Young Writers Society

Story:

You are a Knight under the rule of King Bastian, The Mad King, The Hound, The Totally-Out-Of-His-Mind Crazy Old Weirdo. Your job is easy. You do what he says.

You live a life of luxury in Homme, The Half Kingdom, which sits under Castle, the castle that is also a Kingdom named Castle but functioning as an actual castle because that's where Bastian lives. Whatever.

You're living the life - keeping peace in the a.m., bedding wenches in the p.m. - when all of a sudden you're given a very important mission.



Right...

Well, you heard the man. Gear up!


Classes:

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[b]Name:
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[b]Age:[/b]

[b]Class:[/b]

[b]Demeanor:[/b]

[b]Personality:[/b]
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Upbringing:[/b]

[b]Bad Habits:[/b]
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A Typical Day In The Life:[/b]

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Rated 16+ for mild swearing and depictions of alcohol use.

Egg

"But do you have to leave?"

The smoke clogging the air was almost thick enough to hide the dark, slender girl curled at Egg's feet. What little sunlight penetrated the sweet-smelling haze lit the girl's wide, wet eyes. Egg smiled at her.

"Duty calls."

A perfect tear fell from the girl's eye.

"You would leave me with none but that boy? What will he give me? His tips?"

The messenger in the corner shifted from foot to foot, his curls bouncing as he hung his head. Egg smiled at him too, less friendly, and chuckled.

"I will pay him well."

In one motion, she dropped down low to kiss the girl and grabbed her pack from beside the bed. For a moment, the girl caught a hold of her pants, but The Arms sprouted then and gently detached the wench and placed her on the bed, even tucking her in before closing the door behind Egg's retreating back.

The messenger followed closely behind, nearly tripping in his own fear. It was always a surprise whenever The Arms decided to appear. Honestly, Utki had no control over them at all unless they allowed it. If she didn't focus on controlling them, they kinda did whatever they wanted.

At the least, it made her smile to look around and see the startled faces.

"What does the King want today, boy?"

"Y-yes M'lady! King Bastian has ordered the Knights to pack for a journey and then meet at the East Drawbridge. That is all that I know, ma'am."

"This better not be another food mission."

---

"I am sorry for my delay."

Egg bowed low at her comrades. Everyone was gathered at the bridge, bags already stacked neatly on the back of a carriage. The sun was just starting to dip below the walls of the Kingdom, casting long shadows and tints of orange over everything. Everyone waited either resting in the grass or seated in the carriage, looking tired and bored.

Only yesterday Bastian has sent them off into the Forest. The lines of weariness were still fresh on everyone's faces, except Ari's, who always seemed to be perfectly rested. For a moment, Egg narrowed her eyes at him.

"I got caught up in some business," she continued.

Though he did not say anything, she caught Alex's growing grin and shot him a measured look. Still, he coughed out a laugh and she couldn't help but smirk.

Chester, their Captain and Lord of Homme, rose from his seat among the grass, groaning as his joints popped. She held his eyes as he made his way over to her.

"Must have been some important business to keep us waiting for this long, Utki. It's been nearly a hour."

"Yes, Sir, I apologize. I was in a meeting that ran longer than anticipated."

The older man sighed and shook his head.

"Did she start crying again?"

"As always, Sir."

Chester let out a booming laugh, followed closely by Alex's, and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Right, you heartbreaker! Okay, everyone, let's be gone now, before the sun falls. KB left his socks, or some bullshit like that. We're off to Thant."

The perpetual smirk on Alex's face remained steady as his eyes drifted around the table of players. He found it interesting that most everyone else tried to wear an expressionless facade when playing poker, though he supposed him maintaining the appearance of one single emotion fell under the same concept. Deception, for him, however, was more than just a part of the game. This was his lifestyle.

A tension rose in the smoky room, as everyone waited for Alex to make his call. With his casual, consistent smile he pushed all of his chips forward on the table.

"All in."

As he watched the other's reactions he noted Lydia's brows visibly tense and Pharrick hold his breath. He could tell they were trying to read him, and whether or not it was all a bluff or not. Alex leaned back comfortably, waiting for them to make their decision.

It was in this moment that Alex spotted a familiar messenger of the king slip in through the back doors of the room. Though he didn't show it, he inwardly groaned. Work... was work. But it always seemed to inconvenience him. Flickering his eyes back to the other players, he tried to will them to hurry up in a fierce silence.

Pharrick let out a sigh, pushing his cards forward in resignation. "Fold."

Lydia did the same, though she seemed visibly less distressed about it. "Fold." It made sense though. She didn't have as much to lose as Pharrick, being a wealthy baroness who played poker in her downtime.

Alex let out a victorious laugh, and reached out onto the table, pulling all of the chips and money towards himself. As the other two departed from the table in defeat (Lydia, rolling her eyes), the messenger came forward and handed him the letter.

"Until next time, ey?" He projected to the two departing. Pharrick simply glared back at him and Lydia didn't even turn around, but simply waved behind her.

He turned to the messenger. "You know I haven't seen that sour sack win one game? It's a miracle he's still coming to these things. Must be an addiction, really, you know. Horrid thing, really," he spouted off. "And Lydia, hah, she says this is just a hobby but gods know she's knee deep in this too. Who knows what else she's involved in. I've heard she's struggling just to keep her current property. She's squandering all she has, you know."

Alex, still giddy from the amount of money he'd just collected, snatched the letter from his hands and opened it quickly. As his eyes skimmed over the words, he mumbled. "...Another mission."

"Yessir." The messenger meagerly replied.

"Well," Alex shrugged. "Guess I'll just have to spend my hard earned money when I get back." (He looked forward to buying some new throwing knives, and fine wines. Though mostly the wines, and overindulging.)


He hadn't even unpacked from their previous mission, so he just had to replace dirty clothes with clean ones, and he was ready to go meet the rest of the Knights. When he got there, however, he wasn't surprised that he was the last one there - wait.

He counted them all: Sunshine (Ari), Stereotype of a Tragic Past Misunderstood™ (Janet), Ms.Secretive (Marcy), and Hero to All™ (Sargon) were present, but they were missing his favorite person. Hard Boiled Egg. Of course, Chester was there, as expected, but for the time being, they'd all have to wait.

In minor annoyance, he threw all of his things in the back of the carriage and plopped down into the grass in a carefree manner. He laid on his back with his arms behind his head and stared up into the sky... bored, mostly.

The sword did not feel natural in Janet's hand. It was too weak, too rough, too cold somehow despite the last hour she'd spent training with it. This dark, dank trianing room had become her home but she doubted this shiy, formidable blade would ever feel familiar. Her eyes flitted towards the iron loop her usual sword was sitting on.

Tam.

It actually long preceded the fleeting seven days she and Tam had had together. But the angle it sat at... She closed her eyes and pictured it being exactly like that on the morning she and Tam had lain in the hotel room for hours after they woke up. The sunlight floating in-

"Mum!"

Sara, burst through the massive arched double doors and sprinted across the training hall. With a sigh, Janet put the sword down and took off her wrist brace.

"Hi, honey," Janet said, crouching down to Sara's eye level, "What's the matter?"

Sara panted for a few moments, her eyes darting about all over the place. Janet gulped as her young gaze took in various different weapons and ammunition. There was no way Tam would want this life for his daughter.

"There's a man at the door who says he wants to talk to you!" she exclaimed eventually.

Janet leaned to the side and looked past Sara at the doorway. "Do you mean the main entrance?"

Sara vigorously nodded her head, her hair flying about all over the place. Janet smiled and straightened her fringe.

"Alright then. Come on, let's go see what this man wants," she said. She took Sara's hand and led her out of the training hall. Stares immediately attached to her as she took her seven-year-old daughter through the corridors of the training complex. Nobody ever came in the old hall, the damp one that she used. It was better that way; Sara didn't realise how pathetic her mother was.

The man was leaning against the wall just to the side of the main doorway. He sprang to attention as soon as Janet emerged and grabbed a piece of parchment from his pocket.

"Summons for you, ma'am," he said, handing her the parchment.

Janet groaned and looked down at Sara. She'd had enough childcare problems today. The messenger kept staring right into her eyes and she rocked back on her heels, stumbling.

"Sorry, ma'am, but are you available?" the messenger asked.

Force babysitting on her neighbours, or risk not feeding her kid. She ran her hands through her hair and nodded at the messenger.

"Yes, I'll be there. But let them know I might be late. I need to find somewhere for the little one to stay," she said.

He nodded firmly, but he trembled slightly. Was he sympathetic? It was hard to tell when he could easily have been made from enchanted stone. Janet had definitely met gargoyles with more expressive faces.

"It's okay, Mama," Sara said, "Huri says I can stay with her whenever I like."

Yeah, so her mum can show you all her prized ponies and thoroughbred stallions. Wonderful.

"Okay, honey, I guess you're having a sleepover then," Janet said, doing her best to smile.

Sara grinned and punched the air. "Yay!"

---

Janet glared at the leg of Sargon's chair, just to keep her vision from blurring if nothing else. She had her old sword strapped firmly to her waist and she could almost feel Tam's presence, at once burning her hot and chilling her to the bone.

"You alright there, Janet?" Sargon said.

Janet realised she'd been fidgeting with the sword's hilt and yanked her hand off it.

"I'm fine."

He put his hands up and swung back in his chair. "Hey, just, if you ever need to talk."

"Yeah, Janet, it's not good to bottle stuff up," Marcy said from somewhere behind Janet. She'd barely even looked at the room when she'd come in. She just kept seeing Sara and Tam everywhere, staring at each other. So she'd focussed on the chair and not looked up til she'd plonked down on it.

"Look, just leave it," she snapped.

She sprang up from the chair and beelined over to the window, just staring at the sky. The beautiful blue sky. Was Tam staring at it too?

Marcella held her staff over the waning soldier and turned to the highly esteemed General Garner, "What have you put these Knights through?"

"Training. We got a little rough again." the General smiled with his arms crossed, looking over the bodies lined up on the mattresses.

However, Marcella didn't feel this to be a laughing matter any longer. She snarled, "This isn't how training works, Garner. What will happen when these Knights are out in the field, fatally injured in battle where both healers and doctors are scarce? What happens then? They die."

"I don't let this happen in the field, Marcella." The moment his mouth stopped moving, her anger only sharpened.

"Listen," She pointed the blade of her staff at his throat, gripping the hilt tighter. "This isn't a discussion. I won't heal your squadron if this is how they treat each other in training. I don't care if they're okay with this. I'll forbid my apprentices from healing them as well if you and your unit don't have an inch of self-preservation. I don't think you understand how much energy is taken out of my people in this job. Have some respect or learn to heal for yourself."

"Threatening a General, eh?" He trailed off and backed away, hands up in the air. Garner opened up his mouth to speak once again though Marcella's glare kept him from replying further. She hated nothing more than the treatment of clerics. How many thought they were too flimsy to be Knights. Too weak.

"Go,' Marcella said. "You two, you're on." She pointed at two of her apprentices. In an instant, both rose up from their positions and grabbed their staves, beginning to work.

"Shouldn't be so hard on the General. He's trying his best." The woman beneath her coughed.

"There. You're down to just a couple of bruises and scrapes." Marcella ignored her. In the back of her mind, maybe she knew he only meant well. She just didn't want to admit that.

After healing a handful of the Knights, Ms. Orwell from the help desk slipped into the room. "There's someone to see you at the front desk, Marcy."

"Alright. Seems like I might be gone for the rest of the day, companions. You know what to do." Marcy collapsed her staff into an item that fit in her pocket and sheathed the blade.

"Did this person say who they were or why they needed me?" She asked, speed-walking down the long hallway.

"Something of a message from the King, if I recall."

Marcy wondered what the King wanted from her. Did the details about her threat against Garner already get back to him? What else could King Bastion want of her?

"As requested, Ms. Pentifold." She scurried back to her desk, a slight look of worry on her face. With that, Marcy only expected the worst.

"I've been told to relay a message to you from King Bastion, Ms. Pentifold."

"Yes? And what might that be?"

The messenger handed her a letter. With a pocketknife she tore open the flap and began to read. "Now this is interesting. I don't know how the hospital will handle without me around, though I can't say that I'm disliking what I'm reading."

A place on the Royal Guard. Marcy smiled to herself. Her co-workers and apprentices wouldn't mind if she took up a quest? Put progression on hold for a bit? No. They wouldn't mind. After all, turning down King Bastion wasn't exactly an option.

The sun slowly rose above the empty badlands, where no soul but one would roam. And that one soul was Sargon, who was patrolling said badlands. Sargon was always patrolling the badlands. The king had long ago decided that since Sargon has no apprentices, his job would be to patrol the badlands. Pyromagic was a difficult magic to learn, and so very few qualified for his apprenticeship. It also has a high risk factor, so the ones that do qualify often refuse the offer. Thus, for some reason, Sargon was assigned the badlands.

"Sargon, from now on, your role will be patrolling the badlands," said the king.

"But the badlands are so inhospitable that not even one warrior, let alone an entire fighting force, could make it through to the kingdom," claimed Sargon.

"Yes, but if they do get through, we'll want to have some protection."

The king's response had never answered to his original claim, that no one could survive a trip through the badlands, but Sargon reluctantly agreed to his assigned task. And so, here he was, in the badlands. Sargon laid on the ground, staring up at the sky. By now, the sun had risen up to nearly midday height, and the clouds seemed to run away from it, spreading across the horizon, as far from the massive ball of flame as possible.

Sargon looked up to the sun. Actually, most people did that, but in the literal sense. Sargon metaphorically looked up to the sun, as one would look up to a parent, or a commander, or a really good chef. Like, really good, because Sargon is known for his high expectations when it comes to cooking. But anyway, Sargon looked up to the sun, a massive ball of flame so powerful no one could even look at it. That was pyromagic at its finest, and one day Sargon to even come close to that power and ability.

As Sargon lay on the ground, staring at the sky and it's powerful king, the sun, he heard footsteps approaching. Leaping up, he saw a runner, wearing the generic runner outfit, a tunic, long pants tucked into shiny black boots, and a satchel of notifications and messages meant to be delivered.

"Oh, hello. Jacob, was it? I was just taking a quick break, nothing serious. Don't worry, I was definitely still patrolling hard, just in case of the off chance some attackers make it through the badlands and threaten to topple our kingdom. Not that I see that possibility as, well, possible, but I am most definitely a loyal soldier who would never question his commander's decision." Sargon blabbered, clearly quite flustered.

"Um, yessir. The king had a message for you. Lemme just grab it for you." He reached into his bag and shuffled through the small but dense pack of letters, finally pulling out a white envelope with a golden seal. The note was handed to Sargon, with a polite nod.

"Thank you, Jacob. Dismissed."

The runner turned and sprinted off. "By the way, sir, it's Jonathan!" He called over his shoulder.

"Darn!" Muttered Sargon, not with that exact wording. He opened the letter, ignoring the feeling of disappointment that he once again couldn't remember a subordinate's name.

Dear Sargon,

Your presence has been called for, in a meeting of high level warriors and generals. The reason for said meeting shall be covered during the discussion, and so it is with great urgence that I ask you make your way to the kingdom's council room.

Sincerely,
The King

The way back to the kingdom was long, and the only relief along the way was that it could be travelled slowly. Sargon sighed, knowing that luxury was no longer valid. He turned and began his long journey back.

Ari had been an early riser from childhood, much to the chagrin of his parents. This habit had continued into his teenage years, uninterrupted, shocking everyone he was close with. Even now, he still rose long before the sun did. And that was exactly how he was bursting at the seams with energy when the messenger – yawning as he opened the door – arrived.

“Morning!” Ari, who had been in the middle of reading a good book prior to the woman knocking on his door, said quite cheerfully.

The messenger yawned once more and handed him an envelope. As he struggled to open it, the young messenger watched him with the grogginess of someone who only had a handful of hours to sleep after the rush of everyday life. He had never seen her before, so he guessed that she was new to the job. Which would also explain why she hadn't adjusted to less hours of sleep. Long, uninterrupted hours of sleep were something not many were able to have in Homme.

Several minutes passed. The only sound in the room was the old clock Ari kept in the corner and the slow ripping of the envelope. After realizing that he would be unable to rip it neatly in a short period of time, he gave a sigh of defeat.

“Are you good with opening these?” he asked, gesturing at the envelope.

The woman stared blankly at him.

“I'm terrible at it,” he elaborated, “and I hate when I accidentally rip the letters too.”

She hesitated before taking the envelope out of his hands. As he watched her open it, he admired how perfect the rip looked. Try as he might, he knew that he could only dream of that type of perfection.

“...Aren't you supposed to be the royal mage?” she nervously asked, almost as if she feared that he would smite her for asking. Which was completely out of the question – the thought of harming someone, especially a messenger, for being curious was a horrific one that made his stomach turn.

He nodded when he grabbed the envelope. “I am,” he replied, giving her a very warm smile. “I know I'm far from being mysterious and occasionally professional, but I'm good enough at my job to please the king. And that's all that matters to me.”

His attention shifted from her to the letter. He briefly scanned its contents, as he was a fast reader and it was no shorter than the king's usual letters. He returned the letter to the envelope, and, carefully folding it in half, put it into his pocket. The messenger waited outside of the house as he put together his belongings and threw on his favorite traveling cloak.

Last, but not least, he grabbed his beloved staff.

“Thank you for delivering that message,” he said to her because gratitude never hurt anyone. “And if you ever need help and I'm not out of town, just come to me. It doesn't need to be magical – I'd be happy to lend a hand.”

The messenger watched, dumbfounded, as he exited his living quarters and walked out into the street.

Then she yawned again, as it was still quite early.

Egg

The carriage bumped along soothingly on the uneven road. Utki lay on top of it, listening to the chatter of planning going on beneath her. It was a nice, breezy day. Utki couldn't stop the yawns that kept creeping up her throat. Tears dotted the corner of her eyes as she stretched out another one and smacked her lips in satisfaction.

The dungeon was not so far away now, and Chester was burning with that warrior energy that came so easily to him. Complain as he may about his station, there was no one more suited to be their Captain than that excitable ginger. He held the title of Lord and still got his hands dirty with his crew. That was dedication. Utki smiled and turned on her stomach, edging closer to the back of the carriage at the mention of her name.

"Utki, you're going to be our front runner. I want that wall up immediately! Illfang's place is dangerous with a capital "D". We're not taking chances on this one. In and out. Ari, you take the map and plan our route."

At that, she tuned out again. She understood her part well enough. Yeah, Illfang's place was dangerous, but they'd been to plenty of dangerous places before. Hell, she hung out with more dangerous folks than the sort she beat on missions. She knew she'd be fine, as always. and she'd go back home soon enough to finish her prior engagement.

The ones getting the real talking to were Sargon and Alex. And, well, Sargon's dragon as well, but he little thing was curled around Sargon shoulders, snoozing away. Utki was thinking to follow in its lead when the carriage came to a jarring stop.

Instincts taking over, Utki jumped from the roof to land next to their horses, The Arms were already sprouted from her back and hovering over her head.

"Janet! Are you okay?"

The woman jumped from her driving seat, sword drawn, and joined Utki on the ground. As soon as the Warrior's feet hit the dirt, she was off running.

"Bandits! They look like Illfang's," she called.

"How did they know we were coming?! Chester!"

Chaos erupted.

6 bandits (2 dice, 20 hp)

"Janet, watch out! Quake!"

8 damage to all enemies

all enemies now target Utki

40 damage done to Utki

"God dam- Ah!"



"Utki, hold on!"

*Ari runs to try and save Utki, but 2 bandits take him, and our map, and run away. Seeing this, Chester takes off after the bandits. They are all on horses.*

No. They had Sunshine! No one was supposed to mess with him but Alex. Alex flipped off the bandits that were running off with him and hoped that Chester was able to save Sunshine's sorry as-

Alex's attention was taken by the four bandits still present, but most specifically, the fallen Egg. Alex sneaks forward in the shadows, weaving in-between the bandits. He snaps his fingers rather flamboyantly.



He hits two of the bandits with his throwing knives, lodging them in their backs.



Shnk! They get a slice in at his side.

4 damage done to Alex

"Ah, shit!"