Upon Boredom- Collection of Random Stories?
This is basically what's happening here: I'm bored right now so I'm writing. The stories may or may not be in the NS universe, but I like to think they could be.
P.S. The stories will be in- I hope -huge portions, so I'll be putting them in spoiler areas.
Many decades from now there may be public arenas where there is fighting just like the Romans had.
Storin watched as they moved closer to the building. He didn’t know who this “McDonald” was, but surely he was a king for, dotted across the land, a traveler could seek shelter in one of his many temples. Most were still intact, so it was believed that this King was a powerful man. His power rivaled that of the other King, he of Burger. Their temples, or more likely fortresses, could be found near each other. There were other, lesser men- clearly indicated by the other temples scattered across the land, such as Arby's.
These places must have also served food, for there were also menus inside that depicted great sandwiches, and other savory foods as well as the great kitchens they held. They had to be some form of monastery, or public temple, for there were rest points in each where, if one needed to, one could relieve himself in one of the labeled latrines.
Perhaps the most notable thing was that, while this great king seemed to be merciful of his people, he demanded blood sacrifice in public battle. Every so often a temple would be found to have an area where the walls were see through. These walls, as many have observed, are made of a flexible glass. The area inside the walls would have one entrance, and the area itself contained obstacles. Many believed that the walls of flexible glass were meant to withstand an impact, and that the single entrance meant that while two could enter, only one may leave. The people of now don’t truly know if this McDonald was a king, or if he was a god, but the moving paintings suggested he was a little of both. So, as not to anger the go-king, a weekly sacrifice would be made in the form of one-on-one combat.
Storin had come to document the ritual, as was his job to do so as a scribe. Two men entered the arena, both without armor. The first man who entered was tall and fair haired, though couldn’t have been more than fifteen summers. The second man, tall like the first, looked to have seen thirteen summers. Only those who were young could enter, as was the obvious from how most of the obstacles were too short for a grown man. The crowd of fifty cheered, and a women came out of the kitchen area with the proper food pertaining to the ritual. Every man would receive his own small sandwich, while the contestants both received larger.
When the contestants had finished their sandwiches- what the great king had called a burger -they were brought their weapons. They had been given swords, the swords were short but, as they were very sharp, were deadly. The men stood back-to-back, then stepped five long-paces away from each other. Storin took out his parchment and began writing down what happened.
The things he had done for food and medicine were horrible, but if he hadn't done them he would be dead! But did he really have the right to take away another persons life for his own? How many had he killed? It couldn't have been over a dozen...
Marcus would often enter these crying fits. It didn't matter, he was alive, and his father wasn't around anymore. Marcus knew he wasn't weak, he was alive and, while the weak can still survive, the weak almost always die. It was up to people like his father to rebuild the world, they were strong, but they were careless. They thought they were the strongest, but they failed to realize that even the weak can kill in numbers.
A gang had formed a few blocks down the road. You could tell when you were entering their territory by the large BM's spray painted on the walls. They had been weak, for a time, but then they got strong. They learned to fight, and they loved it. They came in the night, killing the men in their sleep. Marcus had stayed awake that night, reading by a campfire. He saw the torches in the distance, and he knew it couldn't have been from his group so he put out his fire. With the men dead, the gang proceeded to enslave the women and children, killing anyone younger than seven or older than sixty.
What was Marcus doing? Hiding among the trees. He heard screams as the gang left, some screams were war cries of victory, others were of despair.
Rar! Rar rar rar! Thanks for reading :)