Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Winner of the KoEF Tournament '12 Story Contest

Today we have the winner of the Knights of the Eternal Flame Tournament '12 Story contest. I was amazed by the effort that must have gone into the story and the final result. Impressive.
Congratulations on winning this year's story contest...The Hunt of the Blasobeast by Tucker "Temorse" Noyes.

The story is fairly long and starts after the break...





The Hunt of the Blasobeast
~from the Book of Fell Fables~
Oh once there lived a Blasobeast
With fur as black as night
Blood red eyes, a hard foul stench
and teeth that glistened white

He roamed the lands both far and wide
No rock he left unturned
He sought a treasure known to few
A secret he had learned

He stalked a man, several weeks ago
On whom he meant to feast
But when he finally caught his prey
The man cried "Wait Blasobeast"

Now man was not often
The quarry of his hunt
And little did Blasobeast know
Of this creature he did confront

Man claimed he knew a secret
That few men would ever know
And he offered up the knowledge
If he would be let go

This intrigued the Blasobeast
Most victims wailed in fear
But this strange man was different
And the secret he would hear.

"Great prophets of the king
A future they have gleaned
A child will be born nearby
And one day will be queened

Now I had hopes to be that lucky man
Who sought her hand to wed
But now I see, oh Blasobeast
They must mean you instead"

Now this pleased the Blasobeast
More than words can tell
So Blasobeast decided
This man he would not quell


Off bounded mighty Blasobeast
To seek this newborn child
He would scavenge the land
Mountains, rivers, wilds

To the forest wilderness
The Blasobeast did tramp
And came upon a some trolls
In their dirty old war camp

Even trolls knew of the Blasobeast
And knew to fear him so
His crimson eyes, midnight fur
And long grey claws that he did grow

The audacious troll chieftain met him
In the middle of the village
And said "Begone Blasobeast
You shall not kill, steal nor pillage"

A terrible laugh came from the Blasobeast
He  smiled, a fierce shiny grin
That showed the long white daggers
That rose up from his chin

"I come to seek your daughter
That will one day rule these lands
And I will take her even if
It's from your cold dead hands"

The troll chief clenched his yellow teeth
On his mind these words did tax
Then he grimaced and glared
And drew his ragged axe.

No words did the chieftain utter
As he charged lone Blasobeast
But not long after battle
On troll did the Blasobeast feast

With the warriors slain, to the main tent
Did Blasobeast swiftly stroll
To seek his wife and future queen
The young maiden troll



But he howled an awful howl
That would turn a soul cold
When he saw that his wife to be
Was clearly much too old

This troll was not a child
And would never be a queen
This thing was old and decrepit
And the opposite of clean

He dashed from the camp in anger
He ran hard for an entire day
He did not care where to
And ended up in Fae

When the beasts rage calmed and settled
He meant  to continue his quest
And wandered Fae all over
North, South, East and West

He happened upon a fortress
Of some young Fae lord
He leaped and bound up the stone
And over ramparts soared

In the courtyard waited
His young lord of Fae
Royal guard encased him, but on beasts sight
For a moment they did sway

"I come to seek your newborn
That will one day rule these lands
And I will take it even if
It's from your cold dead hands"

The Fae lord drew his silver sword
With a face consigned to fate
For he knew of the Blasobeast
And knew it was too late

The Blasobeast dashed about
As the solemn Fae did fall
And one by one did they die
And the mighty lord was mauled


For no steely sword, nor silver spear
Nor magic arrow pierce
The thick dark hide of the Blasobeast
That is tough as he is fierce

Once battled ended and hunger sated
the Blasobeast searched the keep
He scoured halls and barracks
And into dungeons deep

Until he found the child
In cradle with a toy
But to the beasts despair
The young child was a boy

Forth from Fae did the Blasobeast flee
Madness began to grip his mind
No food nor sleep nor hunt
Would his unstable mind find

From mountaintop to valley deep
From rivers far and wide
The Blasobeast tore up the land
From his fury, none could hide

Until he came upon the lands of man
Into a farm he crept
He snuck right in the farmhouse
Where the farmer wearily slept

He came into the bedroom
And let out a mighty howl
The farmer awoke suddenly
To sight and scent most foul

"I come to seek your newborn
That will one day rule these lands
And I will take it even if
It's from your cold dead hands"

The man sat stunned for just a moment
Then quickly did he bow his head
"Oh Blasobeast I knew you'd come
And this day I did so dread"


The man slipped out of his small bed
And sauntered down the stairs
And led him to the barnyard
Past sheep, pigs and mares.

He signaled for the Blasobeast
To wait for just a second
And soon he reemerged
And to the beast he beckoned

He held in his hands a small white orb
Purple swirled and mixed
Blasobeast did not recognize it
And on it his eyes were fixed

"My daughter has not yet been born
Within her egg she sleeps
But if you wait long enough
Your queen you could then keep

You see my great Blasobeast
Special is the egg of man
The child inside can sleep
For a very long time span

You must be patient and wait
For once she does hatch
She will soon where a crown as queen
You you'll have one to match"

Blasobeast grabbed up the egg
And in haste he fled
Joy consumed his maddened mind
He had his bride to wed

He waited nearby the farm
He would not leave until she broke free
Time past by for days and days
Until the farmer went out to see

He found a sleeping Blasobeast
With egg clutched within his claw
But the sleep was eternal
As the man clearly saw




Many years later an old man strode
Up golden palace halls
To visit his lovely daughter
Who owned these shiny walls.

The man  was clad in mighty fur
That shimmered as black as night
And cloak was clasped with sharp carved teeth
That glistened a pearly white.

He came to palace often
To tell tales to his grandchild
Of a beast that he once met
As fierce as he was wild

His grandson always listened
With ears, eager and ready
And by the end of the tale
His palms were always sweaty

When story finally ended 
His grandsons face would burn up
And always would he comment
That's an odd way to use a turnip



1 comment:

  1. I love iambic pentameter. I also love this story good job Tucker.

    ReplyDelete