August 29th Topic 'Scintillating'

[Tehya]

This weeks topic is 'Scintillating' displaying dazzling spirit and clever wit; shining brightly,sparkling, dazzling, brilliant, amusing, entertaining, clever!

Art, Stories, Poems and Photography can portray any of those definitions above.

Everyone is welcome to post their work here. Please do come back time to time to check on the art and stories and comment. Recognition of the artist's time and talent is always welcome.

[Stormbringer]

Best one that comes to mind. Sorry I don't have time to do a better one.

[Szat]

It had no color at first.

But it needed no color. It was bright, radiant, and filled with a fading vitality and life that it was difficult to put the finger on. But its mesmerizing glow continued to reflect and refract the madness that swirled around it, becoming a single, fixed point of goodness and hope admist so much hatred and destruction. The warmth of it spilled inside Deacon as he stared listlissly, struggling to breathe for more than one reason while the lovely light shimmered and turned red.

Turned red. The thought shot through Deacon's concussed mind like a flaming arrow, and finally he began to gasp, vaguely aware that someone or something was shaking him violently, yelling and trying very hard to wrest him from the hypnosis that the red glow infected him with. Deacon choked out some kind of sound, and this seemed to encourage the presence near him while he clawed his way back to reality.

Ash, soot, and dirt hung in the air like a malevolent fog, combining with the cacophany of screams, battle cries, and whistling arrows to make Deacon's return to sanity jagged and jarring, but the yelling soldier who grasped him seemed familiar. Deacon blinked and furrowed his brow as he realized the corpse a few feet away from him was familiar was well - or would've been had it still had what could properly be called a head. It had been ripped to ribbons, Deacon somehow knew, by the shrapnel of a trebuchet impact.

"Sergeant!" The soldier almost shrieked at him, panic burning in his eyes while Deacon realized with a turning stomach that the beautiful glow he'd been admiring was only a rather large pool of blood. Not his, though, and that was something. "Sergeant! They'll be here any minute!", the soldier, hardly older than Deacon's son, cried desperately. "Who?..." Deacon managed to choke out, coughing up a lungfull of ash. "Enemy cavalry! The lines broke a quarter mile from the gates! They're flanking us!"

Something clicked inside Deacon's mind, and he picked himself up from where he'd been lying in a crater, barely having escaped the fate of his now headless lieutenant. Electric urgency jolted into his veins, and Deacon clutched at the side of his ringing head with a scowl. With a wince he looked at his hand while the boy yanked him to his feet, looking relieved to have finally roused him. He'd been in enough scrapes to know his head would close up soon enough, but it wouldn't get the chance if they shattered under the cavalry advance.

"Call those two pikemen regiments back from the ridge. You tell them the general himself ordered it if you have to, but you get them here!" He barked at the youth, who looked stunned only for a moment, and then scampered off as quick as his feet could carry him. Deacon looked up for the first time, seeing the glittering arrows streaking across the black night sky. He could not see the city his machines were sieging for all the smoke and dirt kicked up in the air, but he knew it was close enough that the cavalry would be upon them in moments.

"Oh, no you don't!" He barks at a nearby solider who had been bolting away from one of Deacon's eerily still trebuchets. There were only two left, but a few more breaches in the city's wall could make all the difference. He practically tossed the terrified soldier towards the towering siege engine. "I'll run you through myself if you don't get back on station. You two! Congratulations, you're a lobber crew now."

Deacon ignored the pain and debilitating exhaustion of his own body, rallying a nearly broken siege regiment and somehow willing the two remaining trebuchets to life within minutes. The first shot fired from them ellicited a small cry of hope from the men, but Deacon knew it would be for nothing if those pikemen didn't arrive. He allowed himself a brief reprieve, watching the massive stone payload gently sailing through the darkened sky, belying the havoc it would wreak when it collided with the city's walls.

His concussed reverie was shattered by the sound of heavy movement, and Deacon breathed a sigh of relief when he realized they were footfalls and not hoofbeats. He strode out to meet the pikemen, looking relatively fresh under the circumstances, their long instruments of death bobbing to and fro while they marched. Their lieutenant nodded to him and approached while they took positions. "The general himself asked us here? I'd thought communications with the fron-" but Deacon did not let him finish. "We've got cavalry inbound at any moment and no answer for it. So unless you want to explain to your gods that at least you always followed orders, I'd suggest you form up. You can court martial me after we aren't dead." Deacon paused, clearing his throat and noting the man's superior rank. "...sir." He finished reluctantly.

The lieutenant looked livid, but he was also clearly a man of some combat experience, and after casting a sour glare to Deacon he turned and began barking to his men to organize and prepare for an attack. Deacon almost collapsed once this thing had been done, listening to the rhythmic thumping, grinding, and twisting of the siege engines he had built. The wood snarled out ruthless groans as it sent shot after shot through the black clouds of ash. Deacon watched, and for a very brief moment the soot cleared, the wind kicked up, and the view to the city was revealed. He gasped.

A sight more gorgeous than he'd ever seen was laid out before him - standing amidst all the violence and butchery was the city, bright and warm and scintillating with an ethereal beauty he could never have imagined. The glow of it was overhwhelming, and Deacon smiled softly as he drank in the waves of twinkling radiance. But it was not the city lights that had created this luminous display - it was the fires consuming it. Deacon's trebuchets had torn open the wall, letting an endless tide of brave soldiers and hungry mercenaries within. The city burned, and it burned because of him; it burned for him.

It was no doubt the concussion that had made the twisted scene somehow magical, but he would later come to realize it was one of the most important feelings in his life. It was a feeling, Deacon realized while he gaped at the city's final work of art, that he would siege heaven itself to have again. The haunting glimmer bewitched him even as the vibration of approaching hoofbeats coursed into his legs. He grasped at his rusted sabre in his sheath and grinned, determined that this would not be the last city to have his scintillating light shone down upon it.

[Tehya]

Two great pieces of work. Great lighting in this picture SB, such pretty hair and perky boobs she has.

Deacon where have you been? This story is a great read, thank you very much, plus it tells a lot about your new character. Hope you write more as the challenges go on.

[miyuka]

ohh what a lovely picture and story! I'm too embarrassed to add any of my scintillating pics, sorry!

[Tehya]

aww do it Miyuka!

[Ehlanna]

Not that happy with it, but ..

[Tehya]

I certainly like it, especially how the person is in the background and the sparkly parts and dragon stand out. Hit right on the topic.