The Endtime Story Competition
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Author:  Aicanor [ Fri Dec 12, 2014 2:26 pm ]
Post subject:  The Endtime Story Competition

The Endtime Story Competition

The End is always a Beginning. Many of us are still reeling from what the End Times brought to the Elves. We know the story Games Workshop gave us in their limited hard back full colour End Times book of Khaine.
But what is your story? Let us on Ulthuan.net know!

We thereby announce the writing competition of our very own.

The guidlines are quite simple. Write a story happening during the End Times. It has to feature Asur in some way (not neccessarily as main protagonists, but in a meaningful way). Alternative universe (different outcome) stories are acceptable as long as they are not mere wishlisting (we will send those right to the North to an Immaterium entity known under many names, most profoundly Santa Klaus).
If you wish to participate, publish your story in the Story Telling forum in a separate thread named:

ESC (for Endtimes Story Competition ;-)): Name of the story

Post a link to the story in this thread. You may also add a short comment.

What is at stake?

A title of Ultimate End Times Chronicler.
Nice thematic banner to put into your signature.
And of course, fame amongst the Asur and beyond.
We reserve the right to give out more titles if situation warrants.

The stories can be submitted until 11th January. After that, on 12th January, voting will be open for two weeks (ending on 26th)). Every voter will be able to vote for any number of the stories s/he enjoyed.


The Last Shadow Warrior

The wind was cold off the waters of the Great Ocean. A clingy icy hail that stung flesh and hardened cloak. He breathed slowly; the air before him turned to white vapor with each escaping breath. He could hear the gulls now; their shrill cry echoed near and far, lonely and desolate in their repetition. Land must be near.

The Yvressi captain was on deck and slowly approaching him. The elf’s face was drawn with too little sleep and too much worry. He came to a stop beside him. “Any news?” he asked the captain.

The captain stood there not saying anything for several long seconds. Slowly his head began to shake in the negative. “Nothing. Just the same as before. The birds are carrying the warning. Just like in ancient times.” His voice was strained and his eyes were distant as he spoke. Slowly, he said, “’Turn back. Seek safe harbor elsewhere.’ That is all the signal says. But it is for all ships. All merchants and ships of the fleet. I…I do not know what it could mean.”

Howls for the Phoenix
Karalael Moonsinger

Hunters. Death. Burning. The wind carries the scent of these to the beast. Ahead. A crack of the forest floor. The strain of a crossbow already loaded. Fools. This is the beast’s forest, the beast’s domain.

The fear of the beast’s mortal heart is overcome by its immense rage. Its hunters will soon become the hunted. They will know the wrath of the Amber Wolf and know that they are nothing but prey.

“This is impossible! How are we supposed to track the Traitor Wolf of Tor Lupa? The tainted bastard knows this land better than any of us. Plus his other abilities…” The complaints belong to a young elf barely two centuries, who swiftly cuts off his bitter outburst under the baleful gaze of the Druchii leading the party.

“We’ll find him, because the Phoenix King wants all the nobles who didn’t declare allegiance brought to him to discover why. He’s especially distrustful of this one, he has ties to known traitors. So we find him. Keep searching the trees.”

A Land Scorched in Fire

“Like it or not, you are still a prince of Caledor...which has seceded from the Phoenix Throne. You must decide.” Althran blatantly stated, and looked at those standing on either side of him before continuing. “Imriks' messenger is awaiting a formal response, will you sign the letter?”

Kendrik sighed and scratched his neck, feeling the long scar that ran up over his jaw and to his right ear. His straight white hair was long and rested past his shoulders, contrasting brightly upon the dark red robe he wore during these formal meetings in the hall of his ancestors.

The scar had never truly healed properly and felt lumpy with scar-tissue; a mere half an inch more and the Druchii blade would have taken his head.
His mind flashed to the deck of the Dragon ship 'Sunblade', one of the two that had been in the center of the Asur formation. The other carrying Tyrion himself... part of an assembled fleet to hunt a Druchii Ark: the fortress barges that roamed the sea and raided as it pleased.
Though that day had been its last to which it found its way to the ocean floor. And would rest there for eternity.

The Folly of Vengeance

The ground grated and groaned as Ulthuan rattled its death into the seas. The Vortex had fallen as Loec had foretold and now all that was left was the mad scramble to rescue as many elves and as much of Ulthuan’s treasured heritage as could be loaded on to hastily scrambled ships or sent through the pathways of the Worldroots to Athel Loren. The Phoenix King and Everqueen had deployed as many of their agents as they dared, though remarkably no elf, neither Druchii, Asur or Asrai had refused the seemingly suicidal request and all around the Ten Kingdoms Black, Phoenix and Maiden Guard worked in furious concert with Asrai Spellweavers and captains of ships from Naggaroth and Lothern and though the seas had begun to swell in elemental madness the heroism of elven seafarers did their forbearers justice. Eventually tales would be told of valiant Sea Helms leaping into thrashing waves to pluck up Khainite brides before they surrendered to the terrible riptides or ruthless Corsair pirates dashing through Yvresse villages, helpless children wide-eyed with terror carried over both shoulders and swaddled in sea dragon skins.


A Reflection




What is this?

It was a jarring sensation, normally there was a distinct beginning to things, but the thoughts and awareness rather felt like they had just jumped into the middle. Could there be a middle without a beginning? Or did the process turn the middle into the beginning?

Already it was getting jumbled again. It returned to the point it could focus on.

What is this?

This thing in front of it was something it could focus on, could use to position itself, as the liquid world around it began to slowly solidify into shapes it recognized.

In front was where its attention was when it came too, suddenly, without the end in sight. In front of it, it could see…see…see…something? See something…see what?

New Steel

As the first fingers of morning spread over Avelorn, a lone figure trudged mechanically on into the shadows of its forests. Gaunt, blood-spattered and barely clothed, the traveller’s golden mask seemed wholly out of place. Behind the grinning daemon’s visage lay an expressionless face and dulled eyes. Scarcely a year ago, she had known power, wealth and fame, and revelled in every vice that they could bring. Now, Malendris was barely a shell of the gladiatrix whose arena performances against traitors, beasts and monsters had thrilled the baying crowds for decades. She had not slept for days, and her movements betrayed the weight of an empty soul, one that had lost all purpose.

The Fallen

The earth was dusty and dead where the remnants of the elves stood.

At the centre of the line Jaerith shifted in his ithilmar plate, ignoring the stifling heat. Far above their heads the morning’s plain gray sky had become twisted and cruel, a broiling darkness that mocked their defiance. Even the ground seemed to have taken the side of Chaos, for it was nothing more than a mess of blasted dirt and cracked, broken ground that would not bleed.

Jaerith looked up at the great banner he held in one hand as it began to stir. The blue Phoenix of Tor Nayel had been still and lifeless all day, for there was not so much as a breath of wind in the air. Until now, that was. Now, the Frostheart Phoenix that had been Jaerith’s friend for so many years began to flap its wings one last time.

End of the Rainbow

Aicanor Nenuvar stood on the balcony of her ancestral home in Saphery, looking far onto the debris filled waters of the port far below. She remembered the day not so long ago when the Sea of Dreams boiled over with tentacled monstrosities, dragging sailors and fisherfolk down to the hungry depths of once beautiful bay. Before the day was over, they found some of the demonic creatures as far as at foot of the tower on top of which she stood.
Then the harpies came. And after that...

Author:  Makiwara [ Fri Dec 12, 2014 8:39 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: The Endtime Story Competition

Oh for sure challenge accepted.

Author:  Headshot [ Fri Dec 12, 2014 9:28 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: The Endtime Story Competition

Can the winners have their names changed to a different color? Say like a nice fuchsia? Or a Mace Windu violet?? :D


Author:  Karalael Moonsinger [ Fri Dec 12, 2014 10:13 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: The Endtime Story Competition

Well, I should really finish the beginning of Karalael's story, but it might be nice to have a goal to be getting to. I'm in.

Author:  Prince of Spires [ Fri Dec 12, 2014 10:56 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: The Endtime Story Competition

Headshot wrote:
Can the winners have their names changed to a different color? Say like a nice fuchsia? Or a Mace Windu violet?? :D


Loremasters are all guys. We see (and therefore know) 16 colors. Fuchsia isn't one of them. A Fuchsia is a plant. And Mace Windu a star wars character. As a rule of thumb if it isn't in the below picture then it's not a color.


Aicanor might know what's you're talking about though.


Author:  Aicanor [ Fri Dec 12, 2014 11:13 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: The Endtime Story Competition

Magenta is a color in between red and purple or pink and purple. Sometimes it is confused with pink or purple. In terms of the HSV (RGB) color wheel, it is the color halfway between red and purple and is composed equally of red and blue (50% red and 50% purple). Another name for magenta is fuchsia, named after the fuchsia flower.

This colour is one of the three colours of ink used by an inkjet printer, along with cyan and yellow. The tone of magenta used in printing is called "printer's magenta" (Magenta (CMYK)) and it is shown in the colour chart below.

The first written use of magenta as a colour name in English was in 1860.]

So you need this one:


(Source: Wikipedia)

Author:  Larose [ Fri Dec 19, 2014 10:00 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: The Endtime Story Competition

A rather interesting ploy to get us writing again... =D> I see what you did there Aicanor.. :lol:

Author:  Makiwara [ Sun Dec 21, 2014 11:26 am ]
Post subject:  Re: The Endtime Story Competition

C'mon guys and girls, we've got four stories and many more talented writers than that on this forum! Join the fight for the survival of the elves and give us all more great fluff to read!


Author:  Davariel [ Sat Jan 10, 2015 7:40 am ]
Post subject:  Re: The Endtime Story Competition

Oh wow, is it bad that I only just noticed this?

I may have to try and write an entry in the next few hours... :shock:

Author:  Aicanor [ Sat Jan 10, 2015 9:17 am ]
Post subject:  Re: The Endtime Story Competition

Well, hurry up then! You have until the poll is up on 12th. Or just post for a fun of it later. Good story is always welcome. :wink:

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