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Old 07-23-2010, 08:50 PM   Top  -  End  -  #219
Private-Prinny
Bugbear in the Playground
 
 
Join Date: Mar 2010
Gender: Male
Default Re: Iron Chef Optimization Challenge VIII

"Time for plan B." "Is that the one where we set something on fire?"
Quote:
Originally Posted by Balko
Balko the Farmer


It started as an headache. Sometimes, in the middle of the barley season, it was so intense he had to bow on all fours and cry out. But it was a rare, painful storm. This until the fall of 1370 Dale Reckoning. When all the provisions were stored in mills and warehouse and all leaves were brown and gold, the pulse began to hammer everyday.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Everyday.
His coworkers were pissed off. “Cut it, Balko: your petty excuse doesn’t exent you from work.” He was bitten often, cause no one likes a weak screamer. Expecially one that does not work for it.
One night, Balko was forced outside the Worker’s House – the two story building hosting the workers of the farm – and confronted by three angry workers: “Boy, this is your last chance: no illness here, no shared weight. If the houselord forces us to work for you, then you probably end up getting worst.”
The seven feet tall man bowed on him and slapped his face.
“Understand?”
That was usual, everywere in the farm. This tall guy, Jab he think’s his name, is the self elected sheriff and he calls all the rules. A mobster, one would say, but Jab prefers sheriff.
Balko is about to cry again
“No, don’t do it, crybaby! Don’t even try to…”
Jab’s eyes were wide. Not by the anger flowing in Balko’s veins – a victim often tries (hopes) to react – but by the dissolution of the right arm his fellow was using to keep him at bay.
One moment before, there was an arm, a second after all seemed… “displaced?”… whatever happended, the arm now ended at the armpit.
A scream in the open air and Balko’s eyes turning black… “Is this… just a dream?” asked Jab by himself. He didn’t stay to know.

Voices spread in a common ambient in the same way as farts does: from the near to the far. So, the morning after, at the breakfast time a dozen of workers was glancing at him and by the diner all the house avoided him. Just in case.
Now Balko was alone. Perfect to understand by himself what the hell had happened.

In the following days, last ones before the great winter’s closing, with all his surprise he discovered his mind was able to create amazing exploits. Just thinking, he was able to move quicker, to disappear from the top of the oak tree just to land at its roots, to actually disjoint matter with a simple touch and to move quicker than anyone in the house.
The headache was still here, still a disturbance, but anytime he discharged this strange energy, the pain went out.


Spoiler



Winter’s time is just eat, cover and wait. The next spring the door would be opened again, but the coldest three months all the workers are stocked in the House. Every winter, someone dies. Less from natural causes and more out of hate, claustrophoby, other’s intolerance.
Balko was given death three against one. Either for Jab’s hand or his custom to exit in the hearth of the winter to “cool my mind”.

One night, sitting in the snow, he was whispering “They will kill me, they will kill me, they will….”
“Kill ‘em first, boy”. A voice from nothing.
He jumped on his feet, looking around: “Who’s there?”
“Look down. And seriously, boy, kill ‘em first”.
Balko looked down to see a small creature, something like a Imp of bard’s tales, but entirely covered by flames.
“Who the hell are you.”
“Hell? Not at all!” replied him “Abyss is my place, and I’m Firey”.
“Don’t listen to him!” answered a voice. Balko looked down just to see…
“This is impossible! You are…”
“Yes, a small angel. Yes, just like a shrink Solar. And yes, made of snow.” And it was just like that. “That said, please don’t listen to him. He just wants your soul to be devoured by the Abyss. Don’t do it.”
Balko’s jaw was mid air. “This… this… First of all, this is impossible. And then, guys, this is totally cliché!” One hand pointed at Firey, the other at the strange little angel. “come on! You sure are gonna tell me the story of the good guy and the bad guy, aren’t you?”
“I know, I know” said Firey, stepping in. “But the cliché is something invented to make this contrasts aknowageable even by the simpler of minds.” He smiled “Not everyone is mister smart guy ‘round there”.
“Besides” stepped in the angelic one “except for the cliché part, don’t listen to him: he lies any word he says.”
“I didn’t lied on the cliché thing” replied Firey “so the <he always lies> line is unfair, friend”.
C’mon, don’t start to argue, you know what I meant”
“No, I don’t, and by the way, you…”
Balko managed to win stupor and shouted: “Stop it! I don’t give a damn of your silly feud, just tell me what the hell” pause “Abyss are you come here to tell me”
“You’re gonna got killed.” Started Firey.
“Tonight” added the miniangel.
“Anw we’re here to advice you for the best route to keep”
“Yes, we are” confirmed the angel. “And by the way, I’m Winter’s Bless for the Lonely Ones. But call me Bless”.
“Yes, whatever” replied Balko. “Tell me who’s gonna kill me and why”
Suddenly, a reduced image of Jab and a couple of others strangling someone. Someone that was really similar to him.
“Okay, so what? Is this already written?” Answered him, in shock.
“Not at all, my good friend” answered Bless. “If you run away now, you can manage to…”
Firey stepped in, interrupting: “Yes, run. Run away without any miserable meal, in a wilderness darkness and in the heart of the winter. So you can manage to reach the next city which is… what? Fifty miles away? Sure…”
“It is the best route and besides…” was starting again Bless, but Balko asked Firey: “And so, what do you suggest?”
“Burn them all. Alive.” Managing to shut the protests of Bless, he continued “So you’ll have any resource the stores have all for yourself and you could depart at the end of the winter.”
“But you’ll have the burden fourty men dead by your hands.”
“What the fourty men have done for you, lately?”
The argument went on for half an hour, but at the end Balko asked “How can I start a so good fire?”
“Throw me” answered Firey “and my fire body will put everything on fire.”
And so he did, looking at the fire roaring at night, hearing the chant of the wood and the screams of the poor souls entrapped inside.
Smiling.

Spoiler



Alone, in groups, in armies. All the time, Belko is guided by the two figures, the angel and the demon. The demon, pleased by the Worker’s House inferno, tutored him in the secret techniques of handling and exploiting initiate’s fire. His journey led him to the capital of his realm.
“What’s its name again?”
“Telflamm, Balko, Telflamm.” Answered Bless. “don’t kill anyone here, please.”
“No, don’t, he’s right. And, besides, there’s someone here I want you to know” added Firey.


Spoiler



A bunch of shadows, which Balko now is, glanced at Bless. He upped his lips to mimic a hiss. His eyes are now telling him to shut up – in a very trivial way, too.
“You’re the only one that can hear me. And, by the way, don’t do it. I tell you anytime: don’t do it. Don’t kill your mark. Don’t do it.”
Balko is not listening. The old, bearded Waterdivian noble was walking just now down the alley. Two hours of wait were coming to a meaning just in that moment. He sprung out of the shadows, smiling a devilish smile and charging towards his mark.

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Sources

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An unexpecting end.

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