50 Shades of Fire


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Freabic slowly backed into the cave, keeping an eye out to make sure he was not followed. He quickly raced to his secret place after one last scan of the area. A place he dared not share with the rest of the Birdcrunch tribe. If they ever found it, they would discover his deviancy and would surely punish him.

At last he came to a small side tunnel marked with a bit of soot. He squirmed into the tight passage carefully, holding a bent and twisted lantern away from his body. The mangled piece of refuse served to hold the few embers he stole from a bugbear's fire on the Devil's Platter. With these embers, he would wallow in an act his tribe deemed unnatural.

He finally came to his journey's end. A quick glance confirmed that no one had been here. His pile of wood and the cage had not been moved, and the ashes of his last obscene act were undisturbed. He carefully set down the lantern and began creating a new pyre. He left a small opening at the bottom leading to the small hollow stuffed with dried grass.

He carefully used a fire blackened spoon to place the embers inside the pyre. He stoked the fire with his soft and slow exhalations. The flames were mesmerizing as they curled and flickered in the darkness of the cave. Oranges and reds beyond counting captured his imagination. He could feel the heat beginning to build in the burgeoning pyre. He could feel his pulse racing as he turned to the cage. He slowly opened the latch and reached inside. He gently cupped the bird in his hand and pulled it out. With a quick snap, he broke the birds neck.

Not content to eat the bird raw like so many of his tribe, he wanted the taste of savory cooked meat. Quickly he plucked off the feathers and placed the bird on a spit, slowly turning it. He could barely contain himself when the glorious smell of roast meat wafted into his nostrils. The sizzle of fat dripping into the fire served to only increase his desire.

Finally, the bird looked finished and he gently pulled it towards him. The sublime scent tickled his nose as he softly blew to cool it off. A small trail of saliva made its way down his chin as he slowly placed the meat in his mouth. Quickly, he devoured his meal; crunching bones, rending flesh, and sucking marrow.

His deviancy complete, he lay down and went to sleep. Dreams of bigger fires and even larger roast birds filled his dreams...

Silver Crusade Contributor

I was expecting Jhavhul/Ymeri fanfic...

:(


Flara slowly attached the piece of tubing to the nozzle. The alchemically treated intestine slippery in her hands. She turned and reached for a clip in the parts bin behind her, tucking an errant hair behind her pointed ear, a reminder of an orc ancestor. She dug through the bin for a few moments before finding one that would suit her needs. A small sigh of exasperation escaped her lips. Why couldn't the workshop be better organized?

She attached the clip to the nozzle nestled in the hammer's face. Then, placed the dangling tubing in the small groove carved into the hammer's handle and tying pieces of leather at regular intervals to secure the gut in place. Finally, she wrapped the handgrip in wide swathes of pure white linen.

Mentally, she ran through a checklist as she looked over her completed submission for the festival: alchemical silver light hammer with contact opened spray nozzle, tubing free of kinks, under arm bellow was functional, more tubing to the harness, and finally the bronze backpack harness with 8 alchemist's fire flasks protected within. Each piece had been verified to be operational before the final assembly and Flara had no time before the festival for a final test.

She quickly donned her invention, adjusted the straps, and ensured the tubing wasn't tangled. She walked to the door, grabbed her belongings from the peg and left the temple workshop. She glared at the sun before placing the bronze and silver mask on her face and draping the white cloak over the harness to conceal it.

Flara stayed away from the other worshippers as she made her way to the stage. Curious glances followed her. A few spellcasters in the crowd cast spells to see if this year's offering used magic or to gain an idea of what was to come. As she mounted the stage, the Clockfather's eyes twinkled as his astute gaze noticed the tubing coming from the hammer and disappearing under her arm.

"Flara, looks like you are going to put on a show as usual. I can't wait to see what you have for us this year."

Flara slowly walked to the bronze gong mounted on the center stage. She raised the hammer and theatrically made a few tentative swings. Each swing worked the bellow under her arm, building pressure and pumping alchemical fire through the tubing. She added a few inches to her backswing and used the considerable strength of her orc heritage on the swing that connected. As she had planned, the face of the hammer spewed forth flame as it connected with the gong. Fire spectacularly bloomed over the gong, licking it's edges. Flara slowly turned and knelt before the clockwork statue of Brigh, holding the hammer in supplication. The alchemical flames on the gong making the statue's face flicker with approval.

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