View Poll Results: ONLY 1 VOTE due to lack of entries

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  • Mega - Justifiable vengeance

    4 36.36%
  • Ariovistus Maximus - Practice, Practice, Practice

    1 9.09%
  • Nazgul - Hand of Ilúvatar

    2 18.18%
  • Saint Nicholas - The Ranger

    1 9.09%
  • Astaroth old bean - A Ranger of Ithilien

    3 27.27%
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Thread: Tale of the Week 65 - The Vote

  1. #1
    molls's Avatar Campidoctor
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    Default Tale of the Week 65 - The Vote



    1 Vote per person!!

    Read and vote.

    Share your comments.


    Submissions
    Submission 1
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Justifiable vengeance

    He seethed with anger as he gripped the parchment in his right hand, squeezing it with such force that bones crackled and nails bit thru the glove, then heavily calloused palms into the succulent flesh beneath. Freshly drawn blood now flowed freely, blotting out the finely etched calligraphy that described his disgrace. Not worthy!!!!! He screamed, smashing the already mangled hand into a tree that he stood by insuring it would never again be able write poetry or even print his name.

    The blood soaked document told this Guardian of the White Tower that he was not chosen to be in Gondor’s new elite unit….
    “The Dunedain Rangers“. Although highly prized for his skills, the Guardian unfortunately would not be among the chosen few.
    “Many thanks for your years of faithful service“….Farimir, Captain of Gondor.

    Nooo!!!!! Came the screams as the hand once again smashed with enraged defiance against solid oak .
    Overwhelmed by the excruciating white hot pain, the disgraced guardsman collapsed in a heap. Upon awaking, depression struck with fearsome might regarding the complete failure of his life. Then a sudden flash of redemption struck him….Saruman’s standing price for Farimir’s demise was 4,000 silver talons and dominion over his elite Black Guard. Now he need only wait in place for the rebirth of his honor. Without fail, Farimir led the daily patrol that passed not 100 meters from his hiding spot. With one last act, the remnants of a once powerful hand pulled back on the bowstring and through clenched jaws, enduring unspeakable agony.... Justifiable vengeance was but a bow shot away…..



    Submission 2
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Practice, Practice, Practice

    "Not big enough," my foot. I swear, Boromir and his tight-knit circle can be so presumptuous at times. I am as much a man as any in this city, yet they treat me as if I had just quit the cradle yesterday! Such arrogance! Elven males undergo army service at a young age; why must I be left at home like a woman?

    I know my city is in need of fresh men; why do they refuse to accept me into the garisson, when I could do such good there? Well, I will show them. Soon, they will see a true warrior. All I need is exercise, and they can't stop me from doing that, at least.

    Hmm; it's beginning to rain. Bah, what's the difference? A determined warrior must learn to suppress the desire for comfort. Maybe they will even notice me out here on the training field, and see my determination. Hah; more likely they will insist that I should be working instead of "playing games."

    Still, the rain makes it hard to see. Oh well, it will give my eyes a work-out as well. How about... 40 paces. That's a fit distance for a man to shoot at.

    The tension of a taught bowstring; how I love the feeling. The smooth wooden shaft is one with my hand.

    Breath in, breath out, hooold...

    Ahhh; nothing beats the feeling of a good shot. The tension is released throughout my body, and my ears are rewarded with the satisfying twap of the arrow into my target; a bulls-eye. Let's see what they think of this "child" when I beat them all at the archery tournament next year! Ha! I can see their faces now.

    Wait; did that tree just move? Odd.

    My eyes are playing tricks on me; the rain is getting pretty heavy after all. Still, you could almost mistake that shape for an orcish creature of some kind. Only, of course, if you were a child, and had nothing better to do. Heh, I remember when I used to battle all kinds of imaginary beasts here. Well, I'm much too old for that now; I'd better get back to practice.

    Now there it is again! I know there's someone there. I don't think he knows about me though. If I creep forward ever so slowly...

    A raiding party of Sauron! Or maybe scouts; that must be it. It matters little; they are a small group and our horsemen will trample them into the dirt, if I can but give the alarm. Or, better yet, I might just take them on myself. Wouldn't that be something?

    Could I? I'll bet I could. They don't see me, and there can only be six or seven of them. Even if they saw me now, I could strike down three before they reached me. Fine then; I'll do it.

    Now they will see what a man can do.

    Breath in, breath out, hooold...


    Submission 3
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Hand of Ilúvatar
    There I stood, my hand sore, the scorching cold of winter flailing...
    I strung my bow, knocking an arrow, my hand bled.
    The field rattled with the noise of wind, masking the sound of my steps, I lurked closer, my prey oblivious.
    I felt the rush... I felt it coming... A rush of blood to my heart, and it pounded.

    Boom-boom...Boom-boom...

    I drew closer, shivering. Clouds were gathering, I felt the chill run down my spine, I felt the rain threatening to fall.

    Boom-boom...Boom-boom...

    Another gust, another ripple, the wind sliced through me like the sword of the gods, I heard the ancients, they blew wind upon my face, I covered it with my mask, to no avail.

    Boom-boom...Boom-boom...

    My heart pounded harder, my heart pounded quicker... Adrenaline through my veins, and there it was - My prey.

    Boom-boom-boom-boom...Boom-boom-boom-boom...

    My heart raced, it drew near. I saw the Orc, his figure so distorted, his face so atrocious, such foul beasts were not to be allowed to live... Oh I felt the sting of the arrow in my hand, it pleaded me to set it free... It was anxious...

    Boom-boom-boom-boom...Boom-boom-boom-boom...

    A blinding light ripped the sky apart, the Orc was slain and I was in pain. The hand of Ilúvatar himself banished me, destroyed my prey. I looked at my hand and it was slashed, I looked at my bow and it was cracked.

    Boom-boom-boom-boom...

    I was dazed, something drew near... What was that? Oh now, the image was clear.

    Boom-boom-boom-boom...

    Hooded he was, crown to his head.

    Boom-boom-boom-boom...

    His sword went up, and I failed to react.
    Dead, was I?
    Nay.
    Dead, was he?
    Nay.
    The hand of
    Ilúvatar saved me.


    Submission 4
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    The Ranger

    His name was Dralion, Captain of the Gondor Rangers. He was part of a roving patrol that roamed the forest, patrolled these lands and kept the free people of Middle-Earth safe from the evil, at least that is what he was told. He was concealed in the brush, crouching low and peering through the undergrowth at his targets. A small band of orcs had wandered much too close to Human lands. They needed to be dealt with quickly and quietly, the nation's sovereignty had to be protected, it's people saved. Yes, this was his duty on this day. As he crept closer, signalling his men to stay low, he heard a faint rustling in the trees behind him. Quickly turning, he saw nothing. Must have been the wind he thinks to himself, there were always strange things moving about in this forest. Shaking his head, Dralion turned his attention back to the band of orcs, with a smirk on his face he drew his bow, and his men did the same. Did he feel pity? Remorse? The orcs were evil, their terror spread like a plague from Mordor, the tide had to be halted, the evil stopped. But they were defenceless, completely unaware that they were about to be destroyed. No matter he thought, they had encroached on their lands, if they were not stopped they would undoubtedly terrorise the plains or burn and sack the small villages further north. No, he decided, they must be stopped here before their slaughter was allowed to happen. He picked his mark, was just about to loose the arrow when a sharp curved blade thrust through his chest, clear through his light armour to protrude beneath his chin. He stared at the bloodied blade in surprise. He felt no pain, for he was in shock. It took a moment for all the pieces to click together in his failing brain, they had been tricked. The orcs had led them into a trap. They knew our tactics and our ways, they had led us here, knowing we would follow them. They must have sent a detachment to creep up behind us, while the main party kept moving, clever devils they are he thought. The full extent of their evil was now clear, he had failed. His life was forfeit, these orcs were free now to unleash their fury on unsuspecting towns. Dralion’s heart slowed, his last breath was short and full of blood. I have failed, my duty remains undone. He began to weep, there was no hope; Mordor would crush us all, one by one, the free people of Middle-Earth would fall to this menace. His eyelids grew heavy, he slumped to one side, laying there to rest till the end of days. The evil would spread, there would be others who stood up to fight, other brave men of Gondor and horsemen of Rohan, but the time of Dralion and his Rangers was over.


    Submission 5
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    A Ranger of Ithilien

    27th of Yavannië

    Thirteen days have passed since we left the White City. Winter is approaching quickly, the icy cold is biting my flesh. The lush green hills of Ithilien are engulfed in heavy clouds. It is almost nighttime now, darkness is embracing the hillsides of Emyn Arnen.

    The silhouettes of hundreds of Haradrim are approaching quickly. They're coming. Evil men from the south, fierce warriors on their way to Mordor. The Dark Lord is preparing for war. I've seen the endless hordes of orcs, evil men and beasts. There can be no victory against such an enemy.

    As the lightning strikes the ground the whole world seems to tremble with fear. We have made many sacrifices in this war, I have lost count on my dead comrades. What are we still fighting for? Why do we struggle? For it is futile, all hope is gone, dead, buried.

    They are coming closer now, we can hear their war drums from afar. The rhythm of death. My heart is beating quickly now, constantly picking up pace. Will I ever see the White City again? My wife, my little son? My family?

    To my left and right, my comrades are preparing to strike. Swords are unsheathed, bows are drawn. The mighty trees, Yavanna's beloved children, still shielding us from the eyes of the enemy. As I draw my bow, fury is suddenly rushing through my veins. I will not die here. My work is not done yet.

    As I release my first arrow I suddenly feel free. My fear, my worries, gone as if they had vanished. Disappeared into nothingness. Here we stand, on the hillsides of Emyn Arnen, ready to defend our freedom with cold steel. We will not falter, we will not run. We shall fight, even if it is the last thing we do. Without a second thought I draw my sword and charge towards the enemy.

    "FOR GONDOR!"














  2. #2
    Dave Strider's Avatar Dux Limitis
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    Default Re: Tale of the Week 65 - The Vote

    voted
    when the union's inspiration through the worker's blood shall run,
    there can be no power greater anywhere beneath the sun,
    yet what force on earth is weaker than the feeble strength of one?
    but the union makes us strong.

  3. #3

    Default Re: Tale of the Week 65 - The Vote

    Voted. Tough choice between two of them, though all are quite good.
    Alea Iacta Est (The Die is Cast) - Gaius Julius Caesar
    An army of sheep led by a lion is better than an army of lions led by a sheep - Alexander the Great
    We will either find a way, or make one - Hannibal Barca

  4. #4
    Mega Tortas de Bodemloze's Avatar Let's Get After It
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    Default Re: Tale of the Week 65 - The Vote

    Tis Tuesday...early yet..... each writer has garnered a vote....Perhaps the submissions & writers are getting better at their trade....Actually I'm told the pic this week is solid stuff. Those that had submissions waited til late. I'm puzzeled as to why we wer'nt swamped with stories this week. Why did everyone hesitate with their entries??????

    I've heard cuz of the TATW theme....but perception has NEVER hindered you'all before....Why was this pic harder to dive into?????
    Last edited by Mega Tortas de Bodemloze; December 30, 2009 at 04:13 AM.
    A Lion serves in Winter, then perhaps a Unicorn for the Spring.


    ****************
    If you cannot stand behind what you say.... then do not speak. If your words are taken out of context,
    then the weight of the evidence will still fall in your favor and carry the day

    The Casual Tortoise: Mega's Guide to Fast Turtling

  5. #5
    Saint Nicholas's Avatar No Avatar Specified
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    Default Re: Tale of the Week 65 - The Vote

    Tis the Christmas season dear friend, people are spending more time away from TWC than ever before I fear, hence the site publications being slightly delayed for this month. The last thing on people's minds at this time is coming to an internet forum to write a story I think, don't worry it will pick up again, like all things.
    "Muscovy", as its rulers have previously called it, is a sleeping giant, with age-old traditions and ways of doing things. Here, the feudal way of life has become so entrenched that the serfs are as tied to the land as cattle, and with almost as few rights. It is a vast, deeply conservative and religious country: Mother Russia and the Orthodox Church are the two pillars of national belief. The Tsar may be the father of his people, but by tradition and practice he is a stern parent. Ivan the Terrible was well named, and he has not been the only ruler with an iron will. Russia is the "Third Rome". The last bastion of Orthodox Christianity.

  6. #6
    Nazgűl Killer's Avatar ✡At Your Service✡
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    Default Re: Tale of the Week 65 - The Vote

    Quote Originally Posted by Mega Tortas View Post
    Tis Tuesday...early yet..... each writer has garnered a vote....Perhaps the submissions & writers are getting better at their trade....Actually I'm told the pic this week is solid stuff. Those that had submissions waited til late. I'm puzzeled as to why we wer'nt swamped with stories this week. Why did everyone hesitate with their entries??????

    I've heard cuz of the TATW theme....but perception has NEVER hindered you'all before....Why was this pic harder to dive into?????
    Who knows.

    Oh, by the way, it's Faramir. Not Farimir.
    Sorry man, it just pains me to see such errors. Small as they may be.
    Nazgul Killer's M2TW Guide
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    Good things come to those who wait... But better things come to those who never hesitate.

  7. #7
    Mega Tortas de Bodemloze's Avatar Let's Get After It
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    Default Re: Tale of the Week 65 - The Vote

    ** cough...Grammer Naaaazi, cough**That's on the asumption I'm going strictly by lore.... {maybe Molls will fix it..}

    Edit:

    Happy New year Tales of the Week and to our glorious/frenetic caretakers Molls/Hesus..and PowerWizard {Pw}/Torque
    my divne and Beloved Prince {MP}
    Last edited by Mega Tortas de Bodemloze; January 01, 2010 at 01:51 PM. Reason: Edit & Grammar
    A Lion serves in Winter, then perhaps a Unicorn for the Spring.


    ****************
    If you cannot stand behind what you say.... then do not speak. If your words are taken out of context,
    then the weight of the evidence will still fall in your favor and carry the day

    The Casual Tortoise: Mega's Guide to Fast Turtling

  8. #8
    Mega Tortas de Bodemloze's Avatar Let's Get After It
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    Default Re: Tale of the Week 65 - The Vote

    Transmitted direct From the Study of Jean=A=Luc- on the USS Enterprize....


    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 




    Can't believe this. Finally I decide to write it and TWC crashes for an entire afternoon and the better part of evening. Don't know if this is what you had in mind but by banging my finger tips against the keyboard I have managed to produce a body of text that closely resembles a review of the last TotW's submissions.

    I'm open to both praise and criticism. So without further ado:

    This week's TotW is loosely based on J.R.R. Tolkien's Middle Earth, more specifically the Third Age and Gondor's defensive war against the forces of Mordor. However the epic deeds, valiant heroes and shining glory that we might expect from such a story basis are mostly absent from this week's five submissions. Instead we are treated to themes of failure, aloneness, tension, foolishness and despondency with a few sprinkles of hope and camaraderie on the surface of this dark chocolate story cake.

    The first two submissions by Mega Tortas and Ariovistus Maximus are simialar as both deal with present or foreboding failure. The unrealized ambitions of late adulthood versus the foolishness and naivette of youth. In their own way each protagonist is doomed. While Mega's story is more visceral, more explicit in its portrayal of physical and emotional pain, Ariovistus uses a subtler approach with an almost child-like character "playing" out in the woods but whose impending fate, signaled by the intensifying rain fall, and the realizations that will come with it are no less tragic. Both stories seem out of place in Middle-Earth, uncharacteristic of such a high fantasy setting but therein lies the appeal.

    The middle tale, as I shall call it, by Nazgul Killer is an E.A. Poe-esque poetic prose featuring such gothic elements as cold ominous weather, anxiety, loud foreboding heartbeats, monstrous visages, confusion of the senses and a (para)normal deus ex machina, all contributing to a sense of surrealness whether it's realistically justified or not. Due to its composition and style the middle tale more resembles a story that men of Gondor might tell their children or each other, around a campfire at night than a realistic recounting of an event giving it that "a play within the play" or rather fiction within fiction effect even though there is no "play" within which this one is actually set.

    Leaving the middle tale and coming up on the other side we reach the final pair by Saint Nicholas and Astaroth old bean. These two works are very similar in their title and basic premise yet stand in contrast to one another. Saint Nicholas shows us that valiant men may still die inglorious deaths, that not every last stand is a heroic one and that true heroes are indeed mortal people unprotected by such things as "plot armour" or divine intervention. The hope of men may yet be swept away by tragedy. Astaroth old bean provides us with an optimistic mirror image of strengthened resolve and rising hope in face of deadly danger. The proud spirit of man that overcomes any hardship just as David slays Goliath. This last entry is closest to Middle Earth's typical epic theme and it ends this week's submissions on a positive note. Whatever our personal reality may be these two stories remind us that the proverbial coin of life indeed has two sides.
    Last edited by Mega Tortas de Bodemloze; January 02, 2010 at 11:52 PM. Reason: Edit & Grammar
    A Lion serves in Winter, then perhaps a Unicorn for the Spring.


    ****************
    If you cannot stand behind what you say.... then do not speak. If your words are taken out of context,
    then the weight of the evidence will still fall in your favor and carry the day

    The Casual Tortoise: Mega's Guide to Fast Turtling

  9. #9
    Ariovistus Maximus's Avatar Troll Whisperer
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    Default Re: Tale of the Week 65 - The Vote

    Well, this should be interesting.

    I'm SO tempted to vote for myself and make a 4-way tie.
    Land of the Free! Home of the

  10. #10
    Mega Tortas de Bodemloze's Avatar Let's Get After It
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    Default Re: Tale of the Week 65 - The Vote

    Quote Originally Posted by Ariovistus Maximus View Post
    Well, this should be interesting. I'm SO tempted to vote for myself and make a 4-way tie.
    Hmmmm....{I really really like the story I wrote.} Fingers nervously tap on the table as he passes the ballot box. {a soft audible thunk is heard}. "sigh"....scoffles off, down to the corner pub, to wash away the pain of his own self betrayal. {Pride, Gluttony, Envy}
    Last edited by Mega Tortas de Bodemloze; January 04, 2010 at 03:35 AM. Reason: grammar
    A Lion serves in Winter, then perhaps a Unicorn for the Spring.


    ****************
    If you cannot stand behind what you say.... then do not speak. If your words are taken out of context,
    then the weight of the evidence will still fall in your favor and carry the day

    The Casual Tortoise: Mega's Guide to Fast Turtling

  11. #11
    Hesus de bodemloze's Avatar The Gaul
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    Default Re: Tale of the Week 65 - The Vote

    Voted.
    Horum omnium fortissimi sunt Belgae :
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