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Short Story Contest #3 - Heirloom

Discussion in 'Contest Archive' started by SilverEx, Jan 12, 2010.

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  1. The Panda

    The Panda

    Icon Reviewer

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    Thanks man ill update it.
     
    Last edited: Feb 13, 2010
  2. TwistedImage

    TwistedImage

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    Bold part is edited on. Italic: Fight whom? Clarify.

    What has Thrall given him? An item? A mission? A spanking? Is it clarified later in the story?


    Friendly calls? Naaah... How about "He heard an Orcish voice call?"

    Who? Garthul? Moojis? Clarify.

    Try dozens, I think "tens" sounds a bit off. Just my personal opinion though. ^_^

    This sounds as if Garthul had gotten a phone call. Try "Who was that?"

    Sounds a bit silly, or did he actually fall unintentionally? If not, try "got off," "jumped off" or similar.

    Stopped rumbling? Was he yelling at Garthul? Or did you mean "mumbling?" Additionally, try "stared at Garthul" for clarification.
    Are these two different things, or the same?

    Sounds a bit silly. Try "Don't just walk into his arms."

    Place a comma after "your ring."

    Deep behind? Sounds a bit off: Try "far behind."

    Finally, always place the full stop inside the quotation marks.

    "I hate that guy". is wrong, whereas "I hate that guy." is correct.

    That's all for now, will read over the rest later!
     
  3. Momo

    Momo

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    Hmm if there's still time to join before the first draft(if it's on the 25th) I'm in!
     
  4. Silly Lil Ant

    Silly Lil Ant

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    It says first draft to be in three weeks after start! It started on the 4th. There are seven days in a week, 3 x 7 = 21. 4 + 21 = 25th! So, yeah first drafts by the 25th! =)
     
  5. busterkomo

    busterkomo

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    I shouldn't have to oversimplify my writing for idiots.
     
    Last edited: Feb 14, 2010
  6. Pyritie

    Pyritie

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    There's a difference between oversimplification and something just being easy to follow.
     
  7. CMarket

    CMarket

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    Hmm... this criteria severely limits me. I was hoping on writing a psychological short story, but I can't really fit major description of scenes because it will disturb the flow of my writing stile. Any chance the entries can be judged not by partial scale, but by the overall work?
     
  8. SilverEx

    SilverEx

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    I can't really change the judging criteria now tbf.
    Also those judging criteria cover most of the aspects needed to review a short narrative story.

    In regards to not simplifying your writing, as Pyritie said; just because your making something readable doesn't make it simple.
    Stephen Kings works are not "simple" but they are certainly easy to follow and read. Nobody wants to read something lost in it's own convoluted pretentious self love.
     
  9. TwistedImage

    TwistedImage

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    It's means it is.

    Come on, you're running a contest based on grammar.
     
  10. idodik

    idodik

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    Another edition of the story, thanks to TwistedImage! xD
    Battle of the Two Hills

    Battle of the Two Hills
    By idodik
    The battle was at its peak, and Garthul Shadowblade swung his mighty blade and split three human footmen in half. They were pathetic for him, after all those years of training that he excelled in, and also because of something else he had. Garthul nearly began to ponder how fortunate he was when more footmen came striding to attack. He used an old blademaster trick: he merely split his image and let them lunge at his copies while he attacked them from the back. It wasn't difficult; he was vengeful after what their leader, Silthar, did to the orcs after the death of his precious Admiral Proudmoore. Garthul spilled more human blood: His entire family had gone out to fight him and his kinsmen but that human slaughtered them one by one… But he's not going to fail, not with the item Thrall himself has given him.

    More footsteps at his back, and he turned to greet three knights charging at him, but this time he heard orcish battle calls from the opposite direction, and Moojis, a Far Seer, smote them down with his chain lightning. He had been fighting for hours now and had already adapted to the changing tide of battle, and did not let Moojis's appearance surprise him. He jumped on Moojis's wolf and they rushed down the battlefield, joining dozens of orcs that were fighting against the human treachery. As they rode Garthul smote down four footmen that jumped at them, and then he felt as if his hand was burning. He did not drop his blade but suddenly felt weakness, and swayed on the wolf. His hand rose in the air, uncontrollable, shaking and surrounded by strange red energy, and fired a bolt of scarlet: at first at nothing, but soon a mage appeared out of nowhere, screaming with pain, dropped to the ground, and was soon trampled to his end.

    Garthul regained control but was still shocked. He did not pay much attention to the awkward sensation that he had gone through, but thought: invisibility? He did not believe that Silthar allowed this; after all Silthar was known as a jealous warrior that never used magic and believed only in the blade. Few orcs had rumored that he called mages to serve him, but Garthul denied their words and claimed they were deceived. Now it turns out he was the one being deceived… He himself had participated in the assault on Proudmoore's castle so he remembered Silthar's face, but the foolish human general had escaped and claimed Theramore Isle as his, despite his cowardice in battle.

    It had been only a week, and Garthul forgot how unexpected Silthar was.

    Moojis stopped his wolf and called back to Garthul, "What was that?"
    "Mages," Garthul grunted, still shocked from the incident.
    Moojis nearly fell from his wolf in surprise, and shouted at Garthul, "Don't you say that word for nothing!" Moojis had been burned by one in his childhood, in the earlier battles for Durotar. It was the only thing he spoke unkindly of.
    Garthul stumbled and landed shaken on the ground. "I'm not joking, Moojis. I think that mage was about to kill us."
    Moojis stopped muttering and stared at him. Garthul could read the deep anxiety on his face, and asked, "Do you think he knows about Garkarath?"
    Moojis returned to earth and said, "No, that's unlikely, but it's still dangerous – he probably just fears those fighting skills of yours and wants you killed to complete the series."
    Garthul looked thankfully at Garkarath, the small scarlet-black ring that just saved his life. "If so, let him come forth. I'll crush him."
    "Don't let yourself walk into his arms; he may have an ambush waiting for you. He might not know about your ring, but he probably has some scam waiting anyway."
    Garthul nodded. Sometimes bloodlust needs to make way for thinking ahead.
    "Let's split up: you help the troops and I'll follow far behind. That way when the time comes I'll be able to show up and kill that stupid human."
    Moojis smiled and said, "Acceptable. Take care."
    "Go! I'll be waiting."

    He watched as the far seer encouraged his wolf to charge and moved away from sight. He had saved Garthul from killing himself in various opportunities: suicidal operations, helpless situations, each in another way. Moojis's wisdom was a one to behold, and even Thrall called him often to his throne to hear his advice. As he stood there alone he thought to himself, you bet you can leave him alone to do his job. And so, when he waited for the right time to charge, he looked down at his left hand.

    It was covered by blood-red tattoos and marks, some of them actually carved into his flesh. He had never understood the runes that were marked upon them, but he knew what they meant: demonic embrace. Garkarath, Shard of Darkness, was an orcish myth from the long gone days in which orcs marched into Azeroth through the Dark Portal, and was rumored to be an heirloom from orcs that became demons themselves, their power granted from this sacred artifact. The everlasting chain of owners that killed each other to gain its trust would have lasted until today, if Archimonde, that couldn’t put the ring on but feared its power, hadn't destroyed the orc that wielded it and caused it to fling through the dark portal into Azeroth, passing out of any knowledge for centuries. Now that the orcs had grown independent, they have mysteriously found the ring lying at the exact location that they planned to build the Orgrimmar fortress, and the first one to put it on was killed in bloody screams of pain. It was thought at first to be cursed, and the situation wouldn't have changed if Drek'thar hadn't noticed the demonic symbols on it. He took to studying it in private, and when he understood what it was Thrall was quickly informed. Everyone thought that Thrall would wield it, but Drek'thar discovered soon enough that the initial physical strength and endurance requirements (the bloody tattoos and marks), which were made to be very powerful, are shamefully too demanding for Thrall and that he would not survive them. Thrall said that he couldn't risk the price since he had to lead his nation, and so the searches for a fitting wielder begun, ending with him, Garthul Shadowblade. He was meant to be the secret weapon of the Horde, and none but Moojis and the orcs in high command truly knew what his tattooed arm meant.

    He suddenly stirred from his trance, and looked around. Orcish troops were still passing by the masses to the main battlefield, which had advanced forwards, and he watched them go and let a last wonder about Garkarath loose in his head: the ring gave him tremendous strength and agility but made him somehow lighter, which explains him riding on Moojis's wolf without making it collapse or slow down, not to mention the capability of firing bolts of scarlet, like the one that recently saved his life. Still, Garthul remembered Drekthar's words to him telling him that the full effects of the ring will only reveal themselves in time. He did not want to think what they would be, and what power and responsibility they brought with them. He focused only on the thought of his enemy waiting for him.

    Lightning flashed in his eyes, and he groped his blade. The nearby troops paused and looked at him, and he cried: "For Durotar!" and charged with them following him. He was yet again prepared to battle.

    Garthul advanced through the battlefield with the troops behind him, and as he approached the heat of battle he roared and leapt into the mass of soldiers. A blood-red flash and two were killed; five were knocked back and crashed to the ground. None of those stood to face him, and he turned to attack the other humans. He slashed them with growing fury inside him, and felt his left hand fill with sudden warmth. With a sudden determination inside him he stopped slashing for a moment, and stuck his ring in his opponent's eye hole in bloodlust. The footman screamed and shouted, tortured, but was soon aflame from the blazing hot fury of Garkarath. Garthul was beginning to enjoy this newfound way of killing when a fireball burned its way above his ear. With a fury that he hasn't experienced before Garthul withdrew his left hand from the burning human's eye, not caring if he will die or not, and punched with it in the air towards the origin of the fireball, a scarlet bolt erupting from his fist. The origin appeared as another human mage that fell screaming to his knees. This time, he thought surprised, he controlled his movements, but in great speed. Garthul was beginning to grow impatient with Silthar and tired of his mages when a bright armored knight appeared at the top of the hill ahead, a noble horse carrying him.

    His armor was brandished as if he never fought a battle with it, although Garthul recognized it from the assault on Theramore immediately; golden shoulder pads and belt, blue boots and gauntlets and a banner on his cape. His helmet had golden edges and wings as a symbol of the Alliance. His sword shone in the sun as he pulled it out of its sheath and lifted it up, and all of the humans gave a sudden cry and gained their courage.

    He had forgotten how pathetic Silthar was.

    Garthul slashed five times and four footmen came falling down before him, one wounded twice; he wanted to end Silthar's life before his friends began to exhaust themselves fighting. He charged to the small gap created by the death of the humans, and that's when Silthar noticed him.
    "Have at him!" He cried, "Let not this beast see another day!"
    Garthul raised his blade with caution as the humans caught sight of him and started advancing in his direction, and suddenly felt the bloodlust in his mind grow to a peak. His skull seemed to pulse with abnormal power, and his body shivered but seemed to be more aware of its might than possible. His eyes grew bloodshot with fury as the images of his family returned to his eyes, screaming, fearful and tortured, and Moojis words, "Don’t walk into his arms", were suddenly meaningless.
    Today, my brothers, he thought, you will be avenged.

    (...)
    Silthar Sacredmane saw the one enemy he truly feared before him. Thrall was no threat for now, and even if he came it would be an honored death, but this creature would surely torture him as revenge to what he himself did to its family. The creature had just killed three of his soldiers without a blink and now seemed to advance forward. This vermin cannot threaten us anymore, he thought. His raised blade seemed to be shimmering instead of glowing.
    "Have at him!" He cried, "Let not this beast see another day!"
    He saw his forces closing in on the orc and was pleased to see that many of the creature's allies withdrew at this sight, afraid that they might be also killed. He began to ponder in what way that creature will die when its eyes and left arm began to glow blood-scarlet, and its figure was blurred by a blood-red flash. He did not see its movement clearly but it was clear that his people were struck dead one by one. The closest row to the creature backed away fearfully but they were too late- soon their heads were thrown from the immense impact of the blade on their bodies. Silthar went pale and called for his mages, but soon he discovered the corpse of the mage that shot the fireball at Garthul previously, and was filled with fear. Whatever this was, he thought, it was not orc anymore.

    (...)
    Garthul did not notice his allies and his enemies alike staring at him open mouthed and was not aware of the changes happening in his enemy until he heard him cry "Retreat! Spare your lives – we will fight them near the camp!" and headed down the other side of the hill. In a blink he seemed to fly there, and found Silthar on his horse, which was galloping in fright to the camp located near the faraway shore. He was alone, armed with but a blade and a ring, he thought. Nothing could make the death of this human more humiliating.

    He charged at the fleeing humans, striking every piece of flesh that he caught in range and left their owners dead or alive, only to maintain eye contact with the fleeing coward. Silthar's followers soon noticed him and fled to different directions, just not to let that monstrosity get any closer to them. Silthar was left alone at last, and the chase continued: through narrow passes between trees, down slopes and ledges they jumped, Garthul splitting every human that got in reach. Garthul pursued him without mercy and did not lose much distance; he knew only the horse in front of him. As they approached another ledge Silthar looked back at him, and something told him that Silthar was not a doomed man yet, but he did not know why. Silthar hurried to jump the ledge, and just then Garthul heard somehow the small sound of a bow's string being stretched to its breaking point, and he had enough time to let the word "Ambush" echo in his mind before he jumped off himself.

    Garthul rose in the air and saw the arrows being launched at him, and as time slowed down he swung his sword and hit two off their course. Suddenly he felt a stab in his lower body, and realized that one of the arrows had pierced him just when he thought he was invincible. Slowly time returned to normal and Garthul landed heavily on the ground and collapsed.

    Silthar stopped his horse and dismounted it, and turned towards Garthul in a tormenting gesture. Garthul attempted to swing his blade but his arm shook in pain and he seemed to shrink somehow. Silthar seemed marveled at his victory, or perhaps his cheat, thought Garthul, and was filled with desire to rip his face off Silthar's head, but was once again struck with pain.
    "So nears your end, filthy beast," Silthar said, "You have ended many brave lives with your lust of slaying, but you shall wield a blade no more."

    He stepped forward and the archers gathered around him. Garthul felt lonely for an odd reason, like a part of him that had stormed earlier was now resting, and understood that the rampage that he had awakened earlier could not last forever. As Silthar neared with his archers, that were ready to fire at Garthul if he resisted, he realized how much weaker and more vulnerable he was without the effects of Garkarath, his ring, but despite that decided that he would not give up without a fight. He saw his family before his eyes again. Silthar was now at three arms' length from him, and Garthul desperately gathered the remainder of his own strength in order to die as a hero, and then several things happened at once.

    Silthar was already beside Garthul, and as he rose his blade to smite the final strike Garthul focused all the energies in his hand and pulled out the arrow that pierced his waist, and stood up, completely ignoring the tremendous pain searing in his body. As he raised his eyes to look at his killer he heard the sound of lightning behind him, and in a flash every human collapsed dead to the floor. It took Garthul a moment to absorb this, and when he did he grunted and said, "Looks like I owe you another one, Moojis," and felt his strength waver. What caused him to black out was the deep voice, much deeper than Moojis's, that said, "Come, Garthul, we need to talk."

    (...)
    Garthul was now sitting in the hall of Thrall, who was now pacing back and forth in the room, and who had saved him from the wrath of Silthar, being a far seer himself. Garthul felt very thankful and slightly confused, and also a little guilty. Moojis was also there, sitting in the corner and smoking his pipe thoughtfully. Garthul wanted to review the last events of the day again.
    "I wish to understand again… Moojis, you say you were the one that alerted the Warchief, but why?"
    "As I saw you burst in fury and striking every ounce of flesh in sight I thought perhaps it were safer if we kept you a secret. You don't know to control your power yet and you are a danger to yourself as well as to others, as we have seen."
    Moojis stopped smoking for a moment and looked at Garthul thoughtfully, then returned to his smoking.
    Thrall said, "I have no offense for bloodlust to be our main motive to destroy our enemies, but your case was exceptional. Would you have released some greater demonic spell that lies in that ring; the security of Durotar would have been risked: perhaps you would've summoned some fiend that you couldn't have controlled, or perhaps even summoned demons."
    Garthul felt the guilt in his veins again. It was a sensation which he nearly and didn't meet, and better so, he thought. "I only did what I was instructed," he attempted to justify, "All the warriors let their rage carry them into battle."
    Moojis smiled. "As the Warchief said, you are an exception. Whoever has to take the blame is not important right now, as he intend to keep you active… But in different ways."
    Garthul raised his look enthusiastically to confirm with Thrall the thrilling news, and Thrall nodded. He feared a death penalty or that his ring will be taken from him, so the news was very relieving.
    Garthul asked, "How will I be serving you, Warchief?"
    Thrall turned towards him, and said: "As you know the battle has been covered in complete secrecy: The Alliance, that has claimed Theramore after Silthar's death, asked me to hide this shameful battle from history, and I agreed, since it would both ensure our Non Aggression Pact with the Alliance and hide your existence from history. Now that the fight with the Humans is over I have time to try and deal with the many other enemies we have, for example the centaurs, the remaining scourge etc., and in this you will be very useful."
    Garthul looked both at his friend and his leader. They both were confident in his secrecy and in its usefulness, so I should play along, he thought. The life that expected him now could possibly erase the shame of the murder of his family, and be, so he thought, a new beginning.

    ***
    Garthul Shadowblade's existence was indeed wiped off the map, as was the entire battle's: the history books were to say that the alliance had claimed Theramore immediately after Proudmoore's death, and many were to believe it. In order to maintain the secrecy of Garthul's existence, all of the soldiers that saw him outrage in battle were executed or banished to their deaths. In the ten years that followed Moojis was mysteriously killed, some say by Garthul's vengeful hunger for blood, and the constant contact that Orgrimmar had kept with Garthul was lost. His story is counted as a legend to be told by storytellers, as is his destiny – perhaps he has devoted himself to his new purpose, and will stand against the cataclysm of Azeroth, or has been given a new one, like secretly bodyguarding the Warchief, or perhaps he has been called by the demonic voice of Garkarath to its roots of Outland. Only time will tell.
     
  11. TwistedImage

    TwistedImage

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    If you mean Silthar, try "Silthar and his kinsmen." Like this, it looks like Garthul's family is trying to kill orcs!

    Remove the a.

    Try "Archimonde, who." Humanoid.

    Proper apostrophe please.

    Messed up tenses. Stick to one tense per sentence please, either past or present. ^_^

    Try "..wielded it, causing it to fall through the Dark Portal."

    Bloody screams o_O try blood-curdling?

    More to come!
     
  12. NearbyHermit

    NearbyHermit

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    So ?

    That means your main theme is Illidan?:wink:
     
  13. Witch Doctor

    Witch Doctor

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    I'm in too. But we can write about any race or .... you know what I mean.
     
  14. ubran

    ubran

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    Twisted, couldn't is right.......

    ok, besides correcting people corrections, I might be in! :D It might be a little late, but I can handle it. :p To quote some person whose name I don't remember, "Fear my leet skillz!"

    My idea is that a nnodescript peasant from the ruins of elwynn after the Second War ended finds he has immense magical talent and takes <no idea for a name yet>, his uncle's father's siter-in-laws father's magical amulet, and go and kills crap, saves his girlfriend, and other stereotypical short-story resolutions.

    More detail to come.
     
  15. TwistedImage

    TwistedImage

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    I know that! I must've read it wrong or something.
     
  16. idodik

    idodik

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    Okay, changed 'em. If you have any more corrections please post them, as I'm willing to release the final version already.

    BTW, I think I'll credit you for your grammar corrections :)
     
  17. TwistedImage

    TwistedImage

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    Mind that I corrected "couldn't" while it's actually correct. :|
     
  18. ubran

    ubran

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    actually, looking at the couldn't you listed, it DOES look like he used an accent isntead of an apostrophe, whatever difference that makes :/

    anyways, off to bed for me, I actually have class tomorrow (I hate President's Day weekend, it means school starts on a tuesday, which kills my favorite day of the week vibe)
     
  19. Silly Lil Ant

    Silly Lil Ant

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    An update on my story =]
    Two races are better than one!

    Lordaeron was once a great Human continent, but today it is home to the Forsaken. Below the once great capital of Lordaeron lies the Forsaken capital named Undercity, here homes the Dark Lady, Queen of the Forsaken, Sylvanas Windrunner. As you know she was once an elf, not just any elf but a Ranger General for the city of Quel‘thalas. During the Scourge invasion she was killed by Arthas, the Lich King. He then turned her into a Banshee!

    However, not all high elves we quite this unfortunate. Some got the peace of the grave. One such high elf was Rivena Swiftwright. She was a rather slender, dark haired Elf. Her eyes shone bright blue. She was a Dalarani Sorceress. She was native to Dalaran and ironically that’s where she died at the hands of Arthas Menethil. Rivena had one close friend, Charlie Grape. He was about 6“1, blonde, blue eyed, well built human. He was very fond of Rivena, which made this even harder for him.

    Rivena was in her place of study. It was a rounded room with two exits, the walls were patterned with purple and orange in a High Elven style. Glistening blue shards moved gracefully around the room from the overly high ceiling to just above her head. Bookcases, which we carved with great care and to the standards of Antonidas, full of mystical books covered the base of every section of wall. In the centre of the room was a wooden table, a giant book was open on an enchanting page. There at the table was Rivena; holding a necklace, which appeared to be rather old, in her right hand. She was casting some sort of enchanting spell on it, at that moment Charlie ran in

    “ Rivena! We have to get out of here! Undead creatures have entered Dalaran!”
    Rivena did not seem affected by this at all and began another spell.
    “Rivena? We must go now!”
    Rivena finishes casting and says, “Perfect, Charlie I know you will object to this, but you have to take my necklace.” Charlie attempts to interrupt but Rivena doesn’t let him, “Take it to my daughter when this massacre has finished. I know my daughter will survive, she is a half-elf, she will strive to do her best! Go and hide, you cannot fail me. My time has come, the Prince of Lordaeron shall take my life but it will eventually be his undoing!”
    Charlie runs out the room, leaving Rivena behind. A horde of undead screeched, “Anar'alah belore! Vendel'o eranu!”, with that she began to conjour a fireball.

    “Here they come! Ready yourselves men!” a general shouted.
    Hordes of ghouls rushed round the corner, “Attack!” With that the archers at the back fired their bows, the spell casters began to cast their spells and the warriors charged. These ghouls didn’t stand a chance, the defenders survived with the minimal casualties. Luckily there were several priests which resurrected the fallen. One Warrior removed her helmet, swishing her beautifully ginger hair from side to side. However, this slim lady was not quite Human! Her eyes, they were a brilliant glowing violet. She was a Half-elf. Violet eyes are rare for normal High elves, it is even rarer for a Half-elf.

    “Adelle, that was some brilliant fighting just then!”, the General exclaimed, “When we have rid Dalaran of these foul creatures, I shall put your name down to become a General just like me!”
    “Oh my, I never really thought I was that good at fighting! Thank you, General Peterson!”, Adelle was so shocked she couldn’t even see how some of the other defenders where doing.

    Suddenly there was a massive cracking sound! The towers began to fall, it was then that the defenders knew they had lost. Chunks of rock fell above the defenders, they began to move but the General wasn’t quick enough. The rocks fell on his leg, crippling him. Adelle rushed to him with many of the other defenders. “Peterson, are you okay? We will move these rocks!”, Adelle said to him with distress.
    “Adelle, don’t worry about me!” Peterson coughs and then continues, “By the time you have moved these rocks, that tower will fall on us.”
    “Work faster we don’t have long!” Adelle called out to the others.
    “Adelle, take my sword…” he coughs again, “take it to my sister’s son, Michael. He lives just North of here. The sword has been in my family for generations, I just want to continue the tradition!”
    “But, Peterson …”
    “Do as I say, this is my last order! As they say in Thalassian Anu belore dela'na! Take care.” The Tower began to fall, the defenders ran out of the area, Adelle took the Sword of Life. When she was out the area, she turned to see Peterson, He repeated those words again, “Anu belore dela'na!” With that the tower fell flat on Peterson. There was no noise, no sign of pain, no cry for help, not even a splat, just a big crash on the ground.

    Adelle turns to the other defenders, “Dalaran has been lost! We need reinforcements to regain and put this city back to its former self!”, she looks round at them all. “ General Peterson gave me one last order before he died, we are to take his sword to his nephew. I wish to respect his dying wishes and take this sword. However, I cannot do it alone, Undead roam our City and our land. Thus, to go out there alone will only bring death, but together we can purge this land of the dead and respect a general’s last wishes! To this I ask for your help, shall you join me, to send the dead back to their graves! Can you take arms with me?”
    Most of the spell casters gave Adelle a scornful look, High elf and Human alike. The warriors still had their helmets on so no reaction could be seen and the archers expressions were very similar to that of the spell casters. Then one challenged Adelle, “ Why should we, the defenders of Dalaran, follow some half cast, a hybrid of both Human and High elf! She is not one of us! She doesn’t have a great race like ours to protect. She would rather fulfil a dead man’s last wish than help salvage what we have left here!”
    “If you do not wish to follow me, then leave. If you are here to protect, then go out and protect!” Adelle replies. All but three archers, four spell casters and two warriors left.
    “ We will follow you!”, a spell caster said.

    Three days later, just outside the ruins of Dalaran. It had been a hard fight out of the city. They were down five soldiers, from the initial ten. They found themselves in probably the least corrupted patch of land. The grass was a lush green, the surrounding trees were thriving in colour. Although, it seemed that way because Adelle and the others had been fighting through a corrupted city for days. “ Miss Swiftwright, how far north in Lordearon do we have to go?” one spell caster asked.
    “I am not sure Zorias, although I do not think it is much further.” Adelle replied. She looked back at her home in ruins. “ I do hope my mother made it out alive.” she said to herself.

    Zorias Silversmith is a dark haired, green eyed and fairly short human(he was about 5”6). He doesn’t give much away about his past, he is the sort of person who lives in the present. He ended up in Dalaran by a coincidence. He happened to be travelling when he spotted a Dalaran guard who was great injured. He then escorted him to the city. It was rumoured that he isn’t Human, he just takes the form of one. However, this rumour was proven wrong when Antonidas examined him!

    The five of them entered the trees. This was probably a bad move, since many creatures would have hid in these very trees when they smelt the stench of death walking their way. This would mean both hostile and passive creatures would be present. It was not long before they heard some Thalassian, the five of them rushed over as he sounded distressed.
    “ Okay stay calm, it was not your fault, you couldn’t get there in time to warn them.” he muttered.
    “Excuse me! Mr…?”, spoke Adelle.
    “Oh, um… oh, I’m Mendell, Mendell Sunbow.”, Mendell replied.
    “So Mendell, who were you talking to?”, Adelle confusedly asked.
    “Oh, no one, just myself. Now what do you want miss?”, said Mendell.
    Adelle instantly replied, “ We need to find the home on Michael Fairgreen. Do you know where it is?”
    “Do I know? Do I know where Mike Fairgreen lives? Of course I know, he is my best pal! Here hold this while I stand up.” Mendell hands Adelle a book, it had a series of elven letters embrowned on it, none of which Adelle had ever seen before. As he rose Adelle handed the book back to him. “ Thank you miss! You are a half-elf aren’t you!”, he said out of the blue.
    “ Yes I am, Adelle Swiftwright is my name.” Adelle answered.
    “ Thought so, you looked Human, but then I saw those violet eyes, quite extraordinary. I’m a half-elf too.” Mendell was quite unorthodox even for a half-elf. He had blue hair and green glowing eyes. The Sunbow family were an obscure bunch of Elven Rangers,(bar this one, who was Half-elf)
    “I see, but back to Michael Fairgreen!”, Adelle said changing the subject.
    “Oh yes, right this way Miss Swiftwright! We will be there by dawn tomorrow.”, Mendell said marching on. The others were speechless, they didn’t quite know what to make of him. “Adelle? Are you sure we should follow him?” Zorias quietly inquired.
    “He seems a little odd, but then what do you expect from a Sunbow?” The five of them laughed and followed Mendell.

    Being a solider is one of the worst jobs ever. Where ever you go you will find death, what ever you do will result in death. These six where no different. It wasn’t long before they found a village that had been destroyed by the Scourge. It was a small village, only about thirty residents. A well in the centre. Blight covering the village; dead trees, grass and other plants were scarttered everywhere. Yes, that means the residents are zombies. “I think we should stop off at this village for refreshments.” Mendell stated.
    “Good idea!” Zorias replied.
    “Yuck! What’s that smell?” John (the Archer) asked.
    Eleanor(a spell caster) vomited. “ That smell, that is the stench of death!”, exclaimed Thaddeus(the Warrior).
    “Prepare yourselves soldiers, I think we will be killing some zombies!” Adelle warned as she drew her sword.

    The six of them slowly walked into the village with their weapons ready. At that point in time only seven zombies were visible.
    “Seven? Is that all? I can kill them all on my own!” John arrogantly said to the others! With that he made the foolish mistake of firing an arrow at a zombie. The zombie fell on the floor and appeared to be dead!
    Adelle confusedly questioned John in a shocked tone, “John! What the light’s name are you doing?” With that the zombie rose and made a horrific noise, “Arr! My ears!”, Eleanor exclaimed dropping her staff whilst falling to the floor.

    Eleanor Norre’ettln was a High Elf, one of the few who did not hold prejudice against the Half-elves. She grew up with several Half-elven friends, much to her parents disgust. She found that they were the best parts of both races. The strong build of a human without Arcane addiction and high understanding of magic(though not quite as superior as High Elves) with wonderful glowing eyes! The fact that she accepted Half-elves lead to this tall, long blonde haired elf with florescent green eyes being cast out from society. This is one of the many reasons she for her being the way she is.

    The zombie just stood! It looked at the six of them. Adelle heard noise from behind, she turned! There were several Zombies slowly coming closer. More and more appeared out of nowhere, this was exceeding the thirty original occupants. These were the Undead from all around. “ Adelle, John, Thaddeus, Zorias and Eleanor, it has been nice knowing you all!” Mendell obscurely said! “Mendell, shut up! Draw your bow! We are not going down without a fight!” Adelle uneasily said.

    The zombies rushed at them, Zorias conjoured up a fire ball, firing it at several. John and Mendell flung arrows in the air. Thaddeus and Adelle charged back at them, slicing arms and legs as they went. One arrow went right through a zombie’s head, this didn’t affect it in the slightest. “Adelle! They aren’t dying!”, John shouted. Adelle jumped in the air and spun herself round. Her sword followed making a clean cut around a zombies head. Blood spurted out everywhere. The Zombie fell to the ground and didn’t come back up. “ You have to cut their heads off! John see if you can pin any to the ground!” Adelle, who was quite pleased, shouted. A zombie crept up behind Adelle and was about to rip her head off when an arrow hit in the back, forcing it to tumble over Adelle! She then chopped it’s head off. “Like that?” John shouted.
    Adelle turned and chuckled,” Yes! Just like that!”
     
  20. idodik

    idodik

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    Silly Lil Ant, your story is very interesting, however there are some drawbacks to it:
    Firstly, the first several paragraphs are very confusing, and are partially not needed. They confuse the reader and make him think that perhaps Arthas, Sylvanas or Rivena Swiftwright are the heroes. I think you should change the way those paragraphs are built, especially the one regarding the Forsaken (it has nothing at all to do with the story, and if you'd like to mention it I suggest you write only "In Lordaeron, now home of the Forsaken").
    Secondly, your expressions are very rich but you have some incorrect use of adjectives and verbs:
    It would be more correct for this case, imo, to use "I know you will not like this,".
    I suggest you go over what you have of your story now and correct it here and there, that way I believe you will have examples for future reference.
    Thirdly, a more minor drawback, you have a slightly incorrect use of punctuation marks. Sometimes no punctuation marks at all: "at that moment Charlie ran in" (end of paragraph), or sometimes a confusing use of them:
    Very confusing, perhaps should be changed to:
    I have given some examples and hope you take my say seriously. Good luck with continuing your story!
     
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