Young Writers Society

"They cheated." Pratik slammed his fist against the scarred wooden table, making his spoon rattle in against his ceramic bowl and sending small droplets of soup spraying out. "I know it, and you know it."

And he'd repeated himself again and again and would continue to do so until he was blue in the face or until something was done about Strongmeadow's crimes were finally acknowledged and rectified.

"Of course they did," another knight muttered. "We all know it. But I still don't know what you expect us to do about it."

He didn't know, either. He grumbled for a moment under his breath. "We ought to just go get it back."

Camilla looked up from her plate at that, carefully considering Pratik’s words. “You know what? Yeah!” She nodded. “We should get it back.”

Camilla was always down for some good trouble, and this sounded like the best kind of trouble. She grinned. “It can’t be too hard, right? Those dirty, rotten cheaters can’t be good at anything if they have to stoop so low. We can take them!”

She leaned back in her seat, turning to her girlfriend. “What do you think, doll?”

Sa looked up from her soup. "Oh we can certainly take them darling. Especially when we have you on our side." Her hand wandered over to Camilla's shoulder, trailing its way down her arm absently.

She turned to Pratik. "Everyone knows it. Provided they have some semblance of a brain. Thats the worst part. They're still just letting it happen unless we do something about it."

Sa considered it for a moment. "As for getting it back. The real question is not if we can do it, but how are we going to both get it back and teach those fools a lesson so they never do it again."

"I promise you, Strongmeadow knows it too," Callista said, not looking up from the meat knife she spun between her fingers, occasionally dragging the blade against the edge of the table to sharpen it. There were many ridges in the wood at her spot, where she'd done this many times before out of boredom. "They lie through their teeth about their honor, and then they turn around to boast about it among themselves."

She set the knife down again, next to a plate she'd hardly eaten from.

"They cheat because they're cowards, however, not because they're incompetent," she added. "It wouldn't be a walk in the park to steal back from them, but I'd enjoy the challenge."

Pratik glanced between them all, then gave one of his notorious smirks that communicated that he was definitely about to get in trouble, and drag everyone around him into it, too. "Sounds like we're all agreed, then. Let's go get our trophy!"

Camilla lifted their goblet. “Here, here! Strongmeadow won’t know what hit them!”

"... we're gonna need a plan, though," Pratik said, thinking a moment. "Figure out the mechanics so we don't make fools of ourselves."

"I'm sure we can come up with that," said Sa. "It shouldn't be too hard to predict what those fools are going to do. We should also like I said definitely thinking about how to also make them look like fools. It wouldn't be a proper revenge otherwise."

“Perhaps there’s a pretext we can use to enter their grounds,” Callista said, leaning back in her chair. “The better reason we have to be admitted inside, the easier it’ll be for us to steal that trophy. What could we say?”

A wyvern had been listening from the steepled roof over a nearby window. He vaunted his wings, swung into a 180 tilt and swept into the room, spread talons, bulging mid-descent into kyanite-blue boot legs (for that was the color drake he was).

"Hold up a minute," Zglojik wobble-skidded to a halt, nearly bowling into Camilla. "What is a trophy to us, that king Althalos has not rightfully deemed ours? Is swiping sacred objects genuinely going to alter anyone's mind about which legion of Paladins should be entitled Superior? I contend we will appear as spiteful simpletons. Rather, Sa has emphasized optimal retaliation over mere stealth, and I like it." Sling snaked out an amethyt-&-gold yoyo from a hip satchel & forced it to recoil before his figure, casting *fluk~cheWakes* like a Pyre throughout the chamber.

"I submit we might devise a way to pressure some of Strongmeadow into confessing the details of their underhanded mechanisms. Otherwise I fear we shall muddy ourselves a slicker pit if we squirt grease back upon grease..."

Sa automatically wrapped a hand around Camilla protectively, frowning at Sling. Dramatic entrances that served no purpose were her territory thank you very much.

"Stealing the trophy is a matter of principle. It doesn't belong with those fools. I do agree we'll have to humiliate them properly to get it back though. A simple snatch and grab isn't quite going to sell it. If those morons can cheat to get it, you can almost guarantee they're going to whine about it being stolen."

Sa turned back to Callista. "If we could stomach it, there is one simple way to immediately get shown to the trophy." Sa grimaced heavily. "We could act as simple travelers who hear about there..." Sa made a gagging sound. "...and then ask to visit. It will require so much mental fortitude to pretend like they're actually good but playing to their ego is likely the quickest way to get access to that trophy."

We Slings twisted at the three dangling knots accentuating our chin. "I wouldn't say Strongmeadow are a lot of stooges, but you have a point, they will act the part if they get violated. Problem with acting like travelers is that they're fairly well acquainted with our postures and mannerisms, so it seems dicey. But it would lend a chance to bring a tourist cart or something to stow captives in if we incapacitate some knights for later interrogation purposes. Blowing fairytale compliments at them is ever a bonus, and alternatively, my soaring Side could divert attention away by buzzing across the sky around their Base.
Yettt we've to beware their toxin and illusions traps once inside - which were a few of the uncustomary ways they seemed to be gleaning advantage at the last Tournament."
Then Zglojik's cubed irises seemed to spin with webs of revelry. "Or maybe to get them to deactivate traps near the display, we could obtain, even forge a decree from the King detailing how we're a band of tailors and blacksmithees that need to temporarily remove the trophy for a fresh New Edition era style!"

Pratik scratched his chin. "You have a point, I suppose... wait, actually, who are you?" He glanced over at the newcomer as he was about to end his statement by addressing him directly and then realized he didn't have any idea what his name was.

Sling(s) squinted at Pratik. "Are you suffering an amnesia spell? I was excommunicated from Strongmeadow after I tried to disclose their dubious activity, and none the rest of them would testify to truth. I was left to wander the forests, when they succumbed to dark deeds. Shortly after, a dryad took note of my plight, bestowed upon me the way of the Wild Weaves - the sentient bond of roots sucked me underground, flooding me with visions of utility and longevity." Reliving the experience, his green eyelashes clasped together, and thin nostrils dug back through damp earthen pockets...

"Upon resurfacing, the rustle of leaves, burrows, and perched birds integrated my perceptions. It was no longer I, a human experience, but a low rumbling WE crawling betwixt my former spirit. We were near a stream-bed, and as I dipped to wash, my Face was expanded Anew! The skin was akin the Sun; pupils waved back at me with rotative-sided realizations entwined with Seasonal Wisdoms of Fortitude. We flowed, and rooted for each other. Our hair was long, violet and Twilight; our beard was blue free Sky! And I saw Vanora Palace across the distance, waiting to be redeemed..."