Rumor has it that four lochness monster was seen in the marsh
And a curious traveler wandered in but found freshly torn limbs
Floating and bobbing silently, before running away from something large
Something that tug out his painful screams and perform the dreadful hymn
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The quiet sun rises and gleams the silver off a lone red-haired’s armor. Her gloved hands busy on writing papers entitled list of performers, with a subtext ‘For Ober Vanderhawk’ and the first name barely written is ‘Amerie Noir’ which the ink has already faded off the yellow papers. She stands guard before the rustic iron gates. In front of a hunched and jittery crowd. Men, women, elderly and children in dirt-stained rags.
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Their pale malnourished faces–some scarred and others horrified with wide eyes and ill dilated pupils, some rattling rough coughs that might be from the raging pandemic running at large in the kingdom. They all keep the gatekeeper asking the same question over and over again, for laws are laws in the kingdom and for rules are by what every citizen should be, “what did you sin?”
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Those who answer truthfully are permitted to pass, while those who wake her one-eyed owl are written on the paper but nonetheless permitted to enter.
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“I stole a horse and crossed the border…” shakily answers a dwarfized man, eyes sunken deep in harsh shadows and cheeks swollen in blistering purple. One eye of his is closed with blood dripping out of it. But even in his pitiful expression–searching for mercy at the gatekeeper, he gets asked the question again, cold without a hint of mercy on the icy sharp tongue.
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“For the final word, what did you sin?” a harsher tone that sees through him.
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There is no use lying. The monstruous owl has already opened its soulless eye that only seems to see impending horror. Its black feathers make his pitiful short misty legs shudder, exchanging his glances between the gatekeeper--creature and the monster, creature / monster, creature / monster, with both impatient to hear his answer. They stare, stare, stare down at this garbage who wastes their time in shaking.
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The thought to be honest lies at the tip of his tongue but he cannot remember. He cannot remember what he did wrong and now only his sorry heartbeat is all that he can hear. --dump, --dump, --dump, the sound of drums at war. Panting, and crumbling down to his pebble knees, seeking his own shadow but the day has started to rise high above mountains. He can feel from their stares, that his arm would break every bone in a merciless twist and neck pecked off for its breakfast. A foot tries to step pass, wanting to simply just go in without the stares and questions. “AAAAAAAHH!” Alas, the pitiful being screams and the gatekeeper curves the final stroke before kicking the useless thing into the hay. “My time is precious.” A watchful gaze on anyone who is shuddering, causing them to lose their legs as well, “Next! …What did you sin?”
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Now, everyone else’s restless eyes and tense muscles are drawn to what can be a goblin plus a man. His staggering height with crimson snake eyes, and protruded facial features in approach, dagger like teeth in his smile, confident in his stride and glare down at the gate keeper’s golden necklace that is well snuggled in between her armor and tunic. With a sharp tongue and gaze, he speaks with eloquence. “I drank the petty blood of a pathetic noble and got blamed for their death when it was simply not my fault~ They died because they were weak and pathetic! Can you believe it? How dare they accuse me~ I~” grinning in the depressed and bewildered crowd, hearing his stomach-churning horror.
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“Monster…”, Mutters the surrounding crowd before slowly taking their steps back, struggling breaths facing the presence of a legitimate monster. That with just a simple glance over his shoulder, some end up fleeing for the marsh–getting shot by the archers, or tremble their twig legs onto the damp dirt. The blood shot eyes charade shrieks mayhem from the screamers, but those who can move smartly look the other away.
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“I’ve traveled long far and wide. May I ask what benefits can I have for being here…milady?” emphasis on the title,
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By which the gatekeeper replies with sword sharp stops, “I am no milady.” Every word being as important as her breath and her studying dagger glare, bringing a twisted smile out of this monster, “As for your question, either be dungeon filth or royal plaything. The choice is irrelevant. Depends on what the hierarchy asks of you. Simply serve that you are in of the bottom of Kinguin’s dregs”
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Catching his breath by how well this gatekeeper manages herself, even feel like a dagger is right at his throat, “Ooooooo~” chiming with a certain smile, dark shadows around his gums sharpening his fangs, “that don't sound so elegant~ Know your place below my knees, prey~ does that what you said?”
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Her red hair blazes against the rising sun, with verdant eyes pure of malice. “Try me” voice in a low growl with a hand on the hilt of her sword, not even the question seems to faze her adamant face.
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And the humanoid monster steps back, realizing a hidden power in her stance, but his smirk knows well. “I see…Well, I won’t dispute, no more. All for milady”
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“Move along, creature of Dramescula.” Flaps one-eyed owl’s dark green plumes, speaking in echoic divine, their head tilted, “The solar radiance, while magnificent, can be a harsh mistress to those unprepared for its brilliance. Hoot, we have not a time for this”
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“Hahaha The sun's reign will end! The mistress of shadows is here, and soon, its radiance will be but a memory, extinguished by her glorious darkness~ Why take sides?”
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“Hoot, we are both of the same blood, I know just as well what you are, as you know me. Better not, an avid battler than a barbarian as you are. Hoot”
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“Enough!” The gatekeeper, annoyed by this extended interrogation, slightly pulls out her sword and the iron gleam of light slices a burn on the monster’s cheek. With the one-eyed owl zip with cowering feathers, “Move now, child. Instantly, before I cut off your head!”
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And his smile cuts his face wider, “My pleasure~” hauntingly with padded steps
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“Nuisance, next!” She calls, as the monster is already walking past the gate, yet no one wants to step up. “I said next!” Her nerves bulging. Nobody wants to walk up to her. Their mumbling tongues complaining about the monster and why she let him in. Why she let that monster have its way. To which she replies befitting of her as a gatekeeper, “Let you in or feed you to the marsh. Simple as one word from me and you will obey. Whether forced or not, I don’t care.”
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Then comes a short little girl who wears no clothing,
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“What did you sin?” Asking the already obvious, not even a slightest bit of hesitation whether to confirm if this one is a girl or not.
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Which they reply, “Mira…”
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The gatekeeper raises a brow and almost had to ask again when this one says, “Mira, just list my name. I don’t care.” Crazy bulging eyes with irises as shrunk down as an ant.
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“Let me see your hand”
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And the girl easily does so, showing an awfully large palm with stubble fingers, similar to those of paws. “What else should Mira brag about?”
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“Get in,” Which she does so without any hesitation. Two strange individuals that her shrinked irises cannot fully comprehend. Still, it is early in the day and she assures herself that time will give her the moment to inspect them again. Five slaves and criminals later, a group of people from the back can be heard panicking and screaming.
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The gatekeeper simply rolls her eyes up while facing down at her notepad, seeing a woman with a baby being chased by something which the skin is black and streams of purple gurgling out from an oversized belly. The people screaming zombie. Fires are shot down at it but does no effect other than raging its legs to chase at its prey faster. Then, it bites down on the mother’s shoulder in the middle of a crowd—her reaching out and asking for help, even raising her baby for anyone to take it. Hearing one click of a tongue and the bloated zombie explodes, splattering organs and blood. from those around it.
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All the slaves and criminals lined up scream in horror. Those lucky enough to survive are covered with blood and shock. While the rest cannot be ordered to stop being frantic and breaking the line. An entire mess of a line this is. With the gatekeeper’s words falling on deaf ears.
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“Hoot hoot, Best to do it now.” The one-eyed owl flaps its feathers, covering its ears.
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She takes out a whistle, blows on it before yellow, “Archers! Ready at the count of 10. All of you should be in line! 10! 9!”
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And the ragged crowd rush back to their respective counts. The damp mud eating their bare feet. With all of their chests not being able to breath, some not looking while some covering their heads. The gatekeeper looks around before someone from the flank towers call out to her, “Sol!”
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“What?” She yells back,
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“Princess Thean delivered you a basket of Sunblot oranges again!” The old voice speaking clear despite the harshness that tries to silence him.
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Which Sol’s corner lips hopscotches playfully, “On my table pa!”
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