Post by pandora on Dec 14, 2011 9:32:15 GMT 10
To: bookworm1118
Message: Merry Christmas! Hope you enjoy what there is so far! More pranks to come!
From: Pandora
Title: Winter is Here
Rating: PG
Wishlist Item: A prank war between the Own and the Riders.
Summary (and any warnings): Winter is here and the prank war has begun
Lord Raoul of Goldenlake lay abed, watching the dust motes dance through the gathering light. He frowned; there was something he was forgetting. He rubbed his eyes and grunted his frustration, something was happening today. Something important.
Suddenly outraged cries erupted from the barracks around him, echoing through its familiar halls. The bellows shook the very walls and had Raoul reaching for the long knife he kept beneath his bed before he remembered.
Ah, yes, he thought, releasing the knife and rolling onto his back. Winter is here.
December 1
“This means war,” Dom growled as he dunked his boots in the trough; too angry to even enjoy the warm soapy water on his hands.
“Agreed,” Qasim said with a nod as he struggled with a fragment of eggshell imbedded in his stocking.
Dom raised an eyebrow to the man on his left. “Lerant?”
“I’m with you, Dom,” the younger man replied, giving his boots a firm shake, before putting them by the fire to dry.
Wolset yanked his hand from his boot, grunting as a sharp shard of shell jabbed his hand. “I don’t understand,” he moaned as he straightened from the trough. “Where’d they get so many eggs at this time o’ year?”
Dom frowned as he scrutinised his interior leather. “They must have been planning this for a while.” He shook his head in exasperation and, once again, submerged his poor, mistreated boots.
“Probably storing the eggs somewhere,” Qasim suggested as he cleaned the yolk from between his toes.
Lerant sighed, forlorn. “My eggs certainly weren’t fresh.”
Dom finally stood and gently placed his faithful footwear by the hearth, joining row after row of knee high leather boots, each marked on the outer rim with the emblem of King’s Own.
He turned to the men milling around the mess hall, their bare, wriggling toes exposed for the world to see. “Lads!” he cried, climbing atop a table. “Those Riders, those villainous curs, have struck us again, and struck us hard! Right at our very soles!” he paused a moment, allowing his words to sink in. “And now, my friends, I ask you this: will we stand idle? Will this gross transgression go unanswered?”
“No!” the cry echoed across the hall.
Dom raised his voice above the din, “Are we not men of the King’s Own?”
The very walls shuddered with the affirmative roar.
“We shall have our revenge! And we will show those Riders that no one puts eggs in our shoes and gets away with it!”
From the shadows outside the King’s Own barracks three Riders pulled away at the sound of the cacophony that had erupted within the mess hall.
“Come, my lads,” Miri whispered leading her fellow spies back toward the Riders barracks. “I think now would be a bad time to run into any of our dear friends among the Own,” she winked at them, “Even if we are just taking a casual stroll, on this fine winter’s morning.”
“But Evin said to watch them,” the younger lad insisted.
“And watch them we shall,” Miri said, as she produced a spy glass from mysterious location in the front of her tunic.
Once situated in the stable loft, they watched as one by one the lights in the Own barracks went out, until only the glow of hearth fires remained.
“It’s time,” Miri said with a vicious grin. “Go tell Evin.”
December 2
Dom awoke feeling warm inside, despite the falling snow. He checked his reflection in the mirror and, yes, he was positively glowing. It was the glow of success; of a plan well laid. A glow brought on by the anticipated happiness of getting the Riders back; vengeance for their malicious prank of the day before.
Enthusiastic knocking rattled his door. It was time for the prank retaliation to begin! He’d pulled on his breeches and opened the door to find Lerant standing there, breathless and pale.
Dom gripped the younger man’s shoulders, a feeling of dread in his chest. “What is it, Lerant? What’s happened?”
“It’s our boots, Dom,” Lerant said, his eyes wide with horror. “They’re… They’re all gone.”
Evin listened to the outraged cries of the men of the Own, audible from the Riders mess. “What a lovely start to the festive season,” he said, sipping some hot cocoa – a special treat for the Riders after their hard work the day before.
The hot liquid filled his mouth and it took Evin a moment to realise that something was horribly, horribly wrong.
“Blurg!” he cried spitting the sour cocoa out across the table. He quickly grabbed the pitcher of juice and tried to rinse the lumps of turned milk off his tongue.
All around him the other Riders were in similar states. Those unfortunate enough to have already eaten their porridge were running for the exit as their breakfast threatened an encore.
Evin looked down at his breakfast in astonishment. Before his very eyes the milk on his porridge began to curdle.
“What is this black magic?” some young trainee shrieked from her table.
“This is no magic,” Evin growled. Grabbing an empty mug off the table he ran a finger around the inner edge and pressed it to his tongue. “Citric acid,” he muttered before rounding on Miri. “You were supposed to be watching them!” he accused, referring to her mission the night before.
“I was!” she snapped. “We didn’t see anyone leave! And I told you we needed more people watching them! But the gods forbid you ever listen to anyone else when you’re convinced your being clever! Don’t you even try and blame this on me, Evin Larse!” She took one last glance at her half empty bowl and bolted for the door.
Evin, finding another chunk of milk hidden in his mouth, was right on her heels.
“Gods, that was foul!” Evin exclaimed giving his tongue a final scrub with fresh snow.
“At least there being creative this year,” Miri said grinning viciously, “I love a challenge.”
Evin got to his feet and held out his closed fist. Miri jumped down off the barrel and bumped her fist against his.
“I think revenge is in order” Evin suggested at they made their way back indoors.
“I think you’re right.”
Message: Merry Christmas! Hope you enjoy what there is so far! More pranks to come!
From: Pandora
Title: Winter is Here
Rating: PG
Wishlist Item: A prank war between the Own and the Riders.
Summary (and any warnings): Winter is here and the prank war has begun
Lord Raoul of Goldenlake lay abed, watching the dust motes dance through the gathering light. He frowned; there was something he was forgetting. He rubbed his eyes and grunted his frustration, something was happening today. Something important.
Suddenly outraged cries erupted from the barracks around him, echoing through its familiar halls. The bellows shook the very walls and had Raoul reaching for the long knife he kept beneath his bed before he remembered.
Ah, yes, he thought, releasing the knife and rolling onto his back. Winter is here.
December 1
“This means war,” Dom growled as he dunked his boots in the trough; too angry to even enjoy the warm soapy water on his hands.
“Agreed,” Qasim said with a nod as he struggled with a fragment of eggshell imbedded in his stocking.
Dom raised an eyebrow to the man on his left. “Lerant?”
“I’m with you, Dom,” the younger man replied, giving his boots a firm shake, before putting them by the fire to dry.
Wolset yanked his hand from his boot, grunting as a sharp shard of shell jabbed his hand. “I don’t understand,” he moaned as he straightened from the trough. “Where’d they get so many eggs at this time o’ year?”
Dom frowned as he scrutinised his interior leather. “They must have been planning this for a while.” He shook his head in exasperation and, once again, submerged his poor, mistreated boots.
“Probably storing the eggs somewhere,” Qasim suggested as he cleaned the yolk from between his toes.
Lerant sighed, forlorn. “My eggs certainly weren’t fresh.”
Dom finally stood and gently placed his faithful footwear by the hearth, joining row after row of knee high leather boots, each marked on the outer rim with the emblem of King’s Own.
He turned to the men milling around the mess hall, their bare, wriggling toes exposed for the world to see. “Lads!” he cried, climbing atop a table. “Those Riders, those villainous curs, have struck us again, and struck us hard! Right at our very soles!” he paused a moment, allowing his words to sink in. “And now, my friends, I ask you this: will we stand idle? Will this gross transgression go unanswered?”
“No!” the cry echoed across the hall.
Dom raised his voice above the din, “Are we not men of the King’s Own?”
The very walls shuddered with the affirmative roar.
“We shall have our revenge! And we will show those Riders that no one puts eggs in our shoes and gets away with it!”
From the shadows outside the King’s Own barracks three Riders pulled away at the sound of the cacophony that had erupted within the mess hall.
“Come, my lads,” Miri whispered leading her fellow spies back toward the Riders barracks. “I think now would be a bad time to run into any of our dear friends among the Own,” she winked at them, “Even if we are just taking a casual stroll, on this fine winter’s morning.”
“But Evin said to watch them,” the younger lad insisted.
“And watch them we shall,” Miri said, as she produced a spy glass from mysterious location in the front of her tunic.
Once situated in the stable loft, they watched as one by one the lights in the Own barracks went out, until only the glow of hearth fires remained.
“It’s time,” Miri said with a vicious grin. “Go tell Evin.”
December 2
Dom awoke feeling warm inside, despite the falling snow. He checked his reflection in the mirror and, yes, he was positively glowing. It was the glow of success; of a plan well laid. A glow brought on by the anticipated happiness of getting the Riders back; vengeance for their malicious prank of the day before.
Enthusiastic knocking rattled his door. It was time for the prank retaliation to begin! He’d pulled on his breeches and opened the door to find Lerant standing there, breathless and pale.
Dom gripped the younger man’s shoulders, a feeling of dread in his chest. “What is it, Lerant? What’s happened?”
“It’s our boots, Dom,” Lerant said, his eyes wide with horror. “They’re… They’re all gone.”
Evin listened to the outraged cries of the men of the Own, audible from the Riders mess. “What a lovely start to the festive season,” he said, sipping some hot cocoa – a special treat for the Riders after their hard work the day before.
The hot liquid filled his mouth and it took Evin a moment to realise that something was horribly, horribly wrong.
“Blurg!” he cried spitting the sour cocoa out across the table. He quickly grabbed the pitcher of juice and tried to rinse the lumps of turned milk off his tongue.
All around him the other Riders were in similar states. Those unfortunate enough to have already eaten their porridge were running for the exit as their breakfast threatened an encore.
Evin looked down at his breakfast in astonishment. Before his very eyes the milk on his porridge began to curdle.
“What is this black magic?” some young trainee shrieked from her table.
“This is no magic,” Evin growled. Grabbing an empty mug off the table he ran a finger around the inner edge and pressed it to his tongue. “Citric acid,” he muttered before rounding on Miri. “You were supposed to be watching them!” he accused, referring to her mission the night before.
“I was!” she snapped. “We didn’t see anyone leave! And I told you we needed more people watching them! But the gods forbid you ever listen to anyone else when you’re convinced your being clever! Don’t you even try and blame this on me, Evin Larse!” She took one last glance at her half empty bowl and bolted for the door.
Evin, finding another chunk of milk hidden in his mouth, was right on her heels.
“Gods, that was foul!” Evin exclaimed giving his tongue a final scrub with fresh snow.
“At least there being creative this year,” Miri said grinning viciously, “I love a challenge.”
Evin got to his feet and held out his closed fist. Miri jumped down off the barrel and bumped her fist against his.
“I think revenge is in order” Evin suggested at they made their way back indoors.
“I think you’re right.”