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Get your PhD in Arcane arts. Tell us how YOU tried 
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Corsair
Corsair
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Joined: Fri Mar 14, 2008 10:00 pm
Posts: 8741
Location: Hag Graef
Last day! Cast your vote now!

Encourage cool storytellers! 8) Tell them you liked what they wrote. :D
On 21st in the morning, it will be too late.


Remember, everyone can vote, you don't need to post a story!
But only by posting a story will you get a chance to receive a special custom title - and an avatar, as well as D.net fame!

-=-=-

For the first time, Druchii.net is organizing a PhD exam! :D
June is the month of exams, in Naggaroth like everywhere else. But only D.net delivers a PhD in Arcane arts! :P

-=-=-

Many ambitious sorceress apprentices dream of graduating from one of the six prestigious Covenents of Sorceresses in Ghrond.
Few succeed in receiving the most coveted University of Ghrond PhD. What happens with those who failed is never told.
Will you dare and try your chance to belong to the highly selective cohort of Ghrond alumni?

Besides the formal teachings of the single official university, there is another way to get your diploma, which is to attach your steps to a lone Master of the Arcane Arts.
This path is pursued by male sorcerers, or by apprentices in far established colonies. The teaching is less academic and more focused on specialized aspects of Magic.
Graduating requires often the accomplishment of a seemingly impossible task. However, most Masters usually would rather keep longer a docile apprentice than accept a new competitor. This is why, more often than not, the task necessitates to get rid of the Master in the process – surviving confrontation against a well-known Mage is an accomplishment worth high appraisal, and would grant the coveted PhD! – However, the wise newly graduate better flee quick and far, for his former Master might not be as dead as he thought…

Not technically a diploma, but still a graduation in Arcane arts, the Warlocks wild bands promote their apprentices into full members on the same date, 21st June, through frightening rituals that few know and fewer dare to report. For this reason, the would-be warlock must be prepared to anything these mad Slaaneshi-affected Mages could imagine.


What about YOU?
Even if you, as a general, are not yourself a spell caster, your army must include a mage of some kind.
Or your favorite Role-Play character may be a Mage.

Tell us how you/she/he passed the exam, before being recruited for the army.

-=-=-

Here is the little contest for all interested members of Druchii.net.

The contest is simple:
Write below a couple paragraphs, like if you were roleplaying, telling how you passed the exam.
Any style should be acceptable. Bullet point list, story etc.
Just make it enjoyable for D.netters to vote for you. Usually a good short story is better than a long one.

End your post with two lines telling:
Best story: (insert name)
Worst story: (insert name)


For those who wish not to participate but would like to support one of the writers, you are allowed to post below and tell the best story only, but not the worst one.
Best story: (insert name)


The contest starts now.
Of course, you can edit your votes, until the 20th June, in order to take into account later submissions.

On 21 June, the thread will be locked and the votes will be counted, adding “best” and subtracting “worst” appreciations for each participant.

Rewards:
The participant totaling the highest count will earn the custom title "PhD in Dark Lore". 8) (or other Lore as appropriate).
I will offer a specific cartoon avatar, if the winner wishes. :D
The participant totaling the lowest count will earn the custom title "Miscasted in the Warp" :x - where she/he belongs.

-=-=-

Now it is up to YOU!
Can you show your true domination of the Winds of Magic? :twisted:

The longest day in the year will be agonizing for you.
Will you get your PhD? Will you have to wait one more year? Or will something go wrong and will you find yourself lost in the warp?

Post below! :D
10 days until the final exam!

_________________
Winds never stop blowing, Oceans are borderless. Get a ship and a crew, so the World will be ours! Today the World, tomorrow Nagg! {--|oBrotherhood of the Coast!o|--}


Tue Jun 10, 2014 6:08 am
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PhD in Dark Magic
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Joined: Thu Oct 10, 2013 11:54 am
Posts: 592
Location: The depths of the Black Library
Alright, let's give it a shot...

By way of background – in our 6th edition army book, the section on “The Dark Arts” mentions that there are twelve trials to be overcome in the training of a sorceress. No-one mentions the thirteenth step, and it has nothing to do with the Skaven.

-----------------------------------------
The Thirteenth Step
-----------------------------------------

Twelve trials, the mistresses of the Dark Convent told us. Twelve tests of a would-be Sorceress, twelve brutal undertakings devised to separate the truly capable from their inferiors through fire, blood and horrors from beyond. The aspirants learn that these tests are the making of a mage, that success is the gateway to power and influence beyond measure.

Fools.

I remember being that young, that naive. I remember the shuddering thrill of the first time that I bent the winds of Aqshy to my will, immolating the animated corpses of a dozen broken slaves who had messily disposed of the previous two students. When I first felt the chill ecstasy of pure sorcery channelling through my body, obeying my every command, I knew that no challenge was beyond me. I was not the most skilled or naturally adept acolyte, but I vowed that I would surpass all of my “sisters” in time.

It was only when Illys came to me ahead of her tenth test that I saw the truth. Illys was my trueborn sister – naturally gifted as a seer, trusting in her instincts, and far more headstrong. She had been apprenticed to the Dark Convent some years after me, but had made up ground quickly. I was not the only one to notice her skills, or to envy them. She had survived many attempts on her life, thanks to her potent auguries and devastating blasts of Dark Magic. Yet that night, scant weeks before she would face the Hydra’s Gauntlet, she came to me desperate for aid.

Her scrying and divinations had failed her, she told me. She had foreseen only her death in the arena, torn to shreds by serpentine beasts as her command of Dhar faltered. I had survived the tenth trial years earlier, bloodied and exhausted from beguiling the beasts of the arena to strike one another down, and unleashing torrents of purple-black flames to slay the survivors. Illys had never known failure. To falter in a task that was within my talents was unthinkable to her. My own final trial was at hand and she offered her powers of foresight in exchange for my assistance. I promised her that she would not fail the Hydra’s Gauntlet, and that both of us would see the end of the twelfth test, the Desolate Walk.

Illys vanished two nights before my final trial, the day before she would have run the Hydra’s Gauntlet. Dreadmistress Taenath, our instructor, blithely mentioned this to me shortly before my Desolate Walk began. Perhaps her visions had become too much to bear, Taenath had suggested smugly. My instructors had stripped me of every trinket and artefact before I began. I could not hide my fear when Taenath shattered the seerstone I had cunningly worked into the clasp of my robes. Nevertheless, I survived the Desolate Walk. Step by agonising step, I forged my path to success through tempests of dark blades, daemonic invocations, and at the last, by monstrous transformations forgotten to modern students of Dark Magic.

It had all been Illys’s own fault, truly. She knew, as I did, that she was the far more capable of the two of us. My talents had always required longer cultivation, more patient study. Perhaps this was why I was the better alchemist and artificer, the better planner. I had earned my every victory, labouring over tomes and magical apparatus. I would not suffer failure now, no matter what success demanded. I spent weeks crafting the charms to confound Illys’s foresight, to inflict visions of doom and make her desperate enough to seek my help. I had been meticulous in preparing my protective magics, knowing that I would have only one chance to subdue Illys. Few in the Convent even know of kinsblood elixir, let alone that its effects can be made permanent and impervious to detection.

Every student knew that a would-be sorceress could bring only her body, wits and skills into the Desolate Walk. The seerstone had been a ruse for Taenath’s sake. She expected every aspirant to cheat, at least a little. The stone’s glamours had already hidden the elixir’s effects. In a way, Illys truly did see the end of the Desolate Walk. Her natural skill and talent for sorcery, rendered down into the kinsblood with the rest of her, remain at my command even now. The final trial would have been beyond my powers alone.

There is but one true test of a sorceress: whether she has the will to survive by any means necessary. It is the only trial worth passing.

----------

Favourite story: "With Words and Deeds" (just pipping "Mastering the Lore of Life the Druchii Way"). Both are very interesting takes on the topic, and very well-crafted stories. There's just a bit more brazen Druchii-ness in Marchosias's work, though.
Least-favourite story: "Knowledge is Power". I really like the underhanded sneakiness of Myrtan (I used to play Skaven, after all), but without knowing whether his plan came off, it's hard to know if he's earned his PhD or is DOA.


Last edited by Haagrum on Fri Jun 20, 2014 5:58 pm, edited 11 times in total.



Tue Jun 10, 2014 11:00 am
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Malekith's Best Friend
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Location: The Depths of Despair
"Palarax of house Gratrax, rise!"

The Masters voice was sharp and struck Palarax in the face like a lash on the backside of a slave. Around him stood several warlocks, a score of light cavalrymen, and more than a few scores of auxiliary troops. He even spotted a few knights here and there, eager to watch in the trial. As he struggled against the weights of the chains wrapped around his lean upper body, he stumbled to a rise from the makeshift chair his 'friends' others had fashioned him out of rotten human corpses. But finally, he stood, tall, slender, his face sharp and gaunt, his hair a white tatter.

It was ten years ago, he thought. Ten years ago that he, seventh son of a seventh son of one of the least respected noble houses in all of Naggaroth, had seen his chance. The scroll of text had been hidden in the family library amongst the oldest tomes of arcane scriblings. No actual magic knowledge was written in those books, of course, the sorceresses of the Convent was adamant in making sure they alone where the most sought-after spellcasters in the land. They accomplished this largely by murdering every other spellcaster they could get their hands on. As he had unfolded the scroll, expecting to find more tales of "how to cure your Nauglir from Hxrasq larvae using magical concoctions", instead he found something far more valuable.

It had not been long until he had taken what food and provisions he could carry, taken a false house name, cut his hair, scarred his own face so as to be unrecognisable, and set of into the wild. To the north. The first months had been a bitter cold, and food had been scarce. The next months had been what he was now sure hell must feel like. Chilled to the bone at every turn, the only food available was to kill whichever vile, mutated beast would attack him. The only drink available to thaw the snow with what little body heat remained to him.

Finally, he had reached it. The fabled altar of change, far into the desolate chaos wastelands. By a mad stroke of luck, no daemons nor mutated northmen had crossed his path. This was the will of the Gods for sure. As he placed his hand on the rock, it seemed to suck every last ounce of body heat out of him before it shattered in a thousand thousand pieces. And the Voice boomed within his head. It spoke in a tongue he had never heard before, but somehow he knew. And he agreed. The Slaaneshi elves where given far too much freedom, far too many liberties. The Khainites as well. It was time to bring them back into the fold. Palarax had screamed in agony when the mark of Tzeentch warped his chest. The Raven came flying, and landed on his shoulder. "Hide it!" It was not a suggestion, but a command.


"Palarax of house Gratrax, you dare challenge me for leadership of this warbands warlock division, to challenge my authority?"

The Masters harsh voice made Palarax snap back to reality. The elf in chains bowed his head in compliance. Two elves clad in chainmail grabbed him one under each arm, and dragged him forward, as the Master descended from his seat. As he made his way down the steps, he came within just a few inches of Paralax. A smile crossed his face. How easy they make this, the fools. The Master drew his long, curved blade. "So be it! He who walks away from here, is the Master of Warlocks!" The Master nodded, and the elf in chains was released and a shortsword tossed to the ground next to him. No sooner did he bow down to retrieve it, than the Master struck with his blade, severing the elfs head from his body. The Master laughed in triumph, and Palarax dispelled the illusion. Everyone seemed to freeze, as the dead elf on the ground dissolved in a cloud of blue smoke. The Master turned on his heels just fast enough to catch Palarax's blade in the abdomen. His eyes widened with fear as the understanding dawned upon him, and Palarax spoke. "I am the Master of Warlocks. I am the Herald of Change. The reign of Slaanesh ends now." Then he twisted the blade, and the old master screamed and fell to the ground, blood gushing from his wound. And the surrounding warlocks bowed to their new master, before the Raven screeched a command and blue flames lashed out to consume them all. Palarax then headed towards the generals tent to introduce him to his new Sorcerer.



Best entry: Haagrum - loving the twist, its very druchii-like.
Worst entry: I'll refrain from casting a vote here =]

_________________
Name: Ladry (female)
Class: Mage (Pyromancer)
Equipment: Staff, longsword, dagger, 20 gold, insignia ring.
Skills: Power of Aqshy (2), defensive figthing
WS4, S2, T3, D4, I6.


Last edited by Thraundil on Thu Jun 19, 2014 10:21 am, edited 1 time in total.



Tue Jun 10, 2014 12:15 pm
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Posts: 603
Location: the Netherlands
Knowledge is Power

A Proverb Myrtan was only to familiar with. From a young age he had been training in the Arcane Arts. But being far to familiar with the so called ‘accidents’ of other young apprentices, especially males, Myrtan has always made sure of one thing.

Make sure your enemies underestimate you.

And who on earth would ever suspect poor bumpling Myrtan to thing of such a devious plan.
Myrtan had been under the tutelage of a powerful mage, Tyrnoc one of the more powerful male mages in Ghrond, and as such often under scrutiny from various sources, mostly the powerful female sorceresses. But there was also a male rival, who would dearly like to add Tyrnoc’s power to his own, a particular nasty sorcerer by the name of Arogoth the Black.

Myrtan waited patiently, and schemed for many years before he finally had the best chance of success. And what could possibly be better then to let 3 people fight it out, and Myrtan taking care of the weakened survivor himself.

And so he started leaking rumors and threats to his Master Tyrnoc, Arogoth the Black…and the favourite lover/apprentice of Arogoth.

The die was cast

And now it was time to watch and wait.

The chances that his master would be victorious against 2 opponents were small indeed, but if he did he would be so weakened that Myrtan could easily overwhelm him.

There was a far bigger chance that Tyrnoc would be slain but would take one of the two who stood against him with him, in that case Myrtan could simply walk in, and take care of the survivor and claim everything for himself.

There was however a very slim chance that Tyrnoc would be slain without even having a chance to do anything. And that the two survivors would hardly have broken a sweat doing so. Just in preparation for that Myrtan had packed every piece of valuable magical equipment he could take and was ready to leave in a moments notice should it be necessary.

Myrtan peered into his Cyrstal Ball, watching what his master was up to.
Sitting there watching he thought of one final out come for this, the three could ofcourse decide to join hands and slay the upstart out right.
Myrtan chuckled and looked closer into the Crystal Ball… what would it be. Would the dice roll in his favour.

…….Or not. ….

_________________
[CENTER]Image[/CENTER]


Tue Jun 10, 2014 12:38 pm
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Malekith's Personal Guard
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Location: Terre Haute, IN, USA
To be totally honest, I don't remember most of my time at Ghrond, though I do remember more there than I do my time in undergrad.

I did do a lot of studying, but most of it was half-drunken late night sessions reading "Menghil's Notes" to get the abridged versions of our textbooks (written on manhide, naturally). Especially those damned "History of Magic" classes. What a nightmare! The only reason I even ever went to those classes was to try to get a look up professor Morathi's skirt. One guy got caught doing that - she stopped class, took everybody outside, and spliced his soul to the flagpole right there on campus. Fortunately I was never caught.

I enjoyed the alchemy class, especially the lab times. The only downside there was that it was really early in the morning, and once when I was half asleep I caused my neighbor's lab equipment to explode and kill him instantly. At least I was able to use his notes to finish the experiment.

But seriously, when I wasn't in class, I was usually spending most of my time trying to get in the Witch Elf sorority house. Delta - Kappa - Theta. The De-Kappa-Thete's always had some of the best brews on campus. Their parties were KILLER!

(And yes, I know that in current edition, there aren't any male dark elf sorcerers. But that wasn't always true, I'm going "old school" and the jokes just didn't work as well if my character were female.)


All the entries are good, but I have to choose, so...

Best Entry: CultofKhaine - nice and short, but still to the point, and with a good plot twist in a very dark elven way. Plenty of other outstanding entries though.

Worst Entry: Cold73 - The story felt way too choppy; the bold single line sentences broke up the story without adding anything. More importantly, the story didn't really seem to go anywhere for my tastes. It was all speculation, there's no actual development and no idea how it ends.


Edit: All of the voting got that much harder - some of the later additions were positively sublime! I totally agree with those that say they prefer a "pick your 3 favorite" format to picking one "best" and one "worst" - it would encourage more creativity.

Final note: my intent with my story was not to offend. I was trying to capture a more irreverant take on college life, in the spirit of "Animal House" and the like, where the average college student was more interested in parties and the opposite gender, and less on the actual academics.

Thank you!

_________________
Chinese Relativity Axiom: No matter how glorious your triumphs, nor how miserable your failures, there will always be at least one billion people in China who don't give a damn.

Apocalypse Drow! Plog: http://druchii.net/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=75360


Last edited by direweasel on Fri Jun 20, 2014 12:01 pm, edited 4 times in total.



Tue Jun 10, 2014 1:38 pm
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Corsair
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Location: Hag Graef
A retired Daemon to the rescue.

The temperature had risen. The city was bustling with activity, preparing the solstice ceremonies.
Like every year, the dark torque offered by the Drachau was visible at the top of a three yard pole, in the middle of the market place. It had been placed at midnight, and would remain there at latest until dusk.
This was the opportunity for every daring mage apprentice to climb the pole and claim her or his worthiness in the Arcane arts. But many competitors were waiting in the crowd’s anonymity and would not let it happen.
The dense crowd prevented inaccurate magic missiles to be any effective. But spell-casters had other tools to take care of an individual. At noon, three burned corpses lying next to the pole proved that their former owner lacked magic resistance, luck or talent.

In preparation for that day, I had met with Lamehk. The Daemon had been surprised I summoned him, the Guardian of the Third Hell.
Long ago, he was routinely called by practitioners of the Dark Arts, but these days were now gone.
He had lost the attention of Dark Elves because he would never cause any wound, and his soft influence had to find a target at short distance.
But I found his name in ancient Tomes and he would provide what I needed.
When I explained him my plan, he asked for a reasonable price. I could not afford it yet, but I knew that paying more than what my own soul was worth guaranteed he would act as expected.

Just as I was about to release Lamehk into the dense crowd, several nervous acolytes felt it and cast Power of Darkness, getting ready to release bursts of Arcane energy.
Fools they were! They could have lived and tried another year.

When I started to climb the pole, the whole crowd stared at me, wondering what spell would end my attempt and most likely my life.
But such spell never happened.
I took the torque, and everyone could see me wearing it defiantly. From now on, I would be recognized as a Mage who had overcome the opposition of many hostile low level spell casters.
As planned, Lamehk had subtly taken control of the crowd’s thoughts, and prevented any spell to be cast from it. That was the only trick he knew, but the Daemon sure knew it well.

As I was leaving the market place, the crowd would now leave a wide circle around me, escaping the range of my breath, avoiding crossing my eyesight.
As arranged, Lamehk was now gone, with the souls of the apprentices who had been prevented to evacuate the boiling amounts of arcane power cumulated in their brains.
Where they once stood remained only a dark dust, with the characteristic smell of the Warp.

-=-=-

Explanation note:
6th edition DE AB, spell #5, Dominion, 10+, 12ps, prevents the target unit to perform one of the following actions: move, shoot or cast spells.
Fluff: Invoking Lamehk the guardian of the Third Hell, the sorceress takes control over her enemies’ thoughts.

I also took advantage of the 7th edition Power of Darkness, which would wound the spell caster if the cumulated dice could not been used.


-=-=-

Best story: It was a hard choice, the overall quality of stories is amazing, but at the end, direweasel and his De-Kappa-Thete made me laugh, everything was unexpected, and he introduced Morathi most appropriately.
Worst story: Cold73 "Knowledge is Power". A decent story, but no surprise, no plot, not that much original, no spectacular spell, that's hard compared to the other competitors. At least, Cold is perfectly orthodox about the use of fluff.

EDIT: New stories came and replaced old stories.
Now I apreciate Marchosias' "With Words and Deeds" even more than "The Thirteenth Step", "The De-Kappa-Thete", "The Bloodwrack Coven" and "Learn from home program" which I liked a lot, too.
I concur with Haagrum about the worst being Liels Vienu - but forgive me, Liels, it is your first post, I really wish to encourage you to come and post more often, even if you did not do well this time. If you happen to be rated worst overall, that's an oportunity for you to jump directly from "slave" status to "warped" status, very unique for a first poster! If only for this reason, that's an exam worth failing. ;)

_________________
Winds never stop blowing, Oceans are borderless. Get a ship and a crew, so the World will be ours! Today the World, tomorrow Nagg! {--|oBrotherhood of the Coast!o|--}


Wed Jun 11, 2014 7:27 am
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Generalissimo
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mastering the Lore of Life the Druchii Way
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have sat here in the rafters for three days, alone among the bats and spiders. I have waited, with a malicious patience, for my master - the disgraceful fool - to pass through along the great hallway below. Soon, I will finally 'pass' my Doctor of Phantasmagoria, by killing him and taking his sceptre for my own, or die trying.

As I hang here, my presence concealed by a tapestry of magical webs and darkness, I will take a moment to tell you, dear reader, about my earlier days. Like many others, I completed my undergraduate and graduate studies at the University of Ghrond. Under the tuition of many learned and experienced sorcerers and sorceresses, I learned about the eldritch world, from the origins of creation and the rightful place of the Witch King as ruler of Ulthuan to the diversity of the lores of enchantment and the hegemony of darkness over its fellows.

During my studies, I discovered that I had an uncanny knack for the practice of magic, and so had petitioned the illustrious Covenant of Sisters to undertake my PhD. When the scroll of acceptance had arrived, I was filled with elation. Until, that is, I read the final two blood etched lines of the manuscript. "Your supervising Master will be Botanicus the Life sage. You will report to him in the Herbarium of Ghrond, at the third sunrise after the Feast of Eternal Winter."

Life?! How could they have dared to submit to me such an insult? I had spent years learning about the inferiority of the petty party tricks of the hedge wizards of Life. My efforts in this paltry and pathetic lore had been half-hearted at best, and I had joined the other students in pouring scorn upon the discipline, along with its sister fields of Light and the Heavens. I had prepared myself for rejection, but never for that...that...travesty.

Even now, my mind seethes at the memory of the injustice. I must steady myself, dear reader, for it would not do to fall from this lofty vantage point onto the tiles below. I have come so far, it would not do to fail at the final instance.

Over the years, I studied resentfully under the tutelage of Botanicus. He was a kind master, and I loathed him for it. His slow and attentive ministrations of my work filled me with contempt and hatred. As I learned, month after month, about the disgusting words and insulting motions needed to staunch wounds and to make plants grow faster, my anger festered. (I knew that allowing my hatred of the male elf to simmer contravened the strict directives of the Royal Court, which had recently issued a decree forbidding the enjoyment of eternal hatred for all but the loftiest of druchii warriors, but I no longer cared). It still baffled me why Morathi, in all her so called wisdom, had so recently decided to allow - encourage even - the study of this and other asur-inspired schools of magic.

I began seeking other paths of knowledge, dallying in the library long after the other post-graduate students had departed to drink their fill from the blood troughs of the covenant bar. During those times I learned about the darker dimensions of the enchantments of life, beyond the feeble conjurings of the vegan mages. Where they learned to heal, I learned to poison; where they learned to grow, I learned to rot; where they learned to cherish life, I learned to extinguish it; where they learned to protect, I learned to destroy; and where they learned to commune with the creatures who dwelled amongst the top soil, I learned to command the foul insects that fed upon their flesh.

Of course, I am no fool. I feigned my subservience to Botanicus during my time with him, and became quickly adept at using the living lore to grow sunflowers and discussing philosophy with moles. Botanicus glowed with pride at my achievements and spoke often to me of how he saw me as being the son he never had. I feigned appreciation of his flattery, even as I plotted his demise.

I had come to realise, you see, that there was no way that I could allow myself to graduate as a fully fledged Master of Life, at least not in the conventional sense. Nor, I believed, could I allow the accursed Botanicus continue to pollute the minds of his students and his fellows with his heretical fantasies and sacrilegious teachings. And so it was that I decided to better the world, and assume a position as a Master of Life in my own way, by ending his pitiful existence.

Seven days ago, I had received word of my final test. Botanicus approached me in the late morning, as I sat studying in the Herbarium, and explained that he had concocted the challenge. I was to build, he told me, with tears of pride running down his fat and ugly cheeks, a shrubbery. When he had told me the news, it had taken every ounce of the iron discipline, which I had steeled myself with over my years of study, to stop myself from spitting in his face. A shrubbery?! While my acquaintances and rivals at the university had been assigned tasks such as incinerating groups of captured slaves with flame storms, transforming into dangerous monsters, and summoning forth unspeakable horrors from inside darker dimensions, I was to grow a shrubbery? My spirit burned with a fury, the likes of which I had never felt before. A shrubbery? A Shrubbery?! A SHRUBBERY?!!

To avoid him seeing the incandescent rage burning in my eyes, I knelt quickly and kissed the fat elf's hand. "Most revered father," I intoned, every word tasting like putrid bile in my mouth, "I am honoured that you think me worthy of this final task, and will undertake it with an alacrity that is matched only by my fealty to you.' He nodded his appreciation of my acceptance, mumbled some trite words of irrelevance, and handed me a scroll with more instructions. He explained that he was leaving the university for a five day trip, to gather new herbs, but would return on the fifth day to inspect my creation. He bade me farewell and good luck.

When I departed to eat my lunch that day, I avoided the mess hall, which would be crowded full with my fellow students, no doubt exchanging stories about the intricate and nefarious tasks which they had been set. The notion of sharing my final humiliation with them filled me with shame and despair. Instead, I returned to the library, and began to plot the scheme which has placed me up here, upon the rafters, awaiting the arrival of Botanicus below.

Once the plan had been set, I laboured for four full days to grow the shrubbery. It was, as Botanicus had predicted, no easy task. I had to endure not only the painstaking toil of gradually coaxing each carefully located seed to grow up from the earth into a fully blooming plant, but also with the regular arrival of questing knights who sought to purchase the shrubbery from me. The latter gave me an ideal opportunity to practice my rusty skills with the lore of metal, but nevertheless proved to be a constant irritation and distraction.

At the end of the fourth evening, my work was finally completed. I knew that Botanicus was scheduled to return the following day, so that night I used my knowledge of the lore of life to grow several serpentine vines up the side of the great hall. I scaled up these into the roof, and then used the other teachings - those which I had learned alone in the library - to kill the vines and eliminate the evidence. Then I sat and waited. That was three long days ago. Can that thrice accursed Botanicus do nothing right? May he rot in the darkness of death into which I will consign him.

I must take a breather from this scroll now, dear reader, for I finally hear the soft, tell-tale footpads of 'my master' approaching. By the time you read this note, I will either be dead, caught in the act and slung up upon the crucifixes of the disloyal. Or the chubby body of the hedge wizard will have been penetrated by a single poisonous thorn, thrown at him from the anonymous darkness of the rafters above. The venom will work over the course of several minutes, causing him to suffer in that short period the full extent of the burning shame and humiliation that he has inflicted upon me over these blight-filled years. I will savour every moment of agonizing pain and horrifying torment that he endures. And then, at the very end, when his eyes are inflamed with blood and his ears are swollen with mucus, I will descend from my hiding place and reveal myself to him. The last sight and sound that he will hear will be my triumphant face and leering laughter. Betrayal by 'the son he never had' will cause him more excruciating hurt than any physical or magical pain, and I will savour that long, final moment.

A final update, dear reader - I AM ALIVE! You may call me Master.


------------------

OOC: Calisson, I really enjoy these short term RP opportunities, as it gives folk like me - who lack both the time and the tenacity to get involved with longer RPs - the chance to get involved and play around with the fluff a little. So thanks for running this :)

OOC2: This story embodies, in part, my ongoing dislike of the fact that Dark Elves can use Lore of Life (and Light too, for that matter).

Best story: TBD
Worst story: TBD

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Wed Jun 11, 2014 3:26 pm
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Walking with Fire

There was The Three Challenges my sisters and i undertook to be a sorceress. each one designed to make you better. The Tests were always done at midnight when the sorceress’s power was at its peak. There were three of us trying to pass tonight, Juada, Ienist, and I. Juada was the perfect pupil, always was a quick learner and was said to be one of the best students ever. Ienist was struggling the whole way and only by pure luck had got here.

The first test when we got there was to survive in an arena for 10 minutes without any weapons or armour or trinkets with bloodthirsty underfeed cold ones. The aim of this challenge was to control other beings as you control magic. I was unlucky tonight was foggy so I couldn't see them. I entered alone on one side of the arena. BONG! The bell had gone the cold ones were released. I could hear their footsteps closing in on me, ready to rip me to shreds. The first one came into view very pale in the light. Suddenly it lunged i quickly ducked out the way only to get a piercing pain in my leg as one had snuck up behind me. I tried to hobble to the edge of the arena hoping to escape them, but I was surrounded. I reached out with my mind feeling their presences (everything has an aura around them but it can not be seen only felt, the stronger of mind you are the stronger your aura). I commanded the closest one to move away but it only stopped for a second confused, then it came walking towards me again. I reached out again and tried to force them to back away a couple backed away. Good, I was getting somewhere. The older more experienced ones weren't so stupid I tried and tried again but they wouldn't budge. Slowly they would surround me, I ran. Running through a small gap in their circle i ran forwards not knowing where i was going, not looking at all.

Thump! "Ouch what was that for?",
"Juada is that you?",
"What do you think, of course it is. Thanks to you I lost my concentration",
"I am to weak can you help me?",
"Oh all right!", Slowly since the adrenaline of running was wearing off I could feel the pain in my leg that was bitten. I would survive. I could now see that Juada had had them under control, but now with they were regaining their senses. Trying together to push them back and control them wasn't working. One of them lunged at us. BONG! A beast-master suddenly leaped from above and wrestled it to the ground, we were then escorted out.

Next was the second of the three dreaded challenges, the walking on with fire. What happened were the other sorceresses heated up coals to unbearably hot temperatures whilst whipping you. You had to walk on the coals bare footed for 10 seconds without faltering once. Few had passed.

I arrived in time to hear them calling out my name, for the ordeals to begin. I took off my sandals and all my clothes except my undergarments. I stepped on the coals and flinched at the heat. I smelt the burning of my flesh. The heat was unbearable. I felt the heat rushing to my head. I was blacking out. I see Juada fall beside me. She says something, but what was it? Suddenly I feel refreshed, but the pain slowly comes back hurting more than ever. I heard the bell go for the ten seconds mark. I hobbled off the coals and promptly fainted. I had survived just. I had now mastered controlling others, partially, and mastered my thoughts. Finally it was time to do the third and last challenge. To master my skills.

You had to last 10 days and nights without help in the wild and only a small pelt for water. For the first day I felt hungry and was cold. I was all alone in the mountains I thought all people had failed but me. The next day I was running low on water and desperately looked for animals or berries to eat, again I sat alone that night, too weak to start a fire I slept cold again. The third day I was wandering only to find a bush with berries, they were all dried up and some rotten with bloated creatures crawling out. i quickly plucked them off and ate them. They tasted lovely, very sweet and slightly sour and only a little bit moisturising but moisturising nonetheless. I attempted to start a fire but it failed. The next morning I continued wandering looking for a good place, eventually there was a spot I saw a herd of creatures drinking out of a lake in the mountains. I needed something to kill them with so i took a small sharp stone out of the lake and crept up on them. I jumped upon one stabbing its neck with the stone. It gave a huge cry and the others ran off. It's skin was so hard lie scales i could not penetrate it. Eventually i hacked through the scales and into it's neck, blood spurted everywhere. I hopped off it to let it die and prepare a fire to cook it on. when i returned it was dead. For the next five days i ate its carcass. it tasted chewy and flavourless but at the time it was an excellent delicacy. On the tenth and final day i started to look for some other source of food, i was getting hungry. the animal i had killed previously was skinny. while i was searching i heard a cry, i could not tell if it was human or not but i ran to it. I saw a little dark pegasus foal still young, i pulled out my stone ready to kill it. But then there was a flapping of wings. i ducked down being cautious. and as i expected the mother pegasus came into view. killing it would be hard but i was famished. if i didn't eat and kill it i surely would die of hunger, but if i attack it i will just die in a hopeless attack. took the second option. i lunged at the foal and pierced its neck instantly. what happened next was annoying, it squealed it's dying squeal. The mother hearing this turned around and charged. I was going to be trampled. there was no way i could get out the way. i was to die. As if out of nowhere Ienist jumped out and got trampled. reacting to her sacrifice i hopped on the pegasus' back and attempted to cut it whilst it struggled to get me off. At last i cut the neck of the beast. it slumped to the ground throwing me off. That night i cooked pegasus and realised what sacrifice Ienist had made for me! At the stroke of midnight some people came out of nowhere i did not realise it till they surrounded me and were closing in. I prepared for the worst. Instead i saw coming into view. The head sorceress, She stared to speak,
"You have done well now rest…" Slowly the world spun upside-down and went black…


Last edited by Liels Vienu on Wed Jun 18, 2014 7:56 pm, edited 3 times in total.



Sat Jun 14, 2014 7:31 pm
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The Trial

Cast: The Bloodwrack Coven
[*]Melchett, Master of Warlocks
[*]Blackadder, 2nd Warlock
[*]House, 3rd Warlock
[*]Baldrick, Acolyte


Two heads peer over a rocky peak.

Thunder and lightning crash all around.

In the defile below lies a cave by a spring, surrounded by the ravaged remains of the carcasses of what once were titans. An enormous leonine head emerges from the darkness of the cavern, the immensity of its hulking frame momentarily lit up by a flash of light; great wings spread wide and a scorpion tail coiled behind. The beast lets out a raging roar, echoing to the pinnacles all around; vibrating the very earth, and the bones of the two observers in the distance.


Blackadder: *ducks down behind the rocks, pulling Baldrick with him* So, Melchie's not playing games today!

Baldrick: That's a Manticore!

Blackadder: I know very well that's a Manticore, Baldrick. I have been living in Naggaroth for over 500 years.

Baldrick: How are you going to kill it?

Blackadder: I'm going to cast a spell on it, Baldrick, and you are going to help me.

Baldrick: But sir, that's against the rules. The Master of Warlocks has made the rules of your Mastery exam very clear. It's you versus the quarry with no help from the rest of us

Blackadder: *interrupting* It's against the rules for me to cast Fate of Bjuna on you if you don't assist, but that's not going to stop me.

Baldrick: Understood!

Blackadder: So, what spells can you help me with in this situation?

Baldrick: Well, I know Soulblight.

Blackadder: So, we're going to make that very angry Manticore slightly depressed? So that it rips me limb from limb with slightly less abandon than it usually would? Prolonging the agony of my end for just a teeny tiny bit longer?

Baldrick: That's not a good plan?

Blackadder: Your intellect would shame a goblin, Baldrick.

Baldrick: I know Doombolt!

Blackadder: You are suggesting that I go down there, by myself, hoping that somehow a tidal wave of the winds of magic arrives at just the right time before it rends me to offal so that I can cast with irresistible force a bolt of power that has a 20% chance of killing it and an 80% chance of making it more pissed off and violent than it already is?

Baldrick: Yes.

Blackadder: *sigh* I'm stuck with the only Elf under Morrslieb with less cranial capacity than a snotling for back-up on my day of days. You don't know any other spells?

Baldrick: Nope.

Blackadder: You only know two spells!?

Baldrick: I thought that was pretty good for a Warlock acolyte!

Blackadder and Baldrick creep back from the peak and descend the hill to where the rest of their Coven is waiting. Master of Warlocks Melchett is resting regally on a throne he has materialised, looking mightily pleased with himself. Warlock House is enthusiastically drawing a magic circle around their campsite while chanting happily under his breath.

Master Melchett: So Blackadder, the scale of your challenge is now clear?

Blackadder: You want to turn me into catnip, yes.

Master Melchett: Come now, come now. Blackadder, you are always talking yourself up. Saying how ready you are to command your own Coven. Now, finally, you can put your magic where your mouth is!

House: Master Melchett was just saying how he expects that Manticore to toy with you for a few hours before biting your head off.

*Melchett casts House an icy stare*

Master Melchett: Well, we want future Masters of Warlocks to be competent don't we? Can't have our leadership failing on the field of battle can we? Getting turned to ice by Phoenixes or shot down by Waywatchers. This sort of test will sort the wheat from the chaff!

A crash of thunder reverberates around the hills and a flash of lightning illuminates the scene as a character in gleaming armour swoops down onto the camp on the back of an ebony winged steed.

Master Melchett, House, Blackadder, Baldrick: It's the Dread Lord Flashheart -- the Warlock Finder General!

Enter [*]Lord Flashheart, who effortlessly dismounts his midnight sky stallion.

Lord Flashheart: 'Sup boys. I'm on a mission from Malekith and Master Melchett is on his eeeessss-hit list.

Master Melchett:
WELL I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT THAT. DOOMBOLT BOYS!

Master Melchett: *chants* Umnum Shiva Umnum Shiva Umnum Shiva Umnum Shiva

House: *chants* Umnum Shiva Umnum Shiva Umnum Shiva Umnum Shiva Umnum Shiva

Blackadder:*chants* Umnum Shiva Umnum Shiva Umnum Shiva Umnum Shiva

Baldrick: *chants* Ummmm Ummmm Ummmm Ummmm Ummmm Ummmm Ummmm

A flux of magical power builds and an ethereal nimbus plays about Master Melchett, who shoots a blazing purple crescendo of energy at Lord Flashheart.

The aethyr coruscation pings straight off the laughing Flashheart and back at Master Melchett, engulfing him in an overload of primal power that rends the very fabric of reality. Master Melchett is pulled by cackling daemons to his immaterial doom!


Master Melchett: *screaming like a teenage girl* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

The three remaining Coven members are stunned to silence.

House: What the hell just happened there?

Lord Flashheart: This Ring of Hotek just happened. *brandishes his bling* Goes with being one of Mally's Best Friends. Perks of the job; that and a VIP night pass to the Convent of Ghrond. If you know what I'm saying? Wooof!

House: ohmykhaine, ohmykhaine, ohmykhaine, ohmykhaine I can't believe I'm actually getting to meet THE Lord Flashheart -- Bigger than Nagash, Better than Aenarion!!!

Blackadder: He's the Warlock Finder General, he lives to destroy Elves like us.

Baldrick: I have to say this is the greatest day of my life.

Lord Flashheart: *kicks Baldrick brutally in the groin, whips out his sword and pricks both House and Blackadder in the thumb and big toe in a quicksilver flash of fencing movements*

House: Ouch! Ouch!

Blackadder: Ow! Ow!

Lord Flashheart's spell-eating sword glows brightly with imbibed power.

Lord Flashheart: I call that defanging the snake. Can't do much without your spells now can you boys? I know what it's like not remembering things -- the Brides of Khaine always drug and kidnap me when they are looking to breed the next generation of Witches and Assassins. Thankfully the effect wears off before we get down to business. It's a tough job but somebodys gotta do it!

House: Why didn't you steal Baldrick's spells?

Lord Flashheart: *kicks the attempting-to-stand-back-up Baldrick back down* This one? He doesn't even know any! Didn't you hear the mumbling when you were casting?

Blackadder: Baldrick, you mean all that time we've been riding to war as a unit you've just been making noises that sound like the spells we've been trying to cast?

House: No wonder we're always getting dispelled!

Baldrick: *attempting to stand* Well, acolyte means trainee don't it?

Lord Flashheart: Enough of this chit-chat, the Sorceresses of Ghrond can't break their vows of chastity by themselves now can they? As your Master has vanished into the Void, I need one of you to provide evidence so I can claim my bounty.

House: *interrupting* Take me! Take me! Take me!

Lord Flashheart: Is that a Lothern Skycutter in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?

House: Oh, I'm your biggest fan!

Blackadder: House, you do know you are going to be presented before the Witch King, then tortured for days before being fed ritually to Slaanesh?

House: But I'll be able to get his autograph and ride across the sky with him on his glorious aerial steed!

Blackadder: *Groan*

Lord Flashheart: Very well, mount up. And you two -- don't get eaten by any Hydrae; I want to claim your bounties in due course as well. More Bounties, More Fame, More Riches, More Women! *raising his sword into the air* WOOOF!!!

House: *ecstatic* Wooof!!!

Lord Flashheart boots the now-stood-up-again Baldrick in the crotch once more for good measure before leaping onto his Dark Pegasus and bidding it take to the skies. House gleefully holds on to Flashheart's waist with a rapt look on his face. A perfectly-timed blaze of lightning and peal of thunder frame their departure.

Blackadder: ...

Baldrick: ...

Blackadder: Well, it seems I have been unexpectedly promoted to Master of Warlocks.

Baldrick: *still fetal position on the ground* What does that make me?

Blackadder: Well, as your Master of Warlocks I command you to complete the mission on the other side of that hill in order to become a full fledged member of this Coven.

Baldrick: But haven't we just established that I don't actually know any spells?

Blackadder: We have Baldrick. We have.

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Sat Jun 14, 2014 9:59 pm
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More entries, yay! :D
And good ones! :P

Don't forget to cast a vote for best - and worse story.
Remember, you can edit till 20th June.

Also, everyone can vote, not only the writers. You too, dear reader, you can vote!
But if you don't write, only vote for the best, not for the worst.

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Sun Jun 15, 2014 3:58 am
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Ah, why not, I felt super rusty writing this though...

-------------------------------
White Tower Incident
-------------------------------

Pale figure peered out of a window of an incredibly tall tower out into the sunny day. It was always a sunny day in Saphery as the Asur mages maintained perfect harvest season all year round. It was said that even a tavern maid in Saphery knew a few magical cantrips to make her work easier. The man turned away from the view with a smirk of contempt. He was growing weary of the charade that he put up with for the past century but the time spent among the mages of the Tower of Hoeth was paying off greatly.

His long black hair fell on his face as he chuckled to himself sitting by a small mirror. His pale, sharp features could betray him as a denizen of Naggaroth but to everyone in the tower knew him as Anerith Darkstar, son of an old noble house of Naggarythe. It was a lie only to an extend, as Dalamar Velkyn carefully traced his lineage after completing his Black Guard training discovering that during the time of the Sundering, two brothers of house Darkstar took opposite sides in the conflict for the phoenix throne and he just happened to be a direct descendant of the one who followed the one true king of the elves.

Letting out a long sigh, he stared at the mirror for a few minutes, relaxing his features and pulling his hair back into a top knot. Creases of calculated anger and malice faded from his face which took on a far more pleasant and polite appearance, one of an apprentice that knew his place and deferred to his superiors. All this trouble was necessary due to the simple fact that Malekith outlawed magic among male Druchii but Dalamar discovered his magical talent still among the Black Guard. While it wasn't too hard to keep it hidden from the tower, it was unbearable to let it linger untrained. Because of that he had undertaken the most dangerous ruse ever. He had infiltrated the White Tower of Hoeth claiming to be a hopeful apprentice from Naggarythe and somehow they believed him. Such was the naivety of the Asur that they thought their precious tower impenetrable.

Tonight was the night of his greatest test, he would either succeed and return to the lands granted to him by the Witch King, or he would fail and failure meant discovery and death. Tonight, all students and loremasters would gather in the great hall to witness the graduation ceremony of the newest Asur mages, specialists in manipulation of their respective winds as well as those who devoted themselves to study magic in its entirety and mastered Quaysh. It was the perfect time for Dalamar to sneak into the famous library of Hoeth and steal a particular tome, one that existed since before the Sundering written by none other than Furion.

Magical bell tolled within the tower, equally quiet in every location, signalling the beginning of the ceremony, and the beginning of Dalamar's grand scheme. He walked out of his chamber and went straigth for the library. As he approached the great doors that would lead him to his target, a figure came from the opposite direction. The Druchii tensed for a moment before he recognized his accomplice, an Asur woman he seduced and convinced to join in his scheme, promising her power beyond what would the loremasters allowed. He gave her a knowing smile and opened the doors slightly, letting her sneak inside and following closely. The infiltrator closed the library doors behind him and turned to face the hardest part of the night... finding what he was looking for in an extradimensional library that may as well have contained millions of tomes.

Thankfully this was where his accomplice went into action. Since her studies focused on the wind of Heavens she was supposed to prepare a ritual that would allow her to divine the location of the darkest tome in the library. Surely enough, she was leading the way quickly with a purpose in her step. Despite a few dead ends they eventually found their way around and she reached for a tome squeezed tightly among other books, not standing out in any way, perfectly hidden in plain sight. The very moment she handed him the tome a voice sounded behind them, inquiring about their business.

Dalamar's instincts took over, he was far too close to success and too much was invested into seeing it through, he spun around and before he even saw the person who shouted at them, a blast of magical fire enveloped them, consuming them nearly instantly. Realizing how dire the situation was he knew that he had no time to waste. Now with the tome in his hands he had the ability to shape and weave any wind of magic and bend them to his will. He flipped the book open, and as if it read his mind, the spell visible on the page it opened to was exactly the one he needed.

Dalamar Velkyn smiled to himself as he heard a commotion, someone must've noticed the pile of ash in the aisle. He spoke the incantation presented to him by the tome and a shimmering oval of energy appeared before him. As he stepped into the gate, pulling his shocked accomplice behind with him, he could swear he saw Teclis himself come to investigate the intruder in the library. The world turned black, before slowly fading back into existence as Dalamar and the Asur woman emerged into a shallow cave all the way back in Naggaroth.

-------------------------------

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7th edition army book:
Games Played: 213
Games Won: 114 (54%)
Games Drawn: 33 (15%)
Games Lost: 66 (31%)

8th Edition army book W/D/L:
Druchii: 36/4/16


Sun Jun 15, 2014 6:50 am
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Not sure if I'll be able to get a story done over the next few days, but either way I'd love to vote! Having said that, I'll wait until the end to cast it one way or another, just to give everyone a chance to produce something special. Some great reads in here, I didn't realise we had so many story tellers in our midst!

Best Story: TBA

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Sun Jun 15, 2014 3:14 pm
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I'd prefer it if we voted for our favourite top three stories, using 2nd/3rd place votes to settle any ties.

For a young writer, it takes courage to put their creativity out into the public eye, and to be labelled "worst story" isn't good for confidence.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Vote:

1. Haagrum

Setting the bar high with the very first entry! Perhaps that is why we have so few entrants :P

The perfect short short Dark Elf story. Crisp writing, entrancing plot, and an evil sting in the tail.
If you are not already published I suggest that you try your hand at some short stories. Your entry contains all the seeds of great writing.

2. Red...

Beautiful prose. I enjoyed the humour of a Dark Life mage and the nods to Monty Python !lol!

3. All those writing in their second (or third) language

If I had tried to write in a foreign language, my entry would be limited to: Moi, Je t'aime Fromage :oops:

Worst Story:

Amboadine -- no offence mate :P

Quote:
but as I actually quite like the title Miscasted into the warp, I will happily carry the can ;)


I don't actually think your story was the worst. But you said you wanted the title :mrgreen:

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Last edited by T.D. on Fri Jun 20, 2014 7:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.



Sun Jun 15, 2014 5:56 pm
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T.D. wrote:
I'd prefer it if we voted for our favourite top three stories, using 2nd/3rd place votes to settle any ties.

For a young writer, it takes courage to put their creativity out into the public eye, and to be labelled "worst story" isn't good for confidence.


It is a fair point. I will be posting mine tomorrow, but as I actually quite like the title Miscasted into the warp, I will happily carry the can ;).

Possibly would be easier as a vote function once all are posted however.

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My Kings of War Plog - Twilight Kin / Nightstalkers


Sun Jun 15, 2014 6:21 pm
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T.D. wrote:
I'd prefer it if we voted for our favourite top three stories, using 2nd/3rd place votes to settle any ties.
Rules should not be changed in the course of the contest, but good point to consider for the next one.

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Mon Jun 16, 2014 6:37 am
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Miscast into the Warp
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Well firstly, thank you Calisson for putting this together, since it looks as if my roleplay group has died an unfortunate death. Nice opportunity to take a break and write something quickly, rather short I'm afraid.

----------------------------------------

The tedium of the twenty long years was an equisite form of slow torture. The sheer number of scrolls received through the Druchii slave mail service beyond imagination; she had already punished two slaves for their audacity in delivering more than she had wished for. The scrying ball tutorials were perhaps the worst form of learning, the lecturer an indignate Hag who believed her students to be playthings for her own amusement, able to send deeply painful shocks through the medium to those she believed inattentive.

Yet through it all Yvanya had persisted with the University of Ghrond’s, ‘Learn from home program’. Perhaps in retrospect, studying full time would have been a better option, but with the Minions to control and the raids to plan, part time study seemed to be the only way to go and still perform her role in society; the first born daughter of a noble house.

The day of the final exam was a memory that would tarnish her mind forever, the excruciating pain shooting through her as she channelled more energy than she had ever previously dared in order to impress, no not impress, intimidate, her examiners, was more than any elf should be able to bear. Yet still she had pressed on with more complex energies, until the point where there was no longer any more slaves to destroy.

As the last of the energy dissapated from the arena, Yvanya had stood there, erect and proud daring a comment, other than, “You have passed”, staring at those whom judged her.

-----------------------------------------


Best story - Red... Felt the story engaged the reader nicely.
Worst story - TBD although mine looks quite short and undeveloped compared to many here.

@TD. No offence taken of course :)

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Last edited by Amboadine on Sat Jun 21, 2014 4:22 pm, edited 2 times in total.



Mon Jun 16, 2014 8:59 am
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Only 3 votes cast. :?
Come on, girls & guys! If you wish to read more nice stories, tell those who write that you liked them!

Please vote now.
If you wrote a story, edit your post with best / worst vote.
If you did not write a story, tell here below which is your favorite story.
Only today and tomorrow remain for the vote.

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Thu Jun 19, 2014 7:51 am
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Hope it is not too late to join the party. :)

---------------------------------

WITH WORDS AND DEEDS

The examiners were surely tired now at the end of the exam period but they seemed to observe me with full attention as I was slowly approaching them. Their eyes showed mistrust, disdain, maybe even spite while I was doing my best to show confidence and openness.

The echo of my steps still hanging in the air, my tutor – a respected mage with deep knowledge of dark magic who was supposed to help me – challenged me as the protocol demanded: “Acolyte Cahaya Nurasyl, you must now defend your abilities in the arcane powers, first by words, then with deeds. You are allowed to speak.”

There might have been a time when they had believed in a successful future for me but this must have been many, many years ago. It did not matter. I was always able to retain hope despite the words of anyone.

“Most revered masters,” I began with a bow, “as my studies have brought me far away from what a usual aspirant to the arcane powers learns I was interested in how other acolytes will perform. I have to say I was very pleased.”

I thought this introduction had surprised them. There were only a few students who did not pass this year, far less than usual. It was a strong group to compare with. But I had picked their curiosity at least.

“As everyone else, I was impressed by some of the most talented dark or fire mages who certainly hold the power to destroy whole regiments. However, gifted students are a common occurrence. What I find more interesting is that even some acolytes no one had believed in performed magnificently. Take Gwanir, for example. Starting to learn only two days prior the exam was very late but through some miracle it sufficed. So I decided to investigate.”

I was not sure if such a speech, seemingly far from the subject, would be allowed at all. They despised me after all, considered me weak or misguided. The student's right to speak out was a long tradition, though, so they did not interrupt.

“I spoke with Lania, the one with the abusive uncle who wanted to send her to work immediately, without waiting for her to finish the exams at last. Despite she had been unable to break from his chains for years, some days back she confronted him with such a determination that he backed off from her burning gaze and gave her full freedom, allowing her to prepare herself accordingly.

Later I met Dayl, the poor soul who was tainted by darkness long ago and was suffering nightmares ever since studying the wind of Shyish. The bad dreams would certainly disturb concentration and make passing the exams almost impossible but a few days ago, they suddenly vanished.”

Most of the masters were so disgusted by my ability to show compassion that they were missing the real message. Some of them were listening carefully, though. It was a clear sign that my faith in them was not misguided.

“There were others,” I continued. “Inin, the one unable to stand up in the morning without drugs, was now able to overcome the burdens of flesh and work harder than anyone. Ansy got almost killed in the duel they forced her into but walked away unharmed in the end. Zaidar the cowardly stepped in front of you without the tiniest mark of fear. Baklan the reckless almost attacked a noble-born swordsman and suffered serious injuries as a result but somehow did not do it, contrary to the expectations of everyone, and so the fight was avoided.”

Finally, they were beginning to understand. Some angry shouts came my way but otherwise the examiners were respecting the tradition and listening to the end. And some of them even seemed to approve.

“Revered masters, you have probably arranged a series of tests for me. I am not going to complete them. We all know I could not harm a dragon or kill a big regiment without support. It does not matter. The true strength of mine – of any light mage – is in helping others. During the exam period, I have turned seven failures into successful mages. If you count the bodies piled by all seven of them you will find out I have already extinguished more foes than the most talented dark acolyte.”

I ended my speech with one more respectful bow. Now I could have only waited if they were willing to open their minds as I believed.

“You have witnessed my powers,” I concluded as the protocol demanded. “I am prepared to accept your decision.”

-----------------------------------------

Comments: Spells in chronological order: Birona's timewarp, Shem's burning gaze, Banishment, Speed of light, Pha's protection, Light of battle, Net of Amyntok (yes, the poor reckless elf was stopped in his charge with the Net :D ). I have been a bit creative in how some of them work to fit the story so sorry for that.

Special apologies to Red - I in turn think dark elves using light magic are hilarious. :)

-----------------------------------------

Best story: Haagrum - the plot is OK but what I really like is how smoothly the text flows. I praise the lightness with which he puts words next to each other most of all.
Worst story: Direweasel - The humour is too crude for my taste. Moreover, I dislike that the entry is not a story but actually just a collection of one-liners. If there is nothing in the text but gags they have to be really good and this is hard to achieve, especially as everyone has a different sense of humour.

Edit: I noticed almost everyone had a title so I added one, too.

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Thu Jun 19, 2014 9:16 am
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Sorry for the delay, I have never done something like this before, so quite out of my comfort zone :)

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The vicious beast lay perched on the rise ready to pounce, ears back, legs hunched, tail to the ground, not a muscle moved. Its silhouette could barely be seen against the night sky as it sat their waiting, watching, ready for the time to strike. The surprise would be mine tonight.

I felt the magic caress through my body down through my hand to the tips of my fingers - the sensation was exhilarating. Not yet I told myself - control. I took another deep breath and uttered the final words to Khaine that would finish the spell, I was ready.

The dark figure stepped into the clearing towards me, devoid of emotion, the cold night air billowing from her nostrils like the smoke from a black dragon ready to engulf its prey. "So you have come to complete your test" she says. "You have studied well, do you think you are worthy of the reward?" She snickered.

You knew she had no intention of letting you pass this final test, for if you did it would most certainly lead to your masters death and see you in her place as teacher and no longer student.
"Let us begin" and with that she sent forth a shuddering force of black energy towards me. It enveloped me or should I say my apparition. For a brief second she had a smile on her face but it was too late before she realised what she had done.

I leapt from the rise claws extended, the magic of my mutation coursing through my body. My claws found their mark, the blood sprayed from her throat as she fell to her knees. My spell dissipating I now stood in front of her in my true form, no longer the student. "You under estimate me, now I am the teacher".

I told you the surprise would be mine tonight.

-----------------------------------------

Best Story: Red...
Worst Story: -

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Fri Jun 20, 2014 1:23 am
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Last day before it closes!
6 D.netters have voted.
7 D.netters have posted but not voted.
16441 D.netters have not posted.

Show your interest: tell us which story you liked most!

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Fri Jun 20, 2014 7:02 am
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I'm gonna vote for Haagrum ! Many were great though. Good job everyone. I feel I can't speak English well enough to adventure myself writing a story, sorry :/


Fri Jun 20, 2014 4:31 pm
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Location: Raiding out of Athel Loren
I'm voting for T.D. For best :)
Difficult decision though, I liked all of the stories :)


Sat Jun 21, 2014 8:03 am
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I tried my hand at a story, but it started running way longer than I intended. I'm not sure it qualifies any more for the purposes of this contest, but here's a link to it if anyone is interested; I didn't want to clutter this space up with a giant wall of text:

http://www.druchii.net/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=75269

Best story- This is tough, really tough. I have to say Haagrum. Clear, concise, and very enjoyable. It really feels like a Druchii story.

Worst story- Mine! ^^. Might be okay with some serious editing. I did have a blast writing it, so that's something!

Thanks to everyone that contributed, and especially to Calisson for hosting this.


Sat Jun 21, 2014 2:36 pm
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The thread is now locked I will tally up all the votes for and against and announce winners and losers.

I was hoping to do a little final story but man, everyone had such a unique experience in their finals that I can't find any connecting thread :P

The votes (those that were cast) were tallied by an impartial slave, whipped mercilessly by one of the beastmasters... ignore the blood stains on the voting slips. The final results are!

For:
Haagrum - 4
Marchosias - 2
Red... - 2
Cult of Khaine - 1
T.D. - 1

Against:
Myrtan - 1
Cold73 - 1
Liels Vienu - 1
Direweasel - 1
Watchmaster - 1

Haagrum is a clear winner! Congratulations! Please contact your nearest friendly Moderator for your price of the "PhD in Arcane Arts" title (or a similar variation if you have an idea you'd like)

The worst story list is... very even which means that none of the stories stood out as really really bad! Which is a really good thing! Next time do better and take that prize! But for now contact your Moderator for application of the "Lost in the Chaos Wastes" title (or we'll find you!)

Thanks everyone for participating and stay tuned for more activities coming to Druchii.net next month!

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Games Played: 213
Games Won: 114 (54%)
Games Drawn: 33 (15%)
Games Lost: 66 (31%)

8th Edition army book W/D/L:
Druchii: 36/4/16


Sat Jun 21, 2014 7:21 pm
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Additionally, we have an announcement from Marchosias!

-----------------------------

Aftermath

Only a few acolytes were remaining. The exams were almost at their end; the future of nearly everyone has been settled; now, only a few unusual cases were remaining to decide.

The room was cold and dark; the door was closed with a heavy chain protected against magic; there was no furniture, no tapestries on the walls, nothing that would make the place at least slightly comfortable. No, they were not yet in prison; but the power their superiors wielded was made impossible to overlook.

In a loud cacophony, the chain fell to the ground and the door was shut open. A well-dressed elf entered, proud and self-confident, and his entrance was enough to grab everyone's attention.

“Surprised to see me?” he asked with a cold smile. “I am the Maker Of Chains. I can unmake them at my whim. I am here to tell you your results.”

The gathered elves remained silent but the suspense was still visible on them, despite their best efforts. The decision of the Council could have been anything – they could have got the title of Master and a comfortable place in the Tower but they could be sent somewhere to the Chaos Wastes or worse as well.

“The trials of each of you were different,” he explained, “as they were tailored specifically to you. You have all survived but not all of you have impressed us enough.”

Then, he spoke to one of the sorceresses: “You who walked the Desolate Walk,” he begun, “you have displayed the skill, willpower and cunning of a true sorceress. You will be granted your title, together with a cabinet in one of the Towers of Ghrond. I applaud you and wish you best luck with your future students or in the armies of powerful dreadlords.”

Turning to the others, his face grew more stern: “You others, though, did not convince your masters you are truly worthy of joining them. You will be given the opportunity to study more; if you acquire enough raw power, self-control and cunning, you might be able to complete the trials one day in the future but do not expect to succeed any time soon.”

He paused for a moment and then looked grimly at a male, nervously standing on the edge of the group.

“Except you, Myrtan. Your plan did not work. There were voices demanding your execution but in the end it was decided you will be sent to fight marauders from the Chaos Wastes. You might be able to regain your status after a few decades of faithful service but do not hold your hope high.”

He paused to look over the group and then added with a slightly lower voice:

“There is one more possibility for all of you, though. In a few days, the ship The Tempestuous is sailing to the east, with the aim to raid the Empire's shore. They sail under the flag of House Sarkin, a lesser but respectable family; and they say they accept mercenaries, even ones of questionable reputation. If you decide to seek your destiny among them you will become a leave from us. I suspect it won't help your career as mages but who knows. The decision is yours.”

He turned to the only successful candidate, seemingly forgetting the others completely, and asked her: “Follow me please, my lady. It would be an honour for me to accompany you to your masters who will officially greet you among their ranks.”

Then he walked out of the room again and left the other elves wondering what should they do.


-----------------------------------

Fellow D.netters, the adventures of your characters do not need to end there! There is the so-called "Group 42" in our role-playing section that tells the story of a raiding group that decided to plunder the shore of the Empire but is slowly but certainly being caught in something bigger than they would have thought. ;) And there is space for more players - space YOU could fill!

You can use your mage described here or create a completely new character (not sure how well would the characters here fit but we can talk about it). You would need to post approximatelly once a week most of the time; if engaged in conversation, it could be several smaller ones during the week instead. Take a look at the first entry in G42, there is some more detail you can read.

If interested, PM me please. :) (and ideally tell me a rough idea for a character but do not describe every detail yet - I might have some ideas about how to blend your character in the story easier with some minor tweaks)

And if this is not enough to you, I have a solution: instead of simply joining G42, you could start your very own group! We are always hiring new moderators. Contact Drainial if you have an idea for a story.

_________________
7th edition army book:
Games Played: 213
Games Won: 114 (54%)
Games Drawn: 33 (15%)
Games Lost: 66 (31%)

8th Edition army book W/D/L:
Druchii: 36/4/16


Sun Jun 22, 2014 7:55 am
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