Chapter Text
8 Podiums. Each made from different materials, each lined up as if there is a specific order that they hold. On top of most were different blood soaked people holding equal expressions of anguish, pain or fury.
The first was made from sandstone, with a birch lining for depth. Lying down on the podium, was a parrot. His wings bent in uncomfortable angles, sand sticking to most places on him. His dark trousers and scarlet sweater both held the same iron scent that his fists were caked in. Similar to the wings on his back, his legs were twisted in a sickening position that surely made a crack when they landed.
Bigger than the others, the second podium was made from spruce wood, with dark oak lining and a mossy carpet for the top. Instead of it being one circle, it was three combined to make a triangular shape, hence why it took more space. The man that stood on it had a proud smile on his face, sword raised in glory despite what surrounded him. His blue jacket almost shone with heat as an unnatural lighting bolt struck him down, causing bright white jagged lines to streak down his face and his red stars to splinter and crack.
The next was a cobbled base with mangrove above, slightly frosted as if snow was surrounding it. In a motion as if she was calling out for help, a hooded girl was atop this podium. On the hand she had outstretched was a faded yellow collar being used as a bracelet, the name rusted and ineligible. At her feet was what looked to be an explosion, the fire catching up to her knees and creeping her lower back. Her wolf ears lay low, matching her grieving expression.
Unlike the woman before him, the guy on the 4th podium seemed to have a face of rage, his jaw clenched as tightly as he gripped his pocket watch, the hand just before reaching 12. His podium seemed to have patterns of bamboo twisting up before reaching an oak platform, all faintly smelling like sea salt. The sword that lay still in his other hand was curved and laced with fresh blood matching the dark pirate jacket and shirt he wore, fitting nicely with the coral around his fins. If you looked close enough where his shirt riled down at the front you can faintly see a purple glow matching his pupils.
On the orange platform, decorated with acacia and terracotta, was someone different. He was firmly alive unlike the rest of the crowd. His hands covered his head and he whispered to himself about void knows what. His cloak was tattered and stained, flowers decayed, his hands wrongfully bruised as if he had slammed it down on an object multiple times. Lying low were his vex wings, as torn as his clothes. In his lap was a purple book, one glowing with god-like energy unbeknownst to the man it belonged to.
Embracing an explosion on the 6th platform was a zombie. The podium was a rickety one sculpted from dirt and stone, as if it was a natural phenomenon in the earth. The zombie on top wore an outfit pulled straight out of a 1990s rollerskating rink. Limp in her hands was a stone sword, coated with blood, stuck on were orange and blue hair. Her eyes were obstructed by a device, with a pixilated screen showing closed eyes as if she wanted the combustion in front of them, as if she was praying for her own death.
The second to last podium was held up by pieces of scrap metal and glass. It had patterns at the bottom making it look as if it was on wheels, fit for any race driver. The man above wasn't on the podium at all, instead floating just barely above, with an ender pearl just below him. His expression was filled with accomplishment, clearly something he was very proud of. Along his face were purple patches, swirling with the same hues as the pearl about to hit the base. His antennae bristled in the wind, same as the patches that were soon to fall off the back of his sleeveless jacket.
Strangely enough the final podium was plain, a smooth marble, similar to what you would find in a museum. There was no person, instead a large clock ticking down. It was out of place in this empty forest. All of the characters here were.
Grian fell from a high place.
Smajor1995 was struck by lightning.
Pearlescentmoon blew up.
InTheLittleWood ran out of time.
ZombieCleo was blown up by a creeper.
Smallishbeans hit the ground too hard.
And so it began. 8 podiums, yet 7 people each with 3 deaths worth of memories. We hope this will go exactly as planned. We know this will go exactly as planned.