2015 Area Writing Contest
This year, as in years past, I hosted a Story Writing Contest. The twist was that the story should be written _from the point of view_ of a zone or room. (Not from a mortal observer's view) This year, I received several entries, which was awesome. - Cordir (talk) 14:25, 15 November 2016 (MST)
The prizes were as follows:
First Prize: Your choice of a Health or True Seeing amulet of level 32, a restring, and 250,000 gold.
Second Prize: Your choice of one Big Prize Bag Pick or Two Small Prize Bag Picks, a restring, and 150,000 gold.
Third Prize: A voucher for +3 AC added to any object (within Natilena's posted FYI guidelines), a restring, and 75,000 gold.
First Received: A reward will be given to the first entry received.
The winners are as follows:
1st place: Tikruul, for the Tale of Jester's Keep
2nd Place: Nicholai, for the Tale of the Sanguinna Oak
3rd Place: Brimstone, for the Tale of Market Square.
First Entry Received: Hiddukel
I received three entries that, while they were ABOUT specific zones or rooms, were not from the POINT OF VIEW of the zones, and that affected their score.
I appreciate the time and effort put into all of the entries. Thank you to those who participated, and congrats to the winners!
1ST PLACE: JESTER'S KEEP - TIKRUUL
Lord what fools these mortals be, to think to penetrate my fortress. Their fear for me is well earned, isn’t it? I have been the destroyer of many a geared player within my halls, my keep. The barely grace my gardens, for fear of my billow weeds alone. Can you find the key? Can you work your way into my halls, past my garden of horrors as they attempt to rend your flesh? Dare you try to work past the bloodthorns to my gates?
Yet then…when you’ve made it to my gates…what will you do? Many have entered. Only the brave, with strong allies have survived to tell the tales. When my priestess roams the realm she sews death where she walks, the seeds of sorrow at her fingertips. The realm knows fear of her well, but she is not the only trial within my keep, the only danger.
Seeking you riches? Glory? Danger? These are to be found here. I contain untouched treasures of past times, and trials that have slain many a man. In ages past, I had a lone room you could land in via recall or teleport. This room alone caused many to fall, unknowingly stepping foot outside into a quick rebirth, from which few were brave enough to attempt recovery. My monsters have picked up and walked corpses to the far reaches of my inner depths, further harrowing the brave attempts at recovery.
Could you withstand my dark magics, and ancient curses? I have corrupted the Cyrenian Gardens. I have poisoned the once great Mystic Woods and the foolish One Hundred who reside there, elves who think themselves immortals. I shall claim their souls, and yours next, as my curse grows upon the land, corrupting Sanguinna’s Halls with my reach. Twisting creatures of the night in the woods into monstrous beings which hunger for mortal flesh…especially the young, the small…the weaker prey.
Be old. Be wise. Be brave. Be leveled. Else your blood as well shall be claimed by my magics, and mayhaps twisted by my curses. My garden shall feast on your flesh. Your shiny baubles, and items you treasure, shall become mere dust upon my floors, swept by time and the wind, as only the elements will brave my reaches often. Come to me for your death, come to me for your rebirth, come to me to repeat the cycle. I welcome you and your foolish, brave heart. I hunger for your blood to feed my magics, so that I may envelop the realm. Your fear strengthens me, and the whispers of the daring seeking to test their hands at my fortress increase my fame.
You shall know pain within my keep. You shall know fear. You shall know loss.
Unless you can prove stronger. Cleverer. More resourceful…you shall fail. You shall fall. You shall die.
…and I shall live on. Feeding on your fears, consuming your sorrows, and spreading dread about the realm until I consume you all. I am the Jester’s Keep.
2ND PLACE: THE OAK OF SANGUINNA - NICHOLAI
The Oak - Above the desolation and despair I stand, and have stood for longer than time can tell. A beacon of life in a sea of death, I am eternal. While everything around me seems to die, I hold strong, drawing life from my deep roots which cling to the buried hopes and dreams of this once great land. At my base lie the remains of the dark mother in whose light darkness found true happiness. Her presence still lingers offering peace to the lost souls who are fortunate enough to survive this far, and at her feet flowers impossibly bloom. Soft winds filter through my leaves, a contrast to the thick fog which sits heavy upon the land, clouding the minds of the wretched citizens wandering below. Their lives as miserable as the shattered remains of the town in which they seem to be forever bound. In the center of the town stands the statue of the father, untouched by time, promising to protect and shelter, yet around him the fog and bats continue to feast upon the minds and flesh of men, women, and children left behind. To the North the peaks of the four towers of the keep reach towards the black sky, as if to grab hold of the moon and keep her near, her reflected light is all that is shed upon this place that the sun has forsaken. The walls of stone remain strong; weathered by time, once home to a great and powerful family, now a haven to the dark and twisted creatures that remain. A distant bell tolls, occasionally drowning out the shrieks and moans, as to announce yet another life lost to the wilds. Those who venture out my branches can catch the flickering glimpse of a distant fire to the West, and the faint sound of song and laughter from those who still cling to hope. Deep within my hollow heart bears an ancient carving, a mark of love between the unlikeliest of souls as a remembrance to those who seek refuge there that even in the darkest of places, there is a light within. For there is no darkness without the contrast of light and light without darkness has no meaning. And all those who bear witness to it are safe from harm. Not many visit these days, save the few who cling to the old ways, and the curious who are drawn to the darkness. Some come to bleed, some to ponder, and others just feel at home within my branches, an unlikely oasis of life in a land surrounded by death. And though I have seen from my great stature the rise and fall of this great land, alone I stand strong knowing that all that ever lives will die, yet life will arise again from death to continue the cycle, and those who seek to cheat death will pay a heavy price. Here I shall remain, I do not speak but I take care to listen, offering shelter, strength, and solitude to those who seek me.
3RD PLACE: MARKET SQUARE -- BRIMSTONE
I am eternal, to this realm. I have seen it's birth and growth. I have witnessed the realm's first players,
as they came to me for sustenance or to regain bearings in the early days. I have seen demon hoardes slake their thirst for both water and blood, cries to Nash and gods both new and old. Prayers for safety and success, escape and turned tables.
I have seen death stalk my city, which has stood here, a shining beacon of human ingenuity and trade. I have heard Slue sing, hug, laugh, and slay...and be slain. My well has held untold corpses as a secret tactic in days past, when safe rooms did not exist, and the young and inexperienced fell in droves to the older tricksters who preyed on them.
The seasons change, time passes, names fade to history, and the blood in my soil turns to dust comprised of the souls of those long forgotten, new and ancient, the young and the old. Their joys and fears comprise me soul, their hopes and dreams, their wishes. My blessing has gone to hero and villain, newbie and elder alike.
I watch people grow. I watch levels gained and names earn praise. I have heard the shouts of Nashites as they have claimed souls and become villains of the realm, as have many, many others. They drink from the waters of my well, and run to the rooms throughout my great city, to summon and kill. Their tawdry attempts to entrap and slay. Those times when their traps go awry, and they are slain in turn.
I have watched heroes be made. Setting their own traps, trying to rescue and protect the youth of the realm as they grow. Watched the great battles with forces of good and evil alike as they have run through me to use the vortex as it hovers amidst my air…or popped out into me from the vortex to run to battle, or safety.
I have been the reason the gods turned Midgaard into a no-fly zone. It is the strange airs in my square which could trap the unlucky in perpetual a perpetual fall…never to return, or be seen again…unless you were wise enough to fly high above me, to see them stuck in their state of misery.
Still others have come to me for their ends specifically. Throwing themselves upon Slue’s axe, or bringing dragons to him in hopes he shall aid their fight. Confusing foes in hopes they would gain his ire, and taste the steel of his axe. Trying to leave the realm entirely, and repeatedly beheading themselves with Slue until the realm itself sees fit to remove them.
Come to me. Drink. Run through and about me. I shall watch you grow and fade, as much a central part of the realm as the city I reside in myself. I shall see you for your arch-mob quests, your runs for water, your random runs in Midgaard east gate and the poor nuveau-riche sod who works his post there. You all know me, and I have known you longer. We shall all meet at some point, for I am the center of the realm.
FIRST ENTRY RECEIVED -- HIDDUKEL
He gets tossed out the vortex landing softly on his feet in the grand marble entryway, he looks over his shoulder at the Greg portal and grumbles 'never a easy walk he turns looking at the grand staircase going up when he hears a growl from behind him, glancing over his shoulder he sees a nightmare staring at him. Hiddukel grins ' ok fella come on' he starts sprinting up the steps the nightmare right behind him once he reaches the top Hiddukel spins and drives his spear into the beast chest it let's out a loud growl the its head hangs gasping its last breath. One quick pull the spear is released from it chest adjusting his robe seeming annoyed by the blood on it. He feels the eyes of the gargaroyles staring down at him. Glancing up he snarls back and utters 'uwsfazze uizug' he slowly turns invisible 'much better' he starts walking down a gleaming marble hallways passing by two doors he can feel the power of good and evil fighting over him as he walks by. 'Not today booga or colman' he keeps walking south stepping carefully around the guards so he will not be noticed. He smirks as he hears them talking about heading to loth lorien inn for drinks after there shift is done. He slips a few gold coins in one of the guards pockets 'thinking to himself have a few on me' he reaches the end of the hallways he can feel good and evil on both sides of him again. Looking to the left of him then the right 'she is this way' he heads west down the hallway. Walking by caradoc's temple and tower of sorcery then by the syndicate of assassins. Hmm ozmo temple straight ahead and pyros to the south not what I'm looking for. North is where I must go. Ok the slave pit to my right little farther up the insane asylum pudding loving freak. Peaceful courtyard, fortress of blood, torchbearer, iniguity amost there little farther the mansion to the west monastery of blood straight ahead ok to the east the unseen alter funny ahh Here we are University of evil. Peeking in seeing the mage casting spells of protection he turns his back to grab a spell component. 'This is my chance' quickly he is standing behind the mage his spear driven deep into his back the mage starts to scream Hiddukel utters the words 'gurunsoqz' the room gets early silent blocking out the mages scream pulling the spear out of the mages back he see him getting ready to cast a arch-spell. He kicks the mage across the room then leaps at the mage slashing his chest open the mages eye widen as he tries to back away blood starts pouring from the open wound as he tumbles and falla on his back. Hiddukel walks over and stands over him smiling he flips his spear around the mage puts his hands up to beg for his life blood coming out his mouth. Hiddukel turns away as to leave then quickly turns back driving his spear through the mages throat the mages body go stiff for a moment then limp. Hiddukel reaches down taking the manacles from the mages wrist and utters the words 'safhar' within a second he is standing looking at mish. He hands her some gold. She looks at him 'your debt has been settled, Hiddukel' he turns and tosses the manacles to the shaman in the corner there you go. He starts to head up the steps but stops 'almost forgot' he tosses a large pouch of gold to the shaman 'the money he stole also' then he is gone.
HONORABLE MENTION: THE LOWER HALL, BY MADMAN
The Lower Hall
[Exits: north up]
This hallway must have been built by giants! It is huge! Then
again, there are more than a few giants that belong to The Guild, so it may just be so. A stairway leads up to another hallway above.
Mish Leigh Salvandor will use her contacts to help you... for a price.
<20hp(20) 100ma(100) 125mv(125)(1000) 200gp sp: [commn] > l s
<20hp(20) 100ma(100) 125mv(125)(1000) 200gp sp: [commn] > The wall has a small glass window. Looking through it, you see a shark swimming in a huge tank.
Slowly you creep down the stairs, never having been down to this part of the Guild before. Many times you've passed these stairs as you tackle your studies, learning the ways of magic. Always its been dark and silent down below, but today, there is a glow coming up the stairs and some kind of...music? Yes, humming...and irresistible pull of curiousity has pulled you, nagged at you to investigate like an unscratchable itch.
As you reach the bottom step, you see Mish, eyes closed, humming softly and tapping her fingers absently in time to the music. Behind her, a glass window is covered over with condensation.
Dum
Dum
DUM DUM DUM DUM
What a strange song you think. Looking back at Mish you see she has opened her eyes and is smirking. She says "You know the story behind this place, right? No? Oh my, a newbie. Well, let me tell you a tale..."
Sitting down on the step, you motion to Mish to continue.
"Behind the glass there is a special place, a room blasted out of solid bedrock by an ancient evil. The day it was discovered a flash had filled every cranny of the Guild and a shockwave rolled though for several minutes. People wondered what was going on, but no one dared ask. Rumor had it one had once inquired of the evil one something in the past, and well, the next thing that poor soul knew they were face to face with Scar so everyone thought it safer to just watch and wonder."
"So for many days...months...that room sat empty, just behind that window there. People would stop down here just to look in and wonder...but day in and day out it was just a chamber in the stone, scorched and scarred rock walls with a faint red glow from the disipating heat of the blast that had made it."
"And then one day there was a scream...and Khore appeared in the Guild dripping wet, bleeding profusely. 'MADMAN! DAMMIT MADMAN!' he screamed. There was a flash and Khore was gone, and a split second later he was back, sputtering with terror in his eyes. 'OK OK OK' he yelled. The witnesses there said Khore then stalked out muttering, and a snicker was heard from all the corners of the Guild at once."
"It was shortly after that someone wandering by here noticed a change, that the glass had condensation on it. Looking in they noticed the blasted chamber had been turned into a tank, filled with water, and had one HUGE shark swimming around in it. News of this filled Midgaard and soon there was a crowd down here trying to get a glimpse of the shark in the tank... A disembodied voice resounded through the Guild saying 'You like my latest pet? His name is Bluto!' A flash blinded everyone and when they could see again, the evil one was there, grinning evilly with the still soaked Khore at his side. 'Now Khore, it will be your job to check on Bluto! His nutritional requirements are quite simple! Bat blood! It has all a growing megalodon needs to grow big and strong...he's just a pup now but just wait til he's full grown! It will be... KHORE!' Khore had slumped to the floor, gone ghastly pale, and shivering. 'Ah, you will get used to it...suck it up!'"
"With that, Madman vanished in another flash. The crowd mummered words of comfort to Khore as they left, thankful they weren't the ones with this...honor...to bear."
"That was many many years ago...Khore and Madman are seldom around these days, but Bluto, well, Bluto still lives there in the tank. Look if you dare...but be wary! Legend has it that there is still some residual magic that detects those with bat blood in their veins. You don't have any of that do you? Wouldn't want you to become a snack for Bluto now would we?!"
Mish snickers, closes her eyes again, and starts humming and drumming her fingers again...
Dum
Dum
DUM DUM DUM DUM
HONORABLE MENTION: THE WINTERMEET OAK, BY LUDO
The solitary oak tree groaned, stretching it’s ancient limbs in the early morning light. The braids of hair swung gently with the motion. A hunting hawk began to make lazy circles as it watched for a hare to show itself. As the dew began to dry, a burly centaur sauntered up to the ancient tree. His coarse hands tenderly caressed one of the braids for a moment. His demeanor suddenly hardened and his hand moved to the forked spear on his back when his ears picked up long whistling tune. Shortly a very tall man came into view. He wore armor, pitted and scarred from many fights, but he also gave an energy. It flowed around him as though magic came to him as simply as the tune he whistled. He only paused his tune to take puffs of his cigarette, paying no heed to the centaur or the tree. The man quickly followed the path around a bend to the south and disappeared from view. Stealing one last glance at the braid, the centaur trotted back down to the trail and headed north along the trail.
The valley remained empty for a short while, the hawk having flown off to better grounds. The serenity of the valley was suddenly broken with the clang of metal on metal, fiery explosions, and painful screams. As soon as the clamor started, it was silenced. A moment later the sounds sprung up again and were quickly silenced. The sun rose high in the sky as the tall man came back around the bend. His armor was splattered with blood but he whistled the same happy tune and juggled two antelope hide water skins. Just as quick as he appeared, he was gone.
Until late afternoon, the only other sounds in the valley were rustling of leaves and creaking of limbs in the ancient tree. As the sun moved closer to the western horizon, a slender half elf came wandering in from the north. His head was so deeply buried in sheets of parchment he nearly wandered off the path on several occasions. His unruly red head only popped above the parchment to grab one of the instruments from his myriad of equipment to take a measurement then jot down the readings. The oblivious half elf meandered over the the stone slab under the great tree and spread his parchment over the surface of the slab. The parchments revealed an assortment of detailed maps. As he poured over his maps, pulsing runes began to glow through the parchment. The half elf hastily pushed away his maps and grabbed a piece of blank parchment and he began to trace the runes. Once he had the outlines, he placed his maps back on the slab and made several exited notations. With the notations finished, the half elf relaxed against the tree for a short while before gathering up his parchments and continuing to the south. It was nearly dark when several shouts erupted from the south side of the valley. Several coarse and slurred, one was young scared. They went on for some time before the high pitched shout was suddenly cut short. A few hours later another young half elf arrived from the north. His face looked identical to the previous one but his clothes looked mismatched and too big, like hand me downs. He paused for a moment checking the two rusty weapons he carried before trudging off to the south. Shortly, more shouts erupted from the south side of the valley, the same pitches as before. The high voice being silenced much quicker this time. Not an hour later, yet another half elf arrived, he had the same face of the previous two half elves but his clothes even more mismatched and his weapons even more dull. His shoulders drooped low has he trudged to the south. There was another short eruption of shouts from the south. Instead of silencing they eventually grew louder until the half elf came back around the southern bend as fast as his legs would carry him. He was pursued by two belligerently drunk centaurs their threats echoing through the valley. The half elf dove behind the stone slab for cover and turned to face his pursuers. The centaurs closed in but as they got close the great tree emitted a violent shudder that knocked the half elf to his knees and caused the centaurs to retreat out of range. They pawed angrily at the ground but remained outside the reach of the great branches. After catching his breath, the half elf made several charges at the centaurs but each time he was easily beaten back, only being saved by the centaurs’ fear of the tree’s rumblings. For a while it seemed that the young redhead had given up then suddenly he made a dash, not to charge the centaurs but to get past them and back to the south. The fleet half elf made it round the south bend before the inebriated centaurs quit tripping over each other but they were soon in hot pursuit. Their threats and hollers faded off into the distance and the valley was quiet once more.
Close to dawn there was again the sounds of someone approaching from the north. A party of adventurers came into view. They were young, but their armor showed the tests of battle and the well sharpened edges of their weapons gleamed in the fading moonlight. They marched quietly with purpose around the south bend. Shortly there was clamoring of steel and a few rough shouts but they were cut short. The party soon came back around the southern bend, several of the members gently carried the limp bodies of three young red haired half elves. As they disappeared over the northern side of the valley, the sun began to rise and a hawk made lazy circles in the sky.