s belt. “Only knights of Gehenna or of the King can carry them in here.”
“Beat it, kid,” Kane said irritably, laying his mug on the table.
The boy’s face and ears turned red. “Father said that…”
“Tell your dad if he has a problem with my sword, he can say it to me himself,” Kane interrupted. “Now, beat it kid.”
The boy tried to stand his ground for a second, but quickly ran off. He said something to the innkeeper, a fat man with no sense of humor, much like most men of the Gehenna Mountains. The innkeeper began to march over to Kane before the door had burst open.
Three figures dressed in fur lined hoods came barging in, letting snow and wind blow through the Frozen Fish. They each had a golden eye embroidered on the chest of their clothes; the unmistakable insignia of wizards training at Roseton, a nearby school for gifted students.
“It’s freezing out there!” one exclaimed loudly, pulling down his hood to reveal a charming face, with short obsidian hair. His expression of frustration quickly changed as he realized the temperature of the inn as well. “It’s freezing in here too!”
The others pulled down their hoods as well. One had bright red hair, and the other a golden brown. The latter had a deep tan, proof that he hadn’t been in the mountains for long. Every man’s skin turned pale after a few months in the frigid landscape. Little sun ever made it to there.
“Where is the fire?” the tan one quickly asked. Upon seeing it burning in the side of the room, he rushed towards the fire. “I told you we shouldn’t have left, Lance! It’s freezing out here.”
The dark haired student, supposedly called Lance, said, “Master Yel’s alchemy lessons bore me. I wasn’t going to sit through that.” He and the red haired kid took a seat at a table. Lance flipped his hand and a small flame appeared in the air before them. “Sedar, get over here,” Lance demanded.
The tan boy took a seat alongside his companions. The innkeeper came up to them, puffing up his chest. “No magic,” he said bluntly.
Lance slowly cocked his head to look at him. “It’s freezing. I need a fire,” he said coldly.
“There is a fire over there. If you need warmth, you can get over there or run back south.”
Lance stood up, standing a few inches shorter than the innkeeper. The innkeeper’s face flashed red with anger. “I said…”
Lance’s hand shot up, blasting a golden light into the innkeeper’s chest. The large man flew backwards and crashed against the wall. “I heard. ‘No magic.’”
Kane stood.
“Sit down,” Lance demanded. “Or you end up like him.” He gestured at towards the unconscious innkeeper whose son was trying to wake.
Kane unsheathed his sword. “Get out,” he said calmly. “Go back to your pretty little tower at your pretty little school.”
“Who’s going to make me?”
“Leave now and…” Kane was interrupted by a purple beam being shot at him. He threw his sword up, the sharp metal glowing hot against the magic. The red head stood with his hand held out.
Kane stomped up to the red head and grabbed him by the throat. He tightened his grip as his companions watched from the sides. “Get out!” Kane threw the kid back onto the table, knocking him and it over.
“W-we should go…Lance…Sedar, come on. We need to get back before they found out we left,” he said, getting back up. Sedar followed, but Lance refused to move. He kept a cold and cruel stare at Kane.
“Lance, this place is freezing. Let’s just get out of here already,” Sedar implored.
Lance smirked. “You two go ahead. I’ll meet you in a little bit.” Sedar and the other wizard exchanged worrisome glances, and opened the door allowing the wind to howl through. Silence returned after they were gone.
Lance slid an ornate knife from his belt. “So…what is your name?” Lance asked.
“That’s no bother to you,” Kane snapped.
The wizard closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Kane Louth?” Lance said aloud. He opened his eyes proudly. “That is your name is it not? Raised in this godforsaken mountain. And do you know who I am?”
Lance paused, expecting an answer.
“Lance Gehenna. Second son of the Lord of these mountains. Soon to be your lord’s councilor and a very powerful person. Now, as I told you before, sit down on that frozen chair.”
Kane’s jaw clenched and he tightened his grasp on his sword. He had no love for lords or wizards. “No.”
The fire that the wizard had given life to before began dancing through the air. It split into three and spread across the room. “So be it,” Lance said, slicking back his hair. The small flames exploded against the walls, licking at the frozen wood. Their fiery tendrils engulfed the walls.
The travelers and merchants fled the inn, as well as a few women and men who were staying upstairs. But Kane stayed. He stood his ground. “Now it’s warm in here. For the first time you’ll feel warmth.”
The wizard threw the knife, where it stuck deep into Kane’s shoulder. He cried out as crimson seeped out through his clothes. The wizard gestured and the knife flew out, causing Kane to cry out again.
Kane charged forward swinging his blade. Lance tried to back away from the edge, but had forgotten about the table behind him. He stumbled backwards and flopped on the ground. Kane raised his sword and brought it down, managing to slice against Lance’s leg.
“You…” he said, shocked and distraught. A golden light shot out from his hand. Kane threw up his sword to defend against it, as he had with the purple. Lance kept firing and firing. The sword glowed red with heat the longer it went on. Then it became yellow. Then the blade turned white.
The sword could no longer withstand the heat, and melted onto the ground. Dribbles of silver were all that remained of it. When Kane glared back at Lance, he saw that eyes were now black as pitch and his skin was as pale as milk.
Rubble collapsed and ash flew into the air. “You’re crazy,” Kane muttered.
“And you’re dead.” The wizard threw his hand into the air. With one fluid motion he brought down a chunk of the ceiling above, bring part of the second floor with it. Kane had only barely managed to evade it. One flaming piece of a bed caught on his arm, burning it badly.
“What? Without your little sword you have nothing.” Lance forced Kane back against a wall, crashing it down.
“Lance! You gotta stop this!” the tan wizard shouted. “You’re gonna kill yourself in there! You know what happens when you do this too much!”
“Shut up, Sedar! This imbecile will pay for his disobedience. He will die here!”
Kane tried to crawl away, but felt himself rising by Lance’s will. Black veins ran along the wizard’s neck.
He stepped close to the floating body of Kane. “Death,” he whispered as his hand began to glow gold. Lance smiled cruelly. Then his cruelty quickly turned to shock and fear. Kane was dropped to the ground onto the smoking pile of rubble. Lance stepped back and felt around his stomach, where a sharp edge had protruded.
Sedar stood with tears starting in his eyes, and his hand held outright controlling the sword. “I’m…Lance…I’m sorry…” the student muttered, along with a few unrecognizable terms. Sedar stared at his hands in horror before the red headed wizard called for him.
“We’ve got to go! Come on!”
Lance stepped forward into the snow. His eyes turned brown, as did his hair. Color returned to his skin, and the black veins disappeared. He looked no different than the other two. Just as young and weak. He collapsed onto the ground. His blood pooling in the snow.
Kane got up and looked at his body. “Soon to be the lord’s councilor,” he scoffed.
Entry 2
Title: Seeing Red
As the morning light slowly filtered into Marek's bedroom through the semi-closed blinds, he blinked profusely as its garishness accosted his eyes. He was in one of his moods again, and the last thing he wanted to do today was get out of bed. There was nothing in particular that he really wanted to do and he could do just as much nothing from his bed as he could out of it. Besides, going to school would only make him feel worse.
Marek had no idea where the notion that high school was supposed to be the golden years of your life came from, but he was willing to bet that whomever it was that started that rumour, was smoking something. It wasn't as if he hated his teachers or his classes. In fact, it was just the opposite. Knowledge was something that Marek loved to seek out and acquire. It was the other people that attended the school that he despised.
He didn't know what it was that caused others to single him out. He wasn't overweight, underweight, too tall or too small. Neither did he have any notable physical or mental disabilities. He wasn't gay, bi or trans. What he was, in his own humble opinion, was the epitome of normal. But, for whatever reason, there was just this general undercurrent within his student cohort that Marek was not someone worthy of your time unless you wanted to have a bit of "fun" with him. He was tired of being treated as if he was nothing more than a lowly peasant. The consolation prize was knowing that one day, each and every one of them would get theirs. And it would be all the better if he was the one to give it.
When Marek next opened his eyes, it was dark. Rolling out of bed and throwing on some clothes he had lying around, he decided he'd venture outside, where the night could best be appreciated.
The crisp, winter wind was cool against his face and if not for the traffic hurtling by, Marek might have been able to find some semblance of calm within it. Continuing onwards with his night-time stroll, he failed to notice a small group of his peers purposefully walking towards him. As he turned down a darkened side street, a flash of blonde hair with streaks of red was all he had time to register as they jumped him.
The pavement was particularly cold tonight as his face made contact with it. Not realising what was happening, Marek tried to get up, only to discover that something on his back was weighing him down. From the red streaked, blonde hair he knew that this could only be the work of Kayden.
No matter what he tried, Marek was stuck in this prone position. Without warning, there was a sudden pain in his side as Kayden's steel capped boot made contact with the side of his stomach, leaving him winded. Trying desperately to catch his breath, he was hit over and over until his body could no longer take it and he browned out to the sound of people with familiar sounding voices, having fun at his expense.
The school bell's shrill ringing roused him from his sleep. He opened his eyes to find his English teacher glaring at him from the front of the classroom. The rest of the class had already cleared out and he was the only one left. His teacher opened his mouth. It looked as if he was speaking but Marek could hear no sound. He felt disoriented. He didn't even remember walking himself to school this morning and yet, here he was.
His teacher's lips continued to move in what seemed to be a pantomime of castigation. Through the open door, he could see the throng of students going about their normal, daily routines, though not a single sound could be heard. His ears began to ring. Sweat streaming through his pores, he felt nauseated and enraged at their placidity.
Was he really so different from everyone else? Did they really deserve to be considered better than he?
Without waiting for his symptoms to subside, Marek stood up and made for the exit. To his surprise, his teacher did nothing but continue moving his lips. As he reached for the door frame in order to support himself, he discovered that his hand was not as empty as he'd thought. Within it lay a gun, safety off, cocked and ready to fire.
As his eyes scanned the student body, he caught sight of a blonde haired student with red streaks. It was Kayden. With a shaking hand, he raised the gun, took aim and fired three rounds in quick succession. The recoil of the gun interfered with his aim, causing the bullets to ricochet off the drinking fountain, hitting several other students instead. Chaos permeated the walls of the school as the students began running for cover, slipping in the warm, red blood that now flooded the hall.
As luck would have it, Kayden was heading in Marek's direction. With only seconds to react, Marek took a can of deodorant out of his bag and sprayed it in the general direction of Kayden's eyes. As Kayden dropped to the ground, the pain that was registering on his face made Marek grin. Taking Kayden by his hair, Marek dragged him through the halls until they ended up inside their manual arts classroom.
Closing and locking the door behind them, he noticed at the back of the classroom, embedded in one of the desks, was a wooden handled axe. Leaving Kayden writhing in pain, he dislodged the axe from the desk. Taking his new weapon back to his victim, Marek placed his foot on the centre of his tormentor's chest. Tears of pent up rage streaming from his eyes, Marek swung the axe as hard as he could into Kayden's shoulder. The axe was met with resistance as it hit Kayden's clavicle. Letting out a terrified shriek, Kayden began to struggle, desperate to get away.
Marek straddled Kayden's chest and locked his legs around his prey's back to ensure that no escape was possible. With careful precision, Marek slowly shook the axe free from Kayden's flesh, taking pleasure in every shriek he was able to elicit. As Kayden wriggled violently in an effort to shake him off, Marek turned the axe so that the blade was in his hands and he struck Kayden's cheek with all his might. A loud crack could be heard as Kayden's jaw became dislocated. Tears, in amounts Marek had never even imagined were possible, were pouring from Kayden's. It was almost pathetic to see him in this state. Before Marek was finished with Kayden, he would make sure that each tear Kayden sheds, would be in homage to every victim that he had assaulted.
As Kayden howled in agony, Marek turned to face his victim's feet and with three rapid swings down the boy's leg, severed the femoral artery.
As arterial blood spurted forth from the wound, anointing Marek's face, its warmth was somehow comforting and the unyielding screams were like a symphony that had been composed just for him. As he sat on Kayden's chest, he could feel Kayden's breathing becoming laboured until finally, he had breathed his last.
Satisfied that justice had at last been executed, he placed the barrel of his gun into his own mouth, and pulled the trigger.
Marek awoke with a start. The shrill beeping from the heart monitor was the first thing that he noticed when he came to; followed very quickly by a sharp pain in his head, chest and stomach. The bright florescent lighting did nothing to improve his mood and only reminded him of the events of yesterday morning.
From the smell of disinfectant, Marek surmised that he was most likely in a hospital. He could overhear the nurses gossiping about how one of his attackers had called an ambulance and then left him for dead, for when EMTs had arrived on the scene, along with the police, they'd already fled.
Marek was a little surprised that one of them had cared enough to call for help though he was not surprised to discover that their concern did not extend itself to seeing whether or not he help actually ended up arriving. He was also slightly disheartened to discover that everything that had just happened, only happened in his head.
Perhaps, if Marek could learn anything from this experience, it was that Kayden deserves to be put in his place. One of these days he'll be sorry and when that day arrives, Marek could only hope that he was there to see it.
Entry 3
There is a legend of a demon who once controlled the moon. Possessing the lonely and weak-minded child of the Skull, he battled against the Hero of Time in an effort to destroy the land of Termina. Those efforts would be shot down however, as the hero defeated him. Or so it would seem. For although the hero would go on to destroy the demon with a godly form, the actions he took to reach that point would put a ripple in the fabric of time.
Inside a large castle, a man walked the halls, up a spiral staircase. He heard the sounds of his master playing the organ more and more as he got closer. Inside the room, was the figure of a tall green skinned man with orange hair clad in dark clothing. He sat in his chair in front of his piano as his servants lined the stained glass walls. Playing his last chord he asked, “Was that not the most beautiful tune you’ve ever heard?”
“Yes, King Ganondorf,” his servants spoke in unison.
“Truly, a marvelous spectacle I do say. Such as the remnants of those that I defeated,” he extended his arm toward a pair of artifacts, one after the other, “The crown which belonged to that pesky princess, Zelda, and the sword carried by the foolish boy who tried to destroy my plans.”
With those words, the man from the halls entered the room and extended his hand at someone behind him, asking him to wait there. He entered the main room and knelt down, “Master Ganondorf-“
“Address me by my proper title.”
“Sorry, King Ganondorf.”
“That’s better. Now what is so important that you must disturb my peace?”
“There is a young child here, he says he needs to speak with you.”
“What have I said about inviting people into our sanctuary?”
“But sire, I tried to tell him. He insisted he wouldn’t leave until he got a chance to talk to you.”
“Enough of this treason. Send him away. As the ruler of this land, I can choose who and who is not allowed here. And I for sure am not going to allow an audience with a child.”
As he spoke those words, a young kid walked through the door. But he was not like most children. He dressed in a most unusual green and brown attire, which looked as though it was made out of straw. But the most alarming feature was the mask he wore on his face, “My Ganondorf, you dare shoo away someone who holds your fate in his hands?”
“You dare walk into my castle and speak such words to me? Mind your manners. I am the ruler of this world. Who do you think you are?”
“I am the one who decides the next phase of your life. I control the things that happen in this world, just as you control the things in mine. However, as I am vastly more powerful than you, my influence stretches much further than yours, and therefore I can succeed in instances where you fail.”
“If you don’t need me, then why do you appear now?”
“We have a common enemy, an enemy who can throw off both of our rules. A boy known as Link.”
“Hah! I have already dealt with him.”
“You have not. For his soul will continue to come back countless times. And eventually, you will fail. However, I am here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“What could you possibly do for me?”
“Make a deal with me. Give me the ocarina that plays with time, and I’ll give you the key to continue being the ruler of Hyrule.”
“Guards, get this insolent fool out of my presence.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Majora snickered. The guards ran at him, but were caught by tentacles that came out of the mask. They grabbed the guards and smacked them on the ground, knocking them out one by one. Ganondorf lifted up his arm and threw an orb of light at the demon. Majora teleported behind him, kicking him in the back. “I warned you what would happen, but you weren’t wise enough to accept. One day, a hero will return to this land, and you will fall again. But for now, I’ll take what I came here for.”
Majora grabbed the ocarina and jumped out the stained glass. Ganondorf threw another orb at him, but Majora knocked it back with his arm. The orb hit Ganondorf and Ganondorf’s appearance began to change. “What have you done to me?” he yelled.
“This is what happens when you fail to cooperate with a real demon,” Majora laughed. He played the ocarina and disappeared.
Zelda slept in her bed, as Majora sat above her on a shelf. He looked down at her with a grin and extended his arm. Zelda began tossing and turning, as in her dream she saw the image of a green skinned man riding a horse in fire. She woke up from the nightmare and looked up. As she was about to scream, Majora covered her mouth. “Shh, I know the nightmare that haunts you.”
“Who are you?”
“I am a Skull Kid. A kokiri who got lost in the forest. And I have come here to warn you of an approaching danger.”
“How do you know about my nightmares?”
“I am no normal child. I can see into your visions. The green man is real, and soon a boy with a fairy will arrive in this castle. Lead his way on the journey to defeat the traitor who is aiming for your father’s head.”
Zelda went to ask him another question, but he disappeared from sight.
“You’re here at last, hero,” a man said among a throne of black clouds.
Lightning striking below them, a man with a backpack walked up and knelt down, his masks seeming to look at everyone around him. “I have helped another fix the mistake that I made. I am ready to rest Lord.”
As he said that though, the clouds went white and a mask on his backpack disappeared. “What happened to the mask?”
The salesman looked back and realized that the mask of Majora had disappeared. He panicked. “I don’t know. Where could it have gone?”
Another man walked into the scene and looked at the man with the masks. “Your time is not over. You have one more task to complete. Two masks of the same cannot exist at the same time in the same world.”
“Then Majora, he’s-“
“Yes, it would appear that he found a way to return to Termina.”
“But Link is already gone. And we can’t bring him back. The way to Hyrule is shut.”
“Then it is time for you to fulfill your destiny, Hero of Souls.”
“I don’t have power anymore. You know that.”
“Hero, return to Termina. I will grant you the power you need to defeat Majora, once and for all.”
The Happy Mask Salesman, also known as the Hero of Souls, disappeared from Heaven and returned to Termina.
Moments later, he stood at the door to Clock Town as Majora walked through the field and looked up at him. “So, it’s you, the one who ruined my life. You’ve returned again. How many times do I have to send you away? You’re weak, you can’t challenge me anymore.”
“How did you return? I thought Link defeated you.”
“He did, in this time. But, I survived in others and destroyed Termina. But, I grew bored of the world I created. It was all destruction, and there was no one to rule. I came here to right the mistake I made. I came to rule Termina, instead of destroying it.”
“I blame only myself for who you’ve become Majora. If only I could rewind time and fix this,” the hero sighed. “But regardless of whose fault it is, I cannot allow you to do simply as you please. Behold the power of my masks.”
-------------------------
And so the legend goes, that the Hero of Souls and the Demon Majora battled in the fields of Termina. No one knows who the victor was, but the actions of Majora would change the fate of Termina, and cause the timeline of Hyrule to split into three.
The Frozen Fish was quiet and still. The bar, living up to its namesake, was cold and unappreciable. But during the harsh winters of the Gehenna Mountains, it was one of the few inns still working. Few people sat in the Frozen Fish, most there for the food and warmth.
One, however, was there because he enjoyed the silence. Most weren’t fond of chatter in freezing weather, making the Frozen Fish a place he visited frequently. Kane drank a generous swig from his cup, and brushed off the layer of ice forming around his auburn beard.
A young boy, the innkeeper’s son, came up to Kane. “Weapons are not welcome here,” the boy explained, pointing at the longsword hanging from Kane’s belt. “Only knights of Gehenna or of the King can carry them in here.”
“Beat it, kid,” Kane said irritably, laying his mug on the table.
The boy’s face and ears turned red. “Father said that…”
“Tell your dad if he has a problem with my sword, he can say it to me himself,” Kane interrupted. “Now, beat it kid.”
The boy tried to stand his ground for a second, but quickly ran off. He said something to the innkeeper, a fat man with no sense of humor, much like most men of the Gehenna Mountains. The innkeeper began to march over to Kane before the door had burst open.
Three figures dressed in fur lined hoods came barging in, letting snow and wind blow through the Frozen Fish. They each had a golden eye embroidered on the chest of their clothes; the unmistakable insignia of wizards training at Roseton, a nearby school for gifted students.
“It’s freezing out there!” one exclaimed loudly, pulling down his hood to reveal a charming face, with short obsidian hair. His expression of frustration quickly changed as he realized the temperature of the inn as well. “It’s freezing in here too!”
The others pulled down their hoods as well. One had bright red hair, and the other a golden brown. The latter had a deep tan, proof that he hadn’t been in the mountains for long. Every man’s skin turned pale after a few months in the frigid landscape. Little sun ever made it to there.
“Where is the fire?” the tan one quickly asked. Upon seeing it burning in the side of the room, he rushed towards the fire. “I told you we shouldn’t have left, Lance! It’s freezing out here.”
The dark haired student, supposedly called Lance, said, “Master Yel’s alchemy lessons bore me. I wasn’t going to sit through that.” He and the red haired kid took a seat at a table. Lance flipped his hand and a small flame appeared in the air before them. “Sedar, get over here,” Lance demanded.
The tan boy took a seat alongside his companions. The innkeeper came up to them, puffing up his chest. “No magic,” he said bluntly.
Lance slowly cocked his head to look at him. “It’s freezing. I need a fire,” he said coldly.
“There is a fire over there. If you need warmth, you can get over there or run back south.”
Lance stood up, standing a few inches shorter than the innkeeper. The innkeeper’s face flashed red with anger. “I said…”
Lance’s hand shot up, blasting a golden light into the innkeeper’s chest. The large man flew backwards and crashed against the wall. “I heard. ‘No magic.’”
Kane stood.
“Sit down,” Lance demanded. “Or you end up like him.” He gestured at towards the unconscious innkeeper whose son was trying to wake.
Kane unsheathed his sword. “Get out,” he said calmly. “Go back to your pretty little tower at your pretty little school.”
“Who’s going to make me?”
“Leave now and…” Kane was interrupted by a purple beam being shot at him. He threw his sword up, the sharp metal glowing hot against the magic. The red head stood with his hand held out.
Kane stomped up to the red head and grabbed him by the throat. He tightened his grip as his companions watched from the sides. “Get out!” Kane threw the kid back onto the table, knocking him and it over.
“W-we should go…Lance…Sedar, come on. We need to get back before they found out we left,” he said, getting back up. Sedar followed, but Lance refused to move. He kept a cold and cruel stare at Kane.
“Lance, this place is freezing. Let’s just get out of here already,” Sedar implored.
Lance smirked. “You two go ahead. I’ll meet you in a little bit.” Sedar and the other wizard exchanged worrisome glances, and opened the door allowing the wind to howl through. Silence returned after they were gone.
Lance slid an ornate knife from his belt. “So…what is your name?” Lance asked.
“That’s no bother to you,” Kane snapped.
The wizard closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Kane Louth?” Lance said aloud. He opened his eyes proudly. “That is your name is it not? Raised in this godforsaken mountain. And do you know who I am?”
Lance paused, expecting an answer.
“Lance Gehenna. Second son of the Lord of these mountains. Soon to be your lord’s councilor and a very powerful person. Now, as I told you before, sit down on that frozen chair.”
Kane’s jaw clenched and he tightened his grasp on his sword. He had no love for lords or wizards. “No.”
The fire that the wizard had given life to before began dancing through the air. It split into three and spread across the room. “So be it,” Lance said, slicking back his hair. The small flames exploded against the walls, licking at the frozen wood. Their fiery tendrils engulfed the walls.
The travelers and merchants fled the inn, as well as a few women and men who were staying upstairs. But Kane stayed. He stood his ground. “Now it’s warm in here. For the first time you’ll feel warmth.”
The wizard threw the knife, where it stuck deep into Kane’s shoulder. He cried out as crimson seeped out through his clothes. The wizard gestured and the knife flew out, causing Kane to cry out again.
Kane charged forward swinging his blade. Lance tried to back away from the edge, but had forgotten about the table behind him. He stumbled backwards and flopped on the ground. Kane raised his sword and brought it down, managing to slice against Lance’s leg.
“You…” he said, shocked and distraught. A golden light shot out from his hand. Kane threw up his sword to defend against it, as he had with the purple. Lance kept firing and firing. The sword glowed red with heat the longer it went on. Then it became yellow. Then the blade turned white.
The sword could no longer withstand the heat, and melted onto the ground. Dribbles of silver were all that remained of it. When Kane glared back at Lance, he saw that eyes were now black as pitch and his skin was as pale as milk.
Rubble collapsed and ash flew into the air. “You’re crazy,” Kane muttered.
“And you’re dead.” The wizard threw his hand into the air. With one fluid motion he brought down a chunk of the ceiling above, bring part of the second floor with it. Kane had only barely managed to evade it. One flaming piece of a bed caught on his arm, burning it badly.
“What? Without your little sword you have nothing.” Lance forced Kane back against a wall, crashing it down.
“Lance! You gotta stop this!” the tan wizard shouted. “You’re gonna kill yourself in there! You know what happens when you do this too much!”
“Shut up, Sedar! This imbecile will pay for his disobedience. He will die here!”
Kane tried to crawl away, but felt himself rising by Lance’s will. Black veins ran along the wizard’s neck.
He stepped close to the floating body of Kane. “Death,” he whispered as his hand began to glow gold. Lance smiled cruelly. Then his cruelty quickly turned to shock and fear. Kane was dropped to the ground onto the smoking pile of rubble. Lance stepped back and felt around his stomach, where a sharp edge had protruded.
Sedar stood with tears starting in his eyes, and his hand held outright controlling the sword. “I’m…Lance…I’m sorry…” the student muttered, along with a few unrecognizable terms. Sedar stared at his hands in horror before the red headed wizard called for him.
“We’ve got to go! Come on!”
Lance stepped forward into the snow. His eyes turned brown, as did his hair. Color returned to his skin, and the black veins disappeared. He looked no different than the other two. Just as young and weak. He collapsed onto the ground. His blood pooling in the snow.
Kane got up and looked at his body. “Soon to be the lord’s councilor,” he scoffed.
Entry 2
Title: Seeing Red
As the morning light slowly filtered into Marek's bedroom through the semi-closed blinds, he blinked profusely as its garishness accosted his eyes. He was in one of his moods again, and the last thing he wanted to do today was get out of bed. There was nothing in particular that he really wanted to do and he could do just as much nothing from his bed as he could out of it. Besides, going to school would only make him feel worse.
Marek had no idea where the notion that high school was supposed to be the golden years of your life came from, but he was willing to bet that whomever it was that started that rumour, was smoking something. It wasn't as if he hated his teachers or his classes. In fact, it was just the opposite. Knowledge was something that Marek loved to seek out and acquire. It was the other people that attended the school that he despised.
He didn't know what it was that caused others to single him out. He wasn't overweight, underweight, too tall or too small. Neither did he have any notable physical or mental disabilities. He wasn't gay, bi or trans. What he was, in his own humble opinion, was the epitome of normal. But, for whatever reason, there was just this general undercurrent within his student cohort that Marek was not someone worthy of your time unless you wanted to have a bit of "fun" with him. He was tired of being treated as if he was nothing more than a lowly peasant. The consolation prize was knowing that one day, each and every one of them would get theirs. And it would be all the better if he was the one to give it.
When Marek next opened his eyes, it was dark. Rolling out of bed and throwing on some clothes he had lying around, he decided he'd venture outside, where the night could best be appreciated.
The crisp, winter wind was cool against his face and if not for the traffic hurtling by, Marek might have been able to find some semblance of calm within it. Continuing onwards with his night-time stroll, he failed to notice a small group of his peers purposefully walking towards him. As he turned down a darkened side street, a flash of blonde hair with streaks of red was all he had time to register as they jumped him.
The pavement was particularly cold tonight as his face made contact with it. Not realising what was happening, Marek tried to get up, only to discover that something on his back was weighing him down. From the red streaked, blonde hair he knew that this could only be the work of Kayden.
No matter what he tried, Marek was stuck in this prone position. Without warning, there was a sudden pain in his side as Kayden's steel capped boot made contact with the side of his stomach, leaving him winded. Trying desperately to catch his breath, he was hit over and over until his body could no longer take it and he browned out to the sound of people with familiar sounding voices, having fun at his expense.
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The school bell's shrill ringing roused him from his sleep. He opened his eyes to find his English teacher glaring at him from the front of the classroom. The rest of the class had already cleared out and he was the only one left. His teacher opened his mouth. It looked as if he was speaking but Marek could hear no sound. He felt disoriented. He didn't even remember walking himself to school this morning and yet, here he was.
His teacher's lips continued to move in what seemed to be a pantomime of castigation. Through the open door, he could see the throng of students going about their normal, daily routines, though not a single sound could be heard. His ears began to ring. Sweat streaming through his pores, he felt nauseated and enraged at their placidity.
Was he really so different from everyone else? Did they really deserve to be considered better than he?
Without waiting for his symptoms to subside, Marek stood up and made for the exit. To his surprise, his teacher did nothing but continue moving his lips. As he reached for the door frame in order to support himself, he discovered that his hand was not as empty as he'd thought. Within it lay a gun, safety off, cocked and ready to fire.
As his eyes scanned the student body, he caught sight of a blonde haired student with red streaks. It was Kayden. With a shaking hand, he raised the gun, took aim and fired three rounds in quick succession. The recoil of the gun interfered with his aim, causing the bullets to ricochet off the drinking fountain, hitting several other students instead. Chaos permeated the walls of the school as the students began running for cover, slipping in the warm, red blood that now flooded the hall.
As luck would have it, Kayden was heading in Marek's direction. With only seconds to react, Marek took a can of deodorant out of his bag and sprayed it in the general direction of Kayden's eyes. As Kayden dropped to the ground, the pain that was registering on his face made Marek grin. Taking Kayden by his hair, Marek dragged him through the halls until they ended up inside their manual arts classroom.
Closing and locking the door behind them, he noticed at the back of the classroom, embedded in one of the desks, was a wooden handled axe. Leaving Kayden writhing in pain, he dislodged the axe from the desk. Taking his new weapon back to his victim, Marek placed his foot on the centre of his tormentor's chest. Tears of pent up rage streaming from his eyes, Marek swung the axe as hard as he could into Kayden's shoulder. The axe was met with resistance as it hit Kayden's clavicle. Letting out a terrified shriek, Kayden began to struggle, desperate to get away.
Marek straddled Kayden's chest and locked his legs around his prey's back to ensure that no escape was possible. With careful precision, Marek slowly shook the axe free from Kayden's flesh, taking pleasure in every shriek he was able to elicit. As Kayden wriggled violently in an effort to shake him off, Marek turned the axe so that the blade was in his hands and he struck Kayden's cheek with all his might. A loud crack could be heard as Kayden's jaw became dislocated. Tears, in amounts Marek had never even imagined were possible, were pouring from Kayden's. It was almost pathetic to see him in this state. Before Marek was finished with Kayden, he would make sure that each tear Kayden sheds, would be in homage to every victim that he had assaulted.
As Kayden howled in agony, Marek turned to face his victim's feet and with three rapid swings down the boy's leg, severed the femoral artery.
As arterial blood spurted forth from the wound, anointing Marek's face, its warmth was somehow comforting and the unyielding screams were like a symphony that had been composed just for him. As he sat on Kayden's chest, he could feel Kayden's breathing becoming laboured until finally, he had breathed his last.
Satisfied that justice had at last been executed, he placed the barrel of his gun into his own mouth, and pulled the trigger.
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Marek awoke with a start. The shrill beeping from the heart monitor was the first thing that he noticed when he came to; followed very quickly by a sharp pain in his head, chest and stomach. The bright florescent lighting did nothing to improve his mood and only reminded him of the events of yesterday morning.
From the smell of disinfectant, Marek surmised that he was most likely in a hospital. He could overhear the nurses gossiping about how one of his attackers had called an ambulance and then left him for dead, for when EMTs had arrived on the scene, along with the police, they'd already fled.
Marek was a little surprised that one of them had cared enough to call for help though he was not surprised to discover that their concern did not extend itself to seeing whether or not he help actually ended up arriving. He was also slightly disheartened to discover that everything that had just happened, only happened in his head.
Perhaps, if Marek could learn anything from this experience, it was that Kayden deserves to be put in his place. One of these days he'll be sorry and when that day arrives, Marek could only hope that he was there to see it.
Entry 3
Legend of Majora: The Timeline Split
There is a legend of a demon who once controlled the moon. Possessing the lonely and weak-minded child of the Skull, he battled against the Hero of Time in an effort to destroy the land of Termina. Those efforts would be shot down however, as the hero defeated him. Or so it would seem. For although the hero would go on to destroy the demon with a godly form, the actions he took to reach that point would put a ripple in the fabric of time.
The Fallen Hero Timeline
Inside a large castle, a man walked the halls, up a spiral staircase. He heard the sounds of his master playing the organ more and more as he got closer. Inside the room, was the figure of a tall green skinned man with orange hair clad in dark clothing. He sat in his chair in front of his piano as his servants lined the stained glass walls. Playing his last chord he asked, “Was that not the most beautiful tune you’ve ever heard?”
“Yes, King Ganondorf,” his servants spoke in unison.
“Truly, a marvelous spectacle I do say. Such as the remnants of those that I defeated,” he extended his arm toward a pair of artifacts, one after the other, “The crown which belonged to that pesky princess, Zelda, and the sword carried by the foolish boy who tried to destroy my plans.”
With those words, the man from the halls entered the room and extended his hand at someone behind him, asking him to wait there. He entered the main room and knelt down, “Master Ganondorf-“
“Address me by my proper title.”
“Sorry, King Ganondorf.”
“That’s better. Now what is so important that you must disturb my peace?”
“There is a young child here, he says he needs to speak with you.”
“What have I said about inviting people into our sanctuary?”
“But sire, I tried to tell him. He insisted he wouldn’t leave until he got a chance to talk to you.”
“Enough of this treason. Send him away. As the ruler of this land, I can choose who and who is not allowed here. And I for sure am not going to allow an audience with a child.”
As he spoke those words, a young kid walked through the door. But he was not like most children. He dressed in a most unusual green and brown attire, which looked as though it was made out of straw. But the most alarming feature was the mask he wore on his face, “My Ganondorf, you dare shoo away someone who holds your fate in his hands?”
“You dare walk into my castle and speak such words to me? Mind your manners. I am the ruler of this world. Who do you think you are?”
“I am the one who decides the next phase of your life. I control the things that happen in this world, just as you control the things in mine. However, as I am vastly more powerful than you, my influence stretches much further than yours, and therefore I can succeed in instances where you fail.”
“If you don’t need me, then why do you appear now?”
“We have a common enemy, an enemy who can throw off both of our rules. A boy known as Link.”
“Hah! I have already dealt with him.”
“You have not. For his soul will continue to come back countless times. And eventually, you will fail. However, I am here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“What could you possibly do for me?”
“Make a deal with me. Give me the ocarina that plays with time, and I’ll give you the key to continue being the ruler of Hyrule.”
“Guards, get this insolent fool out of my presence.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Majora snickered. The guards ran at him, but were caught by tentacles that came out of the mask. They grabbed the guards and smacked them on the ground, knocking them out one by one. Ganondorf lifted up his arm and threw an orb of light at the demon. Majora teleported behind him, kicking him in the back. “I warned you what would happen, but you weren’t wise enough to accept. One day, a hero will return to this land, and you will fall again. But for now, I’ll take what I came here for.”
Majora grabbed the ocarina and jumped out the stained glass. Ganondorf threw another orb at him, but Majora knocked it back with his arm. The orb hit Ganondorf and Ganondorf’s appearance began to change. “What have you done to me?” he yelled.
“This is what happens when you fail to cooperate with a real demon,” Majora laughed. He played the ocarina and disappeared.
The Unified Timeline
Before the events of Ocarina of Time
Before the events of Ocarina of Time
Zelda slept in her bed, as Majora sat above her on a shelf. He looked down at her with a grin and extended his arm. Zelda began tossing and turning, as in her dream she saw the image of a green skinned man riding a horse in fire. She woke up from the nightmare and looked up. As she was about to scream, Majora covered her mouth. “Shh, I know the nightmare that haunts you.”
“Who are you?”
“I am a Skull Kid. A kokiri who got lost in the forest. And I have come here to warn you of an approaching danger.”
“How do you know about my nightmares?”
“I am no normal child. I can see into your visions. The green man is real, and soon a boy with a fairy will arrive in this castle. Lead his way on the journey to defeat the traitor who is aiming for your father’s head.”
Zelda went to ask him another question, but he disappeared from sight.
Termina Heaven
“You’re here at last, hero,” a man said among a throne of black clouds.
Lightning striking below them, a man with a backpack walked up and knelt down, his masks seeming to look at everyone around him. “I have helped another fix the mistake that I made. I am ready to rest Lord.”
As he said that though, the clouds went white and a mask on his backpack disappeared. “What happened to the mask?”
The salesman looked back and realized that the mask of Majora had disappeared. He panicked. “I don’t know. Where could it have gone?”
Another man walked into the scene and looked at the man with the masks. “Your time is not over. You have one more task to complete. Two masks of the same cannot exist at the same time in the same world.”
“Then Majora, he’s-“
“Yes, it would appear that he found a way to return to Termina.”
“But Link is already gone. And we can’t bring him back. The way to Hyrule is shut.”
“Then it is time for you to fulfill your destiny, Hero of Souls.”
“I don’t have power anymore. You know that.”
“Hero, return to Termina. I will grant you the power you need to defeat Majora, once and for all.”
The Happy Mask Salesman, also known as the Hero of Souls, disappeared from Heaven and returned to Termina.
Termina
Moments later, he stood at the door to Clock Town as Majora walked through the field and looked up at him. “So, it’s you, the one who ruined my life. You’ve returned again. How many times do I have to send you away? You’re weak, you can’t challenge me anymore.”
“How did you return? I thought Link defeated you.”
“He did, in this time. But, I survived in others and destroyed Termina. But, I grew bored of the world I created. It was all destruction, and there was no one to rule. I came here to right the mistake I made. I came to rule Termina, instead of destroying it.”
“I blame only myself for who you’ve become Majora. If only I could rewind time and fix this,” the hero sighed. “But regardless of whose fault it is, I cannot allow you to do simply as you please. Behold the power of my masks.”
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And so the legend goes, that the Hero of Souls and the Demon Majora battled in the fields of Termina. No one knows who the victor was, but the actions of Majora would change the fate of Termina, and cause the timeline of Hyrule to split into three.
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