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I recall beta testing something you made years ago that was pretty cool.  Good luck with your new engine.

[The contestants:]

The contestants:

Mandle
Frodo
Blondbraid
Sinitrena
Baron

The categories:

Best Stab:
Best Stabber:
Best Setting/World:
Best Writing/Style:

There is one choice per category...Time to VOTE!

This sounds like my deck-stair building experience, where I was too cheap to buy the larger stringers and had to build the ground up to meet the bottom step....

I refused to have 6 steps, but my reasoning was just stubbornness rather than being frugal as I've spent way more on Lowe's topsoil than I would have on larger stringers and extra treads.

My cinematic research indicates that "sundown" or "high moon" would be more proper terms in the Texan colloquial.

While I'm glad Ponch is in the comp, I'm a bit out of it from building deck stairs and the ground underneath (using topsoil) and so I hurriedly wrote that with utility in mind rather than entertainment.

Translation:
I'm happier than a two peckered dog Ponch joined our rodeo, but I'm all tuckered out from being busier than a cat covering shit on a rock pile and so I wadn't fixin' to make purtee writin'.

I've been out of town all week. I need to unpack, do laundry, and buy groceries. Can that deadline get pushed back until Sunday night, Texas time?

Done.  The deadline is now late night Sunday, Texas time.

  Good show entrants!  Ponch could be - might be - adding his own backstabby tale.

  I'll extend the comp until Saturday night.

   They have been removed from the reply options for some reason. 

test

1st - #2 Jim Reed
2nd - #6 Ibispi
3rd - #15 Scavenger

Thanks!

I'm almost half-way through my story, and I'm at 768 words. 
Is that too much?  Should I try and shorten it, or keep going as I am?   

Its up to you.  If you feel that the story deserves more, then give it more!  I say go for quality and quantity.

  Metaphorical.  But the metaphorical backstabbing could include a literal stabbing.

Yep, twas an honor to be locked in a stalemate with you as well.

A new writing comp is up    If Blondbraid doesn't mind, I might use those daggers as part (along with bloody backs) of the trophies for the new comp.

[-> Anything goes storywise as long as at least one character backstabs another character-> Short story, not a sketch story, so at least 500 words-> Deadline is Friday, May 26th]

We live in treacherous times.  That brother, that best friend, or that lover...do they have our well-being and overall best interest at heart?  Or are they plotting and scheming, waiting for that penultimate moment of betrayal where they plunge the knife deep into our back?!

Rules:
-> Anything goes storywise as long as at least one character backstabs another character
-> Short story, not a sketch story, so at least 500 words
-> Deadline is Friday, May 26th

The voting categories will be:

Best Stab:
Best Stabber:
Best Setting/World:
Best Writing/Style:

Trophies:

       

That was a fun round with a great theme, let me mull over a theme and in a couple of days I will put up a new writing competition.

Best Writing: Baron
Best Character: Mandle
Best Story: Sinitrena

Fun round with a unique theme, writing a backstory for something that exists in the real world.

  History is your bag Baron, so I assume you have something in the works.

  Just bought this on Steam, the high praise (best game!) and that cool motorcycle screenshot sold me.

  Also, congrats to the developers for taking home Best AGS Game 2016!

  I enjoyed it overall, despite some unoriginal ideas (insult clown, Trek nerds, etc...all funny but tired tropes) and the overused fourth wall jokes.  I liked the characters and their subplots, most of the puzzles (especially the detective stuff), and most of the graphics.  Being a kid from the 80s and early 90s, I was in their target demographic for the many throwback references.

“Sir, the blacksmith revealed that our quarry is nearby and is still in possession of the cloak.”  Centurion Romulus stared at his officer and responded, “Our charge was to scout and incite dissent in Gaul, not march around in circles way out here with these red-bearded shipbuilders.  This impudent slave has cost us dearly in terms of time and favor with our commander.  Capture him…Alive if possible.”  The officer nodded, and returned to his command as Romulus watched with fists clenched.  Romulus rubbed a large forearm scar earned from a recent campaign while allowing himself a small grin amidst his rage, the former gladiator turned slave that started this adventure had done something unheard of:  He stole a Roman Senator's official toga along with some food and most importantly, a prized cloak.


Lugus knew the blacksmith would talk - either freely or under duress - and so he retreated to the cover of the town's crevices and shadows.  The man had done quality work, sharpening his small gladius and hammering out the odd dents in his buckler, and so the visit to his forge was worth the risk.  The smith offered up a battle axe for twenty bronze pieces, but Lugus declined since he'd only had minimal training on axe fighting and the extra weight would hinder him while on the run.  The ex-slave felt the heft of the gladius on his hip, and watched from the cover of a large bush as the villagers made their way to home to their small hovels.  Lugus chuckled thinking about his crime, and wondered if a Roman legion would have been sent after him if he had only made off with the Senator's toga and lunch, and had left behind the large brown cloak which turned out to be a family heirloom.  It was the most infamous theft to happen in Roman territory; the only other notable heist was of a set of governor's seals which were all eventually returned (the culprits lost their hands).  The former gladiator's stunt was hailed as a prank meant to poke fun at the gluttonous Senator and his luxurious bathhouse, though Lugus's original intent was to make a statement:  There are poor people in and around the ever expanding Roman Empire that can't feed or clothe themselves.


Romulus strode through the town as his men searched the hovels and questioned those who resided within.  He adjusted his ornate signet ring, and barked, “Help us and be rewarded, hinder us at your peril!”  One Roman soldier locked eyes with a large bearded villager giving him dirty looks, and began hitting the local with his scutum shield.  Romulus ordered his man to stand down, and watched as the giant bearded man stood right back up with a scowl on his face as blood poured from his forehead onto a fiery red beard.  The bleeding man's children glared at Romulus with pure hatred in their eyes.  In that moment the old centurion came to the conclusion that Rome would do well not to underestimate the local population to the Northeast of Gaul.


The Roman legion was fanning out to the outskirts of town when Lugus took a prisoner.  The young soldier was showing a drawing of a brown cloak to an old woman, and to her credit she didn't register the surprise when Lugus snuck up behind her inquisitor.  She cackled and walked away as Lugus knocked the man out with his buckler, and dragged his victim off for questioning.  The soldier revealed that his legion was redirected from Gaul to find Lugus, capture him, and retrieve the cloak.  He also mentioned that morale was low amongst all of the legionnaires, as they considered tracking down a slave to be a lowly errand and some of the men were suffering physically as they hadn't been outfitted for such cold weather.  Lugus left the soldier hogtied amongst a small copse of trees; the young man was cooperative and killing him could embolden his pursuers resolve.  The former slave was tiring of the chase, and longed to return home.


Romulus surveyed the remains of a bloodbath.  In the main area of town, or more precisely where most of the hovels were located, torn bodies littered the large dirt path.  Among the carnage was a woman with a plumbata dart buried in her face, a Roman soldier with a battle axe lodged in his forehead, and a local man with several crude daggers sticking out of his chest.  Romulus approached his top officer, Marcus, for the full report.  Marcus pointed to an old wooden longboat explained, “Our crossbowman and archers were using that old longboat as target practice since it is landlocked and appeared to be decommissioned…We found out later that it is some kind of shrine.  We lost one legionnaire, and twenty locals are dead including the village elder.”  Romulus stared intensely at Marcus who sighed, and admitted, “We started it sir.  The villagers tried to stop the target practice, and our men…well, they only know violence.  I'm told Antonus killed the first one,” and he pointed to a headless woman's corpse riddled with crossbolts.  Romulus said, “My orders were clear:  Only people with ties to the slave are to be harmed.  Killing unarmed locals openly like this only fuels resistance; which means they could side with the fugitive.”  Romulus added, “Assemble the villagers and bring me Antonus.”


The tree offered a good view of the surrounding area, which consisted of grasslands dotted by a handful of large trees and a huge bog.  Lugus watched five of his pursuers begin to break camp, and then…the limb he was perched on snapped.  He turned what could have been a nasty fall to the ground into a graceful roll, right into the small encampment.  Lugus grinned at his startled pursuers and proclaimed, “Well, honorable legionnaires, here I am!”  Two soldiers were half into their armor, another was bent over a recently doused campfire, and yet another was fumbling with an oil lamp and a large crossbow.  The remaining soldier, who was unarmored and loaded down with satchels, was sitting on a stump and appeared amused by Lugus's entrance.  All of them froze as Lugus said, “I've tired of this grand adventure, and I'd bet an emperor's ransom you men have as well.  There is an easy way to share in the glory of being the heroes who killed the most notorious ex-slave in recent history.”  Lugus produced the sought after garment, bloodied his small gladius using a leg wound that had reopened from the tree fall, and proceeded to stab holes in the cloak.  While keeping his eyes trained on the soldiers, he then neatly folded up the cloak and set it at the edge of the peat bog.  The largest soldier, clad only in leg armor, picked up a spear and stalked towards Lugus.  Lugus offered, “I'll caution you now legionnaire.  You train as part of a whole, and in conventional military formations.  I was born of the arena, and trained for slaughter.”  The soldier advanced on Lugus and threatened, “Centurion Romulus will need a body to go with that cloak.”  A plumbata dart hit Lugus in the shoulder, though his leather armor partially absorbed the blow…and the former gladiator sprang into action.


The villagers watched as Romulus personally disarmed a confused Antonus, and threw him in their direction.  Romulus glanced at Marcus and said, “Have someone translate that we are giving him to the villagers,” and the centurion commander walked away just as Antonus dashed towards a nearby treeline, though his escape was short-lived as he was cut off by several big locals who began pummeling him.  Marcus watched the men tear into the trigger happy crossbowman, and he turned to his officers and advised, “Our task is very specific.  We are here strictly for the slave and his cloak, and NOT to subvert or invade.  Tell your men to redouble their efforts…The sooner we find that damned slave, the sooner we can leave this cold, wretched place.”


Lugus parried a polearm thrust with his buckler, and in a lighting quick move grabbed the spear and pulled the soldier toward him.  The gladius punched through his attacker's throat, and the soldier fell to the ground writhing.  A crossbolt caromed off his buckler, as Lugus stalked towards the two men who were now cautiously advancing towards him.  The former slave was careful to position himself so that his melee attackers were between him and the crossbowmen.  Lugus offered, “Just take the cloak, your commanders will think I've been stabbed to death.”  The attackers lunged in a coordinated strike, and Lugus blocked one with his buckler and the other with his gladius.  He frantically looked around for the crossbow attacker while backing away, and noticed the crossbowman was slumped over.  The man from the stump was now hovering over the body, and removing his burdensome satchels.  Lugus shield-blocked an incoming sword strike, and with a risky lunge slashed the attacker's ankle.  The hobbled attacker stumbled backwards, while the other raised his shield and went in for the attack swinging his large gladius.  Lugus dodged a shield bash, and blocked the sword charge with ease.  The attacker had his sword hand lopped off for his trouble.  The man screamed until he was silenced by a crossbolt through the back of his head.  Lugus noticed the man, who had returned to the tree stump, lower his crossbow and nod.  The soldier with a slashed ankle was kneeling and had reared back with a throwing dagger, when he felt the gladius enter his midsection.  Lugus recalled that it had been a long time since he threw a sword, as he retrieved it from the twitching body.  He wiped off and sheathed the gladius, and tossed his battle worn buckler on the ground as the weary former slave made his way over to the large tree stump to greet his newfound ally.

The man rose from the stump, and exchanged a forearm grip handshake with Lugus.  As he carefully removed the plumbata dart from Lugus's shoulder, the man explained, “My name is Crixus.  They call me their equipment squire, but I'm really a barbarian slave.  Romulus and his men want this quest to finally come to an end, though I personally don't mind since I despise both them and Rome.”  The man paused and went on, “You know that damn cloak is probably a war trophy from one of Rome's conquests, perhaps originally claimed by that fat Senator's grandfather.”  Lugus gazed out into the misty bog and asked, “So what now?”  Crixus finished dressing Lugus's wound and advised, “Go north Lugus and take to the seas, the Romans will lose your trail…And stop dragging around that bulky and easily identifiable cloak.”  The Roman army equipment squire strolled over to the bog's edge, exchanged glances and a smile with Lugus, and then nudged the cloak into the murky peat bog.

[Sinitrena]

Yes!  The glorious return of Sinitrena and ¡El Poncho! !!

All really good entries, and unique takes on the theme from "conventionally" handicapped to a pimp hobbling himself in the name of fashion.

"Best Writing" - Sinitrena
"Best Use Of The Theme" -Ponch
"Favorite Story" - Baron