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Story Time Contest!

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So as many of you know, the story of roleplay is almost as important as the game itself. With that said, I'm hosting a contest. The contest is simple. Create a story, doesn't have to be about warcraft, can be about anything. Custom lore and what not. No length requirement. Just a story. Make a thread and post that story. The best story will be judged by our magistrates, and the winner will be able to create a custom discord role/tag of his/her choosing. 

This contest closes at 8/25/17. The following submissions after this date will not be accepted.

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Few words:
I know i still lack much knowdelge about English, and thus i apogalize for any ortographical mistakes.


Mira is the home of Tiberius, the creator of the world. He is cooperating with his brother, Tybul. They both are immortal, and their priority is to create planets, races, and then of course stabilizing peace on them. Tiberius created a new planet, Nerad. The name come from two words "Nermin" and "Warda"(meaning flower). 
This history tells about a part of the planet's history. Let's Begin.

Tiberius, the god of the world, while creating Nerad was already planning what races to put in. He though about civilizations rich in knowdelge and magic. With asteroids he would form Nerad and put it in the centre of the world.

The planet in the beginning was full of water, and it lacked land. Tiberius formed an archipelago of islands. He fulled them with trees and animals.
Tiberius couldn't focus on one planet all time, thus he decided to create an organization known as "Sons of Tiberius". Their task was to create new lands, new races
and of course maintain peace on the planet. They were given immortality.

Soon, Tiberius also choosed the leader. From all candidats, he choosed Agaton, who already shown potential amongTiberius and Tybul

The new brotherhood is on its own now.

The question was now, where to create the capital of the brotherhood. Agaton choosed Ciril, the biggest Island of the archipelago.
New microorganisms appear all around the planet. Meanwhile, an unplanned bombard on asteroids on the planet happen. From theese, a new continent would be born - Farahat.
Farahat is known for its tall woods, but also big mountains and fields.
Meanwhile, west from Farahat a new continent is formed - Tarik. Unlike Farahat, it's an mix of steppes and deserts.
In the south, an giant Island called Gaius is created. It's popular for its jungles.

The sons of Tiberius decided to move the archipelago between Tarik and Farahat. Thanks to the new geopolitical situation, they can fully observe the evolutions of races.
Soon, after many experiments, The Sons of Tiberius create their first race - Opium. They are lizzard-looking creatures, able to talk. They are enough inteligent to understand diplomacy and creating their own kingdoms. After releasing them, they create nomadic khanates and focus on exploring the planet and finding the best place to live. 

The Opiums though vanished, dont leaving any tracers after them. They became a big question mark in the history of Nerad. 
Seeying the Opiums as a failure, the Sons of Tiberium decided to start experimating on a new race - Asals.
The Asals are a variant of elves, they would be given beauty and holy magic knowdelge. The Sons of Tiberium would be proud of their work, and announce the Asals as an ideal race. 
The Asals would appear in Farahat and create their capital in the province of Aulus. 
The Asals Kingdom would move its borders until they reach the OstMountains.
The Sons of Tiberium would create an embassy in Aulus, but not given a word where lies Anastazy.

Meanwhile, SoT realesed a new race - Humans. They would start some nomadic kingdoms first, but in next years take an example from the Asals and
start their neomadic revolution.
The humans are known for their bravery and courage. Soon, they discover the holy magic from the Elves.

Meanwhile, the Asals discover a new magic - necromancy. Necromancy was already known for SoT, of course he rates it negativly.


The SoT decide soon to ban necromancy on all Nerad.
This led the Necromancies to organize. They left their homeland, trying to escape from SoT.
Weeks and weeks passed, and the necromancies created an portal. It led to Layla, an planet on the end of the world.


They passed through the portal.
The necromances here could be safe from even Tiberius, because Tibul was taking care of Layla, not him.
Soon, Tibul would discover new emotions in his head. He knew, he wants to get rid of his brother, and became the full owner of all universe. Thus, he decided to ally with his enemies. He offered an pact to the necromancies, which they accepted. 
Tibul would become the god of dead and death.
With Tibul's help, the necromancies create Kasoid. It's an flying citadel and the base of operations of the necromances.
Kasoid would teleport near Nerad, 150 kilometers from its ground. (so its not in the atmosphere like on the image, but on high orbit)

The SoT meanwhile create a new race - Dwarves. They are planned to be small, so they could enter small mountains gaps. 

They create their kingdom in the Ost-Mountains. Dwarves aren't interested much in magic, thus they understand only basic holy magic.

Will the necromancies launch an attack on Nerad? We will know soon (maybe.)


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Guest Fussiler1   
Guest Fussiler1

These are earlier stories of mine. I consider the first one to be my entry, but I would like you to look at the second story as well. I have not received much feedback from these stories, so I would like yours. These are all in different universes than Warcraft.

The autumn me and my younger brother Aldus took Sardes from the king Erestos was a long one and a good one, just the perfect amount of heat. The city's garrison put up little fight and surrendered, but the men in the citadel of the city kept fighting. After a few days of fighting we stormed the citadel. They fought hard, harder than most, but for what cause, I did not know. When the citadel finally fell, we let the survivors go home, commending them for their bravery, but as I inspected them leaving, I noticed a cloaked figure walking along, closely guarded by two men. As my men took the figure out of the stream of soldiers and pulled the cloak off, before me suddenly stood the daughter of Erestos, with great pride and defiance, a tall woman with dark hair covering her shoulders and a fiercesome gaze, an unconvential beauty. I was struck for a few moments, before I ordered her to be imprisoned.

As winter had come, we spent the winter in that city, planning for the next campaign. I had sent messages to my father, who had only ordered for her to remain imprisoned. During the day I would visit that woman in her tower. First she complained about the cold, so I brought her blankets. Then she complained about being bored, so I brought her books. Finally, she complained about loneliness, so I gave her handmaidens and Aldus as guard. In the meantime, we would speak about her father, the books she'd read, the campaigns I'd fought, the things we had seen, and though she remained ever defiant, never ceasing to curse me, I could not help but fall in love. Though, always when I left, I could see her looking east, to her father's realms. When winter ended, I promised to return, though she said she would pray to the Fates for my downfall.

The next spring and summer I invaded the island-states of the allies of Erestos, leaving my little brother Aldus to guard the woman in the tower, taking many cities and defeating their armies near the plains of Kolym. Finally, I stormed the greatest city of the southern islands, the pearl of Iren, thus destroying the greatest threat to my father's realm. I returned triumphantly to my father, for this was one of the last victories we had needed to gain. In autumn, with this great victory, he crowned himself emperor and I was crowned as his co-emperor. I returned to Sardes, to the princess in the tower, and I spent the winter there once more, though she was not impressed. I told her about my journeys and though she cursed me once again, she could not hide her excitement at the tales I told her. Before I left, I told her the next time we would meet I would marry her, which left her with no retort.

The next spring, me and my father gathered our armies and marched upon the eastern realm of Erestos. Before we could do battle, however, he sent his emissaries and pleaded for peace. Though my father wished to reject, I told him of the woman in the tower and he acquiesced. The peace was to be sealed with a marriage, and that was my greatest triumph of them all. I returned to Sardes and took her and Aldus to the capital of my father's realm.

The marriage itself was a good affair. My father had spared no expense for his son and our former enemies themselves had come to seal the peace, hundreds of petty kings coming to pledge allegiance. For five days and five nights we feasted, though my beautiful bride was silent for those five days and five nights, only nodding. When I would interrogate her handmaidens, they too shared her silence, and my brother Aldus, who had guarded her these years, gave me cold and short answers. At my wits' end, I continued to feast, until finally it all came to and end and it was time to consummate the marriage. As I entered the room, I heard soft weeping and my heart sank. I turned around and left.

A year long I tried to make her mine. Whatever she would ask for, I would give her. Every night I would visit her, though I could never bring myself to finally consummate the marriage. Though, no matter what I did, she grew pale and tired, withering. Was she simply homesick? Did she truly hate me so? I asked my friends for advice, but none knew what to do. No matter what I did, I feared she would and could not love me. Some told me to stop trying, to find other women, but whenever I looked at her I could feel my heart beating faster, so I just never stopped. In the end, she merely sat in silence and looked out of the window to the east when I came.

At the end of the year, my father died and I became emperor. At the begin of the new year, my wife disappeared, together with Aldus, unfindable no matter where we searched. I sent my fastest outriders and hunters to find them, and ultimately tracks were found leading east, to the realm of her father. I spent five days contemplating the betrayal of my brother, cursing him in a thousand ways, though I could not bring myself to curse my beautiful wife. On the sixth day, I rose, and gathered the greatest army I had ever brought about, leaving a nephew of mine to rule until I returned. I marched east with an army of two-hundred-thousand men to claim my wife, and Erestos gathered his own armies, and all those kings who had sworn loyalty betrayed me now and joined him, all those enemies we had let live.

In the eastern desert we did battle, a final battle to decide the fate of the entire region. All my foes had massed before me to block the path to my wife, giving me a chance to destroy them all. Would that not have been a perfect ending? We'd live together happily ever after, and she would bear me many sons. If only. We fought long and hard, that is true. We almost broke them, that is also true. In the end though, my traitorous brother Aldus and his men charged, taking advantage of a gap and routed my entire army. I refused to retreat. My pride was my downfall and ultimately I was left with no friends or allies by my side. I was captured and brought before my foes. I was to die the next morning.

In the night, my brother Aldus visited me. I cursed him, naming him kinslayer, and I sent him away. I hoped my last words would haunt him until the day he died.

After that, my wife came and sat silently next to my cell. As I saw her, I grew silent. She was not so meagre anymore, not so pale. Her eyes, once defiant and then empty, were full of life. Her belly was swollen.

''Is that why you fled, Easrin? Because you were pregnant with the child of my brother?'' I asked, and she nodded. Why had she loved him, but not me? Hadn't I always tried to be a good husband? I wanted to rage, to scream, to curse, but when I opened my mouth nothing came out. Finally, I regained some composure. In the end, it was my fault. I would weep at that bitter realization, but there were no tears left to shed.

''I am sorry for forcing you to marry me. Forgive me if I was a bad husband. Go now, take care of my brother, and live a good life.'' I said, sending her away. Those were the last amends I needed to make. As I heard her go, her footsteps echoing through the jail, I closed my eyes, waiting for my death in the morning while trembling in fear. I only hoped that there was someone out there, just one person, who would pray for me after I was gone.

This is the second one.

The wretched cold haunted any man who would dare climb the great Kagrac mountains. It was the first challenge to overcome to reach the end prize. Then came the stalkers in the shadows, after that the treacherous traps in the abandoned cities on the plateaus of the great mountains, until finally, one reached the greatest mountain of all. Then, of course, you had to climb it. Nobody had ever been able to ascend the mountain and return.

Still, this did not discourage men from trying. The prince had set out with an expedition of twenty men, the strongest warriors of the western plains. They defeated the stalkers that came at them, and few fell to the traps. They lingered long in the abandoned cities, taking their time, as few cities below could match the splendour of the ones above. Still, in their long march, many men fell and disappeared, though not by the hands of the denizens of the mountains, but rather by the hands of their comrades. As they came closer and closer to the prize, men began to slaughter each other for the slightest of provocations, until only a few remained in the end, all eager to claim the prize for solely themselves. 

Not so strong after all, the prince thought, after he plunged his sword in the throat of the last dying warrior. Now he was the last survivor of the infighting. He looked at the remaining warriors in the snow, all dead or dying with disdain. If you're going to draw your sword, you better strike true, the prince thought. He continued on, leaving them behind. It was not far now. The ruins seemed to grow more grandiose, with more murals half-covered by ice and snow. After a bit, he finally stood on the edge of a huge chasm, with great chain bridging it. On the other side, he could see a great palace, untouched by time, snow or ice. And on the chain, he saw a lone figure.

He drew his sword and approached, carefully walking across the chain. The winds were strong, and if he walked carelessly they could sweep him off and into the great chasm. So he walked slowly. The figure was not going anywhere, anyway. So he came over, and as he drew closer, he saw the figure was a woman with a great blade, though hardly appropriately dressed for the cold weather. He could not help but chuckle. A woman with a sword was absurd enough, but she was dressed like she lived in the desert.

''And who are you, woman, that you block my way?'' he asked as he stood across her.

''I am a simple guardian. The last one of this trail. Who are you, stranger?'' she asked.

''I am the prince of the Elinessans, woman. I have come for whatever you have been guarding.''

''Strange that a great prince would come all this way. Perhaps you are seeking a reversal of fortunes? Either way, you cannot pass and you will not. I have seen your deeds, kinslayer. Your heart is weak, your mind is clouded and your hands are stained. Go back from where you came, or this will be the death of you.''

The prince grinned. ''You must be a farseer then, if you can see my past without ever having met me.'' Though he spoke cordially, inside he raged at the accusations and insults of the farseer.  ''The last one then, I would wager, for we exterminated your kind in the lands below, but surely you would know that. Did you see their cries as their temples burned? Their wretched tears as their masters were hunted down? Their pleas for mercy as we slaughtered them? I remember when I sacked the Great Temple of Carmessus. We killed all the men in the temple, we took the women as slaves and threw the children off the roof. Did you see that, farseer?'' he asked, his voice growing eversofter, with a devillish delight in his eyes, taunting her.

The woman had a painful look on her face.

''I saw it. But I too saw your downfall. I've seen you kill your brothers, I've seen you be cast out by your brethren, I've seen you be hunted, fight and fight and be defeated and be defeated time after time again. You are hated among men and surely too among the gods, and no matter how much power you amass, in the end it will end the same way.'' she retorted, before returning to her unflappable state from before.

''However, do not mistake my intentions, prince. I am not acting out of malice, though I have seen it all, as you described. You will not pass though. I await the coming of the Silver King, who will bring forth the Heroic Age. Only he may pass and will pass, according to the masters.'' she said.

''The same ones that are now dead? You have much faith if you believe them still. Perhaps I am the Silver King, no?'' he said.

''Your heart is weak, your mind is clouded and your hands are stained.'' she simply replied, answering his question.

''No matter.'' the prince replied as he drew his sword.

The two fought on the roof of the world with great fury and in the end, the last of the farseers died. The prince looked at her corpse with pity, before he marched onwards, to the great prize and the glorious future.

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Here's what I came up with in a short notice. Hope you'll like it.

It was a cold night, perfect for some ale by the fire in a Tavern full of banter and music. Instead, the proud Sunfall Guardians would watch over the Wall of their City, the only sound they could hear being War Drums, closing and closing in, slowly. Indeed, they were getting closer, the beasts...armed to the teeth, running towards what seemed like a mountain, not even staying in formation. In front of the guards stood Merl Sunfall himself, but even a Sunfall doubted if their Wall would hold against such brute force...nevertheless, he turned towards his soldiers. He looked at them, then began to walk back and forth.
" I believe there's no need for a big speech" He'd start, almost mumbling." I've never been good with those, as some of you that fought with me before may know.  But I also believe I have to say this." He'd pause, look at his soldiers again, soldiers that he has fought with dozens of times, men that he knew well, and men that knew him well."  Men, proud defenders of the Sunfall House! The day is finally here, just like the beasts are at our gates! We have prepared for whatever they shall throw at us, and trust me, this wall shall stand and see the light of tommorow!" A short speech, if you can even call it a speech, but it had it's effect. The soldiers cheered loudly, and prepared to face death itself.

Finally, the two armies were staying face to face. On one side, Humanity's first line of defense and on the other side, Humanity's Peril. The Brutes didn't wait. What seemed like one of their leader signaled them to charge, not that he needed to, as the beasts were already charging towards the walls. On the other side, the Sunfall Guards were waiting in their Shield Formation, while the Bowmen, Crossbowmen and whatever Magisters were left stood on the wall, ready to reign hell upon the beasts.

So, the two armies clashed. Initially, the Sunfall had a clear advantage, they had actual tactics afterall. The Combination of Arrows, some Magic and the plethora of Shields couldn't be defeated by some dumb beasts. That didn't last long, however. The leader from before blew into a horn, and ordered his troops to retreat. Some didn't care for the horn and decided that they could kill the Sunfall alone, and of course, they failed. There was nothing to be heard for a while, until the Chieftain began to mumble something. Meanwhile, the Sunfall were holding their ground, not moving an inch. Suddenly, the pitch black sky turned emerald green. It looked like....rain? No..the guards began to scream, even though they weren't hit at all by the creatures. The Realisation came to Merl, the rain was a special incantation that was probably created by their Chieftain. It was too late, however, the beasts began their charge again, and decimated the distracted soldiers. 

"Back! Fall back! Everyone! BACK!" Merl shouted, panicked. The remaining defense force  retreated into the Bastion. Thankfully, the civilians had enough time to evacuate the town. Now, the only thing that Merl and his soldiers had to do was buy time, in a classic Last Stand.
Of course, they could run away, but they would be remembered as the "Ones who Ran" forever. So, what remained of the forces regrouped, raised their shields, and waited to face the inevitable.

Before them, stood the Chieftain himself. He'd look at the soldiers and Merl for a while. "Kill them all, but leave one of them with a few breaths." He'd order his subjects. Indeed, the beasts ran rampart through whatever was left of the Sunfall force, and they left Merl alive, with a few breaths left to live, just as ordered. 
The Chieftain approached him, and told him in a playful voice. "Oh no, I'm not done with you yet, Sunfall. You're going to be my special messanger."

Then, he began mumbling ancient words, and slowly, Merl rose again.


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The Scouring of the Scourge 
The biting winter wind tore across the open tundra, snow billowing in vast droves that whipped around like the howls of a wounded beast. Shadows and phantasms formed in the drifting clouds that shifted from images that resembled bears and dragons, knights and spires that flickered through their images as they drifted on the open air. Drifts of snow stood as resolute as fortress against the storm as they weathered its endless hissing through the empty air. The storm never truly ended, the snow fell in constant withering droves even as it travelled across the vastness of the barren and empty lands, it was no small wonder then that it covered everything in sight, rock and ice became as one underfoot, the few bare and empty trees often stood covered deep at their bases against the freezing winds which served to protect them from being simply blown over at the heaviest of breezes.
This storm went entirely unmarked, no living soul would care to note it for it was as common as any other that tore at this lifeless land. The chill that marked it was as persistent and ever baring as the sun was, on the few slim and fortunate days that it elected to show its face if only for a few moments between the veiled ceiling of the bleak and burnished clouds so very far ahead and yet all around them. And yet, despite that none would live to record this storm and no living soul would even dream to stand out in this midst of the bleak and endless drifting snow and winds, few things could live for long in such a barrage and fewer things still would drive any being out into the cold of their own free will.
And yet a figure did stand in the open winds, enduring the cold and braving the winds even as it tore through the locks of hair, once a proud brown as rich and warm as the bark of a great oak tree now simply bleached white of all colour just as the snow that tussled it and spun it around on the open wind. A cloak of black cloth embossed with silver finery fluttered wildly about on the wind as it tailed behind him, catching in every gust of the billowing winds. His black armour seemed to absorb all light as he strode across the tundra fields. His armoured boots left deep gouges in the frostfall as he walked, kicking up gentle mounds of snow without even noticing it. The icy wind stabbed icicles of cold into his bare face, striking at him with merciless glee but if he felt it he showed no sign. There was no shiver in his step, no stiffening of skin that trapped his face from moving, no response did he give to the pain any normal man would have felt for the empty hours of wondering in the blistering cold, cold so great that any moisture would turn to ice in but a moment.
And indeed, perhaps it was better for the fact that he didn't feel the cold. No part of him felt the pain that would be stinging a man to his core, nor did he feel the chill that should have stopped his blood in their veins as he traversed the open wastes with nothing but his own thoughts for company. His skin was pale, as though he had not known the touch of the sun for decades, his lips were blue though not from the cold around him, his skin was as icy to the touch as the snow upon which he walked and yet all of that was as normal to him as breathing. The cold around him did not bother him in the slightest, nor the snow that breathed heavily into his face that willed him to be blinded by the whirling mass of ice and snow. To him these were as constant companions as the runed sword that sat on his hip, the only true warmth he felt came from its presence.
His journey through the empty desolation continued unabated and unchallenged for mile after empty mile, nothing but endless reeves of snow and ice blasting across the formless land to fill his path. It was no small wonder there was nought to challenge his passing, any living creature had long since fled from the open air, choosing instead to cower at the base of cliffs or deep within the depths of the earth for fear of the endless storm. As for whatever eyes may be watching his presence through the darkness of the empty white, well for those he did not care what they saw of him, they could do little to harm him in his armour of black metal and indeed they would have little cause or desire to in the first place.
As the miles bled away beneath him and the dusk of the endless storm finally broke from constant howling winds to something resembling calm, the snow blew less fiercely and he could see further than the reach of his arm at least. And as he strode ever onwards a mass began to coalesce in a figure, hunched and broken like an old man against chilling bite of the wind. As he approached he saw the creature was a skeletal beast, once a mortal man though no longer did the shroud of life hang over the hideous beast. The wizened husk of the creature lurched forwards on bony legs, shaking under their own weight as in stumbled forwards in the drifts of snow. Frozen flesh hung in thin rags across its frame that had long since stiffened in the freeze.  Broken and jagged teeth gnashed emptily against their shattered forms, sinew hanging from between their blackened stumps from prey long since destroyed and from their hands jutted broken fingers that had snapped and sharpened from misuse and damage and transformed into a set of rending claws.
  And yet, despite this grim and terrible visage which would cause any sane man to fall back in dread or else feel a deepening sense of unease at the sight of the ghastly ghoul as it lurched forwards on shattered limbs, the man felt nothing towards the creature. Even when the mangled beast stalked forwards to sniff at his passing with a nose that had long since melted away from rot as though it were some great and gruesome bloodhound. He paid it no heed as he strode past in long and meaningful strides, leaving the shuddering creature behind in his wake. Nor did he flinch when another of the ghouls lurched out of the whipping snow beside him, the creature was  simply walking where it pleased and did nothing to impede his passage. He cared nothing for these creatures though, all they served to tell him was that finally after countless hours and miles of walking he had finally located his quarry.
The figure loomed out of the snow before him as he approached. It was skeletal as the ghouls had been before him, but this being was something different, something elegant to their bestial nature. No skin still clung frozen to the web of bones and no trace of life still remained in those orbs of blue light that shone from its empty skull. The skeletal creature floated a few feet off of the ground, avoiding the chill of the snow beneath it even as the wind swirled around it, almost daring not to touch the fell creature. Long reams of Valium hung from bony arms inlaid with runes of an unknown language and origin pulsated with a blue light. It was a strange thing to the man as he approached, had it been but thirty years ago the two would have been mortal foes, even yet ten years prior would have seen them ready to destroy one another and yet here they stood at the roof of the world itself, serving the same master.
"Artruis" He called against the wind, despite the chill on his lips and his frozen throat his voice carried clear against the soft moaning and wailing of the winter breeze. The tall, floating creature turned slowly and with a great sense of purpose to look at the man who had dared to utter his name let alone in his presence. These creatures were all the same, no matter their origin, high on pomp and arrogance that seemed to bleed from just as much as the chilling cold did. This particular beast was one of a very particular order, it prized itself on whom it had been in a mortal life, an orc warlock of apparently some skill. The man didn't care who the lich had once been, it had evidently not been powerful enough to prevent what it had eventually become.


"Baron Morte." A vile and rasping voice emanated from somewhere deep inside the floating lich. It was hard to say from where exactly this ghastly tongue originated, there was after all no throat to carry it nor a mouth to speak it, instead the lich seemed to simply open its jaw and a mixture of noise and blue frost crawled between its elongated fangs that it called teeth, no doubt the last reminder of its old heritage. "You finally arrive."
"It is a long journey lich from the masters throne to the edge of his realm."
"And has your steed failed to answer your summons, death knight?" He felt little more than a well of disdain for the creature that had been forced to serve as his steed, not for its presence nor for its use. He cared little that the spectral horse was born of shadow and blue flame but rather he was it as a redundancy, true it could move swifter than he could on foot but what did he need of it? He felt no pain, no drain on stamina, no weakness of the flesh. If he wished to go somewhere he could simply run there and still be there before any mortal foe.
Morte chose not to answer the question however, simply glaring at the lich as it drifted above him. It was no small secret that the first liches and the second death knights had a great deal of animosity between them, some believed it was because of their wars long forgotten. Most of the original liches were orc, not man and a great deal still held onto a good portion of their free will, enough to retain a disdain for humanity. Some, Morte included, believed that the beings were granted too much free will from their great master, it was evident enough considering the sheer number of the necromantic creatures that broke away at the first chance they could whilst the death knights remained loyal. Ever loyal and ever the true champions of his will, just as their master before them, they were his blade, they were the grim sword of the Lich King made flesh.
"I trust there was a reason I was sent to meet you in this desolate place, lich." Morte spat back at the skeletal creature, it was not uncommon for those more free willed beings to look down on each others ranks and use them as a personal insult. The liches seemed to have a natural state of hubris that drew the ire of many, even those that had once been mortal man looked down on all others, believing themselves to be the supreme beings and less the servants of a greater master that they truly were. Instead of answering directly the lich simply turned around and began to drift away through the swirling snow, indicating that he was to follow to where it was he was supposedly being led. It had been a mystery that hung over him his entire journey south, yet he did not question it, all would be revealed in due time, it was not his position to demand answers it was simply his place to obey his masters command.
As he once more strode forwards through the blistering snow he was almost surprised when the swirling white clouds simply stopped buffeting him, though it was no for a lack of wind. Now the strong smell of salt air assaulted his nostrils as he looked out across an open bay from where he stood atop a frozen cliff, the lich floating just a few paces away from the edge. It was no small wonder the snow did not blow when there was no snow to be blown into his face any more, all that stood before him was the open sea and a battered shore far below, large shattered icebergs had rammed themselves along the coastline that was pocketed with the remains of ships that had been torn apart by the freezing seas. Ghouls and other malformed beings prowled the coast, picking through the wreckages for survivors or anything that might please their necromancer masters. And far away in the distance, gradually approaching was a sight he had truly not expected to be seeing.
A flotilla of ships, all which he felt he recognised from a past life were heading directly towards them. From the short, squat and armoured power steamers of the dwarves and gnomes with their flying machines flocking around them like flies over a bloated corpse, to the great and proud ships of the human nation. There were many to be noted, from the many sails and teeming ships of Kul'Tiras to the short and heavily armed gunboats of Gilneas all the way to the fat and heavy warships of Stormwind with their heavy prows adorned with roaring lions heads and vast ice breakers. And for all these different races and indeed nations one symbol flew on every vessel, the gold and blue of the Alliance, that stylised symbol that meant freedom and prosperity, security and faith to so many across the entirety of Azeroth should have inspired a feeling of remorse or guilt over his actions. And yet, it didn't. When he looked at the symbol he had once proudly looked up to he felt.... Nothing.
"They finally arrive then." Came the guttural voice from the lich beside him as they stood together, watching out across the broken bay at the approaching fleet. Neither of them looked at each other as they stared out at the oncoming invaders with a sense of contempt.
 "Are you surprised lich? We have been invading their lands. It was only a matter of time until they retaliated."
"Their lands? Are you so certain it is indeed theirs and not ours you meant to say?" Baron Morte turned to face the lich, his face not betraying the anger he felt within as a hand rested on his runeblade Shattersong, it was a potent weapon even against a being such as Artruis.
"Are you questioning my loyalty? I renounced my ties to the weak of the world, I serve only the Lich King now." The floating creature seemed not to notice the danger at its side, though doubtless had it still had flesh to wrap around its frail form it would be smiling a thin and smug smile at its ability to raise the death knights ire.
"Loyalty? No, only your competence. Your delay in arrival may very prove detrimental to your defence of this coast."
The death knight paused as the lich began to turn away, blue light flicking between his cracked fingers indicating that he was starting to cast a spell, most likely of teleportation.
"My defence? Do you not intend to stay and greet these invaders lich?" Even as he spoke he could feel the self assured arrogance of the lich silently mocking him as the creature didn't even bother to turn to look at him.
"No, the master has other plans for me. I am perfectly sure you will be capable of providing a fitting greeting to these outsiders in one fashion or another." And with that a flash and hum of magic swathed over the skeleton creature, whisking him away to some other unknown part of the world, leaving the black armoured death knight alone atop the cliff face.
Baron Morte looked back over the bay, down towards where the gathering host of undead slowly grew in number as they filtered in from parts unknown. His eyes drifted back up to where the oncoming ships were still coming in like an inexorable tide, watching as a flight of stony gargoyles detached themselves from further down the ice covered cliff and sped low across the water, narrowly avoiding the vicious waves as they sought to destroy the interlopers. No doubt the fly machines would have their time full trying to deflect the gargoyles as more and more of them came in.
As he looked out across the interlopers he felt no remorse, no guilt for his actions. He was a death knight of the Scourge, he would serve where his master commanded and his master commanded this beach would not hold. For ten long years he served as his master slumbered, now once more the hour of doom had fallen upon the world. With nary a word he turned from the cliff to descend to the beach itself, he would defend it to the last if it came down to it. He was loyal, he was the blade of the Lich King and yet it felt like a life time that he had served and indeed to some it was more than a lifetime. And yet he served as was his station, let the Alliance come, let the Horde come, let every being on Azeroth come, they would fall one by one and rise again, it was inevitable.
Just as it had been inevitable to have defied the Scourge ten years ago. 

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Well, I had this done for two days. Better post it now before I forget.


Hunter opened his eyes, finding himself back in his bed in his bedroom. Rubbing his eyes, he took around, seeing the midday sun creek in a closed window. There was little furniture in the room asides from two old beds placed not too far from each other against the backwall. Thee wooden walls, floor and door were old and worn from wear. Hunter knew that his family was poor compared to other families, who had much better living accommodations in their house. Mother had no job and Father, despite working for Baron Cromwell, received little coin for his work as a scribe.

Sitting up on his bed, Hunter turned his head to face the other bed, letting out a sigh of relief that his younger brother, Jaiden, was here and sleeping. He was small for his age but was due for a growth spurt much like his brother. Like Hunter, Jaiden had short brown hair and fair skin but had hazel eyes compared to his brother’s blue eyes. Due to his size, the younger brother was picked on by the other children, who were led by Roland, the son of Callisian’s blacksmith. Hunter always stood up to defend his family, and normally, Roland backed down. That changed earlier today.

The memories of the incident came back to Hunter. Roland pushed him. He pushed back. Roland threw a punch that landed against his cheek, which was now slightly bruised. Two other boys joined in the fight, aiding Roland in beating down his rival. All Hunter could do was curl up on the ground, endure the blows, and hope for help to arrive. Jaiden, anger in his voice, yelled out for them to stop. Then, there was a loud boom and he blacked out. He was not sure what had happened but knew it was not going to end well for him or Jaiden.

Hearing muffled voices behind the door, Hunter slowly stood up from his bed and tiptoed towards the door. He recognized a few of the voices but could not make out any words. Stopping in surprise, he realized that one of the three main voices asides from his parents was Baron Cromwell, the noble who led the town of Callisian. Hunter only heard him during speeches and remembered hearing his parents talk about how he never really cared for the common folk. To some, having him as a guest would be a honor. However, he had a feeling that would not be the case today. Taking a few steps forward, he arrived at the door and knelt down, putting his ear up against the wooden surface.

“-allow it.” Mother said, anger in her voice. “He’s just a child!”

“Your child nearly murdered another boy, and even if we didn’t find you taking him away from the scene, we have two witnesses who saw what happened,” Cromwell spoke, somewhat frustrated. “Have some sense. He’s dangerous and needs to be taken away for the safety of himself and Callisian!”

“Mildred, perhaps we should do what the Baron wants,” Father meekly suggested.

“Why? So you can keep your job over your own family?” Mother’s voice rose. “You’re a damned coward, Colson!”

“He’s a smart man, actually,” Cromwell argued. “He knows it’s futile to argue with a man who can give an order and have you hung from a noose tomorrow morning.”

“I am guilty of no crime other than protecting my children,” Mother sighed. “Master Altham, can’t you speak some sense into this fool!”

Master Altham was a highly respected man in Callisian. He was one of the few, if not the only, sorcerer who made his home in a tower not too far of a walk from here. Normally, he focused on studying, not leaving his home for days. Yet, when he was in town, he entertained the townsfolk with simple spells. He listened to their pleas of help, and regardless of how big or small the task was, he set out to solve it. Unlike Baron Cromwell, he actually cared for the people.

“I have tried everything, I have even offered to train your child myself, but a higher power has spoken,” Master Altham spoke gently with Hunter barely able to make out his words. “As of three days ago, the New Sorcerer’s Decree became law, signed by the King and the First Sorcerer. Any children capable of wielding magic are to be taken to the capital immediately. I know not why such a law is in place but my hands are tied, I’m afraid. Miss Sherwood, for your safety and your children’s safety, I ask that you step aside.”

A brief silence followed as Hunter took a few steps away from the door, fear starting to take him over. If there was one person he could always trust, who always stood by him, it was Jaiden, and now, they were about to be separated because of that stupid law. As quickly at it came, Hunter’s fear turned into rage. He was determined to stay with his brother, no matter what. It was his role as the older brother to protect him and that is exactly what he intended to do. He turned his head over his shoulder, seeing that Jaiden was awake, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Ugh, my head,” Jaiden groaned. “Hunter, what happened.”

“Jaiden, climb out the window now,” Hunter ordered quietly. “I’m going to be right behind you.”

The door burst open as the guards stormed into the room. They all stood taller than the two boys with Hunter barely reaching up to their chest. They wore basic steel armor that covered their bodies from head to toe. To the two young boys, they were very intimidating. Thankfully, they have not pulled out either their maces or shield yet. Of course, seeing that they were big enough, they did not need them to overpower the two children.

Hunter immediately threw himself at the first soldier, wrapping his arms around his waist in an attempted tackle. The guard remained standing as the child struggled to push him away and proceeded to throw him towards a wall. He collided against the wood with a thud, groaning in pain as he turned to face the guards again, who were proceeding towards a frighten Jaiden. Hunter folded his hands into fists, willing to do whatever it took to protect his brother. Shouting, he charged the lead guard again, throwing a fist right into his side.

Trying to punch metal armor was a big mistake on Hunter’s part, the blow doing more harm to him than the soldier, who did not flinch at the attack. The child yelped, holding his hand in pain, his knuckles red. Still, he fought on, pushing against the armored man to try to knock him off balance. In response, the guard proceeded to slap the child across the face with his gauntlet. Hunter collapsed onto the ground, vision blurred as tears welled in his eyes. He felt his injured cheek, a red handprint already leaving its mark.

“That’ll teach you to stay out of our way,” the guard warned, confident after assaulting a child. “We’re not here for your brother, not you.”

“You hurted Hunter,” Jaiden muttered under his breath.

“Well, he was gettin’ in our way,” the guard defended himself. “‘I’d do it again if he keeps at it.”

“You hurted Hunter!” Jaiden now yelled out.

Turning towards his brother, Hunter rubbed his eyes to clear up his vision. Jaiden now stood on top of his bed, holding fists to his side. Much to the older brother’s surprise, his eyes were glowing bright purple and minor lightning sparkled by his hands. The lead guard took a step forward, somewhat cautious now that the child was starting to use his powers. A small blast of lightning was blasted at him, the man jumping away and a black stain marking the spot he stood at. He ran out of the room, the other guards holding their ground and pulling out their maces.

Master Altham entered the room, eyeing the scene before him. He was an older man with short black hair that was turning grey with age. He was slim and wore simple purple robes marking him as a sorcerer. While the guards and Hunter were both amazed and afraid at Jaiden’s outburst of magic, the sorcerer remained calm, his grey eyes studying the boy. Slowly, he stepped forward, the magical child now turning his attention to him as he stood in front of the guards.

Another burst of lightning was sent directly towards Altham’s chest. The sorcerer remained still as the attack was stopped in front of him, a white outline forming a sphere around him. After the lightning cleared away, Altham held out his hand, a small grey orb forming in his hands. Without hesitating, he launched it towards the boy, who was powerless to defend himself from the attack. The glow faded away from Jaiden’s eyes as he slumped forward, collapsing onto the ground. Hunter crawled quickly over to him, sighing in relief that he was just knocked out.

“I am sorry,” Altham apologized, sadly looking upon Hunter and Jaiden. “I truly am.”

Altham stepped to the side as the guards stormed forward, heading right for the two boys. Hunter charged at them only to be grabbed by two soldiers who held the boy back. Their comrades grabbed the unconscious Jaiden and carried him out of the room and away from the house. The two remaining soldiers threw Hunter against the ground and quickly went about to join their comrades. Altham took one final look at him, sighing, then left the room. The child recovered and quickly pursued the soldiers, not ready to give up just yet.

Running out of his bedroom, he was stopped by his mother, who fell onto her knees and grabbed Hunter in a tight hug. She whispered into his ear, telling him that her heart could not handle losing another child today. Still, he struggled, seeing Jaiden being loaded onto a wooden prison cart by looking out another window. He screamed out his brother’s name over and over but was unable to do anything as the horses dragged the cart away, separating the two brothers from each other.

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This event has ended, Malygos has won by majority vote of the panel of judges. Honorable mention is LeClaw in the details he provided in his story. 

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