Reaper
05-11-2010, 11:02 AM
The winner of the 10 Plainum contest is:
Richard (Lord Raid)!
Here is his contest winning story:
The “HEROs’” Introduction
The wind howled, as if a massive creature within the eye of the tornado had set its sights upon destroying the very existence of the sole figure that stood between it and its prize. The air hrrmmed around him as he chanted:
“To arms, my magic, calm the beast that conceals itself within. I call upon the protective arts…”
He flicked his wrists once, his dextrous fingers manipulating magical forces unseen by his fellow crewmen.
“MAGIC SHIELD!”
He waved his arms frantically, casting spells to attempt to minimize the damage to the ship from the terrible storm. His staff lay forgotten near the base of the ruined crow’s nest, and as one of the warriors of the ship snatched before it fell to the ocean’s grasp, he dashed to the quarter deck, grunting as he did so, trying his best not to slip on the massive torrents of rain that flowed on the deck. He tossed it to the lone magician at the helm, yelling, “Avast, Ro, laddie, get a move on-”
His words were abruptly cut short as a bolt of lightning flashed, aimed towards the area right below his feet. He winced as he saw the lightning hit a shimmering blue wall above the ship, and bellowed out, “A close one, laddie, I thank ye for your devilry!”
The figure that wielded the magical arts simply smirked, nodding his head once briefly before turning his focus back to the defense of the ship. His eyes suddenly widened as the ship bucked once wildly, but that was all the indication he needed to confirm that he had failed at his task.
His companion, who had decided to go between cursing wildly and jabbing his weapon at the sailors that hid beneath the deck, cursing their cowardly natures, ran to the main mast of the ship and lashed himself to it, gesturing to the lone figure to follow suit.
Seeing that any more effort to continue would be futile, the figure sprinted toward a pile of rope, fully intending to secure himself to a part of the boat, when he realized the ship slowly was sinking. Muttering a small spell focused at his vocal cords, he boomed with the assistance of magic, “All crewman, all hands on deck! Grab anything that will help you float! Rendezvous at the opening of the forest!”
The rest of his warnings were drowned as a colossal wave of water crashed on the ship, immediately smashing the vessel to pieces.
—————————The Morning After—————————–
A guard of the forest, grunt guard #43 clanked about in his armor, patrolling the opening that separated the beach and the woods. A large sign above him read “DARHK FOREST – ENTR AT UR OUN RISK!” The author of the sign was clearly illiterate, but then again, so was #43 and his fellow guard, #45.
They lived simply for gold, to collect it, to feel it, to gaze upon it. Such was the meaningless life of the guard of the Dark Forest.
But oh! What was this now? He peered through his visor at a glint of something far down the shore. Wrapped in some sort of cloak, he squinted hard, attempting to stay at his post and identify the source of pretty shiny (the guards apparently were lacking in vocabulary as well as coherent thought processes).
He remarked about having to relieve himself on the shore, and toddled down to the shoreline as the guffaws of his immature fellow guard filled the air.
The diminutive knight approached a bundle, crumpled on the sand of the beach. He drew his standard issue short sword and gingerly poked the robe. Getting no response, and deeming the bundle to have no threat to him, he quickly lifted the robe into his hands and revealed the magician underneath.
The knight yelped in surprise as he gazed upon the figure. He once again unsheathed his sword and poked at the mane of hair atop of the magician’s head. Once again receiving no response, he shrugged his metal clad shoulders, and like the good grunt that he was, hoisted the gem-studded robe and the staff that lay beside the magician on his shoulders and began the long walk back to his post, whistling something that suspiciously sounded like Twinkle Twinkle Little Star off-key.
As he approached his fellow guard, he dumped his newly found spoils on the ground, and they both began to hoot wildly at the success of having found riches at last. Once again another moment that fulfilled their lives. As their momentary celebration continued, he and his fellow became aware of a presence behind them, and did a swift 180, praying to the gods of gold and shiny thingies that whoever was behind the duo wouldn’t be the captain to find them slacking off again; they already had to scrub the castle’s countless toilets with a combination of sea water and dirty used brushes (for all purpose shower use of the guard!) for the past fortnight.
Once again (the guard tended to repeat their actions many times in one day, resulting in the author’s forced repeated use of “once again”s) they yelped as one, scattering the items across the floor of the forest.
“Now now, little ones, you certainly have been misbehaving, haven’t you?”
The two guards, realizing the strength of their new foe, took the only course of action that one with common sense would: they attacked frantically, swiping their swords in front of them as far and fast as they could go. Unfortunately, they were severely lacking in common sense. Feeling something give way beneath their swords, they squealed their approval and opened their eyes, ready to report their victory.
Their eyes gazed upon a furious individual, his shoulders hunched and his back rising and falling madly with his rapid breaths. His fire-red hair flowed wildly down to his neck, and his scrawny frame simply added to the intensity of his anger.
“You! You… you…. cretins!”
Following his furious glare, they each looked to the tip of their blades and found a wet, shimmering lock of red hair. Coming to the same conclusion about their impending doom, they began hooting wildly, this time in fear. They prepared to defend themselves, but their swords were blown back into the shrubbery by an unseen force.
The lone figure, his palms glowing blue with a crest embossed in the middle of each of them, stood with righteous anger as he assailed his foes with punches to their armored heads. The crest, a dark shield with a roaring dragon-like figure in the center, seemed to roar in approval of its master’s actions.
“My… beautiful…. hair! I stood ridiculous amounts of bullying for that! I combed my hair every single morning! Hours on end! Those strands were my best friends!” Here, the soldiers began fearing for his sanity. Their best friends were “shiny thingies” after all. Who had the leisure to comb their hair when all soldiers were required to cut their hair as short as possible?
“Enough. That’s not what my company and I undertook this journey for. And by the gods, I fully intend to avenge all that fell in that storm. Treachery by magic at the hands of this ‘King’, no doubt”. Muttering to himself in an undertone that the soldiers could not quite catch, they continued to tremble in their cheap armored boots, wondering what this new individual would do and whether they should attack or flee.
“Actually, here’s a better idea-” He rolled to the right as a spear burrowed itself into the ground where he just stood. “Gods DAMN it! Storm, lightning, idiotic cretins, they’re all the same! Can’t I at least FINISH my sentences!?” The soldiers caught everything up to the point where he began to say ‘cretin’; they didn’t even know how to don their armor – mommy put their armor on in the mornings, how were they to know what this “kree-ten” was?
“Right, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, you’re going to repay me for the loss of my hair with a favor”. Brushing the dust from his robes with an outstretched palm, he pointed at the cowering duo. Before he could complete his sentence, they pounced upon him, with the full intention to kill.
“Gods damn, I could never remember that these grunts were imbued with the accursed blood lust by their masters whenever they felt their lives were about to end”. It was precisely this trait that made these grunt guards so useful; one simple underestimation of these seemingly cowardly fools ended with a sword through the back.
The figure attempted to call upon his magic within, but failed. “Haven’t eaten anything in a while, ridiculous. I can’t even cast a fireball!” He tripped on a solid root on the ground and cursed loudly, and the soldiers moved in for the finish, swords and spears drawn. Before they could finish their task, a large sword slammed between them and their prey.
“Well now laddies, why wasn’t I invited to de parrrty?” The rich accent of the stranger only accentuated the fact that he was a bear, and that this one specimen was larger than both the soldiers combined. Realizing once again they had lost, the soldiers scrambled to escape, and scampered into the sands of the beach.
Read the rest at: www.thappradar.com (http://www.theappradar.com/main/winner-10-platinum-contest/)!
Richard (Lord Raid)!
Here is his contest winning story:
The “HEROs’” Introduction
The wind howled, as if a massive creature within the eye of the tornado had set its sights upon destroying the very existence of the sole figure that stood between it and its prize. The air hrrmmed around him as he chanted:
“To arms, my magic, calm the beast that conceals itself within. I call upon the protective arts…”
He flicked his wrists once, his dextrous fingers manipulating magical forces unseen by his fellow crewmen.
“MAGIC SHIELD!”
He waved his arms frantically, casting spells to attempt to minimize the damage to the ship from the terrible storm. His staff lay forgotten near the base of the ruined crow’s nest, and as one of the warriors of the ship snatched before it fell to the ocean’s grasp, he dashed to the quarter deck, grunting as he did so, trying his best not to slip on the massive torrents of rain that flowed on the deck. He tossed it to the lone magician at the helm, yelling, “Avast, Ro, laddie, get a move on-”
His words were abruptly cut short as a bolt of lightning flashed, aimed towards the area right below his feet. He winced as he saw the lightning hit a shimmering blue wall above the ship, and bellowed out, “A close one, laddie, I thank ye for your devilry!”
The figure that wielded the magical arts simply smirked, nodding his head once briefly before turning his focus back to the defense of the ship. His eyes suddenly widened as the ship bucked once wildly, but that was all the indication he needed to confirm that he had failed at his task.
His companion, who had decided to go between cursing wildly and jabbing his weapon at the sailors that hid beneath the deck, cursing their cowardly natures, ran to the main mast of the ship and lashed himself to it, gesturing to the lone figure to follow suit.
Seeing that any more effort to continue would be futile, the figure sprinted toward a pile of rope, fully intending to secure himself to a part of the boat, when he realized the ship slowly was sinking. Muttering a small spell focused at his vocal cords, he boomed with the assistance of magic, “All crewman, all hands on deck! Grab anything that will help you float! Rendezvous at the opening of the forest!”
The rest of his warnings were drowned as a colossal wave of water crashed on the ship, immediately smashing the vessel to pieces.
—————————The Morning After—————————–
A guard of the forest, grunt guard #43 clanked about in his armor, patrolling the opening that separated the beach and the woods. A large sign above him read “DARHK FOREST – ENTR AT UR OUN RISK!” The author of the sign was clearly illiterate, but then again, so was #43 and his fellow guard, #45.
They lived simply for gold, to collect it, to feel it, to gaze upon it. Such was the meaningless life of the guard of the Dark Forest.
But oh! What was this now? He peered through his visor at a glint of something far down the shore. Wrapped in some sort of cloak, he squinted hard, attempting to stay at his post and identify the source of pretty shiny (the guards apparently were lacking in vocabulary as well as coherent thought processes).
He remarked about having to relieve himself on the shore, and toddled down to the shoreline as the guffaws of his immature fellow guard filled the air.
The diminutive knight approached a bundle, crumpled on the sand of the beach. He drew his standard issue short sword and gingerly poked the robe. Getting no response, and deeming the bundle to have no threat to him, he quickly lifted the robe into his hands and revealed the magician underneath.
The knight yelped in surprise as he gazed upon the figure. He once again unsheathed his sword and poked at the mane of hair atop of the magician’s head. Once again receiving no response, he shrugged his metal clad shoulders, and like the good grunt that he was, hoisted the gem-studded robe and the staff that lay beside the magician on his shoulders and began the long walk back to his post, whistling something that suspiciously sounded like Twinkle Twinkle Little Star off-key.
As he approached his fellow guard, he dumped his newly found spoils on the ground, and they both began to hoot wildly at the success of having found riches at last. Once again another moment that fulfilled their lives. As their momentary celebration continued, he and his fellow became aware of a presence behind them, and did a swift 180, praying to the gods of gold and shiny thingies that whoever was behind the duo wouldn’t be the captain to find them slacking off again; they already had to scrub the castle’s countless toilets with a combination of sea water and dirty used brushes (for all purpose shower use of the guard!) for the past fortnight.
Once again (the guard tended to repeat their actions many times in one day, resulting in the author’s forced repeated use of “once again”s) they yelped as one, scattering the items across the floor of the forest.
“Now now, little ones, you certainly have been misbehaving, haven’t you?”
The two guards, realizing the strength of their new foe, took the only course of action that one with common sense would: they attacked frantically, swiping their swords in front of them as far and fast as they could go. Unfortunately, they were severely lacking in common sense. Feeling something give way beneath their swords, they squealed their approval and opened their eyes, ready to report their victory.
Their eyes gazed upon a furious individual, his shoulders hunched and his back rising and falling madly with his rapid breaths. His fire-red hair flowed wildly down to his neck, and his scrawny frame simply added to the intensity of his anger.
“You! You… you…. cretins!”
Following his furious glare, they each looked to the tip of their blades and found a wet, shimmering lock of red hair. Coming to the same conclusion about their impending doom, they began hooting wildly, this time in fear. They prepared to defend themselves, but their swords were blown back into the shrubbery by an unseen force.
The lone figure, his palms glowing blue with a crest embossed in the middle of each of them, stood with righteous anger as he assailed his foes with punches to their armored heads. The crest, a dark shield with a roaring dragon-like figure in the center, seemed to roar in approval of its master’s actions.
“My… beautiful…. hair! I stood ridiculous amounts of bullying for that! I combed my hair every single morning! Hours on end! Those strands were my best friends!” Here, the soldiers began fearing for his sanity. Their best friends were “shiny thingies” after all. Who had the leisure to comb their hair when all soldiers were required to cut their hair as short as possible?
“Enough. That’s not what my company and I undertook this journey for. And by the gods, I fully intend to avenge all that fell in that storm. Treachery by magic at the hands of this ‘King’, no doubt”. Muttering to himself in an undertone that the soldiers could not quite catch, they continued to tremble in their cheap armored boots, wondering what this new individual would do and whether they should attack or flee.
“Actually, here’s a better idea-” He rolled to the right as a spear burrowed itself into the ground where he just stood. “Gods DAMN it! Storm, lightning, idiotic cretins, they’re all the same! Can’t I at least FINISH my sentences!?” The soldiers caught everything up to the point where he began to say ‘cretin’; they didn’t even know how to don their armor – mommy put their armor on in the mornings, how were they to know what this “kree-ten” was?
“Right, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, you’re going to repay me for the loss of my hair with a favor”. Brushing the dust from his robes with an outstretched palm, he pointed at the cowering duo. Before he could complete his sentence, they pounced upon him, with the full intention to kill.
“Gods damn, I could never remember that these grunts were imbued with the accursed blood lust by their masters whenever they felt their lives were about to end”. It was precisely this trait that made these grunt guards so useful; one simple underestimation of these seemingly cowardly fools ended with a sword through the back.
The figure attempted to call upon his magic within, but failed. “Haven’t eaten anything in a while, ridiculous. I can’t even cast a fireball!” He tripped on a solid root on the ground and cursed loudly, and the soldiers moved in for the finish, swords and spears drawn. Before they could finish their task, a large sword slammed between them and their prey.
“Well now laddies, why wasn’t I invited to de parrrty?” The rich accent of the stranger only accentuated the fact that he was a bear, and that this one specimen was larger than both the soldiers combined. Realizing once again they had lost, the soldiers scrambled to escape, and scampered into the sands of the beach.
Read the rest at: www.thappradar.com (http://www.theappradar.com/main/winner-10-platinum-contest/)!