A Falling Hourglass is a collaboration between six authors; each with their own designated character. Some of the characters will live. Some of them may die. After eight rounds, the story will come to an end. As always, be sure to let us know what you think and leave a review!


No Colors Any More

By: Tope Benwrath


"This is not my cell."

"It's where yer sleepin' t'night."

"But my-"

The rat shoved Tope through the cell door and he felt his wounds stretch as he hissed in pain and tried not to stumble. He felt something soft hit him, and as the door shut and locked behind him, he reached down and picked up the rough blanket off of the floor.

The change of clothes he'd been given after the Culling - a simple brown tunic and black cotton pants - were not up to the task of keeping the cold away, and he immediately wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. He stepped stiffly past the cell's other four occupants toward an empty patch of straw. Leaning his back against the cold stone wall, he slowly slid to the floor. The bandage on his left arm felt wet and he was certain the wound had re-opened, but he remained still. Perhaps this was part of the payment Fate had chosen to extract in exchange for his violence.

In spite of his wounds, and in spite of his uncertain standing, he supposed he should be grateful. Fate left him alive, and at the rushed and dour dinner, he was pleased to see the bat still alive. His actions had counted for something and a sliver of pride eked through his weariness. Amid bites of bread and broth, he contemplated how many stones he would be able to add to the white bag.

Unable to reach his stones, he held the number nine in his head. Nine white stones. His eyes drooped. Nine. The cold wall became a passing thought as his head drifted forward.

A cool paw caressed his cheek.

That would feel good on my arm, Tope mused.

"What kind of fish are you?" a quiet voice asked him.

Tope looked up and saw a figure dressed in a black dress, light illuminating her bright white fur. "What?"

"How will you swim the depths of this lake?
How will you choose what measures to take?
Are you a shark, with rows of teeth,
Seeking blood in the depths beneath?
An eel that hides beneath the sand,
Leaving death to those that stand?
A pet to be treasured, trained to perform,
Loving its master, pleased to conform?
The water is stirring as you will soon see,
But will you be the beast you thought you would be?"

She whispered gently, "You're free." Tope searched for the meaning behind her words when she stumbled, grunting as if she'd been struck. She fell to the ground and cried out, her voice growing louder and lower.

His eyes opened and the sounds of a beating continued. Desperate to see who would challenge Fate, he threw the blanket off and stood up, grunting as pain flared in his right paw. He stepped up to the front of the cage and peered through the metal bars at the door of the open cell closest to the exit. In the dark, he couldn't tell which beasts were doing what, but before long he heard indistinct words coming from a beast looming tall over the others. He couldn't hear what was being said and wondered why no guards had appeared when the silhouette of an otter walked out of the cell and the door was shut by the tall beast.

His eyes widened in surprise as he watched the otter exit through the open door. In the faint light of the hallway, Tope saw the fine clothing the beast wore - a long, black leather tunic over a dark shirt - not the standard uniform of the guards.

Who was that? Tope wondered, and what just happened?

Another fish, swimming through this sea...

With nothing left to see, Tope picked up his blanket and sat back down in the straw, leaning his back against the cold wall. As he shut his eyes, he made a note to keep an eye out for the otter.

~.~.~.~

Keys jingled. They jingled again and Tope's eyes opened in time to see a fox point at him. "Come with me, Stoat."

Tope gingerly rose, shaking his head to clear away the dreams of fish and free beasts. "Where...?"

"There's a special job for you. Not sure what you did to deserve it, after your performance yesterday." He waited for Tope to leave the cell before closing the door and locking it once more. They walked in silence, soon passing by the kitchens. Tope smelled the faint smoke of freshly stoked fires, hinting that he was up even before the cooks.

The fox led him down an unfamiliar path, winding deeper across the sands until reaching a dimly lit tunnel. As they approached the metal door at the end, Tope could hear scratching and scraping and strange whines and groans coming from the other side: unnatural sounds from unnatural things. Thoughts of returning to sleep were chased from his mind as the door was unlocked and he was pushed through.

"Wh-what am I doin' here?" he asked.

"You'll be feeding the monsters."

He led Tope over toward a cart that held a variety of different food. Portioned out onto labeled plates - the first covered with a lid - were some fruits and vegetables that were old enough to start rotting, but primarily strips of raw red meat and fish that occasionally bled onto the cart. Upper lip raised in disgust, Tope almost didn't want to know what kind of creatures he would be feeding.

After confirming that Tope could read the numbers assigned to the plates, he instructed, "You'll start with this plate and work your way around the room, cage by cage." His eyes darted between the tightly sealed doors. "Open the slots in the front and toss it in, and make sure those slots are shut tight when you're done. Don't stick your paws inside unless you want to lose them." He then walked briskly back toward the main door and stepped through. "I'll be back in an hour to get you."

Without a chance to ask any questions, Tope watched the door shut behind him and heard the click of a lock on the other side. Fur standing up on his neck, he slowly pushed the cart toward the first cage. The scratching of claws on stone and metal grew in volume as the creatures heard their breakfast approach. Reaching the first door, he extended a trembling paw toward the latch of the feeding slot and stood to the side as he quickly pulled it open. Waiting for a claw to flash out or a maw of teeth to appear in the opening, he wondered what was on the other side. After a few seconds, when nothing appeared, he was left wondering if the monster inside was sleeping, dead, or simply waiting patiently to strike.

Tope lifted the lid off of the first plate and was surprised to find a small key waiting for him. His first thought was that Fate might have brought him some form of escape, but that didn't seem right.

"That won't be necessary," came a voice from inside the cage.

Tope's throat made a strange noise and he jumped back, the key dropping to the floor. Unsure what kind of beast was on the other side, he retrieved the key and asked, "Who in this Fate-forsaken place are you?"

The door swung open and Tope saw a tall wildcat with silver-gray fur wearing a long forest-green coat, standing a full head taller than he. "We haven't been properly introduced, have we?" His voice was clear and smooth, his tone that of a beast accustomed to being listened to. "Administrator Hale Seftis, second in command to Lord Cain."

Tope took note of the fact that Hale had not extended a paw in welcome. "I'm assumin' if yer here alone, you know who I am."

"By now half of Marshank knows who you are, if not by name, Tope Benwrath."

Hale gave the cart a small shove in the direction of the next cage, a less than subtle hint that the cat was not here to assist a slave in his labor. Curious what would bring the administrator down, he found a small amount of comfort in knowing that this was not one of Whip's beasts sent to monitor him. He kept his mouth shut, though, unsure where a careless word would land him with Cain's right-paw.

"I've noticed the... special attention that our resident Captain has directed toward you, and naturally I wondered why that walking sack of hot air would find you so interesting."

Tope opened his mouth to laugh at Hale's assessment of Whip, but thought better of it. Instead, he opened the small sliding door on the second cage and jumped back as a thin, hairy, black leg poked out of the opening. Hale laughed as Tope reached for the second plate.

"Imagine my surprise when I find you're not the only Benwrath brought to the Crucible." He watched as Tope prodded nervously at the leg to try and get it to pull back before grabbing the second tray of meat and dumping it quickly and unceremoniously into the hole, picking up the bits that slipped to the floor. "Dram was a good fighter, according to the records, though it seems he lacked your... enthusiasm."

Say what you came here to say, Tope thought to himself. "And he escaped, came back home, and died of the plague," he finished. "If you're wonderin', he didn't tell me how he escaped, nor spoke a bloody word of this place."

"So he never told you how he beat Captain Whip unconscious before leading a dozen slaves out of the Crucible? How he never caved under the bloated rat's taunts and threats? How he acted with honor and dignity and strength, despite the impotent Captain tormenting him?"

Tope stopped before the third cage, imagining his father as a slave in this place. Looking into Hale's emerald green eyes, he wondered if that were true. "He was a broken beast when he came back. Don't sound like 'dignity and strength' t' me."

"The plague broke the spirits of many a beast." Shifting his weight, he continued, "But I am not here to talk about your father."

Tope opened the slot in the fourth cage and something thudded against the door. Quickly, he grabbed the next plate and tossed it in before sliding the metal cover back into place. "What do you want from me?"

"Right now, the benefit of the doubt." He flicked a piece of dust off of his coat and continued. "I have been here long enough to see Marshank grow and expand, and the Crucible grow fat off of the adulation of its adoring fans. I've seen beasts with such promise cut down for the sake of giving the people a good show, and more blood spilled than the arena can hold. Once, this place was a place for fighters to test their mettle and display their skill and fight for ideals instead of fame. Now..." Hale sighed. "Now, it's nothing more than a market that deals in death."

He stepped around to the other side of the cart and the light from a nearby torch matched the fervor in his eyes. "I seek to restore the honor and dignity that the Crucible once had, to give beasts such as yourself the chance to live and serve a higher purpose than mere entertainment. Certain beasts see only profit in this place, but I see the potential for it to be so much more!

Tope wondered if it was madness that brewed behind Hale's eyes, but his passion felt genuine. Was the beast before him really asking for his help to make the Crucible, for Fate's sake, a better place? Fate would just as easily smile upon him for burning it to the ground, but he had no time to entertain such fantasies. "In this new Crucible of yours, if a beast simply wanted to leave...?"

"One Benwrath already left this place." Hale became suddenly interested in the claws on his left paw. "And as second in command, I've been known to make things happen from time to time."

Tope stopped the cart. Lowering his voice, he asked, "Did you help my father escape?"

"Let's just say I remember those that help me."

Would he help you escape?

Tope kept that thought to himself, uncertain what speaking the words aloud would do. He forced himself to take a breath, and suddenly realized how quickly he'd jumped to that conclusion. There was the minute possibility that the administrator was telling the truth, but it was more likely that Hale was a fisherbeast luring in his next catch. At the same time, he wondered how much information he could get from Hale before the cat caught wise. "And what are you looking for me to do?"

Hale put a paw on Tope's shoulder, claws gripping the fabric of his shirt. "If you decided to work with me, I simply ask that you win your next match, and stay alive."

Tope stepped toward the next cage, pulling away from the official's grip. Sounds like he's promising something for nothing. "And you say you have leverage when it comes to this place?"

The wildcat's ears twitched as he stared back at the slave.

"Seein' as ye don't want much from me, I wouldn't ask much of ye." Opening the next feeding slot, he stated, "I simply ask that ye put me up against the most vile beasts in this hell-hole."

He huffed and shook his head. "You looking to court death or the crowd?"

"Fate's a more discerning audience than those beasts who pay for murder. I get nothin' out of killin' a vole who ain't done more wrong than lookin' at a beast's wife the wrong way." When Hale said nothing, Tope continued, "I ain't agreein' to work with ye, but I've no better offer at the moment."

"Since you're asking for a favor, I have one to ask of you."

Now he gets to it.

"Sit beside me at the feast tomorrow night."

Tope waited for the rest. When nothing followed, he asked, "You need me to feed you grapes, too?"

Hale chuckled softly. "No. You don't even have to speak if you prefer. You just need to be in the chair to my left when the feast begins. If you can manage that, I'll see what strings I can pull for your next match." Without waiting for a reply, the wildcat turned and walked toward the entrance, pulling a key out of his pocket. "Remember what I said, Benwrath. Stay alive."

As the door closed and the lock closed once more, Tope mulled over Hale's requests, wondering what sort of deception lay within them. Why would the second-in-command converse with a slave, let alone offer to help in some form. He could think of no reason why the administrator would think of trusting him, or why Tope would trust him. He ain't Whip, which counts for somethin', but I'd still be trading one master for another.

~.~.~.~

The fox brought Tope to the mess hall where beasts picked at their breakfasts or waited in line for a runny porridge mixed with sliced mushrooms, a few onions, and some wilted greens. He thought he caught the faintest whiff of thyme, but doubted that fancy herbs would be wasted on those waiting to die. The guard left and he made his way toward the cookpot, noticing more than a few beasts staring in his direction. One table grew quiet as he passed, and he nearly paused to ask them what he'd interrupted.

"Oh! Go ahead!" a squirrel he didn't recognize in the breakfast line offered, ushering him forward. "I'm sure you're hungry after the Culling yesterday."

Tope remained where he stood. "I'll get my share, same as you."

"Please, I insist!" He stepped around Tope, standing proudly behind him in line. Tope was ready to ignore the gesture when he heard the beast whisper behind him, "I heard you killed one of the volunteers and beat another half to death."

Not wanting to summon the memories of yesterday, he replied, "What's done is done."

Tope could practically feel the beast breathing against his neck as the squirrel continued to whisper, "Everyone I heard from says you're a good fighter, and... and I was w-wondering if you'd be willing to train me."

Sighing, the stoat stepped forward in line. "I've enough t' worry about without gettin' involved with some other beast."

"But I heard you helped other beasts during the Culling. I could really-"

Tope faced the beast, taking note of his black eye, missing right ear, and a patch of skin on his left cheek that looked like the fur had been burned off. A hopeful grin spread across the squirrel's face, displaying a broken tooth. What did you do to land you in this state? he couldn't help but wonder. Looks like a newt could beat you down. Wondering what Fate was throwing at him, he stared into the squirrel's eyes and said, "I can't promise anything, but I'll try to help ye as I can."

The beast nodded. "So how do you-?"

"I'm not goin' to be helpin' you this minute, so save your breath."

As he reached forward for a shallow bowl of porridge, a bluejacket standing nearby turned to the server and stated, "You gonna skimp on the Throatcrusher's breakfast?"

"I thought 'e was called the Iron Club," his partner corrected.

"Well, 'e already strangled two beasts, least we know of."

Tope repressed a sigh as the server ladled another scoop onto the plate, forcing him to carry it carefully toward an empty patch of floor while the guards continued to throw out silly monikers for him. "Bloody Angel, seein' as 'e saved that winged rat!... Rage Killer!... Face Stomper!"

He walked to the far side of the room while the two continued to entertain each other with stupid names. Giving him a title only tied him more firmly to the Crucible, bringing him further into the spotlight. He wanted little more than to not be noticed, but judging by the handful of beasts who were coming over to sit with him, Fate had other plans.

"Mind if we sit with you?" the squirrel with the missing ear asked.

Go away. He shrugged and dug into the porridge.

Tope spent the rest of the day primarily annoyed. Between beasts wanting him to reenact his victory over the pine marten, and a few asking him how to fight against a larger opponent or how to handle somebeast biting them, he felt Fate drawing him further into this wretched world. Unwilling to risk her ire, he tried to give a few beasts some pointers, all the while doubting it would help them in the end. He also had to resist shutting up his "fans" as he helped construction workers shovel chunks of rock into wheelbarrows to be carted off, eager to hear his tale of the Culling.

He was almost grateful to be back in his cell when night came, the right one this time. Breathing a sigh of relief, he grabbed the bags from under a small pile of broken stones that he'd covered with straw, counting yesterday's seven stones into the white bag and considering what he'd earned that day.

A guard entered the dark room with a candle and Tope listened as he checked the locks on the cells to make sure they were secure. Accustomed to this routine, he didn't bother looking up until he heard the guard call out, "Cells are secure, hmm."

Looking toward the entryway, he saw a bluejacket head toward the doorway, brown quills peeking out through his uniform. As he walked, Tope watched the hedgehog's uneven gait, his right footpaw lifting slightly higher than the left. As the door to the room closed, he heard a quiet laugh come from the other side before the guard called to the slaves, "Sleep well, hmm."

Tope ran up to the bars of his cell and watched as the light of the guards' candles wandered away, resisting the urge to call the guards back.

August... He's here.