defense-of-the-ancients-outline
inspired by
https://giantesscity.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=12&t=120877
characters
Rokar - village leader
Pao'nar - elderly voodoo priest
story:
a south american village threatened by drug lords seeks the help of a "primitive" voodoo priest and the "old gods"
the priest offers the leader the 'defense of the ancients', warning him that he will save his people, but he will personally lose everything. he will no longer be their leader. he may even lose his life. the leader is desperate, and agrees.
the priest travels with him to his village, and starts to issue orders. All the men are to leave the village (except the leader). He gathers the women, and tells them only they can save their home, and that it will require great sacrifice. That any unwilling should leave with the men. (a few leave) fifteen remain, some older, some young, mostly thin.. looking nothing like an army.
The priest instructs them to gather around the fire pit. He starts to pack and hand out long pipes, which he instructs them to smoke. When finished, he asks for those with talent in the arts, and shows them the shape of the ancients, so that it may be inked into their skin.
Rokar is feeling pretty foggy from smoking, when Pao'nar comes to him. "Not too much for you. The pipe is for them, to help numb the pain." The priest slaps his face, startling him to attention. "Now, this is very important. You must follow my instructions precisely. When your enemies arrive, give each woman a weapon, and a small drink of this." He shoved a large wineskin into Rokar's hands. "It is the nectar of the gods, and will call forth the defense of the ancients. Remember, one sip each, no more." With that he gestured towards the circle of women, all of whom were weaving their heads and bodies to the drum beat, some of which had started kissing each other. "Keep your wits about you, and good luck." And with that, the priest turned and started walking.
Rokar stood, brandishing the wineskin, "What? How is *this* going to save my village." He tossed the wineskin to the ground, chasing and easily catching the old man. "You have killed us, priest! We will be massacred."
The priest was hardly listening to his words, instead looking over his shoulder with concern. Rokar looked in the direction of his gaze, to see (name-1) had picked up the wineskin, and was already guzzling from it. She passed it to (name-2) before the priest spoke up, "it has begun. Our fate is in the hands of the Gods now. Go! Get weapons into the hands of those who have have drunk the nectar. Quickly!"
Rokar was frustrated with the cryptic old man, but he spoke with such conviction. Dropping the priest to the ground, Rokar rushed towards the pile of weapons, grabbing two axes, then gripping them in just one hand. On the way to the middle of the circle, he yanked the wineskin out of (name-3)'s hands. Once at the middle of the circle he tossed down the axes and capped the wineskin while shouting to get the attention of the women, "Ay ya ya! Ay ya ya! Ay ya ya!" When he finished, most were looking his direction, though he noticed one pair still kissing, lost in the paote.
He picked up the axes. "Women of the village. It is time. Arm yourselves." He deliberately handed his two to (name-1) and (name-2) as the priest instructed. They looked discheveled, almost crazed. Their hair tossed wildly, new swirls of ink running across their shoulders, and their pupils dialated wide. But there was something more. (name-1) had always been