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Death Night is coming - How will YOU survive? 
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Corsair
Corsair
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Joined: Fri Mar 14, 2008 10:00 pm
Posts: 8714
Location: Hag Graef
EDIT: DEATH NIGHT has been as cool as you would imagine.
There have been quite a few D.netters who have dared to participate.
Here below are their entries.
Enjoy! :D


EDIT: DEATH NIGHT EVE is coming NOW!
There remain a few hours for you to post your story here below if you haven't done it already.
For those who have posted - receive my early compliments for the overall outstanding quality -, you can still edit your text (trying to improve it, even changing it all) and, more importantly, you can vote and amend your vote.


Dalamar had an excellent suggestion, to which I added a little twist, and it was met with lots of positive feedback from the Moderator's team.
Here is it:



Druchii.net is going to celebrate its first Death Night! :twisted:

The Death Night will happen on 21st December, 23:59 UTC-6 (Har Ganeth time zone).
It's a cold time in Naggaroth, and Witch Elves need a workout to stay warm ;)



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, on how you would survive the Death Night?
Any style should be acceptable. Bullet point list, story etc.

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

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

When Death Night comes, the votes will be counted (if 3 or more participants).
The participant totalling the highest number of best votes will earn the custom title "Death Night Survivor". 8)
The participant totalling the highest number of worst votes will die :killed: - as it deserves.
Yes, it means that his account will be actually deleted :x and he will have to start a new one
(anyway, with such a performance, he would better resume from scratch, wouldn't him? :roll: ).

In case of even votes, the title will go to the first poster, the fate will go to the last poster. Better hurry up! You can edit later anyway.


Do you have a real Druchii spirit? :twisted:
Will you dare participate?
... and face ...
... Death?


Mon Dec 16, 2013 7:31 pm
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Executioner
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Joined: Sat Sep 07, 2013 8:06 am
Posts: 187
Location: sweden
Not sure on how to write this, but ill give it a go:

I'd proabably dress out as a witch myself, fake titties and leather thong and all.

then I'd go out joining and revell in the bloodshed with the brides of khaine; hoping the blood frenzy blinding them for my flawless costume.

and maybe make sure some of my opponents/adversaries get Slain in the thick of the night...

Best story: (haagrum)
Worst story: (wolden spoons)

_________________
"Dovie'andi se tovya sagain."

[CENTER]Image[/CENTER]


Last edited by Melle on Fri Dec 20, 2013 3:18 pm, edited 2 times in total.



Mon Dec 16, 2013 9:11 pm
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Trainee Warrior
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Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2012 7:43 am
Posts: 25
Location: Belgium
okay euhm,

I will take a bath in the cauldron of blood and be blessed by Khaine herself.

every crazy lady who wants to kill me will die a terrible dead! :killed: I'll cut their bodies to pieces and 'll eat their kidneys.

This way they will see that Khaine blessed me through this dreadfull night and they might search for a juicier easier target :)

The only problem is how I'll sneak in it..



best story so far: (Haagrum)
worst story so far: (Calisson - C'mon, singing?!?) (sorry!)

kinds,
Marky


Last edited by Marky on Wed Dec 18, 2013 4:51 pm, edited 2 times in total.



Mon Dec 16, 2013 10:11 pm
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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
Blood and Lust - The Fleetmaster's Tale
(Edited 21/12)

I am Varek Bloodspite, master of the Black Ark Spire of Blissful Damnation. By the blessings of Mathlann, Anath Raema and Atharti, I have known plunder beyond counting, slain and enslaved lesser mortals in their thousands, and have indulged my desires with fervour and depravity equal to any in Naggaroth. Tonight, the Maibd, or Witch Elves as the lesser races know them, would claim that even the blessings of the other Cytharai are no sanctuary. They reckon without the cunning of one who has survived centuries of storms, battle and treachery.

It is not by chance that I find myself in Har Ganeth on Death Night. My last voyage was not as profitable as I had hoped. The coasts of the human lands, the horse-lords and merchant princes of the lands they call Bretonnia and Tilea, were ripe for the picking - or so I had believed. Our first forays yielded mostly the young, the old and the sickly - few slaves of any real worth, fit only for the knife, the Hags' cauldrons or a bloodbath in the arena. They would be fit only for sport anywhere other than Har Ganeth, and would attract a pittance to match their condition. Under the torturer's care, the reasons became apparent: a great invasion from the northern wastes had resulted in the able-bodied being called to fight. We sacked what we could, and left a few alive to tell the tales of their woes.

My Corsairs became restless, discontented with their easy prey and poor takings. I slew three out of hand for even the suspicion of mutiny - the last I left sufficiently alive to be keelhauled as a demonstration to the others and to the pitiful slaves half-filling our hold. The others quietened down, but true Druchii are murderous by nature, and all the more so when forced into even temporary obedience. When my sorceress, Anthyrra, divined that three forces of mercenaries were marching to intercept us, I sent the would-be traitors to my command to attack a village directly in the oncoming armies' path and abandoned them to the humans' vengeance. In doing so, I salvaged my profits, disposed of the least useful of my warriors, and devised the means to turn the ill-fortune of this voyage to my advantage. Supplies ran too low to remain at sea any longer, and as fate would have it, we put into port in Har Ganeth on the eve of Death Night.

So it is that, as twilight falls over the City of Executioners, I stand on the observation deck of my vessel. The Spire is lashed to the piers, for the city's ports have been closed for this night of holy celebration. Ropes and a short span of water alone would be no defence against the Maibd, for their speed and grace is the equal of all but the gladiators of Eldrazor. Only the foolish would face down the Brides of Khaine on Death Night, but the wise do not flail against the tempest - they turn the storm to their advantage. Instead, the slave-hold's doors abut the corralled dock, awaiting my signal to be opened. Even now, I can hear the faint and traitorous tone of hope rising in the voices of the slaves below - the ones who have not already been sold to the Temples and to houses seeking their favour. Those of my crew who remain on board know to fear Death Night in Har Ganeth, for the disciples of Khaine will take any too weak to resist and will broker no accords with their prey. Fear will keep them manning the Reapers until the red-misted dawn breaks.

For my part, I shall watch as the remaining slaves are driven out onto the pier, the holds are shut behind them, and the bloodthirsty daughters of Khaine descend like avatars of slaughter on the offering laid before them. Even now, Anthyrra stands beside me, smiling cruelly as she conjures a messenger-familiar to bring news of my small gift to the nearest temple. Tonight may be the Lord of Murder's festival, but we devotees of Atharti will not abandon our own debaucheries for the sake of a few bloodthirsty Khainites.

I am Varek Bloodspite, master of the Black Ark Spire of Blissful Damnation. I will survive this night, no matter how many others must perish in my place.

Best story so far: (edited) Razhoir - cold, brutal, short and brilliant.
Worst story so far: (edited) Wolden Spoons - if only because the Witch Elves wouldn't check the basement first. :P

_________________
"The wrath of a good man is not to be feared. They have too many rules."

"Good men don't need rules. Today is not a good time to find out why I have so many."


Last edited by Haagrum on Sat Dec 21, 2013 11:11 am, edited 6 times in total.



Mon Dec 16, 2013 10:18 pm
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Death Night Survivor
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Joined: Mon Aug 26, 2013 5:47 am
Posts: 92
Location: BC, Canada
Love this idea! Great thoughts so far! Here's an attempt of my own:

Only fools take Death Night lightly in the land of chill, least of all in Har Ganeth. I had lived through three hundred Death Nights, prior to fleeing the City of Executioners aboard the Black Ark Dawn's Lament. Only through a combination of equal parts treachery, cunning, and the blessing of Drakira, Queen of Vengeance, was I able to survive my three hundred first.

Back Story
I was born to one of the lesser houses of the nobles of Har Ganeth, a birthright preserved largely by the minor influence of my mother, a sorceress whose skill with dark magic proved formidable enough to gain a modicum of influence over long centuries. This displeasured many larger, more influential houses. It was thus on my 300th Death Night that my mother was slaughtered, the assassin's doomfire-seared corpse bearing the insignia of house Shar'Tan. While my eventual plans for ascension perhaps meant her death was inevitable, in an instant my birthright had been shattered. My father disappeared in a manic rage. I became nothing more than a commoner. With the magical protection offered by my mother gone, and the knowledge that Lord Shar'Tan would soon learn of my survival, I had no option but to flee. It was no longer Khaine I thought of each Death Night, but Drakira.

The Corsair
Over years of pillaging, conquest, and slaving as a crew member of Dawn's Lament, I devised my plan for vengeance against Shar'Tan. Where my mother was methodical and calculated, my growing hatred armed me with an impatience I could only sate by imagining that each each soldier's skull I cracked and limbs I dismembered were his, each cursed Asur I tortured until they begged for death... was him. It was one such excuse for an elf who planted the seed of my ultimate plan for vengeance in his cowardly plea to trade his life for one of my enemies. Drakira did not want for sacrifices, I can assure you.

When I returned to Har Ganeth for the first time following my escape, it was with a name earned from over a century of conquest abroad. It was the last raid before my return, however, where the foundation of my plan for revenge was set. Among our newest slaves were a pair of Asurian nobles, handpicked for a lifetime of torturous servitude to none other than the Sisters of Despair themselves. I had climbed to a sufficient military rank - through both feats of combat and strategic disposal of certain higher ranking officers of a less... fortuitous constitution - to arrange to serve as captain of the small retinue of Dawn's Lament guards responsible for delivering the Asur to the Sisters alive. At last, it appeared the Queen of Vengeance had heard my pleas.

Death Night
It wasn't difficult to bribe the soldiers assigned to me to kill the hated Asur. The hard part was first convincing them break into Shar'Tan's palace (few doors in Har Ganeth remain closed when bearing objects of worth to the Sisters of Despair), slaughtering Shar'Tan's family, and replacing the Asurian slaves with Shar'Tan and his wife, dressed in their garb and short their tongues and fingers, to be transported to the sisters.

So it was that I survived my three hundred first Death Night in the last place I would have imagined - the "comforts" of the Sisters' bloody halls, my delivery having earned both a temporary reprieve from the chaos of the streets, and the satisfaction of hearing a full night of Shar'Tan's pathetic, blood curdling, tongueless screams.

---

Best story so far: (Edited) Omnichron - the dragon/betrayal at the end was the cherry on top!
Worst so far: (Edited) Tough one! I'll have to go with Wolden Spoons though. Not sure there's much of a strategy there...

_________________
PLOG: Reapers of the Dawn


Last edited by Scythe on Sat Dec 21, 2013 8:50 am, edited 2 times in total.



Tue Dec 17, 2013 7:27 am
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Sacrificed to Khaine on Death Night
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Joined: Sun Nov 24, 2013 1:37 am
Posts: 11
'Don't look in the basement, don't look in the basement, don't look in the basemen.... Look! The Spirit of Grugni!'

****scarpers****

Best story so far: Scythe
Worst so far: Shadowblade's - did nobody else see him? He even corrected this, damn he's sneaky!

_________________
Strykan ar stark I den har.


Last edited by Wolden Spoons on Wed Dec 18, 2013 9:47 pm, edited 1 time in total.



Tue Dec 17, 2013 8:24 am
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Trainee Warrior

Joined: Sat Jun 08, 2013 7:53 am
Posts: 36
Surviving Death Night should be easy for me. As a Black Guard my skills with any melee weapon will outshine any number of Witch Elves that should find their way to me, no matter how great their frenzy. I shall be with my unit, and 20 of us could easily defend ourselves against a ragged throng of Khaines daughters. We are never off guard and rest is for the weak, our eternal vigilance will keep us sharp. In fact I pray to Khaine that many of them find us so we can do his honour in spilling their blood.

I feel that I will not have this muderous pleasure though, for as wild and frenzied as these witches get, I get the feeling the politics of an elf can find a way. Should Hellbrons swarm attack a convoy of Malekiths personal guard, sent by him personally to the city with a cargo so valubale that we are to protect it, then I think a purge would be terrible and glorious. Although on second thoughts with his mothers devious ways, we could see some action tonight.

Best story: (Scythe)
Worst story: (Mellee)

I take it 21st of December was chosen as it is the longest night of the year. :)


Tue Dec 17, 2013 12:51 pm
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Slave (off the Altar)
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Joined: Fri Dec 13, 2013 3:46 pm
Posts: 13
Who are you to call me «cruel»? Cruelty had nothing to do with what I did. Unlike most of our kind, I never knew the desire for this feeling, this volatile crave I was taught to despise. No. Pleasure itself is an impure erring one must avoid at all cost. The only thing I value is ice-cold reasoning. My brother does as well and that’s why we were so close throughout all these years. Valk’niss and his wife and children even bought the house next to mine as he returned from war. His martial abilities were certain, which is why I was only half surprised when he returned unharmed. He even got promoted and came back with the honors. Maybe that’s what changed him.

His behavior had been altered by his years of war. Lust for blood, glory or horror… I don’t know what had transformed him but he wasn’t the Valk’niss I knew before. His house soon shined with ornaments and he didn’t miss an occasion to make me feel inferior, to make me envy his new situation. Fool.

The screams of his children and his slaves being slaughtered in this night of dread and terror frightened my household. I was there, listening to the light footsteps and the feral growling of the witches as they rounded his house which happened to bear unholy runes. Yes, I painted those signs and meticulously sabotaged his doors and windows to let the brides of Khaine enter his house. That was not cruel. In the morning, I’ll pick my strongest slave and offer him to Khaine. He deserves better from my family than the weak blood he was given tonight.

Best story so far: Direweasel
Worst so far: Melle


Last edited by Razhoir on Fri Dec 20, 2013 12:47 pm, edited 1 time in total.



Tue Dec 17, 2013 4:20 pm
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Corsair
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Posts: 8714
Location: Hag Graef
"Tis the season again", whispered the scald.
He performed usually at nights, entertaining drunken sailors and easy-going girls.
But that night, all pubs were closed. Death Night, they called it, for a good reason.
That night was going to be long. The longest in the year.
Fight or flee? But all doors in the city were double locked, nowhere to hide, and his poor fighting talents would not match a single rookie witch elve.
"Well, if you cannot beat'em, join'em"

The scald went to the richest district of the city. Here, he was sure to find convenient victims offered by the wealthy to appease the blood thirst.
He only needed to encourage the crazyness rather than resist it.

And here they were, just under a large fir tree, a group of slaves, wrapped up in shiny craft paper.
A bell in his hand, with his fancy red hat, the scald had to do his best if he wanted to survive one more Death Night.

What was the tune again?
< clearing his throat >

"Violent night, bloody night,
All is harm, all is fight
Found your virgin Maibdes and Hags.
Holy instant of murder and fright,
Slit in frenzied pace.
Slit in frenzied pace.

Violent night, bloody night,
Targets quake at the sight,
Bloody streams from turmoil afar,
Dreadful fights seen once a new year;
Slice lacerate and burn!
Slice lacerate and burn!

Violent night, bloody night,
Khaine our God, loves pure fight
Radiant beams from our holy slice,
With the death of many sacrificed,
See us, Lord, at their death.
See us, Lord, at their death."


Magically attracted by the music, a group of frenzied girls with incredibly long hair and nearly as long swords came from a nearby street.
Ah? Here comes the first group of Barbie dolls, the brides of Ken.
How touching to see how they rush towards their little gifts!


<shouting at the slaves:> "All together:"
<singing>
"We wish you a Merry Death Night;
We wish you a Merry Death Night;
We wish you a Merry Death Night and a Happy Khaine Year."


:mrgreen: Ho :mrgreen: ho :mrgreen: ho!
Merrrrry Death Night!
:killed:

(edited: added paragraph) As the gifts were being opened - litterally -, the scald started to gather the craft paper scattered with blood.
He would gently remind the youngsters that they were not to litter, but as it was a sacred night, he would take care of their leftovers himself so as not to spoil them with chores.
This year again, the girls had their fun, and that was all that counted. :)

-=-=-
Original lyrics: http://www.christmas-carols.net/carols/ ... night.html
-=-=-
Best story: (edited) Omnichron (excellent end, I did not see it coming)
Worst story: Wolden Spoons (not much substance)
(OOC: you would expect something wacky from me wouldn't you? ;) )

_________________
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 Dec 17, 2013 5:01 pm
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Slave (off the Altar)

Joined: Tue Nov 12, 2013 10:37 pm
Posts: 11
"And here it comes again, master," says my officer and last time checks his soldiers. Our house stands at full arms this night, as every previous one. Several streets behind us belong to our noble house, and centre is shrine to Atharti. Half of forces are ready, to keep these mad witches off temple and our homes, while second stays in barracs. to reinforce us in the case of need.
The echoing sounds of women are heard first, then several few are moving along street. Our silent wall of spears and crossbows on roofs usually are enough to drive them off. But still, every Night of Death are coming few.

As exactly that time. Large band of witches led by a priestess, which hates my mistress, the noble of Hag Graef and Atharti priestess herself. No need of pondering where she is aiming, and what is she trying to do. The Temple of Khaine attempts each this feast our guard, by small bands or even larger attacks. What is it that time? Shouting in frenzy, they charge forward.

"Aim!" I shout order to my men.
"Fire!" first salvo of bolts cut down number of them.
"Fire!" second one increases number of wounded and dead.
"Fire at will!" and ranks of witches falter, depleted by casualties. They still roll onward. A few metres to contact.
"Spears! Forward!" I order and our shield wall with forest of spears is moving forward. Naked women leep at us, and blades shine in moonlight. Spears thrust forth and back, blooded and the very few remaining witches are slained.
"Move on!" I shout and our infantry moves forward, stepping over dead and wounding, finishing every single wounded witch left in our streets, clearing our house possesions from intruders.
The witches elves are not the only one hunter in this city...
I lower down and with pleasure cut through throat of dieing one. "In the name of your god, I hope you enjoy my sacrifice, biatch."


Wed Dec 18, 2013 6:58 pm
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Malekith's Best Friend
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Location: Norway
Master Dareth looked a little paler than usual as he stood beside me, letting his gaze turn to the temple which the witches soon would arrive from.

"My lord, the slaves you picked out are all here. Isn't it time for us to retreat to the fort?" he asked with a controlled voice, keeping his fear at bay.
I looked back at the slaves, a few hundreds of them, with the fourty three dedicated soldiers of the Master standing guard. "Soon" I said, letting the pause hang in the air for a few more seconds "I enjoy the attention of the brides for the few seconds before we retreat into the tower and close the gates". I let the smile show as I always enjoyed how the witches would charge in and both slay the unworthy ones as well as picking out the best sacrifices for their cauldron.

"Yes my Lord" he responded, taking a deep breath and rested his hand onto the pommel of his sword. "It's quite the sight I heard".

After a few more minutes, screams rose from the settlements closer to the temple. Most of them were slaves, although I was quite sure that some unfortunate souls would be surprised and caught while they retreated to their homes. Suddenly the first wave of Brides of Khaine came into view, and a lot more of them following with their cries of death.

The master moved back slowly, a little smile on his lips behind my back. Closer and closer to the gate. The slaves started running, a few who tried to get into the tower were slain outright by Dareths guard and the rest started on their way to the shorelines.

"Enjoy the Night of Death, Lord" he said, the last word with both spite and amusement as he rushed to the door, his guard right behind him.

I turned around, returning the smile with the brides closing in from my back "I certainly will, and I hope you will find it as amusing as I do".

Just before Dareth reached the gates, they shut down in front of him. He turned around to see Arshaan, the black dragon, soar over me. I grabbed the reins, sprinted up and used the velocity of my dragon to get on top of him, leaving the ground where the Brides of Khaine arrived just seconds after.

What a night it would be. Watching the sacrifices of treacherous friends and slaves alike, with the best view in the entire city.

Best story: Haagrum
Worst story: Marky (I don't think you'll survive that :lol: )

_________________
Personal quote: "It's better to do little damage and lose nothing than to do lots of damage and lose everything."
Final tournament score for 7th DE book in 8th edition - W/D/L: 25/5/10


Last edited by Omnichron on Fri Dec 20, 2013 9:06 am, edited 1 time in total.



Thu Dec 19, 2013 1:07 pm
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Malekith's Personal Guard
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Location: Terre Haute, IN, USA
Lady Doloura of House Rasivrein had lived many years in Har Ganeth, over the decades she had developed her own sixth sense on when Death Night would come. So when it did, she was ready. She knew she would be a target this year, having slighted a hag by not bowing at her approach at a city council meeting in the springtime. She hadn't intended disrespect, she simply hadn't noticed her approach. Witch Elf hags brook no excuses, even more so than most Druchii.

So when the time came, Doloura was ready. She had doubled the guard at her front gate, but as anticipated, they were still easily overwhelmed in the frenzied chaos that descended on the household that night. A few witch elves fell to crossbow bolts, a few more to sword strikes from the gate keepers, but the rest, still at least two dozen strong, continued into the Rasivrein family villa. They had a wild look in their eye that would brook no parley. Only blood would quench their lust tonight.

The front door was barred from the inside, and none of the windows were at ground level. The witches would have to burst down the door with sheer force. And burst it down they did, taking a full ten minutes and making tons of noise. The guards in the house were ready and waiting. More bolts whizzed through the air into the doorway, felling more witches. As the next rounds clicked in position, the guards on the stairway took aim again, while the two guards to either side of the door dropped their halberds, the sharp metal quickly and effortlessly slicing through the necks of two more Brides of Khaine, and they slumped down to the ground, their poisoned blades falling from their dead hands and clanging noisily on the polished dark marble floor.

Still, the Witch Elves kept coming, and the furor of their attack quickly subdued the two guards at the door. By now, though, the second volley of bolts from the crossbowmen on the stairs had found their marks, dropping another 5 witches, the sixth wounded but still fighting on. Still, eight witches remained, and once joined in melee, the crossbowmen were easy prey. In a matter of moments, they lay dead on the stairway, and the witches were beyond to the second level, and making their way quickly through to where the master bedchambers lie.

They turned the corner, and again were met by crossbow fire. These were Doloura's personal bodyguards, outside her bedchamber door, and her most trusted underlings. They dropped two witches immediately, then pulled their swords and charged the witches in an effort to protect their mistress. They were heavily armored, and even had Sea Dragon cloaks, which were rare prizes given only to the best. The two warriors knew each other well, and fought well in concert, each second the first defensively as the first attacked, and then trading off. Several witch elves found their death in that hallway, and could not get round to flank the two in the close quarters. The witch elves fell back, and were temporarily dismayed to see their blows bouncing harmlessly off of the tough dragon hide of the cloaks, or the parry of their opponents.

Just as defeat seemed imminent for the witches, one of them managed to put a scratch on the face of the first guard. It was no more than that - just a simple scratch, and it barely even drew blood. But witch elf poison is powerful indeed, and within moments, the poison in the wound was coursing through the veins of the guard. He fell to a knee, clutching his face, and in his confused state, actually ran his sword right through the second guard, who was caught completely flat-footed by this betrayal. As he fell to the ground, with his dying blow, he in turned stabbed his brother and they died together. For yes, these two were brothers.

Only 3 witch elves remained, but they were undaunted as they burst easily through the door to Lady Doloura's private bedchambers. Sure enough, they saw a form through the curtained boudoir, and rushed in, heedless to all else around them, weapons flashing in the half-lit chamber. As they stabbed through the curtain at the form, they found themselves slicing through not bone and flesh, as they expected, but some sort of ... container? A leather bag perhaps?

The bag, now pierced, revealed Lady Doloura's final surprise for her unwelcome visitors. As the poisoned gas quickly filled the air, the three remaining witch elves grasped their throats in vein, and fell to the ground. They were dead before they landed.

It was not until well after dawn that Doloura returned back to her home - she had hidden quietly in the woods outside town, spending the night in the freezing cold without the comfort of a campfire. The last thing she wanted to do was bring attention to herself on Death Night. It had taken some of the best guards of her household, but she had survived another year.

Best Story - Cold73 - though I reserve the right to change my mind, because there are several very good submissions. :P
Worst Story - Wolden Spoons

_________________
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 Sat Dec 21, 2013 8:15 pm, edited 2 times in total.



Fri Dec 20, 2013 1:46 am
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Highborn

Joined: Fri Oct 07, 2011 7:06 pm
Posts: 603
Location: the Netherlands
As a veteran of many campains the Death Night has nothing to frighten old Dread Lord Darkmist. It was just some welcome entertainment.
Lord Darkmists fortified mansions was on the edge of the city, far from the temples of Khaine. Protecting it was not that hard. Enticing a few Sisters of Slaugther to join in the fun was almost easer said then done. Finding a Supreme Sorceress willing to spend her energy on helping him was a bit more difficult, but the promise of furthering her studies and offering protection against the Witches made it a rather sweet deal.

Death Night itself did not frighten Lord Darkmist...it just gave him the oppertunity to get rid of some of the upstarts. New Lords and Master who thought that getting rid of an old badger like Darkmist would get them in good standing with the 'Lords that Rule'. It was almost to easy to have one of their number, a newly promoted ex-Black Guard called Raistin, too convince some of the other young-lings to join arms in the upcoming Death Night.

Raistin was easily convinced when Darkmists offered him to join him in his mannor for Death Night, It is after all a a very defensible manner, and the promise that no one would miss the sorceress, an old rival of Raistin, if she were to fall in battle almost made the deal to sweet.

Guiding the witches in their holy slaughter to pay their respect to the right house, where the up-starts were was a lot harder. The Witchers are easy enough to bait into going in some direction.... But finding some skilled riders desperate enough to bait them was more difficult. fortunately some down on their luck riders lost their mounts in a campaign some weeks ago, and since no one in his right mind would sponsor failures who lost their horses, they were convinced to help Darkmist ff they could keep the horses after wards and reclaim their honor. The last thing that Darkmist needed to do was convince an assassin to help him, this alone cost him a small fortune. but the end result was worth it. But the end result was worth it.

The new Dark Riders did their utmost to bait a sizeable ammount of Witch Elves to the appointed place....This ofcourse didn't really go without any bloodshed, four of the seven dark riders were pulled from their horses and butchered mercilessly. But the gate of the mansion opening just when the Witches got near it was all the Witches needed to flood that mansion. With a break in their defenses most of the up-starts were slaughtered before they could mount a defense. Only 2 of them managed to survive...one by loosing conciousness and being trapped under a bleeding corpse, the other had locked himself in the basement...all the while praying 'don;t look in the basement...don;t look in the basement'

The Mansion of Lord Darkmist was also heavily tested by the Witch Elves. But with the aid of Raistin, the lady soreceress and the Sisters of Slaughter none managed to set foot in the mansion. And as Darkmist had already expected Raistin did try to drive his halberd into the back of the lady sorceress. It would have been easy enough to simply dispatch Raistin, but finding the specific time to tip Raistin over the wall into the hands of the Withs Elves below after he had hurt the Sorceress seriously without leaving her permanently disabled was a lot harder. But after years spend of the battle field, Lord Darkmist had an uncanny ability to read the flow of battle and see just when to strike. And so he did. Raistin was tipped over the wall, broken and bruised Raistin was taken to the Temple of Khaine and was never seen of heard from again.

As for the sorceress....Lord Darkmist still had his uses for her and nurtered her health.

Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.


Best Story: Dire Weasel
Worst Story: X

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Fri Dec 20, 2013 10:20 am
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Prologue.

I am Damien from house Malakai, my house serve the true king of the elves Malekith. The deeds of my house are never written in the history of our people the druchii, for we serve our lord in secret. Disguised as a merchant family, we existed since the days of Aenarion founded Nagarythe. As the heir of this house I travel from the cold chaos wasteland to the north, to the heart of these lesser being called human they called Altdorf. But none presented a challenge worthy of my blade, for we druchii knows that only a druchii possessed the power and skills needed to conquer another druchii.
Death Night.

So in this eary silent night I open the gates and doors of my house, and the blood of slaves flooded the marble floor drowning the marvelous carpet imported from the farest region of our conquered land. I could only hope that the smell of blood will invite the brides of Khaine, and maybe Khaine himself will blessed this house with his pressence. As I meditate I open my garments, and I ready the family blade laying in front of me. My eyes close but my sense could feel the city cold touch, and as I draw breath the city become more silent. Tension hung in the air, and I could feel my blood flowing through my veins. I steady my self though barely, for the adrenaline are starting to build up inside me. My heart knows this will be a joyus night, and I shall hone my skills, testing them through their limits.

Suddenly the silence breaks, from the far reaches of the night a cry of war is heard. Next a scream so loud it's echo pierced the night's air. Soon a horror that not even a true scholar can describe, witch elves started pouring into the night. The sound of blade slashing through meat, bones crackling, and blood painted the street red that dreaded night.

Slowly I open my eyes, and raise my posture. There stood in front of me a beautiful dark figure, the moon light glimmers her long hair and her body glisten with the blood of her victims. Our eyes met, and in a fraction of a seccond she leap and plunges her dagger to my chest. With train reflexes I parry her attack, and we exchange blows by blows. She step back trying to meassure me, I took another good look at her and I notice she was a hag by the marking on her body. In a blink of an eye she already on my left side trying to rip my gut's out with her blade, knowing that I was faster and more skilled in the art of war I smile and strike her with my pummel.

She moans but in my arrogance she scratch my chick with her blade, and poison start to fill my body. I can feel it coarsing through me, no matter I do not open the doors in my house without preparation. The vial was clear and inside it a blueish glowing liquid flowing down my throat. She hiss, and suddenly she realize she was the prey that night. To late for her my blade already slash through her silky thigh, and she falls to her knee. But she was no mere witch elves she is a hag, and she earn that position with blood. No matter, the wound on her thigh slows her down and I like to see her try. Somehow I found a spark in her, and I like it. So I disarm her and took her that night, she tried to resist but to no avail. Dozens of witches came pouring that night, and I slew them all in a carnage of blood. Yet to my supprise the hag now joins me in this frenzy orgy, and she cut her sisters like animal.

We dance to the aria of blood that night, and when dawn rises her frenzy finally gone wisked away by the morning dew. Our gaze met once more, and just as the sun rises and shine it's bright light through my eyes she was gone. She dissapear just as the night turns into day, but her smell lingers in my memory. A messenger came to me, "My lord, message from Ulthuan. The Phoenix King have requested your council". I let loose a dark grim, my Lord Malekith will be pleased.


Best: Scythes
Worst: wolden spoon


Fri Dec 20, 2013 1:56 pm
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Morathi's Best Friend
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The Good Doctor's 10 ways to (maybe) survive Death Night!

  • Keep 'em busy. Open a Chaos Gate. Get two sorceresses to cross the streams. Nothing ups your chances of survival like instilling those around you with a greater sense of emergency.
  • Hide in the temple. Seriously. Death Night is celebrated outside. Inside the temple complex might be the safest place. Provided, you know, you manage to get in.
  • Get really, really drunk. If you've ever drank yourself into a stupor, or got stoned to invincibility, you know that you will generally wake up somewhere strange and unfamiliar, like in the garage of the aunt-in-law of that guy you met three years ago in a foreign exchange program. So load up on sixpacks and some weed, and prepare to go where even Google Maps needs a double-take.
  • Arrange to get a colonoscopy. Nobody wants to walk in on that.
  • Eat 80lbs of cookies. They can't sacrifice you in the temple if you don't fit through the door.
  • Dress for the occasion. Wear whiskers, a crocodile tail, bunny ears, a turtle chest, a grass skirt and stockings (bonus points if you have hairy legs). Nobody wants to explain this kill to the high priestess.
  • Smoke 'em out. Get your friends together and smoke weed. Lots and lots of weed. In an unventilated room. By the time the maibd get to you, they're rolling over the floor with shrieks and giggles, chasing leprechauns across rainbows.
  • Do air travel as your own luggage. You will disappear off the face of the planet for three days.
  • Be a marriage councillor. Given that the feast is in his honour and everything, Khaine could at least make a token appearance. Note this repeatedly. Mention off-hand that the relation appears to be one-directional and subservient, but as long as she's happy... She is happy, right? Shall we schedule a session to discuss this?
  • Invite your mother-in-law over. Insist the maibd take either you or her. Beg. You may not survive, but you won't care.

Happy holidays!

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SAU XV: Pawn of the Dead | SAU XVII: The Frosty Dozen | SAU XIX: On the Brink of Madministration | Running fiction: House Arhakuyl


Sat Dec 21, 2013 3:13 pm
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I would like to remind all participants that the death night is nigh!
If you haven't selected your choices, please do so before the night is over as the thread will be locked (when the day ends in an unspecified timezone. After all Witch Elves don't care much for specific hour)
The winner (and loser) shall be announced tomorrow.

_________________
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


Sat Dec 21, 2013 5:49 pm
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Tons of great entries. I keep changing my vote!

I've decided that I won't vote for somebody to win, if they themselves haven't voted for somebody too. So I'm going to change it again. :)

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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


Sat Dec 21, 2013 6:36 pm
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Location: Sat drinking 'soul stealer' cocktails in the city of Vilebrier with Morathi...
Death Night in the Malice Tower.

The howl of anguish snapped Delekth from his vacant stare into The Wastes. As well as the sounds of murder within his own watch tower he could make out the eerie drone of at least two other alarm horns sounding out in the distance. He did not feel at ease; his watch had been disturbed with terrible visions of his loss of children and those he chose to call friends, even if they happened to be the gaggle of guardsmen who frequented the nearby slaughter inns for a vial of Doom Juice.

There were many druchii who went insane due to the horrifying nightmares and imaginations which those who guarded the northern lands of Naggaroth would suffer. It was not uncommon for a warrior of the guard to throw himself from one of the tall towers which were dispersed at regular intervals across the terrain that merged the Land of Chill with the Realm of Chaos. Others would murder their fellow guards before taking this own lives - such was the fate that had probably befallen the poor sap who's scream had awoken him from his concious slumber.

A sneer crossed over the sharp features of Delekth at the thought; those warriors were weak, they deserved to die.

The cacophony of alarms seemed to fade and then return, louder than before. Delekth assumed that this meant something of importance was afoot and so shouldered his Urathian just in time to hear his Master Marksman bark the order to assemble, although not before Delekth had also slammed a cartridge of bolts into the crossbow first; you learnt to always have your weapon ready when you were posted on one of the Watchtowers.

He arrived in time to hear Dranack split his detachment into two groups; apparently their tower commander had been dragged from his apartment, naked as the day he'd been brought kicking and screaming into this world and murdered on the turret of the tallest tower. There was a humerous ironic artistic license to the whole affair Delekth thought as the commander had died the same way that he'd been brought into this world, albeit with his heart having been torn out and then 'lost'. Somebody was having a sick but fun game, Delekth muttered under his breath and stole a moment to expose the cruel smirk that flashed across his face as he realised he was now another step less away from one day ruling the tower himself - a fact that he knew would one day come true, if his praise and sacrifices to Khaine were acknowledged that is.

So as Delekth's party set out on their patrol, he began to wonder who it was that had slain the commander and then run off with his heart. It was a strange coincidence but Delekth happened to realise that tonight was indeed Khaine's favourite; the Night of Death. Fortunately for him this celebration was barely manifested on the Watchtowers as no temples to Khaine existed other than by the use of one's weapons against the nigh endless torrent of warbands and armies of Chaos foemen - coated in hair and horns as they were. No, death night here did not materialise.

After his troop searched one of storeroom networks on the second level, it was apparent that two of the guards were missing as they'd failed to reconvene afterwards. Delekth assumed that they'd abandoned their duties in the hope that all the hubris and confusion would mask their short dash to the latrines or even the tower's Slaughter Inn or their barracks. Delekth demanded that the remaining seven guards of his group immediately search the sleeping quarters on the fifth floor in the hope of killing two birds with one stone by finding evidence for the tower's loss of commander and the whereabouts of the two slithering thinskins*, who knows thought Delekth, perhaps he'd get lucky and find that in fact three birds would be dead?

His luck certainly held true as they arrived at the Barracks to find it awash in blood, guts and dead guardsmen including their master marksman supervisor, Dranack. All of them had been hacked and slashed in runes and sigils of Khaine and it quickly became apparent that tonight was indeed no ordinary night. Delekth however knew exactly how to play this game and, having spent his youth in Har Ganeth, knew exactly what was needed. He gave command of the remaining troop, with the exception of one other warrior, to Hedron and ordered them to stand guard on the second level and to hold ground against any intruders that they did not recognise. He suggested that Hedron take the regimental horn and to blow it to summon backup. He meanwhile with the youngest of the group would move to the highest floor and communicate to the next tower over and relay what had happened. The young recruit would simply be to help in case there was a fight en-route. Hedron agreed that this was a good course of action and looked relieved and, for a split second, triumphant as Delekth handed him the reins of control to the remaining warriors. Idiot, Delekth thought.

As he neared the top he order the young recruit to take down the flag whilst he himself would man the horn. As the elf walked away from him however, Delekth lowered his repeater crossbow to quickly and quietly pump four bolts into the recruit's spine. A pitiful squeel of horror managed to emanate from the recruit's throat only to be silenced by the slice of Delekth's dagger, which he quickly then put to good use by firstly cutting the tower flag down - a sign that was sure to draw attention to their tower, and to then carve the rune of Khaine on his victim's forehead.

This warrior had been weak, he'd deserved to die.

He then sliced then banner from the rope and tied the rope the to the flagpole as a making a noose like double knot at the other end. He then climbed into this makeshift seat and lowered himself down over the side of the tower under the overhang of the Commander's quarters and as such out of sight of any of the bolt-holes or barracks windows. As he settled for sleep to the sounds of Hedron's pitiful band being sliced up by the agents of Khaine, Delekth knew that Khaine had indeed answered his prayer; the Commandership was as good as his if all the tower was being purged as he imagined, not that that helped keeped the gradually materialising dreams of his family and friends at bay...

*****
Lord Silus dismounted from his Black Dragon. As commander of the northern wasteland it was his duty to investigate any disturbances on the Watchtowers. "Report." He turned to address the guard from the next tower along who'd sprinted to meet him. "Three of the towers were completely deserted after signalling that they were under attack, except for one guard in the Malice Tower. He'd chosen to hang himself instead of face the enemy."

Lord Silus sneered in contempt; "he was weak, he deserved to die - have him drawn and quartered as a sacrifice to Khaine that we may one day know what happened here"

*****

Inspired by the last short story in our 6th edition army book. As such, I do not feel that my piece is worthy of any votes, however I hope you enjoyed the read! I tried to think of a different setting / location for death night to take place and, having recently re-read this short story, felt that this was a good piece of inspiration. :D

*Thinskins; derived from the opposite of thick skinned - which in druchii implies that someone who is thinskinned is a coward. Thinskin is the informal noun term for those elves.

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The Black Treasures of Naggaroth
The Cult of the Vile Rose History
Death of a Thousand Cuts armylist + batreps TLOEDG (The League of Extraordinary Druchii Gentlemen)


Sun Dec 22, 2013 3:33 am
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Dragon Lord
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The thread is now locked. The Maibds now prowl the streets of Naggaroth's cities and decks of the Black Arks.

Hope that your preparations will prove sufficient against their poisoned blades.

_________________
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 Dec 22, 2013 6:27 pm
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Dragon Lord
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As the final rays of the sun descended behind the jagged peaks of the Black Spine Mountains, the druchii living within one of the cities of the dark elves knew exactly what it meant. The Death Night was upon them and with the last light of the day gone, they needed no more reminder than the screams that began emerging from the temples of Khaine. It was a cacophony of sound, a mix of pain and terror uttered by the last gasp of sacrificial victims that on any other day would be music to the cruel ears of the dark elves. On this night however, it was a sign of things to come, accompanied only by the thuds of shutting doors and barricaded windows. Everyone was out to stay alive when the Maibds, brides of Khaine, prowled the streets, and anyone caught would become their glorious sacrifice to the god of war.

In the center of the holy city of Har Ganeth stood the greatest temple dedicated to Khaine ever built. Eerie red light illuminated its windows and crenelations. Screams echoed among its walls and escaped into the darkness of the night. A figure stepped onto the balcony on the tallest tower; with an otherworldly grace, the bare feet crossed the marble floor and leapt onto the balcony's railing. The figure's flowing white hair reached all the way to her ankles and wrapped around the elf's naked, blood covered body. The crone became a maiden. Hellebron, the queen of witch elves stood above her city in her full glory. Her laughter could be heard in every corner of Khaine's holy domain. Laughter than quickly turned cruel and transformed into a scream that pierced the very souls of those who heard it with terror of what was to come.

The Death Night was on.

The sound of crashing door was not a strange thing to hear on the death night. A small group of witch elves stormed into an unremarkable home as they had many times before this one, and would many more times throughout the night. Their screams of frenzy filled the small building but instead of the screams of terror they expected in return there was only silence. Their leader raised a blade to her lips for a silent motion to quiet down for the rest of the maibd. The witch elves were as much frenzied, unpredictable warriors as they were hunters. They were still dark elves after all.
"Don't look in the basement, don't look in the basement, don't look in the basemen.... Look!
The Spirit of Grugni"
Muffled voice coming from beneath the floorboards reached their ears and they grinned in unison. After a quick search of the house they discovered a trapdoor leading down. No sacrifice would escape its fate tonight. The trapdoor was ripped off of its hinges by the drugged elf women and their leader leapt into the darkness, ignoring the ladder that was so conveniently placed for climbing. In the corner of the small basement she saw a figure cowering in terror. With a grin, her tongue flicked out and slowly licked her red lips. Taking measured, seductive steps, the witch elf approached the hiding druchii, reaching out with her blade, she put a mere nick in his cheek. Witch Elf blades were often poisoned, but on this Death Night, the concoction they used was of a special kind. Her victim's eyes went wide as the poison coursed through his veins and his body went limp, collapsing into a heap. With a cry of joy, the witch elf grabbed his hair and started pulling him out onto the streets of the city. The pain of being dragged by the hair was nothing compared to what was to come. Their victim was thrown into the middle of the street, surrounded by the maibd. As each of the witch elves hopped lightly into the circle and gave the sacrifice a little cut, the pain their victim suffered was magnified thousandfold, every caress of the blade feeling as if it went straight through his heart. The witch elves danced around their victim, toying with him and leaving only tiny scratches on the surface of his skin. The poison in his veins kept him aware, kept him feeling every little cut. It didn't take long before the man resembled anything other than a bloody mess anymore, his skin turned red from the cuts and the pouring blood. He collapsed into the pool of his own blood and the leader of the maibds stood over the body, grabbing it by the hair again and neatly slicing into the neck, separating the head from the rest. She raised her grisly trophy high into the air and let out a shriek of victory, followed quickly by the rest of her group, their high pitched, drugged voiced echoing through the streets.

In the docks of Har Ganeth, slaves milled about confused. It appeared they had been set free by their captors onto the empty streets of this strange city. It only appeared so as the screams of the death night echoed in the air and the slaves immediately realized something was amiss. Without as much as a hint of warning a group of blood covered witch elves turned the corner and ran into the unarmed crowd, their blades slicing at the soft flesh of the sacrifices. The streets ran red with blood and as one of the maibd licked the blood and venom off of her blade, she spotted the captain of the black ark standing on the edge. She raised her weapon in a salute. Khaine was pleased with the offering.

When a small procession approached the temple of Khaine in the middle of the Death Night, at first, the few Witch Elves standing guard were stunned with surprise. Their attitude changed as they brandished their blades and grinned at the approaching group, knowing that they too would spill blood this night. Before they had the chance to wet their blades, they were informed that the group was delivering slaves from far away Ulthuan to the Crone herself and neither of the guards would entertain the thought of displeasing Hellebron. The group was allowed entry and make their delivery but on the way out they did not have the slaves with them anymore. The two guards descended on the leaving Druchii, their twin blades slashing flesh and letting blood. The crew of Dawn's Lament fought fiercely and held the witch elves at bay as their captain took the opportunity to sneak away from the fray, successfully making his way back to the ship.

High above the city a black dragon carrying its rider flew by where its rider could get the best view of the carnage

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

Thank you all for your participation. The contest was tight but and the first place was tied between two corsairs! It seems life on the ocean prepares you for the Death Night rather well.
The victors and recipients of their own custom "Death Night Survivor" title are Haagrum and Scythe! Congratulations!
Unfotrunately, with an overwhelming number of votes (It couldn't have been a coincidence, I'm sure someone tipped the brides of khaine off) Wolden Spoons has been dragged out onto the streets and sacrificed to the glory of Khaine.

Winners and Losers please contact an administrator to receive your prize :twisted:

I have also unlocked the thread. Feel free to post any comments and criticism. We may be making a couple more simple contests with a custom title reward like this.

_________________
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 Dec 22, 2013 11:46 pm
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Corsair
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Thanks all participants to this first Druchii.net event "Death Night".
Specifically, thanks Dalamar for having the idea in the first place.
Also, a special thanks to Melle for having dared to participate first, despite, as you acknowledged yourself, a very actual risk for your avatar's life.

The result is a series of excellent short stories. I don't know to which extent Khaine was pleased (many of his brides have been lost this night) but for the reader, the outcome was extraordinary. :D

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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|--}


Mon Dec 23, 2013 7:58 am
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heh. thanks.
i read it and thought cool. I must be first on the obvious drag hag theme;)

2 minutes after i posted i reread instructiond thinking:

sh*t, this will draw a huge amount of the rpg guys.
written on phone, with 5 minutes thought,
im done. ....must delete....then i saw 4 ppl already reading. :)

head held high, this was some terrible days, seeing i got some worst votes initially.
i really thought i had to redo my account. ( yup, i read it as a total delete)

hopefully my poor story inspired others to enter, that might not have done so if one of the winners had posted first.

Gj everyone, really nice stories. some even better than AB fluff

and merry christmas

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Mon Dec 23, 2013 1:16 pm
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I thought the idea was brilliant, and as I said at the time, i ended up changing my vote several times because there were tons of good submissions. I was mildly frustrated by people posting stories and not voting, but that's their business I suppose. Next time, you might consider allowing everyone to vote, even if they choose not to create their own story. Just a thought. I love these sorts of things, so I'll contribute either way unless time simply does not permit it.

_________________
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


Mon Dec 23, 2013 2:37 pm
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Morathi's Best Friend
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Sorry about not voting. :oops: It was sort of a joke entry, and then I started reading the other ones to put votes, and people rang the door and I forgot.

Congratulations to the victors, and thanks for the writing, everyone! We have some seriously prolific people in the community. :)

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SAU XV: Pawn of the Dead | SAU XVII: The Frosty Dozen | SAU XIX: On the Brink of Madministration | Running fiction: House Arhakuyl


Mon Dec 23, 2013 3:09 pm
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Dalamar wrote:
Winners and Losers please contact an administrator to receive your prize :twisted:
Haagrum, Scythe and Wolden Spoons have gained their deserved custom title!
If Wolden Spoons wishes to start a new avatar, let me know so that we delete the account.

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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|--}


Mon Dec 23, 2013 5:52 pm
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