RPGC #22: Ode to Fury - Prompt and Entries

[Frizan]

Ode to Fury

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Winter's grasp ebbs and the green, though still struggling, returns to us. The sun's radiance spills over the world, dispelling the frost once again. We have seen fit to greet the warmth that bright yellow ball with the warmth of our hearts as people all over come together to share their love for each other.

But for all the warmth in the world, there is always the trace of cold hiding away in the darkest corners of the heart. Rage, hate, prejudice, all things we desperately try to overcome. Unfortunately, it is difficult to shake their grip, and some have a harder time of it than others. Despite their best intentions, they lose control and often ultimately end up hurting and destroying what they hold dear. These are the people that we shall focus on today.

Let their stories serve as cautionary tales against capitulating to the cold recesses of the heart.

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Contest Rules

1. The focus of the story must be on what happens when one gives in to the negative emotions listed above(rage, hate, prejudice, etc.). The character from whose eyes we see the story unfold from need not be the carrier of those negative aspects; you are more than free to relate the aftereffects from an outsider's perspective.

2. Your story can focus on whole entities rather than singular people overcome with these negative aspects(ex. two warring nations)

3. You must show how letting these negative aspects overcome them affects your character/s personally; even if it is not directed at those around them, actions can and usually do have wide reaching side effects that go beyond their intended target.

4. There are no winners in hate and war. These negative aspects are often catalysts for tragedy, and it will be no different here. The consequences for the actions of your character/s should be devastating and permanent. Really show why one must control themselves in the face of these aspects, lest their stories echo the ones told here.

Grounds for disqualification

1. Plagiarism.

2. Your entry having no clear connection to the prompt.

3. Gratuitous violence or gore.

4. We probably won't be experiencing any of this but I gotta cover all bases. No explicit sex scenes. Fade to black is fine.

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The deadline for RPGC #22 shall be Saturday, March 9th. Please post all entries in this thread, and direct all questions and feedback to my PM box or the associated Discussion thread, and I will gladly answer them.

Please hold off all votes and critiques until the proper thread has been erected for this prompt.

[Gwynbleidd]

Very Unfinished Entry

Lost Journal

It has been common knowledge recorded for thousands of years on this afflicted plain that magic is bound by blood, and only blood. Blood magic... it is an ugly thing. It is a hateful thing. One must carve their own flesh with the edge of a knife to conjure spells. Or, to summon even greater powers, death is required. My entire life has been forged by this magic’s workings and its cruel philosophies. Spared, you might call me. Spared by my gift for this magic, allowing me to survive in a world ruled by violence and darkness.

But, I wonder. Have I been spared death by becoming it?

Even now, I muse about these thoughts. Perhaps that is because I’ve nearly reached the end. The war against the Great Dark has ended, and while the shadow fades I stand upon a mountain of corpses. My name is chanted as a hero, yet still I care more about the corners of this world where I am reviled. Their words are not lies. I am a murderer, a great and terrible destroyer.

It was I who brought fire down from the sky, and leveled the grand city of Kelvara. A whole council of mages could not withstand my might, and I have not known why. Is it my skill? Or is it my blood? The people of this world can feel the sharp cold in winter, or the tender warmth of summer. I cannot.

Why?

Of the many legendary mages that have lived and died, I was the one who discovered that the soul too crafts magic, rather than blood.

Why?

Perhaps now, as this strange portal I have opened beckons to me, I will finally have an answer.

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Seaman’s Diary

The smell in the air is bad. That’s what I say. I’ve told the Captain we shouldn’t set sail but he won’t listen to me, even if I know a thing or two about these things. Bad tidings. Omens. I know ‘em. Know ‘em well.

There’s a storm out there on those waters. A bad one. It ain’t worth two lumps of a sheep’s shit to journey out to the new continent. What good is any of that treasure if we’re all dead at the bottom of the sea? We’ll die, I’m thinkin’. Maybe I’m a mad man for not ditching this quest but maybe that’s also my own curse. I’m a man of habit. I just do things that other people want to do, or what they tell me to do.

At least there’s a pretty woman on board to look at. That don’t hurt morale none. She looks smart. It’s in the eyes I think. Strange eyes. White, but not quite white. They almost shimmer, kinda’ silver. Maybe like the moon.

Yeah, that’s it. Eyes like the moon.

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Captain's Log

The woman carries her weight. I didn't want to bring her along, mostly because she's pretty. It's a bad mix to have a bunch of lonely sailors and only one woman on board. But, she paid. A hefty sum. I have no idea where she got it from, but her tone warrants very little in the way of questions. No one bothers her, which is in itself unusual. I'd've expected to hear complaints from her about being harassed or something in the way of my men being rowdy. They do drink a lot. Some are good drunks. Most are bad.

There was the one time. One of my men went to her room, all strung up on potential and possibilities. Drinking gives courage to the fools who need it the least. He came out different. Quiet. Something strange in his look. Whatever it is, he's deathly afraid of the girl. Doesn't speak to her, doesn't speak of her. He doesn't even go near her anymore.

I'm starting to wonder if I should have refused her gold, as sweet the sum it was. Some things have no price.

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Lost Journal

I no longer stand in the realm of man. This place is markedly different not merely by an immediate glance, but by the aura that runs along the seams of this world. It is in the air. In the ground. In the water...

Upon a tall hill, I watch. For leagues beyond me, there is a long stretch of unmarred land. The grass is green, almost golden under the light of three suns. To the east, and to the west as I presume the directions of this foreign place, there are seas of violet flowers clustered together. They bend and dance to the wind's tune. This musical feeling continues, and it is then I note the coastline. The sand is not like the kind I have known. It is silver, and glittering. Waves of deep green melodically kiss the silver shore, the violet flowers dance, and the wind sings.

It is only now that I notice, surprised, that I can feel the warmth of the suns on my skin. It is now too, that I notice a host of riders on the plain coming in my direction. Their armor and helms are dark, like the night. It is wise for me to assess their auras, to decide whether they mean harm to me or not.

They do not, but nor do they like me.

The riders surround me. One of them, I presume their highest rank, points his spear at me. He demands my name, and so I tell him. He demands I remove my hood, and so I do. Upon seeing my face, there is a scattering of unease amongst the riders. One of them jumped off his horse, but before he could make a further move he was halted. I suspect he was intending to bow before me. It was the reverence in his eyes that gave it away.

These riders do not strike me down here. Instead, as their leader states, I am to be arrested.

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Seaman’s Diary

I ain't ever been afraid of a woman 'til now.

Unfinished Intentions

I wish I had the time to complete it, but unfortunately time is not very agreeable. This time, anyway. What was meant to continue from this was a continued string of documents from the characters above. They're from different strands of time. The Lost Journal is from the sorcerer's perspective, who is mentioned in both the diary and the log. It occurred thousands of years prior, in a world where darkness had long reigned but finally waned.

In her experimentations of new magic, she opened a doorway to a distant land that was in fact her ancestral home. There, she was going to discover that she was of the High Royal family, but was cast out due to a prophecy. In fact, they planned to have her killed as an infant. But, out of the good of their heart, one individual of that strange land brought her through a similar portal and gave her to a family in that other world.

She lived a life of war, pain, and sorrow. Discovering that it was her own family that had cursed her to her existence of tragedy, and that they were arresting her and continuing out her execution out of fear of the prophecy... it had unintended consequences.

Those loyal to her were to break her free, and in turn she would wage a war that tore her homeland asunder. And, she would leave a foul curse upon it that would turn the beautiful and mystical lands to a place of cold and harsh winter. That was her act of bitter hatred.

The logs with the sailors were intended to show her using a portal for them to escape the severity of their storm, and witness that even thousands of years later, her hatred still holds sway over the land. Dead, wintery wastes filled with bitter and demoralized peoples.

I wish I could have finished, but here we are.

Not finished at all. Not even close. But, this contest should have something!