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Short Story Contest #3 - Heirloom

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

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  1. Silly Lil Ant

    Silly Lil Ant

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    I would assume so, as we can have fictional characters! For instance, It would be rather silly if you used Illidan's twinblade things when your has never even heard or met Illidan!
     
  2. NearbyHermit

    NearbyHermit

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    Illidan is not fictional, and his blades represent a ''valid'' heirloom !

    But I understand what you are saying:wink:

    I've decided write about an object based on a real Warcraft character,Azshara, at the same time I'll come up with something rather original .
     
  3. Crazy Cow

    Crazy Cow

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    Part three of my story:
    Part 3

    After several more minutes of walking and climbing, Honicora and Mourg came out of the valleys of the Thousand Needles and came out onto the main stretch of the Barrens. Off in the distance, about a mile away from their current position, was a large cluster of tents.
    “That‘s our village, there,” Mourg said. Despite his wounds, he looked like he would make it. Setting off again, they were quickly noticed by the scouts and were met by a small party. Taking Mourg off Honicora and carrying him to one of the tents, several warriors stayed with Honicora and started to ask her about their short journey. After detailing how she found Mourg, Honicora was about to start on the skirmish with the Harpies when several war whoops interrupted her.
    Turning about and drawing her axe, Honicora saw a group of Centaur riding towards them. Luckily, it wasn’t a full war party, but about a dozen individuals, likely on a raid. The warriors around her moved to meet them, and Honicora ran right behind them.
    As the Bloodhoof warriors spread out to meet the centaur, Honicora met three of the raiders herself. She met the first one’s overhead chop with her axe, shattering the shoddy weapon and disarming her foe. The second centaur stabbed at her exposed side, and despite her jump back he still grazed her. He jumped forward for another stab, but met Honicora’s sweep at the knees, sending him screaming to the ground. As she recovered and prepared to finish him, Honicora was hit in the side of the head by the third Centaur. Dazed and temporarily blinded, she was hit in the small of the back and sent sprawling to the ground, loosing her axe in the process. The marauder put his hoof on her back, grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head up. Displaying a filthy, blood-stained knife, he grinned and stabbed at her neck.
    Slamming her head to the ground and pulling the centaur’s hand with it, the stab went astray and instead went through his wrist. Crying out in pain and letting go of Honicora, the Centaur stumbled back. Honicora picked up her axe from the ground and smashed the hilt into his face, sending him back further and bleeding from two places. Swinging hard, Honicora nearly severed his torso from his body, killing him in the process. Tearing it free, she turned to see how the rest of the battle was going. Reinforcements from the Bloodhoof camp had arrived, along with the mighty figure of Cairne Bloodhoof himself. The marauders were all either dead or fleeing, and the Tauren were victorious. Not without a price, however; Honicora could see a least two Tauren bodies, both from the first group that had met her. Turning to the still-living but legless Centaur, she walked over and stomped on his head, silencing the combination of curses and damnations he was throwing at her. Cleaning her axe and hoof, she was about to seek out Chieftain Bloodhoof when he came to her.
    “Greetings, sister. You are the one who brought back Mourg, yes?”
    Bowing her head in respect, she replied, “Yes, Chieftain. I found him in the canyons of Thousand Needles after he was attacked by a centaur raid.”
    Sighing heavily, Chieftain Cairne turned to look at the dead Centaur attackers, and the bodies of three warriors being carried into the village.
    “Many good Tauren have been slain by these Centaur demons. I am grateful that Mourg did not become another of those lost. Do you know what his mission was?”
    Nodding, she said, “His group was looking for supplies. I have heard that you are leaving for the coast.”
    “Yes, we are. I am taking my tribe to the shores of the Great Sea, in the hopes of escaping from these beasts.” Gesturing towards the dead Centaur, he continued. “For years, we have been hounded by these mongrels, and I will not see my tribe die out like so many others have.” Looking at Honicora, he asked, “Where have you come from, sister? You don‘t bear the symbol of any tribe I know of.”
    “I am Honicora Windrider, the last of the Windrider clan. The rest were killed by the Stonehoof Centaur.” After a moment, she added, “I would like to come with you, Chieftain. I don‘t want to see any more Tauren be destroyed like the Windriders. Would you accept me into your tribe?”
    After a moment of thought, Chieftain Bloodhoof agreed. “You are welcome to join the Bloodhoof, Honicora. As long as you hold your own in some way, we will accept you into the tribe. And on this journey, it seems we will need all the hands we can get.” Turning to the village and walking off, the Chieftain called back, “We will be leaving in a few days, so there is no need for you to make a tent for yourself. Just join in and help any way you can.” Honicora hesitated for a moment. It had been eleven years since she was last in any kind of Tauren community, and she didn’t know how well she would be able to fit in. Looking back at the desert of the Barrens and thinking about her solitary tent in the mountains, she made her decision. Turning back to the Bloodhoof village, she walked after Chieftain Bloodhoof.

    As for your question, creating a heirloom of your own is much easier because you don't have to worry about messing up lore. If you used Illidan's Warglaves, for example, you would need to make sure they end up back with Illidan in Outland by the end of your story. It would be doable, but would require more attention.
     
  4. TwistedImage

    TwistedImage

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    Okay Witch, I read the first line of your story, and I can say this much: You'll never be a writer.

    If you want to write a story, the first thing you need is a good understanding of the language you're writing in, which you lack, that's glaringly obvious.
     
  5. Crazy Cow

    Crazy Cow

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    Witch Doctor:
    Please use hidden tags ([Hidden*=StoryTitle][/Hidden]) so that the page is smaller. The first part of your story is C&P from Blizzard's story, and while it might be necessary information for your story I think you should remove it. Other than that, it seems like a decent story, but beware of lore contradictions: make certain that the Echo Isles are either created by you or end up in their current state before your story ends, or you will lose points for lore.
     
  6. Witch Doctor

    Witch Doctor

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    If I stay to think you are right :D it's not my vocation. But you can't judge me that I try.
    And Twisted.... I agree with you. :cute:
     
  7. Crazy Cow

    Crazy Cow

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    Alright, everyone. You think my story is predictable and such? Here is part four.
    Part Four

    Several days went by. Honicora generally made herself useful, going on hunting trips and helping load the Kodo for travel. After several days, Chieftain Bloodhoof announced that the tribe was ready.
    “Gather your possessions and prepare yourselves for the road ahead, brothers and sisters,” he called out. “Today, the Earth Mother guides us along the path to survival and peace. The supplies are ready and the Kodo packed; we are ready to leave. If any of you wish to stay here, then you will be given your share of supplies and will be free to go.” No one took up the Chieftain on his offer.
    “Very well. The sick, the old and young will ride the Kodo, while the rest walk beside them. We will be traveling south, to the coast. Follow my lead, and do not hesitate to call out for rest if you need it.” With the short speech over, he turned and started walking. The caravan of a dozen Kodo and sixty Tauren followed, with Honicora walking alongside with a pack of herbs and bandages. The food and water were on the Kodo, with the lighter things carried by individuals to save space. Several elder Tauren were riding the Kodo at the front, with the other Kodo loaded with Tauren wounded by the Centaur. Mourg was only a few Kodo in front of Honicora, and it looked like he was doing fine. As the last Tauren left their village, Honicora turned and focused on watching for the Centaur raiders that would undoubtedly find the caravan.
    For two days, the caravan was unhindered by any danger, Centaur or otherwise. Honicora was nervous about the lack of Centaur, and took every opportunity to serve on watch duty that she could. As the barren desert slowly gave way to the trees and wildlife that indicated a coastal region, the caravan was still unchallenged. As the fifth day drew to an end and the caravan was stopped again, Honicora volunteered for the first watch of the night. Settling down to watch the northern flank, Honicora put her axe on her lap and waited.
    After almost two hours, towards the end of her shift, Honicora saw something moving towards the camp. Taking a makeshift flare - a long stick with dry leaves wrapped on the end - Honicora lit it and threw it into the darkness. It landed a bit off Honicora’s mark, but it still lit up the features of at least two Centaur. Letting out a cry to alert the other sentries, Honicora picked up her axe and prepared to battle.
    She was met not with Centaur foes, but an arrow. Striking her shoulder and knocking her back, she realized her mistake too late. The fire outlined her perfectly for the centaur, a perfect shot for archers. Tearing the arrow out of her shoulder, Honicora leapt to the side as more arrows were shot at her. She ran to the location of her thrown flare, where an archer was still standing and looking for Honicora. He saw her, but too late - once her axe was already swinging. Connecting with his shoulder, the blow crippled his arm and crushed his bow. Unfortunately, his cries alerted the other archers to her presence. An arrow slashed by her ear, close to taking her out. Diving to the side, she rolled up and smashed into another Centaur. With such close quarters, Honicora hit her opponent in the side of the face with a hook to the jaw. Pushing him back, Honicora kicked him in the chest, bowling him over. She swung an overhead chop down on him, smashing into something. He stopped cursing, however, so Honicora turned and looked for another opponent.
    The perimeter of the Tauren camp was being ringed with warriors, with sounds of fighting coming from several places on the line. Chieftain Bloodhoof was calling orders to the defenders.
    “Hold your formation! The Kodo must be protected!” he called out. Figuring that she would do better on the perimeter than wandering about out here, Honicora started running to a slight gap in the line, but stumbled over something in the dirt. Receiving a mouthful of sand, she spat it out, only to have a spear stab into the ground a foot away from her head. Kicking up, she hit something and received a cry of pain, and scrambling up she swung wide with her axe. It cleaved through the belly of her opponent, who cried out, clutching his stomach, and fell to the ground. Honicora froze; he fell to the ground on two legs. Dropping her axe and bending down, she saw the outline of horns and a snout. Coughing something warm onto her hand, he fell limp. Honicora was stunned into inaction until several Tauren stumbled on her.
     
    Last edited: Feb 22, 2010
  8. TwistedImage

    TwistedImage

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    Crazy_Cow, I'd recommend you wrote "The sick, the old and the young" rather than "The sick, old and young." Like this, it looks like the sick are both old and young at the same time D:
     
  9. Crazy Cow

    Crazy Cow

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    Ah, I missed that. Thanks.
     
  10. idodik

    idodik

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    CC, when are your releasing the full edition of your story? I'd like to read it but I don't want to scroll through all the posts to find all the different parts.
     
  11. NearbyHermit

    NearbyHermit

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    Guys,let's be friendly :cool:

    Also, please review mine as well, I want a review to the bone and I want you guys to cut trough meat !

    To Azshara and beneath
    It was foretold that those who venture in the mysterious unknown are quickly swallowed by it.
    Countless have been succumbed to its foul will, none survived to see broad daylight.The distorted scream of anguish silently whispering to your deafened ear. The glitter of your shaded hope, sundered by the incomprehensible darkness. If you stare long into the abyss,the abyss stares back into you ...

    That northeastern beacon, the wretched spike that overshadows the pure land with its deformed shape. The talon that surfaces above the clouds, as if the earth rejects it, but cannot escape its parasitic touch. It is the impetuos land of Azshara, forever drenched in eternal autumn, ellusively hidding behind the coastal wonders of new found land.Its peaceful atmosphere shielding the twisted monstrosities hybernating in shadows, lost in their eternal slumber.So will be the faith of our heroic youngster, a tall lad with lucent blonde hair, goliath build and sharp figure, with hypnotic blue eyes and strong character, newly ranked by the glorious Silverhand. He received word from Lordareon to inspect the retreat of the naga scarred by their defeat against Arthas, it was reported that a large concentration was submerging within the trenches of that forsaken land. He embarked to what was soon to be his doom or salvation, our young paladin was eager for receiving such a honorable task, little did he knew what was lurking silently, waiting for his pressence. His journey was hard and intense, often he felt as if stalked by a cyclopean eye scooping from the silent waters. Once reaching the coastline of the brimstone covered sand, he felt a ghoulish touch embracing his warm body with its death warding clutches. He quickly started his hardy duty, hustling and bustling around the shores, eagerly seeking a campsite to disperse of his unuseful belongings, he only cared about his hammer, the symbol of each Silverhand herald. Once set in, he cautiosly awaits for further high-ranked orders, on which he may proceed with his dangerous quest. Night shrouded the ragged fields, our young paladin was meditating under the ecliptic light of the moon, his senses were shifted in a different world. Deep in the corner of his minds, he tried to seek a purpose for his senseless exploit, his will was struggling on a truthful answer, a glimpse of explination, our hero knew that such a perilous quest wasn't of his level of knowledge or strength and he needed a reason of his assignement. He mentally travelled a few millenia in the netherly void of his conciesness, hoping that logic will tie the line of this riddle. There he saw a gazellic shape, distinguishable as being a woman. Her frail skin was emanating a purple glow that enlightened his troubled soul, giving him a state of relaxation, of pleasure. The night was lonely and black, he needed a female to free him of his passive state. As he approached her, she seemed to depict familiar formes, glowing brighter and brighter, searing empathy in the heart of the paladin. He reached out, trying to touch her benevolent apparition. She was glowing so intense, that in a few seconds, the cleansing light was blinding his whole mind, setting him dizzy and frail. Upon awakening his eyes were blackened by the crystaline figure that he saw and appeared so familiar ; it was a night elf !



    And as for heirlooms, it makes sense, as Crazy said it has to relate to the character it belongs to. I was simply confused in making one and then waking up that I have no valid heirloom and just a fiction !

    Thanks guys !
     
  12. Crazy Cow

    Crazy Cow

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    I'll keep on posting individual segments as I complete them, then once they are all done I will combine them in one post.

    EDIT:
    NearbyHermit:
    The first little segment is confusing, with the sundered dreams and shadowed hopes. Other than that, it's looking good. Once you finish it I'll do a more in-depth review.
     
  13. busterkomo

    busterkomo

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    Sure, but a story doesn't need to be easy to follow in order to be well written.
     
  14. Landmine

    Landmine

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    So only 1 more day left to write this thing. Some 900 word currently... I guess I'm busier then expected tomorrow (at least I have my entire plot figured out). And just to clarify, the rough copy is due on the 25th and the final copy due the 5th?
     
  15. whatever

    whatever

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    First I would like to thank Trax. - I bow to your Holy-Lighted image, dude :pal: (bow) (bow)

    Okay, here's my story:

    :fp:
    The Clouds Are Nice
    “The clouds are nice…” – he thought – “Always free, going where the wind takes them, not having to make decisions, put up with earthly affairs… so free…” – Gol’Tak was lying on the grass, relaxing, his axe by his side, his thoughts and blue eyes in the sky. He smiled, showing his old tusks, he had not seen any patrols for days, and the laxity was getting to him. He reminded himself, that he needs to get going and no more breaks until dusk. Yawning, he stretched his well built body, his bones cracked in approval, muscles straining for a second, then he got up, hang the massive axe on his back and set off.
    Gol’Tak was one of the last remaining free orcs, and as such he had to constantly put up with human patrols, attacking him for reason, no other than the color of his skin. So far he hadn’t encountered any real threat, he was a battle-hardened veteran, and even at the end of his prime he was an enemy to be reckoned with. His skills alone would have been sufficient to survive this far, but he felt proud, that no human sword, dagger, spear or even bow could penetrate his breast-plate, the only piece of armor he wore, made especially for him by Svarog the Black – war smith of his clan. He toiled over it for many weeks, used fine metal and leather, and the result was exceptional, thick and heavy with no ornaments, only an orc of Gol’Tak’s build could bear it without strain, and it has proven itself – never failing Gol’Tak to this day. He used to polish it every day before and after battle, keeping its black surface ever so shining, he took good care of the leather straps, coating them in fat to prevent deterioration. In battle he felt it as his own skin, and every scratch, every bump hurt his pride, just as they would, if he let them reach his flesh.
    From the first time the Horde encountered the human race he wondered why they would use such flimsy weapons, maybe because they were considerably weaker, maybe because they valued speed over power, maybe they were just stupid, but for whatever reason two thing were clear:
    First of all, the fact brought him dissatisfaction when fighting such mal equipped opponents, because secondly none of their “toys” could measure to his axe. It was made of the sturdiest wood, its head was cast by the best blade smiths in the entire orc race, of the finest steel available and even the shamans have ornamented it with spiritual symbols. Truly it was a work of art, just as much as it was a work for battle, it had served him well, like his father before him, and his father before that, that same axe was handed down in his family for generations, and with each passing the last owner would make a scratch on the cheek of its head, thus leaving his mark through time with the new generation. Gol’Tak looked at it and, had he not known that, he would think the old thing has seen too many battles at the hands of the inexperienced. He grinned at the thought. He hadn’t realized the sun was going down, while he was lost in his thoughts. But suddenly a swishing sound made him snap out of his relaxed state, even before he could identify the sound as a missed arrow his muscles were already tensing, eyes were darting in search of the enemy, right hand was reaching for his axe.
    He was at a disadvantage – in a forest during summer, the trees were ideal cover for archers, foot soldiers could be hiding, or already pouring out, from behind boulders, if he was ambushed escape was not an option, running would only make him a moving target for the shooter and unfamiliar terrain all amounted to a tough fight. In his language that meant fun.
    He could not spot the shooter but luckily the arrow missed with just a few inches, and was now stuck in the ground next to him, it was easy enough to determine the point from which it was launched. With that he concluded his strategies, for Gol’Tak was not just an ordinary orc, he had the mind of a warchief or at least, that of a tactician, though he never cared for such positions. Being himself was hard enough.
    He placed the steel head of his axe in front of his head just in time to hear a chining sound from a deflected metal headed arrow. He wasted no more time and sprung to a zigzag between the trees and what large rocks were nearby. He would first confront the archer, him being the biggest threat in such a situation, he expected at least a few soldiers to be guarding him, whom he could use not only as indication to his precise location, but they could prove useful as shields, if they had none themselves, once they were dead. Anticipating additional forces to appear Gol’Tak had several plans to put in motion, once the situation changes but all in good time.
    Another arrow missed him, and struck a tree instead. He was closing in, he almost couldn’t wait to see the soldiers. Suddenly a grim realization halted him just behind a tree. He didn’t hear anything. No sounds of footsteps, running or any movement. No ringing of armor or any weapons, not even a provocative shout. This saddened him, it was just a lone archer or two. Too easy... annoying, but easy. Gloomy the orc warrior put the axe on his back, and picked up a few stones. It was silent, the archer was not moving, either unwilling to reveal his position or not smart enough to do it. Whispering the words “Sitting duck.” to himself he jumped out of the tree’s cover, ready to dodge incoming arrows from the three trees, where, by his calculations, the shooter could be hiding. Instead a shot came from a fourth place. It hit him in the left shoulder causing him to snarl at the fact he was facing an elf. Apart from forest trolls Gol’Tak knew only of elves as creatures capable of moving in forests without making a sound. And they annoyed him for that. He had to change tactics, driving the pointy-eared pansy from the tree tops would prove futile and tiring and while he was there he was nigh invincible. One thing he did not have, however, was an endless supply of arrows. The cunning orc began fainting escape, running at speed he knew the elf could follow, dashing from side to side only to avoid an arrow, still elves were exceptional archers and taking a shot or two would put the long-eared skirt-wearing sissy in a false sense of security. And it seemed his plan was working – more and more arrows were being carelessly fired and easily dodged. Not after long the rain of arrows ceased. Gol’Tak slowed his running to a fast walk and swaying reached a suitable rock, where he stumbled and sat still with his axe slipped from his right hand.
    “He is dying.” – thought the elf to himself – “Even an animal as stupid as him wouldn’t be able to survive with so many arrows stuck in his body.” – Pederast Osmi smiled at himself and pulled his long blonde hair back – “At least he will make an excellent pin cushion.” Just as any other elf he too considered orcs somewhere below humans but above cockroaches, this one even made him fire all his arrows before he was brought down and he would not allow the monster death so painless and calm. He volunteered to patrol this forest only for opportunities such as this, while neither he, nor his family ever had any contact with orcs, he had heard stories about the “Green skins”, which were becoming more of a blood-chilling legend, rather than real facts. He jumped from his branch to the ground, pulled his short sword from its sheath and advanced carefully. Even from half an arrow shot it was clear the orc would not get up again, but these beasts got dangerous, when they realized they were dying, it was something about their pride, honor and such. Pederast did not care and in a moment it would not matter anyway but he had to admit – there was truth in those stories, he could see why such a brute could become such a fearsome legend, even if he were a pitiful opponent.
    “You are dying, monster.” – said Pederast, once he reached the aging orc, he knew he did not understand elfish and he did not care. – “I am going to put an end to your misery, may you burn in whatever hell you crawled from!” – And he raised his sword for the killing blow.
    The elf gibbered something in his language, sounding just as silly as he looked. Gol’Tak suppressed a chuckle seeing how such a slender and brittle frame would approach him with nothing more than a toothpick. Just as the girl-man was raising his cutting knife Gol’Tak said to him in his own language – “You elves seem to be just as arrogant as you are girly.” – not waiting for the brow the elf raised in astonishment to come down the orc leapt forward, grabbing the surprised elf by his throat with his left arm, while disarming him with his right. He threw the small blade away, lifted the frail creature until his feet would not touch the ground and his face was ready to cry tears, allowing himself a pause to enjoy the look in his eyes then threw him to the ground and went for his axe. Taking his time he bent over it slowly, gripped its throat tightly and firmly, stood up and looked himself in its smooth head and then turned around, landing a blow quick and strong as a bear upon the short sword. Where there was a small piece of metal now were many little pieces and an even more scared, predictable elf. Opponents, who did just what you expected them – waste all their arrows, face you with no advantage, reach for their lost weapons – just were not fun. He had wasted enough time playing with this enemy and he was losing blood so he prepared for the final blow.
    The orc was going to strike, Pederast Osmi did not want to die, he was afraid of death, all he ever heard about “dying with dignity and pride” didn’t made much sense to him, if he was going to die it would be all over and it did not matter how he did it. Flat on his back it all seemed futile the fear had already overtook him and all he could do was snivel, kick aimlessly the dirt and try to deny his fate. His bow slipped from his arm, when he reached for his sword, now in pieces, there was no hope. And his whole world came crashing down, as the orc swung his massive axe.


    Yeah, I know it's totally lame, but for the final date I will review it to make it more "literary" and try to find someone to help me with those commas. :grin::thumbs_up:

    Which reminds me: does anyone know where I can find some article or something about the proper use of commas? :witch_doc_sad:

    P.S. I have made references to different parts of the axe, which might seem a little confusing - Wikipedia to the rescue!!! :cute:
     
    Last edited: Feb 24, 2010
  16. Traxamillion

    Traxamillion

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    I know I'm awesome.


    My reccommendation is to pick up a novel and use it to identify when and when not to use commas. I'm sure you have one in your home. Read what is written and identify what sort of words/tone are used prior to the comma(s). Hope this helps.
     
  17. Momo

    Momo

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    Ok,here's my first draft.It definetely isn't finished yet so there will be more to come.
    The Legendary Ironshield
    It was a cold and chilly October morning. There was no sign of the sun. It was snowing heavily and it seemed as if a blizzard was coming. The temperature was uncommon for this month. Usually it got a lot colder through December. The freezing weather had come sooner than expected. It was quiet, you could only hear the howling wind. Suddenly the silence was broken. It was the sound of men marching. Hundreds of dwarves were crossing through the Stonebeard valley. They were heading towards the city of Ironshield. After the tiring march they reached the destroyed gates of Ironshield. About thirty warriors were already waiting there.One of them was in a different outfit-obviously the commander. He had a huge orange beard. He was wielding a giant axe in his left hand and in the other a rusty old iron shield. Something was strange about him, which most of the coming warriors noticed-he had only one eye. He marched three steps towards the coming army.
    “So ,Ironforge decided to send reinforcements after all eh? I doubted you’d come.”said rudely the orange-bearded dwarf.
    “Watch your tongue Azregahn Scarshield,yer lucky High King Magni Bronzebeard even considered your cry for help. Or would you consider entering yer cursed destroyed home alone?”said the other dwarf in return. This one had lighter armor but had two weapons instead of one. An axe in his right hand and a mace in his left.He had a great yellow beard. His helm had two horns coming out of it. On his back were attached five skulls of his most dangerous killed enemies. Azregahn knew that this one would be no other but. Huginn Ironcliff.One of the mightiest mountain kings in all of Ironforge.
    “Forgive me for my rude behavior great one.”said Azregahn.
    “Forget ‘bout it. Now tell me are these your all warriors?”
    “Yes, well most of us were killed during the Horde invasion. I doubt we’ll find any survivors in the city.”
    “So then remind Azregahn why are we exactly going inside? This’d better not be some stupid joke of yours!”
    “Nope, of course not. The great Ironshield is still somewhere inside there. I’ve had visions of it.It was forged by my ancestors, passed down from generation to generation. It was last seen in the hands of my dead brother…after he was killed the shield remained somewhere inside the city. I am absolutely sure of it!”
    “Alright, alright but if you’re wasting our time you’ll regret calling us here.”
    There was a moment of silence when the two armies merged and entered the ruins of the once great city of Ironshield. Like every other dwarven city it was a massive cavern which had been carved into the earth by the dwarves of course. Everyone noticed a horrible smell. Although nearly three months had passed since the end of the Second War the smell of rotting and burned flesh remained. The Bleeding Hollow clan had completely depleted the place from any life. But there were some living residents here every dwarf knew it. Suddenly several green warriors started to emerge. Orcs! There were still some left here. These creatures were higher than the dwarves. Out of their mouth two tusks sprang out. Their eyes were red and filled with anger. They were bloodthirsty beasts; however these seemed to be older. One of them was larger. His body was covered in tattoos and in wounds. He started talking.
    “Bah stupid little dwarves don’t you see? Entering this place means your doom! This is Bleeding Hollow ground and you’re trespassing!”
    “You destroyed everything, murdered everyone…you and your retched Horde deserve only death!”said Azregahn.
    The two armies charged. Although the army of the orcs was quite small, these creatures knew how to fight and well. Their leader took down three dwarves at once with only one hit. Then he slammed his shield into one’s head. Azregahn was very eager to face this one in combat. He killed all the orcs in his way. Huginn was bashing the orcs the orc’s heads one by one. Azregahn reached the orc leader and charged at him. The orc laughed in irony. He attacked but it was a weak blow.His axe made a minor scratch on the dwarf’s shield. With all his anger Azregahn stroke down the orc, cutting his throat. The dwarves had won. The leader of the greenskin’s was still alive.
    “You aren’t the main leader are you? Tell me savage who leads you?”
    “That is something I wouldn’t tell you midget…uuuuhhh.”
    He died. Regardless of not gaining any information Azregahn was certain he wanted to continue. Huginn had given a vow to King Magni that he would follow the Ironshield clan until their quest was done.
    Hours went by as they searched for Ironshield. The entered every part of the city. They ended up in the old armory. It didn’t even have weapons in it. As they marched and stepped on the ground a sound of cracking emerged. There were skeletons of fallen dwarven warriors everywhere. Suddenly the skeletons started rising!
    “Skeletons! Defend yourselves!”said nervously Huginn“This is only the work of some shadowmancer. The question is who is doing this…”
    “Sir, there are too many! We have to get away or we’ll get overwhelmed.”
    “Hold on soldier we ain’t going anywhere!”
    The skeletons were very easy to kill but they were much more than the dwarves. Warriors, crossbowmen, archers, shieldbreakers and even mountain kings. The all attacked rapidly, not showing mercy for anyone. After the vicious battle had passed many of the dwarves lied dead, others severely injured and others just helpless.
    “This is bad….really bad. We’ve lost too many warriors here. Regardless we must continue for our search!”
    “Azregahn, you disgust me.Our men need rest not mention that more than half of ‘em are dead! I’m canceling the operation. You continue with yer men if you want to!
    “We must continue Ironcliff, you might not know how important this shield is for us and I won’t stand your stupidity! Let’s say what would happen if someone would have actually stolen Ironforge!? What’d ya do then? Surrender? We need to continue this expedition. This shield has something unique said about it. When it was forged by my ancestors, a prophecy about it was said. It would be passed from generation to generation until it would be passed to the hands of a great here who will rescue dwarvenkind by using the rock of Ironshield! I may not know what it entirely means but I will continue the search, despite any greenskins, shadomancers or any other thing in this world, with or without you.
    “Very well Scarshield, I might have not felt your pain but it is my duty as fellow dwarf to help you.”
    “Thanks you Huginn, me and my people are eternally grateful to you.”
    “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Let’s go on for our search in several hours”
    “Agreed”
    Four hours later the army of dwarven warriors left the resting spot. Scarshield was getting disappointed. He knew the prophecy couldn’t be wrong but where was the legendary shield…it was nowhere to be found. The armory was a misconception and it couldn’t be in the Throne room. That place was completely destroyed and raised to the ground. Still they had to try, but they weren’t heading there. Waiting in anxiousness Huginn couldn’t wait any longer so he asked.
    “Alright tell me where are we going? I’m not familiar with this city, so please tell me!”
    “Well I thought of heading towards the library. Before you say anything, I know it might not seem bright but something tells me we have to enter it”-replied Azregahn.
    “I just hope it ain’t one of those false visions of yours!”
    Several minutes later they entered the old library. It was enormous. So many shelves, but sadly a few books remained-some of them torn apart others lost and mostly just burned. Ironcliff shook his head.
    “This place seems impressive. It’s bigger than the library in Ironforge. Too bad so much knowledge gone to dus..”
    He was interrupted by a laughter. Someone was here.
    “Be on yer guards men” whispered Azregahn.
    Suddenly a deep voice echoed through the library.
    “Well, well so they managed to reach the library I thought the would be easier to kill or it may be the old weak orc –Grotog? Hah, I promise you this fight will be more challenging than even your last battle with my skeleton minions!”
    Out of the darkness appeared a robed man with a glowing green staff. His clothes were quite fragmented.He wore a hood on his. When he raised his head, the first things the dwarves saw were two glowing red eyes. This was none other but a death knight.
    “So you’re behind all of this shadowmancer aren’t you? Prepare for painful death!” yelled Ironcliff in all of his fury.
    “Hahaahah, I’ve been searching for a dear to me items for a long time little dwarf...
    “Ironshield!”
    “….and I won’t let you stop me! Kill them all” ordered the death knight
    Suddenly orcs started spawning everywhere. Dead dwarven warriors were coming out of the ground. Before they knew it the dwarves were completely surrounded.
    “That’s why I don’t trust yeh Scarshield,see what you did?” It was obvious that Huginn was very angry at Scarshield.
    “Don’t worry we’ll get out of this.” calmly replied Azregahn.
    Huginn shook his head.” You amaze me with your calmness.”
    “Fallen warriors of Ironshield, I know you find it hard to repel the influence of the death knight on you,but I beg of you in the name of the legendary Ironshield spare us! I know that deep within your heart you will find the strength to break free from his control!”
    Azregahn’s speech impressed everyone especially the dead dwarves. One of them gave out a fierce roar and struck an orc with his axe! Both armies started attacking the orcs.The victory of the dwarven army was certain. They killed all of the orcs. After every greenskin died,the skeletons started falling apart. One of them stared at Azregahn and started talking to him.
    “You are very brave and courageous young Azregahn,I know many things about you and your quest. You will find Ironshield in the mighty Throne room, me and all my comrades wish you luck. I wish we could join you but we have only a certain amount of energy given if we use it all out we die. Farewell brave Scarshield” said the falling apart dead warrior.
    “Farewell mighty warrior, I thank you will all my heart.” As he said these words a tear rand down his face.”Well I think you know where we’re going right?”
    “Towards the Throne room?”
    “You guessed right warrior. Alright men let’s move!”
     
    Last edited: Feb 25, 2010
  18. supertoinkz

    supertoinkz

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    Its ashame that I am out of this contest -.-
    I'll be busy with exams, models :)ugly:), homeworks, projects, and real life
    I already completed the characters but I think I can't go on
     
  19. dead-man-walking

    dead-man-walking

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    Do people even realize that SilverEx hasn't been online since Fifteenth of February?
     
  20. NearbyHermit

    NearbyHermit

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    Hmm,thanks :wink: I really apreciate it !

    That's sort of an intro, if it's confusing, then it reached its purpose.
     
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