The Kithkin children raced down the street, each trying to be the first to reach the graveyard. Mairl, the oldest, was the first. They ran up to the haggard man with a shovel. When he saw the children he plunged his shovel into the ground and threw his arms around the small folk. “Mairl, Gooldri, and Missa, how good to see you.” The old man smelt of graveyard soil.
The man straightened up, “Now go find a grave.” The children raced off. The old man followed behind. His legs were stiff and he leaned on gravestones for support. The children put some life in the old zombie. He smiled more when they were around, he felt… human.
The children gathered around a large monolith, “This one, this one.” Old man Toma came up to the stone and pulled out his tarnished reading glasses, he read the inscription. “Ah, Saltwater Jane. That’s a good one.” He leaned back, his mind wasn’t as sharp as it once was.
***
It is said by the Vindr stormchasers that the same ancient forces that move the winds can also move mortal minds and hearts. That could be the reason why those with fickle hearts often flee to the sea.
And no man was more capricious than Captain Lou Dover. That is… until he met Saltwater Jane.
She was born at sea. The daughter of a sailor, she was given the name Jane. When the boat reached Port Rally, the parents bought a house and business and the child grew up without knowing want. And what a magnificent person she became. She was the most beautiful woman in port, and as skilled at sailing as any man.
So skilled was she, that those around her called her Saltwater Jane.
Captain Lou Dover was twelve when he inherited his father’s pirate ship. At the age of twenty, when Jane was born, he had earned the reputation of a merciless pirate. None survived when he boarded a ship. No route or island was free from his tyranny.
Sixteen years after Jane was born, Captain Dover changed. His bloodlust died, and his dark and cold heart softened. The last ship he boarded saw no death, the last act of Captain Dover.
He sold off his boat and charted a steamer to Port Rally. When he reached port, he spent nine of his twenties fortunes buying the right connections to become a respectful gentlemen.
He bought a large house and those in Port Rally knew him only as Lord Kilder.
When the annual fisherman’s ball came around, women from all around port lined up to dance with him, but he would only dance with one. He walked up to Saltwater Jane and offered his hand, she giggled and took it.
They danced for hours under the moonlight. And long after the candles had snuffed themselves out, the pair was still dancing. They kissed before parting and he whispered sweet nothings into her ears.
The pair courted for weeks and in time they were to be wed under the next full moon.
But the sea calls to men, and I have yet to meet the born sailor who can ignore it for long. Dover left the day before he was to wed but promised he would be back by year’s end.
Three years passed.
Dover returned with many stories. But he wished most to see his beloved. As hard as he looked, he could not find her. When he visited her parents, learned the truth.
His beloved had waited through storm and sun for his return. She waited on the rock pier that jutted out into the ocean. After many months she grew ill. And yet, though she weakened she still waited out on the pier. Then one night, during a terrible storm, the sea claimed her body and all. A day later her engagement ring washed ashore.
Dover clutched the tarnished ring and shed a tear.
It was his fault she was taken by the sea, and he was strong in his resolve, that he would get her back.
In his travels of the sea, Dover had heard of a bridge between this world and the next. He spent five fortunes commissioning a boat and crew, and set sails for the isle of the dead. He anchored the ship just off the island and went alone to its shores. The bridge to below was precarious. The thin band of stone spiraled down the large cavern within the island. When Lou reached the floor to the cavern he saw a demon. It was made of char and ash. It stood nine feet tall and howled like the wind.
“The living have no claim here,”
The creature approached him leaving smoking footprints in its wake. He stabbed the demon through the forehead. It stumbled, but kept on coming,
“The living have no claim here.”
“What will it take to get back what the sea has claimed?”
The demon stopped, and pulled the blade from its head,.
“A life for a life.”
The demon dropped the blade at the pirate’s feet. The blasted pirate Lou Dover looked up at the demon,
“How about we make a deal?”
Saltwater Jane woke in her bed. Sitting by the bedside was a man. She didn’t recognize his face, but she knew those eyes. She didn’t know how, but this man was her beloved. “How?” she whispered.
The gentleman Kilder leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, “I went to the edge of hell to get you back. The demon warden wanted a trade… a life for a life.”
Jane ran her hand across his face, “But your face.”
“Jane, I was the blasted pirate Dover. The greatest pirate to sail the Azure Seas. As him I’ve lived more than any normal man. I gave him up to have you.
A life, for a life.” He leaned down and kissed her again. “Now sleep. You’ll be feeling fine in a few days.”
And so Lou Kilder and Saltwater Jane lived contently from then on.
***
Toma looked up. Mrs. Chirl had come to pick up her kids. The group walked to the cemetery gates. Toma picked up his shovel. “Run along children, I’ll catch up with you in a minute,” the mother said. She asked quietly of Toma, “Is any of that story true.”
The old man’s eye’s lit up, like a child who stole a candy, “All stories are true, it’s the storytellers you have to worry about.”
Chirl grinned and walked out of cemetery. Toma chuckled to himself, began digging, and hummed an old sea ditty to himself.
"Enjoy your screams, Sarpadia - they will soon be muffled beneath snow and ice." THE COALITION WAR GAME -Phyrexian Praetor Round 1: (4-1-2, 1 kill) Round 2: (16-8-2, 4 kills) Round 3: (18-9-2, 1 kill) Round 4: (22-10-0, 2 kills) Round 5: (56-16-3, 9 kills) Round 6: (8-7-1) [current round]
I read a short story on here, it's by Skibo the first, and I love it.
It's obvious you have a great talent for storytelling. Whether long or short, horror or romance, you clearly are capable of great breadth and diversity with your writing, and might I say that your stories are of great inspiration to an aspiring writer.
The story is amazing, but I'm equally intrigued by the friendly old storyteller role being filled by a zombie. In a graveyard. That juxtaposition of happy children and the grimdoom connotations of graves and the undead really grabs me. Probably more than it should.
"The truth resists simplicity." Some memorable quotesShow
I know, as a good liberal scholar, that I'm supposed to respect every other belief and culture and what have you that comes along but... at the end of the day, when all is said and done, some things are just plain wrong.
Venser "Ah, Hello Myr. This is the King. Long Time no see. We thought today would be a good day for rolling. The Myr Battlesphere. The Myr. Where the first rolls and the second follows. Roll, roll, roll. For that purpose we went to the bother, the bother of fixing up Mirrodin. The King of the Multiverse going to the bother just for rolling a Myr Battlephere, just for that, we went to the bother."
Heard a joke once: Mare goes to doctor. Says she's depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says she feels all alone in a threatening world where even ponies you thought were your friends can't be trusted. Doctor says "Treatment is simple. Go to one of Pinkie Pie's great parties tonight. Party hard. That should pick you up." Mare bursts into tears. Says "But, doctor...I am Pinkie Pie." Good joke. Everypony laughs. Roll on snare drum. Curtains. Fade to black.
Sure, "the average person" might go see Transformers 3 if s/he wants a good story, but that doesn't stop people from making decent movies. Hell, they even managed to make Batman into a respectable movie. "The average" person might like American Idol or Jersey Shore, but people still made The Wire.
I think the people who would sit down and listen to a minstrel reciting Homer, or thought that novels were art, or read poetry were always a minority. It's a common viewpoint that art was better in the past because everyone's forgotten the bad stuff, while we haven't had time to forget the awful stuff that is current.
For almost all Magic fans, the "story" of Ravnica, for example, is that it's a city world with ten guilds -- yes, for most, that's a "story." All but a tiny fraction of the fan base are entirely unaware of an elaborate plot perpetrated by Augustin IV to trick Agrus Kos and Szadek into breaking the Guildpact, thereby enabling the Azorius to take control. Likewise, the vast majority of Magic players don't know who Harbin is, or Nivea, or Al-Hayat, or Feather, or Jared Carthalion, or Rebbec, or Zagorka ... the list goes on and on.
I'm pulling this out of nowhere and it has nothing like fact attached to it, but it cannot be disproven without breaking the fourth wall, and this is going to be my headcanon because it makes perfect sense.
I posit [Tamiyo, the Moon Sage] writes the Planeswalker's Guides to planes.
The story is amazing, but I'm equally intrigued by the friendly old storyteller role being filled by a zombie. In a graveyard. That juxtaposition of happy children and the grimdoom connotations of graves and the undead really grabs me. Probably more than it should.
This story makes me want an entire "pirate" themed plane
Official Speaker of the Expanded Multiverse Project, Step into Dominia-Embrace the infinite Magic of the Planes. This -> is my favorite smiley, I will use it often and without reason. You have been warned. The Story of My LoveShow
Trolljuju wiped the sweat from his brow as he continued his slow trudge up the snowy mountain. The wind was strong and fiercely cold, but he pressed against it. Juju knew Beast Engine was somewhere at the peak, waiting for him. But this was not a matter of confronting the forces of nature themselves; that had been accomplished long before, and was now too easy to maintain the manly man's interest. Today, Beast Engine was here waiting for a friend.
Trolljuju's mind drifted from his appointment to thoughts of Beast Engine's manliness. The only man in history to punch the fossilized remains of a dinosaur back to life just to punch it to death again. The man who deflected bullets with his pectoral muscles during his daily assassination attempts. The man who cured cancer with a serum made from pure crystalized virility. The man who burst with vigor. Not just a man but a Man- the manliest of all men. A god of masculinity in physical form.
Trolljuju's heart fluttered at the memory of him and lightened his steps as he pressed on.
Suddenly, he was shaken from his reverie by a deep, powerful rumble in the mountain that shook him to his core. Instinctively, he threw himself to the ground just before the slope ahead of him exploded in a fiery wall of light and heat. So great was the force that the entire upper section of the mountain was vaproized. It scorched Juju's coat, then rose on the air to drift far away, a plume of white-hot ash. When Trolljuju lifted his head to see what was left behind, he beheld a wide, perfectly flat stone plateau, and in the distance he could see a muscular figure, his foot still held up from the kick. There was no doubt it was Beast Engine.
As soon as the ground beneath him cooled, Juju cast his heavy pack aside and ran. As the figure grew with closeness, he could see Beast Engine was nude, as was expected. The snow that fell near him turned to a thin wall of steam, looking to Trolljuju's eyes like a barrier. Engine was too strong, too manly to occupy the same space as the ordinary universe. He lived in a world all his own. But fortunately for Juju, it was only an illusion. He ran at full speed into Engine, who caught him with both arms and effortlessly twirled with him, resting with Juju dipped low to the ground in Engine's arms.
"Beast Engine, my love," Trolljuju breathed, sturck with awe at Engine's masculine beauty despite the familiarity of his face. Engine just smiled, radiating from every inch of him with incredible strength, yet gentle warmth. "It's been so long, Juju. I've missed you." "Forgive me. I lost contact with you while you were boxing with Death to win back and consume the soul of Theodore Roosevelt. But now I'm here..." Juju lifted one tentative hand to Engine's face, but he pulled away. "You know I cannot give you what you seek. Were we to make love, your body would be destroyed by the force." "I know, of course I would," Juju responded, tears in his eyes. "May I have, at least, one kiss?" "Very well. For you, my friend." Slowly, gingerly, they came closer. But the moment their lips met, a flood of unbridled manliness rushed into Trolljuju, body and soul, and every cell in his body exploded.
Beast Engine fell to his knees, and in his grief, he wept. The tears that fell from his face burned deep into the rock beneath him. But slowly, his sorrow turned to conviction.
He beat the crap out of Death once. He could do it again.
Of the 17 pirates printed in M:tG, 16 are blue, and one is blue/black. But those are all very old, and if you ask me, Pirates are . for their natural habitat, for their fondness of (cough) piracy, as well as various other illicit activities, and for their go-get-em swashbuckling zeal and their love of anything fun- be it sea shanties, rum, prostitutes, or killing people and taking their boat and everything on it.
Skibo_the_First entered the GDS2, and his plane, Scargotto, had a strong presence of piracy. It was sort of a Colonial Americas analogue, with more than one twist. And it was a pretty great plane, flavorfully as well as mechanically.
"The truth resists simplicity." Some memorable quotesShow
I know, as a good liberal scholar, that I'm supposed to respect every other belief and culture and what have you that comes along but... at the end of the day, when all is said and done, some things are just plain wrong.
Venser "Ah, Hello Myr. This is the King. Long Time no see. We thought today would be a good day for rolling. The Myr Battlesphere. The Myr. Where the first rolls and the second follows. Roll, roll, roll. For that purpose we went to the bother, the bother of fixing up Mirrodin. The King of the Multiverse going to the bother just for rolling a Myr Battlephere, just for that, we went to the bother."
Heard a joke once: Mare goes to doctor. Says she's depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says she feels all alone in a threatening world where even ponies you thought were your friends can't be trusted. Doctor says "Treatment is simple. Go to one of Pinkie Pie's great parties tonight. Party hard. That should pick you up." Mare bursts into tears. Says "But, doctor...I am Pinkie Pie." Good joke. Everypony laughs. Roll on snare drum. Curtains. Fade to black.
Sure, "the average person" might go see Transformers 3 if s/he wants a good story, but that doesn't stop people from making decent movies. Hell, they even managed to make Batman into a respectable movie. "The average" person might like American Idol or Jersey Shore, but people still made The Wire.
I think the people who would sit down and listen to a minstrel reciting Homer, or thought that novels were art, or read poetry were always a minority. It's a common viewpoint that art was better in the past because everyone's forgotten the bad stuff, while we haven't had time to forget the awful stuff that is current.
For almost all Magic fans, the "story" of Ravnica, for example, is that it's a city world with ten guilds -- yes, for most, that's a "story." All but a tiny fraction of the fan base are entirely unaware of an elaborate plot perpetrated by Augustin IV to trick Agrus Kos and Szadek into breaking the Guildpact, thereby enabling the Azorius to take control. Likewise, the vast majority of Magic players don't know who Harbin is, or Nivea, or Al-Hayat, or Feather, or Jared Carthalion, or Rebbec, or Zagorka ... the list goes on and on.
I'm pulling this out of nowhere and it has nothing like fact attached to it, but it cannot be disproven without breaking the fourth wall, and this is going to be my headcanon because it makes perfect sense.
I posit [Tamiyo, the Moon Sage] writes the Planeswalker's Guides to planes.
Interesting, I wonder if Skibo would be willing to add Scargotto to the EM
Official Speaker of the Expanded Multiverse Project, Step into Dominia-Embrace the infinite Magic of the Planes. This -> is my favorite smiley, I will use it often and without reason. You have been warned. The Story of My LoveShow
Trolljuju wiped the sweat from his brow as he continued his slow trudge up the snowy mountain. The wind was strong and fiercely cold, but he pressed against it. Juju knew Beast Engine was somewhere at the peak, waiting for him. But this was not a matter of confronting the forces of nature themselves; that had been accomplished long before, and was now too easy to maintain the manly man's interest. Today, Beast Engine was here waiting for a friend.
Trolljuju's mind drifted from his appointment to thoughts of Beast Engine's manliness. The only man in history to punch the fossilized remains of a dinosaur back to life just to punch it to death again. The man who deflected bullets with his pectoral muscles during his daily assassination attempts. The man who cured cancer with a serum made from pure crystalized virility. The man who burst with vigor. Not just a man but a Man- the manliest of all men. A god of masculinity in physical form.
Trolljuju's heart fluttered at the memory of him and lightened his steps as he pressed on.
Suddenly, he was shaken from his reverie by a deep, powerful rumble in the mountain that shook him to his core. Instinctively, he threw himself to the ground just before the slope ahead of him exploded in a fiery wall of light and heat. So great was the force that the entire upper section of the mountain was vaproized. It scorched Juju's coat, then rose on the air to drift far away, a plume of white-hot ash. When Trolljuju lifted his head to see what was left behind, he beheld a wide, perfectly flat stone plateau, and in the distance he could see a muscular figure, his foot still held up from the kick. There was no doubt it was Beast Engine.
As soon as the ground beneath him cooled, Juju cast his heavy pack aside and ran. As the figure grew with closeness, he could see Beast Engine was nude, as was expected. The snow that fell near him turned to a thin wall of steam, looking to Trolljuju's eyes like a barrier. Engine was too strong, too manly to occupy the same space as the ordinary universe. He lived in a world all his own. But fortunately for Juju, it was only an illusion. He ran at full speed into Engine, who caught him with both arms and effortlessly twirled with him, resting with Juju dipped low to the ground in Engine's arms.
"Beast Engine, my love," Trolljuju breathed, sturck with awe at Engine's masculine beauty despite the familiarity of his face. Engine just smiled, radiating from every inch of him with incredible strength, yet gentle warmth. "It's been so long, Juju. I've missed you." "Forgive me. I lost contact with you while you were boxing with Death to win back and consume the soul of Theodore Roosevelt. But now I'm here..." Juju lifted one tentative hand to Engine's face, but he pulled away. "You know I cannot give you what you seek. Were we to make love, your body would be destroyed by the force." "I know, of course I would," Juju responded, tears in his eyes. "May I have, at least, one kiss?" "Very well. For you, my friend." Slowly, gingerly, they came closer. But the moment their lips met, a flood of unbridled manliness rushed into Trolljuju, body and soul, and every cell in his body exploded.
Beast Engine fell to his knees, and in his grief, he wept. The tears that fell from his face burned deep into the rock beneath him. But slowly, his sorrow turned to conviction.
He beat the crap out of Death once. He could do it again.
Interesting, I wonder if Skibo would be willing to add Scargotto to the EM
He was planning to, last time I heard... if he's too busy to attend to his speaker duties, though, he's probably too busy to wrap up Scargotto as completely as he wants to.
I hope this story gets a place in that world, though.
is my favorite smiley, I will use it often and without reason. You have been warned.
for their natural habitat, 
for their fondness of (cough) piracy, as well as various other illicit activities, and 
for their go-get-em swashbuckling zeal and their love of anything fun- be it sea shanties, rum, prostitutes, or killing people and taking their boat and everything on it.
