Fan Ficlet Contest

[Fingold]

What the hell, give me Ceil.

Noob question: is character count the only "Definition" of a ficlet? Is it supposed to be in a certain style? Tone? Sorry, as you might have heard I'm an absolute deep fried nubcake about these things. Sorry, reading you write Fan Ficlet got my mind visiting all kinds of places. Oops!

[Threnn]

"Ficlet" is kind of a fluid term. For this, you've got 1,024 characters - a whopping byte of text - to get your story across. The Feathermoon Ficlets project that Samhuinn started a couple years ago was for stories of 500 words. So, nope, no such thing as an official definition of the word or style you need to write it in.

[Alonora]

Oh sadness. I don't think I know most of you well enough to write something that'd be worth showing.

But I will take delight in reading what shall be written! <3

[Elyle]

Dibs on Seylon

[Bricu]

Just a reminder: Fics are do Monday. I will accept them up to 11:59pm on 1/19.

[Bricu]

I have received all the ficlets I am going to get. Elyle told me (days ago) that he cannot finish his on time--I didn't update it yet.

I'm going to ask for people to be a bit forgiving with time. I found out this morning that a kid I worked with reoffended out of state.... So much for following his plan. Things are a bit hectic here now. Winners and the NEXT contest will be announced before Bricu and Threnn have Dinner with Thenia.

[Bricu]

First Submission:

Hit Him With A Stick

The night elf that walked down Willum Street was particularly unassuming. Naked to the waist, wearing a leather kilt, a simple quarterstaff slung over his shoulder. It'd been a good evening, and the stars were dimmed by the full lit moon hanging over Stormwind.

The teen-aged street rat that slunk out in front of him, however, hadn't been so lucky.

"Drop your wallet, elf."

"Excuse me?" Confusion crept across the usually stoic face.

He pulled out a switchblade - maybe 5 inches long.

"Drop your wallet, bastard. Or I'll cut you."

The quarterstaff would've sung, were it not for the lack of distance, making a wide and sudden arc into the young man's left knee. He crumpled. A swift knock upside the head, and he was unconscious.

The night elf walked on.

When the Stormwind Guard showed up at The Pig half an hour or so later, asking for details on the (now apprehended) young pickpocket, the druid, with a perfectly straight face, replied "I hit him with a stick."

[Bricu]

Beltar's Mugging

A rough hand falls on his shoulder. "Give us yer gold, Shorty."

Beltar Forgebreaker sighs. "D'ye no' see th' feckin' boomstick, lad?"

"Aye. I'll shove it up yer arse." Titters from the shadows.

"Wot's this? Cannae rob an ol' dwarf by yerself?"

"They're just watchin'. I'd kick your arse from here to the harbor without breakin' a sweat."

"Then tell 'em ta bugger off. Ye best me, ye'll have me coin as proof."

"And yer gun."

Beltar snorts. "Gettin' ahead o'yerself."

"You heard 'im. Get."

When they're gone, the boy spins him round. Beltar swings, fist meeting jaw with a wet crack. The boy shrieks, staggers.

Trips over a pig.

Two faces peer down, dwarven and porcine. The boomstick clicks. The pig grunts.

"The hell?"

"Laddie, I told ye ta call off yer help. Never said a word 'bout me own." He switches his grip, swings. The boy's eyes roll back, out cold. "Waste o' lead."

The pig doesn't respond.

Beltar jingles a stolen coin purse as he leaves the alley. Squealer trots at his side, munching on the boy's stolen pants.

[Bricu]

Tarquin's Surprise!

"Righ', Anna, be thair soon. Dun' let tha cheatin bastard out 'fore I am." And soon he meant. Jacoby once again stirred up trouble and had plans of walking out on his tab.

Knowing his penchant for fleeing - heavy on drink and short on pay - Tarq made a quick slip into the alley. "Fuckin' prat, s'last straw 'is time." With the opening of the Venoms, the alley was easier to travel at times.

But not always. Footsteps, a whistle; and cracking as a club connected to his neck, dropping the rogue to his knees!

Before it passed, she fell upon him. Black cloth, soaked with something wretch-inducing pulled into his mouth as a gag, and a hand twisted it tight.

"'Tik a wrang turn, Silky?" The sharp, accent stung Tarq's ears as a hand removed his valuables; even his dagger! "Th'fik ya go' a butta knife for, lad - misses gairdle a'wee ta tight?"

Tarquin blinked amidst his pain, brow furrowing as he mumbled, "Isi?"

The mugger blinked her wide emerald eyes in shock.

"Fik meh."

[Bricu]

Shining Sky

The young druidess swayed her way out of the Pig and Whistle, making an aim at the general direction of the Gilded Rose. The straightest way was through the back alleys, and as she had drunken herself into a total stupor. This didn't seem like such a bad idea.

She very quickly found a knife to her back.

“Ya gold o' ya life missy.” The thief was young, and smelled of many foul urchins of the street, but the odor of alcohol emanating from the druidess overpowered him. He took a step back, keeping the knife at arm's length. “No funny business!”

She giggled, turning around and raising her arms. “Don't got any mishtur, but I can look.” She snorted again with a giggle and a purr. With one arm still raised she began to wriggle and look through her clothing. She opened the front of her leather vest.

“I said no funny business!”

Her vest was wide open as she checked the inside pockets, and the moonlight made her skin shimmer.

It was dark, but anyone else watching could swear the young thief's face glowed red. “Oh sod this.” He ran off with a rather peculiar gait.