Subject: Writing Sample Third Person
Author:
Posted on: 2014-07-09 14:05:00 UTC

This is from a deliberately bad meta­story where the canon characters know that a crazy fangirl

runs the world with inconsistently godlike powers. What they don't realize is that she's affected

their minds so that they are happier and more maliable.




The Chess Museum was a humble building that felt more like a public library than a gallery. Rows

of shelves held glass display boxes of chesspieces and boards instead of books, though there also

was a small collection of books about chess near the entrance.

Some chess sets were normal except for the artistic quality of their pieces. Others had oddly-
shaped boards or were designed for more than two players. There were even chesslike game sets

like Shogi and Chaturanga in the rear shelves.

Multiple tables were scattered in the main area. Kain and Vorador often met at this place. It was

completely neutral and open to all, but quiet because few knew that existed.

Kain and Vorador had chosen the most generic example of a normal chess set to play with, and

were playing with the standard rules.

“What possessed you to raise my sire's murderer as your child?” Vorador asked.

“That detail had been lost to legend,” Kain admitted. “I had merely found the tomb of their most

revered warriors, and defiled them.”

“I hope you are satisfied,” Vorador grumbled.

“It was magnificent,” Kain grinned. Then he sobered. “I shall miss them.”

Vorador frowned, but did not press for details. For most, it was impolite to inquire about dead

fledglings. In Kain's case, Vorador was afraid of the answers. He hadn't minded when he learned

the fates of the traitors he had mistakenly sired, but was still sore that Umah had been lumped in

with them.

“And now we have to suffer Malek's presence,” Vorador scowled, changing the subject.

“I never understood the value of simply humiliating an enemy,” Kain admitted.

Vorador was about to make his move, but he let his talon fall to the arm of his chair instead. “I

wish that he had found me sooner so that I could have killed him outright. Rage had blinded me,

and I was afraid of the damage I had already done.”

“Why did you help me, then?” Kain asked.

“I had a small shred of hope that you were our savior, but for the most part, I no longer cared.”

Vorador finally reached across the board and placed his knight with a firm tap.

Kain stood. “How dare you keep me ignorant of my role?”

“Those prophesies destroyed far greater vampires than you, Kain,” Vorador answered, also

standing. “Either you would save us or you wouldn't, and I was not going to burden you with

incomplete scraps that could be misinterpreted so easily.”

Both froze in dread at the palpable sensation of being watched. Every shadow seemed to stare

accusingly for the simple crime of speaking too loudly. Vorador and Kain both took their seats

again and tried to concentrate on the game until those inscrutable presences once again gave them

the barest of notice.

“The only thing that is protecting Malek now is that we have been told not to kill him,” Kain said,

pointedly ignoring their argument and the forces that had stopped them.

“As if you have ever paid attention when told not to do something,” Vorador complained.

“Though I do believe that she phrased it as a request.”

Kain frowned. He had faced impossible odds, a mad god, and defied fate itself. It wasn't that he

was afraid of a capricious girl who could control all of existence and bend his very thoughts to her

whim. He was simply aware that some scenarios were preferable to others.

“Tread carefully, Vorador. She has given you very little attention, but that may change,” Kain

warned. “Ignoring Malek is a small indignity, one that he may suffer for without our interference.”

“Malek did say that he suffered a fate worse than death after I had left him defeated,” Vorador

conceded. “I can only hope that allowing him to live now will bring him nothing but misery.”

When their game was finished, Kain and Vorador simply left the set sitting on the table, knowing

that the mysterious caretakers would return it to its place.

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