Hello everyone,
we have reached the final stage of the Vip contest and sofar we have seen some really amazing stuff.
We wouldlike to thank you all for being awesome.
Ohanko,
Leksur,
Adirastc
Lutorin
Fancy
Elexiel
NoobieDoo
For this Stage as you know we are looking for a Story about your Character during the Frail Age, a little introduction to your character and an eventful engagement.
For this stage you have until the 4th of August 11:59pm PST
Simple Rules for this final stage:
1. Maximum of 9 Pages
2. Single spacing
3. Please provide us a link to your story here
-. Have fun!
Won't be able to participate in this round guys :( Life got a little busy for me, so a story was a bit out of reach for me. I had lots of fun and really enjoyed seeing everyones creations!
Thank you VIP's for being so kind and thinking of something as neat as this for our community.
Best of luck to the rest of you <3
Il était inévitable que ce dilemme surgisse . D'un côté je pouvais écrire l'histoire en français ce qui avait l'avantage d'utiliser ma langue et ainsi d'être le seul lauréat francophone du concours mais l'inconvénient que (presque) personne ne l'aurait compris . A part peut-être quelques uns de nos cousins canadiens que je salue au passage .
On the other hand I could write it in english what had an advantage that (almost) everybody would understand but a disadvantage to use a language which I don't master as well . After some reflexion I decided to do it in english after all . So here is the story about a young Dwarf Dorthori Shiningstone
DALAN - ADÛR
Dorthori Shiningstone was a young ordinary Dwarf, hardly 70 years old. He kept his ringmail underwear always clean and his beard was his pride.
Dwarves are specialists in the matter of beards but even they would have to admit that Dorthori's was indeed a remarkable, well oiled, carefully combed and intricately braided beard . He lived in Oldassa in the frozen Khadassa reaches where he was learning his trade as precious stone miner.
His parents were precious stone miners as well as their parents before them so that loyal as the Dwarves are, Dorthori entered this trade without asking any philosophical questions .
When he was 20 year old his parents made him join the Guild of Khazas Clerics for this choice was required from every Dwarf upon completion of his or her 20th anniversary .
Truth be told, this choice has been done almost by default .
Dorthori has not shown any special warlike and fighting disposition so that Paladins and Warriors were excluded .
Bards were considered by Dorthori's father as an insult to Dwarwiness because their fashion style lead them to shun a proper ring mail underwear and, to crown it all, they even preferred to wear ... hats which didn't contain any steel reinforcement !
Obviously the shadowy rogues were completely out of the picture for law abiding and God fearing gem miners and merchants such as Dorthori and his parents were .
So cleric it had to be and Dorthori actually came to enjoy the weekly lessons under the guidance of the old Glauri who still remembered the ages when King Avendyr ruled. Dorthori was an interested and serious student and after 30 years he graduated with honors to the grade of a regular Brother of the Khazas order . He received his insignia of Golden Sprinkler and henceforth his duty was to attend the weekly celebrations in the Kazas temple and to be ready to be mobilized in case of war or major emergency .
After the daily work in the shop Shiningstone & Sons he usually spent his time in the Bloody Axe Inn, quaffing ale and singing songs dedicated to gold and diamonds with other Dwarves with equal passion for gold and diamonds what means basically every Dwarf .
This was how he made acquaintance with Hjalvar.
Hjalvar was a human hunter trading in ice wolf silver pelts and was oftentimes seen in Oldassa when he made his way back from the uncharted northern mountains and proposed his pelts on the local market .
A word leading to another, Hjalvar and Dorthori traded tales and emptied many a cask of stout ale.
When Dorthori was about to leave, trying to master his tottering legs, Hjalvar leaned to his ear and whispered : "I have a secret for you my friend, if you would hear it."
The typical Dwarven curiosity awakened, Dorthori immediately replied : "I certainly would, friend !"
"I know of a cave in the far north and it is my reckoning that there could be a diamond vein inside . I am not an expert but I would show you the way if you accept that we share the benefits."
Dorthori's eyes widened with surprise and the little calculating wheels started to whirr in his head : "We have a deal friend ! What would you say about a share 80 for me , 20 for you ?"
As Hjalvar started to frown, Dorthori quickly adjusted : "Errr ... to be fair as a discoverer you certainly deserve a better than a dwarven standard cut ... hmm ... I could offer a 65 - 35. What about that ? Eh ? "
Hjalvar stayed silent for a moment apparently considering the offer and finally said : "I took all the risks so while I acknowledge that I couldn't assess this opportunity alone, a 60 - 40 seems more appropriate ."
Dorthori tried to stop swaying and reached out an unsteady hand : "Accepted friend ! Give me 2 days to prepare our expedition and let us meet then at dawn of the third day by the northern Oldassa gate ."
Both met exactly on the agreed time and after an uneventful although freezing journey which lasted one week, Hjalvar stopped on a ridge and pointed to the north-east : "Here we are Dorthori !"
There on a snowy slope a black cave mouth opened an entrance into the mountain.
Entering the cave, the experienced eyes of a Dwarf miner immediately recognized that this was indeed a diamond vein and a huge one for that matter.
It was when Dorthori started to take some samples from the walls that a screeching sound made itself heard.
Turning around, he saw the most ugly apparition he had ever seen.
Dessicated leather around empty sockets, diamond necklace on a turtle like neck, bony arms stretched towards Dorthori like if the being wanted to embrace him, it hissed and lisped : "Welcome your master to be, worm ! You shall serve me well !"
Dorthori instinctively reached for his axe when he felt a blow on his head and everything went black .
Coming back to his senses he saw Hjalvar shackling his hands, the hideous leathery apparition scowling behind Hjalvar's back .
"Ah well ." said Hjalvar with an unpleasant grin, "You Dwarves are so easy to trick. My lich master needed more slaves. So I promised to bring him many more from your city. Untold riches and powers await me if I please to my master . Tomorrow when the full moon rises, the demons that do my master's bidding will transform you into his slave ."
Upon these words Hjalvar took the shackled Dorthori upon his shoulders, brought him to a dank stony cell where he fixed the shackles to a massive iron ring sealed in the wall and locked the heavy oaken door.
Once the cell door closed, stretching himself upon the stone bed, Dorthori was thinking hard.
Squeezing his carefully oiled beard, he soaked the shackles and his hands with oil so that twisting, pulling and pushing he managed to free first one hand then the other.
Next he worked loose a large stone block from his bed and removed the length of chain from the iron ring . Last he wound the length of chain around the stone block and firmly fixed it .
There are subtle ways and there are stealthy ways.
Dorthori's was the Dwarven way.
Standing in the center of the cell and holding the chain he started spinning faster and faster untill he suddenly released his hold what in turn freed the stone block which made a bee line in the direction of the door dragging the chain and Dorthori after it .
The stone block struck first followed by a dwarven steel helmet.
The door withstood the former but not the latter and crashed into the guard room.
Hjalvar awoken by the exploding door stammered : "Wha .. wha ..." , quickly unsheathed his sword and took a battle stance .
Watching the small dwarven figure with narrowed eyes, Hjalvar who was familiar with Dwarves thought that without their axes they were much less formidable foes .
"Ask for mercy Dorthori . Serving my master will surely be a better fate than being cut down by cold steel here and now ." and he lunged without warning .
Yet while it is true that the Dwarves have an uncanny ability to shorten their foes with an axe at the knee level in order to have a better access to other bits to be dismembered, it would be a tragical mistake to suppose that they depend on an axe to do so .
Hjalvar did that mistake .
Dorthori shouted "No mercy asked for and none given !" and dived below the sword thrust making a large sweeping gesture . The stone block accelerated and the chain hit Hjalvar at the knee level . Of course having found a fixed axis, the chain propelled by the stone wound itself around Hjalvar's legs and brought him crashing down .
Dorthori observed the fallen hunter thoughtfully for a second then kicked him in the head with a sigh .
Now everybody has already heard about Dwarven sturdiness but Dwarven boots are sturdiness honed to perfection and not the least because they are generally reinforced by steel plates .
For this reason the casual kick was enough to send Hjalvar to oblivion .
Dorthori had hardly enough time to unravel the chain from the motionless Hjalvar's body when he heard a hissing , wailing sound behind him .
The alarmed lich appeared in the doorway, sickly green light scintillating in its empty sockets, spread its arms wide and started to intone a keening incantation.
Liches are immortal beings of considerable magical power and experts in devising cunning plans .
However eternity lasts damn longtime so that what started as a boon gradually turns into a curse .
To make a long story short, while young liches still dream of becoming Masters of the Universe what involves razing empires and occasionally burning cities to ashes, old liches become crazy like a rabbit .
They start collecting stamps or trying to convince people that the end is nigh and everybody should repent lest retribution be visited upon their heads .
Admittedly it is an advantage to be a creature of huge magical powers when you need to convince a reluctant human that he should trade you this light blue 2 copper stamp of the rare year 634 Thronefast edition or when you feel like visiting retribution upon unbelievers who keep yelling "Shut up you old crock !" or "Take a bath, you smell !" but it will get you only so far .
Our lich was very old .
So it was absolutely not prepared to deal with 80 kg of an upset, highly magic resistant Dwarf wielding a 50 kg stone block at the end of a length of chain and spinning it madly around him.
It didn't last long before bone splinters started to fly in all directions and the dessicated skin was torn to shreds.
First went the lich's right arm what definitely created a handicap to make the necessary gestures to summon the denizens of the demonic planes .
It had to settle for lower imps which could be called left handedly but the following massive rock strike disabled this option too .
When the lich realized that the most cunning plan was to immediately leave the region of space-time where angry Dwarves were happening, it was too late .
With a mighty grunt Dorthori reversed his grip and sent the rock in a vertical orbit where it struck the lich on the head disintegrating everything situated between the skull and the toes .
The tumult ceased and the silence of the guard room was only disturbed by the faint moaning of Hjalvar whose bleeding body was lying near the wall .
"So." said Dorthori, combed his beard, selected some of the most beautiful diamonds lying in the tatters that constituted formerly a lich and briefly considered redecorating the place with Hjalvar's brains .
However even if Dwarves are easily able to unleash incredible amounts of violence, they are also very pragmatic beings and Dorthori imagined a much better use for the currently disabled Hjalvar .
"Coming to think about it, there have been several unexplained disappearances in Oldassa, Hjalvar ... FRIEND ! What would you think about a friendly chat with the Constable Fori concerning their fate ?"
Hjalvar's groan could have been interpreted that he was thinking many things about the proposal but none of them positive so Dorthori continued .
"I will offer you a deal but don't get your hopes too high . It has nothing to do with the deal we made back in Oldassa . I am henceforward claiming this cave as mine but as the proper papers are yet to be done, I will need a guardian . You . Don't even try to think about escapes or creative shenanigans . There is not a place on Terminus where I wouldn't find you . We have an agreement , have we not ?"
That Hjalvar's nod was weak and hesitating was less due to a lack of enthusiasm than to the loss of blood but it appeared to satisfy Dorthori .
He left a water skin and two salted fish ration packages beside Hjalvar and started the journey home to Oldassa .
Thus it came to be that the Dwarves discovered what is nowadays their largest and most proficient diamond mine that they called Dalan-Adûr what means "Oiled beard" in their language .
And be very sure that Dorthori still oils, combs and braids his magnificent beard which became so famous that many a young Dwarf tried to imitate it .
Without success, of course .
Here’s my story along with a mini book cover that I made for it:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1EnRsTUk982bWEgJ09jRFgWZu4hhNch3cnQAmQsN7ltY/edit?usp=sharing
The limit was 9 pages, single-spaced but I formatted my story to 1.5 spaced to make it easier for people to read. I created a copy of my story here to show that in plain text, my story stayed true to 9 pages :).
When life gives you lemons, trade them for limes and get some taquila! It's late, but here's my story. Read at your own peril ;)