Short Story Contest #3 - Heirloom

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Heres the entry list.

A Family Torn Asunder - Trax.
Two Races are Better than One - Silly lil ant
A Daughter's Love - Tails96
Master of the Scrapheap - Ghoulrush
Battle of Two Hills - idodik
The Clouds are Nice - Whatever
Tree - The World is Flat
Clan Wars: The Story of Iksha - Solecompanysole
Honicora - Crazy Cow
Magnus' Revenge - CaoSong

PLEASE NOTE THAT I DID NOT DISPLAY ENTRIES THAT WERE OVER OR UNDER THE WORD COUNT LIMIT ALSO I DID NOT DISPLAY ONES THAT WERE INCOMPLETE. IF I MISSED A VALID ENTRY PLEASE POST SO.
 
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I'm going very, very fast in that case. Can you make an exception with 5,780 words? I don't want to do even more cutting and downgrade the quality of the story.

By the way, I figured out how to fix the problem with my word processor. If I copy it directly from the hidden tag, it will crash, but if I go to edit mode first it works fine.
 
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I'm sorry, but...

If you can't even be arsed to employ proper grammar in your posts, why on Earth would you like to judge something based almost ENTIRELY on grammar?
 
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Done. Just at 5,000 words now. The most obvious change is the lack of that last ending portion about all of Azeroth and the Harpy encounter, but details were cut pretty much all around.


Kahn Stonehoof looked upon the Tauren settlement with disgust. The bull-men never failed to evoke that feeling in him, and he knew his warriors felt the same. The barbaric creatures were so different than the proud Centaur that they were barely sentient, much less worthy of the lands they held. Which was why Stonehoof and his warriors were here today; to take this land from the undeserving Tauren. The land was bathed in a red light from the newly rising sun, a good omen for the Centaur on this day. The fools had their settlement in a corner, between a sheer rock cliff and a sheer drop into the canyon of Thousand Needles, and there would therefore be no escape from the Centaur marauders. Giving out a war cry, he led his warriors on the initial charge. The attack was unexpected, and the Tauren had little time to prepare as the Centaur smashed through tents, scattered fires, and of course slew savage bull-men. The few of their warriors that stood up to the marauders were cut down by five-to-one odds, and there was little resistance to their attack. That is, until the bellows of their Chieftain rang out in defiance of the Centaur battle cries.
Jerked awake by the combined cries of his people and the war whoops of Centaur, Chieftain Windrider immediately knew his fears had come true. Ever since stories of entire Tauren settlements slaughtered by Centaur raiders had started circulating years ago, he had feared his peaceful settlement would be next to fall to the brutes. But he gave little time for thought - his people needed him, and so he grabbed his mighty war axe and rushed out of his tent with a bellow. Centaur vermin were everywhere - as well as the blood of his people. Several of the raiders saw him, and abandoning their looting came at him. They stopped when one of their fellows met the head of his axe at chest height, with his severed torso swinging through the air. The cowards were hesitant to come at him, and remained so, until the reason his name was Windrider came smashing down on the back of a would-be raider. Their hesitation was turned into outright panic when his Wyvern, Skysong, clawed another's chest open with glee. Chieftain Windrider had raised him from an egg, and Skysong had never been far ever since. The two had stood together in battle often, and the Chieftain hoped they would do so again after this day. But the size of the raiding party was evidenced when a dozen or more raiders formed a circle, although a wide one, around him and his pet, and a much bigger one with an axe blood-red from lack of washing came to face him. Bellowing a challenge at their leader, Chieftain Windrider attacked the brute head-on while Skysong began ripping through the centaur's ranks. His opponent was obviously more experienced at fighting, as his swings always came closer to Windrider than his own. Barely deflecting the deadly axe of his enemy, he made fewer swings and more deflections, and he quickly began to tire. He jabbed at his opponent, but the horse man leaped to the side and smashed his axe out wide away from its owner's body. Crying in victory, the centaur swung at the Tauren's exposed head - and hit.
Crying in victory, Stonehoof swung at his opponent's exposed head, but instead hit a fast-moving blur that moved between him and his target. His axe was ripped from his hands, and staring at the winged monstrosity the bull-man had tamed with his axe in it's side, he realized the monster would be his last kill. The bull-man himself had recovered from Stonehoof's vicious deflection, and enraged at his pet's death he came at Bloodhoof, swinging hard. Acting quickly, Stonehoof reared up and struck the hilt of the axe hard with his front hooves. Knocking it out of the savage's hands, Bloodhoof realized his defeat had become victory - until the bull-man charged into his gut, snapping something and bowling the Kahn over. The two began pummeling each other with their fists, and as the Tauren took his head out of Stonehoof's gut he realized the snapping sound had been the bull-man's horn. Looking at his chest, the Kahn saw the horn lodged in his chest, but was interrupted in his examination by the Chieftain’s hands wrapping around his neck. He began to choke, and was unable to get the bull-man's hands off. An idea coming to his desperate, oxygen-starved mind, he pulled the horn out of his gut, ignoring the explosion of pain, and stabbed his adversary in the neck.
Celebrating their victory, the Marauders left the burnt remains of the Tauren settlement behind. The vultures came soon after, swooping and crying in anticipation of the feast to come. One landed on the body of the dead Chieftain, but before it could start eating it was struck by a stone. Retreating from it's perch, the vulture backed away and eyed it's adversary - a young Tauren, with a tear-stained but determined face. She threw another rock at the vulture, then went to her dead father. She stood there for a long time, until the vultures returned. She backed up, and looked away as the vultures started to eat - but her gave fell on her father's discarded axe. Despite the beating it received from the Centaur Kahn, it was intact. While it was as big as she was, she picked it up and dragged it off with her into the wilderness of the Barrens.

Nineteen Years Later
Honicora woke to the cries of vultures.
At first, she thought they were simply remnants of the dream she had been having. But as she collected her thoughts, the cries failed to go away, and so she got up out of her cot, strapped on her mighty two-handed axe, and stepped outside of her tent.
Honicora was of average build for a tauren, standing about eight feet tall and with a fairly muscular frame. With light brown fur, darker brown spots and a deep, almost black brown hair, Honicora didn’t have many striking physical differences from the average tauren. Unlike most tauren, however, she was innovative and clever; something necessary, seeing as she had lived alone since the Windrider clan was wiped out by centaur.
Sighting the location of the vultures down in the valleys of Thousand Needles, Honicora set off. Passing through the cliffs, she stepped out into the valleys of Thousand Needles and headed towards the pillar of vultures.
When she arrived at the gristly feast, she saw an unfortunately common sight - a group of mangled centaur and tauren bodies. It seemed the tauren had been overwhelmed by centaur and killed to the last bull - the tauren bodies were surrounded by a ring of marauders. Wading into the sea of vultures, swinging the butt of her axe to scare the filthy vermin off, she went to examine the dead tauren bodies. They had the mark of the Bloodhoof clan on their totems, so she assumed they were a foraging party for the tribe living nearby. As she began to check the dead centaur, one of the tauren bodies coughed.
Turning, she saw a heavily wounded, but living warrior regaining consciousness. He tried to stand, leaning on his spear for support, but a deep gash running through his thigh prevented him from doing so. Quickly moving over to him, she began tearing strips off the clothing of nearby tauren to bandage him up.
“Don‘t worry, I‘m going to help you. My name is Honicora - who are you?”
The warrior was slow to reply, as his wounds were severe and he was undoubtedly weakened, but he still managed to grunt a reply. “I am Mourg, of the Bloodhoof tribe.”
With her guess confirmed, Honicora decided to go for quick, temporary healing instead of applying salves. They had only a few miles to go to his tribe, and despite his wounds the warrior would be able to make it. After bandaging him up, she quickly checked the other bodies to make sure she didn’t leave anyone behind, then helped the warrior stand up and start hobbling down the canyon.
While Mourg was hardly talkative, as they moved on Honicora managed to get the basics of his travel out of him. His tribe, the Bloodhoof, were moving away from the Barrens towards the coast in an effort to escape the centaur. They were stocking up on food and other supplies to prepare for the journey, and his party was one of several sent out. They were hunting for herbs growing in the canyons when a centaur raiding party ambushed them and killed Mourg’s companions.
Honicora doubted that the Bloodhoof would be able to simply run from the centaur, but she would hardly try to stop them. She might actually join them, in the hopes of killing Stonehoof warriors, but she didn’t know - she loved the Barrens and most of it’s creatures too much to simply leave.

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. 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. She was just finishing the quick tale 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, forcing Honicora back. He jumped forward for another stab, but Honicora made a chop to the knees, sending him screaming to the ground. As she 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. The remaining Bloodhoof warriors 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. Cleaning her axe, 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.”
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. After only a moment of hesitation, however, she turned and followe dCheiftain Bloodhoof.

Several days went by. Honicora generally made herself useful, and 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.
The sick and the old 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. As the last Tauren left their village, Honicora turned and focused on watching for the Centaur raiders that would undoubtedly find the caravan.
For several 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 and his companions began shooting. 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.

Bound and guarded by three warriors, Honicora received plenty of dirty looks and whispers from the other tauren nearby. Chieftain Bloodhoof had ignored her excuse, and was only concerned that Honicora had shed the blood of a fellow Tauren. On a more pleasant note, the coast was only a day’s march away, but Honicora was hardly cheered by the news.
That night, she was unbound for just a minute to eat a quick meal. Fearing what her punishment would be, Honicora decided to slip away anyway. She didn’t have any of her possessions, but she knew what Kodo they were on, and so she sat and waited. After several hours, towards the end of the second night watch, she quietly got up and walked over to the Kodo with her possessions. With her wrists bound, she was only able to fumble the axe out. Bending slowly down to the ground, she started chipping away at the rope binding her wrists. After cutting herself a few times, the rope gave out. Picking up her axe, she turned to the perimeter of the camp. With the half-dozen sentries posted, she would hardly be able to sneak by. Putting her axe away and taking a deep breath, she started running.
The sentries called out almost immediately, and the camp was filled with the calls of frightened Tauren and battle-ready warriors. The sentry nearest to Honicora made an attempt to get her, trying to tackle her with a flying leap. Barely evading the attack with a dive of her own, Honicora came back up and continued running. She quickly ran outside the ring of light surrounding the camp, followed by a group of warriors. Honicora slowed down slightly, confident that she was safe out of the sight of her pursuers, but despite that she continued running.
After several hours of stumbling over dunes, through scraggy bushes and once on top of a sleeping scorpid, Honicora collapsed of weariness and fell asleep.

Honicora was woken up by the sun in her face. Standing up and rubbing her eyes, she looked around her. It was currently noon, and most creatures were hiding in underground burrows, away from the hot sun. Honicora was next to a tall mountain range to her right, with the desert of the Barrens spreading out to her right. Honicora needed to find food, but that would need to wait until more creatures came out of their dens, so until then Honicora simply started walking.
Several hours later, creatures started coming out again. The first one Honicora came across was a hyena, who was digging through the old, bleached remains of a wagon. It turned to regard her, and Honicora killed it with a heavy blow to the head. Lacking any kind of fire, Honicora skinned it with the blade of her axe and made a makeshift rack out of some of the ruined wagon. Hanging the strips of meat out to dry in the sun, Honicora sat down in the shade provided by the remaining wood, and kept a watchful eye on the slowly cooking meat for any predators that would try to take it. Several more hours passed, and the sun was slowly setting. Taking the meat off the rack, Honicora ate some of it and wrapped the rest in the skin of the dead hyena. Leaving the scraps for other scavengers, Honicora set off once again.
That morning, Honicora started searching the mountains for somewhere to spend the day. The best way to travel the desert was to rest by day, as walking in the blistering heat would kill someone far sooner than hunger. Hoping to find shelter and water, which Honicora needed, she stumbled across a well-worn path winding up into the mountain. Not seeing the usual Tauren skulls that decorated the entrance to most Centaur camps, Honicora figured it was safe - but kept her axe in hand in case any trickery came from the inhabitants.
As Honicora climbed, she failed to come across any real signs of habitation. The narrow pass had sheer cliffs on either side, so at least she was out of the sun. The cliffs gradually grew shorter as she walked on, and once they were only a few feet above her head she turned a sharp bend. There, she saw three things of interest. The first was a small stream trickling from some source above the canyon walls. The second was the customary totem poles that marked Tauren villages. The third was a brutish, black-furred tauren, holding a spear at eye level less than a foot from Honicora’s face.
“Who are you, stranger?” he growled. Despite it being a question, he managed to say it as if it were a threat of violence, which hardly comforted Honicora.
“Honicora Windrider,” she said, startled by the sudden appearance. “What clan is this?”
“We are the Grimtotem, little Windrider,” he replied, again making it sound like ‘Grimtotem’ was actually a word describing the violent dismemberment of some living thing. “You are trespassing on our lands, and we usually kill visitors for that.”
The malice in his voice revealed his intentions. When he stabbed forward just after he finished, Honicora ducked to the side, getting nicked in the ear. Afraid of killing another Tauren, Honicora instead hit the unbalanced warrior in the back of the head with the hilt of her axe, followed by a hoof to the small of his back. He yelled, more in fury than pain, and was quickly answered by the yells of his fellow Tauren. Cursing under her breath, Honicora jumped over the warrior and started to run down the path. The warrior grabbed her leg, however, tripping her over and smacking her into the ground. Winded by the unexpected attack, Honicora was quickly surrounded by Grimtotem warriors. Dragging her up, they started carrying her into the village. The first warrior, who had greeted Honicora in the first place, snarled at her and tried to gut her again. With her wind back, Honicora was able to kick off to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack and bowling over her captors. She was immediately restrained again, but the warrior was equally restrained, although he was struggling and even biting his fellow tribesmen. The two were dragged into the center of the village, in front of a large, decorated tent. One of the warriors called out to whoever was in there.
“Magatha, we have a visitor.” He emphasized visitor with a slightly sarcastic tone.
The Tauren that came out of the tent was old and wore the robes of a shaman. Despite her age and grey-streaked muzzle, she radiated a sense of power and strength.
“Well then, what have we here?” she asked, studying Honicora. The old shaman, presumably Magatha, shot a glare at the struggling warrior for a moment.
“Arnak, be silent! I will deal with you later,” she growled. Turning to Honicora, she continued studying her for a moment.
“Release her,” she said. The guards at Honicora’s sides let her go.
“What is your name, child?” Magatha asked.
“Honicora Windrider,” Honicora replied.
“Very well, Honicora. You have two options right now. For trespassing on our lands and assaulting one of our warriors, you can be executed. On the other hand, you can join the Grimtotem tribe, and only suffer the punishment for assaulting another warrior, which is almost nothing.”
It seemed an obvious choice, and after only a brief moment Honicora replied. “I will join the Grimtotem, then.”
“One thing stands in your way. You must prove yourself before we allow you to become one of us. Luckily for you, the opportunity has presented itself. Kahn Stonehoof, the leader of a local Centaur clan, has stayed behind while his warriors go to attack a Tauren tribe. The fool will, of course, be replaced by one of his victorious warriors, but until they return he has left himself without any guards. Go to the Stonehoof village, directly across from us, in the outcropping of rock right out there.” Magatha gestured out towards the Barrens, and indeed there was a column of rock jutting out from the ground.
“Bring us the skull of Kahn Stonehoof, Honicora, or we will kill you instead.”
Apparently done speaking with Honicora, the old Tauren turned into her tent. Taking her axe from a nearby warrior, Honicora turned to head back down the mountain path.

As Honicora traveled over the Barrens, she considered the effects of joining the Grimtotem. They were obviously a clan of warriors, although from her short experience with them she doubted that they were the honorable kind.
After spending a full day and most of the second traveling over the dunes of the Barrens, Honicora reached the jutting pillar of rock. She quickly found the Stonehoof village, as well, marked by the gristly walls made of Tauren hide. Walking up to a gap in the walls, Honicora looked inside.
As Magatha had said, the village was mostly deserted. Only one Centaur was in sight. Wearing bloodstained metal armor and wielding a mighty axe, he towered over any other Centaur Honicora had seen, and by default Honicora herself. He looked around, and seeing only Honicora he began to laugh.
“Only one puny Tauren to challenge me, the Kahn of the Stonehoof?” he mocked. Readying his axe, he charged at Honicora and swung wide at her. Jumping back, Honicora retaliated with a sweep of her own as the Centaur’s belly. Her opponent drove the head of her axe into the ground with his own, then ran inside her opened guard and impaled her on the hilt of her axe. Bodily lifted for a moment, Honicora fell to the ground, gasping for air. She barely had time to roll to the side, missing a decapitating strike from the Kahn, and jumping to her feet she kicked the axe, still stuck in the earth, out of Stonehoof’s grip.
“I learned from the last encounter I had, little Tauren,” he growled, and drawing a short sword he lunged at Honicora. Honicora sidestepped, and the Kahn charged right by her, off balance from the momentum of his attack. Honicora swung hard after the Kahn, but he kicked with his hind legs, knocking Honicora’s own weapon from her. He turned around, smiling at the sight of his disarmed opponent, but before he could attack Honicora took her hyena-hide backpack and threw it in the Kahn’s face. While he was distracted, she ran to pick up her dropped weapon and turned to face her opponent. He came at Honicora swinging both. Honicora dived to the side, and bringing her axe up in a low sweep she smashed through one of the Kahn’s rear legs. Stonehoof bellowed in pan, and limping around he reared up and kicked Honicora full in the chest, sending her flying into one of the flimsy Centaur tents. Gasping for air, she tried to stand up, but a sharp pain in her chest prevented her from getting enough breath to do much.
Kahn Stonehoof limped over to Honicora, slowed by the loss of his leg. Desperately searching for something Honicora could use - her axe was several feet away - she realized she was lying on a pole. Shifting over to get a grip on it, she waited for Stonehoof to arrive.
“Why have you come to kill me, little one?” he asked. “To prove yourself to some tribe, or make a name for yourself?” He snorted at this. “Don‘t worry; you will always be remembered as the rug in my tent,” he said. He was within striking distance now; with a murderous look in his eye, Stonehoof raised his sword to strike.
Honicora stabbed him with the broken pole in her hand. The splintered end drove through his gut, a fatal wound to any creature. Screaming in pain and spurting blood, Stonehoof dropped his sword and backed away. Summoning her strength, Honicora stood up, and ignoring the searing pain in her chest she picked up her axe. Turning to face the dying Kahn, she swung mightily, striking through the Kahn’s neck and avenging the destroyed Windrider tribe.
 
Level 4
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93
just to point it out

"Entries must be over 2000 words but under 5000. If your story exceeds this slightly it may still be accepted provided the submission still follows all the other rules below. Submissions that are under 2000 words will not be accepted, no exceptions."

It can go over 5,000 words, just not too much... the exact limit was never told. and I'm shortening down my entry now, though it's still at 5,200 words
 
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I don't see you signing up.

I don't because I can't.

Judges are instructed to PM Pyritie with "stuff they've written."

My current work is still unfinished, thus it lacks a bunch of details; it's basically just a basic story without much detail. I start my stories by simply writing down whatever pops into my head, then I change it afterwards. I'm not too keen on linking an unfinished story.

All my old ones were scrapped along with the old computer. ^_^
 
Level 4
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is 5,156 acceptable?

It's the crack of dawn; the bright sun is just barely creeping over the fortified walls, guarding the vast city of Stratholme. The golden rays of the sun crash down upon the faces of 12 young men; all standing in a line, in front of them stood 3 men, clad in armor. The sun reflecting on their armor seemed to make the 3 men glow, radiate with the power of the sun itself. Smiles grew on the 12 young men's faces, for today, these 12 boys were to be made fully fledged Knights of the Silver Hand. A Dream of one of these young lad's since he was old enough to have a dream, Magnus Faoren, though his desire to be a Knight of the Silver Hand was more than just a desire to protect those around him, he also joined for a chance to get closer to his father, Who was a famous Knight indeed.

Magnus Faoren, or more correctly, Magnus Lightbringer, as he is the illegitimate son of Uther Lightbringer, First Knight of the Silver Hand. His mother, Sara Faoren, was a close and trusted friend of Uther's for many years and as such she kept Magnus a secret from Uther and everybody else, out of fear that letting it be known that Uther had a bastard son, would tarnish Uther's good name. Magnus was very excited, for he knew later that day he would get to meet his father, for the first time, as it was customary for the Knight Commander to meet the newest Knights. This also caused a great deal of apprehension to grow within Magnus, for not only was be about to meet his father, he had the added nervousness from being dubbed a Knight, A Knight sworn to protect the land with his sword in one hand and the Light in the other.

After the morning briefing Magnus and the other 11 Knight Apparents continued with their normal routine, which consisted of sparring with each other and the Knight instructors, studying the Light, and assisting the City guard with patrols. However this day patrols was cut short as they had to ready themselves for the ceremony, and Lord Uther's arrival. Dawning his best clothes, Magnus put on his armor with a large sense of pride, as this was going to be one of the best days he had ever had. The bell rang loud and Magnus knew he had to make his way down to the courtyard, taking one final breath he turned and exited the room. Much to his surprise, and delight, his teachers, mentors, and trainers were all bowing to him and congratulating him on his accomplishments as he made his way down the hallway and out into the courtyard, this was a feeling that Magnus quickly grew to enjoy.
After a few speakers and a blessing from the Silver Hand Chaplin the ceremony was almost complete, Magnus shook with anticipation for what was coming next. With the blow of a horn, there he was, the Grand Master of the Silver Hand, Lord Uther the Lightbringer. With a proud smile on his face Uther one by one shook the new Knight’s hands till he finally reached the end of the row, which Magnus happened to be in. Uther shook Magnus’s hand and spoke in a loud, invigorating tone “Lads, today you 12 enter a proud elite group of warriors, warriors whom are charged with protecting not only this kingdom, but humanity itself!” Uther walked back to the center of the group before speaking again “When darkness falls upon the world, you all will be a piece of the army that brings the Light back to it! With the combined strength and faith of all the members of the Silver Hand nothing shall ever darken this world!” The men cheered, lifting their weapons high above their heads.

The words of Uther ran deep within Magnus’s head, the pride he felt right now, not only for himself and his colleges, but for his father as well was so strong he thought he might explode, needless to say this truly was becoming the best day he had ever had. The final piece of the ceremony now began; Lord Uther stood before the new Knights one by one and placed a Silver Hand shroud over each one of them. Magnus knelt before his father, his lord, and bowed his head as the shroud was placed on him. With a large smile Uther spoke again “Now rise men, Knights of the Silver Hand!” there was another cheer from the people watching as the 12 Knights stood. Magnus was unable to control himself, raising his arm into the air he let out a great cheer, a cheer so loud it caused the rest of the people to stop and stare in awe at him.

Many months passed and Magnus was called away from the city, Magnus was considered one of the lucky ones as he got assigned to the Crown Prince Lord Arthas’s regiment. Magnus however secretly had a deeply burrowed jealousy and mild hatred for Arthas, as Arthas was Uther’s adopted nephew. Though Magnus was excited to hear that his first mission was to accompany Lord Arthas to Strahnbrad where they would join up with the Silver Knights led by Lord Uther himself. Upon arriving Magnus bowed low to Uther, lower than he did even to Arthas. It was in Strahnbrad were Magnus met his first Orc, the battle was long, but before the day was over the Orc base lay in ruins.

A couple days past and Magnus followed Arthas to the city of Andorhals, where they were attacked by creatures Magnus thought he would never see, the Undead. These walking insults to the Light were horrors; some so decayed one couldn’t even tell what they were to begin with, some missing their entire bottom jaws, others missing eyes, limbs, noses… Magnus even saw one that was missing part of its skull. The very sight of these creatures were enough to turn your stomach, but it was his job to slay these walking abominations, so Magnus did just that, and he did it well. After speaking with the local, least the ones that were still alive, our company discovered that there was some sort of infection, a plague if you will, that was killing off the people. Once that information was learned it became Lord Arthas’s goal to stop the spread of this cursed grain.

Following the infected grain trail we eventually found ourselves in the city of Hearthglen, it was there that we made a terrifying discovery. The plague didn’t just kill people; it caused them to turn into the creatures we fought before. Before long the city was besieged by legions of those Undead bastards, it was easy to tell we wouldn’t last the night with the forces we had, and as such Arthas sent his loyal friend Lady Jaina Proudmore to go find and alert Lord Uther and get him to send reinforcements, though we had to hold out until then. The bloodshed was immense, my comrades, my friends… fell around me one by one, the civilians fled as we were pushed back more and more, all hope seemed lost, that was until we heard the sound of a war horn.

Lord Uther had arrived with a legion of Knights at his back, with the order from Arthas we began pushing the Undead back, clearing the city of the cursed creatures. Even though Magnus never liked Arthas too much, he noticed a distinct change in the way Arthas though and acted after the battle, he was rasher and his mind seemed to focus on revenge rather than helping those who were still alive. Shortly after the battle Arthas ordered us to move again, I however spoke up to Lord Uther and requested to remain in Hearthglen for a short time to secure the city and assist those who were still alive. Lord Uther agreed and left a small squad of Silver Hand Knights under my command.

Everything was going good in Hearthglen, a week had passed and we hadn’t had so much as a pickpocket happen, however the good news was then destroyed. A messenger escorted by 2 guards made his way into the city, scowling at us he spoke in a clear and commanding voice “By the order of the Crown Prince Lord Arthas, the Silver Hand Knight’s have been ordered to disband, effective immediately” Magnus was outraged and threw off his helmet “What!? Where is Lord Uther, what has happened to make Arthas declare such an order!?” The Messenger grew quiet and looked down at the ground for a moment before speaking up in a softer tone “Upon arriving at the city of Stratholme, Lord Arthas and Lord Uther discovered they were too late… the grain had already been distributed to the entire populace… as such Lord Arthas ordered the city be purged of its inhabitants”
The color ran from Magnus’s face, he dropped his sword and fell to his knees; a look of pure shock covered his face, the messenger continued “… Lord Uther refused to obey the command; as such Arthas disbanded the Silver Hand… I’m sorry… but everybody in Stratholme is… dead” The messenger turned his head and left the city, along with his guards.

The Silver Hand Knights stood in silence for a time, none knowing what to do or what to say, the thought of the Silver Hand being disbanded had never crossed any of their minds before, so most, if not all of them were simply lost. Magnus remained on his knees looking down at the ground for some time, his home destroyed, his mother murdered, his father relieved of his command… and his future torn asunder, all with 1 order, an order from Arthas of all people.

The anger grew in Magnus’s chest, his eyes flashed open seemingly burning with a fiery passion, Magnus punched the ground hard as he stood up, through gritted teeth he spoke “I’m going to Stratholme… I have to see it for myself…” A few of the other Knights nodded and agreed to accompany Magnus on his way to the ruined city of death. 2 days past before they reached the city, or more appropriately what was left of the once great city. The Silver Hand Knights dispersed as they entered the city, all heading toward their homes to see if any of their loved ones remained. Magnus was no different, he charged down the street, passing the charred ashes that once were tall, proud buildings, till he reached his destination. His mother’s house, not much to his surprise, was just like most of the houses, it was nothing but a pile of burnt ash and rubble. Standing before it for nearly an hour, Magnus finally moved, wiping away the single tear that ran down his cheeks he turned away from his home, and slowly wandered out of the city in a haze, not knowing where he was headed.

Month’s past, the Silver Hand had officially been disbanded however Lord Uther still held a vast reputation and was still able to speak to the King about his son’s actions. Magnus heard from some soldiers that Arthas had lost his mind after the purging of Stratholme, and that he had taken a large contingent of soldiers north to the icy continent of Northrend to find and slay some demon, supposedly the demon that caused the plague to spread so quickly. Magnus couldn’t help but blurt out to the two soldiers that he hoped Arthas would find himself an ice tomb up there from which he’ll never come back, but before the two soldiers could react to Magnus, he had already slipped into the crowd and disappeared.

Another month passed and news spread across all of Lordaeron that Arthas had returned, and he had succeeded in slaying the Demon behind the plague. Upon the Crown Prince’s return a citywide celebration was held, everybody in the entire city was happy to have their beloved Prince back, all except for Magnus, who wanted nothing more than at that time to slit Arthas’s throat. However what happened next took the entire country by surprise, Arthas upon entering the throne room, proceeded to impale the King with his sword. The city was soon besieged by Undead, confusion and panic reigned supreme, obviously Arthas had fallen to the corruption up in Northrend.
Magnus hurried his way back to Stratholme with intentions on rallying up the Silver Hand Knights and reorganizing them under Lord Uther, who Magnus had overheard was already doing the same. A glimmer of hope began to flicker within him; perhaps he could have his revenge upon Arthas and get the admiration from Uther that he so desperately desired. Upon reaching the city he hurried around the town, finding those he knew and informing of the reorganization under Lord Uther, before long Magnus had a small battalion under his banner. With a proud sense of accomplishment he readied his men to march out and meet up with Lord Uther’s men. However once again a messenger approached him “I…” the messenger was visibly shaken “Lord Uther… reports have come in that Lord Uther… has fallen in battle… at the hand of Arthas”

For the second time Magnus’s hopes had been crushed by Arthas, his hatred for Arthas grew even more deeply, and once again Magnus fell to his knees, letting out a great scream that made even the other Knights take a step back. The messenger stuttered before speaking again “Arthas… took Uther’s body, so we know not where it is…” Breathing heavily Magnus clenched his fist and gritted his teeth, that’s when he noticed a pile of ash In front of him. He released his fist and buried his hand in the gray ash; he scooped up some and looked at it in his hand for a moment… before pressing his hand against his chest. Upon removing his hand one could see a dark gray ash hand print over the symbol of the Silver Hand. Standing up Magnus turned to his fellow Knights and he spoke loud and clear “Men… the Knights of the Silver Hand are no more…” He looked down at his chest “From this point forward, I will now be known as a Knight of the Gray Hand, to pay homage toward Grand Master Lord Uther… the First Knight of the Silver Hand, and… my father” a few of the men gasped at Magnus’s claim “Who will follow me in my quest to cleanse the land of the blight?”

Only a few men stepped forward, and like Magnus before them they pressed the ashes into their chests leaving gray hand prints over their mark of the Silver Hand, with a silent nod Magnus mounted horse and motioned for the others to do the same. The group of Knights flew out of the city and over the next couple weeks they gathered more and more support, however Magnus knew Arthas would be doing the same, and unfortunately Arthas would be able to gather support far quicker then he could… after all, all Arthas had to do was slay an enemy to gain an ally. When news of Arthas’s campaign against the elves reached Magnus his company stood at just little under eighty knights, all working under a singular goal… the capture, and execution of the traitor Prince Arthas.

Magnus stood by the fire in his war tent, surrounded by his most trusted advisers as they discussed what they would do. They all knew a frontal assault on Arthas would be suicide, while a Knight of the Gray Hand was worth a dozen of those creatures, they were outnumbered nearly 100 to 1. Their only chance would be to sneak in and attack Arthas directly under the hope that taking out the head would kill the body as well. then a messenger burst into the tent “M-My Lord!” the messenger bowed, Magnus turned to him “What news do you bring?” the messenger caught his breath then spoke again “You asked us to inform you if we had news about Lord Uther, remnants of the Silver Hand have found Lord Uther’s body, they brought it back to a Paladin stronghold just south of here, along with all of his belongings”

“I will be going and paying respects to my father… there is also something I must acquire while I’m there” the advisers were puzzled but none objected. “While I’m gone continue recruitment wherever you can… perhaps I’ll be able to sway some of the men south to join us as well… after all they are former Knights, no doubt that they’ll want revenge for what Arthas has done to the kingdom… and humanity itself” Magnus slipped out of the tent, readied his steed, and made his way south, toward the Silver Hand stronghold… and toward Uther the Lightbringer, his mentor, his leader, his father.

The trip would take at least a day, unfortunately the area was sparsely populated, a common sight these days, but before the plague this area was legendary for its beauty, however now it was desolate which made for a long and uneventful trip. When the plague first hit, this area was hit hard and fast, however since then it had been largely untouched as the Undead moved further inland, toward the more populated cities… outlaying lands like these were destroyed, then usually virtually abandoned, till now that is. The inner lands were abandoned by humanity, and they now settled wherever they could along the outer regions under the unwritten rules that they would never settle permanently and that they would never gather too many people in 1 area… as long as humanity stayed fractured the Undead largely ignored us, though by no means was anything with a pulse safe anymore.

Once he arrived with a polite bow Magnus spoke “My name is Magnus, leader of the Gray Hand Knights, former Knight of the Silver Hand. I wish to speak with whoever is in command here” The soldier looked at Magnus for a moment then turned and went inside the Abbey, the other guard kept a keen eye on Magnus, seems they were un-trusting, probably because of what currently resided inside the Abbey. A short time passed and the guard returned, along with a large bearded fellow “My name is Mimblis Evermorne, Acting commander of the Silver Hand Knights within this area. What brings you to these sacred walls?” Magnus dismounted his horse and bowed to Mimblis, Lord Evermorne was well known throughout the Silver Hand Knights, he held a high rank within the order, so it made sense he would take up command if anything should happen to Uther. “Lord Evermorne, I have come to pay respects to Lord Uther, my scouts informed me his body is here” Evermorne let out a grunt of displeasure, he then sighed “I apologize, Lord Uther’s remains were supposed to be kept secret till we could find a suitable resting place for him. If you know he’s here, no doubt other’s will know soon enough. Please come inside and pay your respects, since you are here there is no need to turn you away”

Magnus and Evermorne entered the Abbey and made their way to a room in the back, which also was guarded by a fat dwarf wielding an ax that looked to be larger than the dwarf. Upon entering the room Magnus took notice of the attire Uther’s body was in, obviously he had been cleaned and redressed. Evernmorne stood by the door along with the dwarven guard as Magnus approached and knelt by Uther’s side “Lord Uther, may your spirit find rest… and do not worry, your death will not be in vain, Arthas will die by my hand before this war is finished” Magnus bowed his head and gave a silent prayer before standing up and looking down at Uther “I shall get revenge for my murdered mother… and father”

Magnus turned to Mimblis and the guard “Where is Lord Uther’s Hammer?” Evermorne’s eyebrow rose “Why do you ask?” Magnus’s voice grew slightly sterner “Isn’t it obvious? I intend on using it to crush Arthas’s skull” The 2 men gasped and Evermorne’s gentle tone vanished “… I think it’s time you leave boy; Lord Uther’s Hammer can only be carried by a champion of the Silver Hand. Make no mistake, I know who you are Magnus Faoren, and I know you turned your back on the Light and the Silver Hand. You are not worthy to wield his Hammer” Magnus’s face grew angry “If you won’t give it to me, then I’ll have to take it. Please don’t make me hurt either of you” The dwarf laughed “Ey? Lad you’re the one that’s about to be hurt” the dwarf swung his ax at Magnus, who was more than quick enough to dodge the swing, spin around to the side of the dwarf, and connect with a well placed elbow to the back of the dwarf’s neck. The dwarf hit the ground out cold.
“Are you mad!? Your actions here will curse your meager band of Knights!” With a shrug Magnus lunged forward planting his knee into the stomach of Evermorne, causing the large paladin to fall onto the ground just as the dwarf before him. With them both cold Magnus was free to explore the Abbey, he went room to room searching for Lord Uther’s Hammer. Eventually he stumbled upon a wall that just didn’t look right, he pushed on it and realized the wall moved, only a fraction of an inch, but it moved none the less, with a smirk he realized what they had done, they had disguised a door to match the wall. Magnus rammed the wall with his shoulder breaking it open, the room was empty save for 1 pedestal; upon it rest a Hammer, engraved with the Silver Hand. With a smile Magnus lifted the Hammer, surprisingly it was light and he could swing it with ease, yes, he thought to himself, this surely will be the weapon of Arthas’s demise.

Magnus charged out the front doors swinging them open with enough force to knock over the guards, quickly he made his way over to his horse and mounted it, the guards yelled for him to stop, but of course he ignored them and sprinted off, heading north to his encampment as fast as possible, surely the Silver Hand wouldn’t take to kindly to his action and he didn’t want to be anywhere near here to find out what the Silver Hand would do. After hard riding for nearly an hour Magnus slowed his pace and stopped before getting off, he had to give his horse a rest so it wouldn’t drop dead, with no horse he could easily be caught up to, which was something he wanted to avoid at all costs at this moment, he knew not how many Silver Hand soldiers were back at that Abbey, but he highly doubted they’d only send 1 Paladin and 3 soldiers to defend Lord Uther’s body.

Magnus walked along side his horse as he let it a rest, he really wanted to stop entirely so his horse could completely get its strength back, but he couldn’t risk waiting that long. Magnus whispered he was sorry into the horse’s ear and then he remounted it, holding the reigns tight he once again urged the horse on forward at full speed. Going at this fast pace he knew he’d reach his encampment within a couple minutes; it was then that the hard part would begin; they’d have to disassemble the camp and flee before the Silver Hand could reach them, a task Magnus was unsure they could accomplish, so in the back of his mind Magnus was already working on a secondary plan, one that would either give his men a chance to escape, or give him a chance to defeat the attackers.

Upon reaching his encampment he leaped off his horse and keeping with the pace ran into his war tent, his advisers all jumped up startled by the intrusion “My Lord? Why are you in such a hurry?” Magnus unstrapped the wrapped up hammer on his back and sat it on the table “We have no time for pleasantries gentleman, we must leave, immediately” An adviser stood up with a puzzled look on his face “Y-Yes M’Lord… but can we at least know why?” Magnus sighed slightly, he wanted to get this over with after they were away, but it appeared he’d have to show them now “The Knight’s of the Silver Hand will be here soon” before any of them could reply Magnus unwrapped the Hammer, gasps came from the advisers “I believe they’ll want this back… I took it because I felt it should be the weapon that brings down Arthas and the Undead” All in attendance understood was Magnus meant, and for that reason, none among them spoke out about it.

The encampment was dismantled as quickly as possible, however much to Magnus’s spite his scouts reported a company of Silver Hand Knights were on their way, though on a happy note they numbered just over a hundred, meaning the sides were more even then Magnus expected. Magnus ordered the men to pack up what they could, and then ready for battle, the order was carried out; all around the camp men dawned their armor and readied themselves for combat, including Magnus. It wasn’t long before the Silver Hand Knights approached the camp, Magnus ordered his men out and the two sides drew up their battle lines… much to Magnus’s dismay he recognized the 3 men in charge of the battalion of Knights. The first was Mimblis Evermorne, the Knight from the Abbey, the second was the dwarf from the Abbey, the third and final man was Grayson Shadowbreaker, the man all thought would take command of the Silver Hand.

“The big fish…” Magnus said to himself silently. Lord Shadowbreaker road forward with the 2 other men by his side, Magnus followed suit and rode out to meet them. Magnus bowed to the 3 Knights from his horse “Lord Shadowbreaker, Lord Evermorne, and Lord… Dwarf” The dwarf glared at Magnus and rubbed the back of his neck where Magnus had struck him earlier. Shadowbreaker spoke in a cold tone “Magnus Faoren, you have stolen a very sacred relic from the Silver Hand, you and your men are hereby ordered to lay down your arms and are under arrest” Magnus grunted and grabbed the hammer from around his back pulled it out, holding it with one hand “I’m sorry gentlemen, but I have a goal I have yet to accomplish, so I cannot submit to your request, however I do not wish to see more bloodshed” Magnus looked over the Silver Hand Knights and then back to his own.

“We both have similar goals… eliminate Arthas and the Undead and rebuild Lordaeron, why not just let us continue on our path” Shadowbreaker glared once again “The Hammer of Lord Uther must be returned, you will not be allowed to leave with it” Magnus sighed and rubbed his head “Well then I propose a duel, not to the death… I will fight you three for rightful control of this Hammer… agreed?” The dwarf smirked and instantly grabbed his ax “Aye I agree to yer duel!” However Shadowbreaker drew his sword and blocked the dwarf “One on one combat, I will be more than enough for you boy” Shadowbreaker said as he dismounted his steed. Magnus shrugged and followed suit.

Magnus gripped the Hammer tightly and watched carefully as Shadowbreaker slowly began circling him. Within the blink of an eye Shadowbreaker’s sword was inches from Magnus’s face, however the hilt of the Hammer had blocked it with ease. Magnus pushed Shadowbreaker back and then swung the Hammer down, crashing it against the ground causing a small crater, quickly once again Shadowbreaker thrust his sword, Magnus barely dodged it and hit the side of his sword once again pushing it away as he lifted the Hammer with his other hand swinging it to the side. Shadowbreaker blocked the direct impact from the blow however the forcefulness of the swing sent him stumbling to his side, taking advantage of the momentary stumble. Lifting the Hammer up into the air Magnus funneled his power into the Hammer, causing it to glow a bright light blue, then with a loud cry he brought the Hammer down onto the ground causing the ground around the area to explode, cracks flew along the ground like bolts of lightning, proceeding so far the ground beneath the Silver Hand Knights began to crack and crumble.
Shadowbreaker leaped to the side avoiding the blow, but was stunned in awe of the attack; slowly he got to his feet and sheathed his blade. Upon seeing him put away his weapon Magnus relaxed, the attack had taken a lot out of him, and he was unsure if he could even continue the fight. “Magnus, I see you haven’t given up the light. Lord Uther’s Hammer only responds to the Light, if you had truly fallen it wouldn’t have channeled your power like that” with a slight bow Shadowbreaker called for his steed “Men, we shall retreat for now” he then turned back to Magnus “For now we will withdraw, but if you ever do fail, I will be back for that Hammer, and it won’t end like it did today” with that he pulled himself back up onto his horse, lifting his hand he yelled for his men to move out and with that the Silver Knights turned and headed back up the road.

Magnus fell back onto the ground, he was very worn out, his muscles ached and he felt like he hadn’t slept in a month, truly he wasn’t ready for this level of combat, but he knew In his heart he would have to get used to exerting himself like this, as he knew it would take far more then this to defeat Arthas and his Undead minions. Eventually his advisers approached him and helped him to his feet, with a smile on his face he stood on his own two feet and raised the Hammer into the air “Men of the Gray Hand, as you can see, with the power of this Hammer, we shall reign victorious against the Scourge, and bring the Light down upon Arthas!” the men cheered, seeing their leader defeat Lord Shadowbreaker, and wield the Light with such power filled them with confidence, and gave the men new found courage “From here our next step is taking the fight to the Scourge itself… remember men, we do this not only for Lordaeon, but for the Alliance, and for all Humanity!” Again cheers filled the air.
 
Level 6
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Feb 5, 2008
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129
Hm, Trax. Your story seems to have suffered from some paragraphing issues. Was that giant block of text meant to be formatted in such a manner? It makes it a little hard to read much less comprehend and analyze.
 
just to point it out

"Entries must be over 2000 words but under 5000. If your story exceeds this slightly it may still be accepted provided the submission still follows all the other rules below. Submissions that are under 2000 words will not be accepted, no exceptions."

It can go over 5,000 words, just not too much... the exact limit was never told. and I'm shortening down my entry now, though it's still at 5,200 words

That is also up to the judges to decide, which is aaron and myself.
 
Level 10
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Dec 26, 2009
Messages
823
They've been accepted as judges, which means they have proved themselves to Pyritie. It is also a well-known fact that someone who is pissed off with you will not be quite as generous towards you, so it would be in your best interests to leave them be.
 
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Level 10
Joined
Dec 26, 2009
Messages
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Yes, he made a grammatical error. However, not everyone bothers about having spiffy grammar online, or he made a mistake. I am saying I trust him because he made it past Pyritite, and if you don't think that Midnighters will make a good judge then make your case to Pyritie.
 
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Bad grammar. Should be:

That is also up to the judges to decide, who are aaron and myself.

Are you fit to be a judge?

I am perfectly fit to be a judge, I have a very good knowledge of the English language. Also, which is works in the sentence. It is considered proper.

In fact, it should be "That is also up to the judges to decide, who are Aaron and myself."

Aaron doesn't spell his name capitalized, so I say it the way he spells it.

So I'm supposed to sit back and watch a person that determines 30% of the points in the contest make a basic grammar error?

As said above, I have a good knowledge of the language, I am a native English speaker, and I know how a sentence is set up.
 
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Level 20
Joined
Sep 14, 2007
Messages
1,544
Wow you are all acting like little kids, if you have such a fucking problem with the judges than sign up yourself. If you haven't noticed the contest is over and we had no judges we had to appoint people who could do it, also most of the people with writing qualifications are entered in the contest, so either shut the fuck up or do something about it.
 
Level 13
Joined
Oct 31, 2009
Messages
1,481
The list still says TBA though.

Nevertheless, I can judge if you want me to - but I have no proof that my written English is above par aside from my forum posts.
 
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