November "Giving Thanks" Contest

[natureluvr 666]

Hello again everyone! Thank you so much to everyone who entered the last contest! In the spirit of Thanksgiving, this contest will be focused around the theme of "Thankfulness".

 

Submissions will close on December 4, 2020 and the winners will be announced on December 5, 2020!

 

Thankfulness Short Stories, Poetry, etc.

Submissions to this contest must be some sort of text-based art, Thankfulness themed, and strongly related to Aethier in some way. This could be a short story about the friends and bonds you've made with other players on Aethier, a poem your character wrote about how thankful they are for something, etc. Just something IC or OOC to give thanks this year. Be creative! You can submit as many entries as you'd like, but you can only win once.

 

Prizes

1st Place: 5,000 Forum Credits

2nd Place: 4,000 Forum Credits

3rd Place: 3,000 Forum Credits

 

Entry Format

Post your artwork on this thread.

Author name you would like to be referred to when being credited as the author of the piece.

Optional: If you'd also like to be tagged on social media when/if we post your submission to be credited, please include your social media names.

 

See this thread for more information on Forum Credits if you don't know what they are/how they're used!

 

Please be aware that by entering your work into this contest, you consent for the entry you submit to be posted to Aethier's social media platforms, including but not limited to: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and being featured in YouTube videos/trailers.

[Demented_Delila 240]

Author Name: Del 

Optional: N/A I don't use Social Media

 

Short Story Title: The Tailor-Mage's Thanks

Spoiler

 

The Tailor-Mage had noticed that the time of Chuseok had come and gone, far quicker than she’d realized. The time of giving thanks had come again and she was more than prepared this time. There was plenty now for her to celebrate over; her friends, who had become family, her success in her profession, the joy of being alive. 

 

The danakov’s tail wags as she paces the markets of Holmsgard, the first gentle chill of winter beginning to nip at her nose. She drew her scarf a little tighter over her ears, watching as a young child ran after their dog. She had a list of ingredients, Hanese in origin. She wouldn’t dare cook Avaltan for them, considering her dishes typically had eel jerky, fermented shark, and blood sausage; all of which were not terribly favored by Andrew and the others. The chocolate from Amenhonhor was evidence enough.

 

There was a vendor in from Gunsan and she stopped to discuss her list with him, haggling the prices of his wares. Her basket is placed on the table as she examines the vegetables before her, squishing a few turnips to test their firmness. She settles on the larger of the two she found, and procures some scallions and a bulb of garlic, and some parcel wrapped beef brisket. There were some other things she needed but this would do for now.

 

As she returns home, she’s greeted by the familiar she’d woven. Kohaku barks and runs circles around her, excited for her to be home. Her cat, Iseul, is shortly behind, chirping up at her as she removed her boots by the door, rubbing on her legs. This was home. She set her basket down and began the process of making muguk.

 

As she took her knife to the beef brisket, she began to recall the memories of the last few tsels. Sure, she and Andrew had their fist fight, but he was still like a brother to her. So was Saevel, for that matter. The fist fights she’d had with them were endearingly silly, and has if anything strengthened their bonds. It didn’t mean so much as an ounce of malice when she threw  a punch. She didn’t like when Andrew put himself down, calling him a monster; afterall, one would need to do far worse things to be a monster then be a vallah. Her punch for Saevel might’ve been a little undeserving but he was  being nosy and slightly demeaning. The danakov drags over a stool, so that Iseul and Kohaku may sit and watch her cooking as they often did, a thin-cut strip being snuck to the cat.

 

The contents of her cutting board are scrapped into the bowl as she separates a garlic clove from the bulb. She pressed the clove with the flat of her knife, before mincing. It was times when she cooked like this she began to wonder how River was while she was in Camlann. It was cold up there, and she hoped that her bonded sister was staying warm. It shouldn’t be a problem, considering all the feathers. The minced garlic is thrown into the bowl with the beef and doused in a pinch of pepper, soup soy sauce, and sesame oil, and left to marinate.   

 

She dumps the contents of her bowl into the pot, adding a touch of oil so that the beef didn’t burn. A happy little hum escapes the busy danakov as a thought flickered across her mind; Aeric would like this. She was particularly grateful for him, and all the kindness he had in him. She adored him, adored everything about him, trusted him to hold her very soul in his hands if she had too. Her tail wags, out of habit, as she cooked and thought. 

 

She grabs her chopsticks, pulling the cooked beef strips out to set in a plate for later and pulling the pot to let it rest a moment. The danakov grabs her radish from the basket, placing it down on her cutting board. She paused for a moment as she looked down at the radish, quietly murmuring a nigh inaudible I miss you as she began to dice it. Anna’s death had left her sad, an impossible to fill hole in her life where her best friend had been. The dryad, she thinks, would be happier now. She just wished that she’d not made herself forget the tragedy of it all for so long. She was grateful for the lessons she’d learned.

 

The small cubes of diced radish are added to the pot with the rest of her minced garlic, taking a moment to cut down the scallions she bought into more manageable pieces. She pours several cups of water into the pot and covered it, pondering for a moment. His majesty, Avel Maddoc, had certainly been one she was grateful for. He helped her where he could and even encouraged some of her projects. She felt bad for all the times she’d pestered him for rather silly things like working down wiseman’s stones into beads, or fashioning a snake out of gold. 

 

The soup began to boil and the radishes grew soft and translucent, the danakov moving to add the final bit of soy sauce and a pinch of salt. It tasted like home, or what she’d grown to call home. Sunneva, her mother, was a long time ago by now. She’d grown into a proper young woman, and she had begun to move on. Sure, she missed her mother, accredited for teaching her the first of her tailoring skills and making sure she survived childhood, but she couldn’t be like the Black Baron and the way he said that his family spent their whole lives mourning the prior generation. It just wasn’t conducive to growing.

 

After adding the cooked portions of her beef brisket to the stew, she sets it aside on the roundel furthest from the fire to keep it warm. She was alive, even if she’d had a time where it felt it was just barely living. The hour had begun to grow late, but she still had time before she knew Andrew and the others would be in the tavern. They might not understand the meaning behind muguk, but she still was happy to show her thankfulness and appreciation via cooking for them. Her tail wagged as she finalized some of her preparations, sealing the lid on the pot and tucking it in a squared-framed bag she’d had. 

 

Additional metal containers were sealed up tight, carrying wanjajeon and songpyeon. Typical Chuseok dishes her mother had taught her how to make when she was young. She checks and rechecks that the containers are sealed up tight, before moving to get ready to leave.  She pulls her boots back on, wrapping herself in her coat, and wrapping her head in her scarf to make sure the nightly chill of the bay didn’t nip at her ears. One last pat for Kohaku and Iseul before she gathers up the square-framed bag and sets off for the tavern.

 

She could already hear them laughing and drinking and joking as she came up the steps, inhaling softly. She collects herself  and steps into The Tipsy Construct, towards everyone she’d grown to love and adore and need in her life. It was the time of thanks and she was here to give her’s. 

 

 

 

[Necronome 91]

Author Name: Necro

Title: Matsu's Musings

Spoiler

 

A woman sat among the rooves overlooking the port town. She fiddled with her cat-o'-nine-tails, idly fiddling with it, then flinching at the gold of its hooks burning her skin. She sighs and tucks it away to focus on the jungles surrounding the town, filled with the foul and demonic, and the horrors between worlds. Work requested, and work given. With all that had been going on, Matsu figured she should take a moment to reflect on what she is grateful for, rather than reaching for.

 

 

I came a clean beggar, without grit or tarnish

This is not a fate, but a stumble, a gentle passing

Fire cleanses sin and soul, frost inspires fervor

Now I stand a sequoia, braving sans err

I've found a beating heart in the sea sterling

A treasure more than gold, without garnish

 

 

She later smiled at her work, and sacrificed the evidence of her love to the temple flame. Text made tribute to her leader, art made tribute to Foli. She remains grateful for her curse of secrecy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Ohmshakalaka 352]

Author name: Ohmshakalaka
Title: To Ravenna, by Andrew D'Caligo *

Spoiler

 

To Ravenna:

 

Thank you father for the tongue that no one speaks.

And thank you mother for the goals I never reached.

And thank you also for the lessons you didn't teach.

Might have been fun,

but I for one;

don't think it was.

 

Things are different now, I know that we're estranged.

But don't go thinking that I'll forget from whence I came.

My brother told me that our love is still the same.

I jumped the gun,

I split and run,

before the sun.

 

Thank Luciano for the home to which I can't return.

A hole in my heart for which I'm no longer concerned.

That was uncalled for, but tell me can you feel the burn?

Might have been fun,

but I for one;

don't think it was.

 

Mild mannered and indignant, I will say just how I feel.

The good, bad and the ugly come to the door, a packaged deal.

Despite all of the fussing, not a moment would I repeal.

I jumped the gun,
I split and run
before the sun.

Was it as bad as I recall,

beyond the bile and vitriol

In the term of the erstwhile pall;

it was at least a worthwhile fall.

 

Oh yes you heard, not a second would I revoke.

I'll eat my heritage each day until I choke.

For goodness gracious and the midnight vallah tropes.

Might have been fun,

but I for one;

don't think it was.
 

So thank you father for the fire in my heart.

And thank you mother for my obsession with art.

And thank you brother for the time we spent apart.

Where I jumped the gun,

I split and run

before the sun.

Was it as bad as I recall,

beyond the bile and vitriol

In the term of the erstwhile pall;

it was at least a worthwhile fall.

 

To bored borders and boardwalks I will not be confined
Nor conventional collaterals, nobility refines.

Beyond the chorus’ corpus, like roaming Sho-batai.
Might have been fun,
but I for one
don’t think it was.
 

A child is coming soon, I hope they'll be a son.

I'll be there for him like my father never was.

But I don't blame you, I am just like him because,

he jumped the gun,

he split and run,

before the sun.

 

Was it as bad as I recall,

beyond the bile and vitriol

In the term of the erstwhile pall;

it was at least a worthwhile fall.

 

Author name: Ohmshakalaka
Title: The Cards, 7AE by Andrew D'Caligo

Spoiler

 

The Cards, 7AE:

 

Look up to and pray to your Patrons.

'cause this is their last try.

If you are not careful you might put out an eye.

 

This is not just flawed information.

To this I'll testify:

Something is afoot in the lands the gods reside.

 

Petrified.

 

But these are all the cards that were dealt in.

Our betters never settle the score.

They are all the same, never less and never more.

Yeah these are still the card we were dealt when

Vassas tied up his line to the moor. 

Forever will be an endeavour evermore.

 

Send the call out to all The Vaya.

'cause this is not their time.

They'll tell you story of how the last ones died.

 

This is not a vague proclamation.

This is just keeping time

with the rhythm of the heavens our forefathers provide.

 

Petrified.

 

But these are all the cards that were dealt in.

Our betters never settle the score.

They are all the same never less and never more.

Yeah these are still the card we were dealt when

Vassas tied up his line to the moor. 

Forever will be an endeavour evermore.

 

Vulmar is the king of his nation.

But is he man-alive?

Does he lay awake to ponder what is justified?

 

Ghazan has a'million relations.

In his hands they reside.

Are all of them convinced that he is deified?

 

Petrified.

 

But these are all the cards that were dealt in.

Our betters never settle the score.

They are all the same never less and never more.

Yeah these are still the card we were dealt when

Vassas tied up his line to the moor. 

Forever will be an endeavour evermore.

 

Is this the end or is the end a brand new friend to apprehend.

Can we pretend that I intend to make amends not only offend.

I don't portend to much extend or malcontent your held appends.

Only to bend your mental wends with which I tend to care contend.

 

But these are all the cards that were dealt in.

Our betters never settle the score.

They are all the same, never less and never more.

Yeah these are still the cards we were dealt when

Vassas tied up his line to the moor. 

Forever will be an endeavour evermore.

 

Author name: Ohmshakalaka
Title: Crest Another Hill by Andrew D'Caligo

 

Spoiler

 

Crest Another Hill:

 

So I say it would appear that I have found myself

after the days of steady haze, now cresting the hill.
I can say with confidence about the otherside,

the grass here shows no difference, the tales were all a lie.

 

So sitting here beside myself, back turned toward the sun

Who is there behind me? I am not the only one.

Is it me a second time, your face remains unseen.
Are here too just search out something to believe.

 

Think about what to say,

to bring about a better day.
Only to crest another hill.

 

Joseph went and asked me; “Are these the better days?”
Well I suppose, but I dunno, the taste is just the same.
The devil’s in the details, divorced now from the Gods.
I poke and prod my new facade, and falsely gave a nod.

 

I could almost hear him say;

“We’re better off anyway.”

Only to crest another hill.

 

I cast my line for Jurin, for Gods are not as tall.
I sent too for Harabi, but heard nothing at all.
Did Sigurd grasp the loudest laugh, their back turned to the world?
Should I have made my way back home and wed the Medeiros girl?

 

I wished that they could stay.

But everyone goes away.
Only to crest another hill.

 

My lover is a fighter, a falcon with a smile.
He has wounds and steady hues that show he walked the mile.

He wants to be together, but he won’t hold me still.

So we will go together; to crest another hill.

 

I’ll own up to the pain.
And the rain along the way.
Only to crest another hill.
 

Only to crest another hill.

Only to crest another hill.

 

 

 

(Sorry I left it to the last second. Working hard, did my best)

[Legendary Legend 116]

Hezekai cradled himself while sitting behind a tavern next to garbage. He was soaked from head to toe as heavy rain drops from the storm continued to beat into his his body. He sobbed as he tried to eat some soggy, left over and half-eaten food that he had found in the garbage. His crying was drowned out by the roaring thunder of the storm, however.

 

Hezekai suddenly jolted awake, expecting to find himself in that same position as his childhood self but as he looked around he quickly realized he was in his Spirit Tree office and must have dozed off at his desk. It was only a dream. A nightmare, rather, of what it was like when he first came to these lands all alone as a child. He checked the time and realized it was about time for his guard shift, so he got up from his desk and headed on out to his post. While standing at his post, it gave him time for his mind to wandered back to that dream. It made him remember just how far he had come. He thanked Domm that he was rescued off of the streets, adopted by Melanie, and given a place at the Spirit Tree to stay. If none of that ever happened, he'd likely still be on those streets today. That was, after all, why he was compelled towards the duty of guarding the Spirit Tree. He wanted to give back to the Tree and the ascended there for showing such hospitality as he grew up there.

 

After departing to his guard shift, he'd visit the Spirit Tree's gardens and picked out some flowing, including a few Riverside Wildfire flowers. He left some flowers at the office of his grandma, Vitae, and then headed up to his mom's room and left the Riverside Wildfires there for Melanie to show his appreciation for all love and care they showed him without any sort of note saying that it was from him.

[natureluvr 666]

Thank you so much to everyone who entered our writing contest!! All of your submissions were fun to read ❤️ In the spirit of giving, everyone who entered is a winner this time around!

 

1st Place: @Demented_Delila for the beautiful and heartfelt story and @Ohmshakalaka for the bittersweet poetry.

2nd Place: @Legendary Legend and @Necronome for their passionate short-story pieces.

 

Congratulations everyone! Our Winter-Themed December imagery art contest will be posted up shortly so stay tuned!!