Young Writers Society

Chapter 5: Kai and the Game of Strength

The Past

In honour of the death and rise to Godhood of Lano, a festival was held in the town. The people of the town lit lanterns and hung them about on the buildings to symbolize the riddance of the dark Soul Stealers. A month before the festival, a few men had gotten together and they had come up with a game to play beneath the lights of the lanterns and the stars. This game would be a test of strength for the men and the prize would be a cow as well as a kiss on the cheek from the most beautiful woman in town, (for those whom it interests, that woman, at the time, was the sister of Lano) Damara. The idea had been purposed to and agreed upon by the town- which had grown in size considerably- as well as Damara.

In the town square, a few women were sitting in a circle and playing weaving melodies on wooden flutes. They rocked back and forth and their music filled the air with excitement. Streams of coloured paper were strung between roofs and over posts, which painted the town a vibrant array of colours. It was almost as if the square were cloaked in a rainbow.

Cheers erupted from the bystanders as they waited in anticipation for the games to begin. They stood in a circle around the area where the participants would stand. When the sun had risen to the middle of the sky, the games began.

The town overseer moved to the centre and began to announce the participants for the games. He gave the name of the blacksmith, the woodsman, the farmer, the carpenter, the sailor… however, there was one name that he called that encouraged oohs from the crowd. He announced the name of the inn-keeper’s daughter. She was short and she had a tiny waist and she looked as if she would topple over at the blow of a single wind. Immediately following the oohs was a patient silence (albeit filled with tiny whispers of gossip) as they watched the tiny girl.

The first event was announced to be a weightlifting competition. Each contestant was weighed against the standard stone (not related to the modern stone); the blacksmith weighed 10 stone; the woodsman weighed 14; the farmer weighed 9; the carpenter weighed 10; the sailor weighed 11; but small girl- that tiny waisted inn-keeper’s daughter- she weighed only 5. People snickered and chuckled at her, judging her on her abilities before they were even displayed.

Stones were given to each contestant in a pile before them, each equaling their weight. The object was to lift as many stones above the head as possible. The winner would receive points and- in the end- these points would be tallied up at the end and the person with the most points would be declared winner.

The blacksmith was only able to lift seven of his ten stones. The woodsman lifted nine of his fourteen. The farmer lifted four, the carpenter lifted nine and the sailor lifted nine. The crowd had almost forgotten about the inn-keeper’s daughter. However, as the announcer was beginning to declare the carpenter the winner, the inn-keeper’s daughter hefted all of her stones. She set them down on the ground before she crossed her arms. “Sir, would you double my load please?”

The crowd looked on to her in shock as the announcer- whom was just as shocked- doubled her loud. The inn-keeper’s daughter was able to lift the new load with ease, but before she could request more, the announcer had reluctantly declared her winner.

The next challenge in the games was a race. Each person was to carry a sheep and race from one edge of town to the other. Each person had a sheep that was the same size as the rest, except for the inn-keeper’s daughter. In a ploy to spur her into losing, they had given her a fatter sheep. The villagers saw women as Yin, and therefore were ill equipped for jobs involving strength. By this display, the men felt their very manhood threatened and the women felt that their womanhood was tainted. However, knowing the feelings of the villagers, the inn-keeper’s daughter continued on in her pursuits.

When the announcer called the race to begin, all of the contestants began to run as hard and as fast as they could toward the other border of town. Each man ran as if he were carrying a sheep (as he was), but the inn-keeper’s daughter ran as if she were walking on air-- as if she carried nothing at all. She was the first to reach the finish line and set down her poor sheep. Once the other contestants had finished, the announcer stepped forth and held up the hand of the inn-keeper’s daughter. His voice was harsh and livid as he called to the crowd, declaring her the winner.

The evening continued, with various tasks being effortlessly won by the tiny inn-keeper’s daughter and as the evening continued, the rage of the village continued to intensify. As night fell, the games finished and the tiny girl stood before the town, claiming the title of the strongest person.

She had expected applause. She had expected her cow and her kiss on the cheek. Her reward- her reward for stepping out beyond the bounds of women- was to be pummeled with stones. Every man, woman and child all threw stones at her. The men threw because of their humiliation, the women threw because of their disgust, and the children threw as they thought that it was all a game.

Eventually, the inn-keeper’s daughter began to bleed, then her bones broke. She screamed into the air, struggling and thrashing until her bones were so broken that she could no longer do so. Her skin began to turn purple and red and eventually, she stopped moving, several areas of her person either bleeding, broken, or consumed by a blood blister. The people smiled at their work and left her on the street for the Undertaker to pick her up.

But when morning came, the Undertaker had no new body to bury. There was no longer blood in the town square. Instead, sitting upon the balcony of the office of the town overseer was the inn-keeper’s daughter. Her very being glowed and her brown hair had grown out long enough to reach her thighs. She was smiling mischievously down at the town as the people woke and beheld the spectacle of her.

The inn-keeper’s daughter had become Kurin, the goddess of strength and festivities. As she rested upon the balcony and the people gathered around her, she smiled and stood.

“From this day henceforth, both men and women will be equally as strong and each sex will be able to participate equally if they so choose.”