# ceramic d.m. final judgement posted



## alsih2o

any interest in some story writing based on images? 

 i see it working somewhat like iron d.m.TM but having the writers use images as their basis for the story.

 i have some stuff put together, anyone willing to play?


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## arwink

If it requires getting a story written in twenty-four hours, I'd give it a miss.  Anything longer than that and I'm in


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## alsih2o

well, i was thinking 72 hours to work with 3-6 images, if that changes anything for anyone


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## arwink

yep, defiantely in.


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## Sixchan

I'm not much good with short stories (I end up writing too much), but I'll give it a shot, sure!


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## Darkness

I think you should title this contest "Clay DM," for obvious reasons.


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## Mirth

Since I just got knocked out of the Iron DM, I'd be glad to participate in Clay DM


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## alsih2o

alright, those marked in are in, lets get up to 8 folks, hopefully starting tonight.

 rules:

 treat the illustrations as if they were the illustrations for your story

 length- not an issue, but i have the attention span of a mayfly, so a novella will get chucked 

 once it is posted, no editing

 the illu's will be numbered , please indicate by number where they belong in your story.

 72 hours form the post of the illu's for you to post your story. times will be using the timestamp on your posts, no credit for turning anything in early, disqualified for 1 minute or more late (c'mon, you have 72 hours!!)

 an adventure is acceptable, as is a story, but applicability to the d20 3e genre is the rule 

 good luck, count off


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## alsih2o

sixchan, arwink and mirthcard are in...


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## arwink

alsih2o said:
			
		

> * an adventure is acceptable, as is a story, but applicability to the d20 3e genre is the rule *




Does this include modern? 

Edit:  And let me just check to see that I haven't missed a concept here.  We do either a full adventure, or a short fiction peice, yes?


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## alsih2o

if you can do modern and keep my interest, i am all about it 

 also, steampunkish, cthulu-ish, or the like


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## Buttercup

God help me, I think I'd like to throw my hat into the ring for this.  Are you still accepting players, Clay?


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## Wulf Ratbane

What the hell, I will give it a try.

It has been a long time since I have written anything besides my Story Hour, though. I pretty much recall that I... uhh... suck.

(Another vote for Clay DM, by the way!)

Wulf


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## astralpwka

Count me in. *pops knuckles eagerly*


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## Sixchan

That's six then.  Two more!


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## alsih2o

alright, buttercup and wulf ratbane are in there.

 i was just preparing to write a post pointing out then need for female participation (i haven't KNOWN of any, but many genders here are unknown to me) that's 5!

 i will be gin posting ingredients for couples as soon as we have 8 together and i have noticed- i will post as soon as possible, less "starting time" posts here because you have 72 hours, i thik we can all get by with that, yes?


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## alsih2o

alright, atralpwka is in, 2 more folks, then some alterantes might be handy


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## Maldur

Im not much of a writer but do you need more jurylike people?


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## el-remmen

I'll give it a try - but I want to do adventures (in Iron DM style) from the illustrations. ..  is that okay?


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## alsih2o

style is the writers choice there nem, you are more than welcome...just one more needed 

 maldur- i will be doing the "official" judging (coughs to hide smirk) but all the writers will be looking for praise and damnation from any who offer it i assure you 
 (perchance maldur, if we get one other person who is always here we caould have a 3 poster jury!)

 and i am thinking about polling for the finals. so watch for that!


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## Maldur

Ill keep an eye on the thread 

How's the hand?


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## el-remmen

When are we starting?

And will it work like Iron DM (with pairs)?


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## alsih2o

we start when we get an 8th...it will work will be single elimination, head on head, just like iron dm..here is how i have the pairings so far...by sign up order for first rd.


 arwink vs. sixchan

 mirthcard vs. buttercup 

 wulf ratbane vs astralpwka

 then nemmerle vs. whoever shows up with the cojones


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## el-remmen

THANK GOD YOU DID NOT PUT ME AGAINST WULF IN THE FIRST ROUND!


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## Milo Bloom

Not normally being the outside stimulus type I will indeed throw my writing ability into the ring. If nothing else it may help me get out of my current technique of writing a little.


VagabondDM


[edit]
Typing while talking to customers is a bad idea.


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## alsih2o

WE ARE ON....FIRST POSTING OF 4 IMAGES ON ITS WAY!


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## alsih2o

*ARWINK VS SIXCHAN IMAGE 1*

pic 1 of 4 for arwink vs sixchan


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## Wulf Ratbane

nemmerle said:
			
		

> *THANK GOD YOU DID NOT PUT ME AGAINST WULF IN THE FIRST ROUND! *




Oh please. I got nothin'. No craft.

These better be some seriously inspirational pictures. By which, rather uncharacteristically, I don't mean nekkid women.


Wulf


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## alsih2o

pic 2 arwink vs sixchan-


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## Wulf Ratbane

*Quick request!*

Clay, can you put all four images in the same post? 

And also, just out of curiosity, can you tag each image if it is one of your own works?


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## alsih2o

pic 3 of 4 arwink vs sixchan


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## Milo Bloom

Nemmerle I will match which ever style you choose to use. If you write a short story I will do the same. If it is an adventure and i will see what I can come up with.


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## alsih2o

last pic arwink vs. sixchan


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## alsih2o

*Re: Quick request!*



			
				Wulf Ratbane said:
			
		

> *Clay, can you put all four images in the same post?
> 
> And also, just out of curiosity, can you tag each image if it is one of your own works? *




 i am using pics and drawing from various sources...as for 4 images in the same post...hmm, i don't know how, but will work on it.

 72 hours for arwink and sixchan as of the 4th pic posting, good luck


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## Milo Bloom

I am so glad I am not arwink or sixchan right now.. ^_^


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## Sixchan

Ooo...this might be tough.

Back later!


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## alsih2o

might as well move on to the next pairing eh?

 here is the first image for mirthcard vs. buttercup :


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## alsih2o

2 of 4 for mirthcard vs buttercup


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## el-remmen

All you need do is include the URL for the pics between the {IMG} {/IMG} tags - except use "[" brackets instead of the curly ones. . . 

and list them all in the same post. . .   

Don't forget to include the http://


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## alsih2o

3 of 4 mirthcard vs buttercup


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## alsih2o

4 of 4 mithcard vs buttercup


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## Buttercup

Good lord, Clay!  You're one evil dude.


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## Buttercup

And Mirthcard, good luck!  I think we'll both need it.


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## alsih2o

evil aside, still working on rd. 1

wulf ratbane vs. astralpwka 

 pic 1 of 4


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## alsih2o

pic 2 wulf ratbane vs. astralpwka


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## alsih2o

pic 3 wulf ratbane vs astralpwka


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## alsih2o

pic 4 wulf ratbane vs astralpwka


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## alsih2o

o.k. barring anyone begging their way out we are ready to start the final pairing..


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## alsih2o

nemmerle vs milo bloom 

 pic 1


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## alsih2o

pic 2 nemmerle vs milo bloom


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## alsih2o

pic 3 nemmerle vs milo bloom


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## alsih2o

pic 4 of nemmerle vs milo bloom (i was gonna do url's but some of thse have been on my drive forever..)


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## alsih2o

sorry for all the edits, i have been trying to remember to disinclude my sig pic in multiple post threads 

 3 days boys and girls, lets see what you have


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## Maldur

Good luck everyone!


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## Milo Bloom

defeinitely good luck to everyone involved.


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## Mirth

Buttercup said:
			
		

> *And Mirthcard, good luck!  I think we'll both need it. *




I was going to title pic #3 in our round "Pucker Up, Buttercup" but now it just doesn't seem appropriate  Good luck to you too!


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## Sixchan

Well, I've got my flow back, and the story is slipping off my fingers.  I think this one'll be pretty good.


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## alsih2o

i think sixchan is talking smack already!


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## Milo Bloom

Nemmerle, if you're doing an adventure could you please confirm for me. Otherwise I will get started on a story instead.


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## Sixchan

Hey, I think I'm more or less done.  1000 words is enough, right?


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## alsih2o

length is a funny thing, some people can put out pages that fly...other can kill with a few poorly worded paragraphs


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## Sixchan

I left it open for a sequel, but I'm not sure whether to include the sequel as part of this story, or use it as a continuation if I get into round 2...


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## alsih2o

post whenever you are ready sixchan, just remember, you have 72 hours, and no editing once you post!


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## Sixchan

Do the pictures have to match exactly?  Currently, my bit for Picture number 4 has two people fighting, but neither of them are wearing armour.  How important is that?


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## alsih2o

Sixchan said:
			
		

> *Do the pictures have to match exactly?  Currently, my bit for Picture number 4 has two people fighting, but neither of them are wearing armour.  How important is that? *




 sounds like one of those questions a writer would have to deal with, thank goodness i am only a judge 


 mwuhahahaha


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## arwink

Hmm.  I've just discovered a slight hitch.

The next two and a half days involve me going to my parents place for X-mas, and their mac has a long history of not liking Enworld.  There's no way I'm going to be able to post a story in the time limit.

May have to bow out of this one.  Sorry.


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## alsih2o

eek! someone save us! anyone who will have time to fill arwinks shoes?

 avoid the horror of sixchan winning by default, sign up now!


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## NiTessine

Me!


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## Maldur

Well done, NiTessine.

I cant confirm or deny but I can only say that AlsiH2O will probly let you enter.


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## alsih2o

nit! yaya! you are up against sixchan, you have 72 hours to complete your story/adventure from the time the last pic in your set was posted. 

 big hand for nit for bravely stepping in!


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## Sixchan

I just realised the round finishes on Christmas Day.  Well, with that in mind (since I'll forget), here's my entry:

Ferinel was searching high and low through the forest.  She didn’t understand why she had been sent on this ‘mission’. Andreil was always the better Woodswoman, after all.  And for the love of the gods, they could have been a little more specific than “It’s in the forest, Ferrie.”  But at least she had the time now to consider what her life had been like since this all started.  _Certainly not what I’d expected_, she thought to herself.  
Finally, she found what she was looking for.  As she stepped into the clearing, she could see the temple up ahead.  The path there was every bit as majestic as the temple itself.  A long, broad path, trees lining its edges and their branches crossing above it to make a beautiful tunnel of wood. [1] The walk passed uneventfully, and within ten minutes, Ferinel had reached the other side.  She had been warned of the dangers in the temple, and had been given a map showing her round, the fastest way in, the safest way out.  She had memorised the layout, but had no regard for the instructions, since Andreil had clearly made the plan with herself in mind, and Ferinel had none of the skills of the most basic thief.
She closed her eyes and concentrated.  She placed one hand in one of the pockets of her robe, and clutched her hand around a small feather.  The other hand moved in a wide circle while she uttered some arcane whispers. Seconds later, Ferinel was floating at about the level of the second floor.  She sighed happily, 
“I never get tired of this feeling,” she said aloud, dreamily.  There was still work to be done, though.  She concentrated again, and after a few seconds, some gestures and mutterings, a large fireball hit the second floor’s east wall.  She floated through the large hole in the wall, and found herself exactly where she needed to be, in the treasure room.  And sure enough, the item she needed was here too.  [2] Ferinel had no clue why a collector was willing to pay millions of gold for a statue of a simple bull, _but hey_, she thought, _money is money, isn’t it_?  As she slipped the bull into one of her robe’s pockets, she heard the unmistakable clanking of an Iron Golem.
“Shards…” Ferinel ran back to the hole and dived out, landing perfectly and easily on the ground.  She began skimming across the ground, pushing herself with her feet to keep the momentum.  As she got past the tunnel of trees, she worked franticly to conjure a wall to keep out the fast approaching golem.   Soon the tunnel of trees contained an invisible wall, and Ferinel quickly set off again at full speed.

It was well into the next day when Ferinel got back to the closest town, and she decided it was time to get to know the town.  She hadn’t had the opportunity before, and the next caravan to Tenita wouldn’t be leaving for a few days yet.  As she wandered about the marketplace she began to relax.  It was all short-lived though, as she heard a familiar and wholly unwelcome whisper in her ear.
“Hello, Ferinel.  Long time no see.”
Slowly, she turned to face him.  He looked different.  His hair was now white, and he wore a white and red robe instead of the traditional red and black of his faith, but it was he nonetheless. [3]
“Must you continue to be a thorn in my side?  What do you want, Railan?”  Maybe Andreil and Railan went in for these long conversations between mortal enemies, but Ferinel had no time for it.
“What do _I_ want? What do _I_ want?  Since when has what I ever wanted mattered to you are Andreil or any of her friends?  What do I want?  I want to see you dead!”
Ferinel had long ago realised that the defeat of his God had sent the cleric of Xeven quite insane, and his hatred was devoted to Andreil and her friends. It had been Andreil who used him to allow her to rob the Citadel of Helshibahr, Xeven’s greatest temple, and it had been Andreil who had struck the gods down from their immortal thrones and that had led to the deaths of almost all them.  _No matter what any of the group ever says or does, Railan seems to enjoy moaning to us a lot more than he does actually trying to kill us_, mused Ferinel.  Quick as she could, she cast another spell, downing a potion of strength in the casting, and pulling a sword she almost never used from her back.  Railan brought his Mace downward towards her skull, but with her new strength and agility, she parried the blow, and came back with a swinging cut to his left leg, causing a large gaping wound. [4]  She caught the next blow with her arm, and felt the stinging pain as the bone shattered, but managed to catch Railan in the face with the hilt of the sword.  She tried to land a killing blow with her sword while he was dazed, but he recovered in time and deflected it.  The mace struck the sword with tremendous force, forcing it out of Ferinel’s hand.  Railan’s second blow struck her down, and he towered over her, ready to deliver the killing blow.  But Ferinel’s time with Andreil had not been without observations, and Ferinel had planned for every eventuality.  While her enchantment still enhanced her agility, she reached to her side, drew a throwing dagger, and threw it in Railan’s direction.  Railan made as good an effort as he could to block the incoming danger, but rather than hit his weapon, it hit his arm instead.  He dropped his mace, and wailed.  Ferinel reached for both her sword and kicked away Railan’s mace, and pushed herself up, sword in hand.  Railan stood in silence for a second, and then ran as fast as he could.

After receiving healing from the local temple of Thilame (One of the few temples left that worshiped a still living god), Ferinel travelled back to the group’s headquarters in Tenita through a teleport spell, deciding waiting for the caravan would be too dangerous.  She spoke with Andreil as soon as she got back.
“Andreil, he’s back.  AGAIN.  Shards, can’t we do _anything_ 
about him?”


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## Maldur

WOW, thats fast!

Ill comment when I can read bothstories in the pair.

Or maybe Ill just mail my comments to AlSiH2O!


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## Sixchan

Errata: 2nd block, Line 10, word 19 should be "or" instead of "are".

Since I can't edit.


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## alsih2o

1 of 8 posts in, i am assuming noitessine knows better than to read oyur post before posting his 

 waiting on 7 more, any preferences form the players as to posting of the new ingredients? i am thinking xmas morning, that should gve everyone plenty of time


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## Wulf Ratbane

alsih2o said:
			
		

> *any preferences form the players as to posting of the new ingredients? i am thinking xmas morning, that should gve everyone plenty of time  *




As soon as possible. I'll be away on family vacation from the 28th to the 2nd or so, so if I make it to the second round, I'll need to get it out of the way before I head out.


Wulf


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## Wulf Ratbane

And speaking of which:

LINK TO PDF VERSION WITH IMAGES 

Here's the raw text:

Inspector Donne limped in, tired and wet. He removed his wet overcoat and hung it on the rickety wooden stand beside the door. He beat his water-logged hat against his leg to dry it off as best he could, and with some difficulty managed to wrestle it down over the peg as well. Running his fingers through his grey-streaked hair and giving his head a bit of a quick shake of its own, he turned at last to face into the room, eager to address the reason for such a late and unexpected call. The hour had just barely passed where night could reasonably be called the dawn.

“Sit up, now,” growled the burly officer behind the table. Rough hands gave a quick shake to the man seated there. The man had been dozing, face down, and he rose slowly with great effort. A red mark on his forehead hinted that he’d been resting for a few minutes, at least.

Like the officer behind him, the man had rough hands, ill-used through a life of hard labor. His hair was a thick yellow tangle, tied up out of his eyes with a frayed cord. His shirt was a near perfect match to his hair-- a bright and gaudy yellow, though patched in several places and soiled here and there with thick clumps of mud. If he were not a man of Reason, Donne thought, the man might just as well have been a scarecrow, come to life and walked right out of his field. Donne smiled a bit despite himself.

“Aye, now? Eh?” the man said, rising slowly from sleep to coherence. He had a simple country drawl and a simple, innocent way about him. 

“Good morning, Henry,” said Donne.

“Ah, Hank, sir, I keep tellin’ yer.”

“Very well, Hank. I trust you’ve something worthwhile to drag me out of bed this morning-- and you without a bath, even.” Donne sniffed. The metallic smell of stale sweat threatened to overpower the room.

“Well, it’s about that lady, sir, as I reckon yer already guessed,” Hank gave a bit of a wink to the inspector, and Donne smiled back graciously.

“That much, indeed, I confess I had. Very astute. You were saying?”

“Well, sir, I been watchin’ the old manor, like yer asked,” he began.

Indeed he had, Donne thought. A recent string of grisly murders in the area had, over the past several months, led Donne inexorably to the door of the Countess, an expatriate of one or another of those damnably indeterminate eastern European countries. He had Henry to thank for the clues that had led him to the Countess, and though the evidence had not yet mounted to his satisfaction, he had taken the groundskeeper into his confidence, sure that an extra pair of eyes and ears in the Countess’ own house would soon close the case.

“Well,” Hank continued, “It was gettin’ on late last night, threatenin’ to rain, so yer might expect I was a bit surprised to wake up to a light movin’ across the grounds. Always been a light sleeper, I have, and blessed grateful for an overcast night to hide that moon.” Hank paused for a moment to make sure Inspector Donne was following along all right. Donne nodded for him to continue.

“Well, I jumped to as quick as I could. This weren’t no flickerin’ torchlight, more like that ‘lectric lantern yer got, whatcha call it?”

“A Ruhmkorff coil?”

“Aye, just so, that’s the one. Just like that.”

“Curious,” Donne said, frowning. “I don’t suppose it’s out of the question, an old manor house like that. The Countess is a woman of some education, after all, or so they say.”

“Well, sir, the odd part was, the light stopped on the hill just outside the manor, so I figured to head out and take a look.

“Forgive me, I wasn’t about to head out unarmed. I got my suspicions, sir, as I told yer before. Now, I know yer laugh,” Henry said, “but it was them old knockers what set me off. Sometimes, us simple folk, we just know, right? I’d been thinkin’ about it for a while now.”

“Would you like a seat, Inspector?” asked the officer. 

Donne realized suddenly that he had been pacing back and forth. He waved his hand. “Helps me think. Please, go on.”

“Well, as yer know, the Countess weren’t too keen on rifles since she got there. But I still have my old bow, right, so I scooped it up and headed out. ‘Sides,” Hank whispered, “I figured if there was trouble, last thing I needed was a gunshot bringin’ them grim bodyguards o’ hers runnin’. Don’t like the look o’ them for’ners.”

“A wise precaution,” Donne admitted. 

“Well sir, I crept up near as I dared. There was some kind o’ sally port there at the base o’ the manor, right there in my little green hillocks. All this time an’ I never saw it... Truth be told with the light so bright I still couldn’t see much, but I saw the lady, sir, come skulkin’ and creepin’ up to the manor house.”

“_To_ the manor?” the officer asked.

Hank turned to the officer. “Aye, from the outside. An’ it were clear to me she were meetin’ someone there, someone skulkin’ up in there with the light behind ‘em.

“And sir,” he said, turning back to Donne, “This weren’t no friendly meetin’. I heard ‘em sir, raised voices straight away. Angry voices...”

“Go on,” said Donne.

“Well, pardon me, sir, but I’m sure ‘e called ‘er a ‘gangrel bitch,’” Hank blushed, but recovered himself quickly.

“An’ right about now, as yer might imagine, I was mighty glad I took them precautions, and then some... more’n yer think.”

“What do you mean?” Donne asked. 

“Stole me the silver right out o’ the lady’s own manor, I did... Just one spoon, sir, but just enough... just enough. Enough for one shaft...”

“What the devil?” said the officer.

“Made me a silver arrow, sir. Melted it down to coat the whole shaft, and I was blessed glad to have it on my hip! By the time I looked up from my quiver, sir...” Hank paused. The room was silent.

“Well, sir, the rain was comin’ on now, and it was mighty bright up on that hill.  And maybe it weren’t two wolves up on their hind legs, up an’ at each other’s throats... Maybe it was just two folks wrasslin’ back and forth, yer might say... But eyes be damned, I know the sound of wolves fightin’ when I hear it!”

“The shot, dammit, did you take the shot?” shouted the officer. Donne had grown silent, but his companion had clearly been drawn into Hank’s tale.

“Aye, sir, best I could, and just enough. One was down with a yelp and the other was off. I got another shot, though... might have took him in the hindquarters.”

“What of the one you dropped?” Donne asked.

“Well, sir, I weren’t rightly in no mood to stick around and find out. I ran straight away here-- run the whole way like the Devil himself was behind me.”

“Quite a run, indeed,” said the officer, chuckling. “Quite a tale, too, but that much at least rings true. Shame he didn’t have a second silver arrow, though, right Inspector?”

“Indeed,” said Donne, grabbing his coat and hat and limping out of the room. “A shame indeed.”


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## alsih2o

o.k., next round posted by xmas night, that will give even the worst slacker time to chime in...then maybe a break fo rnew years, we will see how the winers of the second round respond (or don't)


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## tarchon

*Re: ceramic d.m. 1st round underway*



			
				alsih2o said:
			
		

> *any interest in some story writing based on images?
> *




Oh, I remember taking that test.


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## Buttercup

Ok, here's my entry.  Be kind to me. 

The Kindness of Strangers

(insert image of child on the mountain here) 
It was a fine spring day when Gar found the child wandering alone in the foothills north of Stedford town.  Several of the lambs had strayed, so Gar sent the dog to round up the ones to the south of the flock, while he himself climbed north.  It was a rare brown lamb, whose tawny wool would fetch a handsome sum at the market, so Gar was determined not to let it fall into one of the many cracks & fissures which crossed these high hills.  When he spied the lamb, it wasn’t alone.  There was a small child kneeling with its arms around the fuzzy little creature.  “Here now!”  Called Gar.  “How did a wee one such as yourself get way up here?  Doncha know these mountains are dangerous?”  The child looked up from the lamb and into Gar’s face.  It’s eyes were large and black.  “Who’s your mother, laddie?” asked the kind shepherd.  The child remained silent, and continued to stare into Gar’s face. Gar noticed that there was something strange about those eyes.  They seemed to draw one into endless depths.  Gar shook his head, and mumbled something about the thin air of the mountain making him light headed.  “Laddie, you’d best come back to town with me.  Scooping up the brown lamb under one strong arm, and the boy under the other, Gar made his way back to the flock.  The dog had rounded all of the sheep up and had them ready to descend the steep mountain path.

By the time they had returned all the sheep & lambs to their pens dusk had fallen, so Gar took the child home with him, intending to find the boy’s parents on the morrow.  Gar’s wife took one look at the small boy and with a low cry scooped him into her arms.  “He can’t have more than five summers, Gar!  He might have died up on the mountain alone.  His parents must be frantic!” she said.  Gar’s wife mothered the child, feeding and bathing him, then wrapping him in a warm blanket and cradling him on her lap by the fire.  She gazed into the child’s strange black eyes as she rocked him.  She seemed to sink into their depths….

Gar & his wife took the child to the magistrate next morning, but were told that no one had reported a missing boy.  It was agreed that the child would stay with the shepherd & his wife while a search was conducted for the parents of this silent boy with the strange eyes.  Each day Gar or his wife took the child with them as they went up and down each street of Stedford, asking everyone they passed, knocking on doors, visiting temples.  No one knew the boy. 

Spring turned to summer, and a pall seemed to fall over Stedford.  The weather was hot and dry, causing tempers to flare.  Petty fights broke out among townsmen over inconsequential things.  Beatings and murders, once a rarity in the peaceful town, began to be commonplace.  Even the captain of the city guard was seen striking his wife in the town square.  Gar and his wife snarled and snapped at each other, like the rest of the citizens.  Always the boy watched them, with his strange dark eyes.  
(Insert picture of man striking woman here)

The summer dragged on, hotter and dryer than anyone could recall in the past.  People began to feel ill, most said from the heat.  Wells began to go brackish, and anyone who drank their water became weak, and developed a dry, hacking cough.  Gar and his wife both fell ill.  Gar’s wife no longer had the strength to continue the search for the boy’s parents.  Gar no longer took the sheep up the mountain—he was too weak to make the climb.  The strange, silent boy seemed unaffected by the heat, and did not fall ill.  He began to sit on the bench outside Gar’s door, staring at the passersby with his odd eyes.  Sometimes the boy wandered off, always returning within a few hours.  Gar’s wife worried about this, but every time she was on the verge of scolding the child, he would stare at her, and she would forget what she was going to say.  One day, Gar’s wife could not get out of bed.  Huge boils were beginning to form on her face.
(insert picture of woman with icky boils here)

Gar looked at the ruins of his wife’s face, but he felt as though he watched the world through a fog.  It distantly occurred to him that his wife might be dying, and that he might not be far behind.  Marshalling every last ounce of strength, he turned to the child, who was sitting calmly, staring at the ravaged figure on the bed.  “Come, boy.  We’re too sick to care for you any longer.  Let’s go to the temple.  I’m sorry.”  Then taking the child by the hand, he led him out the door and toward the Temple of the Sun, hard by the town gates.
As Gar and the boy approached the temple, a disturbance erupted not five feet from the steps.  A King’s Runner had collapsed on the pavement, face down, and two clerics knelt beside him.  The runner gasped out his message. “A pestilence is sweeping the kingdom out of the north.  The king’s healers and sages are powerless to halt its progress, or even to explain its origin.  It starts with loss of appetite, then emotional disturbances, usually resulting in anger and hostility.  It is followed by a cough, fever and finally huge boils on the face.  Death follows within hours of the appearance of the boils.”  The runner then coughed weakly, and rolled over onto his back.  His face was covered with huge boils.  He coughed once again, gasped, and died where he lay.  The clerics cried out in horror, and began to pray over the lifeless form.  Gar looked on, trying to make sense out of what he had just heard.  His head was spinning from fever.  He did not realize that the boy was nowhere to be found.  Indeed he had completely forgotten why he had come.  

Three days later, the child wandered through the deserted streets of Stedford.    As the sun set, the child entered the city square and stooped to the pavement with a piece of charcoal in his hands.  He began to draw symbols on the ground.  If Gar had been alive, he would have been surprised at how tall the child had grown, and at the oddly deep chanting which emerged from the mouth of the boy.  Soon the symbols on the pavement began to glimmer.  A shimmering disk of light began to form in the air.  After a minute, or so, the boy’s voice raised into a horrid shriek.  Large shapes began to pour through the shimmering portal that now appeared.  The hoards of leathery black creatures knelt before the boy.  “We come, master!” one of them said.  The child opened his mouth wide, revealing far too many needle-sharp teeth, and let loose an ear-piercing cry.  The black creatures scattered throughout the dead town.  The not-child then turned and walked across the square to the body of a young woman who was slumped on the stones.  He began to feed.  Behind him was a strange container, made out of bamboo.  It had not been there the day before.  The not-boy ate neatly, and with gusto.  When the arm bone on which he gnawed was completely clean, he threw it into the crate.  Soon the leathery creatures began to return, depositing more bones into the crate.  When the sun rose, the crate was full of bones, and the leathery creatures were gone. The boy, now the size of a young man, stood and looked at it with a strange smile on his face.
(insert picture of crate of bones here)


It was a chilly autumn day when the patrol rider found the tiny boy wandering at the edge of the forest.  The boy would not or could not speak, to tell where he had come from.  Being a kind man, the patrol leader decided to take the tiny child home to his wife, and begin a search for his parents.


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## alsih2o

3 of 8, approaching the 48 hour mark. will we be flooded today or will folks be posting late tomorrow morning?


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## alsih2o

less than 24 hours to show off your literary goodnes for all to see


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## astralpwka

Doggy Style
An adventure synopsis that would probably be suitable for development for a 1st through 3rd level party. This adventure focuses on more role-playing than combat, providing an overview for the DM. Development is needed to fully get the most out of this “mystery.”

Order of Pictures: They are set up in order of presentation, one through four, and correlate with the encounter.

Encounter 1 (with pic 1)

Introduction: 
It’s been a cold, miserable evening, and the adventurers have begun looking for a place to make camp before the storm arrives. As they come to an ample clearing with a canopy of growth giving them a rudimentary shelter, a shadow flits through the dark foliage. She approaches the edge of the camp and smiles demurely at the party, with an obtrusive glance at their weapons, as she is unarmed. 

“A cold night to be out in the woods,” She says. “Come with me. You will be welcome at my hearth. There are evil things that roam at night. It is best to be away.”

As she says this, thunder rumbles over the mountains as the storm approaches. The wind rises, threatening to pull her cloak back, and she wraps it about herself to chase off the chill. Somewhere off in the night, the howl of a lone wolf is heard. The ululation holds for five seconds and dies, returning to the sole sound of the moaning of the wind. 

“Quickly, if you wish for shelter tonight.” With that she turns and leaves.

Encounter 1 overview: The adventurers are met by a strange-cloaked woman, who finds them before the onslaught of a storm. She leads them through the verdant forest, but her steps always keep her just ahead of the party, regardless of the speed of their fastest member. If any try to overtake her, she disappears behind a tree and is gone. However, as the party reaches the spot where they last saw her, the forest opens up, revealing a modest castle across a small meadow. The glow of a warm fire can be seen through the windows, and is very inviting as the storm blows in, fast and furious. The strange woman can no longer be seen.

The party is greeted by a man in waiting, who ushers the party in, out of the cold. He tells them that the lady Milanni is the woman who guided them here, but she is now a ghost, forever cursed to wander her estates until someone can learn the cause of her death.

The castle is decorated heavily with wolf imagery. Tapestries hung throughout the castle depict wolves. There are tapestries of packs, of hunting and stalking, etc. Vases, mirror sketching, statuary, all bear the images of wolves.

The Baron Supul is the owner of the land, and Milanni’s widower. After hearing that his wife led the party here, he is most gracious and extends his hospitality to the party. He does not know the cause of her death, only that one day she disappeared. He is most forward in extending to the party full privileges on his estates to discover the death of his wife, who disappeared over four years ago.

The castle holds no threats, and the DM may fill with whatever NPC’s he feels necessary.

Encounter 2 (with pic 2)
Encounter 2 Overview: The following morning the storm has lifted, and the party hears the sound of an arrow striking a target. Glancing outside, there is another individual not present from the night before. Inquiries reveal him to be the Baron’s son from his first marriage. 

The party may either approach him, or he will eventually seek them out. His name is Supul II. “The baron murders his wives,” the son explains. “There are secret dungeons, no one has access, but all of his wives have one by one discovered them and never returned.” The son explains that he is a coward, and will not enter them. Someone else will have to, collect the evidence so that the Baron may face justice. He tells them how to find the secret entrance. There is a decorative knocker hung by the back stairwell of the castle, leading to the main sleeping chamber of the Baron. Pulling on the knocker opens a secret door to the dungeons.

If the Baron is approached about the multiple disappearing wives, he admits he has lost two wives, both mysteriously. He does not know anything about their disappearances, but does not consider them tied together. He denies knowing anything about a secret door. He plans on going hunting, and leaves the party with the castle, to continue the investigation. He does not want to be present for any of their searching.

Encounter 3 (with pic 3)
Encounter 3 Overview: The party finds the knocker. It is a decorative wolf head, keeping with the theme of the castle. When one of the party pulls the knocker, the stone grates, but moves. It is not sealed too tightly. A dark passageway stretches out before them, leading down beneath the castle, down a twisting stairway, to the dungeons proper. 

There are no prisoners within the dungeon. Each cell is empty; that is until the party reaches the final door. From beyond the door, they hear a gravelly voice say, “Who pays a visit to old Briar? Come closer, I do not smell as well as I used to…”

DM Notes: Traps may be incorporated into this scene, particularly the knocker and the cell to Briar’s cell door.

Encounter 4
Encounter 4 Overview: Behind the cell door is a worg who speaks common. She has been trapped here to long by the Baron’s son, who has led people here over the years, including the two wives of the baron. However, the worg is old and not as powerful as she once was. 

If the party opens the door, she attacks. If they don’t the door is triggered open by the Baron’s son, Supul II.He appears behind the party with his longbow. “Kill them, Briar,” he shouts, as he unleashes his attack, “Kill them and I’ll reunite you with your mate.”

Here’s the party’s choice. Worgs are notoriously evil, but this one has been tricked, tortured and kept as a prisoner. Odds are, the worg is going to die. She attacks the party, long ago surrendering to the abuse of the baron’s son.

After the combat is over, a spectral image steps through the wall. It appears as a ghost of a large male worg. He lopes over and stands over the corpse of Briar. Briar rises from the corpse, and the two greet each other. (Pic 4) Then the two depart for parts unknown.

Behind the Story: Supul II has seen to it that there are no other siblings to del with, and eventually has plotted the demise of his father. Supul, in fact, is about to have an encounter with one of Supul’s henchmen. That is why the ghost sought the party out, to save her beloved husband. Baron Supul survives the encounter on his own, dispatching the would-be assassin. He will be deeply grieved learning of his only son’s treachery. 

Fini!!!!


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## astralpwka

Looks like I'm the only adventure so far? Maybe should have gone short fiction too...  

Think I'll go read my competitor's now...

Merry Christmas!!!!


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## Mirth

*mirthcard vs. Buttercup* 

*Oh This Is Bull$*!+* 
An introductory adventure for 4-6 characters of levels 1-4

*The Set-Up:*
The PCs are in the village of Teklos for the annual spring Festival of Good Cheer. As this is an introductory adventure, they may or may not know each other. Since they can spend some time buying wares, drinking, competing in contests of strength and skill, etc., they may have a chance to run into each other, but it isn't necessary. The DM can feel free to fill this idle time with side encounters or to set-up later adventures. 

As the Festival draws to an end, however, everyone goes to attend _the play_, a tradition in these parts for over 20 years. The play recounts the story of The Herd - half-men, half-beasts who have plagued this region for as long as anyone can remember. The monsters, portrayed by actors wearing hides and a bull's skull on their shoulders *(Picture #3)*, are shown terrorizing, kidnapping and slaughtering hundreds of innocents. Men, women and children have all fallen victim to The Herd, although a few times the beasts have been brought down as well. The story of the handful of heroes who have been lucky enough from time to time to fell one of the creatures are told with reverance and awe. However, they pale in comparison to the amount of death and destruction that The Herd has brought, which is given physical impact when a small boy pulls back a curtain on the side of the stage to reveal a huge wooden box filled with the skulls and bones of those who have fallen victim to the monsters *(Picture #2).*

A gasp goes through the audience when the remains of the dead are revealed and much crying is heard. The narrator has just stepped forward to deliver a moral on valuing those around you and being wary, when a older man (obviously drunk) runs up on stage, screaming "Stop this, you murderers! You will let her die! Bastards, all of you! You talk about heroes, but none of you is man enough to stand up to the beasts!" The man breaks into wracking sobs and drops to his knees on stage as he continues, "Who will save my daughter ... my beautiful Eidymia ... ?!?" A heckler calls out from the audience, "Ha! Maybe if she was beautiful!" Small chuckles ripple through the crowd. The man looks to the crowd, "I have money ... please ... If I can't appeal to greed, doesn't anyone have a heart?" The narrator comes forward and kicks at the man, saying, "Go home, Theomyn, before you embarrass yourself further." Theomyn stumbles to his feet and makes his way off the stage, muttering, "Bastards ... what good is all of my money, if I'm surrounded by bastards..." With that, he leaves and the crowd disperses.

The bait has been tossed, will the party take the hook?

*What's really going on:*
Theomyn is a wealthy merchant who will pay well for the return of his daughter Eidymia. She is the latest to be abducted by The Herd, a family of Minotaurs that makes its home in a group of caves and tunnels several miles from the village of Teklos. The reason that the villagers have no interest in rescuing Eidymia is that she was born with a severely disfigured face *(Picture #4)*, and she is known to be quite the shrew. The locals feel that risking their lives over the welfare of an ugly b!+¢h is pretty much a lost cause, especially since her father is such a greedy capitalist.

As for the minotaurs, although they are (or were) the villains that _the play_ purports them to be, what the townsfolk don't know is that their numbers are dwindling. In fact, there are only two of the family left - the ancient Mettallax and his young son Orexykos. Mettallax is an ancient and evil force to be reckoned with and the DM should feel free to scale him in power according to the total levels of the party. Giving him a few levels in barbarian would be good way of doing this if the party is all 4th level, for instance. Orexykos, on the other hand, is young and inexperienced, but still as tough as any normal minotaur.

Although Eidymia has been gone for several weeks, she is not dead. The PCs may think so, and they may try to convince Theomyn of it, but he will not believe them and will gladly pay the PCs beforehand, if they are willing to search for her, more if they rescue her. He isn't the calculating businessman everyone believes him to be. He knows that his daughter isn't ever going to be married, so he was simply trying to make sure her life would be as secure as possible after he was gone. Now that she is gone, his is willing to give all of that wealth up if he gets her back. 

The true twist to this scenario, and the only reason that Eidymia is not dead, is that she and Orexykos have fallen in love. 

You see, Orexykos, unlike his father, is actually a kind-hearted soul. He hates Mettallax for never loving him and the divide between them has grown in the last five years since Orexykos' mother died. They even live in completely separate parts of their cave complex. Mettallax knows that his son is soft and he bullied Orexykos into kidnapping a human in hopes that the young calf would either be killed or grow up. Although he would never admit it to himself, the old bull knows he is getting up there in years and had also hoped that the villagers would mount an assault on him and he could go out in a blaze of glory. Since neither of those things has happened, Mettallax doesn't know what to do. He is at the point now that he is ready to kill both Orexykos and Eidymia himself.

As for Eidymia, she is not the cold-hearted wench that the townsfolk believe her to be. That mean exterior was only there to hide her true beauty inside from being hurt by the stares and insults of her insensitive and ignorant neighbors. Once Orexykos kidnapped her, he found that he couldn't bring himself to kill her and in the few weeks that they spent together, Eidymia has come to realize that she has finally found someone he isn't repulsed by her. They are plotting their elopement and their escape from Mettallax. The only catch is that Eidymia loves her father Theomyn deeply, and doesn't wish to leave him all alone (her mother has died as well, providing another connection with Orexykos), but she can't see how he would approve of her love. What will the young couple do when their daddies just can't get along?

*The Main Event:*
When the party takes on Theomyn's cause, he will hire a guide *(Picture #1)* to take near the cave area where The Herd is believed to reside. Once there, they have to figure out the family politics involved in the situation. Orexykos is probably the first encounter they will have. He will try to defend Eidymia from the party, while she will be screaming and trying to explain and bring peace to the situation. Mettallax will wait to see how his son handles it before becoming involved. If the party takes on Orexykos, then Mettallax will stay out of the fight. If a peace is negotiated, the old bull will charge into battle, infuriated by his son's ineptitude and weak will (raging if he has Barbarian levels). The party could see this as an ambush and begin attacking both minotaurs. If they don't, Orexykos will join them in trying to defeat his father. If they do, then all heck will break loose as Eidymia jumps into the fray as well, trying to save her lover. Regardless, Mettallax will try his best to kill everyone.

*The End?:*
The adventure could come to several conclusions:

---Mettallax and Orexykos are dead. The party are praised as the heroes of all heroes who have eliminated The Herd. If Eidymia has been killed as well, then her father will become a very powerful and weathy enemy. If she has not been killed, then she will once she has inherited her father's wealth.

---Mettallax is dead, but Orexykos isn't. If Eidymia has been killed, then Orexykos will turn on them. If she hasn't, then the heroes have the complex problem of how to deal with a peaceful minotaur in a culture that reviles him. If they want the rest of the substantial reward, they will have to convince Theomyn to accept his daughter's new love - a near-impossible task.

---Mettallax is alive, but nearly everyone else is dead. The remaining members of the party barely make their escape alive. If they get away with Eidymia, Theomyn will pay them well, if they don't, he won't. Everything returns to the status quo, although the town may start up a mob to hunt down Mettallax if they know that he is the last remaining member of The Herd.

OOC: Happy Holidays, everybody!!!!!


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## alsih2o

just a little over 2 and a half hours left...round 2 will be ready by tonight, possibly late


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## Wulf Ratbane

Should I be feeling stupid for choosing the short fiction? Maybe I misunderstood the contest... I thought it was supposed to be different than regular ol' Iron DM.

I am looking forward to seeing the nemmerlesque-- err, alsihesque-- ahh, _clayesque_ judging!


Wulf


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## Milo Bloom

*Nemmerle vs Milo Bloom Rd 1*

I apologize for the lateness of my submission. I had to write this around driving six hours to Florida fom Georgia, wrapping christmas presents andof course opening them.

that out of the way...


Ninlulim, lugal to all the people of Khianulat, gazed fiercely across the silent chamber upon his assembled council. The advisors shifted uncomfortably dreading the questions for which they had no answers. 

Búlak, the ork warlord, and his horde had viciously attacked several of the smaller cities far from the capital city of Jhin Na Lai. As yet no one could determine for sure if he intended this as a prelude to an invasion or was simply acting on a random whim. 

“Tell me most esteemed ones, why has Búlak chosen this time to attack our land?”

Of all his advisors only Enmansis, the astronomer was bold enough to offer what most of them were thinking. “Perhaps their dark god wishes to disrupt the ritual of Enui. If he could prevent us from invoking the magic of the divine then Ghörlug would be free to once again walk among us. We should take care and secure the iron chair that is his prison before the orks are able to find it.”

He pulled forth one of his books and opened it to a page that had a picture of a chair made from wrought iron chains. None of the advisors had to read the accompanying page to know that it was the prison Enui had trapped the demon in.

The old priest Endrah’s body tensed as if he had been physically struck by the astrologers mentioning of the artifact. He made a gesture of respect to his goddess before he began to speak.

“Enmansis if you truly believe this, then I am afraid you are chasing at shadows. The demon is securely imprisoned by the power of my mistress Enui, and no army of orks can change that. The chair is well hidden and it is doubtful that the orks will be able to find it in time to have it present at the ritual.”

Ninlulim could see the astrologer was about to respond to the priest’s statement, any further argument would only cause further problems within the council. He needed something done that would allay the fears of his subjects. 

He intervened quickly. “Agreed most reverent father. In any event none of us, orks included, know the exact location where Enui’s champion defeated Ghörlug. Without that knowledge freeing the demon would be a difficult undertaking.”

“As you say honored one, I have little knowledge as to the workings of the gods. I am sorry if my comments were blasphemy in the eyes of the church. In the future I will refrain from commenting on that which I do not understand.”

 “Perhaps your majesty I can make a suggestion? Perhaps we should send scouts to determine the motive of the ork attacks. It is obvious from the concentration of their attacks that they are looking for something. Even if it is not the prison of some demon, we should be wary least it be some lost ork artifact of power.”

A grizzled veteran of many conflicts, Et-Nanki was ever the tactician. Ninlulim smiled inwardly as he considered his general’s suggestion. This should both appease the revered priest and calm any fears the astrologer may have.

“A sound idea general and one I think acceptable to the council, I believe?”

The king looked deliberately at Enmansis, who stared at the table and nodded his head.

<hr>

A short while later Enmansis stormed into his private residence, a large observatory overlooking the rest of Jhin Na Lai.

Astah looked up from the looking over a collection of swords and axes he had laid out on one of the worktables.

“Does something trouble you, most honored master?”

“That fool king has agreed to send army scouts to investigate the ork activities.”

“How is this bad, honored lord? It allows the king to observe the orkish activity and determine the cause of their attacks.”

“I believe the orks are looking for the key to freeing Ghörlug from his prison. If they can find this and bring it to the ritual, and then…” His voice trailed off.

“Then he will seek vengeance on the followers of Enui for his imprisonment. The orks will once again have access to divine guidance. The kingdoms of man will tumble and fall under the tide of Búlak’s horde.”

“Good, you understand the implications of these events then. We must get to the chair first and make sure the orks do not free their demon god. Only with the chair secured here in the city can we be safe from any further threats of the demon’s return.”

“Surely the council agreed that the chair should be found and removed to a safer location?”

“No they are doubtful that the demon’s followers, the orks, can successfully undo the workings of the goddess Enui. They have decided that my theory is nothing more than a paranoid old man’s musings.”

“You wish me to find this artifact for you then? I shall do so if you request it of me.”

“I think that is an excellent idea Astah. If you find the chair and return it to me then you will have repaid me the debt that is owed. Now I have studied several accounts of the events leading up to the demons imprisonment and I think I have narrowed the chair’s location based on constellations that were present in the sky.”

<hr>

After a few weeks of travel Astah crept through the ancient ruins of Huai Khon, pausing within what was once a small private garden. A gentle breeze washed the sweet scent of violets across the field separating him from the castle ruins.

He took a moment to reflect over his indentured state of servitude to the wizard Enmansis. Like all of his kind he was honor bound to faithfully obey his masters commands. So far the wizard had asked very little of Astah that did not serve the good of others. In that way it made the arrangement something he considered tolerable. With this quest his debt to the wizard would be discharged and he would once again be free to wander the world.

Shaking himself from his musings, he cautiously crept across the open field, warily searching for any signs of hostile entities. He detected the presence of a small party of orks camped within the castle courtyard. He cursed hoping he wasn’t to late.

Stealing himself for the fight ahead he crept over a ruined section of wall.

He was spotted almost immediately, however instead of attacking the orks withdrew to a safer distance. What appeared to be a shaman or perhaps even a priest stepped forward.

“Human, you no stay here…go back to where you came. You leave we no kill, you stay we have to kill. Do self a favor and forget you see this place, nothing here worth dying for.”

“I’m afraid I can’t just leave and forget I was here. My master has commanded me to retrieve your demon god’s chair and place it somewhere safe.”

“Then you die human. No one get chair.”

The five orks rushed forward, it was clear they did not intend to allow Astah to leave this place.

Astah reached out and summoned forth the wrath of Kjail, lord of earth. The earth shook at his call and the orks were knocked to the ground by the force of the tremors. Decades of training took hold instantly and it was over before the orks had time to finish their cries of dismay.

<hr>

Once again moving through the ruins, Astah heard the faint sound of music filtered through the air around him. He readied a protective charm and drew his sword once more. He headed down one of the ruined hallways seeking the source of the music. As he rounded the corner the music’s origin changed.

“I have no time for these games, show yourself to me, I care not if you play Enui’s Courting, If you seek to stop me from reaching my goal you will die all the same.”

“Such aggression will do you little good against one such as I, spawn of Kjail. I bring you greetings from Lord Otu.” A disembodied voice mocked him.

“Of what interest are the actions of a simple warrior to one such as the Sun God, deva?” 

The sound of the deva’s giggling resounded around him. He found himself confronted with a gaily-dressed woman holding a recorder.

“Lord Otu, wishes to help you in your quest to prevent the return of Ghörlug to this realm.”

“Do you plan to materialize the chair within the kings vault for me then? If lord Otu is so helpful to the offspring of the lord of earth, why wait until I reach the location of the chair to offer his generosity?”

The woman’s laugh echoed through the ruins. “Oh young cousin, I do not wish to give you the chair. I seek instead to help you with your quest of keeping those who would seek to free the demon from achieving such goals. That is what you were sent here to do isn’t it?”

Astah pondered her question for the briefest of moments. What game was the sun god playing at? 

“I see my words have caused you to think a bit about why are you here. Tell my warrior why did you wizard send you here? Was it to retrieve the chair or to prevent the demon from being released.”

“To safe guard the chair from those who seek to release the demon from his prison. To do this he asked I bring the chair to the castle for safe keeping.”

“If your goal is to keep the chair safe from those who wish to use it to release the demon then you must leave it here. The chair is safely guarded from those who seek access to it by the protection of Enui. Only a descendent of one of the lords of heaven may access the chamber that holds the chair. Such is written in the church of Enui’s manuscripts on the artifact.”

“Enmansis made no mention of such protection to me. I shall return to him and inform him that the chair is safe where it is.”

“You have attained only partial understanding of your mission, warrior. The chair is safe only so long as no one gains access to it. You must prevent those forces from trying to gain access to the chair in the future. Such as they could do by deceiving one of those who can enter here into retrieving it for them.”

“I understand, messenger I shall have to make sure that such people are punished for their transgressions against the gods. If you shall excuse me, it is many miles back to Jhin Na Lai and my quest is not yet completed. My master and I have to have one final discussion regarding faith and state of my servitude to him.”


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## alsih2o

Wulf Ratbane said:
			
		

> *Should I be feeling stupid for choosing the short fiction? *




 no, i think this will be a little more open in form than the irnon d.m. tm so as to avoid getting sued


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## Milo Bloom

*Order*

I did not want to include picture notations in the story itself. In order they are one per section:

The Chair
The Weapons
The Ruins
and the Woman playing the recorder

hopefully Nemmerle makes his post before time runs out.


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## alsih2o

no apology required milobloom, you have a full 72 hours at your disposal


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## NiTessine

Here is my entry, with a whole fourteen minutes to spare...

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

The trees that had once formed the Walk of Rillifane stood dead and grey (1). Their once straight and proud limbs were tangled into great knots, blocking the daylight and looking as if they were ready to fall down on whomever walked under them. 

Thus had been the way of things for a century, now, when the elven settlement had fallen in their fight against a one of the orcs' unstoppable charges from the mountains to the seas, attacking everything that moved and eating of burning most that didn't. The orcs hadn't spent much time ransacking the Manor of Leaves, however. The trees had been young and green then, and the fires of the orcs didn't take. The bloodthirsty war host had rumbled on eastwards without bothering to loot the place more carefully, or burning it to the ground. The occupants had been slaughtered, and that was enough for the greenskins.

No monsters, fiends, or even roaming bandits had since come to live in the abandoned halls. Sorrow permeated the very air in the place, and even animals avoided it. Adventurers, of course, had come and gone, looting the place for whatever valuables the orcs and the elves had left. Except for one little thing. The little things are always easy to miss. And that was why the Walk of Rillifane echoed once more with the quiet steps of people afraid of disturbing the ghosts of the past, and yet quite capable of dealing with them should they choose to rise from their slumber.

The adventurers were both human. The other was obviously a warrior, decked out in full plate mail, and carrying a longsword at his belt and a shield in his back. A featureless black tabard covered his armour. His companion was a rather less imposing fellow. The other man was slightly overweight man well into his sixties. His tanned scalp was mostly bare, the hair having turned white and receded to occupy a position above his ears well over a decade ago. His garb was only a short cotton robe of an off-white shade, with a bag hanging from a leather belt around his waist. He was unarmed.

The two walked at an almost leisurely gait towards the great Manor. They stepped over the remains of the great double door that had once stood between the outside world and the great building's insides. They shuffled through the fallen leaves, debris, and the occasional orcish or elven skeleton. There was no haste in the pair's steps, though it was clear to any observer they knew where they were going.

The two adventurers walked through the great front of the Manor, and into the yard. It was almost a small village into itself, and quite untouched by the passage of years. The old man paused to look upon the sight (3). Pointing at a tower standing some three hundred feet away, he spoke:
"Well, Rothren…  That over there is the tower of Castarweln. According to the Abbot's spell, the Czendar is inside."
"Good. Is it warded?" the warrior answered.
"Probably. Castarweln was not an archwizard, but he still could conjure up quite a few traps and shields. And elven magic lasts for a long time." The bald man raised his round face up, to look at the three-storey building. "Well, we've no time to waste. I'd rather get the Czendar and be out of here before the Morvandian chap arrives."

Rothren and his elderly friend walked over to the tower's oval-shaped door. It was carved with Elven script, and had been inset with precious stones and metals, before someone had gouged them out.
"Well, this is a good sign… If the door has been defaced, it means it's not warded. Let's see, now…" he leaned forward to take a closer look at the runes. And at that moment, the door was slammed into his face, breaking his nose and knocking him unconscious.

Rothren drew his sword and slung his shield from his back. He saw who stood in the doorframe.
"You!" he spat the word out, sparing only a momentary glance to see his friend was alive.
"Who else? I have the Czendar now. It is mine, and you cannot stop me. Nor can Crimban, apparently," the man answered in a thickly accented bass voice, gesturing at the robed man, lying on the ground. He was tall, and wore a plain suit of armour. The great helmet that covered his head bore the distinctive look of Morvandian workmanship. A bastard sword, its pommel carved in the form of a bestial visage, was sheathed at his waist.

"Give it to us, and we may let you live," Rothren answered. "If not… we should then finish that duel we started in back in Veren."
"Really, now? You must prove to yourself that you are a better swordsman than I? Were all of your kind so eager to perish in battle, we would've been rid of you meddling knights long ago. But, if it is battle that you wish, then battle it is you'll get!" the armoured Morvandian bared his sword, a long, jagged thing of black steel. Taking a two-handed grip on the fiendish weapon, he attacked (4).

The dark warrior's swings were slow, but terrifyingly strong. Rothren's shield was soon dented and nicked, and every strike he blocked with his sword jarred his arm painfully. His own slashes were swifter, but the Morvandian's armour was thick, and though the leather overcoat he wore over it was soon reduced to ribbons, the breastplate was impossible to pierce. The Morvandian kept the seams carefully hidden.

As the clang of steel on steel echoed across the Manor of Leaves, Crimban shook his head, wiped blood from his face, and groggily rose to a sitting position. When he saw what was happening, his gaze focused. He had to act quickly. Rothren was on the defensive, and losing ground. The demon sword of his opponent was too strong. Neither combatant had yet laid a scratch on the other, but they were both taught in the old style. They would hit only once, and that would be the killing blow.

The robed man stood up and slipped a hand in his pouch. Neither of the warriors had noticed he'd come to, being too concentrated in their battle. Muttering arcane words under his breath, he reached towards the Morvandian warrior, feeling at the air for a bit, and then closed his hand into a fist and yanked upwards and towards himself. The effect was immediately noticeable. A small golden object shot out from inside the dark fighter's belt pouch, and landed on a flagstone at Crimban's feet (2). He picked it up, smiling.

"Rothren, finish him off, if you would. We have what we came for, and should make haste to return," he called. Both the Morvandian and Rothren stopped for a moment, looking at ht bloodied wizard, holding the golden object, the Czendar, in his hand.

"You meddling fool! Give me that!" the Morvandian cried, his voice reverberating inside his helmet, adding an alien note. His sword bared, he started towards Crimban, and then remembered, too late, Rothren. There was a flash of steel, and the dark warrior's headless body dropped to the ground. His head landed in the grass some feet away. The knight cleaned his sword and sheathed it.
"It is finished," Rothren said grimly.

"Quite so, but only for his part… There is still a lot to do, and I fear our decapitated friend wasn't working alone. Now that we have the Czendar…" he held the small golden sculpture in the air, letting it catch the sunlight. "…our trials and troubles are just about to begin."

Crimban smiled, wiped some blood off his nose, and started walking back towards the tunnel of trees. Rothren looked at him for a moment, and followed.


----------



## astralpwka

Wulf- 

I had originally decided on the adventure... changed my mind and went fiction... couldn't do it happily with less than 3000 words so I went back to the adventure. Otherwise I think I could've  posted the first night.


----------



## alsih2o

winners list and new pics by midnight...i am thinking 5 pics for the next round...then 6 for the last


----------



## Maldur

I think its hard, all stories are so different.

But some good stuff all together.


----------



## Buttercup

> _Originally posted by alsih2o _*winners list and new pics by midnight*




Well then, in the unlikely event that I advance to the next round, I'll know in the morning.  No way can I stay up until midnight.


----------



## Sixchan

It's past midnight here, and I wouldn't have thought I'd make it to alsih20's midnight, but with all this excitement from Hal's presents thread, I don't think I'll be able to sleep.


----------



## alsih2o

*nitessine vs sixchan*

rd 1 nitessine vs. sixchan

 sixchan and arwink both brought us some interesting goodness in their stories. both drop us in the midst of a scene and give us enough room to feel our way around see some of the motivations of the characters involved.

  both stories seem to be only a chapter in a longer tale and either bears fleshing out, but nitessine (stepping in late, valorously) seems to give me more of a completed story.

 thus, while both worked rather well with their ingredients, this round goes to nitessine.

 congrats to the nit.


----------



## alsih2o

*mirthcard vs. buttercup*

rd 1 mirthcard vs buttercup

 here we see 2 completely different styles in competition.

 buttercup brings us an eerie twilight zone-ish tale that leaves one with an unsettled feeling familiar to fans of that kind of fiction, and weaves the gloomyness of her dark tale well. i would like to see her protagonist statted as some type of d20 monster, if she gets the time and inclination.

 mirthcard brings us a miniadventure with an excellent twist. his odd love affair surprised me even tho it is a frequently used device. the tension runs multiple directions in his piece, and i think that gives him the edge.

 two good pieces, 1 winner, and it is mirthcard.


----------



## alsih2o

rd 1 asraltpwka vs wulfratbane

 again, and adventure vs a story. 

 wulf ratbane draws us into a lycanthropic tale told from an arm length. his use of language was interesting and the theft of the coin entertained me greatly  his piece has a continous and solid mood, the characters were individual, but recognizable.

 astral pwka brings us a tale of deceit and greed, with ghostly assistance form the dead (yeah, i know, who else oin gonna give ghostly assistance) he seems to be on his way to a very solid miniadventure, but leaves me with the feeling that the adventurers aren't quite the center of the story, but only participants. i think A's entry should be reworked into a narrative, where it's strengths could shine thru better.

 winner, wulf ratbane.

 (no extra credit was given for the included pdf, but this judge thought it was certainly ubercool)


----------



## alsih2o

nemmerle vs milobloom

 milo brings us what sounds to me like an episode from a larger story. his use of the chair intersted me and managed to bring a light to a story about invading orcs, not an easy task. instead of a direct frontline story as the intro would have you believe he hits us with political intrigue and backroom shuffling.

 his opponent was evidently swallowed by the holidays, mlilo gets to round 2 by default.


----------



## alsih2o

o.k. kids round 2, 

nitessine vs. mirthcard

wulfratbane vs milobloom

 5 ingredients, 72 hours, depending on everyones schedules we may have to break over new years, but 72 hours from you pics posted for this rd.

 good luck!


----------



## alsih2o

round 2  nittessine vs mirthcard 

 pic1(remember, 5 pics this time)


----------



## alsih2o

nit vs mirth
 pic 2


----------



## alsih2o

nit vs mirth
 pic 3


----------



## alsih2o

nit vs mirth
pic 4


----------



## alsih2o

nit vs mirth
 pic 5 (72 hours folks)


----------



## alsih2o

round 2 

 pic 1 (remember, 5 pics this round)wulf ratbane vs milo bloom


----------



## alsih2o

milo vs wulf
 pic 2


----------



## alsih2o

wulf vs milo
 pic 3


----------



## alsih2o

milo vs. wulf
 pic 4


----------



## alsih2o

wulf vs milo
 pic 5


----------



## alsih2o

sorry pic 4 is so big, i tried to shrink it unsuccessfully...


----------



## alsih2o

no response form the winners or losers?


 anything?


----------



## Mirth

*Re: mirthcard vs. buttercup*



			
				alsih2o said:
			
		

> *rd 1 mirthcard vs buttercup
> 
> here we see 2 completely different styles in competition.
> 
> buttercup brings us an eerie twilight zone-ish tale that leaves one with an unsettled feeling familiar to fans of that kind of fiction, and weaves the gloomyness of her dark tale well. i would like to see her protagonist statted as some type of d20 monster, if she gets the time and inclination.
> 
> mirthcard brings us a miniadventure with an excellent twist. his odd love affair surprised me even tho it is a frequently used device. the tension runs multiple directions in his piece, and i think that gives him the edge.
> 
> two good pieces, 1 winner, and it is mirthcard. *




Thanks alsih2o! I was going over the pics for the next round and I forgot that I hadn't posted  And a special thanks for not putting me up against Wulf in the second round ... whew 

Buttercup, that little bugger in your story is freaky Especially those teeth at the end. I enjoyed the story immensely and wanted to say "Good Show." Perhaps we'll meet on the battlefield again.

Good luck to the other three left...


----------



## astralpwka

Congrats Wulf! 

(*mumbling: "should have gone fiction..."*)


----------



## Buttercup

Congrats Mirthcard!  Clay, I was in bed by 10:00 last night, so I didn't see the judgement until now.  I agree that Mirthcard's was better than mine.

As for statting the little creature, hmmm.  Let me think about it.

And good luck to all who are advancing to the next round!


----------



## alsih2o

Buttercup said:
			
		

> *Congrat
> 
> As for statting the little creature, hmmm.  Let me think about it.
> *




 i was serious about that, i see them as a funky kind of luck/disease based race, i would love to see what you come up with


----------



## Wulf Ratbane

alsih2o said:
			
		

> *no response form the winners or losers?
> 
> 
> anything? *




I dunno, your critique was a little short. Nothing to say, really. I mean, we can't really call that nemmerlesque criticism, can we? 

A.p., good job... Until next time!


Wulf


----------



## alsih2o

Wulf Ratbane said:
			
		

> *
> we can't really call that nemmerlesque criticism, can we?
> 
> *




 i will work on this, you can trust that i spent a lot more time readind, rereading and thinking on them than i did writing reviews...may nem will send me some pointers


----------



## Maldur

Good luck in round two!

Difficult pic there, the combinations are even worse.
I think that using pics as basis for iron dm are great btw.


----------



## alsih2o

thanks maldur...it is an old idea i believe, but thanks anyway


----------



## Sixchan

Congrats, nit! 

You would have probably progressed anyway, I'm having a lot of computer trouble at the moment.


----------



## alsih2o

quickly approaching the halfway point....i have been rereading some nemmerla crit, since he seems to be the standard.

 we will see......


----------



## alsih2o

2/3 in,....and nary a peep.


----------



## Mirth

peep


----------



## alsih2o

what a tease!!!


----------



## Maldur

hehe


----------



## NiTessine

This text has been written at 1 am, and the writer is not responsible for any typoes or logical errors.
---------------------

Lieutenant Jason Lyndon, also known sometimes as "Liquid", walked into the Colonel's sand brown tent. They were in some nameless spot of land some miles south of the town of As Sallum. The Battle of El Alamein had come to a brief pause as Rommel's Afrika Korps had withdrawn to Tobruk. The Germans were licking their wounds in the confines of the Libyan town, waiting for the next British attack. And apparently, Talent commandos were needed to ensure the success of that attack. Again.

"Sir," Lyndon said, snapping a sharp salute at the officer. Colonel Winston waved it away, and spoke.
"I am going to be brief, because we do not have much time. We just received word that one of our planes crash landed in the desert some twenty miles south of Tobruk. The pilot sent out a distress signal and his coordinates on an open frequency, so the Germans probably got them, too. The pilot was carrying important missives from London to General Montgomery. Your squad will retrieve them, before the Germans get there. On your way, Lieutenant," the heavyset man finished, handing the rather leaner Talent a map with the crash site marked in the appropriate coordinates.
"Yes, Sir." Lyndon saluted again and left the tent on swift feet.

His squad was ready to act at once, as always. The five Talents were soon in their halftrack and busily raising a dust cloud on the clear sky of North Africa. It was dwarfed by the great plumes of greasy black smoke that rose from the burning tanks and other vehicles that dotted the landscape, destroyed by the tanks and artillery of the Eighth Army. The heavy vehicle left a broad track in the soft sand of Sahara (2).

Lyndon sat in the front seat with Sergeant William "Goggles" Beckinhurst. Beckinhurst was the best driver in the squad, and had eyes sharp enough to spot a man five miles away, tell the colour of his eyes, and put a bullet between them. The man had gone through Oxford before manifesting his extraordinary eyesight and immediately enlisted in the army.

They sat in the halftrack surveying the horizon for signs of life, as their vehicle made its way towards the crash site. The ground had gradually transformed from the soft, fine sand to a more rocky soil (4). The tracks made a terrible noise as their rolled over the stones. The Talents were nearly at the spot marked by 'X', when Goggles spoke.
"Sir, there is a dust plume in the horizon, moving in a north-south line towards the wreck. I'd say it's the jerries."
The Lieutenant peered at the horizon through his binoculars, and sighted the small cloud.
"One vehicle only. Good job, Goggles. Now step on it and get us there before the krauts."

Goggles saw the wreck soon, too. It was a small, fast two-man plane, though only one of the pilots was visible, and making great efforts to hide. The other vehicle also came soon to view, and was revealed to be a truck bearing the markings of the Third Reich and Afrika Korps.

"We've got company, lads!" Lyndon shouted to the four other Talents sitting in the back of the track.
"Oi, watch who yer callin' lad, boy!" came an indignant response in a thick Scottish accent. It was Corporal Kenneth "Illusionist" Wallace. The red bearded man claimed the legendary William Wallace was a direct ancestor of his, and certainly both shared the same dislike for English authority figures. Only his skill in creating large, credible illusions had kept him from facing the Court Martial for insubordination.

The halftrack drew up to the wrecked plane, while the truck full of Germans stopped some 120 feet away, turning a broad side to the British Talents. Lyndon recognized the maneuver.
"They've got a machine gun!" he cried, not a moment too soon. A flap in the German truck's cloth opened, and a Maschinengewehr-42 began its death rattle, spewing hot lead at the plane and the halftrack. Goggles ducked his head as the track's windows were shattered and the bullets began pounding the heavily armoured driver's compartment. Lyndon threw his door open and jumped out, placing the track's steel bulk between himself and the Germans.

The Lieutenant snuck a glance from under the track, and saw the German soldiers disembark from their truck, four in all. The machine gun required two men, plus the two in the driver's cabin… For a total of eight men. Easy, the lieutenant thought, as he took aim, removed the safety on his Thompson, and pulled the trigger.

The long burst took down both of the men at the machine gun, killing at least one of them instantly, Lyndon saw. Not many men lived after three bullets hit them in the face. After the burst, the Germans took quickly cover behind dunes, sending the occasional rifle shot at the halftrack but doing no real damage to anything other than the paint job.

Then, all of sudden, an enormous skeleton, ten feet tall, with eyes glowing hellfire and dark smoke pouring from its fanged maw, appeared in front of the Germans. It wielded a shot spear with a viciously barbed tip. It brandished the weapon menacingly, and started towards the Germans cowering in the sand. And, just as suddenly as it appeared, it disappeared with a fizzle.

"The bloody krauts've got a Zed!" came the Illusionists muffled and angry cry from within the halftrack. A Zed was a Talent who could counter the Talents of others, and could be very dangerous indeed.

The rest of his group had cut a hole in the cloth veiling the back compartment of the halftrack and come to accompany Lyndon in the cover the heavy vehicle offered. Staff Sergeant Lawrence Dorne lay next to Liquid, with his great scimitar unsheathed. The man had served in Egypt before the war, guarding the Arabian oil fields, and had received the weapon as a gift from a sheikh whose son's life he had saved. At this point of the war, Dorne had already dismantled three German Tigers and a Panther with the sword, cutting through steel as easily as flesh.

"Sir, did you see which one is the Zed?" the bald man asked.
"No. He's probably the sergeant or in the driver's cabin," Lyndon asked, spraying another ineffective burst of bullets at the Germans, laying behind the dunes. "Let's see if we can draw him out… Goggles, see if you can spot the Zed, now."

Lyndon poked his head from the cover to view the battlefield, and spied a German corpse with blood leaking from his eye socket. One of Goggles' kills, judging by the precision. The Talent lieutenant reached out a hand and closed his eyes, willing the blood to flow, and take on a form. Slowly, the red fluid drew out of the dead soldier's entire body, and shaped into a snake, rearing up from the ground to strike at the Germans. Immediately, Lyndon felt a foreign force tug at his construct of blood, and, after a few seconds, let the snake fall in the sand.

"Did you spot the man, Goggles?" he cried at the sharpshooter.
"Aye aye, sir. The one in the back, lying next to the truck.
"Good, thanks." Turning to look at one of his men, Lyndon said "Well, you heard him. Do the honours, John."

Private John Wilkins was a young Londoner who'd manifested a powerful armour against any physical harm. Bullets bounced off, blades shattered on his skin, and only a couple of days ago he'd been run over by a German command jeep, only to rise up, dust himself off, and shoot the offending vehicle's driver in the face.

Wilkins nodded, peeked out from behind the cover, flinched as a bullet bounced off his forehead, and fired.
"Got the bugger," he announced triumphantly.
"Let's finish them off, then," Lyndon replied with a feral grin.

Wilkins and Dorne rose up from the cover. Wilkins mostly served to attract fire, hitting little with his rifle. Dorne (1), however, fought for the two of them, whirling with his scimitar, cutting men to ribbons, slashing through their weapons raised in defence and swiftly cutting down those who tried to flee from this scimitar-wielding terror. With his great speed, they could not properly aim with their rifles, and the few bullets shot at the Brit flew far past their mark.

There were, however, enemies left to fight. The two men from the driver's cabin had stepped out. One of them carried a submachine gun, and the other, nothing. Alarm bells went off in Lyndon's head, and his fear was confirmed a fraction of a second later as the unarmed German raised his hands, pointing them towards his halftrack. Lyndon jumped up and to the side while letting fly with a wild burst towards the German Übermensch. A shot snapped into the man's knee, and the Nazi crumpled down in pain, but not before letting fly a ball of fire that hit the halftrack's driver's cabin. The explosion blew out what was left of the windows and incinerated Goggles. He had only time for a short and abrupt scream of agony. At least his death was swift, Lyndon reflected as he lay in the sand. He'd landed heavily on metal pieces of the airplane wreckage (5), bruising his arm.

The lieutenant rose from his position behind the wrecked airplane, shooting another burst at the Übermensch, killing the German Talent as Wallace's rifle round took his escort through the heart.

The last German was swiftly dispatched by Dorne, with a quick diagonal slash across the man's chest, cutting his upraised rifle in two like a matchstick.

The battle thus ended, Lyndon willed the blood from the slain Germans to spray over the burning driver's cabin, quenching the fire effectively though gruesomely. The lieutenant was relieved to see it had not been damaged beyond use. Driving back to base in a stolen German truck would have carried the lethal danger of mistaken identity.

The plane wreck was searched. One of the pilots had died in his seat in the cockpit, and the other lay a bit way off, his chest riddled with fresh bullet holes. A gun was in his other hand, and a black leather briefcase in the other.

Lyndon picked up the briefcase, turned it over to see the military markings, and walked back to the halftrack where the others waited.
"Let's go home."


----------



## Milo Bloom

*The Gift*

Eirvar watched as the dust storm that had been blowing across the plain started to settle. He could make out some of the buildings closer to his viewpoint from the hilltop.
He looked out from his parent’s tent to the small camp of loyal Orlanthi. Like all his people, Eirvar’s village worshiped the storm god Orlanth, chieftain of the Pentian gods. Orlanth was also called the Lightbringer, as it was he who led the quest to bring back the sun god, Yelm, from the clutches of the underworld.

    The camp’s leaders had warned everyone to stay inside their tents during the dust storm. But he had hoped to catch sight of the spirit Gagarath, the wild wind that Orlanth had unleashed upon those who sought to betray him to the conquering lunar army.

     The village council had openly welcomed the lunar army into the village, after many of the village’s warriors had perished trying to oppose them. This angered their god and he brought down his wrath upon the area.

     “Come away from the flap Eirvar, there is no sense in watching. Just pray the lunar garrison are too busy aiding their priest in driving off the wild hunter to notice our flight.”

     He looked back into the tent and he could see his mothers watering eyes in the dim light of the cooking fire.

     “Where are we going mother?”

     “We head to Pavis. We have kin there we can rely on for aid and it is still a free city.”

     His grandfather looked up from his writing. “Do not worry Voria, the clan history will remember Banatos as a hero and Roha as a traitor.”

     His mother looked out the flap and to the few tents, pitched on the top of Giant’s Rest Hill. “That is not my worry, so few of us have fled the occupation. What will become of our people?”

     His grandfather, spit upon the ground. “Curse the lunars and curse their thrice damned Red Goddess.”

<hr>

     The journey to Pavis was long and many of the refugees from the village left the group to stay with relatives in other villages. Along the way to their destination they had met up with other Orlanthi who were fleeing their homes as well. All across the northern reaches of Pent, cities were falling to the conquering might of the Lunar army.

     Eirvar spent most of his waking hours talking to warriors from various villages and learning their art. A few of the villages had managed to bring some of their siege equipment with them. During one of his training sessions Halur, a warrior from a village that tried to completely resist the invaders, demonstrated the proper loading and firing techniques of a catapult.

     The end of the journey, Pavis itself was something beyond Eirvar’s imagination. Built by giants for Pavis himself, it was an impossibly large city. The current city was built upon the ruins of the original city. The sight of it gave the band weary Orlanthi refugees some small glimmer of hope.

     The soldiers at the gate looked warily at the influx of people that were pouring into their city. It was obvious from their glares that they did not appreciate the tired and hungry people entering their city.

<hr>

     Eirvar watched as the cities delegation to the lunar army returned from their meeting. He knew surrender was the only option left to the city, but it still did not remove the taste of bile from his mouth.

     Rumor had been circulating around the city of late that the lunar priests were preparing to unleash the Crimson Bat upon Pavis. Few sane men wanted to face the creature. The Chaos Bat was said to be large enough that you could fit the city of Pavis on it’s back.

     Fighting the army with such a demonic force on its side would have insured the destruction of the entire population. Eirvar recalled Halur’s tale of the bat’s destruction of his village. People by the scores were fed to appease the creature’s appetite.

     Surrender or complete destruction had been the only option left open to Pavis. None of the warriors on the walls were happy with giving over the city without a fight. The city council cautioned many of the more vocal Orlanthi to flee the city to the free lands in Dragon Pass. 

     Eirvar had already decided he would stay in the city and try to help those who would suffer under the policies set by the occupying lunar forces. Perhaps in time those who fled the city would return with an army. 

<hr>

     As Yelm readied his descent into the underworld, the streets of Pavis were at their busiest. Eirvar, warrior-thane of humakt, stalked his way through the section of the city known as the Old Towne. It took little effort to ignore the calls of the shopkeepers and beggars he passed. He had always hated this part of town and often wondered why Altonar insisted on building his temple to Lhankor Mhy here. But then the minds of Lhankor Mhy priests, the grey sages, were always more focused on their books and not on concerns such as appearances and safety. He wished that his own leaders were not so open to the teachings of the lunar’s Red Goddess.

     His trek to the destination passed with little incident and he entered the library that was the temple of the lord of knowledge. He noted several sages were gathered around a rather large skeletal bat they had laid on a black cloth. One of the initiates, a youth of about sixteen who had yet to grow his own beard, approached as he entered. 

      “Greetings sword brother, what may the sages of Lhankor Mhy do for you?”

      “I seek the sage Ilstan, he who is renowned throughout the city for his knowledge of all things relating to the God War and the Great Darkness that followed Yelm’s death.”

     He entered the stairwell indicated by the initiate and began to descend into the darkness. Calling upon the power of Orlanth’s lightbringer aspect, he triggered the lanterns that lined the staircase. Even if Orlanth’s brother had severed his ties with his divine family, Eirvar was still an Orlanthi at heart.

     He stopped momentarily at the hallway to get his bearings and headed down one of the hallways. Watching the numbers on the various labs, he stopped at the one numbered one hundred and fifty seven.

    With some care he knocked on the wooden door.

     “I’m in the middle of a very important research, I do not wish to be disturbed.”

     “It’s Eirvar, sword of Humakt.”

     The wooded food door open and an elderly man peered out suspiciously at Eirvar.

     “So it is, so it is. Do come in lad, the hour is still early and there is much to talk about.”

<hr>

     The two men spent the evening talking of times of old and the people they had known. During the evenings meal his great uncle stole several glances at a wooden box sitting on his workbench. As the late hours of the night became spent Eirvar stood as if to signal his eminent departure. 

     “I must head back to the temple shortly. There is much work to be done in preparation for the Emperor’s surveyor Jarx’s arrival. He is a noble man and has many enemies among the various lunar houses.”

     His uncle looked once more at the box on the table and reached over to pick it up. Cradling the box in his arms he looked at his nephew and gave a faint smile.

     “I know of Jarx, he is a good man and a learned one as well. His death would sadden many among my order.”

      “Fear not then Uncle, the lunar governor has appointed me responsible for his safety as long as he is in our city.”

     His uncle opened the box so that Eirvar could see what lay within. He had never seen a morning star of more exquisite craftsmanship.

     “What?” he had never known his uncle to be a man of arms. He floundered for the meaning of his uncle’s possession of the weapon.

     “It is Wonulan’s Morning Star, forged by the dwarves from true iron and contains a piece of the Block of Law in it’s handle. It is a gift that I now entrust to you.”

     Eirvar’s reached tentively for the weapon his uncle lay before him. Wonulan, Pavis’s steward who, with this morning star, defeated a score or more of the foul chaos beasts known as broo. A man who wielded this weapon could easily sway the hearts of the loyal citizens of Pavis.

     “I can not carry this Uncle. Humakt’s forbidding of blunt weapons aside, the lunar army would seize it from me in an instant.”

     “I am aware of this, this is not a gift that I give to you, nephew. Instead it is a gift I ask you to bear to another. There is a man, Arakat, who even now tries to gather together an army to march upon Pavis. Bring him the morning star and offer it to him as a sign that even now within Pavis’s walls there are those yearning to throw of the Lunar government from our lands.”

     A slow smile spread across Eirvar’s face as he understood what this would mean for Pavis as well as all the Pentian lands currently under lunar occupation. It only pained him that his grandfather could not have survived to see the day their people would again be free.

     “When do you wish for me to leave to meet this Arakat?”


----------



## Milo Bloom

The pictures are in order

City with the smoke in the first section

The man and catapult are in the second section


The bat skeleton and the man peeking out the door are both in the fourrth section

the morning star is in the final section.

I will say I set this in Glorantha as an test. I plan on running a D20 Glorantha game at some point.

Good luck to everyone.

sorry I never replied on the first round. Got very busy with Christmas stuff and errands while down in Jacksonville.


Milo


----------



## alsih2o

here's hoping ot here from wulf and mirth real soon


----------



## Milo Bloom

yes please a second win by no show will pretty much destrtoy my poor ego...or really boost it. Come to think of it that must be it my opponents are afraid to go up against my stories.  ^_^


ok now I just need to convince myself that's the truth.


----------



## Wulf Ratbane

I was hoping I would get to it, but unfortunately it didn't work out for me. 

I made an outline, made some notes, prepared "tidbits" for each of the pictures, but ultimately I have to concede.

Just too much on my plate right now with the family get-together and several different work hassles.

Ironically I think the 72 hour deadline hurt me, it didn't give me the sense of urgency I needed to get crackin'. 

If anyone's curious, I put my notes up this morning hoping I would have time to get to it after my 7 hour drive today... (www.batreps.com/images/3e/story2.pdf).

The skeleton there was screaming "Byakhee" at me, and with the desert and the weird device I was all over a tale of Cydonian madness. 

Well, obviously not ALL over it. Good luck to those moving on!


Wulf


----------



## Mirth

*mirthcard vs. NiTessine* 

*Not This $*!+ Again!* 
An Oriental Adventure for 4-6 characters of levels 8-11

*The Set-Up:*
The adventure begins onboard _The Jade Princess_, a small and unassuming vessel of the seas on which the PCs have simply booked transportation from one place to another. A fellow passenger whom the players meet on the trip is a korobokuru named Ubezaki.  What sets Ubezaki apart is that, at a small but smart 3'4" in height, he is a Blade Dancer (Fighter 1 / Sohei 8 / Blade Dancer 1) who uses a scimitar which is bigger than he is as his main weapon *(Picture #1).* 

A charismatic and jovial fellow, Ubezaki will chat at length with any party members who seem interested. Although he is most curious and friendly, easily sharing and comparing his adventures and exploits with others, Ubezaki will clam up when asked about his recent past, where he is currently heading or what his current purpose is. His mood will darken noticably and he will be quite uncomfortable until the subject is changed. Unfortunately for the party. no one else on the ship knows anything of substance about the little warrior.

At some point on the journey, a card will drop from one of Ubezaki's sleeves, unnoticed except by one of the PCs. When inspected it is recognized as a fortune-telling card symbolizing Death *(Picture #3).* If the PC returns the card to Ubezaki immediately, the korobokuru will be obviously embarrassed and ashamed that someone else has seen it. He will try to tuck the card back into his sleeve and not mention it again, but if he is pressed on the matter, he claims that it is a meaningless piece of folly from his past which has unfortunately preoccupied him more than it should. 

If the PC holds onto the card and doesn't return it to Ubezaki, they will notice that he soon becomes very frantic and begins searching for it. He will ignore all offers of help from the party and/or inquiries about what the nature of his problem is. If the card is now returned to Ubezaki, he will respond the same way as above, but will be more hostile and defensive if pressed about it. If the card is never returned to Ubezaki, then he will become quite withdrawn and sullen, refusing any conversation or interaction with anyone else.

Any members of the party who have (through good role-playing) gained Ubezaki's confidence may be able to convince him to give them some idea of what's really going on (see below). Whether they are successful or not and how much information they can glean is up to the DM.

Of course, now is when the Lung Wang Dragon decides to attack the ship 

*What's really going on:*
Ubezaki is on the run, not only for his life, but also for that of another. Several years ago, Ubezaki's wife Mariko was killed by a Shikibu No Oni, the worst sort of mischevious demonic spirit. After a long period of mourning, Ubezaki decided to appeal to the gods for the return of his wife by dedicating his life to them as a lawful and good sohei. For many years he sought to appease the gods and, in the process, he became whole again. Just within the last year, the gods granted Ubezaki's wish and sent Mariko back to him, alive. Or so he thought. 

In actuality, the Shikibu No Oni who had originally killed Mariko, a vile she-beast named ukoku, had gradually risen through the ranks of the Oni to become a sub-overlord (CR 10 monster + 7th level Wu Jen). When ukoku heard of the positive role that Ubezaki had assumed in the wake of the tragedy she had caused, she decided to bring him low by coming back as his dead wife. To add more pain to Ubezaki's pleasure, ukoku lived with him for a year before revealing her true nature, at which point she also convinced Ubezaki that Mariko was still alive. The only way that he could truly get Mariko back was to quit his religious order and take on a quest for her - bring back the fecal matter of a near-term pregnant Lung Wang Dragon. This hard ball, called a cobblestone *(Picture #4)* by some, is re-ingested by the Dragon to provide essential nutrients to the placenta for the birth process. When he has recovered the cobblestone, he is present her signature card (the Death card that Ubezaki has) to a man who is waiting for Ubezaki's arrival in the city where _The Jade Princess_ is heading. That man will contact the Oni witch. ukoku knew that it was a near-impossible task that would in all likelihood kill Ubezaki, but she relished the fact that he quit his life of peace and attempt it to get his wife back (which, of course, would and could never happen).

*The Main Event:*
Wonder of wonders, Ubezaki has accomplished his task and, at this very moment, the cobblestone is locked away in his trunk in the cargo hold of _The Jade Princess,_ with the pregnant Lung Wang Dragon in hot pursuit. As soon as the Dragon attacks the ship, Ubezaki screams out, "The cobblestone!" and makes a run for the hold. The party can try to figure out what they want to do in the scant moments before the ship is torn asunder. Regardless, those who survive the wreckage end up on the beach of a small island near to where the ship went down. After some inspection they find the tracks of the Dragon in the sand *(Picture #2)* leading toward where it is going to lay its 7 eggs. They also find Ubezaki rummaging through the washed up remains of his trunk, of which the only noticeable remnants are a few splintered pieces of wood and some iron bindings *(Picture #5)*. The cobblestone is gone.

*The End?:*
Ubezaki's only focus is on retrieving the cobblestone. He will try to frantically enlist the aid of the PCs that he has bonded with, telling them in a rush any part of the story that they don't already know. It is up to the party to try and convince Ubezaki that he can't bring his wife back. If they agree to help him, then they will be facing a pregnant Lung Wang Dragon (who is already angered at Ubezaki) getting ready to give birth (along with her seven Yu Lung Dragon offspring if they are already born). They will also face ukoku at some point as well. If they ruin her plans, she will become their enemy. If they by some miracle succeed in the original quest with Ubezaki, then she will try to kill them anyway, backed up by several of her Oni subordinates. And if that's not all, Ubezaki will probably try to attack them as well if they try to stop him. It's a mess, true, but what a chance to ROLE-play


----------



## Mirth

Um? Hmm?

The oni's name is F*U*K*U*K*O*K*U

Guess that's too close to something else 

Sorry about the lateness of my entry. I was already running tight to the deadline and then the high winds here caused the power to go off and on about 4 times in the last two hours. Which meant lots and lots of rewriting the same thing over for me    

Excuses, excuses ...

I'm tired now.


----------



## Maldur

NiTessine, great twist setting it in superpowered WWII.
It has a feel of those outragious Ben Dunn comics.


Glorantha, nice. As a occasional Glorantha scholar I have to say it delights me to see a story set in Glorantha. Im very curious how it would progress, please dont hesitate to ask for opinions when starting a D20 glorantha game.

You give glorantha a slightly different feel, than Im used to. But the spark is definately there. Good show, keep it up.


Then the adventure:  Great twist of a adventure. Yes a great deal of roleplaying to be done. alking about being between a rock and a hard place. It seems that only though massive roleplaying, great luck and a very good plan, this could end up with a happy ending for all.  Nice...but worthy of the rat-bastard title.


----------



## Milo Bloom

Admittedly I am a far cry from Stafford's skill at weaving Gloranthan tales.  Not to mention I'm sure I misspelled Arakat.

That's what I get for writing over the christmas holiday.


But thank you for your kind words. I do wish I was advancing on merit and not the fact that my opponents seems to not make the posting deadline.


----------



## Maldur

Yeah, I think  its Arkat or Argrath, but there are quit a few vaguely similar heroes on Glorantha.

Actually, Greg doesn't write the best stories. Try to find stories by Lawrence Whitacker (he usually does Ethernal champion stuff but he wrote some great Glorantha), or Nick Brooke. They write great stuff. Gregs is usually a bit metaphysical, great myth though.


----------



## NiTessine

Maldur said:
			
		

> *NiTessine, great twist setting it in superpowered WWII.
> It has a feel of those outragious Ben Dunn comics.
> *




I must admit that the idea was not entirely my own. Call it a Godlike fanfic, if you wish. I recently became quite smitten with the game system and the background fluff is nothing short of incredible.


----------



## Maldur

Looks nifty, thank for the heads up


----------



## Mirth

Maldur said:
			
		

> *Then the adventure:  Great twist of a adventure. Yes a great deal of roleplaying to be done. alking about being between a rock and a hard place. It seems that only though massive roleplaying, great luck and a very good plan, this could end up with a happy ending for all.  Nice...but worthy of the rat-bastard title. *




Wow. Rat-bastard. What I've always dreamed of  Thanks for the compliments to all three of us, very diplomatic and very appreciated. However, I'll just let you know that it is considered bad form in the Iron DM competition for anyone to make comments, good or bad, before the judge gives his verdict. alsih20 may feel differently, I don't know. I'm not trying to flame you here, just inform you 

Good luck NiTessine, BTW


----------



## NiTessine

mirthcard said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Wow. Rat-bastard. What I've always dreamed of  Thanks for the compliments to all three of us, very diplomatic and very appreciated. However, I'll just let you know that it is considered bad form in the Iron DM competition for anyone to make comments, good or bad, before the judge gives his verdict. alsih20 may feel differently, I don't know. I'm not trying to flame you here, just inform you
> 
> Good luck NiTessine, BTW  *




Thanks. I'm gonna need it... If I make it to the next round, I must make it a point to write the story while I'm fully awake...


----------



## Milo Bloom

Hopefully my last entry will give either of you a run for your money. I have to admit I've walked away from both feeling like I could have done a lot better.

The Glorantha story was as I said more an excercise in finding a 'feel' for Glorantha that meshed with my gaming style.

But as you said we should probably keep quiet until alsih2o posts his reviews. Though, sadly, I already know the outcome of my match.

Wulf, the tidbits looked good. Had you made it I think you would have won the round easily.


----------



## Maldur

When I asked AlSiH2O if i should send my comments to him, so e could use them in judging he answered I should just comment you guys in the thread. If it was a bit early , Im sorry. But Clay can make up hhis own mind he doesn't need me to assist 


But thanks for the warning.
btw Its not diplomatic, its what I intended to do
In the first round you were all a bit fast ( particulary clay) so I didn't do it in time. Im looking foreward to the next round.

Good luck, whoever wins this.


----------



## alsih2o

well, i need to know if nit is o.k. with mirthcard tardiness.

 mirthcard, good man posting even late, that shows...something 

 wulf, sorry the holiday swallowed you, if their is the interest i may get maldur to help me do another one of these in the new year.

 milo, hold on, we will clen up and get to oyu soon i promise


----------



## Maldur

You know Ill assist, AlSiH2O!

Whats gonna be the verdict on this last round?


----------



## NiTessine

alsih2o said:
			
		

> *well, i need to know if nit is o.k. with mirthcard tardiness.
> 
> *




He posted late? Didn't even notice. Sure, I'm okay with it... *paranoid look* Hm, does it make a difference in the outcome?


----------



## alsih2o

NiTessine said:
			
		

> *
> 
> He posted late? Didn't even notice. Sure, I'm okay with it... *paranoid look* Hm, does it make a difference in the outcome? *




 well, thats just stupid, er, i mean chivalrous of you nitessine 
 will have judgements up real darned soon


----------



## Milo Bloom

I would certainly be interested. Where as I'm not to terribly sure of my writing skill, I do enjoy writing.


----------



## Mirth

NiTessine said:
			
		

> *
> 
> He posted late? Didn't even notice. Sure, I'm okay with it... *paranoid look* Hm, does it make a difference in the outcome? *




Honestly, with all the power going off and on and my frenzied rush to retype everything (again and again) to meet the deadline, I wasn't sure if I made it or not. Regardless, thank you NiTessine for allowing my submission to stand.  Good luck again.


----------



## alsih2o

milo, of course, moves on....let us hope someone will eventually test his mettle


----------



## alsih2o

mirthcard vs. nitessine 

 wow. i liked both of these a lot...

 nit took on the greater challenge in my opinion. he has dropped us in an alternate version of wwII.

 i like almost everything about nits story except for the handling of the ingredients...the alteration of the beach into a desert might have worked better if we had seen only beach in the pic, but the ocean is definetely in there. a little too much liberty with the pic for this judges taste. and the cobble stone seems to have been added, instead of being an actual ingredient. the contrast is even harsher when examined next to what ointhought was an excellent handling of the swordsman, i could see the little turd chopping his way thru soldiers with firearms. i feel nit has told us the story of a miniadventure, rather than producing one or the other.

 mirthcard handled the ingredients much better in my opinion. i love the interpretation of the cobblestone and the futile bravery of the tiny swordsman. the iron box remnants are handled briefly but their importance, adn the sinking feeling of knowing something so vital is at the bottom of the ocean,  really works to make the adventurers feel for our tiny npc hero.

 mirthcard takes this round, altho it has been the toughest one to judge yet.


----------



## alsih2o

i will post ingredients for the next round as soon as mirthcard and milo chime in with a readiness call


----------



## Milo Bloom

I'm ready whenever Mirth is.


----------



## Mirth

alsih2o said:
			
		

> *mirthcard handled the ingredients much better in my opinion. i love the interpretation of the cobblestone and the futile bravery of the tiny swordsman. the iron box remnants are handled briefly but their importance, adn the sinking feeling of knowing something so vital is at the bottom of the ocean,  really works to make the adventurers feel for our tiny npc hero.
> 
> mirthcard takes this round, altho it has been the toughest one to judge yet. *




Thanks alsih2o & thanks NiTessine. I know that last round I made it by the skin of my teeth and I really liked the surprising turn that NiTessine took with the pictorial ingredients. Something I would have never thought of, since the pics SCREAMED Oriental Adventures to me. Nice work all around. I can understand why it was such a tough decision.

Now on to the undefeated and uncontested Milo. I 'm ready when you are, Mr. Bloom.


----------



## alsih2o

Championship Round: Milo Bloom vs. Mirthcard 

 picture 1: (of 6)


----------



## alsih2o

picture 2:


----------



## alsih2o

pic 3


----------



## alsih2o

pic 4


----------



## alsih2o

pic 5


----------



## Mark

Congrats to all of the participants thus far and good luck in the final round!


----------



## alsih2o

pic 6


----------



## alsih2o

gentlemen, 72 hours.

 i have tried to make it tougher each round, i hope i hit it.

 good luck!


----------



## Milo Bloom

Thanks Mark, though admittedly I would feel better about this if I had gotten this far on merit.


----------



## Alustreil

*Ceramic DM*

I have to say that everyone has done remarkably well, for this contest being over the Christmas holidays. Milo, you sell yourself short. You managed to turn out a story for round 2, even through 3 children, a pregnant demanding wife, in-laws, and errands, on top of a 6 hr drive here, and a 10 hr drive back (wooo traffic!!). 

Good Luck Everyone!!! No matter who wins the final event, the stories were all wonderful.

'lustry


----------



## Maldur

Good luck, with anotherset of pictures. 

Dang the're hard. What the hell are those things i the first pic??


----------



## alsih2o

*Re: Ceramic DM*



			
				Alustreil said:
			
		

> * even through 3 children, a pregnant demanding wife, in-laws, and errands, on top of a 6 hr drive here, and a 10 hr drive back *





 wow, and i had to put off judging to deal with a puppy. man, do i feel lame.


 i think next round will go better, not on the holidays and a 3 poster judging panel


----------



## Milo Bloom

Good luck Mirthcard, hopefully you will have more time to get your submission written.


----------



## Mirth

Milo Bloom said:
			
		

> *Good luck Mirthcard, hopefully you will have more time to get your submission written. *




Thanks, Milo. Good luck to you too. I've enjoyed your submissions so far. However, I consider it my mission this time out not to let you default into the winning position, so look out


----------



## alsih2o

the time is more than halfway up...are you more than halfway done? hmmm?


----------



## Mirth

These ingredients make my brain fart.


----------



## Maldur

NOOOOOOOOO!!!!  

Dont give up, you can do it!!


----------



## Ravellion

mirthcard said:
			
		

> *These ingredients make my brain fart. *



I see what you mean. It was easy for me thinking up plots with the previous sets. But 1 and 3 seem so incongruous with the rest that it is going to be quite hard to mix them all.

Rav


----------



## alsih2o

14 hours....i hope noone is planning a hungover post


----------



## Milo Bloom

*Almost Done*

I moved to Florida on a whim the day of the contest. Spent the last little bit getting settled in. Should hopefully have my story done in the next 3 hours or so. Should be cutting it just under the wire.


Milo


----------



## alsih2o

official 2 hour warning


----------



## Mirth

*mirthcard vs. Milo Bloom* 

*The Dance of Lifey Death* 
An non-combative adventure for 4-6 characters of any level

*The Set-Up:*
At dusk, as the party is traveling on a road through some hilly countryside, they spy a small group of people dancing in a line *(Picture #2)* along a ridge above them some distance away, going in the same direction as the PCs. Although the people seem quite obviously animated and perhaps even jovial, no sound issues forth from the group with the exception of the melancholy drone of a flute played by a cloaked figure who is leading them. None of them (including the leader) seem to take notice of the PCs, no matter how much noise they make or how they try to get the dancers' attention. 

If the party attempts to make their way up the ridge towards the dancers, they will soon find that the climb is rockier than it had first appeared. To add to the difficulty, no horses can make the trip and the light is fading. Those PCs who have the ability of flight, teleportation or can traverse rocky terrain with ease, will find that the dancers (although appearing to be slowly dancing) move with an unnatural speed and always seem to be just out of their reach. The PCs can more easily follow the dancers by staying on the road, which runs parallel with the path along the ridge that the dancers are taking (although the dancers do stay a bit in front of the party the entire time). 

Eventually, the party will hear the sound of approaching hoofbeats behind them on the road. Slowly coming into view is a ragged, bonethin horse with a rider that looks much the same. (If the party has decided to travel in the opposite direction of the dancers, then they will have this encounter a little bit sooner.) The rider's hoarse throat calls out in the direction of the dancers, but it is hard to make out the words. As soon as the man on the horse realizes that the party can see him, that they are not a part of the dancing group, he will become quite frantically ecstatic and spur his mount towards them post-haste. 

If the PCs decide this is an attack, they can kill or subdue the poor b@$t@rd with ease. If they do not, the man will drop from his horse, landing hard on the ground, in front of them. He will struggle to his knees and begin pouring out a hoarse, throaty litany of who he is, all the while begging the party for help. He will refuse any healing or comfort, constantly watching over the party's shoulders for the progress of the dancers in the distance, wanting to get out his plea but not wanting to lose sight of them.

The wretch's name is Harun, and he has been chasing the Dance of Lifey-Death (as he calls it) for longer than he can remember. His mother Eustice and his mentally-challenged son Robard have been taken by the Angel of Death and are being lead, dancing, to the Underworld. Eustice and Robard felt that they were a burden to Harun, so they committed a joint suicide to save him from having to take care of them. Soon after Harun found their bodies in his home, his body froze so that he could not move. A naked woman entered. Harun could only see her feet as she bent over the bodies of Eustice and Robard and made them rise from the dead! After they left the home together, Harun's body was free from its magic hold. As he rushed outside, he could see Eustice and Robard joining the dance as the naked woman, her ornately tattooed back *(Picture #4)* turned towards him, pulled on a cloak and took out her flute to lead the Dance of Lifey Death. He has been in dogged pursuit of them so that he may rescue the pair from their doomed fate. He begs the party over and over to help him, going so far as to grab at their legs and try to kiss their feet. 

How can the party refuse such a pitiful and pathetic plea?

*What's really going on:*
The majority of Harun's story is true. Eustice and Robard are dead and they are being lead to the Underworld, but they did not commit a double suicide. Instead, Harun selfishly killed them because they we becoming too much of a burden to him. His pursuit of them is to ease his aching conscience. His doomed fate is to pursue them over and over and over again (neverending, much like Sisyphus) until he can admit to himself that he was the one responsible for their deaths. The party are the ones who will hopefully bring about this conclusion, thereby ending Harun, Eustice and Robard's suffering.

The other part of the story that is different from Harun's interpretation is that the woman is actually the Angel of Love and not the Angel of Death, as Harun speculates. She knows that Eustice and Robard are the innocent victims of a horrible crime committed by Harun and she is actually leading the entire group of dancers to the Otherworld (Beyond Life), not the Underworld (Death), as Harun speculates. Anyone in the party can try to make a Knowledge (religion) check to figure out who she is. The DC is 35 if they are just going by Harun's hasty description of the tattoo, however. If they get the chance to actually see the tattoo in the flesh  then the DC drops to 20. 

*The Main Event:*
Once the party has agreed to help Harun, they can continue in their pursuit of the dancers. They will soon come to find that the path of the dancers and the party's road converge - the combined path leading through the open trunk of a tree whose roots emanate from either side *(Picture #5).* In the half-light of dusk, Harun and the party watch as the dancers and their leader enter the trunk and disappear! Once all of the dancers are gone, a deer crosses on the other side of the trunk, showing that the path still continues there. 

This is the gate to the Otherworld. Once the players decide to cross through the trunk (from either side, it doesn't matter), they will continue along the path into the Otherworld. The surroundings in the Otherworld are the same once they come out from the tree trunk, with only the subtle difference being that dawn is rising rather than dusk fading (DC 15 on Spot check). The dancers are nowhere to be seen and it may take a bit of time before the party realizes they are in a different place. A solid clue (pun intended) is that the tree they came through is solid now. No matter how the party investigates, there is no going back. 

Anyone with tracking ability will notice that the path here looks much more heavily traveled than the one that they were on before. All of the tracks lead towards and over a hill in the distance. Harun will bound forward toward the hill calling to the party to follow. When the round the top of the hill, they will see a man standing off the path next to a stone marker with a hawk resting on top *(Picture #6).*

"This one cannot go any further, for anger and blood are his mistresses" intones the man with the hawk as he steps in front of Harun, "his place is not with us and neither is yours. Peace is our only weapon," With that, the man points at Harun and he falls to the ground, comatose. If the party checks, Harun is fine but cannot be stirred or awakened. 

If the party decides to attack the man, he will pull a highly decorative shield *(Picture #3)* from under his cloak and proceed to engage the party, fighting defensively. It should be obvious to the party that he is not trying to kill them, although he will try and subdue them if he can. The man should be of sufficient experience and skill to give the party a struggle, but not so strong that he cannot be overcome. The hawk who will do constant, annoying flybys to try and impede the party's combat. The shield is magical and will help his effort at defense, however if the party defeats the man, the shield should not be an overpowering item for them to have. If they kill or defeat the man, the hawk will fly down the hill (squawking loudly) towards a weird looking village in the distance - a mish-mash of strange, contrasting bits of architecture *(Picture #1).*

If the party decides not to attack or break off their attack with the man, they can try to explain themselves. The man will listen to them and if they are truthful, he will then say, "Those you seek lie in the valley below," pointing to the weird village. At which point, he will step aside and let them pass.

*The End?:*
The party can find the Angel of Love, Eustice and Robard in the village, which is the final resting place of those of many cultures who are pure at heart. If the party tries to parlay with any or all of the three, they will find out the true story of Harun. They can then return to him, at which point the man with the hawk will revive Harun. If the party can convince Harun of his true role in Eustice and Robard's deaths, they will be allowed to leave and the Angel will reassure the party that Harun will be dealt with accordingly.

The other conclusion is, without question, the wrong one. If the party reaches the village only to attack the Angel or any others, they will find that no one will resist and they can slaughter to their heart's content. Of course, that negates their ever leaving this place. As soon as the Angel is killed, the Otherworld begins to darken quickly, the plants begin to die, the buildings crumble and all hope fades for those remaining.



OOC: Happy New Year!!!


----------



## Milo Bloom

*Agendas*

Jean watched the area below from his vantage point atop the building as Mikal stashed the package he had been carrying. He had a good view as the large ball-like fountain was currently off so that the drains could be cleaned. He considered putting an end to the man’s life. If control hadn’t been so insistent that determining for whom the amulet was intended he would do just that. Kent had been very clear that even more so than now that he should avoid any incident that would require extra effort to cover up.

     The implant in his ear clicked as the familiar sounds of Elise, control’s sentient computer, brought his link online.

      “Target lock confirmed. Initiating psionic awareness sequence. Standby for data influx.”

     Jean felt his mind expand, and he was aware of every living organism within the area around his vantage point. As his brain adjusted to the new sensory input he began to separate the humans from other creatures.

     He sensed Mikal slink past a group of round structures that comprised the parks offices. After a few moments of sifting through the people in the area he detected the two men coming from the opposite end of the park and heading towards the package.

     “Control, we have pick-up confirmation. Should I engage the targets?”

     “Negative, scan targets and continue to center one one three dash six.”

      “Roger control, scan and bolt confirmed.”

     Once again the orders issued by control defied all sense of logic. Jean knew enough to guess at the package’s importance. Allowing it to be taken by a rival faction could cost the organization several decades of maneuvering. He could only assume control sensed a greater return by allowing the drop to take place. Grimly he took out the pen-like pocket scanner and aimed it at the first of the two enemy agents.

     “Target one scanned. Transmitting data results now,” the scanner’s electronic voice chimed in his ear.

     From what he could tell as the data flew past his eyes the first agent was outfitted with standard enhancements. The scan on the second agent revealed that he didn’t seem to be equipped any differently. Their muscle and speed enhancements were hardly a match for his own augmentations. 

     After the two agents had made their pick-up and exited the park area, Jean removed himself from his vantage point and headed for his motorcycle. A short time later he sped away into the afternoon Los Angeles traffic.

<hr>
     Jean stepped through the main entrance to the do downtown Los Angeles library. The main area was less crowded than normal for this time of day. He moved towards the rear of the library heading directly for the rare books section. Once he reached the shelves that held the collection of rare works, he scanned them for a specific text. Pulling the book from its resting place, he flipped through its pages looking for the illustration that would open access to the hidden passage. It took little time to find the page with picture containing a road running through the trunk of a large tree. Placing his forefinger on the image of the deer standing within the hole cut by the roadway. He registered the slight hum of the circuitry within the page as it scanned his DNA sequence.

     The shelving in front of him slid back slightly and then rotated on a center axis. Reshelving the book he entered the security tunnel that led back into center one one three dash six. As he cleared the door it resumed its original closed position and security scanners moved over his body searching for any tracking devices that could have been secreted on his body.

     Kent was waiting impatiently for him when Jean reached the command chamber. He noted the monitors were currently displaying a scene from somewhere in one of the former Russian states. A group of farmers were walking through their fields moving to investigate an object that crashed to the earth.

     “I don’t suppose it occurred to you that as soon as possible meant just that? You finished scanning those two agents almost three hours ago, I sincerely hope the delay was for something important.”

     “Sorry about that, I had to pick my daughter up from dance class and make sure she made it to her friend’s slumber party.”

     “Ah yes, a man should always make time for his family. You just never know when a given moment may be the last one you have to spend with them.”

     “What does control have on the agenda for me now? Is there some child they need followed or perhaps a nun’s personal belongings they need me to rifle through?”

     “Nothing so glamorous, we need you to head to Kazakhstan and pick up an item of great value to our plans. Once you have it in your possession, make your way across the border to the Russian city of Novosibirsk. I will meet you there to receive delivery of the package.”

     “How soon until I leave?”

     “We have you scheduled to arrive at your target location at oh nine hundred hours. Don’t be late and remember to dress for the occasion.”

     “Understood, now if you will excuse me I need to start packing my gear for this little excursion.”

<hr>
     “Thirty seconds to drop point, Jean. Prepare for HALO jump.”

     “Roger that. Suited up and ready for target zone.”

     The ground slid by at a dizzying pace as the craft moved at speeds unattainable by conventional vehicles. Jean smiled, knowing that there would plenty of reports of an unidentified flying object tonight. Fortunately, no one suspected the truth as to the origin of the strange craft that sometimes plied the night sky.

     The pilot’s voice cut into the silence of the bay, “Target zone reached. Drop bay opened.”

     “Exiting bay door in five…four…three…two…one. ”

     The rush of air brought on a fleeting sense of freedom, and Jean closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy it. Seconds later he was opening his chute and descending gently to the earth.

<hr>
     Even in the early morning light he could make out the shadowy outline of a man standing beside a small boulder ahead of him. Sitting on the rock next to the man was a large falcon that gazed at his approach with something akin to interest.

     Nothing to do but make contact with him and if he is his contact pick up his delivery. If the man was nothing more than mundane, he could easily be taken care of.

     “The sunrise around here is absolutely amazing. I really should visit your country more often, but my business rarely takes me here.”

     “We try to please our tourist in every way possible. I must say it is not often I am allowed to be of service to the organization.”

     “Your english is very good, spend time in the States?”

     “Learned it in Germany, actually. I’ve been on assignment here for the last five years, looking for this.”

     With that the man pulled out a large round object wrapped tightly in protective material. He didn’t bother to offer it to Jean, just rested it on the rock next to his bird. Jean crossed the distance and offered the man his hand palm down to facilitate the ident process.

     “There is no need for that, you are known to me.  I have followed your movements within the organization.”

      “I’m flattered someone has followed my career so closely, though I am curious as to why.”

     “I only became interested after your assassination of Princess Diana made it look like the media was responsible. Not only that but you maneuvered Charles into a position where we had greater control over him.”

     “That’s probably the only assassination I had ever done that received large amounts of media coverage. There was some fear afterwards that the organization would be exposed because of the scrutiny that the remains and crime scene received. Things could have easily gotten out of hand if not for the massive diversion of information that was done.”

     “A monument to the control we exert over the forces of society. But I am keeping you from your duty at hand.”

     Jean loaded the package into the waiting jeep and turned back to the man.

     “Thank you for your service to the organization, I’m sure Kent appreciates it as well.”

     After a flash he was speeding away from the meeting area heading for the Russian border. The falcon was flying in a slow circle around where he had left the man.

<hr>
      The Russian countryside fell away as Jean raced his vehicle towards Novosibirsk and his meeting with Kent. He doubted Kent would be as pleased with the results as he was anticipating. He was sure the delivery could wait until this evening after he had taken care of a few things.

     The hotel room was dark and the smell of liquor and cigarettes hung in the air when he entered. In the dim light he could distinguish two separate people lying in the bed still sleeping. Creeping across the room he noted the smaller of the two shapes breathing changed and it became restless.

     Slowly he eased himself over Kent’s sleeping body and gently rested his gun on the pillow next to his head. As the smooth plastic touched his skin his eyes bolted open and he stared into Jean’s eyes.

     “Jesus Jean, you scared the hell out of me.”

     “Evening Kent, why use me for your personal project? Did you think I was so used to following orders I wouldn’t suspect anything?”

     “No it’s not that at all, gently now Lynn let’s not encourage him to remodel my skull just yet.”

     Jean flicked his eyes at the woman; she had slid out of the covers and was sitting on the edge of the bed. The tattoo on her back caught his eye with its intricate circular pattern and Chinese characters. He thought it looked like something of a map as he eased the gun away from Kent’s head, facilitating the shooting of her if needed.

     No one moved or breathed during the next few seconds, until Kent broke the silence.

     “Nice and calm Jean, you wouldn’t want anything to happen to that lovely daughter of yours would you? Lynn could you get the photographs please, that way we can get all this hostility out of the way.”

     The women slid from the bed and reached for a packet sitting just next to the television. She opened it and set the contents where Jean could see the photos of his daughter.

     “She is a lovely girl, and should grow into a beautiful women as long as her daddy does as he is told. Where is the shield?”

     “I’ve hidden it.”

     “How very smart of you. I suggest you bring it tomorrow to the park across the street and hand it over.”

     “I could kill you both now.”

     “You could, but then who would stop that terrible accident from befalling your precious little girl?”

     Kent knew he had Jean, his shoulders slumped and he looked at the photographs with a hint of sadness in his eyes. The pistol lowered and was soon residing back in its holster.

     “Tomorrow then, do try not to be late. It could cost your daughter much more than the latest gossip from her friends.”

<hr>
     Kent had obviously not been there long when Jean arrived at the park. The women from last night was obviously hidden somewhere nearby. He tossed the shield onto the grass in front of Kent, who bent slightly to inspect the roman artwork encircling the large bulbous center. 

     “Exquisite. You will, of course, tell our masters that as of this moment I quit?”

     “I will make them aware as to the state of your affiliation with the organization.”

     “Understand it’s nothing personal, I’m just tired of all this sneaking around behind the world’s back. I will, of course, keep my mouth shut about everything I know. In fact, I plan on disappearing from view entirely and living out my years in relative comfort.”

     “I’m sure they will understand. You have what you wanted. Call off your assassination and run for all you are worth.”

     “I’m afraid I can’t do that just yet. Not until I am safely away and can be sure that you are not going to follow.”   

     Kent scooped up the shield and took a few steps towards the street, only to turn halfway back.

     “You realize I could have you killed now. I’m not going to, a girl needs her dad when she’s growing up you know. Look, I’m really sorry for using you the way I have.”

     Lynn had disengaged the cloak suit she was wearing at this point and Jean could see the rifle cradled in her hands. She faced him as they headed towards a waiting car, and he noted that the rifle never left his chest. As he watched them go, he idly rubbed the stone in his pocket. He almost wished he could wait until he was sure they had opened the secret compartment in the center of the shield. There wouldn’t be time for that; he had a plane to catch back to Los Angeles. As Kent was opening his door and starting to enter the car, Jean pulled the stone out of his pocket.

     “Kent!”

     Both heads turned his way and he saw the shock in their eyes when they realized what he was holding. He allowed himself a smile; if they thought that was bad it was about to get worse. Slowly he raised his other hand and opened it enough they could see the trigger. 

     The next few seconds became nothing more than a blur of motion and reflexes. He darted to the side as the woman fired off several shots in his direction. Kent was starting to throw the shield away from him. Sadly neither of them appeared to have any augmentation to aid them. He pressed down on the detonator he held and watched as the shield exploded in Kent’s face. The shards ripped through both people standing next to the car as well as shredding most of the vehicle.

     Picking himself up from the ground Jean looked to make sure that the mundane casualties had been minimal. He was sure that this would be harder to cover up than most of his actions, but well worth it. His masters would be most pleased with the small stone he carried in his pocket. After all, it wasn’t every day one of their agents recovered the philosopher’s stone.


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## alsih2o

photo finish! simulposting with 1 minute left!!!


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## Mirth

Man, was that a b!+ch or what?   

I could've tightened mine up some more, but I was afraid of going overtime again. 

Good luck, Milo!


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## Milo Bloom

Just under the gun there. In order we have 

picture #1 in the opening section.

picture #5 is in the library

Picture #2 on screen in the center

Picture #6 is Jean's contact

Picture #4 is Kent's partner in the hotel

picture #3 is in the final section.


good luck mirthcard. I will have to check to see the final verdict later tonight or tomorrow. Same here on the tightening of the story. Next time I should be happier with my submissions as I won't be moving 350 miles around writing.


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## Mark

I am impessed with the entries _and_ the timing...


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## Maldur

Very close, very slick 

Like both stories! Hard to choose. 

Ill have to reread them when Im not so tired.


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## alsih2o

as for the judging...


 well, here we have a battle of styles AND content. medieval adventure vs. modern spymastering. and you guys thought you had it tough with the pictures!

 in the order they were posted-

 mirthcard sends us off on the rarest of adventures-no combat. mirthcard has handled the ingredients extremely well, finding uses for each without any of them particularly stretching the parameters set up by the images. every time an image arises i can see why a publisher would choose the images form the story the pictures represent as the illustrations.  

 i worry somewhat about the possibility of a party stuck in his otherworld indefinetely, but any party that goes that far probably deserves that and worse. i also would have appreciated a little more mechanic to explain the spirits staying just out of the parties reach, as most players are going to try and test this kind of limitation.

 milo sets us in a black-ops world and drops us into the story without much background, leaving us to feel our way in and to try and understand the characters more slowly. i was a little disappointed in some of the handling of the ingredients. the picture of the deer through the tree that move the library shelf could have easily been substituted for any of the other ingredients and that left me feeling a boit cheated.

 i like the inclusion of the philosophers stone element, but would have given a higher score if the  story would have hinged more on the ingredients instead of just including them. a pretty good story, but i think it falters more than once in the handling of the writing making the pictures important enuf to be the illustrations for the story.

 all considered i think both are strong standing alone, but within the parameters of competition mirth card comes out ahead.


Winner- Mirthcard 

 congrats and thanks to all who participated


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## Mark

Congrats to both on a fine final round!


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## Mirth

alsih2o said:
			
		

> *as for the judging...
> 
> 
> well, here we have a battle of styles AND content. medieval adventure vs. modern spymastering. and you guys thought you had it tough with the pictures!
> 
> in the order they were posted-
> 
> mirthcard sends us off on the rarest of adventures-no combat. mirthcard has handled the ingredients extremely well, finding uses for each without any of them particularly stretching the parameters set up by the images. every time an image arises i can see why a publisher would choose the images form the story the pictures represent as the illustrations.
> 
> i worry somewhat about the possibility of a party stuck in his otherworld indefinetely, but any party that goes that far probably deserves that and worse. i also would have appreciated a little more mechanic to explain the spirits staying just out of the parties reach, as most players are going to try and test this kind of limitation.
> 
> milo sets us in a black-ops world and drops us into the story without much background, leaving us to feel our way in and to try and understand the characters more slowly. i was a little disappointed in some of the handling of the ingredients. the picture of the deer through the tree that move the library shelf could have easily been substituted for any of the other ingredients and that left me feeling a boit cheated.
> 
> i like the inclusion of the philosophers stone element, but would have given a higher score if the  story would have hinged more on the ingredients instead of just including them. a pretty good story, but i think it falters more than once in the handling of the writing making the pictures important enuf to be the illustrations for the story.
> 
> all considered i think both are strong standing alone, but within the parameters of competition mirth card comes out ahead.
> 
> 
> Winner- Mirthcard
> 
> congrats and thanks to all who participated  *




Wow. Thanks alsih2o. 

I'm the Ceramic DM. That's so cool. (As an aside - my wife is a potter who has studied at Penland, has a BFA in Ceramics from East Carolina University and just finished in December a MA in Teaching Art from Western Carolina University. She's not a gamer, but is very supportive and it's kinda weird after all this time trying to get into and win the Iron DM that I actually end up winning the first Ceramic DM.)

Thanks for the great competition Milo. Your story was really well done and I enjoyed it tremendously. Yours was so stylistically different from mine - it's always interesting to me to see the varied ways that the elements provided end up being used. 

Now for a little exposition. When I first saw the pics I immediately had a problem with #1 & #4. I couldn't tell WTF #1 was, and #4 just didn't fit thematically. I put those on the back burner. 

#2 brought to mind Ingmar Bergman's _Seventh Seal_ (actually Woody Allen's _Love & Death_ that pays homage to Bergman was my first thought) and _The Dance of Lifey Death_ is the title of a great comic by Eddie Campbell that I swiped. 

That combined with #3 made me plan on using some elements of classical mythology, combining the stories of Perseus and the Medusa (brought on by the mirrored shield in _Clash Of The Titans_) with the story of the woman who is turned to salt as she looks back on her way to the Underworld. I'd make her be turned to stone by a medusa instead.

Once I had those elements in place, then #5 would be the entrance to the Underworld and #6 would be a guide who lead the heroes to the tree. Now what to do about #1 & #4. 

I was so stumped by #1 that I skipped it again and decided to see if  coud find out what the script (japanese?) on the woman's tattoo actually said. Jumped on the web and looked up the Malu Tattoo site that is credited in #4. Turns out that the woman who owns Malu Tattoo is named April Love. Tried to look up what the characters in the tattoo mean, but wasted alot of time and decided instead to change the medusa to the Angel of Love, inspired the artist's name. 

With that decision, all of the backstory of Harun, Eustice and Robard came pouring out (partly inspired by two of the people in #2 as well). Switched around #3 & #6 to make them fit. Now back to #1. That was my weakest element. I just couldn't figure it out, which is why I made it a village in the Otherworld. That kind of crazy architecture would fit on another plane of existence, right? (What is that pic anyway, alsih20???)

If I'd given myself a little more time to work all of this out, I would have added more about the Angel of Love and how the party would have interacted with her. I probably would have given the party another out as well, although I'm not sure how. I think I would have played up a confusion about the Angel of Love possibly being a medusa instead, bringing back my original use of that element. But, as always, I pushed the deadline and had to let things fall where they may. Luckily for me, that worked out.

So thanks again everbody. You too, Mark and Maldur for the encouraging words. Now I'm off to change my sig line to something suitably obnoxious 

Jay


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## Mirth

Sig has officially been changed


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## alsih2o

mirthcard said:
			
		

> *
> (What is that pic anyway, alsih20???) *





 no clue, it has been on my drive for a while now (i have a rather large base of pics i draw inspiration from) it looked to me like giant versions of what some of the mudwasps around here do, and i am fond of firing their nests


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## Milo Bloom

What can I say in defense of my story? Not a whole lot really when it comes down to it. I entered the competition on the admission that by nature I am a fitful writer when it comes to stories. When I do write it tends to poetry and not actual fiction of any type.

     As to the nature of the story and it's tone it came about rather oddly. I happened to be in one chat or another and someone was talking about the Illuminati. That stuck a little in my head as I initially sat down to write the story. I scrapped that idea in favor of something more Victorian. As I packed some of my toys I happened upon my "I've been Illuminated" Illuminati button. I took that as a sign and back I went to the story. Throughout that day I continued to write and pack.

     Now as I said, I was initially heading down to Florida on the 1st of the year. As I wrote and packed on the 30th I was struck by the desire to spend New Years with my family. So I finished packing my belongings, loaded the dogs and headed 350 miles south.

    Once I set down to write it was still in fits around during everything else on my list. So the story seems to have come out sounding very rushed. Some of the ingredients were slighted but the shield, tattoo, and crowd were supposed to be central. Late last night the crowd got deregulated to the screen in the control room. That left the tattoo and shield as central plot devices. The shield was the housing place for the stone so in reality it was supposed to be the main plot device. The tattoo was supposed to be the key Jean used to unlock how to open the shield. But that paragraph apparently got lost somewhere while dealing with my children.

     The other major problem I think is I was not blatant enough in detailing the particular picture. Given the nature of the story paying attention to any detail would have seemed wrong somehow.


      Congratulations to Mirthcard for keeping me from feeling like I cheated my way to the final round.


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## Mirth

Milo Bloom said:
			
		

> *Congratulations to Mirthcard for keeping me from feeling like I cheated my way to the final round. *




Thanks Milo. And congratulations to you to for coming through with entries over a jam-packed holiday. I own a retail business and have an 11 month old son, but that pales in comparison with what you had going on. You deserve quite the pat on the back for what you were able to do given the circumstances. Happy New Year!


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## alsih2o

mirthcard said:
			
		

> *
> (As an aside - my wife is a potter who has studied at Penland, has a BFA in Ceramics from East Carolina University and just finished in December a MA in Teaching Art from Western Carolina University.  *




 for those of you not in the craft world 'know' penland is looked upon with the same level of respect as harvard or m.i.t. in other fields.

 and milo, we are doing another soon, i am sure oyu can get another crack at this particular brand of greatness


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## Mirth

alsih2o said:
			
		

> *
> 
> for those of you not in the craft world 'know' penland is looked upon with the same level of respect as harvard or m.i.t. in other fields.
> 
> and milo, we are doing another soon, i am sure oyu can get another crack at this particular brand of greatness  *




Here's the homepage for Penland if anybody wants to know more. We live pretty close to the school here and try to get up there to visit when we can. (BTW, be sure to look here for some cool pics of the school and its surroundings. God, I love living here in these mountains.) They have the coolest Easter egg hunt I have ever seen. Basically, you use whatever craft/medium you want to create an egg - clay, metal, fabric, paper, etc. - bring that with you for them to hide and then you get to hunt with everyone else for eggs that are, for the most part, extremely unique and well-crafted pieces of art in their own right. 

What's funny is that Penland is known around the world as one of the preeminent craft schools in existence, yet I would say that the majority of people who live here around it with us in the Blue Ridge mountains of NC have no clue that the school even exists. Same goes for Black Mountain College, which was here in my hometown from the 30s through the 50s and served as an extension of the Bauhaus movement and was the focal point for a highly influential group of avant garde artists like Josef Albers, Robert Rauschenberg, John Cage, Robert Creeley, Buckminster Fuller and many others. 

I've tried to convince the family that owns the land and buildings that Black Mountain College was on (it is now the home to Camp Rockmont in the summer and the Lake Eden Arts Festival or LEAF in the spring and fall) to give tours to art scholars in the off season. The family is pretty ignorant of the history of the college anyway and seem completely uninterested in promoting it at all. It's sad. The neglect for the arts and their history in this country is going to come back and bite us on the @$$ in the future, I'm afraid. Sorry, I didn't meant for this to turn into a rant.

To get us back on track - I am glad to be the Ceramic DM and I hope to come back and defend my title when the next one rolls around. I expect to see you then, Milo


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## Maldur

Well done Mirthcard, a deserved victory. I might even run the adventure

Milo I would love to read more of your magic vs High tech spyworld. great stuff.

AlSiH2O tough judging there well done. When can we see the next ceramic DM contest?


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## NiTessine

Congratulations, Mirthcard. Nice to know that at least I lost to the winner...


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## Sammael99

Well done everyone and congratulations to our favorite potter ! 

alsih2o, I imagine you'd know Dave McKean ? If you don't (or even if you do) there's lots of interesting pictures for future runs of the game here : http://www.dreamline.nu/

Here's a sample :


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## alsih2o

Maldur said:
			
		

> * there well done. When can we see the next ceramic DM contest? *




 if there is interest, when there is interest 

 we need one more judge and 8 willing writers.

 i am thinking of a slight tweak to the rules, wherein thru pics contestants are given a where, when, who and a what.

 anybody out there wanna help maldur and i judge the next one? you must be pretty darned free with your time, have a good sense of humor and be willing to place fairness and the growth of the writers above your personal load.

 any takers?


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## Mirth

Maldur said:
			
		

> *I might even run the adventure*




 That's high praise indeed, Maldur, thanks. Let me know how it turns out if you do.


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## Sammael99

alsih2o said:
			
		

> *
> 
> if there is interest, when there is interest
> 
> we need one more judge and 8 willing writers.
> 
> i am thinking of a slight tweak to the rules, wherein thru pics contestants are given a where, when, who and a what.
> 
> anybody out there wanna help maldur and i judge the next one? you must be pretty darned free with your time, have a good sense of humor and be willing to place fairness and the growth of the writers above your personal load.
> 
> any takers? *




Can we contribute piccies too ?

Oh, heck, i'll volunteer anyway...


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## alsih2o

Sammael99 said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Can we contribute piccies too ?
> 
> Oh, heck, i'll volunteer anyway... *




 i don't know about all of this...2 europeans and me...sounds like my inner redneck may start to come out and emberass me


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## Maldur

hehe, inner redneck. That may explain the checkered shirt


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## Mirth

NiTessine said:
			
		

> *Congratulations, Mirthcard. Nice to know that at least I lost to the winner...  *




Thanks NiTessine. I couldn't have done it if you hadn't let me slide on the time thing. So BIG thanks, I guess.


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## Milo Bloom

My internet access is somewhat limited right now but I will definitely submit for the next contest. If someone could be so kind as to PM Alustreil on the boards or on psionics.net for me.

I should be back online full strength by the end of the month.

Maldur, I have on occassion run an Illuminati game. I have tried both grim and gritty like my story or a more light hearted approach. In both cases my players have enjoyed a world where everything is a just another wheel in some plot. I have one or two stories I am currently working on. A fantasy piece and a modern faerie tale. ^_^

Congratulations again to Mirth and everyone else who posted. I really enjoyed the stories that were written.

Next round I will have to pay close attention if the pictures are illustrations for the story or plot devices. I operated under the assumption they were simply illustrations for the story and did not need to be main plot devices.


Cheers, 

Milo


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## alsih2o

Milo Bloom said:
			
		

> *
> Next round I will have to pay close attention if the pictures are illustrations for the story or plot devices. I operated under the assumption they were simply illustrations for the story and did not need to be main plot devices.
> *




 well, this was our first time doing it, but i feel that the best illustrations are the ones that show "major bits" of the story. frequently i think the best example of this is childrens literature 

 as for p.m.ing you, someone may be kind enuf to do it, but with the tradition of first come first served that iron d.m. has built i think the as a judge i would feel odd doing that. you are more than welcome  i am just saying i would feel odd providing anyone but the winner of the previous round a gauranteed slot in the next


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