Posts: 7,155 - May 2011
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Scribe's Contest XII - Winners!
Winners of Scribe's Contest XII: Malevolent Mariners
Just like all the other rounds, we had a neat turn-out of entries, with submissions spanning from pirate action to bloody murder and catchy songs. It was great to see such written upon dry Orc-skin parchment!
No doubt the texts were all written in spilt blood with trembling hands, or carved into the skulls of foes.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, the winners!
Entry #3: Fuggit Khan (1st)
It had been a long journey, the Tilean thought to himself. Years ago he found a treasure map inside a bottle that washed up on shore...and it was signed by Captain Stonebeard, a notorious Chaos Dwarf pirate who disappeared decades ago. Legends spoke that he was dead, his treasure hidden in a cave with walls of gold.
The map was crude, it could be any island, in any sea. But the glass bottle itself was a clue, it was embossed with a brewery name. Years of searching had led the Tilean to find the brewery in a small northern seaport, and sitting in the brewery pub, drinking grog, was a Hobgoblin wearing an eye patch. The pub owner said that the Hobgoblin was a smuggler, who knew the local sea better than anyone, if anyone could find a hidden island, it would be the Hobgoblin.
Looking at the map, the Hobgoblin said he knew where to go, and as payment, the Hobgoblin asked the Tilean to pay his bar tab, and buy one more bottle of grog for the journey.
Hours later they arrived at a small rocky island, the Tilean eagerly exploring the sole cave. But he quickly realized that the walls of the cave weren't gold, they were iron pyrite, "fools gold". And then he saw it, a stone statue of a Chaos Dwarf...with only one eye.
Calmly, the Hobgoblin spoke:
"Dat's Stonebeard hisself, sorcerers curse, turned 'im to stone. First mate I was, Master he still is. He's dying word, keep his treasure secret, keep et safe. And fer loyalty, he gave me he's Daemonsmith eye"
The Hobgoblin took off his eye patch, revealing a prosthetic copper eye with an arcane rune. With one glance of the eye, the Tilean fell over dead, his soul ripped from his body and bound forever to the iron pyrite walls of the cave.
"Fools gold" the Hobgoblin casually remarked, as he took the treasure map from the dead hand of the Tilean.
He then uncorked the bottle of grog that the Tilean had bought him for the journey, drank it down, and then deftly rolled up the treasure map and sealed it inside the empty bottle.
After paying respects to his stone Master, he tossed the treasure map bottle back into the sea...his smile revealing his sharp copper plated teeth.
Entry #5: Uther the Unhinged (2nd)
Heimgrall looked at the blood slowly congealing on the deck. The assault, when it finally came, had been short and brutal. The few soldiers falling to the guns of the pirates. Even the Windsinger mages’ spells had died as they left his throat. That was before a bullet had taken the left side of his head. Heimgrall wondered blankly if it was his blood he was watching.
They had spotted the ship two days previously. The captain knew what that dark smoke on the horizon meant and had fled before it. It had been futile. The terrified passengers had watched their pursuers’ slow and inexorably gain with horror.
Heimgrall felt rather than saw the pirates stiffen. He looked up from where he was kneeling. The dwarf in front of him was heavily armoured, like the other Zharr Vyxa pirates. Yet his armour was trimmed with bronze and gold. Intricate runic designs decorating each scale of his brigandine.
The dwarf turned his head to study Heimgrall. The golden deaths’ head mask regarded him impassively
“My lord. We are only refugees, Take our valuables but let us live and you will have our eternal gratitude.”
The dwarf tilted his head.
“We do not want your baubles.” His voice was deep and tinged with humour. “We do not want your ship. We do not want your gratitude. We just want you.”
Slavery! Heimgralls’ last hope flickered and died. Images of whips filled his mind. Tears filled his eyes.
“I will never serve you!” The voice came from further down the line of kneeling prisoners.
“You may break my body but never my will. I will never serve you!” It was Adrithan, the young blacksmith.
The dwarf chuckled richly.
“Oh, you will serve. But don’t worry. We don’t need your body, or your will. I told you. We just want you.”
The dwarf raised the strange pistol that he held and fired.
The prisoner grunted. He looked in surprise at the small dart lodged in his chest, the long wires trailing from it and the pistol. Then he began to scream.
Heimgrall screwed his eyes closed to shut out the violet glow from those wires. He could not shut out that sound. The sound that clawed at his sanity. The sound of a soul being torn from its body.
The screaming was to last a long time.
Entry #6: Ikkred Pyrhelm (3rd)
A Daughter's Birth
Picks crunched and tore into stone as the slaves worked. The cruel masked overseer watched on as they worked, dark eyes seeking any who faltered. A meaty hand clutched a barbed whip even as other slaves moved around him, carting off mined minerals to the forges.
Hammer struck blazing metal again and again. An army of smiths ceaselessly worked ore into thick plates of blackened steel, great beams and curved ribs. Amongst the smiths robed priests moved from line to line, growling benedictions to Hashut. Every now and again they would pause and carve hateful runes upon the metal.
Within the drydocks the skeleton was formed of a mighty ironclad by teams of workers and slaves. Some perished as they worked from accident or malicious intent, their hot blood oozing into the young bones of the ship.
Upon his altar the Daemonsmith intoned the final rite of summoning as his acolytes took their blade to the throat of the sacrificial bull. It kicked and thrashed as its lifeblood oozed over the brass chased and runic etched wheel. From the still shuddering bull came a faint wisping smoke that coiled and curled with an almost hungry intent. The lights in the altar chamber then died one after the other and a scratching noise that emerged from the smoke turned into an inferno roar as the smoke erupted into the shape of a great daemonic bull of flame that poured into the bloodied wheel.
Bellowing Hellcannons, deprived of their wheels angrily tried to thrash in the chains that hoisted them into position upon the dark iron deck. Teams of Dawi Zharr engineers ran from cannon to cannon, fixing them to the decks even as the daemons roiling within them snarled. Great batteries of rockets and cannons too were erected and fixed to the decks and gunports, each one overseen by a growling forge master.
The brackish waters frothed and hissed to the touch of the ironclad as the drydocks were slowly opened to the sea. At the helm the shipmaster ran a stony hand through his beard before placing it almost tenderly upon the wheel. A low gurgling hiss was his response, the daemon within tasting and touching the ship that too was its body. Savagely smiling, the shipmaster gently turned the great wheel and the ship curtly obeyed. A ship made of pain and fury now let loose upon the world.
1st Place - Gold Scribe Winner: Entry #3 - Fuggit Khan
2nd Place - Silver Scribe Winner: Entry #5 - Uther the unhinged
3rd Place - Bronze Scribe Winner: Entry #6 - Ikkred Pyrhelm
Also, an honourable mention to Hashoooot
, Reaver of Uzkulak
, who all trailed bronze by one vote. Tough and even voting this round! Should anyone have received a Scribe's Veteran Medal by entering 5 Scribe's Contests, please PM me.
The Entry Key!
You can share your love for each entry (found here) by donating slaves to the owners of the entries!
01 – Gargolock
02 – Hashoooot
03 - Fuggit Khan
04 - Reaver of Uzkulak
05 - Uther the unhinged
06 - Ikkred Pyrhelm
07 - Admiral
08 - Jasko
09 - Jackswift
10 - Abecedar
Slaves and medals are incoming! If you wonder how many votes your entry received, PM me.
And now for the Gold prize, from Zanko
. The Gold winner receives one unpainted Daemonsmith
The winner will be contacted shortly via PM or E-mail.
A big "thanks" to everyone who participated and voted!
Please post the entries as new threads (or posts in your own threads) in the Stories and Background section
of the CDO Forums.
That concludes the twelfth instalment of Scribe's Contest. It is a most valuable addition to the growing mass of Chaos Dwarf and Hobgoblin culture texts accumulated on CDO. Well done, everyone!
Next up: Artisan's Contest!
News on CDO: Artisan's Contest XXVIII - Voting Deadline 20th of November ... Etsy shop
And thus there was Chaos. And Squats. Hobby Group Auxillia Work. On Dark Tides. Miscellaneous Commercial Sculpts. Flayman Tutorial.
Chaos Dwarf Writings: Fables. Songs. Proverbs. Quotes. Monumental Inscriptions. Religious Texts.
There's fourteen ways to skin a dwarf. Chaos Dwarf Warband Rules. Ninth Age concepts.
This post was last modified: 05-02-2019 03:56 AM by Admiral.