Short Story/Poem Contest

http://imageshack.us/a/img825/3126/writingcontest.png

Time span: October 22nd – November 5th

The smell of pumpkins was normally a comforting thing for Bob the Settler, but not this morning. He hadn’t grown any pumpkins on his farm in years, yet when he woke up the air smelled like orange squash. Alarmed, he threw the covers off and ran to the window. Dread filled his heart as his worst fears came to life: a green pall of fog had fallen over his precious family field, and suddenly orange pumpkins dotted what only last night was full, plump wheat.

Not again!

A deep, frightened chill rippled along his spine as a figure emerged from the smoke. Eyes met eye sockets as a Grim Reaper, dressed as one of the master generals, stared him down. Everything around him ground to a halt until the screams of children in the adjacent room snapped him out of it. Grabbing his trusty shovel, Bob the Settler ran to defend his family from whatever else threatened them this Hallow’s Eve.

Halloween is creeping up on us…so why not celebrate the most horrific event of the year by showing us your writing skills? Since the creepy official in-game Settler Halloween event has just started, this will give you plenty of time to think and write up the creepiest Settler horror story or poem of all time! So prepare your pencils and keyboards, ready your minds and write a short horror story OR short horror poem involving our beloved Settlers.

Let the horror stories commence!

Prizes

• 12 stories will be chosen to win 500 gems.
• One grand prize winner will receive a personalized title on the forum: "Master Storyteller"

Rules

• You must have one game account.
• Underage players must get their parent’s permission first.
• Do not use trademarked imagery from other games/IPs.
• If there are inappropriate stories or poems, please report them via the "report post" function.
• Participants agree that Blue Byte/Ubisoft is allowed to announce the winners and present their submitted works. Channels that may be used to announce the winners and show their work are the websites, forums, Facebook groups and Twitter channels of The Settlers Online.

Story Guidelines

• Your story or poem must be related to The Settlers Online.
• Do not use profanity or other inappropriate topics.
• There is no character limit, but please remember that they are supposed to be short stories/poems.
• We appreciate scary stories, but please do not get carried away with gory details.

How to Enter

• Post your story or poem in the designated submission thread. It must be posted in the correct thread, or it will not be counted.
• Any changes to your story/poem will not be taken into account, so please be sure that your submission is the final version.
• Only submissions that adhere to all the requirements above will have a chance to win.

The deadline is November 5th 2012, at 23:59 PST.

The Ubisoft/Blue Byte team will be choosing the twelve winners, and they will be announced on November 9th on the forums.

7 a.m. Oct.12
Dear Diary,
Greta and I arrived only yesterday to our new Island home, tired, but hopeful that we may be able to build a life here among these other new settlers. It was late when we landed, but even so, walking through the town to our new home (a grand Noble Residence, no less!), I could see the folk here were hardy, continuing their work late into the night. I am off now for my first day at one of the many local bakeries.
Otto.

7pm Oct.12
Dear Diary,
Such a thriving place! Everyone working toward a common goal it would seem: the betterment of the island in some way or other. And such diligent workers all! It would seem they have boundless energy, and I felt a twinge of guilt at having come home after only 12 hours baking bread. I sleep for a while, but will return to baking shortly. So much bread! What can this be for?
Otto.

6:35am, Oct. 15
Dear Diary,
Many new settlers have arrived, some of whom are quite rough around their edges. I give them much space when walking to and from work, and see them going toward a large green building in the distance. I am told it is a training ground for soldiers. I fear we may be going to war, but find it difficult to imagine such a thing happening to our quiet little village.
Otto.

11:52am, Oct. 17
Dear Diary,
Calamity! The bakery where I worked was destroyed in some unknown catastrophe last night! I attempted to go to work, but found a new smelter of some kind had sprung up where the bakery once was! I know not what to do with myself. A neighbor has said there might be work to be found at the barracks. I may be forced to investigate today if nothing else comes up.

6:22pm, Oct. 18
Dear Diary,
I went to the barracks out of curiosity today, and found myself handed a flagon of beer. Then another. And another still. Before I knew it, I was falling over, waving a bronze sword around madly, trying to hit the practice dummies. I am a recruit in the Island army now, gainfully employed, yes, but told that I can no longer stay with my Greta, as we will be shipping out soon. Our quarry is an island with some evil witch.

8:45am, Oct.20
Dear Diary,
We landed on this forsaken ground a few minutes ago. I can see the fires from nearby enemy camps, and hear what sound like dogs and men alike doing battle. There is a smell of sulphur from a large and menacing castle in the distance, that contains some unspeakable horror, I know not what. I grip my sword for comfort, hopeful my limited training is sufficient to keep me alive. My general looks so young, but he seems to know what he is doing. I pray he does. And now, we are ordered forward, our quarry a small camp ahead. I march.

Dear Diary,
It has been several weeks, and no word of Otto or his fate. I fear the worst. It is as though there is some invisible hand guiding us, pushing us toward a fate and purpose I know not to what end. I strive to find meaning in this place, but at times, it just feels as though I am in some grand game being played by another, which asks of me only to do my duty, to work, live, and perhaps die, in its service. Is that truly all there is? Am I but a character in a charade, something meant to serve as amusement for another? Oh Otto, where are you? I go now to work another day. And another. And another.
Greta

wild mary pumpkin queen
cavalry killer unseen
death awaits the scene

All that can be seen through the fine mist that is clouding the land is a dark red fire that burns in the west. They can feel it....... edging ever closer. Is it just in their minds or is it real? On this most foreboding, dark day the settlers prepare for the worst.

The skies seem to darken and yet are afire all at the same time. Wait...... what’s that just over the ridge? Can you see it; can you see the fire, feel the cold that slithers up your spine, as you turn to look at it? Wait..... no don’t look....... will it give it more power, will denying it the fear that burns in your heart, weaken it, lessen its power that it holds over all? But what if not facing it, gives it the strength to rip the very fabric of this once peaceful land to shreds?

Fear clouds the judgement of the settler’s elders....... you can see it in their eyes, feel their heart beats quickening though you are nowhere near them... Could it be that all the combined heartbeats are causing this, this sense of foreboding that is taking over the settlers, like an unforeseen malignancy? Children stare out from around their mothers skirts...... wide eyed and full of fear.... like deer that are on their final descent into darkness..... They know it’s coming, they know not of what their fate will be.... but they know it’s coming....

Wait..... What’s that...... it wasn’t the settler’s heartbeats that was causing the overwhelming sound of heartbeats in your head..... NO........ Its hoof beats..... Faster, faster they come. Louder and louder till that is all that can be heard.

This is it....... isn’t it? Your fate is sealed........ Will you have the courage to face what must be faced? Will you take your loved ones and try to deny the inevitable that is coming..... That you have known has been coming for so long...... No... Please just a few minutes longer, why does time seem to stand still and yet move so fast.....?

There is a sickly sweet stench of death in the air.......... Blood flows like wine across this once peaceful land.... One figure is visible through the dark mist that is now colored red.....

The hooded figure stands alone atop his demon steed..... His eyes glow red under the hood, illuminating the white of his bones..... the hate radiates off him like a heat from a unstoppable fire....

He alone..... is victorious, he alone... will never die and he alone will destroy all.....

Darkness descends, foul creatures and sounds abound throughout the land. Sweat trickles down the brows of the villagers, the smell of fear pervades the very air they breathe. The cloying stench of decay perfumes the ambiance. Whispers, hush tones are the only proof that this island has any life on it at all; they fear this time above all else. A sickening reminder of their shattered past, promises broken, and promises that must be kept. They prepare the children once more this year for the sacrifice owed to the land that grants them prosperity. Cries and screams gain urgency, and tempo, till they rip apart the very seams of this grim time. Blood once again drips and fills the earth, soaking it up hungrily with bestial purpose. The sacrifice has been made to cover the sins of the ancestors long dead that promised too much just to ensure the island would thrive forever more.

Once upon a time there were two settlers that were going about their jobs quite industrially. They always went down their assigned path, into the storehouse and out again to their wells, which were beside each other in the land of Zeus. If these two met up with each other, they would talk about the road, how productive they had to work and how soon it was to Halloween.

One day Settler number 1 (called that because he was closest to the storehouse) heard a strange noise coming from his well as Settler number 2 was coming by. Number 1(for short) called Number 2(for short) over and asked him if had heard a strange noise coming from Number 1’s well.

Number 2 said that he had. They could not figure out what it was. They thought about having Number 1 go down into the well, since it was his, but suddenly the well started howling at them. They both jumped back from it and said to each other, “Run!”

They ran off to the storehouse screaming all the way. When they got there, they were so scared that no one could understand them no matter how everyone tried. Finally, Number 3(because he was next to them, but further down the road) told them to lead him to what was wrong. They came up to the well and saw something that startled the three of them.

It was Eliot with his big pumpkin head sitting on the side of the well. He was sopping wet and laughing himself silly. Number 1 and Number 2 instantly understood what had been going on, but Number 3 still did not. Number 1 and Number 2 had started getting angry as the seconds went by, but then they looked at Eliot and then at Number 3. Number 1 and Number 2 just could not be angry and started laughing just the same as Eliot.

What had made them laugh at Number 3 was that he had thrown his hands in the air and was very red in the face. He just did not understand what was going on. Number 1 and Number 2 took pity on him and told him what was happening. The three started laughing some more.

Eliot said that he had had fun pranking them and hoped they had no hard feelings against him. The three settlers turned and looked at each other and smiled. Number 1 said,” No, Eliot, you did a great prank.”

Eliot said then that he had to go prank some other settlers and needed to leave. They waved him away, laughing as he squished and sang and squished and sang down the road away from them.

"You have to go there.. you lost the match!"
"No, I won't! It's scary, spooky and most of all.. midnight and I'm tired!!"

PrincessMarri and her friend Matthaos were playing cards with a few other notables at the guild house halloween party as it turned into a grandiose game of side-bets, dares and half-truths.

The latest challenge, venture out into the blackness of night to the other side of Stone-face mountain to a haunted mansion nobody had ever dared to go near for the last 10 years. Wild tales of blood-curdling screams, earthquakes and missing children had kept everyone at a long distance. Horses would buck off their riders, bowmen would run away and recruits would wet themselves just thinking about this mansion.

"I'll take you to the edge of the clearing, but you have to go up and open the door and step inside for at least one minute," Maathaos stated defining the rules.
"Give me my coffee"

Past the marble and stone mines the duo and a small group of followers rode on horseback. Two cliffs forced them to walk the rest of the way along the water until they reached the clearing. Up on another rocky knoll in front of them stood the silhouette of a giant granite structure. Immense, ghostly and silent it stood. The wind was chilly and the moon cast an eerie glow over the long field up to the entrance.

"Ouch!"
"Go.."
"Fine, I'm going.."

With one last chug of cold coffee grinds, PrincessMarri made her way out into the open. One foot in front of the other.. Stop. Was that a dog bark?.. humming randomly.. halfway there..

"SCCCREEEACH!"

She hit the ground as a white owl floated past, now silent. One hand motion from out of the shrubs behind her.. and she once again looked forward. This time she ran.. almost there. Heart beating. Feet jumping over weeds and holes in the ground. Getting smaller and smaller, barely seen by her companions now.

Then the earth fell out. Face smashed against the dirt at the foot of the mansion. Everything was moving, then again silent. Earthquake? She didn't have time to think. From inside the dark structure came the most terrible painful scream anyone could imagine.

"AHHHhghhghhh!!!"

Frozen like an ice princess. Barely breathing. Eyes wide and yet seeing nothing but shadows…

"MAKE IT STOP!!!"
"I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!"
voices not her own shot out into the night sky.

She saw what seemed to be a flash of light escape from a small second floor window.
She was all alone.. but yet definitely not alone. There was something inside the house.


-to be continued-

Have you ever seen a settler die,
And watch the light fade from his eyes?
Pray tonight that you dont see
Pyre's burning and the souls that flee
You will know that I am here
Handing out this settler fear
And know that it is not just wrath
Life is but a small part of this path
Long no more for days of old
Or seek comfort from the cold
Whisper and you shall know
Every fear your heart can sow
Exit this place, enjoy the ride
Now you realize, I am just the guide.

Eliot’s Revenge


Its dark, I mean, it’s really dark. In the dark I hear screams and somewhere there is breaking glass. I stir from my bed, moving slowly. As soon as I put my feet over the side of the bed I feel a coldness creep up my legs. I fumble for the flint and stone to light my candle next to my bed. The light flares up, making the shadows move in a sinister way.

I move towards the window, wondering what is happening. I look outside my window and see the stonemason building on fire and in the streets I see people running around. My body tells me it should be early morning; the sun should be shining, but its dark outside.

I hear a bump coming from my door and then a scream. I shudder at the sound, but I run to the door and open it. My eyes see the toolmaker; his name escapes me right now, lying on top of Jessica, the bread maker. The toolmakers head lowers and he takes a bite out of Jessica’s shoulder. My eyes go wide as the toolmakers head pulls back and his mouth now full of Jessica’s flesh. The blood flows down his face and I notice that Jessica’s shoulder is now bleeding profusely. The toolmaker finishes his feast and starts to put his head down for another bite when, swoosh, a silvery flash strikes him.

I almost dropped my candle watching what is happening, but I hold onto the handle. I see the soldier, Stilgar I think is his name, holding his steel sword, which is now firmly planted in the toolmakers back. Incredibly the toolmaker gets off of Jessica and starts walking towards Stilgar.

Stilgar is a soldier in the mayor’s army, he lives two doors down and he had a head that looks like a bullet. He has no neck that I can see and his chest is bigger then most horses. With a jerk he pulls the sword from the toolmakers back and swings again. The toolmakers head fly’s off of his body and lands at my feet. I jump and again almost dropped the candle. In my mind I am finding it hard to understand why I haven’t dropped it yet.

Jessica screams and Stilgar yells at me to get some towels so I run into my place and grab the only towel I use. Its brown and dirty, but at least it might help. Stilgar looks at me then at the towel and grabs it, pushing it on Jessica’s wound. Jessica is moaning and she is shaking.

Suddenly Stilgar stands and hold his sword ready. I yell at him that we should be holding the towel against Jessica’s wounds. He shakes head and tells me it’s to late and for me to get behind him. I am now wondering if Stilgar has lost his senses when Jessica slowly gets up, her eyes now red and her mouth turning black. I stumble backwards as Stilgar swings his sword, decapitating Jessica.

I turn away in horror, but Stilgar just grabs my arm and yells that we need to get to the mayor immediately. I stumble out of our three-story apartment house to see the identical three-story house to our east is engulfed in fire. I see people I believe to be dead laying on the ground, some in such condition I wonder what could have caused it. We walk down the road, both of us not talking, taking in the sites. Down farther we see where I work; my copper smelter is dark inside.

I have a feeling that I should be at work, but with the darkness and so many fires in the village I cant help but think that our world here is now changing forever. Stilgar sees someone stumbling towards us and he tells him or her to stay away. They moan and I see that the eyes are red, just like Jessica’s. I watch as he approaches, there is blood dripping from the mouth and now I can see it that is my neighbor, Duncan. Stilgar starts to take the swing to end his life when I yell no.

Stilgar pauses and I push forward and yell Duncan’s name. He turns towards me and puts his hands out. I reach for his hand when Stilgar moves forward and with a great swing takes Duncan’s head clean off. I stumble and fall to the ground, grief stricken. Stilgar then explains that the people I see are not the same people they used to be. His wife had turned into one when she was bitten. I start to cry, feeling lost. He pulls me to my feet and tells me we must keep moving.

I look at the Mayors house; it’s the largest one in the village, and see a light in the Mayors office. Stilgar sees the same thing and tells me that is where we are going. We finally reach the Mayors house after a couple of scuffles with more people that want to bite us. I can actually smell them. To me they smell like death. I can only hope the Mayor is okay.

We creep slowly to the house, past the large horse statue, and into the foyer. Stilgar moves strait to the office, which is on the second floor. We see the door open and he holds me back and we move to it. We hear a squeaky voice gloating over the mayor. He is large fellow and he is tired up in his chair. The figure standing over him is explaining that soon the village will be his. The zombies (they are called zombies, ahh) have taken the village and soon everything will be dead.

The thing talking has an actual pumpkin for a head and a very skinny body. He is dressed as we are, but it looks ridiculous on him. I feel the air move and I see Stilgar rushing forward, his sword swinging in an arch to behead the pumpkin head. The pumpkin turns and uses a pole that blocks the sword, which surprises both Stilgar and me.


Stilgar looks back at me and yells for me to free the mayor. I run over as pumpkin head is parrying with Stilgar. The mayor tells me to grab the knife he has in a drawer. I open the first drawer closest to me and he screams it’s the bottom drawer and to hurry. I grab the knife and start to cut his ties when I hear Stilgar fall to the ground, his sword tumbling away.

The mayor tells me that I have to now confront Eliot. Eliot, what an odd name for a pumpkin head, I look at him and I don’t think I will be able to attack him strait on. The mayor whispers to me that I need to move to the left while Eliot starts to move around the other side of the large desk. Eliot tells the mayor that he will now bring the rest of the Harkonnen’s will be able to come here through the pumpkin fields.

The mayor watches as Eliot got closer to him and then he kicked out and hit Eliot in the leg. The mayor yells telling me to go, stab the pumpkin. Without thinking I stab forward and I feel the knife slide in till it stops. Eliot screams and drops his pole. I let the knife go and Eliot slides down to the floor, yelling he will be back soon.

I quickly untie the Mayor and we pick Stilgar up off the floor. We follow the mayor to the graveyard and he explains that the pumpkins grow best near the dead. Once we see the pumpkin patch the mayor sprinkles on a white powder and suddenly the darkness starts to fade and the sun starts to shine. It was just another Halloween at Settlers Online.

The settlers were dressed up,their pumpkins were lit,
Some were complaining their costumes dont fit,
They called on their friends and relations as well,
Ooh he is dressed as the devil,has he come from hell,
They collected their treats,played some tricks on a few,
Cos they havent answered the doorbell on cue,
They came back weary from their treats and their trickses,
To find to their horror theyd been been rolled back to Christmas

BANG!!! Something hurls itself against the cellar door. Little Johnny launches off his chair. In a panic he slips and slides across the kitchen floor in his socks. "Johnny's got an over active imagination," that's what his parents would say.

"The tavern is no place for little boys to be hanging around after school," Johnny's mom says and orders him home. "I have to work late tonight but your father should be home earlier then normal, the smelt will be shutting down early for repair. Johnny looks at her disappointedly. "Go on," she says. Johnny drops his head and shuffles out the door.

Latter that night mom comes home and finds her husband but no Johnny. "Where's Johnny?" "I though he was with you," dad says. The two go out searching for Johnny. They walk the stone paths. "Something's wrong with that boy," dad says. "He's always off somewhere and he can barely sit still in the kitchen and enjoy a meal with us. He's giving me a complex." "It's not you," mom says. "He's says he hears things. He's just afraid." "That's ridicules," dad says. "I was never afraid at that age."

The village is small and every one knows everyone else so it didn't take long to track Johnny down. He was at the trade office sitting quietly doing his homework. "What are you doing here?" mom asks. "Homework is supposed to be done AT HOME! You had us worried." Johnny looks up and assertively says, "I don't want to be home alone. There are lots of people here and I like that better." "This has got to stop," dad asserts. "And it's going to stop!"

The next day Johnny's dad goes to the village barracks. "I need someone to teach my boy how to have some balls." "You've come to the right place," the drill sergeant says. "I have just the plan."

The two show up at the house. "Where's Johnny?" dad asks. "Up in his room," says mom. Dad hollers up, "Johnny!"... No answer. Dad looks at mom. "He's up there," mom assures. Dad hollers again, "Johnny! There's someone here to see you."... "GET DOWN HERE BOY!!" The drill sergeant barks out. "Don't make me drag you down here boy."

The drill sergeant steers Johnny around through all the areas of the house. They finally get to the door in the kitchen that leads down to the cellar. Johnny reacts violently to the notion of being made to go down.

"I've found the problem," the sergeant says. "Now I'll implement the plan." The sergeant drags little Johnny down the stairs kicking a screaming and locks him in behind the lower door. Mom is very upset by this. "He'll stay down there till he learns there's nothing to be afraid of," says the sergeant. Little Johnny beats and kicks at the door for hours. Dad tries to comfort mom. "This is what he needs. This man's a professional. He's put balls on hundreds of men, he know what he's doing." Suddenly it gets quiet. After some time passes and it's still quiet the sergeant says "Now he's cured."

The three of them go down and opened the door. In the dim light, Johnny can not be seen. They go in and looked around. The many beams cast eerie shadows over the cobwebbed covered shelves that line the walls. Still no sign of Johnny.

Mom and dad continue looking wile the drill sergeant makes a quick trip to the provisions house to get a strong light. When the sergeant gets back he finds mom and dad out in front of the house, mom is freaking out. "What's going on?" asks the sergeant. Dad looks at him with hate in his eyes and motions him to follow.

Down the stairs they go into the cellar. The strong light reveals what they've found. Dad had moved many of the shelves out away from the walls. Tunnels! Behind each shelf is a tunnel. Nemours tunnels leading to and from the house.

The drill sergeant assembles a band of recruits and an extensive search is made. The tunnels make up a huge network that leads to every cellar in the village. Tunnels even lead to the cemetery and the crypts. Little Johnny is never found or seen again.

There was once a great settler who wanted to start a school and a village. He realized that he didn't have a enough pumpkins to buy a school. In his mind he knew he would have to raise pumpkin fields, but this settler was too lazy. He didn't want to go through back breaking work of picking up pumpkins and the economy was in recession. The only last option he thought would be to buy and trade pumpkins. Though in his mind he wanted to have many hard working settlers improve the empire. He forced the leader umpert4 to send his generals to fight the Witch of the swamp to get the loot to buy a pumpkin patch and pumpkins. So he immediately signed up to be a soldier in the Barracks. The army entered the portal with the generals to battle the Witch of the Swamp. But on the way the grim reaper stopped them. The figure moved and caused darkness to fall throughout the portal. He raised a dead arm and wielded an axe and killed the leading general. It said" what is the point of fighting if you are only to lose?". He then wielded his axe and made the army vanish. The next minute the poor soldier settler was tied up and the dark priests all around him cursed the soldier for all eternity. The next minute they vanished him and sent him back to his empire. Many of his other friends thought that he was the only survivor. He was named a hero throughout the empire. And he was granted a school by selling every last thing they had to get a school for this soldier settler. As soon as the settler went to his school, he hallucinated by seeing the grim reaper and his priests torture him and saying "all that lived will so be dead and with that the soldier was decaying and he mutilated himself to be rotten as a zombie. Many of those settler students were forced into becoming a zombie for biting them. The good settlers were frightful as the zombie settlers rose from the school. The ruler umpert4 ordered the zombies to be stopped and destroyed while the new school must be demolished. Then the sun came out and roasted many zombies. As many people thought, the zombies were gone. But the school still remains and settlers that come in, never come out. At night, they walk out of the school and into the open world still. Umpert4 saw this as many settlers were disappearing at night mysteriously. He used a sun buff at night that made them get roasted. But still some survived. Ever since then, the zombies were forced to serve the settlers for 12 hrs (hence the zombie buff). The zombies even though they are serving, are waiting and are planning.

Wheat fields lost on alcoholic beer
Pinewood forests vanish in coal plants
Gloomy music makes it very clear
That economy is seeing slow end.

It's the time to send Grim Reaper out
And to loot adjacent bandit camps.
Let these bandits see what's it about
Let pit their Victors with our champs.

Hundreds dead, but budget goals are met
Storage houses are filling once again
Spreading Liberty and Freedom ain't half-bad
And it real life it works the same.

Halloween is rather state of mind
Than a pumpkin field for extra buffs.
Even though holidays retire
They continue to live in us.

All the Traitors, Outlaws, Knights and Witches
Teach us in realm of Settlers Online
That we don't require excusing speeches
When our mind's set for Pumpkin time!

Samhein post 1 Chapter One

My name is Samhein and I began my life as no more then the child of farmers in a
small village. There was little there but the fields and the mills but in the
distance we could see the houses of the nobles and it had been known to whet an
appetite for adventure in many more then me. Some came back even to own a farm
instead of being mere tenant farmers like my family. We only 'rented' the farm,
living off less then a quarter of it, and the rest of the harvest went back to
the rich owners. Oh how I envied them and it obsessed me until finally I was
fourteen and old enough to enlist.

Life as a mere recruit might seem like nothing to many of you. But I had my
first shoes ever in my life. Farmers usually made due with sandals in the
warmth and in the cold, we had roomier calf high sandals that allowed us to
wrap our legs in rags and tie them about with the leather ties. As a recruit
we had what would be considered ankle boots but they were far better then my
old rags had been. Unlike some of the other recruits lured in from drinking
brew in the tavern, I was there sober the first day I was old enough to enlist.

It was odd to wear a set of clothes that were all new and unpatched too. We
usually might have a new garment made to replace on that had fallen completely
apart, but the rest were in various stages of use and much patched. As farmers
we could not be 'armed' either, though we could have a knife and many of them
were nearly as long as my brand new bronze sword. Still a sword was much
superior to a knife and I felt braver and older with my sword at my side. I
fell in with some other farm boys much like myself and thought myself to be the
king of the world.

Our first forays into battle were with bandits as inexperienced as ourselves
that took up refuge in the farther sectors. Being lucky was the best value
in the first fights until one learned a thing or too. Our drills had perhaps
prepared us a little, but it was one thing to strike a straw man with your
sword and another to fight a raving drunk bandit. I was lucky enough to
survive and first and then smart enough to make use of my lessons. It was
perhaps dangerous seeming to some but a farmers life was not safe as outsiders
might think. Accidents with the sickles in harvest were the worst but one
could often step on a rusty piece of farm equipment or even be savaged by
the pigs.

We were soon back in town with not just our prize money but whatever we had
looted from the bandits. I had even acquired a slightly better pair of boots
that were calf high, though not freestanding as the expensive ones. It still
needed lacing to stay up although it had been well rubbed with fat and shed
water quite well. I had also acquired a leather helmet and a nice water
bag that since we were in town, was filled with brew and not water. Unlike
some I did not go drunk into battle which probably accounted more then anything
else for my continued survival so far.

Flush with prize money we opted to spend our time in town in a room at the
tavern instead of the barracks. There were many such with sets of double
high beds and warm hearth. Four of us went together and got the room and
enjoyed a bit of drinking and boasting at the table next. Since my da had
made his own beer as well I had a harder head then most of the fellows and
sat at the table happily regarding my fortunate affairs as the other three
stumbled to their beds and began to snore. I added some coal to the fire
and then I truly thought myself drunk when I began to hear a high toned
whisper from the fire.

"Beware" it whispered in a voice that sounded like it was in pain. "If you
go unshriven in death, never shall you rest."

I looked around to see which of my friends might be playing a game with me but
they all seemed solidly asleep. More to myself then to anyone else I whispered,
"Even if we are put into a mass grave and burned the priests say the prayers
over us and we can then rest."

The voice, still seeming to come from the coal fire seemed amused, in a painful
sort of way. "Do not trust them in that," it said. "Your leaders are nefarious
in many ways. Beware yourself and keep watch lest you end an unshriven ghost
as is my fate."

I could neither find a friend awake or even possibly formulate an answer so I
simply assumed I was half asleep, half drunk and dreaming. So I took myself
off to the last bunk and it being a nice warm room unlike our drafty barracks
I found myself asleep at once. Only a few strange nightmares haunted me and
they were not bad and when I woke I convinced myself that I had imagined the
whole thing. Indeed we were to be in town for a few more days and for the
next two days the fire did not speak to me at all. A circumstance which I
regarded with happiness for I did not want to think I was going mad.

It was on the third night next that Swooper put coal on the dying fire, the
two of us being the last awake. And again I heard a voice from the fire, though
subtley different from the last. "Take heed," it whispered. "If you go unshriven
to the grave never shall you rest."

Immediately I knew Swooper had heard it for he rounded on me and told me sternly
to stop playing tricks.

"I've done nothing," I protested instantly. "But tell me, did you hear the voice
too?"

It took some time to convince Swooper that I had not made the voice appear to
be coming from the fire by some trick of throwing my voice. Finally I convinced
him that though a town sharp might know such things I was nothing but a farmers
boy. In truth though I actually wished that I might have done the voice for it
was blood curdling thought that the fire should be talking to us. And for all
our gaiety in town it was true that all of us knew that our next mission might
mean our deaths.

It was fortunate that Swooper was much needle-witted and he experimented
putting more coal on the fire. And the voice did then reappear telling us to
beware what followed after our deaths and to be sure a priest might be on hand
to send our souls over to where they were supposed to go. That was bad enough
though a few more drinks gave us enough courage to go on. Again it was Tom's
idea and we dumped the rest of that coal in the corner and then paid the boot
boy to bring us a new batch.

We knew not what they might make of the pile of coal in the corner when we
checked out, but we did not much care. Many such groups such as we broke even
the bunk beds fighting drunk and in comparison we were leaving the place quite
tidy. Though I admit I waiting until no one was watching and took a few pieces
of the coal, wrapping them up in an old rag and putting them at the bottom of
my pack.

There was not much to do since we were moving out in the morning and I dared not
question just anyone about the voices in the coal. At best they would think me
drunk, or perhaps put me in the bedlam house, and possibly thorw me out of the
regiment. I admit that any thing seemed better then to go home and tell them
I could not do my job. Though thinking of home did put me in mind of our priest
back at the farms.

Reverend DXTed was a right man who had always been truthful with us, even when
it went against his safest course. He was always ready to come and face the
worst problems, even when woken in the middle of the night to the news someone
lay now in their deathbed and needed the rituals of the dead to lay their soul
to rest. I knew I could ask him about the voice in the coal, but it would have
to wait until we came home again, if I came home.

It was my last battle on our island that caused me the greatest worry. Cavalry,
very expensive troops and usually of higher estate for they must bring their
own horses were thrown at Mary with no regard. Indeed I heard some of the officers
laughing at what they assumed was their privacy at knowing the whole of the
cavalry would be killed. It was the easy way of them that chilled me to the bone,
never even a pretense that they regretted the losing of so many lives.

My first real suspicions came right on the heels of this. For we commonly dug
graves for about ten men a piece, for it was not so easy to dig a grave for 200
or so. And true I saw the priests saying the rituals over the graves as should
be done, but as I counted the graves it seemed there were too few to account for
even the lost cavalry. In fact I believed I owned my own survival solely to
picking up the iron sword of a dead militia man, and the rest of his better gear
for almost none of us recruits were left after the battle.

In fact if the losses were not so high amongst us all I would never have been
able to 'promote myself' as I had for nearly all the militia were dead as well.
They would have been the ones to know my now dead benefactor but there was no
one left to demur at my assuming his identity and better pay grade. Still I
was very worried at what I saw and I was anxious to get home. Fortunately the
armies were so depleted by the last battle of Tree-Mary that we were given
a few weeks of leave and permission to visit our families. I could not have
been happier.

Chapter Two

My little sisters were so happy to see me they hung about my neck and shoulders
like wolves bringing down prey. I might have been brought down had my Ma not
interceded and chased them off that she might hug me herself. Even Pa
unbent and hugged me strongly and I was treated to more ceremony that I had known
we might put together. My family had seemed somewhat cold when I left but
now I perceived it might have been fear that made them draw back as I left. Fear
that they should never see their son again. And how very near it had come to
that it was true.

Not only did Pa uncork his latest barrel of brew, but one of the older of our
sows children was turned into a nice roast and besides the bread we grew
there were tubers and mushrooms from the forest and cheeses from the goats.
Truly I had no realized my family thought so much of me as to deserve a
welcome such as I got. Even my older brothers who were wont to ignore me as
the youngest, clapped me on the back and made me welcome as an equal at last.
I would have been perfectly happy but for the mystery of the coal.

Although I had arrived late, too late for travel amongst my class where candles
were thought to be expensive, much less oil for lanterns. But after a goodly
time for breakfast our good cleric, DXTed arrived to welcome me home. Of
course Ma insisted on making some more food, and truly we had ham a plenty
from the suckling pig and still plenty left over from last nights dinner. It was
a family affair for a bit and long before I could talk to DXTed without the
others hearing.

When I began my story his face looked sceptical but when I told him of the
second time the coal spoke he began to look grim.

"Where?" I asked him, does the coal come from?"

"Mostly from the mines from the north and east," DXTed told me. "But there
is another source," he said hesitatingly.

"What other source?" I asked him, never having heard of such a thing.

"There are these great workhouses called 'recyclers'," the older cleric told
me slowly. "They make coal, well, its absurd of course, but its said they
make it out of nothing."

A farmers boy had no use for the silliness of townies. "You can't make
something out of nothing," I told him stoutly.

"That is what makes me think that what they do make it out of is something
they do not want known," DXTed told me. "But I am cast into dread at what
you tell me. For we allow all spirits to go to the great BlueByte for
sorting. To stop a soul from seeking this end is an atrocity past thinking
of. True some criminals are so bad they are exiled in life, rapists, murders,
and even those who seek to trade in help chat!" he exclaimed. "But they
must all all go to BlueByte in the end," he insisted, his voice shaky.

Finally I told him of the coal that I had and with excuses to my Ma and Pa
we went off to where his humble abode was. I am not sure what I feared
the most, that the coal would speak or that it would not. Safely ensconced
in DXTed's humble cottage he brought out a brazier of the type meant to warm
the corners of a room which lacked a good fireplace.

Into this I laid out the coal from the bottom of my pack and we then used
some old adventure maps for kindling marked by the name 'Sons of the Veldt'.
As the coal began to take the flame we heard first a long sigh and then
finally some words.

"Oh unhappy spirit am I. For no criminal am I but an honest recruit and now
unshriven I can not seek the peace of Blue Byte but linger in torment here
on this lonely earth."

DXTed blanched at this confirmation of the atrocity and he rapidly brought
out the sacred oil and pouring it on the coal he said the prayers for the dead,
so familiar I could almost repeat them myself. The fire flared up, so much
later then expected from the oil and then we heard a stronger voice.

"Oh happiness and thanks," the voice said. "I see my way to the great peace now.
No more must I haunt the dark places of the night. Now I will rest with my
anscesters. Only be careful that my previous state does not become yours," it
said, and then with an almost exultant breath it said "Home, at last, blessed
home."

It took us a bit of brew to be able to do anything but shiver after this. As
blood began again to move in my body I asked DXTed that if he could perform
the rituals on the coal, that could they not have shriven the coal?"

"My boy," DXTed said. "Look at the brazier."

I looked and immediately saw the coal was out. In fact there was no warmth
there at all and nothing but the dusty powder of burnt coal remained although
there had been no time to burn it all.

"Impossible," I murmured, hoping to myself that I might be right.

"All too possible," DXTed told me. "They need coal to make swords for the
armies to fight. In a way its the most precious thing for the war
effort."

"But how might they make coal out of men's souls?" I asked him.

"I do not think they mean to," DXTed told me. "I have heard rumors that well,
before today I thought were nonsense. But I think they make the coal out
of their bodies and trapping the souls is just an accident. But they will
not then make the rituals for the dead because you see it makes the coal
burn out in moments. And the most dreadful thing is that I do not think
I can completely trust the other BBs, the reverands, with this information.
I fear that some of them must know what they are about."

I nodded only for it was my instincts that made me tell no one but my
families own cleric for the telling of this tale. "They must notice on
the battlefields that there are too few graves for the casualities to be
buried in."

"They might be constrained," DXTed told me. "If they were to 'notice', they
would be sent to the recyclers and could no more do the rituals for the
dead that they can now. Some is always better then none."

"But we are only guessing," I pointed out. "How could I find out?"

"I only know that the recyclers are to the north and west of the Mayors
township. The great place where the noble houses and the provision
house is. In fact the barracks are there so you must have passed
through."

"Passed through is putting it mildly," I told him. "We are sent to the
barracks and while training there, can not leave. Though I do remember
seeing the Mayor's fine mansion there. And its dark as night away
from the houses of the rich. I daresay if I were to dress in dark
clothing I could walk up to them and they would never be aware."

"I wish I could do more," DXTed told me. "It is a terrible risk but if
you were to return and tell me what you saw it may be that I can do
something about the situation. So far all we have is guess work."

"I dont even know how it was that we found the coal. I would have
thought people had heard it before and they would use it only to make
swords and not to heat the inn."

"I suspect they mixed up some of the batches," DXTed admitted. "If
not then many more would have heard the voices of the uneasy dead and
they could not keep it secret."

"It makes me think twice to go back into battle," I told him. "All men
must in time die, but to risk my soul, that is worrysome."

"If you tried to desert though they would hunt you down," DXTed told
me.

"They didn't notice when I made myself militia," I pointed out.

"But you kept your name," DXTed toldme. "Most likely they simply
assumed that you had received a battlefield promotion but the officer
that did it died before writing the papers."

"This is a dark thing," I said bitterly. "I meant only to fight for
our island and not risk my immortal soul."

"You would think they would be grateful," DXTed said. "But the nobles
are not the same as you and I. Beware them always for they do not
either think or feel as plain folk like we do."

"I'll keep an eye on things," I vowed to him. "I will make sure I
get back to you with the information. And to think that finally I
wish that I could read and write."

"Just as well," DXTed told me. "If I were to recieve a letter, well
I think it would draw attention."

"But surely you receive some from the temple?"

"Few," DXTed admitted. "And its obvious when its a temple message.
They use a special paper and a special seal that allows them to not
pay for the postage."

All too soon I was taken back to service for their was an uprising on
an island where some Traitors held the island for their own. Fortunately
I survived that one. And I saw nothing suspicious until the last
battle against the cannon. Then we had many casualties and then I
noticed again that the number of graves was too few.

Before I could make sure of anything else we were called back for
emergency service. Some fool on the island had placed too many wells
in one area instead of spreading them about and had caused the area
to sink and become swampy. I could not believe my good fortune for
the area I was told to scout for swampy leakage was the exact area
where the recyclers were to be found.

The first thing that made me suspicious was basically nothing. The
had three recyclers but during the long days nothing at all was
loaded into them. And there were loading bays, so I knew that it
must be that they would only load them a night, in secret. And no
one would pay the extra wages for labor at night and the extra oil
lamps unless they had very good reason.

I found myself in a quandry. I might go appearing to be drunk and
no one to pay me attention even if they saw me. Or so I hoped at
least. Or if I dressed all in dark colors I would be much less
likely to be seen but if seen it would be obvious I was trying to
do something I should not want to be seen at. I was brave enough
in the ordinary way to risk my life, but to risk my soul, it was
another thing entirely.

I finally dressed in dark clothing and went out after dark to where
I could see the recyclers. I hoped that I would find out that there
was nothing wrong. Better that I be mad then that they were truely
dealing in men's souls. But after many hours of waiting which I
took on hiding in the eaves of a building I did see the wagons draw
up at the recyclers. Wagons that I could smell before I saw them
clearly, for they obviously were filled with the dead.

Chapter Three

I made my way home on shakey legs that would have been better
coordinated had I indeed been drunk. The whole picture was making
itself clear to me. The workers spoke no language I had ever
heard and obviously were used to keep their secret from such as
I. I drank deeply of brew that night but still I slept poorly
and full of nightmares that I was being placed into the recyclers
alive that when I woke I was barely able to move.

To my horror a messenger showed up and gave me an order that my
sergeant had need of me. I barely was able to put on my uniform
while congratulating myself that at least I had removed the dark
smudges on my face before falling into bed. I was torn if I
should flee now, and only the fact that I had nowhere to flee
allowed me to show up and see what they wanted of me.

To my surprise they appeared to know nothing but were instead
promoting me to 'soldier' with the presentation of the coveted
steel sword. I could find no reason for duplicity for it would
have been the easiest thing to have me killed alone in my room.
They told me that we were pulling out immediately to go find a
Witch of the Swamp and I was so happy to be removed from my
current location I was less worried about the distant future
then the immediate present.

I made it through the attack on the Witch of the Swamp. I was
wounded in the arm, and though it was not serious I had a terrible
fever from it and nightmares of the recyclers. It was only the
pain of my wound that I felt all the way through my sleep that
told me that I was alive. But once I got over the fever I
swiftly mended and was ready to be shipped off again.


And then they shipped us off with little rest to Dark Priests. It
made me shudder that the names of the attacks were all spooky
kind of names. It made me ever remembering the recyclers and that
I might lose not just my life but my immortal soul. I had found
no way to let DXTed know of what I found or that he might come to
my aid if something went wrong.

The battle did not go my way this time. I was set upon by three
enemy soldiers and felt a pain in the back of my head and then,
nothing. I awoke, thank BlueByte, in a tent. The cleric there
seemed odd, like he was asking me questions that had another
purpose.

"You were raving about the recylcers," he told me. "An odd fancy,
where did you hear it?"

"Oh I don't know," feigning a casual air made all the more easy
by the weakness in my body. "We used tell stories in the half
light as the fireplaces wound down. Frequently I dream of that
guy from Translyvania and the madman that sewed his companion up
and brought him to life.

"That must have been some time ago," the cleric said wit an
odd expression.

"Oh I only dream like that while running a fever," I told him.

Still he seemed very suspicious of me and pasted on a false
smile. He mixed up a solution of the poppy and gave it to
me for the pain. Fool that I was I drained the cup. Those
were my last coherent thoughts. I dreamed somewhat numbly
of a sea voyage back home. Though the smell around me was
terrible, and seemed to grow worse.

I came too briefly and to my horror I barely made out that I
was in a cart filled high with dead people. With dead troops.
I tried to struggle and to call out that I was awake but the
foriengers carting us paid no attention to my barely audible
voice. I passed out again and came to as the cart had stopped.
And right before me was the recycler!

Desperate now I tried to speak, "No I'm not dead, I'm still
alive."

But the cartmen seemed not to care. They never ceased their
chatter and their jokes as they threw each of us into the
loading baby which held a downward sloping chute. There wasn't
even time to pass out when the crushing started. Somehow
the walls of the room moved in on themselves, crushing us, well
most probably, into coal.

I floated in this terrible state for some time and then
strangely enough I felt myself to be a taven room watching
four recruits play cards and drink. It was too late for me
I knw but I hoped to warn them.

"Good recruits," I spoke respectfully. "Do not lose your
souls unshriven into the grave."

The Battle of the Witch written by Everdean

A musky smell filled the air; Lady Everdean couldn’t think of another way to describe it, other then earthy with an undertone of something bitter or maybe sour. Like the smell of life rotting; draining away, maybe from the lack of sun in the dark Swamp. She wondered what it was that made the sun so rarely shine over the Swamp; she had always been told that the Witch had cast a spell here to keep the Swamp under a constant shroud of darkness. This was not the type of adventure a young woman such as herself should be braving alone, but even though she felt like she was; she was not alone.

They stood now at the base of the mountains, uncertain if she should continue and lead her small group of followers into what could surely mean death for some of them. Sir Mesto interrupted her thoughts by clearing his throat; though he was several feet behind her it gave her chills. He was a warrior, someone who belonged here in the face of danger. Like Sir Nayton, who stood several feet to his left, the two men looked awkward standing next to each other. Each of them trying to keep as far away from the other as possible but still attempting to appear as allies. That was what it was like with officers from ally guilds, neither one them was there for the same reason, but least they were there. She waved the men forward; she knew stalling any longer would create doubt among the ranks and the last thing she needed was less help. Both men shouted a series of commands to the troops behind them as she mounted her horse and prepared to enter what could already be a hopeless cause.

There feet made little to no sound as they pushed there way thought the trees. The moss cushioned their footsteps, and Everdean smiled inwardly; this could be of great advantage to them. The Swamp was alive with sound; the hum of insect wings and water splashing as unknown creatures dove under the oil-like ponds and on occasion the sound of crows calling for each other. The humidity was horrid making loose hair cling to the side of her face inside her helmet, even though it was tied in a long dark braid down her back. As they rode, the smell of rotting became stronger and the more bearable earthy smell seemed to fade away until it was gone completely.

In her mind she thanked the enemy troops. Had they not been so carless about hiding there tracks in the mud, and broken so many branches on there way back to the Tower, her and her troops could have easily gotten lost here. She only hoped it would save them enough time to make a difference, to save there beloved guild leader Lord Uthren. The other knights, Sir Lehabim and Sir Pavy had immediately left to go after the bandits that had ambushed Lord Uthren on his way back to Catan. That had left Sir Mesto and herself the two remaining knights of Catan; to gather troops and allies. All they had been able to find was the settlers of Catan a small army and Sir Nayton who had brought troops from Olympia.

She had just broken formation to check on the well being of troops as a blood curtailing scream rose from the ranks and the sound of war and blades clashing began. She dug in her heels to make her horse move faster, somehow it didn’t seem fast enough. She could feel the other Knights on her flanks as the screams continued. It was that moment she realized they had so carelessly walked right next to there first enemy camp. Brown hooded figures were fleeing toward her, she let out a sigh, there troops could fight! And fight well it seemed. She unsheathed her sword longing for her bow but knowing against the cultists it would be useless.

The first opponent moved toward her, the being was featureless in the brown robe, apart from his missing eyes. He has no eyes only black pit’s where his eyes should have been. His sword was drawn and swinging toward her but she was faster as her blade plunged through his flesh until its hilt hit it body, she was expecting the feel of warm blood around her hands, but there was no blood just black sand that poured from the wound until the being vanished. She turned just in time to see another being coming at her. Everdean ducked down off her horse just in time, and lifted her head to see as Sir Mesto who was now ahead of her as he raised his sword to behead the creature, whose head fell to the ground, as the body continued to run.

Sir Nayton, along with Sir Mesto had accounted for all the troops as the commotion calmed. There had been no time for recuperation not with Lord Uthren’s fate unknown and hanging in the balance. Everdean did not know how much time they would have, would it be days, hours or was he already lost. Mesto and Nayton had now taken the lead, she needed to regain control. She should have been more aware, she shouldn’t have been intercepted, but this was after all her first adventure. She shouldn’t be so hard on herself or that’s what Mesto kept telling her, his concern was admirable.

Sir Nayton had slowed and started talking to her, she would ask a mindless question every now any then to keep his company, like why DEI was inscribed on there troops armour and he explained that DEI is Latin for gods. They were more prepared approaching the second Camp; again it was the hooded cultists and again the managed to fight there way though without loosing a soul. Everdean worried they would not continue to be so lucky. Behind them she could hear Wonko, murmuring about the Cultists and the Witch clearly afraid of what she might do to him. “Uthren is probably soup by this point, the Witch is probably using his bones to pick her teeth” at that Everdean did not slow to reply with “They are only a few hours a head of us, they probably haven’t made it to the tower yet”.

The battles raged on as they fought there way closer to the Witches Tower, they had lost over two hundred men before they reached the stone wall and pillars that marked the entrance to the Tower. Everdean couldn’t help but let her mind wander over the lives of the lost. Smendy had one of the first to go, He had lived in the same village as her, and would wave as the passed each other on there way to the market or wells; Freakesy who had made it to the last camp and met his end against a Shadow sneaker; he never called her by her name alone, he always added darling or delightful to it and he loved everyone enough to freely offer sloppy wet kisses; and Sir Nayton who had sacrificed himself to a camp as a diversion to let the rest of them continue on. She pushed away the thoughts, she was here for a reason, to save Lord Uthren, and she wondered what he would say if he were here now, would he think they were foolish for allowing so many to die in his place. She did not know.

Though all the battles had been hard won she had hated the Shadow sneakers the most, with there black skin and featureless faces, they moved swift like smoke amongst the shadows of the swamp. She could vaguely hear the others talking about the Dark Priest’s and even the Dark High Priest they had just defeated, she wondered if they should all perish at the hands of the Witch. She looked up at the gate now, tired and with a heavy weight on her mind, from those lost. She turned her gaze to Sir Mesto, and realized she had yet to see the knight show emotion since his battle with the Dark High Priest, he had been only slightly injured, no worse then the injuries she herself wore. He seemed somehow distant, eager to push forward into the tower. Without saying a word they followed the path. How anyone could live here was beyond Everdean’s imagination, all the darkness covering the swamp seemed to emanate from the Witch Tower. It had been a day in this dark wasteland and it had made her miss home, the cobble stone streets and wheat fields, she longed for the sight of Catan, for fishing and the sound of the excitement when the explorers found new treasures.

They were at the base of the Tower, and before them the haze cleared and the sun peaked though just enough to see a woman.

Not a hideous woman either, her beauty made Everdeans skin crawl. Everdean reached for him but she was not fast enough, Sir Mesto had walked toward her, got down on one knee and kissed her hand. The shock struck Everdean and she went to stop him as he and the woman vanished and in there place the last line of defence came out of the Tower.

Just as Everdean began to lose hope after watching the Witch take Sir Mesto under enchantment, Sir Pavy and Sir Lehabim emerged from the tress to join in on the final battle. With hope regained Everdean unsheathed her sword and the battle began. Blades crashed all around her with the cries of the injured. She was unaware of how many she killed, but she knew the numbers were great, twisting, and spinning as her blade gutted the Dark Priests and Cultists that came into her path. Until finally the shouts of victory could be heard as the last of the Witches defence met its end. Without a second thought she raced toward the steps of the Tower, climbing them with such force the victory shouts faded in the distance. She was not sure if the men were following her or not, all she knew was that there was no time for celebration.

A light appeared at the top of the stairs.

Everdean slowed now as she crept to the opening. What she saw as she peeked through the door, was Sir Mesto obviously under a spell holding his sword to Lord Uthrens throat. He moved to swing his blade and she leaped.

Sir Pavy with Sir Leahabim at his side approached the light at top of the stairs; the Witch’s Tower steps had the same curve to them as the stair’s back home in the White Castle of Catan. It had made the climb easier, he had climbed the stair of the Castle many times it felt natural now. It had not taken long for them to break free of the celebrating soldiers, only a few moments for them to realize Everdean was already gone.

A woman’s scream rose from the top of the Tower echoing down the spiral stairs and both himself and Lehabim picked up there pace. It was not any scream. This was Everdean’s scream, and not the one she would accidently let out while she was being tickled. They flew through the opening to find, Everdean attempting to fight off Sir Mesto, a long gash ran across her shoulder and her blood quickly changing the color of her clothing under the awkward fitting armour. Lehabim went to her aid as he turned on the Witch, her figure was laughing at the scene unfolding before them as she watched in amusement the knights fighting one of there own. She did not notice his blade until it was too late. Her beautiful form wilted and withered as the black sand drained and turned into a emerald blood, her body staged and as she fell toward the weight of her injury and the last of her beauty faded to show her true form. The hideous beast she truly was.

Prologue

Everdean raced across the wheat field’s at top speed, her breath staggered under he laughter, as she stumbled into the flowered clearing beyond the cobblestone streets. Sir Nayton close on her heels, a small scream escaped her lips as he tickled her ribs once again. She had been relieved to find that he had survived, even more relieved when the enchantment on Sir Mesto faded over time. It hadn't taken long for all to return to normal after the knights of Catan and all those beloved to them still remaining returned home.

Quote:

---

Next to a battle lost, the greatest misery is a battle won.

---

-Duke of Wellington

Darkness and death, rotting flesh dripping from bones being bleached in the sun, unholy sacrifices mark the return of Halloween. Slowly murmured incantations, hexes gaining intensity; chants droning to an ear piercing wail. The earth quakes, fissures crack the land; red tongues of lava flow up from the depths. Acrid smoke churns and billows swirling faster and faster in a tight circle. A horrendous thunderclap drowns out all the voices and spells. Anxious eyes watch the swirling vortex before them and fall to their knees as demonic red eyes pierce them to their very soul. The Grim Reaper has cometh, his steed is as skeletal as he, sulfurous smoke taints the air with every exhalation of his midnight death horse. The new Lord of the island has come, at what price is yet to be known.

DARKNESS and LIGHT

Twas Halloween Time for we Settlers on Line

When the fun it did rightly begin!
Darkness spread o'er the land
And with pumpkins in hand
To the graves of past kin
Settlers ran a visitin'
They made spells of light
To spread bright through the night
And the Darkness dared not come again!

Then some pesky settlers started to going on Line,

They searched for a spell all through the night
A darkness so dark it would shut out the light
Was soon found to continue the fun!
Provision Houses were now overrun
Making a light ever so bright to cut through the night.
Spells were passed on of both darkness and light
To those in their friendship who wanted to garner
The extra strong light for four times the larder.

Success brought such riches that all were just fine!

THE HAUNTING OF THE TRADE OFFICE

The screams keep coming. The sound of horror and pain fill the night sky as the moon shines blissfully unaware of what lurks in the shadows. Blood splatters on the walls as the insanity progresses in the halls of the once thriving office. It pools under the marble tiles on the stairs. It drips from the chandeliers once so majestic. The days of prosperity are now full of deceit and corruption from the bowels of society. Evil has taken hold of the trade business with the ghost of Wild Mary at the helm.

People once walked the halls in hope of equal trades for goods they spent their entire lives building for a comfortable life they had not known before. This was a time when greed was kept in an unopened box and the men were given the opportunity to fight or to work. The workers toiled for the island with a purpose. The power gained by their devotion would improve the lives of all settlers. The ones who chose to fight gave their lives willingly in an effort to bring peace to the region and to beat back the evil surrounding them.

For years, the struggles between good and evil were fairly matched until the curse of All Hallows Eve came. Nothing could have prepared them for what came next. The sky turned black and buildings turned green with skeletons arising from the ashes. Cauldrons of witches' brew rose in curls of black smoke to permeate the air and choke the forests with a poisonous blanket of doom and despair. The once beautiful islands became burned shells in the ocean where no man could survive. No men would try.

The ghost of Wild Mary with wood aflame crowning his head bore a resemblance to mighty kings with diamond and jeweled septors raised. Wild Mary dubbed his army of rogue soldiers, who sold their souls for a promise of riches, the Trade Tabbers. Their work is done. Trade is no more.




http://i1324.photobucket.com/albums/...ps39624d40.jpg

Death Where Art Thou
The crowd chants "Greaper! Greaper!". Thats their name for me. I am Tom Shanks and my life changed forever 9 months ago. I was on the HMS Settlers, a deckhand. I did what I was told - scrub the deck, make bread, shovel coal, sharpen swords - yessir thankyousir. We were headed to Pirates' Island to trade gold, gems & swords for recruits to her majesty's army. A tame affair, or so I thought. On the 14th night of our journey just before landfall, the heavens opened up and the ocean ate us whole. The next morning, half dead, I found myself facedown on the beaches of what I would later come to know as Pumpkin Island. I raised my head and was greeted with sand in my face from a weathered boot. My ordeal had just begun.

My fellow survivors and I had been captured by the fearsome Mary and his bandits. I was enslaved, made to work tilling the ground, watering and growing pumpkins - always under the eyes of the rangers and their dogs. They said that was what kept Mary alive & powerful. I believed it too. These were no ordinary pumpkins, nosir. The memory of those vile things still makes me retch. At night, we were the entertainment for the roughnecks - shoved around, made to fight each other and if they were feeling cheerful, used as target practices. This went on for many weeks, though it felt like years.

One night, when everyone was drunk & merry and didn't give a hoot, I sneaked away into the pinewood forest nearby. There, I met other escapees. They took me to see their leader - the SortaMayor. They came from a different part of the island where they had set up a peaceful society away from the stench of the Halftree - their name for Mary.

They told me of a druid that could use pumpkins for our benefit. He had found a way to make a pumpkin potion that would make one invincible. They had stolen pumpkins and now grew them in their village. Some grew faster than others. The druid had even concocted a potion of fish, bread & deer meat that made them grow faster. They had been waiting for all the pumpkins to grow and I had arrived just in time for the harvest. They took it as a sign that I was to lead the battle. They had been training armies to take on the fierce might of Mary, but they needed a leader.

On the fateful day, I was given the potion. I knew instantly why no one else had volunteered. Every bone in my body creaked. Every fiber of my body screamed. Once I came to, I had transformed into this ghastly thing. I didn't feel any pain, but then I didn't feel human. My army was ready. At night, I led the charge. By dawn, the island was ours. It was rid of the terrible scourge. Yet, my life will never be the same. I'll never be human again. I am now half-man half-death - the Greaper.

Life Obscured

'Twas very chilly
When the sun went down
Then The Settlers rolled in
Grasping and gripping
In their eternal blanket.

All becomes still
Sight abandons
Hearing becomes acute
Confusing newborns
Scaring adults
Destroying thought
Light is irrelevant
Darkness complete
They meet.

The winds they howl
The mist hides from all
The Settlers
Sound is distorted
Then I hear it
Like the beating of drums
Or a tolling bell
It turns my backbone yellow
My hair stands on end
There comes a scream
Through time immortal.

Suddenly there comes a noise
Footsteps from hell
Begin bearing down upon me
There is no escape
I slowly turn around
My eyes open in horror
As I assess the impossibility
The absurdity
Of The Settlers being there.

As insanity creeps towards me
A raspy breath, disrupted by the fog,
Invades my ears

Searching the fog
With eyes and ears
Trying to find its origin
I trip and fall
Looking over at the cause
Nausea sweeps through me
The remains of a settlers body
Stares back at me
I scream
Like time tearing.

Out of the corner of my eye
I catch a glimpse
Of a shadow wisping by
Rising
I run after it
After what seems to be hours
I finally stop giving chase
Sinking to the ground
A moan escapes my lips
Followed by words
Please help me.

Again the shade of something
Hovers just beyond
My ability to visualize it
This time I slowly walk
Towards the apparition
And it remains where it is
As eyes focus on the reality
My mind understands the threat
I turn to run
Claws rip through my back
I fall to the ground
Immobilized.

Mist lifts
Thunderclouds disperse
And pre-dawn light
Encompasses the area
A body lies upon the docks

Snapping awake
Sweat covering my body
My mind finally accepts
That the situation was a dream
Rising
I go to the window
Opening the window
A stiff breeze stirs the curtains
Fog drifts into the room
Thunder cascades across the land
And a Settler moves
Towards my open window.

The fabric of time
Is torn asunder
Dreams become reality
Horrors become possibilities

And a scream fills the night.

Wiping the dirt off her face and pants, PrincessMarri looked up at the mansion—a massive granite and wood structure that was once owned by the richest man in all the kingdom. Now it was creepy.. and haunted! Cobwebs hung from the roof and support beams. The granite walls seemed slimy with mold and the paths leading around the house were overgrown with weeds.

A moment of panic. She turned back to check on her friends, but saw nothing but the soft glow of the moon on an empty field. It was oddly serene and peaceful.

"One minute. That's it," she muttered turning back to the old house.

With each step the wooden porch creaked as she moved closer to grand entrance. The large iron doorhandle was formed in the shape of a lion. Awkward. She pushed. No movement. She pushed harder. A slight squeak. She paced back one step and put her whole force against the door. VOILA! Dust flew everywhere as she fell into the center of the room. The door, as if being pulled by gravity, slammed shut behind her.

She jumped up and looked around. As the dust settled, she began to hear movements around her.. as if a hundred eyes were looking at her. A tear started forming in her eye. She ran to the front door. It didn't budge. She flipped around only to feel the whole building shake like an angry animal waking from a slumber. Chandeliers swayed back and forth. The earthquake rumbled away, then screams.. two distinct voices, closer than before!

"AHHHhghhghhh!!!"

Suddenly, a flash of green light came from the second floor. The eyes closed in.. there was no way out. Without thinking, she moved closer to the stairs. One step. Two step. Third step broken, stretch. Forth. She began to hear muffled voices.. whispers.. ghosts? The most foul stench filled the air—worse than her brother coming back from spending all day at the fishery! It nearly knocked her out. Plugging her nose she continued on as the voices became clearer..

"I'm going.. kill you, seriously, one of ..days!"
"You'll .. before that happens!"
".. or I'll hit you so hard you .. to stand up!"

At the top of the stairs, a large window let in just enough moonlight to see a large room with furniture covered in dusty plastic. At the end of the room two dark figures seemed to be huddling over a third.

"Are we almost done?"
"Almost, a few more spots.."

Entranced as if in a dream, PrincessMarri inched closer. CRUNCH! what did she step on.. She screamed! All three figures were looking right at her. She tried to find her feet and run, but two of them quickly grabbed her by the arms.

"HEEEELLLPP!!" she cried out, "I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE!!"


- to be continued -

To the Settler who works, on this all Hallows Eve,
Beware the Reaper, for souls he does thieve,
As darkness comes, to silence one and all,
During these times of times, this Halloween fall,
Though do not fret, for the light shall come,
Buff my friend, to once again see the sun.

Eliot was excited, his big day was coming. The pumpkin patches had been planted, he could see them growing already.

Rumor was there would be a new general showing up. The farmers were eagerly awaiting word of silos. Even the other kids dreamed of being able to go to school and learn a trade, anything to keep from having to join the military.

Not Eliot though, he didn't care about school or farming. He wanted to learn how to shoot the longbow & then find the witch who had cursed him. He could hardly sleep. Over the next several days, he felt the need to check on the pumpkins. Nine patches, one in each of the town's cemeteries. He liked the looks of one of the ones growing ever so slowly in the smallest patch. Already all the gourds had been removed from the patches in the Noble plots. Nearly half were gone from the common patches even.

Late one night, Eliot thought he heard the chittering of bugs. He began to worry. Early the next morning, he crept out of bed. He needed to check on his pumpkin. WAIT! NO! There was no change. Hours and hours had gone by, but none of the remaining patches had changed. It was as if they'd been blighted by a Darkness “Buff.” He snuck into the Mayor's house and stole one of the Strong Light Lanterns. That would have to do the trick, but no, it wouldn't take. The patches hadn't been blighted.

Then, he saw one. A little speck on his favorite squash, as he looked around, he saw more and more. BUGS! He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew it would be coming, any day now, and he'd lose his chance.

He felt light headed, but then...

Eliot was excited, his big day was coming. The pumpkin patches had been planted, he could see them growing already.

Eliot had a sudden foreboding sense of Deja-vu. Then, his worst fear was realized: ROLLBACK!

I was never sure if the big eye and the Mayor were one and the same, but I knew I didn’t trust either of them. The letter I got in the mail this morning wasn’t helping. The mayor was “inviting” me to be part of a new organization. No longer would I waddle around the Island quarrying and carrying huge blocks of marble, but I could be part of a new unit of “special” people to guard the Mayor’s huge house.

I wasn’t sure how seriously I should take this idea. I knew there were old bandits, wandering families and sometimes even our own sons lining up to enter the barracks. I had no idea anyone didn’t like what was going on in there. My buddies struggled in the fields day after day, and hauled water from wells, and kept the big wheels in the mills going so there would be good brew for those barracks. Many more of my friends kept the mines, the smelters and the smittys going to forge endless supplies of weapons.

We all knew there were grave threats to the universe out there. We heard of distant Traitors, far off Outlaws, Vicious characters, even Pirates and Witches. We all loved the peace and quiet of our hearths, knowing these threats were far away.

It was only last week we started counting up the thousands upon thousands of fiery eyed youths following the seemingly aimless meanderings of generals who never seemed to come home again. Oh there were the really well trained and experienced troops who seemed to come and go regularly, but someone counted up hundreds of thousands of faceless, nameless sword carriers who had gone away and never come back. Was this too high a price to be paying for the big eye to have bigger and bigger numbers?

And now this letter seemed to be a hook, like the kind I might use on a fishing trip if I ever got time off. All our fishermen used nets and never knew the relaxation of a day with a pole in the water. Someone was talking of an uprising somewhere. Someone was questioning the normal order of the universe where the line up at the barracks just kept moving short dumpy waddlers in one door and out to oblivion. The Mayor and the big eye were getting worried. Would I organize a defensive force to protect the ultimate powers in the universe from a possible rebellion?

Quickly I threw the letter under a huge block of my quarried marble. If I had to choose sides, I would support my own kind. Short dumpy waddlers of the world unite. This is our time.

In the Shadows of the Dark Castle

On that cold and dreary night
the brave young men knew not their plight

In the shadow of the Dark Castle they stood
longing for their homes and neighborhood

A cold chill filled the air
to make a sound they would not dare

for some this night would be their last
but still they stood, strong and steadfast

The brave young men soon would fight
on that cold and dreary night...

There once was a man named Sir Robin
He stole from the rich without stoppin'
I went to his isle,
and plundered a while:
Granite and exo for upgradin'!!!

Is it bad form to use the word grrr in a Haiku?

Witch of the Swamp, grrr!
Nice rewards, lots of losses
Rest in peace, my cavs.

Ode To A Haunted Island

Alas I awoke to darkness
The light from my isle had fled
Eirie, creepy noises arose
Sounds my Settlers would dread

I raised my head, all fearful
Screaming with the fright
My eyes, my ears, my senses
not grasping what happened that night

The Pumpkin lords had come clashing
to make our lives a hell
I swiftly rode to my guild hall
To ring the warning bell

To arms, To arms I descried
Lady Dennk awake the Guild
We must forge bright lights together
We've pumpkin fields to build

My lady sent riders forth to all
"Prepare! Prepare! Sunset"
Our name might like the evening's blush
But no darkness will it vet

Light up the forge! Plant the field!
Buff your neighbours! Help them all!
Drive back the night! That pumpkin horde!
Our forces shall not fall!

Bravely we toiled and tilled the soil
No break or rest was given
We buffed and traded all we had
To make the brightness driven

Now we all stand, our islands and Guild
Bravely protecting the light
Never to retreat or run in fear
From darkness in the night


Johnthenewf
Sunset Guild
Settlers Online

Twas the night before maintenance, and all through the server,
silence was heard, not even a murmur.
The players were all offline and in bed,
With visions of pumpkins, reapers, stuck in their head.

Tomorrow it happens, tomorrow’s the day
The great Halloween event will be ready for play.
The suspense has been great, the excitement exploding
Now BlueByte just hopes for no troubles while loading.
The test server went well, twas proclaimed a success
With new generals and buildings and fields in excess!

With my coffee mug set, filled to the brim
My 24 hours of playing is about to begin.
My strategy is set, my plans are all made,
My worries and anxieties will soon go fade.
The Semetaries are first, then off to go trade,
The pumpkin market I’ll corner, the groundwork is laid.
The Reaper comes first, the Schoolhouse is next
Then graves and tombs and, then, possibly blue text.

For the questions are coming, questions galore!
“I want fields, I want buffs, I want more, more, MORE!”
Poor MrGrimm, poor meesherbeans,
Do they not know what all of this means?
Gratitude and happiness are not part of a game
Fun stuff and contests and events, they’re all so lame
Players want free stuff, hacks, and what’s more
Actually playing a game like this, what a bore!
Strategy is dumb and thinking just hurts,
We want ease of play, and instant desserts!
Give us our guides, give us our gems,
Give us our codes so we can all win!
The poor little devs, they try oh so much
But in the end, there is nothing as such
Gratitude is lacking, questions are growing,
And great disappointment seems to be flowing.
But I digress in my worries, my sadness and fear,
For the great Halloween event is now so near!

So I sip my Red Bull laced coffee and anxious wait,
Soon the maintenance ends and my joy will be great!
But then, into my mind, a new question arises,
When is the Christmas Event and what are it’s prizes?


alas, sarcasm never wins, but maybe I'll make it onto Katealyst's bulletin board....

One star filled night the settlers were filled with fear, for there was a chill in the air and the wind had a sharp
edge feel on their faces. They were busy working in their fields and factories just as any other night but this
was not like any other night. They heard the howl in the distance and wondered what was that, for the moon
was full and the howl getting louder. They peered out the windows and those in the fields were perplexed for
the howl was very eerie indeed. The night was very spooky for the jack o lanterns were lit throughout the
village and the shadows cast images of ghosts and ghouls that were approaching and all of a sudden there
were Zombies putting buffs on their work yards to make them work harder and produce more. Oh what a night
it was on the settlers island. The night of Halloween will not be forgotten.

We had reached the dock
About one o'clock,
The longest half-hour of our lives

"Recruits to the front!"
Was yelled with a grunt,
We now must be strong to survive

We knew that The Nords
Would combat our hordes,
But we had come to fight!

Destroying their camps
Was simply romance,
Their blood was spilled that night!

We Stole From The Rich
To cure a dark itch,
With a gleam of gold in our eyes

To my heart's delight
I witnessed the sight,
The death of Sir Robin our prize

While healthy and wealthy,
And ready for more

To pillage each village,
Was truly our score!

"To the Pirates Isle!"
Was yelled with a smile,
Our aim was to make each man fall

A quick little war
But not quite a bore,
We ensured to have killed them all!

Off to an Outlaw
(The famous southpaw),
Whose challenge was more than great

In you I'll confide
We took it in stride,
Our lives saved only by fate

To boost our morale
We hopped a canal,
Then ventured towards a Dark Priest

Done storming that land
We left only sand,
And fought as a single beast

Now battered and tattered,
We are not yet bested

We have tried and have died,
But now will be tested

Now onward we travel
Enemies unravel,
Our might is what we shall prove

More troops have come
That fight as one,
To conquer is our behoove

We fight each day
Making our way,
Towards riches beyond belief

With a swing of a sword
Into those we abhorred,
We offered them no relief

With the sun at our backs
And our waves of attacks,
We shall battle onward more

I'm a simple Recruit
And I fight for the loot,
But yearn for my island's shore

One bright day mid Halloween night,
Two dead Settlers boys got up to fight.
Back to back they faced each other,
Drew their swords and shot one another.
The deaf Town Sheriff heard the noise,
Then came and shot them two dead boys.
If you don’t believe this story is true,
Just asked the blind Settler - he saw it too.

The Swamp Witch Project

It was a chilly crisp October morning no different from any other. Woodcutters hacked away at aged pine trees, farmers tended their plentiful fields of golden wheat, fishermen brought in their bounty fresh from the sea. Village life continued within the tiny settlement just as it had for a seemingly endless eternity.

It was just before noon when an explorer returned bringing urgent tidings of foul creatures dwelling in marshland nearby. Hastily the villagers gathered to formulate ways to deal with the newly learned of threat. A decision was reached that they would bear arms, to hopefully eliminate the foes before the chances of victory dwindled. The hordes that lay before them would only inevitably grow stronger and greater in number if left unattended. Three battle hardened men were appointed as generals shortly before departing with newly trained troops. Families prayed their kin would return.

Approaching the explorer’s given location, it became evident their numbers were too small, two generals immediately returned home to bring even more reinforcements. The remaining general and his loyal troops battled their way through seemingly ever greater numbers of enemies, spread around a looming tower that grew nearer with every defeated enemy camp. The swamp was soon coloured crimson. Blood ebbed from the mortally wounded young recruits lying alongside the fallen hideous foes as the carnage continued relentlessly.

Returning generals with their hastily trained units joined the carnage as they drew ever closer to the spire. A wraithlike form suddenly sprang from out of nowhere, bolts of electricity crackling from withered hands, piercing cold blue emotionless eyes unflinching as many recruits writhed in agony unable to defend themselves against the deathly touch. Heavy blow after heavy blow rained down on the unholy spectre, nothing mortal could possibly withstand the attack, yet it was. Too many lives perished until a final anguished ear-splitting wail rang out from the ghoul as it eventually succumbed, leaving just a robe, losing all solid form before the wide-eyed survivors.

An ancient weathered tower was all that lay ahead, a fetid stench made men gag the nearer they drew towards it. Silently, enemies spewed out from within. Wild-eyed crazed men were followed by the corrupted followers of a dark church. A harmless looking old crone in tattered rags was the last mumbling something incoherent. Cavalrymen mounted their horses and began the attack whilst recruits brought up the rear hacking at anything that moved. Horses whinnied in fear and were slain along with their riders. Recruits were either ripped limb by limb by the enemy or trampled to death by panicking horses trying to flee the carnage. None survived.

Reservist generals and troops watched the bloody merciless massacre thought long and hard about retreating. “We need to kill the old hag! Her muttering was giving them all unnatural powers of survival,” a recruit said, “maybe she is a witch!” A general then spoke, “We can’t return home without one last try. Concentrate everything we have left at her, archers, cavalrymen, soldiers and recruits, once she falls we may have a chance.” The men readied for battle for the last time with a glimmer of hope in their hearts. Also knowing if they failed, nothing stood between these foes and their families back home.

Cavalry stampeded a brutal charge, crossbowmen rained down bolt after bolt and soldiers swung their mighty steel swords. The men gave it all they could as they hacked and slashed a path to the old crone. The muttering stopped as soon as the first blow struck, her presence weakened, many more followed until she lay prone with her dismembered followers strewn across the battlefield before her. She would have looked quite pathetic were it not for the malevolence in her eyes, the light within the orbs fading as she drew her ultimate breath.

Soldiers cleaned their weapons; archers salvaged bows; cavalrymen calmed their steeds before quietly beginning the return journey home. No one rejoiced, their losses were too great to enable them to celebrate the victory. They reached their ramshackle homestead in hushed silence. Few families hadn’t lost a father, a brother or a son, collectively they wept as they mourned their dead. The only light left in the settlers’ hearts was that the goal had succeeded, they were safe and the threat was eliminated.

A new day brought yet another cold harsh October morning. Foresters sowed tiny seeds where woodcutters had previously made a clearing, smiths hammered away at glowing hot metals, hunters stalked after unaware timid deer. Village life continued within the close knit community as it had for generations.

Just before midday another explorer returned bringing even more urgent tidings of yet more heinous beasts nearby. Yet again the townsfolk gathered, a decision was soon reached, they would up roots and move to somewhere less dangerous!

:p

Oh pumpkin what did you do
I started to crave and you turned to goo
With a sharp knife I did poke
Thinking I could crave was really the joke
Looking at my hand as it goes numb
Playing with the knife was truly dumb
I cut and I craved thought it would be fun
Lost so much blood someone call 9-1-1
I thought I could crave out the witch
I’m going to the hospital life is such a …….

THE WITCH’S CURSE

My fears have been realized, it couldn’t be worse,
The guild has been hit with a terrible curse

The witch from the swamp, who resides in the tower
Has conjured a spell with her Cauldron of Power

The goldmines are empty, the wells are too shallow
And the shiny new silos are leaving fields fallow

The guild house is haunted, all ties have been severed,
Our guild quests will stay in the menu forever

The witch has decreed that the curse won’t be lifted
‘Til guild members’ excess pumpkins have been gifted

‘Til the grim reaper’s stationed with every low level
All Halloween bounty remains with the devil

And should any guildie continue to balk
The pumpkins will grow arms and legs and just walk

The master named Eliot’s not here to beguile;
He’s what happens when dark magic visits your isle

The zombie buffs backfire and eat all your storage
The stables collapse and the horses must forage

Our troops may emerge from this horror alive,
But only together will the guild survive

Pine for us the most, with our colorful leaves, not even a boast, on all-hallows-eve, our punkins on-a-roast, should we believe , Sandy'll hit our coast ?

Nine wittle pumpkin patches
all in a row
3 went down
6 to go
Six wittle pumpkin patches
all in a row
3 went down
3 to go
Three wittle pumpkin patches
all in a row
3 went down
none to go

TWO OATHS


My Dearest Katherine,

I know it has been some time since I've written and I do apologize if I've worried you. We received our first mission a few weeks ago but we shipped out without a chance to send you a letter. I confess that the boat trip there was a little unnerving. I could not help but worry that my cavalry training would not be sufficient in the midst of an actual battle but those concerns seem silly now. Our foes were double-crossing bandits and we mowed them down like wheat in the fields. In fact, it was over so quickly that I had some pangs of remorse for the poor fellows. However, and I hope you won't think me callous for saying so, my pity for them only lasted until I received my share of the rewards.
My love, I know you were unhappy that I chose to join the military but I am certain now swearing my oath to the Queen’s service was the right choice. I may only be the second son of a lesser gentlemen but I will soon be able to ask your father for your hand in marriage and not be ashamed of my standing. In time we may even be able to afford one of those grand homes on the coast that you're always talking about.
I have more good news: in a few weeks we will be granted leave to return home for a few days. I cannot wait to see you again, my love.

Yours forever,
Michael

P.S. I keep your yellow hair ribbon wrapped around my wrist as a reminder of you. The other lads tease me but I believe it brings me luck.


**************

My Darling Michael,

It was so good to finally receive a letter from you. I was, as you said, quite concerned that I had not heard from you. I am so glad to hear that your first mission was a rousing success but my love, please do not endanger yourself needlessly to impress me. I do not need a fancy house on the coast. You must know that I would be just as happy with a cottage in the woods if I knew I could spend every day with you.
While you've been away we had a rather strange occurrence here. We woke one day to find our blue sky darkened and the lovely birdsong was replaced with eerie noises. It was all very frightening! Father's foreman came to the door to report that the fields were covered in an evil darkness. My father's frustration was evident but after seeing the fields he admitted that the labourers must remain idle until a solution was found. Just as we were about to head back inside, my cousin Andrew arrived with some strange lanterns. He and Father lit the lanterns over the fields and it was as though the sun had returned full force. The labourers returned to their task and were so productive that Father rewarded them with extra brew in the evening. Andrew said that the lanterns were made from special pumpkins that had appeared out of nowhere. It was all so surreal! The next day the blue sky returned to normal but we still have no birdsong. I wonder if they will ever return. I miss them but not nearly as much as I miss you! Oh Michael, I will be counting the hours until you arrive!

Lovingly yours,
Katherine

**************

My Sweet Katherine,

I only have a few moments to scribble this note. We leave shortly for a joint venture against some outlaws led by someone who calls himself Sir Robin. Unfortunately this means that my furlough has been postponed until we return. My fellows assure me that battles such as these always go well for the cavalry so do not worry yourself needlessly. I promise that I will see you soon.

Yours forever,
Michael


**************

My Beloved Michael,

I know it may be some time before you receive this but writing helps to ease my worries. It seems so strange to be going on with my normal life while you are out there somewhere fighting criminals and outlaws. So, if only to occupy myself, I will tell you about my recent days.
Father has added some silos to our lands. I had thought they were for storage but they seem to refill the fields. Father says it will keep costs down since the fields won’t need replacing so often. I never knew the fields were replaced before but then I know very little of what the labourers do out there.
Oh, speaking of replacements, one of the old residences was torn down and a new building was added in the village. They call it a school but it doesn't seem to have any students. We were in town for a few hours and I only saw one person leave this so-called school. I thought perhaps he was the teacher but I saw him later working at the new butcher shop. Ah well, perhaps I will have more to tell you about it when you've returned. I'm trying to wait patiently but I do miss you!

Always yours,
Katherine


**************

My Precious Katherine,

Those few short days with you were blissful but they were not enough. I miss you already! I still can't quite believe that your father has given me permission to marry you. I am the luckiest man in the world!
My friend James met me on the road back and he will be joining the Queen's Own Longbowmen. We will soon be heading out on a new mission. It seems that the Royal Geological Society is quite certain there is gold in the northeast. It's only being held by a few bandits so I'm sure we won't be there for long.
Hopefully we won't need to spend too much time with the recruits. We do seem to have a high casualty rate for the poor lads so perhaps I should have more compassion but these fellows are like zombies with their blank stares. James swears that he heard several of them moaning "Bread...bread...bread" the other night. I'm sure he's just having me on but they are rather unnerving.
Ah well, at least with James here I will have good company on the road for this trip and my heart will be filled with thoughts of our days together.

Yours forever,
Michael

**************

Dear Katherine,

It is with the deepest sorrow that I'm writing to inform you of the death of your beloved Michael. The general informs me that Michael fought bravely, though I doubt that will be of much consolation to you. There are murmurings around the camp that it was a suicide mission but I know that's not true. I am only telling you this in case you hear of it from someone later. Michael would never have gone into a battle if he knew there was no chance of returning to you. You were and always will be his beloved Katherine.

My deepest condolences,
James

**************

To the Lord Chamberlain,

The geological exploration in the northeast has been concluded. I found a total of five gold deposits that will be more than suitable for future mining endeavours.
Though I wished to inform you of the completion of the expedition, I’ve actually written to ask for your advice on the bizarre situation I currently find myself in. Please bear with me while I tell the tale.
One evening I had set up camp quite close to the mass grave that was prepared for the troops that died in that awful battle against Mary. This was of no concern to me as I long ago realized that dead men are buried everywhere we go. However, I awoke late that night to dogs barking and horses neighing. I came out of my tent to find a cloaked figure standing over the grave. It turned to me and I nearly fainted with shock to see a bare skull under its hooded cloak. It approached me and I could barely breathe. It raised a skeletal hand and I could just glimpse a soiled yellow hair ribbon wrapped around its wrist. It touched the soiled ribbon with a bony finger, "Her love keeps me here but I cannot return to her. I am dead but I cannot die. I swore to love. I swore to fight. Two oaths made but only one can I keep.” I waited but it didn't speak again. After some time it just walked away and disappeared into the darkness.
I went back to my tent and tried to sleep. In the morning I awoke and was certain it was a dream. But, as I packed up and began to ride away, the skeletal creature appeared at the edge of the camp mounted on a shadowy horse. It has been following me ever since. I have stopped at a small tavern and will await your instructions.

Respectfully,
Darius Welland
Royal Geologist

**************

Darius,

We shall, of course, expect your discretion in this matter. Bring this cloaked horseman to the barracks in Castletown. We shall find a use for this creature or we shall find a way to destroy it.
Her Majesty thanks you for your assistance. A reward for your services will be waiting at your home when you arrive.

Sincerely,
Charles Markent
Lord Chamberlain