Rosenrot

RPGC #21: How The Guild Saved Christmas - Voting and Critique

...My dumbass really thought I'd already posted my vote.

Well, if the count's still going...

My Vote

No surprise, it's "Christmas Never Dies" by Gwynbleidd

What Are You Listening To?

The Plague Knight Chronicles: Chapter 1

Lua did not miss Kapti's faltering accent. Her eyes narrowed and her thick brows furrowed. She was making no effort to hide her suspicion but she hadn't time to pursue it, yet. Whatever he was hiding was surely nothing in comparison to a city overrun by the Cursed. “Yes, Sir.” She muttered in response to Lucian. The apprentice thrust the crossbow back into her mentor's hands none too gently, if only because her focus still lingered on Kapti. She knew Lucian would not hesitate to leave her behind if it would keep the Cursed from overtaking the city, and she didn't take it personally. He'd left comrades behind before. She'd seen it, and she'd do the same to him if there were ever a need. The only thing that mattered was putting an end to the Curse.

While Mergoux returned to the inn, Lua jogged north. Looking for another gate would only waste the precious little time she had, so she scaled the cemetery fence and landed in the slums. At least the rain seemed to be washing away some of the stench, or so she thought. The expressions on others' faces as she passed told her otherwise.

Getting directions to the hanged man's house was difficult. No one wanted to talk to a shit-reeking stranger, especially not about such nasty business, until she flashed a couple of coins. Anything that would hasten her mission was worth the literal price, though she was loathed to part with what little money she had. Fortunately, even copper pieces were enough to loosen lips in this part of the city. Soon, she was standing in front of the ruined house. Like all the others too close-by, it was really more like a shack. Simply four walls and a roof, though two of the walls and most of the roof had already collapsed.

Inside, she picked through the rubble. There was very little to be found, and none of it useful. A few broken toys, a pile of straw and torn fabric that had probably been a mattress. Lua looked up through the broken roof to the darkening sky. The shadows were growing long around her. At nightfall, she'd be trapped in the slums. If she was lucky, she'd dead by morning. More likely, though, she'd end up among the Cursed.

The apprentice kicked at the straw-pile with a frustrated scream. The debris shifted. There was still enough light left for Lua to see a book sticking out from underneath a fallen beam. With a little effort, she lifted the wood and pulled the book, some kind of crudely-crafted journal, free. Excitedly, she dropped the beam and began flipping through the pages. With a groan, the house collapsed.

---

A high-pitched trill accompanied Lua's waking. Her eyes opened to the last bit of gray daylight and a pulse of adrenaline surged through her. The falling house had been enough to knock her out for a time, but there simply wasn't enough structure left to truly injure her. All the same, no one had dared approach the already-damned place, so it was up to Lua to pull herself from the rubble. She snatched up the book, and was off.

To the surprise of the few people near-by, the stranger emerged from the collapsed house at a full sprint. Despite the black wall of night looming ever further across the sky, her pace slowed suddenly. As Lucian had said, the slums were being evacuated. All of the poor were crowding like cattle towards the checkpoint at the end of the bridge. Lua shouldered her way through as far as she could. It was slow, but she was making progress.

Some distance ahead still, a dog began barking like mad. A familiar voice called out “Raise the bridges!”

Her arms seemed to move on their own as Lua pushed through the crowd. The screams around her seemed miles away. The sensations of the bodies crushing against her was faint. For the first time in many years, Lua felt helpless. The guards and their dogs were nearly halfway across the bridge. They shouted as the bridge split before them and started rising. Instinct overcame the young Raven Lord. In the mere moments she had left to do so, Lua made a decision.

---

Across the river, the book appeared from the dark, unaccompanied. It sailed over the rising end of the bridge and slid into the lantern-light.

Then, there was a loud thunk against the bridge itself. A collective gasp rose from the crowd, followed by total silence as all waited. Two hands appeared a second later, gripping the top of the bridge. Slippery fingers nearly lost their grip before an arm hooked over the top. A strained groan grew to a roar as Lua pulled herself over. She landed in the mud, heavily but on her feet.

Without a word, she picked up the journal and shoved it into Lucian's chest. There was blood on her hands and shame in her eyes, but she was alive.

What Are You Listening To?

What Are You Listening To?

What Are You Listening To?

What Are You Listening To?

The Plague Knight Chronicles: Chapter 1

Lua smirked at her mentor's retort as they followed Shiara out of the crypt. She stopped immediately at Lucian's command while he retrieved the head. The apprentice gave a quick nod and another “Yes, sir” at his order to investigate the hanged man's home. Thankfully, the air was growing fresher with every step the group took towards the exit. Finally, the only stench remaining, Lua realized, was themselves.

When they stepped back into the drizzle, Lua's eyes widened. Her ancestors had told tales of giants and demigods, though Lua had never before believed in them until she laid eyes upon the mountain of a man waiting for them outside the catacombs. Her mother's bed-time stories seemed all too real as she surveyed Kapti. His initial tone of hostility caused the young raven lord to tense. The crossbow raised slightly in reflex but Lua hesitated to aim. He was still far too docile to be one of the Cursed. His thick accent, however, was difficult for her to interpret and she wasn't sure if he was friend or foe.

Her evident insecurity was soon replaced with a sudden frown once his words began to process. He certainly wasn't dressed like nobility, nor a constable, so by what authority was this person demanding to know their business? Was everyone in Kenfort determined to question them? Mergoux stepped forward and bid this new stranger to call the law or get out of their way. A rare smile, different from her subtle smirk, flashed across the apprentice's face. Lua was liking this woman more by the minute.

The massive man's demeanor changed and Lua visibly relaxed. He offered to have their armor cleaned on his own coin, and her suspicion returned. She glanced at Lucian to see if he appeared to share her apprehension. The man reiterated his question about the contents of the still-moving bag hanging from Lucian's belt. She bit her tongue barely in time to keep from spitting a remark about minding one's own business at their interrogator. The question had been posed to Lucian and she would let him answer, though she resented wasting their dwindling time.

RPGC #21: How The Guild Saved Christmas - Discussion

Damn near bailed on this one, but thanks to some much-needed confidence from @Lord Wraith and @LordOfTheNight... I followed through, for better or worse.

Good luck to you two, @Gwynbleidd and @Calle!

RPGC #21: How The Guild Saved Christmas - Prompt and Entries

Sober Solstice

Alongside the Lands of Men are the Realms of Fae, their mystic kin. As seasons change, so do the Fae who reside behind the palace walls, the living trees of the Wooded Hall. After the shortest day, the Hosts of Winter come out to play. One final feast on that last, longest night of their faerie year and all those spirits of the cold gather from far and near. With their queer music, the air was filled and on white snow, their Fae-light spilled from high doors of the Wooded Hall and tiny windows on lanterns small. On this most holy night, even the Fae themselves will come alight, all in hues of green, blue, and white.

In and out of doors, the Fae all danced with bare feet eager for a chance to prance. The Hosts of Winter had no cause to fear the cold with their steps so light, they never sink into the snow. Their feet dipped not into the drifts as they waltzed to swap their gifts. Drink flowed freely and there were libations abound as they swirled and they sloshed, splashing onto the ground.

A cheer rose up loud from the crowd in answer to howls ringing out across snow-dusted grounds. Strolling in from that year's last hunt, came the Wolves, quite the rowdy bunch. With them, they drug in all sorts of game to be skinned, prepped, then roasted over open flame. All lifted voices in merry songs and even the Wolf King sang along. With a leg of lamb in his other hand, He raised his cup, a clear demand. But, whilst awaiting another round, a Solstice tragedy had been found. All conversation, then, was stopped as every lute and lyre dropped. Some-fae let out a most awful cry:

“The kegs, the kegs, they've all run dry!”

Well, 'waste not, want not,' as the humans say. For every spilt drop, the Fae would now pay. Snow and Frost, those palest twins, quickly lost their fiendish grins, and only just, Night caught the Moon as, in despair, she rightly swooned. There was not ale nor wine left for these spirits. They wailed so loud, mortals could hear it.

But humans, they were very wary of the tricks often played by faeries, so when unearthly Hosts came pleading, not one mortal heart could be found bleeding. Not from one drop, would they part, not from weakest ale nor wine so tart. The Fae were doomed to a sober Solstice and, in their mourning, all did forget which guests had not appeared yet. Fae's feet trekked back in somber step. With no sign of season's pep, the Hosts returned to the Wooded Hall. Yet, high above, a strange light burned.

Finally, Frost turned her pale eyes and pointed a finger to the sky. All there felt blessed, when two brothers, late, yet smartly dressed in fur trimmed suits of matching red, came landing in their deer-drawn sled. With his cuffs and brim of white, Klaus laughed loud with all his might at his friends' faces, grown so long, now quickly turned to joy and song. His brother, sporting coal-black curls, had heard those beggars search for drink, while down chimneys, Klaus had gone to slink. To see their friends in such despair, it was then that Krampus had declared:

“The humans, they will pay their due!”

For every in tavern, there's at least one flue.

The mortals would soon woke to find, in lieu of gifts, they'd been robbed blind. Every bottle and barrel, from tamest wine to the moonshine most feral, had been pilfered and plucked to make Solstice un-fucked. From the same bottomless bag that once had held toys for all good girls and boys, now Krampus and Klaus filled cups, horns, and mouths. In the back, there sat a small, struggling sack. Krampus reached in and gave it a strong pat, and it ceased all of that. Given a choice between old habits and booze, well, he just couldn't choose. Yes, he'd still nabbed a few kids who'd been bad, to take and abuse.

“I saved the Solstice! Why should I have to lose?”