Story & Lore Mini-Contests ~ Reincarnation of a Dead Soldier

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A dead soldier is rising back from the dead. Your task is to summon your ideas and write a story of what has possibly happened. Roll out anything, as long as it is original and creative!



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25 reputation for the winner & every contestant shall receive 5 reputation each!

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Dragonson

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  • Entries' length is up to you to decide. However, entries that exceed the 5000 words are not recommended.
  • All work must be the entrants own. No plagiarism of any kind is allowed.
  • Submissions must satisfy the stated theme.
  • The entry must be made specifically for the Story & Lore Mini-Contest ~ Reincarnation of a Dead Soldier.
  • Entrants must submit at least 1 WiP of their work before the deadline.
  • All entries must be written in well structured English. Entries that contain 1337-talk, experience several and/or severe grammatical issues will be rejected.
  • All entries must follow the site's rules.
  • Poems are allowed.



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The Story & Lore Mini-Contest "Reincarnation of a Dead Soldier" shall begin on 30th of July and conclude on 20th of August.
 
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Level 17
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I dont quite understand the theme... Write about a dead soldiers Resurrection? Nothing specific has to happen [ besides the revival ]? Can it be a fictional soldier? Does soldier make it limited being affiliated with an army?
 
Level 12
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A dead soldier is rising back from the dead. Your task is to summon your ideas and write a story of what has possibly happened. Roll out anything, as long as it is original and creative!

When you mean possibly, do you mean how he died and was resurrected or what he did after he was revived?

And how do we write any lore on this?
 
Level 20
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2,999
It's not a question of what you're allowed to do, it's what YOU are capable of doing.
How do you see that story? What can you come up with, in relation to that information?
As long as it refers to the resurrection, I'm sure you could put any spin you like on it, that is the freedom of writing.

“A person is a fool to become a writer. His only compensation is absolute freedom. He has no master except his own soul, and that, I am sure, is why he does it”

- Roald Dahl
 
You can spin the wheel! It can either contain information about the past or the present. The past is what led to the death of the soldier and who or what resurrected him. The present is him being resurrected: what happens now, e.g. he is resurrected back in the battlefield where he died.

It can be as fictional as you like (though resurrection has already made it fictional).
 
Level 17
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I'M IN...! But...

I guess I can give this contest a try (again)...
I already have a story in mind (well, not directly about a resurrected/reincarnated warrior but the idea is pretty close... I think)...

And regarding these statements;
  • 25 reputation for the winner & every contestant shall receive 5 reputation each!
I would suggest the Reputation reward for the winner remain the same, however only contestants who submitted their completed work or at least a WIP will receive the 5 Reputation award.

  • All entries must be written in well structured English prose. Entries that contain 1337-talk, experience several and/or severe grammatical issues will be rejected.
What does it mean by 1337-talk...? I do not understand this part of the requirement/condition...
 
Level 17
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I thought i would post a little teaser WiP. Tell me what you think of my intro :)

Black liquid was dripping all over his face, he struggled as hard as he could, putting all his force into the task. It wouldn’t seem to budge, and then finally it moved. “Try it now,” the man said, rubbing his eyes. The engine huffed and groaned, but to no avail. “Damn I thought that would work,” said the man, oil all over his arm and face. “It’s okay Johnny, you can’t fix them all,” said an older man at the wheel of the 1990 Ford Ranger. “Yeah I know, but this one is important to me.” Johnny said as he put his hand through his hair in frustration. The old man put a shoulder to his hand in sympathy, “I’ll have George look at it, if he can’t fix it no one can.” He smiled his kindly smile, his wrinkles bunching up along his forehead and eyes. Johnny looked at him and gave a small smile. He was young and full of energy, his chin was sculpted and his jaw was powerful but he had a soft smile that could make any girl swoon. “Thanks Phil, I should get home my Ma is bound to be worried by now.” “Well get off then, tell Jillian I said hi,” Phil said as he smacked Johnny’s back, then he gave him a sad look, “How’s your Pa.” Johnny didn’t turn to look at the old man; he just stared off into the setting sun. It was moments before he realized Phil had asked him a question, “Still the same.” He said, and without another word he went to his car.
 
Level 17
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Its just a first draft, i have not gone back in to replace weak words yet, or replace some phrasing, and add some more dialect to the dialogue, i just wanted to let my ideas out before i forget them. Im sure anybody who writes knows that feeling, and it sucks. But what i have now is more for me then for you guys, i just wanted to show where i was heading toward, but there were some things on that website that were helpful so thank you.
 
Level 11
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Blood gushed out of the creature’s open wound, it let out a piercing screech that battered the man’s ear-drum, he stood tall above the creature; his sword impaled hilt deep into the beasts abdomin.
The creature clawed at the man for a few moments and then the weight of its limp body slid itself off the blade onto the ground. The creature twitched its leg before laying motionless in its own fluids.
The man sheathed his weapon and took in his surroundings. He was in a small cave the exit a few metres in front of him, and the ever darkening path leading to who knows where.
Also laying motionless in the cavern were the bodies of the creature’s brothers and sisters.


Tell me what you think
Updated and a thank you to InfinateAnswers for helping me with my Bold grammar
 
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Level 17
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Blood gushed out of the creature’s open wound, it let out a piercing screech that battered the man’s ear-drum, he stood tall above the creature; his sword impaled hilt deep into the beasts abdomin.
The creature clawed at the man for a few moments and then the weight of its limp body slid itself off the blade onto the ground. The creature twitched its leg before laying motionless in its own fluids.
The man sheathed his weapon and took in his surroundings. He was in a small cave the exit a few metres in front of him, and the ever darkening path leading to who knows where.
*Consider re-wording this paragraph*Also in the cavern were the bodies of the creature’s brothers, laying there, some of them still twitching, there were stalagmites pointing up from the floor and stalactites pointing down from the roof, he made his way towards the cave mouth.



I like it, it leaves a lot of questions like who is this man? what are the creatures? Why was he in a spooky cave?

Bold are grammar and spelling problems, Italics were suggestions i thought would make it stronger.
 
Level 4
Joined
Jun 21, 2012
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66
Im In!

I best throw my hat into the ring as well...here goes:
START
Fear would best describe the look in the man's eyes. Whether he could call himself a man was debatable, at least, with how he now was...by old Dalaran he thought. How...how did I
"Survive?" said a cold, but familiar voice.
The man wheeled around, wondering if he was merely imagining it. However the unnaturally beautiful woman standing before him, was quite real. She was almost perfectly sculpted, every aspect and ratio of her body even and well toned. Her hair was bright fire red as were her lips. The only thing to hint of how dangerous she was, were her bright blue eyes, having no white in them...no trace of humanity.
"I have returned, Zeke..." the woman said coldy, her voice seemingly like her body, perfect yet absent of humanity.
The man wasted no time in running to her and bowing on one knee, his head low and the massive axe in his hand lain against the floor.
"My lady..." he said, as if though she were his mother. His face now was iluminated in the moonlight, a skinless rotting muscled face.
"Rise..." she said motioning with her hand, he face now holding a slight grin at his devotion. "I have returned...and am in need of you once more, my faithful servant."
He nodded and saluted her with his head bowed low "I serve the Crimson Lady through death...What is your wish?" he said, his eyeless sockets looking at her.
She smiled wider still, her pearly white fangs glistening in the moonlight. "I have woken you, to ask you to retrieve something of mine...My diary" she said, very casually.
To any observers, this request would seem rather silly, but Zeke had served his mistress long enough to know what the Diary had allowed her to do. "I shall not fail my lady."
"Good, it seems it has returned to live inside my first husband's crypt." she said, as if it was normal for books to have thoughts and feelings. "I spent centuries of effort capturing that book...I will not tolerate losing it, understood?"
Zeke nodded and bowed again "It shall be done..." he said calmly and, after being dismissed, took off into the night...
It wasn't finding the Crypt that proved difficult, infact given how much time had passed, it was rather easy. The harder part came into sneaking in without detection. It was never said but Zeke knew his mistress would want to keep her greatest weapon intact...surprise, and that would have surely disappeared, had he decided to kill the guards. So, waiting as patiently as he had when dead, he finally made it into Count Vladik's crypt.
Count Vladik's crypt was obviously magical in nature, since the architecture looked as clean and new as it was when first built. Zeke could sense the power of the Diary beneath his feet...he slowly walked toward a darkened staircase. The Diary was no ordinary book, it was the key to Countess Vladik's rise to power, the key to her ability to summon demonic forces. Zeke knew that the Diary had a will of its own, and would not come easily. Where are you? he said to himself, more to keep his wits about. He suddenly stopped dead, his instincts and knowledge giving him a "sixth sense". Before him was a long passage way, lit by the faint light of torches. About midway, flanking both sides, were two large statues, each of an armored knight holding a sword. He crept slowly down the passage, readying his axe. He had just past them when an unmistakable sound, like rock and dust moving, made him turn. He leaped up just in time to dodge the left statue's stone shattering slash. He promptly landed on its shoulder and with one swift slice, cut its head clean off. The statue was now frozen, but with no time to react, Zeke caught the second one's blow hard. Not dead, refusing to disobey his mistress he raised his axe and cut the stone sword in two, lifting the cracked half and chucking it clean through the statues head, and it too joined its comrade, eternally frozen. Brushing off the dust, he walked on...
Navigating magical traps, creeps and crawlies, and all manner of obstacles, Zeke pressed on, until finally he had reached the Tomb Chamber. Floating on a pedestal, was the Diary. as Zeke approached it, he heard a demonic laughing, echoing in the hollowed chamber. As the laughing died, a voice in that demonic tone spoke.
"You cannot have what you seek to gain!" The voice said amused.
"I will pry it from whereever you hide it! Voices with no bodies do not frighten me." He said, still walking on to the Diary. "I will take th-" his words were cut off, as a massive green flamed blade peirced his chest, demonic runes covering the blade.
"How about voices WITH bodies?" the now visible demon laughed. "The diary shall...not...wh...what the??" The demon said surprised.
Zeke was laughing softly, but his body was not moving. The laughter grew louder, more hysterical, and slightly demonic. When at last it reached its high note, Zeke Screamed in fury as his whole body was engulfed in unmistakably demonic blue flame, as the sword melted away, freeing him, he turned to the demon, still laughing.
"I told you...I...am...not...leaving..." He said as he leaped into the air and raised his axe. "WITHOUT THAT DIARY!!!!" He roared as he brought his axe crashing down, cleaving the demon in two, his screams and shreiks slowly dying as he dissappated into green flame and finally...silence. Zeke then turned to the Diary, his body now skelatal, and where skin was exposed in the armor, the blue flames remained. He walked up to the pedestal and took it. then in a whoosh of blue flame, he vanished...to return to his mistress.
END
There ya go ^_^ my submission to be judged as deemed however.
 
Last edited:
Level 4
Joined
Jun 21, 2012
Messages
66
Oops xD

Saw that I had to have at least one WIP before submission xD so here it is

Fear would best describe the look in the man's eyes. Whether he could call himself a man was debatable, at least, with how he now was...by old Dalaran he thought. How...how did I
"Survive?" said a cold, but familiar voice.
The man wheeled around, wondering if he was merely imagining it. However the unnaturally beautiful woman standing before him, was quite real. She was almost perfectly sculpted, every aspect and ratio of her body even and well toned. Her hair was bright fire red as were her lips. The only thing to hint of how dangerous she was, were her bright blue eyes, having no white in them...no trace of humanity.
"I have returned, Zeke..." the woman said coldy, her voice seemingly like her body, perfect yet absent of humanity.
The man wasted no time in running to her and bowing on one knee, his head low and the massive axe in his hand lain against the floor.
"My lady..." he said, as if though she were his mother. His face now was iluminated in the moonlight, a skinless rotting muscled face.
"Rise..." she said motioning with her hand, he face now holding a slight grin at his devotion. "I have returned...and am in need of you once more, my faithful servant."
He nodded and saluted her with his head bowed low "I serve the Crimson Lady through death...What is your wish?" he said, his eyeless sockets looking at her.
She smiled wider still, her pearly white fangs glistening in the moonlight. "I have woken you, to ask you to retrieve something of mine...My diary" she said, very casually.
To any observers, this request would seem rather silly, but Zeke had served his mistress long enough to know what the Diary had allowed her to do. "I shall not fail my lady."
"Good, it seems it has returned to live inside my first husband's crypt." she said, as if it was normal for books to have thoughts and feelings. "I spent centuries of effort capturing that book...I will not tolerate losing it, understood?"
Zeke nodded and bowed again "It shall be done..." he said calmly and, after being dismissed, took off into the night...
It wasn't finding the Crypt that proved difficult, infact given how much time had passed, it was rather easy. The harder part came into sneaking in without detection. It was never said but Zeke knew his mistress would want to keep her greatest weapon intact...surprise, and that would have surely disappeared, had he decided to kill the guards. So, waiting as patiently as he had when dead, he finally made it into Count Vladik's crypt.
Count Vladik's crypt was obviously magical in nature, since the architecture looked as clean and new as it was when first built. Zeke could sense the power of the Diary beneath his feet...he slowly walked toward a darkened staircase. The Diary was no ordinary book, it was the key to Countess Vladik's rise to power, the key to her ability to summon demonic forces. Zeke knew that the Diary had a will of its own, and would not come easily. Where are you? he said to himself, more to keep his wits about. He suddenly stopped dead, his instincts and knowledge giving him a "sixth sense". Before him was a long passage way, lit by the faint light of torches. About midway, flanking both sides, were two large statues, each of an armored knight holding a sword. He crept slowly down the passage, readying his axe. He had just past them when an unmistakable sound, like rock and dust moving, made him turn. He leaped up just in time to dodge the left statue's stone shattering slash. He promptly landed on its shoulder and with one swift slice, cut its head clean off. The statue was now frozen, but with no time to react, Zeke caught the second one's blow hard. Not dead, refusing to disobey his mistress he raised his axe and cut the stone sword in two, lifting the cracked half and chucking it clean through the statues head, and it too joined its comrade, eternally frozen. Brushing off the dust, he walked on...
Navigating magical traps, creeps and crawlies, and all manner of obstacles, Zeke pressed on, until finally he had reached the Tomb Chamber. Floating on a pedestal, was the Diary. as Zeke approached it, he heard a demonic laughing, echoing in the hollowed chamber. As the laughing died, a voice in that demonic tone spoke.
"You cannot have what you seek to gain!" The voice said amused.
"I will pry it from whereever you hide it! Voices with no bodies do not frighten me." He said, still walking on to the Diary. "I will take th-" his words were cut off, as a massive green flamed blade peirced his chest, demonic runes covering the blade.
"How about voices WITH bodies?" the now visible demon laughed. "The diary shall...not...wh...what the??" The demon said surprised.
Zeke was laughing softly, but his body was not moving. The laughter grew louder, more hysterical, and slightly demonic. When at last it reached its high note, Zeke Screamed in fury as his whole body was engulfed in unmistakably demonic blue flame, as the sword melted away, freeing him, he turned to the demon, still laughing.
"I told you...I...am...not...leaving..." He said as he leaped into the air and raised his axe. "WITHOUT THAT DIARY!!!!" He roared as he brought his axe crashing down, cleaving the demon in two, his screams and shreiks slowly dying as he dissappated into green flame and finally...silence. Zeke then turned to the Diary, his body now skelatal, and where skin was exposed in the armor, the blue flames remained. He walked up to the pedestal and took it. then in a whoosh of blue flame, he vanished...to return to his mistress.
 

_PV

_PV

Level 7
Joined
Aug 28, 2010
Messages
285
The immense aura of decay looms
Whom the Prophet of death refused a mere boon
You might be asking I'm speaking of whom?
allow me to divulge the tale of doom...

The crisp morning breeze sent a chill
Drums of war echoes over the steep hill
the battalion marching against their own will
The endless hordes of evil whispering "Kill"

The sky darkens; arrows shall rain
It shall inflict more than enough pain
cavalry fall and warriors met their bane
The unscaved do fall into hypnotic feign

Shields are shattered as body meets steel
The collision had dealt a hefty deal
Infliction wounds not able to heal
Forced on their knees they proceed to kneel

Flesh rends, bone incinerate
The thirst for war can not be sate
The battalion forced back through the gate
The endless horde simply will not wait

The walls crumble under the siege bombard
The king out played his last card
"Teach them the meaning of die hard"
Out emerged the Paladin, wielding his silver targe

The impure are compelled to flee
Brandishing Vengeance, stop them; can he?
Purveyor of light, he shall be
purge the evil? We shall see..

The battle rages on as time slows down
The King has fallen, he had lost his crown
The victor had not as of yet been made known
But all we know is the Threads of fate have been sewn

Corpses litter the streets; the stench of death about
The damage is dealt, there is no doubt
All that remains is an insufferable lout
Holding arms out towards the enforcer of redoubt

The Paladin cleanse; the Warlock curse
The Paladin exorcists; the pain disperse
The harbinger of doom gives the paragon his worse
Only to end up being under holy light; immersed

The battle ends; the sun doth emerge
The paragon of light cleansed the scourge!
Only at the cost of a great civil purge
suddenly the spirits dissipates as the prophet surge

"I have come for your soul" he asked with a grin
The paladin, exhausted, what will become of him?
The former paragon fades to black, part taking in sin
Who will now bless the souls of his kin?

1000 years past as a kingdom of thicket teems
The sun penetrates the bushes and places a thick beam
Beaming on that specific spot for a specific reason, it seems...
the resting place of out former paragon is deemed

Suddenly, the flowers decay and the beam dies
The animals merry is turned to cry
That same Prophet doth walk by
that same grin, same tone: "my, my..."

Woke from his slumber, the forsaken paragon rise
it's hand burst through the earth's crust, death it denies
An evil ploy the prophet devised
The fallen paladin; all but demised

"You have been risen to fulfil my ploy
Come, come! Don't be so Coy!"
The forsaken corpse lifts it's lifeless carcass from it's resting place
"Off to commit utter Calamity and chaos.. Shall we make haste?"

The Prophet and his unliving minion now roam the lands
In the name of what he once faced, now against what he for did stand...


well, Here ya go :)
 
Level 17
Joined
Jun 17, 2010
Messages
2,275
Oh its a poem. I like it :) Infact i like it alot, the only thing is you change from aaaa to aabb near the end and you start repeating to make the lines fit =/ And its a little difficult to understand it feels like you skipped something important.
 
The immense aura of decay looms
Whom the Prophet of death refused a mere boon
You might be asking I'm speaking of whom?
allow me to divulge the tale of doom...

The crisp morning breeze sent a chill
Drums of war echoes over the steep hill
the battalion marching against their own will
The endless hordes of evil whispering "Kill"

The sky darkens; arrows shall rain
It shall inflict more than enough pain
cavalry fall and warriors met their bane
The unscaved do fall into hypnotic feign

Shields are shattered as body meets steel
The collision had dealt a hefty deal
Infliction wounds not able to heal
Forced on their knees they proceed to kneel

Flesh rends, bone incinerate
The thirst for war can not be sate
The battalion forced back through the gate
The endless horde simply will not wait

The walls crumble under the siege bombard
The king out played his last card
"Teach them the meaning of die hard"
Out emerged the Paladin, wielding his silver targe

The impure are compelled to flee
Brandishing Vengeance, stop them; can he?
Purveyor of light, he shall be
purge the evil? We shall see..

The battle rages on as time slows down
The King has fallen, he had lost his crown
The victor had not as of yet been made known
But all we know is the Threads of fate have been sewn

Corpses litter the streets; the stench of death about
The damage is dealt, there is no doubt
All that remains is an insufferable lout
Holding arms out towards the enforcer of redoubt

The Paladin cleanse; the Warlock curse
The Paladin exorcists; the pain disperse
The harbinger of doom gives the paragon his worse
Only to end up being under holy light; immersed

The battle ends; the sun doth emerge
The paragon of light cleansed the scourge!
Only at the cost of a great civil purge
suddenly the spirits dissipates as the prophet surge

"I have come for your soul" he asked with a grin
The paladin, exhausted, what will become of him?
The former paragon fades to black, part taking in sin
Who will now bless the souls of his kin?

1000 years past as a kingdom of thicket teems
The sun penetrates the bushes and places a thick beam
Beaming on that specific spot for a specific reason, it seems...
the resting place of out former paragon is deemed

Suddenly, the flowers decay and the beam dies
The animals merry is turned to cry
That same Prophet doth walk by
that same grin, same tone: "my, my..."

Woke from his slumber, the forsaken paragon rise
it's hand burst through the earth's crust, death it denies
An evil ploy the prophet devised
The fallen paladin; all but demised

"You have been risen to fulfil my ploy
Come, come! Don't be so Coy!"
The forsaken corpse lifts it's lifeless carcass from it's resting place
"Off to commit utter Calamity and chaos.. Shall we make haste?"

The Prophet and his unliving minion now roam the lands
In the name of what he once faced, now against what he for did stand...


well, Here ya go :)
So, that wip (for example, since he did poem) is not accepted ?
 
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