One of them, Minnarisai Minerva Rinnayasana, anxiously walks up the dim concrete path to her high school. In a studio, she dyes her brunette hair pink, puts on her blue-white-and-pink silk deel* and headgear, and arms herself with a sword and a bow-and-plunger-arrow-quiver-set. Inside a hall, she and her schoolmates gathered into several clustered groups, where they quickly memorized their lines, and practiced their dancing, battling whatever fears that may have troubled them: humiliation
from even one mistake, the wrath of their disappointed superiors, or mockery for their failures of the Hypernet -- all of these are to be no matter, for them and their groups to win their prizes.
What became more troubling for them is that their school has been selected, six months earlier, to be visited tonight by their nation's current leader, President Riyavyardirdŭ´nyo. He, and several officials from the Ministry of Culture will be the judges of tonight's five plays: the director of the winning play will receive 50,000 Union Lorems and a trophy, with a chance of government sponsorship to create a gloriously-made screen adaption - what many writers throughout her nation (such as Director Kiondón'yo) desired to see their works become.
When this was announced, some teachers and school officials, desperate to see a Play of the Year award in their school, forced their students into such an extent, that the annual rehearsals became so much of a torment (worse than the exams, or falling ill), that their beauty has been drowned in a current of fear and loathing. Nonetheless, most of the students dared to brave the fiery wrath of their teachers to finish their exams --
But their practices, and all of their chatting and complaints against their supervisors, were silenced by the irritating clangs of a brass gong, signalling all the students present to immediately stand in line, and ready themselves for the imminent plays.
"Never mind, Minna, that this will get ridiculous", Minerva thought to herself, as she and her friends walked to the backstage entrance, waiting for the muffled droning of the opening speech to end, "at least I have excellent acting skills."
The stage lights dimmed and went up again slowly, accompanied by the banging of gongs. The curtains open. They play begins as several actors and actresses, representing villagers from some ancient era, go about their business: selling pots and plants. carrying pots of water, walking and looking around at the stage, or discussing with each other.
The wail of an oboe, and heavy, thunderous throes of drumming announced the arrival of the dreaded "Marauder": played by an actor in threatening red-crimson silk robes (and a plain midnight-blue helmet) versatile enough to allow him to run quickly to "kill" the other actors with his "spear" (a broom), he ordered his nine horrifically dark-armored soldiers to massacre the fleeing villagers, and four guards who fought against the Marauder's soldiers to their deaths.
Angered that some of his fellow folk and kin were slain, the last surviving villager took up a bamboo pole, and charged towards the Marauder as soon the oboes screeched again. After slaying three soldiers he turned towards the Marauder himself, but is himself killed.
Sixteen golden-clad troops marched into the stage, armed with swords, spears, and shields. The foremost of this company planted his green banner on the ground, and blew a trumpet. In return, the Marauder turned behind and flung his arm towards his enemies, and eleven more black-armored soldiers ran, clutching their spears and charging at the golden army. As this raging battle took nineteen men of the dark army, and twelve from the golden men, the impenetrable, invincible Marauder aided his two remaining men to finish their enemies off, before marching out of the stage.
As the actor playing the Marauder, with his fearsome-looking soldiers, descend to the school hall behind the gymnasium-stage, he turned towards the grim-faced Minerva (and several actors beside her) and said to her: "Your turn."
Back on the darkened stage, the gloomy drum-beats of war die down into silence. Eight actors navigate the blackness, carrying chairs and other props with them, and sometimes bumping into each other: their little oofs and "Watch it!"s produced a few chuckles from the audience, causing the frustrated Mr. Kiondón'yo to fume.
As Minerva and several actors waited behind the curtain, she thought: If this play loses points because of mishaps like this, we'll all be repeating last year's hilarious humiliation. I better act properly -- !
At the soundclip of a thunderclap she and another actress were "dragged" towards eight people, clad in white robes, sitting in a row.
"Poralsakára and Diyaságaka," said the eldest-looking member of the council, "we have selected you out of your home-world, Yegern, for a mission. An extremely important mission."
Minerva quickly fixed her troubled thoughts back into the play. She then cleared her throat, and replied in cue: "What do you demand, old man? Where have you taken me and my sister Dizhgk, referring to us in an alien language?"
The "old man" replied: "I am the commander of my stellar fleet, sent by my masters to take people from other worlds, to train them as mighty champions in our war against the Marauder and his nigh-unstoppable army across the worlds."
"What marauder, old man?" Minerva (as Poralsakára) replied in a coarse tone, her words being a mingling of rage and mockery. "Yet you are a marauder yourself, stealing people from worlds just to become an army of losers who die off in exotic battlegrounds! I demand that you return -- "
Infuriated by his abductee's rising defiance, the Elder stood up, walked towards her, and punched her back. "SILENCE!" he screamed, as he lashed out a pistol, and pointed it at Poralsakára's forehead, who glared at it savagely. He paced back to his seat, warning her and her sister: "The overlords in my world have decided that all subjects, including you two Yegernite children, must display virtual obedience. One more defiant word, and I will either end you now, or I will send you and your miserable sister to the yards to be robotized."
The last word made Poralsakára even more angrier: the very thought of being taken to some unusual place, to scream as she will be painfully amputated and mutilated to be replaced with worthless weaponry for limbs, and to even have her vital organs transferred into an artificial body of metal -- all of this sounds like the ultimate sacrilege, turning her from a priceless person into a mere plaything to be disposed of. Could this even mean that her abductors' war against the "Marauder" is even a pretext to exterminate all races other than them?
Poralsakára turned towards her raging sister. "I know that we are to defend each other, but they are too much for you. Let me deal with these vilipenders myself," she consoled.
She then unsheathed her sword, and charged towards the council of eight. "I would rather be cut to pieces in the endless wars of my own Yegern, than to be your violated doll!" she screamed.
The council quickly aimed their guns at their berserk prisoner. One female member instead grabs a remote, and presses a green button at her enemy. Poralsakára immediately froze, locking her face and sword-gripped arms in hatred, and with her right foot hanging in the air. Diyaságaka immediately grabbed her weapon, and is frozen by another "shot".
"Lady of the Seventh Army, you are to understand that for her rebellion, she, and then her sister, must be shot," the Elder berated towards the member who spared the contemptible Yegernites. "Do you even think that they are even worthy to face the Marauder's vicious hordes?!"
"Do not shoot her," she coldly responded to the Elder. "I would rather have them personally trained under my care. Just give me a chance."
The Lady then turned behind. "Servants, the Council calls for the two Yegernites to be re-trained under the Seventh Court. But be prepared to fend yourselves from their anger, and subdue them." She then unfreezes the two sisters, who were then dragged out of the stage as the scene ends.
"For three months Poralsa and Diyasá were trained among hundreds of other aliens in the war against the Marauder," blared a narrator from the speakers above. "But now the Marauder is approaching the Capital Domain, almost in the middle of a training session!"
That was anticlimactic, no?
The last scene opens with the usual gongs (one of which represented the academy alarm), drums, and oboes, as Poralsa and Diyasá rush to assist six of their fellow alien classmates (clad in vivid silken robes interlaced with hexagons and triangles), who are under attack by six grotesque officers of the Marauder. This time, every move and every blow became boringly coordinated with the music, as the eight aliens battle to the other end of the stage.
They now face the very Marauder himself, with fourteen more of his gloomy men and his usual black broom-spear. Upon his very arrival, the music intensified to a howling crescendo, and then a rumble.
"Deal with the others, comrades," murmured Poralsa, as she turned to her allies, "The Marauder's power is beyond all of your might together." Turning towards her enemy, she said "I will deal with him myself."
The Marauder roared in laughter. "You, pink-haired Yegernite damsel," he bellowed as he pointed his spear at Poralsa, "think that you could cut my adamant body with your sword, downgraded to slay all but the mightiest of my men?" He put his spear away, preparing to hack his enemies. "Think twice."
The eight students and the twenty-one adversaries then began to fight, spreading throughout the stage with their duels. Despite being outnumbered, the heroes managed to rapidly kill off the Marauder's mighty, lumbering soldiers with their swords and Poralsa's arrows -- although the Marauder's Men managed also to kill off all the students.
Now Poralsa and her sister face off against their enemy, with the stage strewn with their allies' and enemies' remains.
"Grab my bow and quiver, sister," Poralsa whispered, as she gave her the weapons. "I keep the enemy busy, while you hit his weak spot: the back of his neck!" She found this out after she saw the last classmate slash somewhere behind the Marauder's neck, causing him to roar in pain and cover his wound, before killing off the classmate.
The music picked up its pace, as Poralsa turned towards the Marauder, who is charging towards them, and jumped around to dodge his spear. Diyasá quickly evaded its swings, and ran to the right end of the stage, aiming Poralsa's arrows for the Marauder's back.
This time, the fighting became more realistic -- Poralsa and the Marauder were no longer dictated by the rhythm, but their fiercer fighting frustrated the musicians in making the situation vice-versa. In attempting to carry on the mood, they inadvertently played a slightly different rhythm, more hectic and rapid than the usual.
But not even this improvisation could please Director Kiondón'yo, who is a stickler for his way of doing things: sticking towards his awful style, and what not.
While the fighting raged on, someone at the front seats of the stage crumpled a ball of paper, upset that some "accident" between the two foes failed to "occur". He then threw it at Minerva, hoping that she will tumble over to the Marauder's arms for extra laughs. Instead, she quickly noticed the paper ball, and deflected it towards the unflinching Marauder.
"Nothing, not even stones or boulders could kill me, Yegernite," he roared, as a grin lit up his face. He madly swept Poralsa away, throwing her backwards and "wounding" her.
Poralsa struggled and crawled to get herself back on her feet, and to reach for her sword. In a final attempt to defend herself, she thrust her sword towards the Marauder's heart. But he pulled her sword out of his body, threw it aside, and prepared himself to hack the dying Poralsa.
"Now die, Yegernite pawn," said the foe, as he raised his arms as high as a lumberjack's, to cut Poralsa to pieces as viciously as possible.
But behind him, Diyasá aimed her sister's arrow at the Marauder's back, and fired. It struck the Marauder so deep enough, he writhed in even more pain than the wounds the last classmate he killed inflicted towards him. Nonetheless, although this could have saved Poralsa, the intensity of the Marauder's spear already ended her.
Now he turned towards Diyasá, and charged towards her. But she dodged his moves, and jumped around him -- even rapidly jumping on him and his spear (something not intended in the original work), until she stabbed the back of his neck with her own weapon, killing the Marauder once and for all.
Diyasá approached her sister, worrying for the latter's condition.
"Sister! Sister!", she cried, cradling her in her arms. "Are you alright?"
But she could not even speak a word, let alone release a single breath. Diyasá then notices, to her horror, a foul black mark on Poralsa's chest.
"Sister ... please," Diyasá cooed, lightly slapping Poralsa's pale cheeks. "Wake up, Sister, I'll take you to the intern, I promise. It's just a wound ... "
She then carries her sister's limp corpse. Diyasá then calls for a doctor, who arrives.
"Who is this victim of the Marauder's spear?" asked the doctor, as he watches Poralsa's chest wound with horror and examines her with his tools.
"My sister," whimpered the anxious Diyasá. Before the doctor could pick another tool, she then impatiently shoved Poralsa towards him, and cried, "Just ... save her!"
The doctor paused, saddened by the sight of Poralsa's black scar.
"What are you doing, doctor?" Diyasá screamed furiously, clenching her fists. As she is about to punch him, the doctor dropped his tools, and quickly stopped her fists.
"I cannot, maiden. Her wound is incurable. Not even the greatest medicine could save her, for the poison from the Marauder's spear has already consumed her vital organs. She is dead."
Diyasá glared at the doctor, who managed to pack up his tools quickly. With the drums and oboes flaring up again, her eyes burned with a self-destructive hatred: of both the Marauder and his evil army for murdering her sister, of the Elder and his deceitful council of eight (even towards the Lady who froze her) who placed them here to be destroyed, and finally for herself for failing to save her sister earlier by not killing the Marauder immediately after the last student wounded him.
"Then let her wound consume me too, that I will join my sister beyond!" she madly sobbed. "How will I even survive a life of a warrior without her to guide me?!"
She then took a forced breath, and dropped her tearful face towards her sister's wound. Before she does so, the doctor grabbed and dragged her, kicking and screaming, out of the stage.
"You better not be foolish, maiden, in inhaling the poison! There is much work to do ... !"
"Let me go, you sycophant of killers! Release me! Release me ... !"
The scene fades to black, and the curtains close the morbid play for good.
The narrator then speaks the epilogue: "The Marauder's forces, nonetheless, were not so easily defeated after his death, in that they have lieutenants who immediately reorganized their forces. Nonetheless the chaos that ensued allowed the Elder to send his alien armies more easily."
"As for poor Diyasá, she is not allowed to revisit her home-world, which was already destroyed by the Marauder's forces in a last-ditch retreat. Embittered and broken by the deaths of her sister and her kin, she became the most destructive warrior the Elder has in his command. All the years of her life became a torment ... "
After taking a bow, all the actors went to a row of seats to watch the four other plays, all of which may not as fantastic as the first one, but nonetheless having much better quality and cohesion at their disposal. Some of the actors worried that their play will not achieve that envied golden standard, but the laughingstock-status the losers will receive and lesser (or no) Lorems, as their reward.
Nonetheless, for their awfully-written play being compensated by their excellent acting skills they received the runners' up prize: 50 (100 for champions, enough to buy a year's supply of video-games) Union Lorems; a silver trophy; and a notebook for each actor or actress, technician, and musician involved. At least they had tried hard.
---o---
Minerva (still in her blue deel and her pink hair) and her boyfriend best friend Travis Carloponto (the Marauder actor, changed back into his normal clothes) had no problems playing as the gravest of enemies (they enjoyed it a lot, seriously!). As they walked down the hall, carrying with them the fruits of their efforts (and their supplies before the plays), and passing by the complaints and brags of their classmates, they recounted their amusing and wonderful acting experiences on the stage.
The Festival of Plays is finally over. At long last, they could breathe easy for a wave of glorious winter holidays. Director Kiondón'yo at least did well, and had at least one director who decided to adapt his work into a motion picture; nonetheless, many students cornered him, jeering and leering at him for all the troublesome training for the awful play he had forced upon them.
When they saw Minerva and her friends pass by, they called for them (just the three who went on stage) to join them.
When they saw Minerva and her friends pass by, they called for them (just the three who went on stage) to join them.
They instead slinked away from the troublesome crowd: now they're returning to their homes by bus, with Minerva and Travis sitting in front of her two siblings.
Now, here's an appendix for those who don't get it:
- "Minnarisai Rinnayasana" is Refined Rinnarit for "Thank-the Stars Dance of-Tears". "Yasana" is a word for "Tears" or "Sorrow". The proper plural is "Yasana-rat".
- You notice that "Marauder" story? It's written by a disgruntled postman, in response to his enemy country's propaganda.
- Poralsakára and Diyaságaka are the Rinnarit translations of Plzhgrh and Dizhgk, two native Yegernite names.
Drew Crew signing out.
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