Short Story Contest #3 - Heirloom

[KeLeNoR]

A question.
The story refers in what happened after Warcraft III The Frozen Throne Campaign?

 

[Kercyn]

A question.
The story refers in what happened after Warcraft III The Frozen Throne Campaign?

Entrants are required to produce a 5000 word or less short story based on Warcraft's Lore occurring AFTER the 2nd game (so no, not during or before the 2nd game).

I think that's it -.-

 

[Pyritie]

I just noticed that the contest runner hasnt been online in 12 days... dont even have any judges picked out... wonder what the policy for contest runners disappearing at the start of said contest is, if there is any such policy

I pretty much take over

 

[Crazy Cow]

A question.
The story refers in what happened after Warcraft III The Frozen Throne Campaign?

Crazy Cow stabs his eye out with a spork
Do you mind reading the rules? It clearly states that the story must be after the second game (Warcraft II). The three after 'Warcraft III' just might imply that it is the third game in the series. So no, it can happen before Warcraft III.

 

[KeLeNoR]

YAY! I wanted to do this in cinematic map but now! NOW in Book!

 

[The World Is Flat]

Thanks for some of the tips. its not nearly done yet but, its an ok first draft in my oppinion.

And some of the grammar changes were to signify the trees own simplicity, and happyness.

 

[Solecompanysole]

Crazy Cow sighs
Don't turn this into an insult fight, please.
Now, reviews on stories:

Reviews

Solecompanysole

It is better, but there are still things wrong with it. Things like
"The story of the orcs is one that they only have been trough and they only could handle it"
are abound. The above would make more sense as
"The story of the Orcs is one that they alone could have lived through"
and other things like that where the wording is just... awkward. There are parts where the wrong words are capitalized (War Wolf, for example), and you don't capitalize the right ones (Orcs, for example [Yes, I am guilty of that error too]). You still have fixing up to do, but it is much better than your previous draft.

The World Is Flat

I like the fact that your story is from the viewpoint of a tree. That is certainly unique, although the story is hard to follow (the badger, for example, seems a bit random). I also don't see any kind of heirloom in it. It's pretty good, though, and is certainly creative.

Silly Lil Ant

It seems like a good story. No noticeable errors and such, but that first part about the Forsaken seems unnescesary.

Thank you !
That's was when i tryed to do it my self now i got a good english grammar (he will help me fix all the errors and so on)

 

[idodik]

My improved version of the story, this is! It fully explains how the story matches with the lore. It is around 3,200 words.

Battle of the Two Hills

Battle of the Two Hills
By idodik
The battle was at its peak, and Garthul Shadowblade swung his mighty blade and split three human footmen in half. They were pathetic for him, after all those years of training that he excelled in, and because of something else. Garthul nearly began to ponder how fortunate he was when more footmen came striding to attack. It was an old blademaster trick: he merely splits his image and lets them lunge at his copies while he strikes them from the back. It wasn't difficult; he was vengeful after what their leader, Silthar, did to the orcs after the death of his precious Admiral Proudmoore. Garthul spilled more human blood: His entire family went out to fight them but that human slaughtered them one by one… But he's not going to fail, not with what Thrall himself has given him.
More footsteps at his back, and this time he turned to greet three knights charging at him, but this time he heard some friendly calls from the opposite direction, and Moojis, a Far Seer, smote them down with his chain lightning. He had been fighting for hours now and already adapted to the changing tide of battle. He jumped on Moojis's wolf and they rushed down the battlefield, joining tens of orcs that were fighting against the human treachery. As they rode Garthul smote down four footmen that jumped at them, and then he felt as if his hand was burning. He did not drop his blade but suddenly felt weakness, and swayed on the wolf as his hand rose in the air, uncontrollable, shaking and surrounded by strange red energy, and fired a bolt of scarlet: at first at nothing, but soon a mage appeared out of nowhere, screaming with pain, dropped to the ground, and was soon trampled to his end.
Garthul regained control but was still shocked. He did not pay much attention to the awkward sensation that he had gone through, but thought: invisibility? He did not believe that Silthar allowed this; after all Silthar was known as a jealous warrior that never used magic and believed only in the blade. Few orcs had rumored about him calling mages to serve him, but he denied their words and claiming they were deceived. Now it turns out he has the one being deceived… He himself had participated in the assault on Proudmoore's castle so he remembered the foolish human general's face, but luckily for him Silthar escaped and claimed Theramore Isle as his, despite his cowardice in battle.
It had been only a week, and Garthul forgot how unexpected Silthar was.
Moojis stopped his wolf and called back to Garthul: "Who was it?"
"Mages" Garthul grunted, still shocked from the incident.
Moojis fell from his wolf, and shouted at Garthul: "Don't you say that word for nothing!" Moojis had been burned by one in his childhood, in the earlier battles for Durotar. It was the only thing he spoke unkindly of.
Garthul stumbled and landed shaken on the ground. "I'm not joking, Moojis. I think that mage was about to kill us".
Moojis paused fumbling for a moment, and stared at him. Garthul could read the deep anxiety on his face, and asked: "Do you think he knows about Garkarath?"
Moojis returned to earth and said: "No, that's unlikely, but it's still dangerous – he probably just fears those fighting skills of yours and wants you killed to complete the series".
Garthul looked thankfully at Garkath, the small scarlet-black ring that just saved his life. "If so, let him come forth. I'll crush him."
"Don't let yourself fly into his arms; he may have an ambush waiting for you. He might not know about your ring but he probably has some scam waiting anyway".
Garthul nodded. Sometimes bloodlust needs to make way for thinking ahead.
"Let's split up: you help the troops and I'll follow deep behind. That way when the time comes I'll be able to show up and kill that stupid human".
Moojis nodded. "Take care".
"Go! I'll be waiting".
He watched as the far seer mounted his wolf, encouraged it to charge and moved away from sight. He saved Garthul from killing himself in various opportunities: suicidal operations, helpless situations, each in another way. Moojis's wisdom was a one to behold, and even Thrall called him often to his throne to hear his advice. As he stood there alone he thought to himself, you bet that you can leave him alone to do his job well. And so, when he waited for the right time to charge, he looked down at his left hand.
It was covered by blood-red tattoos and marks, some of them actually covered into his flesh. He had never understood the runes that were marked upon them, but he knew what they meant: demonic embrace. Garkarath, Shard of Darkness, was an orcish myth from the long gone days in which orcs marched into Azeroth through the Dark Portal, and was rumored to be an heirloom from orcs that became demons themselves, their power granted from this sacred artifact. The everlasting chain of owners that killed each other to gain its trust would have lasted until today, if Archimonde, that couldn’t put the ring on but feared its power, destroyed the orc that wielded it and caused it to fling through the dark portal into Azeroth, passing out of any knowledge for centuries. Now that the orcs had grown independent, they have mysteriously found the ring lying at the exact location that they planned to build the Orgrimmar fortress, and the first one that put it on enthusiastically was killed in screams of pain and blood. It was thought at first to be cursed, and the situation wouldn't have been changed if Drek'thar hadn't noticed the demonic symbols on it. He took to studying it in private, and when he understood what it was Thrall was quickly informed. Everyone thought that Thrall would wield it, but Drek'thar discovered soon enough that the initial physical strength and endurance requirements (the bloody tattoos and marks), which were made to be very powerful, are shamefully too demanding for Thrall and that he would not survive. Thrall said that he couldn't risk the price since he has to lead his nation, and so the searches for a fitting wielder begun, ending with him, Garthul Shadowblade. He was meant to be the secret weapon of the Horde, and none but Moojis and the orcs in high command truly knew what his tattooed arm meant.
He suddenly stirred from his trance, and looked around him. Orcish troops were still passing by the masses to the main battlefield, which has advanced forwards, and he watched them go and let a last wonder about Garkarath loose in his head: the ring gave him tremendous strength and agility but made him somehow lighter, which explains him riding on Moojis's wolf without making it collapse or slow down heavily, not to mention the capability of firing bolts of scarlet, like the one that recently saved his life. Still, Garthul remembered Drekthar's words to him telling him that the full effects of the ring will only reveal themselves in time. He did not want to think what they would be, and what power and responsibility they brought with them. He focused only on the thought of his enemy waiting for him.
Lightning flashed in his eyes, and he groped his blade. The nearby troops paused and looked at him, and he cried: "For Durotar!" and charged with them following him. He was yet again prepared to battle.

Garthul advanced through the battlefield with the troops behind him, and as he approached the heat of battle he roared and leapt into the mass of soldiers. A blood-red flash and two were killed; five were knocked back and crashed to the ground. None of those stood to face him, and he turned to attack the other humans. He slashed them with growing fury inside him, and felt his left hand fill with sudden warmth. With a sudden determination inside him he stopped slashing for a moment, and stuck the ring in his opponent's eye hole in bloodlust. He screamed and shouted, tortured, but soon caught fire from the blazing hot fury of Garkarath. Garthul was beginning to enjoy this newfound way of killing when a fireball burned its way above his ear. With a fury that he hasn't experienced before Garthul withdrew his left hand from the burning human's eye, not caring if he will die or not, and punched with it in the air towards the origin of the fireball, which appeared as another human mage that fell screaming to his knees. This time, he thought surprised, he controlled his movements, but in great speed. Garthul was beginning to grow impatient with Silthar and tired of his mages when a bright armored knight appeared at the top of the hill ahead, a noble horse carrying him.
His armor was brandished as if he never fought a battle with it, although Garthul recognized it from the previous time he saw him immediately; golden shoulder pads and belt, blue boots and gauntlets and a banner on his cape. His helmet had golden edges and wings as a symbol of the Alliance. His sword shone in the sun as he pulled it out of its sheath and lifted it up, and all of the humans gave a sudden cry and gained their courage.
He had forgotten how pathetic Silthar was.
Garthul slashed five times and four footmen came falling down before him, one wounded twice; he wanted to end Silthar's life before his friends began to exhaust themselves fighting. He charged to the small space created by the death of the humans, and that's when Silthar noticed him.
"Have at him!" He cried, "Let not this beast see another day!"
Garthul raised his blade with caution as the humans caught sight of him and started advancing in his direction, and suddenly felt the bloodlust in his mind grow to a peak. His skull seemed to pulse with abnormal power and his body shivered but seemed to be more aware of its might than possible. His eyes grew bloodshot with fury as the images of his family returned to his eyes, screaming, fearful and tortured. Nothing remained of Moojis's advice to him.
Today, my brothers, he thought, you will be avenged.

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

Garthul did not notice his allies and his enemies alike staring at him open mouthed and was not aware of the changes happening in his enemy until he heard him cry "Retreat! Spare your lives – we will fight them near the camp!" and headed down the other side of the hill. In a blink he seemed to fly there, and found Silthar on his horse, which was galloping in fright to the camp located near the faraway shore. He was alone, armed with but a blade and a ring, he thought. Nothing could make the death of this human more humiliating.
He charged at the fleeing humans, striking every piece of flesh that he caught in range and left their owners dead or alive, only to maintain eye contact with that coward. They soon noticed him and fled to different directions, just not to let that monstrosity get any closer. Silthar was left alone at last, and the chase continued: through narrow passes between trees, down slopes and ledges they jumped, Garthul splitting every human that got in reach. Garthul pursued him without mercy and did not lose much distance; he knew only the horse in front of him. As they approached another ledge Silthar looked back at him, and something told him that Silthar was not a doomed man yet, but he did not know why. Silthar hurried to jump the ledge, and just then Garthul heard somehow the small sound of a bow's string being stretched to its breaking point, and he had enough time to let the word "Ambush" echo in his mind before he jumped off himself.

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

Silthar stopped his horse and dismounted it, and turned towards Garthul in a tormenting gesture. Garthul attempted to swing his blade but his arm shook in pain and he seemed to shrink somehow. Silthar seemed marveled at his victory, or perhaps his cheat, thought Garthul, and was filled with desire to rip his face off his head, but was once again struck with pain.
"So comes your end, filthy being," Silthar said, "You have ended many brave lives with your lust of slaying, but you shall wield a blade no more".
He stepped forward and the archers gathered around him. Garthul felt lonely for an odd reason, like a part of him that had stormed earlier was now resting, and understood that the rampage that he had awakened earlier could not last forever. As Silthar neared with his archers ready to fire him if he resisted, he realized how much weaker and more vulnerable he was without the effects of Garkarath, his ring, but despite that decided that he would not give up without a fight. He saw his family before his eyes. Silthar was now at three arms' length from him, and Garthul desperately gathered the remainder of his strength in order to die as a hero, and then several things happened at once.
Silthar was already beside Garthul, and as he rose his blade to smite the final strike Garthul focused all the energies in his hand and pulled out the arrow that pierced his waist, and stood up, completely ignoring the tremendous pain searing in his body. As he raised his eyes to look at his killer he heard the sound of lightning behind him, and in a flash every human collapsed dead to the floor. It took Garthul a moment to absorb this, and then he grunted and said "looks like I owe you another one, Moojis," and felt his strength waver, but what caused him to black out was the deep voice, much deeper than Moojis's, that said "Come, Garthul, we need to talk".


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

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

Please do not fear to respond and criticize my story!

 

[Solecompanysole]

The Finished Updated and Fixed Story

Clan Wars:The Story Of Iksha


The story of the Orc's is one that they alone could have lived through.
Even though they were the same race, they came from the same place, they still were separated in clans which fight for the power. In the far woods of Ashenvale the Zabijan Woods two clans were fighting for glory and power.

The Clans Raa'KtnoK and Se'ghor had allieded or conquered all other clans in that region.
The Zabijan Woods were the final boarder between the territories of those two powerful clans.
Clan Raa'Ktnok was leaded by the same named warlock Raa'Ktnok. The Raa'KtnoK clan was based on brutality and strength. The Se'ghor clan was a more delicate clan and their ultimate goal was to unite all other clans without fighting. Clan Se'ghor was a well prepared clan with a battle tactic for almost every situation. The two clans had fought ever since for the power over the Orcs in Ashenvale. Clan Se'ghor had been in possession and still was of the Blood Axe of Chaos , powerful axe that had been passed through generations to the male members of the Se'ghor family.

But this time there were no male heir to pass the axe. The only heir was a female orc named Iksha . Iksha had been training her whole life to fight for the clan not to rule it. As a female she couldn't take the axe and rule the clan she should fight.
She was determined to finish the war as there were to many blood losses on both sides.

One night as she got back from training her father was on his mount and ready to go into the battle. "Father were are you going? You are not allowed to go into the battle!Who will lead the Clanif you die?" asked Iksha. "The axe is in the chest if i wont come back hahaha, you will lead the clan. I don't care what a oracle once told to our shamans, you have proven yourself as a
good warrior and i believe in you. And do not be worry i will be back. Lok'tar ogar(Victory or Death)!" was the answer of the great leader of the clan. As he was leaving Iksha was standing shocked and thinking "What?I?No he will return. I know my father. He will win the battle and finally end the war uniting all the clans and stopping this madness. But....what if he doesn't return?What if i need to be the Clan Leader?I..." she was interrupted by Mothrun her friend and helper who was there from her birth "Child what are you doing still outside? It is getting cold" Iksha responded "I am worried... what if.." Mothrun interrupted her again "Get some rest and stop worrying it will all be all right, I am sure your father wouldn't go if he knew he would lose the battle. Now common in and get some sleep"

After a sleepless night, in the morning the sound of the se'ghor horn had woken up the whole camp. Iksha looking through the window. She saw something weird. Her father wasn't leading the army of the hundred warriors and she couldn't recognize any of the orcs that entered in to the camp. She took the Blood Axe of Chaos from the box. As she had token the axe
the big heavy axe become smaller and smaller so small that she could easy put it in her pocket without anyone noticing. Mothrun rushed in "Don't get out, please stay here. I think you are in danger." Iksha was shocked "What...who are thous grunts? I cannot seem to find a familiar face! And where is my father?" A silence of some minutes started in the small hut. Mothrun was filing the same as Iksha that something is wrong.

Out of nowhere another horn had been heard. It was a horn of the Wolf Rider Thurg
"Kagh!Kagh!(Run,Run)" That was the army of the Clan Raa'KtnoK , riding the wolf directly to the hut of Iksha and Mothrun. "We need to get out of here!Or we all gonna die" Thurg grabed Iksha and Mothrun and helped them to get up on the wolf. They then rode out of the camp in the forest. "Where is my Father?" Ikasha asked. "Your father is badly wounded and had been transported to Zoram'gar" Thurg barely breathing answered
"Will he survive ? Answer me NOW!" Iksha replied furious about what happened "I don't know! My mission was to escort you" Thurg responded "What? How could you not know...." Mothrun " Iksha! He saved our lives you should thank him not yell at him"
"But...but ah... we need to go to Zoram'gar to see if my father is safe" Iksha started to calm down "Shhhhh... i think someone followed us. Don't move" as they hid in the bushes Thurg sent his wolf to run forward. In that moment two orcs rushed towards the wolf. Iksha got angry again "Now its the time to use the Blood Axe of Chaos" she thought. She quickly got the axe out and as quickly the axe got back to its normal size. She jumped on to one of the orcs, cut him in half and other orc was killed by Thurg's "Blacksteal Blade" . "How did you do that ?" at the same time Mothrun and Thurg asked Iksha "I didn't do anything! The axe did all itself" "You got better since we last had our practice duel" Thurg added.
"Well its no time for compliments on my fighting skills , we have to reach Zoram'gar to see if my father is safe" Iksha blushed even thought by orcs you almost cant see it because of the color of their skin, but this time was intense. They got ready and started riding to the nearest camp of the clan, to the camp Mor'shan .
As they approached Iksha's old friend and her father couldn't believe that she finally came to visit him.

"Iksha it had been a long since i saw you the last time . Eh, look at you! You became an Om'riggor(Adult in orchish)."
"I am glad to see you Burwh'at..." Iksha responded in a sad way "I know why are your sad, I have heard the news, the clan is weakening. We need to start striking back harder"
Iksha "I don't understand them! Why they want war? Those warlock thinks he cannot be beaten but as soon as my father recovers we will crush him! But for now we need a favor. We need a place to sleep, some food and to make supplies for our journey" "Everything for you Iksha" . After they had been invited to sleep at Burwh'at house and they ate the meal prepared by his wife, they stayed over the night. In the morning Iksha woke up Mothrun and Thurg, they packed and leaved leaving a note and some gold on the table.

They left on their own mounts, Iksha with an Kobo, Mothrun a raptor, and Thurg with his wolf. They got to Zoram'gar in a few hours. They bearly made a pause.
They arrived at the Camp of shamans. There two doctors and one shaman threated her father. "Iksha...you made it! ghuughughu...now i can rest...ahh..." The shaman cast a spell and the witch doctors gave him a potion that kept him alive "You now have to...ghuuuuu...lead the clan....i am to weak... Assemble the army and march to our boarders, if you have the axe that will protect you...ahh.. i wish i had spent more time with you..." Ikasha interrupts with him tears in her eyes "You will father you will survive and help me to win"

"I will always be with you my child same as the rest of our ancestors that have use the axe, their soul is after their death transformed into energy for the axe that makes it makes it so powerful. Ahh...my child...i will always be near you aghghhh..." that were the last words of Racen Se'ghor "Father no..." Iksha started crying, Mothrun " Iksha you need to be strong, you are now the clan leader....You have to be strong to unite us so there wont be any blood baths." Ikasha" Snif...I will revenge my fathers death! Raa'Ktnok I course you for all times and i will hunt you until i will kill you. Lok'tar ogar(Vitory or Death)" . They remained in the camp for a couple of days. Iksha had sent an letter to each army leader she knew personally and to each from the list that she got from the witch doctors who threated her father.

In 7 Days the biggest army possible to assemble for the clan had been assembled.
As the army had got assembled Iksha stode on a big rock and started to speach..
"Fellow orcs , Honorred warriors of the clan, Our great leaderRacen Se'ghor died and has chose me as the new leader!"
"But that's unpossible! A male had been always a clan leader" said Har'Gham the leader of the tar orcs from the north.
"How can you be the clan leader? Where is the Blood Axe of Chaos?" asked Narand the leader of the south orc army Lok'waz
"I do not care if you are a women or men I just want you to lead us to victory" said Hag'Losh te leader of the west Amon'nathal army.
"I agree with Hag'losh. We need a leader who will bring us victory no matter what" said Drog Tearshorn the leader of the East Tearshorn army.
"SILENCE !Yours new leader is speaking" Thurg interrupted the discussions.
"I will lead you to victory. Here is the Blood Axe of Chaos" She pulled out the axe"By the name of my ancestors and my father I will bring you victory Lok'tar(Victory)!Lok'tar Lok'tar Lok'tar"
"Lok'tar" Everyone screamed ...After that the leaders came up with a plan on how to end this War.

After 2 days the plan had been finished to perfection and should be carried out.
The first thing to do was to distract the enemy. Hag'losh had voluntired to attack a base camp of the Raa'KtnoK clan near the Zabijan Woods. In the maintain the enemy sent reinforcements from the nearest camp which was the main camp Bazv'ok . Hag'losh was known for his ability to command small groups of wolf riders precise onto the most vulnerable targets of a camp or a city. The attack should destroy the main watch towers and in the same time the gates but only should damage half of the camp warriors so some of them can go for reinforcements.
In the maintain the other forces would assemble in front of the Zabijan Woods where they would wait for a messenger.

Some scouts would be posted in the woods in case of discovering the Clan Se'aghor forces in front of it. After a day resting and preparing for the battle, Iksha gave the command to begin the war.
"Was it the right decision?" Iksha was thinking "Or will we all lose because of me? No i cant let that happen, and i never will. Its..yes the messenger "
"They have fallen in our trap attack now" messenger.
Iksha screamed the command "Attack !" On her right side were Thurg,Narand and on her left Drog Tearshorn, Har'Gham. In the main camp Alvanar the orcs were surprised. Even Raa'KtnoK was surprised to see such a big army.

"Its impossible! I killed their leader....How could this happen?? Call the reinforcements back now" Raa'KtnoK saidto his soon Greenwall who was his right hand. As Greenwall rushed to get reinforcements Clan Se'aghor was getting the upper hand over the battle. Iksha was slashing through the enemy, determined to revenge her father. She got a blood frenzy she couldnt stop killing. Suddenly she screamed
"Raa'KtnoK I have come to get you. You will pay for my fathers death and the death of thousands of orcs"
"You will never win this battle stupid girl....my powers are bigger then anyone elses"Raa'KtnoK responded
"Iksha the wolf riders are coming to us" Thurg yelled. "What? What are they doing?" thought she.
"What are you doing? You should attack the other camp!" Iksha told Hag'losh
"We did but suddenly they all left so we joined you"Hag'losh responded.
After an hour of battle there were many corps and many loses on both sides....
The only way to win the battle for Iksha was to kill Raa'KtnoK. "But to kill such a powerfull warlock? How can i do it?" she was thinking
"Use the axe my child! It is a powerful weapon that can kill everything if you have a good cause and believe in us"
She looked up to her axe covered with blood of the orcs and there was the face of her father. "Thank you father. Har'Gham,Narand,Hag'losh,Thurg , help me get to Raa'KnotK now!"
They started making a way through the massive army to the fearsome warlock. As they moved forward Iksha jumped over them and started cut a way through the orc masses like a knife through butter.

As she got to the warlock...."You are strong but not strong enough" said the warlock .
"I need only to be so strong to defeat you and stop this massacker" As they started fighting they didn't noticed anyone except their enemy.
The warlock started casting shadowbolts on her injuring her badly. She felt....The Warlock came near her and as he got ready for the finale blow...
"You will now perish like your father before you Iksha Se'aghor muahahah" She managed with her left strength to pull up the axe and hit the warlock...
"You cant kill me with a normal weapon I have a power shield hahahaha!" on which Iksha smiled "This isn't a normal weapon it contains the souls of my
ancestors!" as she said that on the Blood Axe of Chaos started to grow spikes and the axe itself started to grow passing trough the Power Shield of the
Warlock. "How did you do it? Thats unpossible" Raa'Ktnok changed the look on his face from convinced to scared. He never thought that this would happen...
"Little girl your still to weak to break my power shield...what the...." as he turned around Thurg and Har'Gham started to attack him.
The shield started to lose his power. "Maybe a little girl cant destroy your shield alone but with some help I WILL UNITE THE ORCS!!!" the Axe passed through the shield and the warlock's head rolled.
As the head of the warlock rolled the fight stopped... Thurg got to Iksha "We did it, I knew you can defeat him" Iksha "I couldn't done it without some help" Iksha lost her conscious....
"Mothrun huh? I had the strangest dream...I had to fight a war..." Mothrun " Child that wasn't a dream you were unconscious for 2 days, but your wounds are healed all and you could now return to your throne" "What happened to the rest of them" Iksha asked "Everyone returned home and awaits your order, except Thurg. He is still here"
Iksha jumped out of the bad and ran directly in to the arms of Thurg....
"Iksha you are saved...I am so glad" Iksha interrupt him "Shhh.. now its all over..."
"So a mighty hero like you Iksha sure has someone chosen to rule with her...."
Iksha "Hihihi....well that is my least worry...."

Thanks for all the tips I hope its more easy to read enjoy reading

 

[TwistedImage]

Garthul spilled more human blood: His entire family went out to fight them but he slaughtered them one by one…

This here sentence makes absolutely no sense to me. There are others like it too, but I don't care to drag out a dozen examples.

Aside from that, the only tip I can give you is to italicize what your characters think and put a comma at the end of every comment.

Example: Drat, he thought.

Example2: "He should've known better," said Bob.

 

[SilverEx]

there is none since he will come back... people can have a life besides The hive you know Oo (no offense again) but be sure he will return.

You're right, that I do.
Wow! This has come a long way in 12 days!
Sorry for my abscense everybody, I've started a new job and I work 2pm while 12am GMT monday through to thursday so this hasn't even entered my mind.

I need some judges, and need them fast, so PM me if your wanting to judge.
As for clarification of rules, most of your questiosn have been answered correctly already.
After Warcraft 2 means after the second game, so yes that can even be before Warcraft 3.
Ensure though not to make your story's too "out there" as they won't really be as enjoyable within the genre as others.
Heirloom is an object passed down between generations, not always limited to family either just as long as there's a reason to it being passed down.
Any others I will answer also.

 

[Coolty44]

Cool. I'm starting this weekend, I've been writing an essay for the last week, along with a few warm up stories that arn't related to warcraft. I think I've got my story shape formed, now to add the colors and textures. Fun.

 

[CaoSong]

so SilverEx... does my 5,501 word story qualify? XD

 

[Adiktuz]

The Twin Warglaives of Azinoth? That's their WoW name, at least.

okay thanks!

 

[idodik]

This here sentence makes absolutely no sense to me. There are others like it too, but I don't care to drag out a dozen examples.

I edited the sentence you mentioned, it really does look weird
Aside from that I didn't change anything. You could have made your response more constructive if you pointed out a good thing or two.
Thanks anyway.

 

[Silly Lil Ant]

Crazy Cow sighs
Don't turn this into an insult fight, please.
Now, reviews on stories:

Reviews

Solecompanysole

It is better, but there are still things wrong with it. Things like
"The story of the orcs is one that they only have been trough and they only could handle it"
are abound. The above would make more sense as
"The story of the Orcs is one that they alone could have lived through"
and other things like that where the wording is just... awkward. There are parts where the wrong words are capitalized (War Wolf, for example), and you don't capitalize the right ones (Orcs, for example [Yes, I am guilty of that error too]). You still have fixing up to do, but it is much better than your previous draft.

The World Is Flat

I like the fact that your story is from the viewpoint of a tree. That is certainly unique, although the story is hard to follow (the badger, for example, seems a bit random). I also don't see any kind of heirloom in it. It's pretty good, though, and is certainly creative.

Silly Lil Ant

It seems like a good story. No noticeable errors and such, but that first part about the Forsaken seems unnescesary.

Thank you for reading! I see what you mean, I shall remove it(unless I don't have enough words)!=]

 

[supertoinkz]

Can I still join? :C
I already had a "plot"

 

[Silly Lil Ant]

Can I still join? :C
I already had a "plot"

I think you can, the draft has to be done by the 25th of Feb though (i Think)

 

[supertoinkz]

okay, I'll try to write now
I'll post my 1st draft on tuesday afternoon

 

[The World Is Flat]

Tree

The Green River, The Little Tree, and Quirdly (pronounced: KWURDLEE) 

Over the green river, which came from the mountains in the east, was to be found a small tree. In the winter of this land, snow was not too prominent, and this tree would stand like a statue, watching the river. Then would come spring and the tree would bloom a thousand pedals of pink. The river would be full of salmon, and the little smooth pebbles at its base would be clearly visible. Bears would often come by, and what gave the little tree a great disgust was when they scratched their rumpuses on his trunk. The tree would reach down with a spindly twig and poke them behind the ears when such happened.
Summer would come, and the bears would move farther north following the salmon and searching for berries. Near the end of summer the clouds would be out heavily, and their would be storms that bathed the tree, or winds that would bend the tree… but the tree would be okay with all of that, for he wanted to prove to himself that he had the strength to withstand it. One day would come, so often thought the tree, when something really nasty would challenge his strength and courage.
Fall would be the next season to come, the next time for the little tree. He would sit there by the green river, watching colorful leaves float by; and would fall asleep many a time in the cool breeze blown from the mountains to the east. He loved the fall, the little tree did. He loved to drink from the cold, he loved to bask in the dying heat, the sweet relief of winters approach. This season he preferred to call ‘the unclenching of my leaves’. And it was that action that was the most joyous to him. For then he would rid himself of the rest of the years tarnish, and would stand alone, clean, unburdened, by the green stream.
Now, the green stream and the little tree were good friends. They would talk long through the days, and in the nights when the moon would send its silver rays of light down and the green river would feel like a river of priceless stone.
The green stream poured from the mountains in the east, but he zigzagged so far and wide that he seemed to be around every part of the land. As such, he knew a good deal of information. He and the little tree would talk endlessly about the affairs of the big folk, as they called Men. For it was Men that largely decided their fate. Men would chop trees or damn rivers, and other things would too of course, but for some reason Men were the most bothersome. The little tree did indeed fear Men, but he knew from the green river’s stories that Men were also kind. They planted trees, they tended to them, and they helped rivers… and even sailed upon them. To this end the green river and the little tree were very excited. They wanted to meet some big folk and talk to him, to learn of how they performed such great works.
One day, with a late-summer’s wind sighing in a clump of reeds at a bend in the green river, where a duck family where resting after a long swim, something quite unusual and exciting happened.
“I think someone is coming,” said the green stream in his sleek, gentle voice. And the two friends waited and listened to the trembles of the earth, which were too gentle to be a big person’s footfalls.
“A badger, by the feel of him,” said the little tree to the green stream.
“Aye,” responded the green stream.
Indeed, a badger was afoot. He was a little bloke, but with a fairly matured coat. Sleek, fluffy, and rightly stripped it was. “Rightly strippt’ed oi am!” sung the badger as he walked through the undergrowth of the forest.
“Rightly strippt’ed oi am, but don’t start tinkin’ I bisn’t cuddly!” This he said as he came upon the clearing where the little tree and green river awaited.
“Howdy, blokes!” called the mischievous badger.
“Quirdly, is that you?” asked the green river.
“Bet your pebbles oi am, green river ol’ friend! But hush now, don’t get all excitorial, or whatever the word.”
“Who are you, and what’s going on?” asked the little tree in a not impolite manner.
“Quirdly’s the name, as I’ve just heard said. But we can do the formalities later, right? Okay, anyway, be quiet.”
“Why?” asked the green river.
“Just do this,” and the badger put his furry paw to his mouth.
The little tree bent a tiny twig around to touch his trunk… not that this did much good, for the little tree could speak from any part of his body, for he possessed neither mouth nor vocal cords. What he possessed was something he called ‘the cuddly’.
There came presently a gasp, like a stone being flung off a mountain into thin air. Whether one of the creatures present gave the sound, or not, may never be known. The reason for its exclamation is about to be described, mark you, dear reader.
…
“Hurrawwl!” The cry came from the woods, and with it charged a figure tall and spindly, who shook the earth as a matador against a bull. The man, for it was a man, came brandished with a heavy club. This he carried in his right hand, which was stretched away from his body. The man was clothed in furs, and wore vast leather boots. He seemed to run, kicking up dirt and stones, but it was a strange run, even in the little tree’s eyes. The man was falling, and he fell with his head right at the base of the little tree. There were sticks in the man’s back, three of them, and from their points of injection bubbled forth a dark red substance.
The little badger sat curled up, shaking, very near where the man’s club had smashed into the earth. Before the little badger could pull himself together, another sound interrupted the air. Bushes were being thrust aside, trees scrapped against, dirt flung places… and there could be heard the sound of metal clinking, which the little tree had never known before.
Again from the forest came a man… he towered high like a bear on its rear legs. The little tree looked at him in absolute fear and in awe. Such a stranger… so fast… So thought the little tree. The newcomer looked first at the fallen man in the fur-coat, then to the little badger curled by the club, then to the green river, and finally to the little tree.
The man whispered “This place is magical…”
He rolled his right shoulder, which was covered in various plates of metal. He blinked his eyes, shadowed by a raised helmet-visor. He shifted his feet in the dirt, the metal of his boots scraping with the rocks. Then he lowered his left arm, to which was fixed a magnificent piece. A cross-bow, as it is known.
“Damn fine bastard,” he said, and spit at the fallen man. “You should not have run.”
Meanwhile the little badger had uncurled from his fit of fear, and scurried over to the little tree, climbed up his trunk, and sat cross-legged on one of the higher branches. The poor little tree was bent under the weight of even such a small creature.
A rush… a flash, a clang of metal…. Some other man had sprung from the woods, and there he lay near the fur-clothed man, blood sprouting from his severed neck as though flowers were growing there. The man in the armor wiped the blood from his blade on the little tree’s trunk, then sheathed it in the back of the fur-clothed man.
“Fools!” he roared, “Fools the lot of you to pursue me, you here?! Another one of you lays dead, fallen where I slew him with my neat blade. And know that it will not be so neat the next time it goes hunting. Thus I give my command… stay back!” His voice echoed around the mountains in the east, carried through the earth like a plague, vibrated it, and the little tree with the blood wiped on him felt sick.
Suddenly the armored man fell to his knees on the corpses, and then he slumped his back against the little tree. His head looked up toward the sky, and his eyes closed peacefully. “I am so sorry, little one,” the man muttered. He wrapped his arms backwards, around the tree, and hugged it with great strength. Suddenly he jerked, the man did, and that was when the blood started coming from his lips. It flew quickly out like a spray from a waterfall, at first… then, as time went by, it became a small trickle. Yet all the while it came out, the man muttered things to the tree, like ‘I am sorry, little one.’ A few times he even yelled out, to that invisible foe that he had called to before. Ah, but when he did this, he seemed to go white and more blood would poor out for a moment. But he kept it up… he kept his insane activity until his time passed, until he lay as a near skeleton in the armor.
No one came. No sound in the forest could be heard. The green river trickled gently, bathing the fear. A breeze sailed down from the fluffy clouds and rustled leaf and grass blade. The fur on the fallen men swayed to and fro like dark oceans.
Quirdly found himself clinging by all fours to the white bark of the little tree. Now, he gave a small shudder and his whole body slumped down onto a branch with a thud. “Oof… Oh, oi’m afeerd that t’wasn’t vury pleasant.”
The green river whispered agreement. His usually soft voice burdened with sadness.
Quirdly dragged a paw over his brow. “Moi furz gone all puffy-likes as if’n oi was a porcupine!”
The little tree felt something similar to a porcupine, writhing under his bark. He curled a small twig to stroke Quirdly’s belly. “Quirdly, did you know these big folk were coming?”
Quirdly nodded his head glumly. “Yes, oi nearly got squashed and flattened under my log by them! I didn’t evers moven moi paws so fast before. Oim never going backs to my log now; stayin’ up here in a nest oi will!”
“In a nest?” queried the little tree, curiously.
“Yes, uss’n badgers are good at makin’ nests in gurst trees like you. They make vury good homes they do.”
The little tree imagined what it would be like to have Quirdly living on him... it would make him feel very good to have another friend to speak to. “How big will your nest be?”
“Oh, we usually make them four times the size of uss’ns,” he stretched his paws out as far as he could, “’bout this size, see? ‘N layered in moss ‘n leaves ‘n bark and vury cuddly they are! ’N they make awfully gud storage fer morsels (which uss’n badgers are vury fond of, ‘specially ee berries ‘n pinecones). Oiz thinkin’ thos’ons people down there are loaded with good nest stuffs.”
Quirdly titled his head up and took a sniff of the air. He suddenly wrinkled his nose and scrunched his face in disgust. “Oh, but the smell t’won’t be comforting to moi gurst nose.”
“Do the humans make this stench?” asked the little tree.
“Oi yes, thems certainly do,” said Quirdly. “They musst’n ‘av taken thurr baths… an’ oi thinks thems givin’ off the stench o’ fear too.”
The little tree didn’t smell. He tasted the air in his bark. The powerful scent tasted foul to him. He felt heat seeping away from the man clad in armor. His blood was splattered about, saturating the ground, and the little tree could taste the peculiar flavor in his roots and bark.
“I can taste him…” he whispered.
Now, he felt the very life essence of the man draining straight into him, and he wanted to get away… to lift himself out of the ground… to run on legs as the men had. The thought sent little trembles through his trunk.
“The big folk return to the earth now,” said the green river. “I shall wash some of the blood away.” The little tree’s friend swelled up until his waters glided over the grassy banks and splashed the ground around the base of the tree. A tongue of water licked the little tree’s bark clean. The water was tinted red as it receded, leaving behind cleansed ground. “The feel of their energy is very strong,” said the green river. “It will pass on to many creatures.”
“The smell is much better now, it is!” exclaimed Quirdly. He scampered along a branch and leapt nimbly to the ground. “Oiz thinkin’ oi will start makin’ moi nest now.” With that, he began pawing at a piece of heavy dark metal armor. “Gurstedly good floor material this’n iss,” he muttered to himself.
Overhead, the sun was beginning to travel downward. The sky was a brilliant light blue, filled with massive tumbling clouds. The little tree and the green river knew these clouds meant a storm was coming.
“Quirdly, a storm will be coming tomorrow afternoon, by the looks of those clouds,” said the little tree. He surveyed the bank of white in the horizon. “It will be a strong one. You should make your nest fast.”
“Oh, oi certainly wills!” Quirdly replied, and speedily began assorting things that caught his eye: metal, a few leather straps, a chainmail glove, some red feathers, a piece of dark blue fabric, a bunch of reeds from the bank of the green river…
As he scurried hither and thither, he was jabbering excitedly to himself, talking about the many great plans he had for this and that. “Oi, yess’ns, this will makes on vury gud chimney fer moi nest!” He now held a small ivory horn in both paws. He wobbled around with it precariously, as it was nearly the same size as him. “Gursted, ‘tis nearly as big as oi am. Oi wonders what it is… Oh wells, nests needs chimneys regardless of what’n they are made of, if’n they are to have proper cookin’ pots a’workin’ in thems.”
“What’s a chimney?” wondered the little tree.
“Chimneys arrz gurst ventilations fer on steambuleez, or whatever yons are called that come from cookin’ pots. Good badger nests do need them, yes they do.”
The little tree was curious about what cookin’ pots were, but he decided to postpone his question.
The green river interjected helpfully, “Your chimney looks like a horn, Quirdly. Big folk once made a camp along my waters far to the west of here, and they had one. They made a great noise with it, like a hundred crashing waterfalls and a thousand crying birds.”
Quirdly gazed in fresh admiration at his future chimney. His eyes sparkled and he pawed at it with glee.
“You make the sound by blowing into the small end,” advised the green river.
Quirdly immediately put his little mouth to the small end, and blew…
“DEWWW-WOOOO!!” It sang. An echo sang back, “DEW-WOO!”
A flock of birds from a nearby grove of pine trees was startled and took to the air.
Quirldy beamed with pride. He performed a little dance on his hind paws. “Gosh, this’uns will do vury noicely!”
A mischevious look came over him, and he put his mouth to the horn and blew another fierce note. “DEWW-WOOOOO!!” the horn called out. Another echo answered back.
“Hmm,” Quirdly postulated, “Oi wonders what happens if’n Ois blow likes this…” The little badger puffed out his cheeks and tried making another sound with the horn. “BURRR-OOOOOO!!” the horn sang. “BUR-OO!” came an echo. Quirdly giggled.
The little tree liked the sound. It felt strong and friendly. He was also curious about the echo, which he had never heard before, because sounds as loud as the horn had not come to this land in his lifetime. “Why did it make two noises?” he asked.
“Oi thinks it must have a bruthur out thurs,” answered Quirdly. “Mayhaps we best go ‘n search fer him when oiz finish moi nest?”
The little tree tilted his trunk in a nod. He wanted to go exploring. He could practically feel his roots rising up out of the soil and swiftly propelling him on to an adventure. “I would love to accompany you, Quirdly.”
“Oi, goodz. Oi will needs moi nest to come with oi, oh yes oi will. When oi foinds ‘is bruthur then oi can have two chimneys!” The small badger looked delighted.
Now, he had a sizeable pile of nest materials. He began to haul them up the tree in huge armloads. The little tree barely held back a giggle at his comical appearance. He lowered a branch for the badger to climb on.
“Thank ee. Oi will make moi nest right here, if yons don’t moind,” he said, and plopped a bundle down in the crook of two branches at the little trees midrift.
“I don’t mind. That’s a very good place,” said the little tree happily. Quirdly’s little paws felt good on his bark.
“Alrighty, oi’ll be strappin’ this here right on loiks this.” He set to work setting up the floor for his nest.
Suddenly, a sound carried across the air from the north… “DWOOOO-DEW-WOOO!!”
Quirdly froze, his fur standing on end. Fear and wonder coursed through him. What was that? He scrutinized his horn suspiciously. “Did you…?” he hesitated, realizing his chimney hadn’t made the noise. He gazed out over the north woodlands where the sound had come from.
“Oh, that must be yons bruthur a callin’ fer yons.”
The green river hummed in a thoughtful manner. “Quirdly, I think one of the big folk made that sound with another horn. He probably believes your chimney was being blown by the big one you took it from. I heard that the Big Folk use chimn- I mean, horns, to send messages…”
The three friends wondered what messages had been sent back and forth. Had they unwillingly sent some kind of a message to men? If so, what was it? Would men come here, looking for the three men that now were returning their energies to the earth? Then, what would they do?
The green river was a very long and winding river, his waters stretching far. Some of his stretches flowed as swift as a gale wind, and others trickled peacefully. There was not much that escaped his notice… and presently, down one of his many streams, he noticed activity. He shared his findings. “Friends, I can sense big folk. They are to the north of here, where the sound came from. There are five of them and they ride on the backs of strange four-legged creatures.”
“Four-legged? Them’s sound loik mighty gurst large badgers, if’n they support ee on big folks!” exclaimed Quirdly.
“If they are badgers, they are very strange,” replied the green river. “They have no fur except on their tails and necks and they have long and thin legs.”
“Hmm… thems don’t sound loiks badgers. Mayhaps thems be dog beasts?”
“Perhaps, but they are much taller...”
The green river focused his energies on the little stream. He knew many things, but he was puzzled by these creatures that were now splashing through his waters with hooves clad in metal. One of the men called out a word and gave a pull on some straps that led to the creatures head, and the creature stopped. The man stroked its side, and whispered something inaudible; the creature lowered its head and began to drink from the green river. The other men bid their creatures to do the same. Some of the green river’s essence faded with every sip. The feel of the creature was very foreign, but pleasant. “The creatures are friendly.”
“How do you know?” asked the little tree.
“I can feel their essence. They are gentle.”
Suddenly, the green river noticed that one man held an ivory horn. “Quirdly, your chimney’s brother is with the big folk, and they are bringing him towards us.”
Quirdly scurried to the top of the little tree. He raised a paw to shade his eyes from the sun, and gazed out over the rolling landscape. “Oi can’t sees them. Where arz they?”
The green river responded, “Do you see the hill with the large oak on it? They are to the right of it.”
“Oi do sees the hill with ee oaker, but oi don’t sees them… moi gurst badger eye’s bees good., but ee gurst too fars off. Shall I send them a message with my chimney?”
The little tree did not see why not. “Go for it, Quirdly.”
The young badger scampered down to his nest and retrieved his chimney. He gave a powerful blast with it. “BERRRRR!!!”
The strange sound startled Quirdly. “Oi, that was ee peculiar sound.”
It was followed by a distant echo. “His bruthur!” Quirdly exclaimed, and gave another blow. “BERR-OOOOOOO!!”
The sound carried off over the treetops, and the echo rang back. The green river sensed that the big folk had heard the sound. They appeared very alert. Suddenly, they began yelling and slapping their mounts. The creatures hastened into action, charging forward as fast as a flying bird, leaving the green river’s waters behind. “They come swiftly!” said the green river.
As they faded from his senses, he saw one of the men raise his horn to his mouth. He blew, and the sound careened across the land. “DOOOOOOOO!!”
An echo answered it. Quirdly was puzzled by the echo. “Ee must have anuther bruthur,” he decided.
The little tree thought back on what the armor-clad man had said before life left him. He seemed to have been daring other big folk to come. He had told the little tree that he was sorry. Why did he say that? The little tree wondered. Had he done something terribly wrong? “What do you know of this big one,” the little tree asked the green river, gesturing with a twig to the man clad in armor.
“I have not seen his face before,” responded the green river gently. “But, the symbol on his chest plate is familiar.”
Indeed, there was a symbol on the man’s chest plate. It was a gold engraving that depicted three overlapping swords. They were each different; one had a straight double blade, another had a single curved blade, and the other was like the first but it had a three-pronged tip. The swords were encircled by a golden halo.

 

[The Panda]

Update

It was six in the morning, the sky had just began to sprout its wings. As Arthas and his troops have already started there journey towards enemy bases. Each of Arthas's soliders are very well trained and ready for anything that comes there way. As they advance through the wilderness towards there destination they encounter a band of creeps awaiting a fight. Running towards the enemy creeps, a archer unleashes his arrow and fires it towards a solider. The solider got his shield and protected himself from the firing arrow. Shortly after that, Arthas's army too over the band of creeps as they destroy them with every swing.
Cleaning the blood off there swords, Arthas thinks were to hit next on his journey. As he thinks, a traveler in the mist arrives with a note. He gives the not too Arthas. It reads “Dear Arthas, this is your father speaking. I need you to come back home to take care of your mother, she is very il and I cant be there for her. Sincerely, Garoth.”
At this time Arthas doesn't know what to do, go on his journey or help his mother. As he decides, his soldiers say “My lord, go to see your mother, well take care of the enemy bases” Arthas is shocked of what he is hearing, he says “My soldiers you are quite strong and ready for anything, but im not sure if your ready for what beholds in front of you.”
As the soldiers say “As that may be true my lord, we are yours to serve and yours to control.” We shall move on with our journey as I will contact my mother when I hit a town hall near by. The soliders say “Right away my lord” Arthas's troops and himself restart there journey towards enemy bases. Each solider thinking about whats going to happen ahead, they see a undead ghoul in the distance. After awhile it disappears in the forest, As Arthas says “Stand high troops, dont let them scare you.”
As the soldiers say “We will obey my lord.” The army moves on with there journey. Using there strength to get up the hill, each solider helps one another gain up the steep hill. Soon later, they have gotten on top of the hill. Continuing there journey towards the enemy bases, Arthas begins finding the location of the Town Hall to contact his mother. They see the Town Hall behind some trees ahead. Arthas says “My soldiers, wait here. I will return shortly.” The soldiers say “Right my lord.”
As the soliders wait patiently, The king makes his way towards the headquarters in the Town Hall. He finds his buddy “La'krea” they both introduce themselves, as they sit and talk, Arthas says “Sir id love to chat but I have to call my mother as she is very il.” La'krea says “Right my friend I understand I will see you some time.” After that, Arthas had called his mother. He found out she is doing fine and she is resting at home.
He was very happy to hear such words. Shortly after he rushed outside to find his soliders awaiting him. As Arthas says “Soldiers stand high! I found out my mother is doing fine and she is resting, also I got word from my friend “La'krea” that the enemy bases we were going too where already overrun by the orc forces. So now we shall head towards the runic highlands an hour away too ambush the orcs.” The soldiers say “Right away my lord.” Arthas and his army advances towards the runic highlands for the ambush. Each solider is ready and armored for battle.
15 minutes away from where they are headed, in the distance they see an orc warrior chanting “Victory!” “Victory!” A soldier throws a throwing knife at the orc, missing him by an inch. That one knife had just started the War of Nazareth. Arthas's army charges upward toward the orc warrior. The orc warrior rushes away towards his army behind the forest. Both forces look at each other, willing to do anything to survive. Everyone is still, no one is moving. Awaiting the right time for that one attack. Each side staring deeply at each other, after that short dilemma the orc leader “Malak” stared walking towards the human forces. Malak says “So you humans think you can walk on our grounds? No no I dont think so.” Arthas says “You little orcs have no land of yours, this land is ours and will not be overrun by you dumb orcs.” Malak says “Haha, your funny human. We orcs have much more power than you, we will take over anything we please.” Arthas says “Lets watch and see, shall we?” Arthas returns to his troops, as Malak returns to his. After a split second each of the forces rush towards each other in raging hate. “Charge!” says Arthas and Malak. As the skys fill with blood the ground trembles with agony. Swords flying, bodys falling. This day is coming to an end as each team is tiring down as we speak. As the battle still goes on, a creature of the name “Furion” appears in the distance. Furion says “Stop this mindless violence, this isn't anyones land but mother nature itself, you will accomplish nothing by killing people.” The battle stops tremendously. Arthas says “Now how do you know that? This land is anyones for the taking.” Furion says “As you may not know I am the dweller of the land you stand on now, and as this battle goes on this land is being hurt by your little swords and blood spilled bodys.” Arthas says “This may be true my friend, as this is your land now but it is ours in battle.” Furion says “As you wish my human friend.” Shortly after the speech, the battle starts again. Each side losing soliders at an enormous rate. The humans are pushing there way through the orcs with tremendous force. As the orcs fall, the humans are one step closer to victory. The battle is almost at the end, as the humans are overpowering the orcs. Arthas finishes off Malak as the humans begin to win. Malak says his last words “You humans will never take over this land.. uhh.” Arthas says “We shall and we will, be gone with you!” Arthas slices Malak's throat. Minutes after the human forces gather there wounded, to bring too the nearest town for medicine and proper resting. On there way towards the nearest town they encountered Arthas's friend “La'krea” again. La'krea says “Arthas come quick! I got word that more undead bases have been spotted upon Autumn Hills just by the Kuric River!” Arthas says “Right, soliders! Gather up, we have got a battle on our hands.” Follow me Arthas, says La'krea. Arthas, La'krea, and there soliders head towards the undead bases for the final battle between good and evil. Traveling through the forest, making there way towards there destination, when a mysterious creature appeared. As the creature says “My name is Illidan, you may not pass through this forest.” Arthas says “We will pass, but we have to go through you frist.” Illidan says “Do you think you will defeat me that easy? Haha.” Suddenly, Illidan summons four demons then disappears into the wind. Arthas commands his soliders to fight the four furious demons that stand in front of him.
As the soliders continue to find the demons, Arthas looks for traces of the Illidan creature they once saw. Finishing off the demons, Arthas calls his soliders over. Lets go, we dont have time to sit here and wait, Arthas says. Arthas and La'krea continue to the undead bases, as they watch there surroundings.

I wish there was something else we could put our submissions in, because this is quite a little space.

 

[CaoSong]

yea... I'm still wondering if I can snake by with my 5,501 words >.<; want to know now if I have to re-write it somewhat to make it shorter

 

[Traxamillion]

Since its a rough draft your fine but, for the final your probably going to have to stay within the limit.

 

[idodik]

Update

It was six in the morning, the sky had just began to sprout its wings. As Arthas and his troops have already started there journey towards enemy bases. Each of Arthas's soliders are very well trained and ready for anything that comes there way. As they advance through the wilderness towards there destination they encounter a band of creeps awaiting a fight. Running towards the enemy creeps, a archer unleashes his arrow and fires it towards a solider. The solider got his shield and protected himself from the firing arrow. Shortly after that, Arthas's army too over the band of creeps as they destroy them with every swing.
Cleaning the blood off there swords, Arthas thinks were to hit next on his journey. As he thinks, a traveler in the mist arrives with a note. He gives the not too Arthas. It reads “Dear Arthas, this is your father speaking. I need you to come back home to take care of your mother, she is very il and I cant be there for her. Sincerely, Garoth.”
At this time Arthas doesn't know what to do, go on his journey or help his mother. As he decides, his soldiers say “My lord, go to see your mother, well take care of the enemy bases” Arthas is shocked of what he is hearing, he says “My soldiers you are quite strong and ready for anything, but im not sure if your ready for what beholds in front of you.”
As the soldiers say “As that may be true my lord, we are yours to serve and yours to control.” We shall move on with our journey as I will contact my mother when I hit a town hall near by. The soliders say “Right away my lord” Arthas's troops and himself restart there journey towards enemy bases. Each solider thinking about whats going to happen ahead, they see a undead ghoul in the distance. After awhile it disappears in the forest, As Arthas says “Stand high troops, dont let them scare you.”
As the soldiers say “We will obey my lord.” The army moves on with there journey. Using there strength to get up the hill, each solider helps one another gain up the steep hill. Soon later, they have gotten on top of the hill. Continuing there journey towards the enemy bases, Arthas begins finding the location of the Town Hall to contact his mother. They see the Town Hall behind some trees ahead. Arthas says “My soldiers, wait here. I will return shortly.” The soldiers say “Right my lord.”
As the soliders wait patiently, The king makes his way towards the headquarters in the Town Hall. He finds his buddy “La'krea” they both introduce themselves, as they sit and talk, Arthas says “Sir id love to chat but I have to call my mother as she is very il.” La'krea says “Right my friend I understand I will see you some time.” After that, Arthas had called his mother. He found out she is doing fine and she is resting at home.
He was very happy to hear such words. Shortly after he rushed outside to find his soliders awaiting him. As Arthas says “Soldiers stand high! I found out my mother is doing fine and she is resting, also I got word from my friend “La'krea” that the enemy bases we were going too where already overrun by the orc forces. So now we shall head towards the runic highlands an hour away too ambush the orcs.” The soldiers say “Right away my lord.” Arthas and his army advances towards the runic highlands for the ambush. Each solider is ready and armored for battle.
15 minutes away from where they are headed, in the distance they see an orc warrior chanting “Victory!” “Victory!” A soldier throws a throwing knife at the orc, missing him by an inch. That one knife had just started the War of Nazareth. Arthas's army charges upward toward the orc warrior. The orc warrior rushes away towards his army behind the forest. Both forces look at each other, willing to do anything to survive. Everyone is still, no one is moving. Awaiting the right time for that one attack. Each side staring deeply at each other, after that short dilemma the orc leader “Malak” stared walking towards the human forces. Malak says “So you humans think you can walk on our grounds? No no I dont think so.” Arthas says “You little orcs have no land of yours, this land is ours and will not be overrun by you dumb orcs.” Malak says “Haha, your funny human. We orcs have much more power than you, we will take over anything we please.” Arthas says “Lets watch and see, shall we?” Arthas returns to his troops, as Malak returns to his. After a split second each of the forces rush towards each other in raging hate. “Charge!” says Arthas and Malak. As the skys fill with blood the ground trembles with agony. Swords flying, bodys falling. This day is coming to an end as each team is tiring down as we speak. As the battle still goes on, a creature of the name “Furion” appears in the distance. Furion says “Stop this mindless violence, this isn't anyones land but mother nature itself, you will accomplish nothing by killing people.” The battle stops tremendously. Arthas says “Now how do you know that? This land is anyones for the taking.” Furion says “As you may not know I am the dweller of the land you stand on now, and as this battle goes on this land is being hurt by your little swords and blood spilled bodys.” Arthas says “This may be true my friend, as this is your land now but it is ours in battle.” Furion says “As you wish my human friend.” Shortly after the speech, the battle starts again. Each side losing soliders at an enormous rate. The humans are pushing there way through the orcs with tremendous force. As the orcs fall, the humans are one step closer to victory. The battle is almost at the end, as the humans are overpowering the orcs. Arthas finishes off Malak as the humans begin to win. Malak says his last words “You humans will never take over this land.. uhh.” Arthas says “We shall and we will, be gone with you!” Arthas slices Malak's throat. Minutes after the human forces gather there wounded, to bring too the nearest town for medicine and proper resting. On there way towards the nearest town they encountered Arthas's friend “La'krea” again. La'krea says “Arthas come quick! I got word that more undead bases have been spotted upon Autumn Hills just by the Kuric River!” Arthas says “Right, soliders! Gather up, we have got a battle on our hands.” Follow me Arthas, says La'krea. Arthas, La'krea, and there soliders head towards the undead bases for the final battle between good and evil. Traveling through the forest, making there way towards there destination, when a mysterious creature appeared. As the creature says “My name is Illidan, you may not pass through this forest.” Arthas says “We will pass, but we have to go through you frist.” Illidan says “Do you think you will defeat me that easy? Haha.” Suddenly, Illidan summons four demons then disappears into the wind. Arthas commands his soliders to fight the four furious demons that stand in front of him.
As the soliders continue to find the demons, Arthas looks for traces of the Illidan creature they once saw. Finishing off the demons, Arthas calls his soliders over. Lets go, we dont have time to sit here and wait, Arthas says. Arthas and La'krea continue to the undead bases, as they watch there surroundings.

I wish there was something else we could put our submissions in, because this is quite a little space.

I noticed several mistakes in your story:

As Arthas and his troops have already started there journey towards enemy bases.

Nothing says what happened as they started their journey.

a archer

The solider got his shield and protected himself from the firing arrow

I would recommend writing "The soldier, which had his shield, blocked the arrow which was fired at him".

Shortly after that, Arthas's army too over the band of creeps as they destroy them with every swing.

Wut. Perhaps it's took over? And perhaps you should change "destroyed them with every swing" to "weakened them with every swing", and also, with every swing of what?

Sadly, this is just about the first paragraph.
Please don't get me wrong, your impressions in the story are very interesting, but the grammar here and there lower their level.

 

[Phoonix]

Shoot... i totally forgot about this oO. well I'll have to drop out :/ no inspiration anymore and I'm just way to busy...

 

[TwistedImage]

I would recommend writing "The soldier, which had his shield, blocked the arrow which was fired at him".

That'd be the soldier who had his shield. If you're gonna use which, you have to use its as well, which looks quite silly in that context.

 

[idodik]

That'd be the soldier who had his shield. If you're gonna use which, you have to use its as well, which looks quite silly in that context.

Example? I want to be sure of what you mean.

 

[TwistedImage]

"The soldier, which had his shield, blocked the arrow which was fired at him".

Now, since you're using the word "which," using the word "his" along with it is wrong seeing as our dear subject is a human(oid). If you use "which," you have to use "its" instead of "his" afterwards. Regardless, using "which" and "its" about a human(oid) isn't correct.

Now, you don't have to overcomplicate your language either. A simple way to avoid any errors is to simply type "The soldier blocked the arrow with his (insert adjective here) shield."

 

[RoleplayingKing]

Aw..I would enter but I don't want to have to do something based on lore D:

 

[idodik]

Ahh, here we go. I went over the story and corrected some mistakes or things that weren't clear. I might go over it again or change something due to feedback, but if I don't this would be my final version of the story.

Battle of the Two Hills

Battle of the Two Hills
By idodik
The battle was at its peak, and Garthul Shadowblade swung his mighty blade and split three human footmen in half. They were pathetic for him, after all those years of training that he excelled in, and because of something else. Garthul nearly began to ponder how fortunate he was when more footmen came striding to attack. He used an old blademaster trick: he merely split his image and let them lunge at his copies while he attacked them from the back. It wasn't difficult; he was vengeful after what their leader, Silthar, did to the orcs after the death of his precious Admiral Proudmoore. Garthul spilled more human blood: His entire family went out to fight them but that human slaughtered them one by one… But he's not going to fail, not with what Thrall himself has given him.
More footsteps at his back, and he turned to greet three knights charging at him, but this time he heard some friendly calls from the opposite direction, and Moojis, a Far Seer, smote them down with his chain lightning. He had been fighting for hours now and had already adapted to the changing tide of battle. He jumped on Moojis's wolf and they rushed down the battlefield, joining tens of orcs that were fighting against the human treachery. As they rode Garthul smote down four footmen that jumped at them, and then he felt as if his hand was burning. He did not drop his blade but suddenly felt weakness, and swayed on the wolf. His hand rose in the air, uncontrollable, shaking and surrounded by strange red energy, and fired a bolt of scarlet: at first at nothing, but soon a mage appeared out of nowhere, screaming with pain, dropped to the ground, and was soon trampled to his end.
Garthul regained control but was still shocked. He did not pay much attention to the awkward sensation that he had gone through, but thought: invisibility? He did not believe that Silthar allowed this; after all Silthar was known as a jealous warrior that never used magic and believed only in the blade. Few orcs had rumored that he called mages to serve him, but Garthul denied their words and claimed they were deceived. Now it turns out he was the one being deceived… He himself had participated in the assault on Proudmoore's castle so he remembered Silthar's face, but the foolish human general had escaped and claimed Theramore Isle as his, despite his cowardice in battle.
It had been only a week, and Garthul forgot how unexpected Silthar was.
Moojis stopped his wolf and called back to Garthul, "Who was it?"
"Mages", Garthul grunted, still shocked from the incident.
Moojis fell from his wolf, and shouted at Garthul, "Don't you say that word for nothing!" Moojis had been burned by one in his childhood, in the earlier battles for Durotar. It was the only thing he spoke unkindly of.
Garthul stumbled and landed shaken on the ground. "I'm not joking, Moojis. I think that mage was about to kill us".
Moojis stopped rumbling for a moment, and stared at him. Garthul could read the deep anxiety on his face, and asked, "Do you think he knows about Garkarath?"
Moojis returned to earth and said, "No, that's unlikely, but it's still dangerous – he probably just fears those fighting skills of yours and wants you killed to complete the series".
Garthul looked thankfully at Garkath, the small scarlet-black ring that just saved his life. "If so, let him come forth. I'll crush him."
"Don't let yourself fly into his arms; he may have an ambush waiting for you. He might not know about your ring but he probably has some scam waiting anyway".
Garthul nodded. Sometimes bloodlust needs to make way for thinking ahead.
"Let's split up: you help the troops and I'll follow deep behind. That way when the time comes I'll be able to show up and kill that stupid human".
Moojis smiled and said, "Acceptable. Take care".
"Go! I'll be waiting".

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

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

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

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

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

He had forgotten how pathetic Silthar was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EDIT:

Aw..I would enter but I don't want to have to do something based on lore D:

RoleplayingKing, I'm telling my own story and it's barely affected by the lore, only limited by it. ^^ If you really want to write a story of your own, you could just invent some way it's connected to the lore.

And TwistedImage, thanks for explaining! I understand now.

 

[The Panda]

I noticed several mistakes in your story:

Nothing says what happened as they started their journey.


I would recommend writing "The soldier, which had his shield, blocked the arrow which was fired at him".

Wut. Perhaps it's took over? And perhaps you should change "destroyed them with every swing" to "weakened them with every swing", and also, with every swing of what?

Sadly, this is just about the first paragraph.
Please don't get me wrong, your impressions in the story are very interesting, but the grammar here and there lower their level.

Thanks man ill update it.

 

[TwistedImage]

Garthul spilled more human blood: His entire family had went out to fight them but that human slaughtered them one by one…

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

But he's not going to fail, not with what Thrall himself has given him.

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

but this time he heard some friendly calls from the opposite direction

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

He had been fighting for hours now and had already adapted to the changing tide of battle.

Who? Garthul? Moojis? Clarify.

joining tens of orcs

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

Moojis stopped his wolf and called back to Garthul, "Who was it?"

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

Moojis fell from his wolf

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

Moojis stopped rumbling for a moment, and stared at him

Stopped rumbling? Was he yelling at Garthul? Or did you mean "mumbling?" Additionally, try "stared at Garthul" for clarification.

Do you think he knows about Garkarath?

Garthul looked thankfully at Garkath.

Are these two different things, or the same?

Don't let yourself fly into his arms

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

He might not know about your ring but he probably has some scam waiting anyway

Place a comma after "your ring."

Let's split up: you help the troops and I'll follow deep behind

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

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

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

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

 

[Momo]

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

 

[Silly Lil Ant]

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

 

[busterkomo]

Did the piece read well? Did you find yourself easily following the plot and writing or was it hard to read and understand?

I shouldn't have to oversimplify my writing for idiots.

 

[Pyritie]

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

 

[CMarket]

Plot Structure	Was the plot exciting and did you genuinely enjoy reading the story? Did it follow a good line or did it make little sense and jump around too much without taking into consideration previous events? Were problems resolved well or in a way that seemed obvious or contrived?	10 Points
Characters & Development	Were the characters memorable and realistic? Could you easily imagine the characters being portrayed or did you have a hard time picturing them and finding them believable?	10 Points
Flow	Did the piece read well? Did you find yourself easily following the plot and writing or was it hard to read and understand?	10 Points
Descriptions and Scenes	How was the overall feeling of the world that had been created, was it exciting and vivid or lacking in detail and attention?	10 Points

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

 

[SilverEx]

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

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

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

 

[TwistedImage]

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

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

It's means it is.

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

 

[idodik]

Another edition of the story, thanks to TwistedImage! xD

Battle of the Two Hills

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had forgotten how pathetic Silthar was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

[TwistedImage]

His entire family had gone out to fight him and his kinsmen

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

was a one to behold,

Remove the a.

Archimonde, that

Try "Archimonde, who." Humanoid.

couldn’t

Proper apostrophe please.

Now that the orcs had grown independent, they have

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

destroyed the orc that wielded it and caused it to fling through the dark portal into Azeroth,

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

bloody screams of pain

Bloody screams try blood-curdling?

More to come!

 

[NearbyHermit]

hmmm...

Idea

After Arthas defeated Illidan at Icecrown, a young warrior that was wandering around the continent saw Illidan's body and obtained the glaives (does it have a specific name?)...

So ?

That means your main theme is Illidan?

 

[Witch Doctor]

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

 

[ubran]

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

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

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

More detail to come.

 

[TwistedImage]

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

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

 

[idodik]

More to come!

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

BTW, I think I'll credit you for your grammar corrections

 

[TwistedImage]

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

 

[ubran]

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

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

 

[Silly Lil Ant]

An update on my story =]

Two races are better than one!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

[idodik]

Silly Lil Ant, your story is very interesting, however there are some drawbacks to it:
Firstly, the first several paragraphs are very confusing, and are partially not needed. They confuse the reader and make him think that perhaps Arthas, Sylvanas or Rivena Swiftwright are the heroes. I think you should change the way those paragraphs are built, especially the one regarding the Forsaken (it has nothing at all to do with the story, and if you'd like to mention it I suggest you write only "In Lordaeron, now home of the Forsaken").
Secondly, your expressions are very rich but you have some incorrect use of adjectives and verbs:

"Charlie I know you will object to this"

It would be more correct for this case, imo, to use "I know you will not like this,".
I suggest you go over what you have of your story now and correct it here and there, that way I believe you will have examples for future reference.
Thirdly, a more minor drawback, you have a slightly incorrect use of punctuation marks. Sometimes no punctuation marks at all: "at that moment Charlie ran in" (end of paragraph), or sometimes a confusing use of them:

Hordes of ghouls rushed round the corner, “Attack!” With that the archers at the back fired their bows

Very confusing, perhaps should be changed to:

Hordes of ghouls rushed round the corner. A should was heard: “Attack!”, and with it the archers at the back fired their bows

I have given some examples and hope you take my say seriously. Good luck with continuing your story!