Short Story Competition: Day Off [VOTING]

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Voting: Short Story Competition - Day Off

Submission period is over. Take your time, grab a cup of coffee or any other beverage you so desire, possibly some popcorn, sit down, relax, and read the many Short Stories that we received. Remember to vote fairly! We know there are lots of stories, but try to read most, if not all of them. Although we won't stop you if you read that story that makes you go "It's this!" and vote, the poll will be running for a while so take your time and read the stories when you can. Remember, you're not voting on what looks fancier because of formatting or what looks prettier because of card images (So much that I removed them), but rather on the Story that you like the most (whether be it because it made you laugh or because it's a baffling piece of literary art that makes you envious of the incredible writing skills of the author is up to you.)

Anything that wasn't strictly written was removed. This includes decks or links that were part of your story, and also card images. If you find this troubling, please PM me or post in the thread; if it really appears to be so troubling, I'll return it back to normal.

Well then, let's tackle the submissions! Prepare your reading glasses, and...

Submissions

Spoiler for Abomination:

This isn't a story about princes and princesses, neither it is about a happy ending; this story is about the reality of a so called creature which was created by a mistake. The life of a little boy, a "creature" that is full of strong emotions which noone can think of. His true name was James-that was the name that his parents were to give him- until the day that he actually was born. In the sight of his weird-shaped body his parents gave him straight away for adoption. In his new house as he grew up, James was mocked by the other children and especially their "rightful" leader, Tom,  due to his looks thus giving him a new nickname "The abomination". He had no friends, noone there to watch his back, noone to care for him. James was watching other kids being adopted by new families, and blaming his self for not being adopted, praying everyday to the great RNG, he wished for a new family to watch out for him, to be loved at last. One day, a fine gentleman walked in the house looking for a kid, saying that he wanted to adopt one to his beloved, large family; his name was Zanzarino. That man, didnt chase the beauty or the talent but he craved an individual with pure intentions, good heart and will. So, he declared a task in which the winner would be the new member of his family. The task was simple,
-"I want you to find the great collection of shards" Zanzarino said.
Now according to the legend, Shards would be revealed to the man with the most pure heart.
All kids in the house directly were assigned with this great task, and James was one of them, as was Tom. The task began right away, as children run through different directions searching for the great collection of shards. After days, of search noone had a clew were the shards were, so didnt James. Exhausted, he sat under a tree to rest so he could continue his adventure. Not more than five minutes passed and he heard a strange sound. It was the Mighty Purple Nymph that had revealed herself to James. All of a sudden, James started to run away, then he stopped; turned back to see if she was real: -close your eyes- she said,
-"close your eyes and you will see that Im real". James was shocked, but took a moment and finally closed his eyes
-"yes I can see, now I can actually see", he said and reached to his pocket to find that he had the 12 shards.
-"Those are the shards that you look for, and with these you will finally have the family that you so want", Purple Nymph said,
-"Yes, that is my desire thank you so much"
-"This is your destiny, James, you will be strong, you will from now on answer to the name of Abomination, your true identity will be forever hidden"
-"But, but why miss? why? I have questions, what's your name? Why do you help me? Miss? Miss?
james was left with unsolved questions and the so wanted 12 shard collection to his posession. Sceptical he started to get back, but suddenly, Tom and his gang showed up.
-"Well, well, well, what do we have hear? Its the abomination, and look! his has the shards!" , Tom said.
-"Erhm, I, I, I.... ", James cried.
-"Hand out the collection and we will spare you.", Tom said.
A strange sound sounded again, and a pack of creatures showed up.
-"Leave him alone, now", they said, and Tom and his pals started to run immediately.
-"Thank you so much, but who are you?" James asked as they started to walk back to the house.
*music started to play*
-"Oh WE HAVE A WINNER!", Zanzarino said. "And I suspect you met some of my family members, let my introduce you: Graviton guard, Otyugh, Lycanthrope and on the back is Purple dragon."
-"Hello all, and thank you so much for everything." James shouted.
-"And may I ask what is the name of our winner"?, Zanzarino said.
A little pause followed,
-"Ehmm, my name is Abomination,sir."
-"Then, Abomination, welcome to our beloved family of Elements!"
 Then a feist, followed in the new house of James, as a welcome to their new member.
-"Sir.."
-"You can call me Zanzarino"
-"S.. ehm Zanzarino, I saw a purple lady, back in the forest, a beautiful lady, a-and she talked to me, and I wonder if you know who she is."
-"Oh! Abomination, I think you talk about Purple Nymph! You're so lucky to meet her! She's one of the great 12 nymphs. The 12 creators of our family!", Zanzarino said.
-"Oh...".
 James never revealed his true identity and now lives happily with his new family but never forgotten his life-changing acquitance with the almighty Purple Nymph.

Spoiler for Relic:

Just Outside the Field

          A useless block of stone stands at the edge of a forest that opens to a field. Butterflies land on it, resting for a tiresome journey ahead, while women of the earth dance around this upright remnant of beauty. No wind can topple it, no man can move it, no power can destroy it, for it will always remain overlooking a field.

          The Relic sees no line between a day of work and a day of rest. It stands, everyday, no more erect than the day before; no less erect than the day after. A second and a month are equally endured, unnoticed by the relics. Time passes for everything but the relics, who see time as an infinite mockery of their inabilities. Relics exist for everyone else, constantly acting as reminders of how beauty can change. How designers can wipe away a beautiful face with the stroke of a pen, much like artists covering their canvas creations with a solid sheet of fire.

          Relics see only white, the purest white of a solar eclipse, contrasting black and white only to intensify and burn the retina. Relics hear nothing. No sound, no vibration can communicate anything to them, and they don’t really mind. A relic would rather not hear action or conflict, for it couldn’t do anything even if it wanted. Conversely, relics say nothing. They don’t fear being ignored, nor do they concern themselves with what others would think, but time has stolen their expression. Once they became relics, their time for freedom and individuality was over. Each relic is exactly the same, a repulsively and perfectly-ordered pattern of nostalgic figures.

          Lacking essentially all senses, relics can process thought. Every once and a while they get the feeling that someone is using them. Whether or not this is even possible, the relics don’t know, but they find enjoyment regardless. They know that they are a drain of resources, an eternally downhill battle, and a permanent vice squeezing the hearts of elementals. This does not sadden the relics, but forces them to keep existing, as if they actually had a choice. Oddly, relics are also aware of their popularity among their world. Many creatures and people don’t understand relics, and this is surprising to the relics themselves, because there is nothing to understand. They are simply broken pieces of a once golden visage, and now they exist to simply be. For some unfathomable reason though, they are always under close inspection. For a moment, a relic is a prized-possession and the next it is the piece of a puzzle that never fits. Daily, the relic struggles for a sense of place, not because it actually cares where it belongs, but because it has nothing else to struggle over.
   
          A normal day isn’t recognized by the relics. It has no routine, no scheduled appointments, and no planned reactions to stimuli. They are rooted to the earth, masterfully placed just outside of anything with meaning. Any given day a relic is standing; possibly enduring a frostbitten winter or bathing in the sun or shielding nymphs from the rain. Today, or maybe it was yesterday, will be tomorrow’s forgotten memory of the day before that, in an endless stream of vague happenings just outside the field.

Spoiler for The Crusader:

The Lone Warrior

The man looked down at the village from a nearby hill. It was already Nightfall, but he could see he was not too late. They had not yet been attacked. He knew he didn’t have much time, but he was still calm and methodic. Put on the Armor. Take the Weapons. Plan his strategy.

The Lone Warrior some called him. Or the Wielder of Justice. Or even The Savior of Light. But all that was just titles he didn’t think he deserved. No, in his own mind, he was simply the Crusader.He didn’t look for praise or reward. All he wanted was to help the ones in need.

Once he was all done, he could hear sounds from below. A group of creatures had left the forest and headed for the village. He ran down the hill, trying to put himself between the creatures and the village. He could hear and see that there was already panic in the village when he got closer. But when he reached the road which the creatures were traveling on and turned towards them, it all became Silence. Both the villagers and the creatures just stopped in their tracks, looking at this figure of Light.

“I am the Crusader and this village now lies under my protection. You are free to leave this place at once, but be aware I will give you no second chances.”

He could hear the whispers behind him: “It’s him!” “Is he going to save us?”. He smiled under his helmet, knowing he had restored their Hope. In front of him he could only hear Silence until one of the creatures, a large Vampire, spoke: 

“We aren’t afraid of you, Lone Warrior. This village is ours and you cannot stop us!”

The other creatures roared as if agreeing, and they started heading towards him. The Crusader was not afraid however. His grip on his hammer, the Titan, was steady. He had never fled a battle before, and he wasn’t going to start now.
The Devourers reached him first, jumping at him, trying to drain his energy. But they never reached him, his Titan crushed them all, as if Unstoppable. Next came the Parasites, the Minor Vampires, and the Gargoyles. The Dark horde seemed endless. Luckily, the Crusader had weapons for every occasion. The Lobotomizer made sure the Parasites could not poison him. The Arsenic stopped their fastest creature in their tracks before they could reach the village. The Owl’s Eye was for those thinking they could fly past him. They were many, many more than the Crusader had thought. At last when the Crusader almost collapsed of fatigue, there were no monsters left. Except one. The large Vampire who had originally spoken still stood at the same spot as if nothing had happened.

“And now, I will take your life, Warrior, as you have taken ours.”

The Crusader’s weapon was on the ground around him, and he was too tired to wield any one of them now. But there was one weapon left. One he had stolen from a Dark Nymph long ago. How fitting, he thought. And as the Vampire got close, believing the Crusader to be helpless, he drew the Vampire Dagger and stabbed the Vampire in his heart. The Vampire screamed in pain and surprise, and the Crusader could feel his strength returning thanks to the Dagger.

And as the last creature of Darkness fell, the villagers rushed forward to thank the man who had saved them all. A Hero, they called him. Their Protector. Or even the Light Bearer. But in his own mind, he was none of that. He was simply the Crusader.

Spoiler for Steam Machine:

I awake to the familiar feeling of steam powering through my body. I am S.T.E.A.M. Machine code 7h2: Advanced Battle Combatant. I am designed to locate and neutralized enemy threat in a CCQ situation. But beyond that, I know nothing of who I am or even what I am.

A Pegasus charges towards me. I dodge to the left and strike down on the creature’s hind. It topples and cries out in pain but a few yards from me. With one swift action, the cries are silenced.

“Attack!” a voice commands. I charge forwards to the commanding figure of the opposition, gaining power and momentum as I run. I land hit after hit on my target, decimating his shield into nothing but worthless shards. Soon, his cries also cease.

And then the battle is over. I find myself surrounded by corpses, both ally and foe. No-one stirs amongst the bloodied battlefield. “What now?” I think, “I am still powered. What are my orders? What am I to do?” Looking about, an outcrop of forest surrounds most of the grasslands. The sun shines brightly as the day is still in its prime. “If my orders are complete, perhaps I am free.” I hesitate before sprinting towards the wall of trees, the earth shaking with every heavy stride I take.

Far into the forest, I come upon a gentle brook flowing. I decide to stop, as I feel less energized after running through the woods. I look into the water and see a heavy metal shell looking back. Two small sunken eyes shine out with a brilliant blue light. I am shocked by my vast contrast to the nature that surrounds me. It strikes me that I never knew what I looked like. I realized I still know very little about myself; I remember nothing before waking in the field except my name, code and purpose. I suppose I will now have to find my own purpose.

Just then I hear a rustling noise behind me. Instinctively, I whirl around, ready to fight of the attacker. Standing before me is another Pegasus, its head lowered, ready to charge. I prepare to hold my ground from the beast. “I will slay it like its kin on the battlefield. Just wait for it to charge.”

But it does not charge. Its lowered head grazes the fresh grass in the clearing. It looks at me, swallows then continues eating, regardless of my presence. I lower my guard and examine the beast; such a beautiful creature. Its white body glistens and shines in the afternoon sun. Its mane flows across its body like a golden river. I think back to the one at the battle; the one that had seemed so menacing. But now it seems impossible to imagine myself causing such a magnificent creature such harm.

From the shrubbery, I see some kind of projectile hurtling towards me. I shield my inner mechanics and brace for impact. I close my eyes.
I hear the familiar cry of a Pegasus. I look to see a 6ft spear protruding from its side. “Nearly got ‘er, throw another one!”, I hear over the agonising shrieks of pain. Rage boils in my pipes as I scour the area for the attackers.

When the huntsman rose to aim, he never stood a chance.

I charged towards him and swung my arm into his torso. The sound of shattering bone accompanied him as his body was projected aside. Three more men stood in awe as their companion came to rest at the base of a tree. I dashed for the first and grab him before he has a chance to draw a weapon. I lift him off his feet before slamming him into the ground and stomping on him for good measure. An arrow hits my metal shell as a turn to see the second hunter reload his cross-bow. He shoots again before I reach him, and then rolls beneath my swipe. He launches another arrow which deflects of my solid frame and falls to the undergrowth. I swing my arm again and this time hit the target as he falls to the ground. He tries to stand up again but I slam my fist down onto him. The third man has already started to flee. I pick up an abandoned spear and take aim. I hurl the spear forward, but to my surprise it falls short. My rage and strength has left me.

I return to the Pegasus, but am too late. It is dead. I am overcome with despair and failure.” I let this creature die. I could have done something instead of exacting vengeance.” With nothing else to do, I run.

My body cannot carry me forward as fast as I wish. I want to put the past behind me, but I cannot escape it. Fleeing will not make this go away, I need to face this.

“I caused the death of two Pegasi. Their blood is on my hands.”

I feel myself slowing, losing momentum. “But I can change. I must change, for the sake of myself I must.” My legs give way beneath me and I slam hard into the ground, but the pain is not important. I try to rise but fail. I am too weak. “I am not a killer. I don’t have to be.” I try to support myself but movement fails me. I can feel my components seizing up. “I am different.” The world grows dark. “I … am … differ-.”

I awake to the familiar feeling of steam powering through my body. I am S.T.E.A.M. Machine code 7h2: Advanced Battle Combatant. I am designed to locate and neutralized enemy threat in a CCQ situation. But beyond that, I know nothing of who I am or even what I am...

Spoiler for Nymph Queen:

Eien no Zero

It stood alone.

For as long as it could remember, it had been standing alone. There were stories of times long past, when there were far more of its kind. Yes, even more than the great and numerous towers of fire. But everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.

Through forbidden rituals, the worshippers of fire had sacrificed themselves to produce great amounts of fire quanta, enough to explode 59 towers. And now, where a great forest of towers once stood, only it remained. It had been but a young immature pillar when the attack happened, and could hardly remember anything. The one thing that remained forever burned - yes, burned - in its mind, unable to be forgotten, was the last act of cruelty of the fire nation. Unable to muster enough quanta to completely destroy the legendary 60 tower deck, they planted a devourer on that last, helpless pillar.

It stood alone. Well, not quite, since there was a now healthy adult pest clinging on its side. Even so, it stood alone, cursed to never be able to revive its great nation. To stand there for all eternity, an endless cycle of zero quanta production. Yet, this day was different. How many days had gone by, how many days of despair and weariness and boredom and self-loathing? This day, something inside the water tower broke.

It cried. Towers are not known for their outward of expression of emotion; indeed, towers have never been known to express any emotion. Even so, it cried.

And a miracle happened.

The newborn Nymph Queen opened her eyes for the first time, and swore. On this day, I gained legs! I gained freedom! I gained the beginnings of our revival, and our revenge on the Fire Nation!

Spoiler for Forest Scorpion:

The young Puffer Fish swam frantically to the surface of the ocean, where beach dwellers could deliver her news to the Scorpion King. The large storage of Arsenic hidden deep within the depths, protected by swarms of Physalia, had disappeared overnight. Surely the Scorpion King, lord of all poison in the Elemental realm, would be alarmed. As the water level subsided, the Puffer Fish was relieved to see a group of Pegasi stopping for a drink. "Please! You must help me! Take this message to the Scorpion King in the Life Realm!" the Puffer Fish gasped. After she explained the grave situation, the Pegasi agreed and promptly set course for their next destination.

The Forest Scorpion named Will entered the grand burrow of the Scorpion King, followed by his friends, Blondie the Deathstalker and Manny the Dune Scorpion. Together, they formed S.T.I.N.G., the most elite crime solving agency in the Elemental realm (S.T.I.N.G. stands for Scorpions Tirelessly Investigating Nefarious Guys). "Hello, STING. I have gathered you here today to investigate the disappearance of the Water Realm's Arsenic bank." the king told them. The scorpions were speechless. "What? How is that possible? And who would steal an entire bank of Arsenic?" Blondie asked. The Scorpion King frowned. "I am not sure. But I fear there are those who would use the Arsenic for their own selfish agenda - one that threatens the peace of this land. For war is coming to the Elemental Realm, the trees are restless, I can feel i-" the King was then interrupted by Manny. "This ain't Lord of the Rings bro. We'll make sure no war is started."

The Scorpion King glared at the imbecile arachnid present in his chambers. "Just find the thieves and return the Arsenic if possible. You shall be rewarded." And thus, the three scorpions headed towards the Water Realm to gather clues. "Damn, they forgot us again." said Skarner. "Tell me about it, I'm in the NU tier." Drapion replied.

S.T.I.N.G. met with two Physalia guards that had witnessed the Arsenic theft. "So, what did you see during that night?" Will inquired. One of the guards spoke up. "It was strange. There was no foreign Elementals, but I felt a large dark presence enter the vicinity. We all did. We were unsure of its nature, but it floated through the water.  When it was gone, so was the Arsenic."
"Sounds like those Darkness Elementals are up to no good. They must have found a way to Steal it..." Manny murmured. "Do not be so hasty. More investigation is needed." Blondie said. "Still, that's a promising start. Let's go." Will ordered.

The trio spent all day traveling towards the Darkness Realm, and decided to set up camp for the night. Blondie agreed to take first watch as the other two got some sleep. Will was dreaming of dying and being reborn into a Phoenix when we was awakened by rustling sounds. "Tie them up." he heard a voice whisper. Will became conscious of eight-legged creatures surrounding him. "What is the meaning of this!" Manny yelled. "Sorry mate, but we can't have you ruining our operation." hissed a menacing voice. "Aye, we should cook them like shrimp on the barbie!" another said. Will opened his eyes to witness a small group of Vampires and Flesh Spiders wrapping Manny in webs. That wasn't good. And they were Australian, to boot! "What is the meaning of this!" Manny screamed before he was fully captured in the web.

"Heh, we needed the Arsenic for a secret weapon prototype we are developing back in my realm." Wait, that voice was familiar. It was Blondie, who had betrayed them! "The Eclipse unites us." he smiled as he glanced into the night sky, the familiar light of the moon allowing for sight in the darkness. "Together, we will rise. All the other realms will not be prepared for our combined might." The Scorpion King was right. The information shocked Will, but he had to act now. He had to escape and report the situation as soon as possible.

"Hey, that one is awake!" a vampire turned to face him. Will quickly got up and began scurrying away. "Don't let him get away!" Blondie yelled. Will heard the movement of the creatures behind him as they hurried to catch up. He knew they would not catch him, as he had was the MVP of his high school Track and Cross Country teams. However, with the betrayal of one of his former teammates and the capture of his other teammate, we would have to work on his own. The fate of the Elemental Realm was in his hands. Er, pincers.

Spoiler for Anubis:

Curator of the Sands


Though now simultaneously frightening and majestic, the towering avatar of Anubis, the Death God, was once a simple man of common stature.

He was a scribe of stone tablets, and much content in his work solely to feed his family. A simple, honest man with no regard as to how his life ticked away each day. Each day, closer to Death. There is beauty to be found in mortality, but to begin the comparison you need to first know of immortality. To have tasted its metallic, blood-like and thick Quintessence.

So it was one tragic and mortal day that an army came to the sands of his people. He could not recognize their armor and they bore no banners. They did what soldiers do. Murder. Raze. Plunder. He dies swiftly. Fortunate. Fortunate, too, that he dies defending his family and does not see them dying swiftly. The soldiers take no pleasure in it. They are weary with war and have lost sight of the difference they make when it comes to Life and Death.

That was the end. So are all mortal children taught, and so all mortal children see. He had seen camels die. He had even seen a few people die. They do not rise again. Death is the end. So are all mortal children taught.

But not all existence is all seen. In the moment of Death, you will most likely not be as fortunate as this man. He is able to see the souls of his family evaporate from their dead bodies as he, too, rises towards the aether. They smile at him before parting ways, each of them, including him, whisked away on immaterial streams in dead space where no life can be.

He does not feel anxious over losing sight of them. He does not know why. Then, a primal and utterly unbearable pain crashes through his conscience form as he is ripped from the stream by Death's hand.

Death does not speak. He simply knows. In just one moment, he knows history. Not just one history. He knows all of history. He understands he has been chosen to represent Death in the mortal world. He dons the head of a jackal. He is sent to the very sands he once lived on. He gains entrance to the great Pyramid. No one else knows how to enter. Inside he waits. Guards the Shards, the Relics, the Golden Hourglasses. The treasured Eternity. He does not feel the passing of Time any more than its absence of effect on his new flesh. Guards the lifeless relics.

Centuries pass. He feels something is missing. Something about the world and himself feels incomplete. There is something he has, but cannot use. He was given stewardship by Death, so he must set out to right what is wrong. He wanders an endless desert, for all is what we make of it. He walks for millions of miles. After all, he feels no fatigue. He crosses from continents now named in the passing of humanity's time. Africa. Europe. Asia. Yet it is all a desert to him.

Then he sees it. He has returned to his Egypt when he sees it. A massive hill-cavern of Turquoise crystal. Climbing to the entrance is difficult and dangerous. The rocks are impossibly jagged and slippery; no mortal strength would be sufficient. He sinks his fingers into. Splinters fly.
Inside he finds a woman weeping. She is, truly, endlessly beautiful. Her tears shine turquoise. Flowing to the ground, they crystallize.

She looks up at him. She does not recoil. They stare into each other's eyes. It's his wife.

It takes many hundred years for an immortal existence to feel the passing of time. Now he feels it. He has been immensely lonely. That is why he toiled so to come here. That is why he risked his life climbing the crystal. But that is not all of why he first set out. She takes his hand. It is much harder on the way down. He struggles with keeping a grip. Tries to dig his fingers in deeper. He slips despite all his efforts. She cries out, reaches for him. He hits a protruding rock.

He opens his eyes. He is not dead. She finishes climbing down to him. He floats off the lethal spike, stares at her. Aetherial energies flow from her arms, enveloping him. They walk to the Pyramid. Her energies take the form of different relics; otherworldly. Shards of Wisdom and structures too. She forges a blade, sharpened in the streams of stars. She will use it to defend her loved ones from now on. She names it Electrocutor. A blade with a name is a treasure.

Beside the Pyramid, a Tower of Aether grows. He feels its power, her power, infuse his own untapped abilities. This is what he had, but could not use. The gift of granting Immortality. They open the entrance to the Pyramid and keep it open. Mortals come and worship them, worship the relics. She is Ma'at. Truth, balance, order, law, morality, and justice. She regulates the Stars, seasons and the actions of both mortals and deities. He is Anapa. He consults her when weighing the hearts of mortals to determine the weight of truth. Dictating the fate of Souls, he is a Lord of the Underworld, serving only Osiris.

Extremely few, chosen few by Death, are given the gift, or burden, or responsibility, of Immortality.
And by them both, mortal children are taught to stand up for their family. For their village. For mortal life. And that Death... is not the end.

Spoiler for Pest:

Pest
Pests live in deep caves, in absolute darkness. There is no light that will ever reach them.
Pests live in groups. If you find one pest, you are likely to find over nine thousand more nearby.
If you go in a cave trying to find pests, you cannot come with a flashlight, because as soon as they see the light , they run away.
The only way to get pests to stay, is to have your light come from a torch. Indeed, pests hate light, but they love the heat, and therefore will stay if you bring fire.
Once you did find a pest, You better not do any wrong to it, not even dare walk on a pest. All people who have walked on a pest have been molested by over nine thousand more and have never been seen again.
The only way to kill a pest safely is to immolate it. Immolation is a way to absolution for pests. When a pest gets immolated, it reaches an extreme peak of pleasure.
If you want a real show, just start a fire in a cave, and look at all the pests slithering slowly up to the fire. Sometimes, you will even see tons of pests unburrowing from the ground just to run to the fire.
Pests movement speed is of an inch per hour, but if one starts sucking you, you get paralyzed, and get drained of all your energy, ever so slowly. You die a slow, but mostly extremely painful death, covered in pests.
When they are not bothered, pests mostly live of eating and sleeping. If you are lucky, you can see them chain up on one other and burrow in the ground and play snake games with each other. It is known to be where the idea of the game CurveFever came from.
A pest eats just about anything that is thrown to them. If they have no choice, they even turn into cannibalism. But they will never eat human flesh. I've heard one of them say it was because it had too much fat, especially 'murricans.

Hope you learned from this documentary, and remember, building an immopest deck a day keeps the doctor away.

Disclaimer: no pests were hurt in the making of this documentary.

Spoiler for Archangel:

Archangel[/center]

She glares at the cold, golden chain tied to her wrist. The chain that leads to the watch in her pocket, ticking quietly.

To others, it is a simple matter to suggest she throw the little trinket away, to take it and crush it under her foot. What they don't understand is how much the watch means to her, and yet how much it limits her at she turns it over in her palm.

She is not immortal, nor is she eternal as others would hold her to believe. She is fleeting, a mere speck of light that will soon flicker and blacken in a sea of brilliant suns.  Never remembered, nor cared for if she discards the watch. It holds connections, memories... and possibly an invitation to revisit. To reminisce, to play with ghosts that will always welcome her back, yet ghosts that are never quite there anymore.

They offer her to come back to the warmth of the past, at the cost of her future. It is one thing to observe the conflict and tell her to move forward, another to be trapped in her emotional limbo, to remove or to preserve.

"Have I walled myself in?" the question passes by her mind for a moment, as she observes the brown walls of wood around her, her private place. A treehouse, one she had helped build and play in. It had only been a month before the forest fire - a raging inferno that had burnt down all the tree but this one. She was the only one that revisited this place at this time of year, along with the ghosts.

A fleck of white falls through the charred remains of the roof and brushes her nose.

Winter. The herald of the white snow, of a frost that holds her tight and refuses to let go. If she stays this way, her light will disappear, submerged in the endless white of the snow. While the others celebrate  and craft their great work and writes their blessed stories, she will wither and die.

She blesses others, but there has never been anyone to bless her. Only the... ghosts.

Ghosts. A brief ticking and peals of laughter brings her back to reality, and she quietly slides out of the wooden box, onto the ground. She sees old faces around the children playing in the snow, adults guiding children to make snow castles, snowmen, and the like. Even if the forest burns down, the people that once played it in have returned, hoping to teach a new generation their joy. She sees one - no, several youngsters standing on the pile of rocks she used to stand on as a child, blessing everyone with a joyous song or witty poem.

The faces may be unfamiliar, but the roles are of a story she's read countless times. Of a person who could never leave, her desire for freedom halted by a gold, glittering chain.

A second passes, yet another drop in the ocean of time, but in that second, her decision is made.

She pockets the watch, but this time, she lets the chain slide off from around her wrist and into the soft darkness of her jacket's pocket as she quietly unfolds her wings and flies away.

Time may call her back to the past, but the past is not where she lives. She keeps the watch as a reminder of what it has made her, but she will never be its prisoner as long as she breathes.

The blizzard begins to intensify, and the ghosts return to their town, back to their ordinary, cyclical lives of venerated tradition and custom. But in the midst of the sheets of white, a burning flame repels the torrent of hail around the angel, as she flies to seek the burning hearts of other travelers moving forward into the unknown.

Spoiler for Lycanthrope:

No meat, no chew, no sustenance. I haven't written in months... when last was it? Here I am, this weak 1|1. All I'd do to be 6|6, have a heart of darkness, a tooth to scare when I grin some toothy grin. For now I coil my fists, but without punch, only shaking them in anger. I AM NIGHTMARE. Or I could've been, but some phase made my existence unimportant, only something to steal away. Now I'm not here, or am I? I am the seed of chaos, some droplet of pandemonium. While I'm weak, I create a butterfly effect of destruction in your midst. There are demons, but they can't see me. My face is an abomination to my spirit of a dragon. Fear my determinism, you're without chance. My matter annihilates your antimatter. There is no question of whether I'm dead or alive, I am alive. I'll supernova your blackhole for kicks, mutate singularities for show

I AM NIGHTMARE. or... an abomination? fking elves

PS I like kitties

But as I've said, I haven't written for awhile. & I've never been wordy. Only repetitious: Lycanthrope lycanthropy, one one, six six. Monotony is charm. A century more this will all be old. Then my disgrace won't matter

-5|5. 5|5. -5|5. 5|5. Damn nymphs do nothing but waste everyone's money. Torn between the powers that be, a pawn to their toil, my only function: hatred. No paradox to escape, this strange loop is merely that, is this strange? I am stranger danger, waiting in the night, growing before I strike

Reverse time. Pay the rent & other bills. Return again: I AM NIGHTMARE

Spoiler for gargoyle:

    It was another dark day. Not overly surprising though, this was the land of shadow elementals. The majesty of the ebony trees and obsidian mountains had a striking, yet stark grandeur. The beauty of the landscape was lost on a lone gargoyle as it unfurled its stone wings. Were it more than an ambitionless, servile creature of stone, it might have noted what a waste it was to destroy this scene with battle. These thoughts never crossed it's mind. It had no need to think or ponder the poetic injustice of the scenery, it only had to obey its master's command.

    The inevitable soon happened. From out of nowhere obsidian towers shot into the sky, emitting dark energy to fuel his master's power of command. Looking across the battlefield it observed Etheral pillars appearing from the void. This didn't concern the gargoyle much, in fact, it bolstered its confidence. It knew its master's strategy against such opponents, and he rarely lost to an aetherling. As predicted his master sent out a wave of Pests, latching their segmented bodies onto the turquoise towers, further feeding their master.

To the gargoyle's surprise Several lightning bolts shot down, turning the pests into blackened husks. This was rare, Aetherals rarely took advantage of their control of lightning. The shadow elemental was equally surprised, though not enough to deter his strategy. It was simply a more intelligent opponent, nothing to worry about. Sticking with his strategy he chanted a spell, eclipsing what little light there was, deepening the darkness of the battlefield. Instantaneously the gargoyle felt stronger, not by much, but enough to be noticeable. It prepared itself, knowing that it would soon be summoned to battle.

Soon the aetherling absorbed its energy from the towers, becoming much stronger than the last time. Its following move shocked the shadow elemental more than any attack or spell it could have cast, it did nothing. Despite being strong enough to summon a phase dragon it just sat there, absorbing energy and forming more towers. Suspecting a trick was in store for him, the shadow being sent out his gargoyle to attack, hoping it could start chipping away at his opponent's health. Obediently the gargoyle sped off to the aetherling, clawing at him, and savoring the attack boost of the deep darkness.

Expecting the aetherling to try and protect itself with a phase shield, the shadow prepared to send a thief to remove it, yet the aetherling still did nothing but form more towers. Though he wondered if his opponent was dense, the shadow decided not to take any risks, using his remaining power to summon a shadow dragon clad in obsidian armor, which tore into the aetherling, causing massive damage when paired with the gargoyle's attacks. Thinking that the battle would be over soon the shadow elemental never considered his opponent's true strategy.

The aetherling, having deemed it had created enough power sources summoned two Psions, nothing too dangerous, and muttered a spell. They cast their damage on the shadow, nothing too horrible though, barely enough to be noticed. Un-phased the shadow sent in a vampire to the battle, draining a sufficient amount of life to keep the shadow arrogant, and ignorant of his doom. The spell, once thought to be the final words of a defeated enemy, soon took effect. Where there were once two Psions stood nine, pummeling the shadow with arcane attacks.

Acting quickly the shadow forced his dragon to consume a foul shadowy liquid, lengthening it's fangs and turning it vampiric in nature. This plan had a major drawback though, the dragon was inexperienced with how much life energy to siphon to it's master, causing it to send some if it's own every time it attacked. The aetherling took full advantage of this weakness and annihilated it with a single lightning bolt. Once the dust had cleared, the final nail in the shadow's coffin was revealed. Charging at him was an elite phase dragon more powerful than he'd ever seen before. Had he more time, the shadow would have noticed the source of the dragon's unnatural power, several turquoise shards hung from it's armor. Undeterred by these events, the gargoyle still attacked the aetherling, hoping to kill it before its master was defeated, but it was already too late, the psions dealt a final blow, killing his shadowed master. With no guiding force the gargoyle gave up its attack and flew off to a dark cave, reverting itself back to a statue, awaiting a new master to direct it in battle.

Spoiler for Forest Spirit:

Love is a Journey

             Her bright blue eyes shimmered off the reflection of the pond as she relaxed by the water. He watched from a distance hidden behind the deep green foliage, entranced by her movements. As the sun started to set she started to get up and ready to wander off back to her home, but she had hesitated when she got up. “Did she see me, I sure hope not”, he thought to himself as he darted back into the trees, “If she every found out, I would be as dead as a doornail.”

                  As he slunk back home he could hear the usual rants and jeers at him, “Hey tiny, she'll never love ya”, “Yo! Spirit boy, give up now while your still unknown!” The poor, sad little forest spirit could never get the girl of his dreams. He cried himself to sleep like usual, whimpering and whining as all the other forest creatures mingled and stayed out late enjoying the parties of the night. But once asleep the forest spirit had a magical dream about the most absurd things, adventures and dragons, tournaments and gods, mountains and oceans.

                   In the morning when the forest spirit woke up he realized he had to prove his worthiness to his love, or forever live in her shadow. He quickly packed a few things and set out to the East hoping to find what he was looking for, something to prove his love to the forbidden fruit of his pond. He started along a path in the fields and was enjoying the hike, until it started to get steeper and steeper, and soon enough he was practically climbing vertically up the side of a mountain. He was getting tired but was  determined to make it over the mountain to see where the next leg of his journey would lead him.

                    After making it across the mountain peaks and down the other side he noticed he was within a valley, a lush warm sun filled valley with many trees and a huge lake in the middle. As he started to get closer to the lake the forest spirit noticed a small sign in front of the lake, which he tentatively went to go and read. “Notice: To all forest spirits who drink from the lake of patience, be warned of its magical growth effects!”. After reading the final words about growth effects, the forest spirit jumped up and sprinted to the side of the lake, hoping to get a few drops in his mouth. But just as he was bending over to take his first sip of water, one of the trees moved in the corner of his eye. He stood up turned his head and looked at the tree, “don't be silly,” he said aloud to himself,”trees can't move. can they?” Realizing that he was just over excited by the lake he bent over once more hoping to get that first drop of lake water in his mouth.

                    But then he saw it again, the trees really were moving around him. So he got up and went to look at one of them, to see what was making them move. As the little forest spirit got closer he gasped in horror, they weren't trees but overly huge forest spirits that couldn’t move due to their size! He went back to reread the sign by the lake and take a bit of a closer look. Realizing that one of the letters was smudged out, he noted that it should have read “”growth defects”. At this startling news the little spirit started to run away from the lake as fast as his small tiny little legs would take him, wishing that he wouldn't become stuck and unable to move like the others around him. He thought to himself as he ran, “I'm happy with my life, a small little forest spirit. I can move around and do whatever I please each and every day. I just hope I make it back alive so that I can ask out my beautiful pond girl.”

                     As he made it closer and closer to his pond back at home, he started to slow down thinking that he was safer and safer by the minute. But as he rounded the final turn he bumped into an old and furious elf, who was not having itself the best of days. “That's it!”,the elf screamed,“I don't care what your story is, but your in big trouble buddy!” and he let fly a magical spell upon the forest spirit. After a moment of feeling no pain or harm, the forest spirit tried to apologize to the elf, and ran to the pond to see if his girl was there. But when he got there, she was nowhere to be seen. He went to the waters edge to sulk in the fading moments of sunlight left, but was hit with a shock when he looked at his reflection in the water. The elf had mutated him into an ugly looking frog! The forest spirit(now a frog) was horrified and was ready to run home and hide in fear. But as he turned around, the girl he admired was walking towards him. He tried to hide his face, but she was approaching too quickly. As she approached the poor little forest spirit(now a frog), she stopped and gazed at him. “Hey good looking!” she croaked, as she looked up at him with her big blue frog eyes.

Alright then, folks! To vote, you have no time left.

As usual, this may be extended. Now then, if you haven't yet, happy reading!

[Dm]

Congratulations to Opsinis' Relic! That day was brilliant.

... or all the days actually.

It's a relic, what does it know.