Plot Picture Challenge 46

[Greenie]

A picture is worth a thousand words, as is often quoted.

How does the picture below speak to you? Perhaps as a poem? Perhaps a roleplay idea? Maybe a story?

Whatever comes to your mind, write those words down! All is well and welcome, whether a couple of sentences or more!

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[Jays]

Record scratch. Freeze Frame.

'ello mate. 'tis me. You were probably wonderin' how I got meself into this situation. Ta tell ye the truth, I wonder that meself, all the time. Where do I start?

I used to be just a regular lad, ya know, just like ye. Except me da was a king and me ma a pretty wicked witch. Now, I kno what ye be thinkin'. "Oh no, what a tragic childhood, he must be scarred and broken at a young age. Poor lad. Well, at least he was a Prince, so there's that." Me childhood was actually quite alright, to tell ye the truth. Me da was way scarier than me ma, although she skin blokes in her spare time and he just kinda lounge around the palace. Da always tried to teach me stuff like how to be king and so on, it bored me near to death. Ma never asked much of me, she even gave me her spare scalps to play wit' when she don need them anymore. I had a little sister once, but ma sacrificed her to some sort o' spirit and that made da really mad at her. They stopped talkin' for a week or so before havin' make up sex for like 5 nights in a row. I guess ye'd find them quite strange, but tat' me ma and da.

When I turned 16 though, da insisted I go to the mountain to find some bloke called "Sage", but ma hated him so she gave me a potion. The trip was quite miserable, really, bu' da sent some blokes to watch me and they didn't like me turning back. So, after like, 17 years climbin' some rocks at the arse-end of the world, we found this Sage bloke who, I must say, were quite a nasty piece of work. He wanted me to learn some real nonsense text that made me head ache, so I opened ma's potion and Sage and all of da's friends dropped dead. So Sage's stuff became mine and I lounged like da around his place for a few years.

One day I fell into a well and cracked me head and died. As I was lying there I thought, what a shitty way to die. So I possessed Sage's skeleton to write a letter home asking me da to rescue me from some sort of made up problem. Da'd send some more of his friends and I'd push them into the well and they'd become skeletons like me. They all took it pretty chilled and were overall quite nice blokes to hang around with.

So, we'd chill and play cards and when more of da's friends come me mates and I'd make it a game to hunt them down and make more mates. I'm afraid me life's not as colourful as others, but ye kno, I'm quite happy wit' it.

So now ye be all caught up. What ye say to coming around to hang with me and me mates? It'll be a fun time. Talk to ye later tho', our new mate is gettin' aweh. See ye around lad.

 

[Sinnafain]

Beads of sweat formed around his forehead, upper lip, and the back of his neck. The warrior of an unknown age grimaced, his teeth clenched down nearly ensnaring his bottom lip in the process.

The circumstance of the situation, no his situation, proved precarious the outcome tragic if he were to even remotely lose hold of the rope; the connection between his life and obvious death. By no means was he a man of religion believing in life after death or any of that although if such a place as hell did indeed exist, he felt was thrust in the heart of it.

With a golden gauntlet covered hand firmly clutching the rope still against his better judgement, the male stole a look below. Stringy damp hair touched his bearded face and sweat made a beeline down his cheeks and so on. Above, to freedom, he could hear the protests of his comrade echoing from ear to ear urging him to stop lollygagging to leave behind all monstrosities of the circular bastille. They had what they wanted why linger longer than what was needed? In spite of the close waltz with death, he still found time to be curious. There they were, below him wadding through the dark water. Manifestations of evil. Once men or something of the sort, their failure resulted in the loss of their humanity and for those unlucky enough to bear witness to them they would see skeletal figures caked in long dried blood.

At the base of the enclosed space, where the air was humid and no shortage of rot wafted into the male's nostrils, sat the tapered pedestal. Surrounding it the dormant bodies and not a drop of water. It had been when the warrior withdrew the firey saber that set off the trouble. Water filed in from below and the decayed bodies walked the world yet again. He had been warned of what was to come, they all knew the risks however the debt was too great to ignore.

Hearing the clanking of the corpses made him turn away to the above where the light of the noon azure sky greeted him and would safeguard his life. With the crackling saber in his other hand, he kept his boots planted on the wall slowly but surely climbing up. His comrade sent words of encouragement descending to him of which he pushed to the side. He would rather remember the voice of his love. The last time they spoke it hadn't been on the most pleasant terms. In fact, he was sure he hurt her in a way she would never want to see him again let alone forgive him. It couldn't be helped.

His eyes closed a moment. When darkness enveloped him he was brought back to the time when the two of them were alone on the bank together. Instead of asking for her hand in marriage, he told her he had to leave. Her heavy tears hurt him. Leaving her destroyed him internally and all he could do was think about how to repair the damage he created. The voice of his comrade broke his thoughts. Opening his eyes, he felt a sharp jerk of the rope. It threw him off balance a bit. For a slight moment his comrade disappeared but reappeared shortly.

"Everything alright?" He asked. His comrade nodded hesitantly.
The warrior became guarded. Aside of the dank smell taking up residence in his nose, he smelled ash. The closer he reached the top, the more he could see the pained expression on the face of his comrade. Guard reverted to alarm.

"What is it? What's the matter?"

The other male responded, he coughed up blood and by the time the warrior threw a hand up over the top pulling himself up, his partner slouched forward. The rope slipped from his hands below. He had been attacked from what the warrior was able to see throwing his entire weight on to the dusty ground. Still clutching the prized saber, he turned to his friend.
Something tore a hole through his midsection, the wound was grievous. At this rate nothing could be done for him.

Looking around as he sat up, he discovered more bodies all maimed. They belonged to the members of the party scattered about like leftover trash. What had done this? He wondered, were they all dead? He felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise.

Something was behind him. As it breathed, his hair blew. He kept a tight grip on the saber. The scaled head of the midnight creature spread beside the warrior and steam rose from the nostrils. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the maw open revealing jagged teeth stained with human blood and a blinking red eye. The head alone was bigger and longer than the warrior. He had come from one situation only to be thrust in another.

Death would surely claim him this time and his thoughts were only on her, his love. His fist enclosed tighter around the saber's hilt.

 

[PoetLore]

What the bloody hell was he doing? he knew the tales of this well and the denizens of death that lived there. No bounty was worth his life, and yet, for the promise of a bag of gold and the hand of a very comely pride he was climbing down this accursed well and to his probable death. Surely he was insane, but honestly the thought of his bride and her full lips was driving him mad in the best of ways. Hopefully luck would be with him.

He could hear the creatures as he drew nearer to the water. Their screeches almost deafening before he could actually see them. He prayed that he would find the bloody sword quickly, and get out of there before any of them could get hold of him. he'd read that they had arms like sea creatures that curled around a man's legs. The only man ever to venture into the well and live to tell of it was the one who gave testimony to the fact of their appearance, even drawing a crude likeness of them for anyone who would listen. Most believed him crazy, but he was wise enough to realize no one could make up such a thing. The only bit of advice he'd gleaned from the tale, for which he'd paid dearly, was that they disliked light and seemed to hide from it.

So, he figured a torch was a better weapon than a sword and began his descent. After about twenty feet or so he could see them. They were gruesome looking and even though they were in the water the bones of their skeletal faces were stained with blood. Did they eat the men who'd come before him? Or were they those men transformed into these horrible, pathetic things? neither was a good thing to his way of thinking. He scanned the creatures and was elated to see the sword in the grasp of one of them. How to get it though...

He didn't believe the things could actually see, at least if they could he had no idea how it was possible. So he dropped a piece of bread into the water to his right. Every creature was upon it in a a second and tearing at each other as well. Hmm...he dropped item after item into the well and each drop produced the same effect of the creatures attacking one another. Soon their numbers began to lessen, and they became far more alert. He dropped his shoulder pad then and it made a louder splash and the remaining creature ALL dove after it. the creature he'd been watching most closely had been more cautious than the others, but when this louder plop hit the water her raised the sword up high enough to him to grab hold of it and yank it from the creature's startled grasp. He then hurriedly climbed back up and out of the well gasping for breath when he reached the top.

Proud of his efforts he returned to the home of the merchant who'd commissioned his pursuit and presented the sword. "Here is your sword from the belly of the well. I'll have my bounty then." He tossed the sword onto the table and then waited.

The merchant looked at him in shock. He had sent many men after the sword but none ever returned, and in fact he sent them BECAUSE he knew they would not return. He only offered this quest to men he hated and wished dead. It had been far less expensive than paying an assassin, until now. "Um...well..."

"If you have any thought about not delivering what was promised," he said as he leaned forward retaking the hilt of the sword in his hand, "This blade will be what ends your life here and now."

The daughter appeared and looked at the man, "Give him what he has earned father."

"But that includes you..."

Her eyes never left the man, "So be it. Never let it be said that my father is a cheat. I will do as you have promised."

The merchant paid the money and the two were married. She asked that he show her the place where the feat had been accomplished. He did so proudly, happy to show off his beautiful bride to everyone in town. "This is the place.." he said showing her the well.

"You are the bravest man I have ever known. What woman can boast such a thing?" she asked as she leaned into him and placed a soft kiss to his lips. He was overcome and delighted until he felt her weight suddenly shift and he was falling into the well. In darkness he hit the water and seconds later felt his flesh being torn from him in every directions. He did not even have time to scream.

The woman returned to her father and slapped his face. "Do not offer me again. I am tired of doing your dirty work."