Pulp Fiction -- An unofficial writing contest redux

Rotgut the Friendly Goblin (Book 8)​

After the chili fiasco in Owl's Head, Rotgut decided it was best he moved downwind for a while.
"Why does this keep happening?" he grumbled to himself as he kicked at some dust and rocks on the trail. "I try and I try, but I just can't seem to live with humans."
The clear blue afternoon sky did nothing to lift Rotgut's spirits. He glared up at it with disdain, a bead of sweat forming on his furry brow, and belched a curse. Deciding half an acre was enough of a hike for the time being, he waddled over to a flatish mound of dirt and dropped himself down on his rear. ​

"Got to keep my strength up. That hill's bigger than it looks," he mumbled into his grody old pipe as he packed it full with a stubby thumb. Once the pipe was lit, Rotgut belched out a smoke ring and pulled the remainder of the chili out of his knapsack.​

About an hour later, he stood up and stretched out the stiffness, broke wind, and shoveled his belongings back into his pack. ​

“Rotgut? Is that you?”​

Rotgut turned towards the voice, licking the remains of pig entrail off his fingers and squealed in glee when he saw who it was.​

“Melvin! You're back from the capital!” the goblin cried as he waddled over to the prim elf with arms outstretched.​

“Yes, and I just passed through Owl's Head,” the blonde merchant replied, deftly sidestepping the oncoming mass. “I could tell you had been there recently,” Melvin added with nostrils clenched, but flashed a white smile at his rotund old friend. “Still experimenting in the kitchen, I take it?” ​

“I've almost got the recipe down,” the aspiring chef insisted, wiping his hands on the buttocks of his trousers. “It's the humans' fault. Their tastes are all screwed up.”​

Knowing precisely the tastes to which Rotgut was referring, Melvin rolled his eyes and swept his hair behind his shoulders. “Maybe it's you, old friend. I seem to recall an incident back west involving a certain mushroom chowder that polluted the entire town's water supply.”​

“That wasn't my fault,” the fat goblin sniffed.​

“You gathered poisonous mushrooms and fed them to everyone. And then they got sick and it tainted the well.”​

“I didn't force them to eat it,” Rotgut shrugged. “I didn't get sick.”​

Melvin closed his eyes and pursed his lips. His hand grasped the hilt of the rapier at his side in frustration, but he simply opened his eyes and smiled down at the earnest goblin. Rotgut never meant any harm, Melvin knew that. He also knew how disaster would follow the poor old slob around like a magnet.​

While Melvin was contemplating this, something struck him. Something he had heard from some adventurers a few months ago. A rumor involving a certain artifact of great power. ​

“Hey Rotgut, old friend,” he began with a flash in his eyes, leaning in, but staying out of range of his companion's breath. “How would you like to turn your luck around?”​

​

These writing contests are a lot of fun, aren't they?

What, another one?
In an effort to keep interest in creative writing among the community, I figured another unofficial writing contest would be a great idea! This time, we're going to be preemptively filling the pages of the various dime novel books that wandering bards and scribes such as yourselves have had published and scattered throughout New Britannia. These stories are the kind that are published bit by bit, one chapter or tale at a time generally revolving around the same character or cast of characters. They usually involve a cliffhanger (but not always!) to keep the reader interested and to continue selling.

For real world examples, think Goosebumps, Doc Savage, Strange Tales, whatever. There needs to be tawdry romances (nothing graphic please), adventure epics, and scary/freaky tales. These episodic stories are written to sell, so you've got to keep your audience reading and guessing! Anything you can imagine that the denizens of New Britannia might want to read is fair game, just try to keep all fantasy elements inside the realm of feasability within the game world or it may seem disjointed.

However, since this is such an open topic, here's a twist:
*Don't write the beginning or end!* Pick a portion in the middle and pick up the story from there. This should add a bit of challenge! After all, in an open world game, it's very unlikely that a player would find books in the order that they are written. How well you implement this will be a key factor in judging the winners!

Some examples:​

-Lovecraft the Bard's Tales of Passion IV: The Barmaid With No Face
-The Lich's Curse (Part XVI): The heroes finally arrive at the lich's castle, only to find...
-The Path to Courage (Part VIII): Inspiring tale of one man's redemption, Mack finally gets a job

So what exactly am I doing?
To enter in the contest, just post your submission in this thread. However, given that these could be potentially the books you find in-game, you can't have each one be overly lengthy or players may lose interest or not bother reading them at all. To that end, try to keep these short: the very highest word count accepted for the contest will be *1000 words*. Also, as with the previous contests, I would ask that people do not submit more than *two entries* to allot for the time it will take to read over the slightly longer submissions. Keep in mind your second submission can another part of the same series!

Have your submission submitted by 10:00 PM Central Standard Time (GMT-6) Thursday, January 23rd (the day before R2). The winners will be announced at 12:00 PM Central Standard Time on Sunday, January 26. Depending on the size and amount of submissions, I can't estimate how many "winners" will actually be picked, but I'm hoping there are at least 5-10 excellent submissions for showcasing!

In game terms, these could be the foundation of the player-written libraries that will be filled once the game goes live. If they're really good, you can write more, and they may even be featured! Once again, however, this is an unofficial contest run by a very unofficial person and how or if any writings are used in any way by Portalarium it is at their own discretion!

Good luck, have fun, and thanks a ton for participating! Let's keep this community awesome and creative!​

 

I'm sorry but I can't submit a story because RL take over and I'm out of time.

 

The Romance of Orna and Adgarrigar, or The Princess and the Cartographer:
A Tale of Sextants, Dragons, and Rocks that Roll
Lines 49-104

They fled from Darkstone's evil queen
And never turned to look behind.
They crossed a field and climbed a hill
And there a homely inn did find.

But Orna now began to see
The mapman in a whole new light.
How handsome was his manly face!
His shoulders, broad; his eyes so bright!

And the princess with her hair of gold
Burned with womanly desire
As she did watch him make his map
There beside the cracking fire.

"Take me now, Adgarrigar!
Take me! Take me as you will!"
The Mapman looked up, quite perplexed,
He corked his ink, laid down his quill.

"Take you? O where shall we go?
O Orna! Let me plot the course!
Shall we go by light-as-air device?
By skiff, on foot, or on a horse?"

"Not by compass, Adgarrigar!
Take me here and now you fool!
And love will be our guiding star
Our only navigation tool!"

"But Orna, we're already here.
I cannot take you here again.
Come point out a continent
A hill or wood or shore or fen"

The princess with her hair of gold
Still burned with womanly desire.
And so she took the half-drawn map
And tossed it in the cracking fire.

"Now, my dear Adgarrigar,
Plot your course and plot it well!"
She loosed her binding bodice lace
And then upon the bed she fell.

"O Orna, I am such a fool.
We cannot set out now. You're right!
Dragons lurk out the dark.
We shall depart at dawn's first light!"

A cushion flew across the room,
A cushion from the princess' bed.
Her aim was true. It stayed on course.
It hit Adgarr right in the head.

And the princess with her golden hair
Burned, but now with wom'nly ire!
As he sat to remake his map
There beside the cracking fire.

Her drew the lake, he drew the stream,
He drew the valley and the moor.
Adgarrigar, he never heard
The gown or garter hit the floor.

But then at last, he did look up
And this is what he saw:
Territory unexplored!
"Mapman," she said smiling, "Draw!"

 

The Collected Works of the Ancient Monitorian
Book VIII: Riddles & Fragments

RIDDLES, continued.

§ 437
Wherever I take you,
I stay where I am.
And wherever I run,
I am in place.

§ 438
Above all.
Below all.
In all.
Yet nowhere.

§ 439
Darker than night
And yet, I illuminate.
Pushed, dragged and dried out,
In silence I sing.

§ 440
I was never forgotten,
But am never recalled.
I never come to mind,
Nor am out of mind, either

§ 441
Once I flew,
But dampened, now I dance.
Once I made no words,
Now I make many.

§ 442
Mages call me friend
And soupmakers, too.
To others I am bane,
And best left in my bed.

§ 443
Often I am not much to see.
But when I swell, I am mighty.
A thing of great power:
In the end, so much white foam.

§ 444
Though I am given freely,
I am never diminished.
The more I am shared,
The more I become.

§ 445
No mouth.
No lips.
Yet when I move
I sing loudly.


FRAGMENTS

§ 446
…broken rock…
Eddying and swirling…
In the end, many, one…
Exoticness and fire.

§ 447
…candle…
…lutes and tambourines…
To the place I belong…
West….
…home…country…
Roads...
What is lost to the darkness…
…to the light

§ 448
…lords…
…insomuch as there was hope
…mighty and despair…
Ankle-bath (?) ...

§ 449
Dawn… …waiting, waiting…
Oracles and traders…
Rising…
I was there!

§ 450
Brothers…
Tower…
Three, always three…
Many books…maps...
Trees (?)

 

For those who followed and loved the writing that came out of the Underworld story competition, and my previous tale "A Forgotten Secret in the Underworld": I never stopped writing, for there is much more tale to tell! In two new short instalments, Holt Ironfell tells chilling tales about his companions, and vengeance against insurmountable odds.

Caitlin-Ji's tale, "The Assassination of the High Precentor" leads you into the hidden life of one of the most brilliant assassins of our day.

Kialyra Greyroot's tale "The Voiceless Songstress" is the haunting introduction to the deepest most dangerous secret a young Poets' Circle apprentice may have ever possessed.

All of these take place 'in the middle' of the story, there is much before and much after. It's something of the nature of my work, the classic 'Bard's Tale' based around intriguing characters with mysterious backgrounds and agendas.

Go ahead and read, you'll definitely enjoy!

 

Well, time to close up!

Congratulations to our winners, Malchor2 and Holt
^_^

Enjoy R2 everyone!

 

Well done Malchor2 and Holt.....How about giving your writing winners an in game title ?

 

I already have a title. Grandmaster Bard

 

Keep writing guys! Write an entire saga in game and you could be immortalized!