Greetings Everyone, The submission period for the Visions of Amareth Midterm Short Story contest has ended. We have 10 entries for the Pox Nora community to vote to decide who will be the 3 finalists. Above is a list of the titles for each short story along with the author. The full short storys from each author can be found in the following 10 posts on this thread. The community voting period will be open until January 4th, 2016 12PM PST (3PM EST, 8 PM UTC). Short Stories A Field Report, By: Bellagion A Medic's Penance, By: Gwyndionnz Grace of Xulos, By: Ifem21 Intrusions, By: Eadbusta Killer I Am Not, By: gamengamenut Maelstrom of Hate, By: Skullferno No Man's Land, By: badgerale Proof of Power, By: peolinen Stirring the Wind, By: mortal ix Unleashed, By: Silfeed One of theses short stories will become part of Pox Nora cannon, so be sure to take into account which ones you would most want to become Pox Nora lore when you are voting. For full details about this contest please view the official Visions of Amareth Midterm Short Story Contest Announcement. We wish the best of luck to all the contestants!
A Field Report By: @Bellagion Special Instructions for Messenger: to be brought to the immediate attention of the Circle; do not open; do not stop for any reason ~~ C/O: Highlord Darius Memo: Report & Letter of Resignation Since the Nefari incursion, grief has become familiar to us all—as you are well aware, I’m sure. It was no different for me and my companion, Gretling Farbearer, another ranger of no particular renown. Gretling and I had, in our time, become quite close to the elves in our unit, and on the day that the traitors moved on K’thiras we lost several in routine patrols throughout the forest. Stung with mourning, and unable to bring ourselves to return with the dreaded news to our superiors, Gretling and I made camp in a small clearing. We dared even to kindle a modest fire and huddled in grim-faced silence for a chance at sleep. I cannot say with confidence what hour it was when I saw the light. I remember only that it was dark and, not wishing to rob my companion of his rest, I alone stumbled towards the source. I came upon a glade, a place familiar to many as home to several ancient treefolk, and there I heard a chant unlike any I had ever heard before. Bodies I could make out only vaguely, but they seemed to be Nefari and our own traitors alike. Their cries rose into a hellish din, and just when I had resolved to run and save my ears, an enormous fire rose up in a tower before me, and the whole grove was obscured in every direction with smoke. The next thing I saw I do not think I will ever be able to unsee: an elf who looked just like Gretling being borne by two of the Circle’s own Enforcers towards the fire. His cries curdled the blood within my veins, and I started up with dagger drawn. Too late, however, as I realized before I ever cleared my cover. The elf was thrown forward and his body consumed, gear and all, and then I saw in the fire the outline of an enormous tree, horrible but beautiful. The flames seemed to harden before me into the bark of a fully grown Gnarlwood, one as red as the fires of Sheoul itself. There amidst the flames I saw, and I swear by the Ranger’s Code, the face of Farbearer staring back at me, his eyes and mouth no longer writhing but pained and empty as death. I immediately ran from the place, but the traitors heard me and struck me down with magic. My consciousness failed me, but somehow I awoke the next morning by our original campsite. Battered and broken, I gathered myself together enough to check our tent. Gretling was nowhere to be found. As I tried to recuperate enough to leave that awful place, the smell of burnt wood filling my nostrils, I noticed on the edge of the campsite something glittering in the dirt. It was the Farbearer family signet ring—intact, but singed, its inlay now gray with ash.
A Medic's Penance By: @Gwyndionnz The odour was always the same. Whether from war or mine accident, the stench of gut wounds always made his stomach turn. “By the light!”, the old medic thought, “The North Cross has been pushing the wall builders too hard!” The young miner was feverous. Navin opened the stained dressing, gagging at the sour vapours, and froze in shock at what he saw. Surely Xulos’ thrall had not been around here? He knew they were digging all across Poxanthru in search of relics, but he had heard of no encounters with the wastes this close to the mine. As he studied the wound more carefully, he sighed. The collapse may not have been an accident. The evidence was unmistakeable - a festering, inhibited wound that he could not hope to heal. Only a divine touch could save this lad, and the last time Navin checked, he was no god. He gazed at the young miner’s face. He knew the boy would suffer for days before he finally passed. Reaching deep into his bag he brought out a rarely used herb mix. In small doses it was a powerful, but risky painkiller. Navin mixed a large dose. Pulling the lad up, he slowly trickled it into his mouth, taking long minutes to administer the full dose. The boy’s breathing eased, slowed, then stopped. Navin sighed again. He had never done such a thing, but he was old and had seen too much suffering. “What is this?!” Navin jumped, spilling some of powdered herb. He turned to see two templars towering over him. One bent down and snatched the herb packet from his hand. “If I’m not mistaken, and I rarely am, this is Silah’s remedy! Let me see the boy!” Navin was dragged away from the body and the Templars bent to look. “Dead”. “Yes, quite dead”, agreed the other. They turned their attention to Navin. “He was a recently recruited and desperately need militiaman for us, ‘Medic’,” one hissed. “I should execute you on the spot for murder and treason.” “Wait, my brother! I think I know of a more appropriate means of penace….” Thrown into the brig, then transported to the front lines, Navin didn’t resist his fate. Head bowed and feet dragging, he faced his death with apathy. Basic training consisted of an ill-fitting helm dropped upon his head and a chipped axe thrust into his hand. He was placed at the very front of the militia’s line. As the Draksar advanced he thought of his wife, Alys. She had been his life and his heart, but had died in the recent plague, his healing skills mocked by death. Suddenly a smile graced the old medic’s face and joy filled his eyes…. The faithful in militia said Navin was taken by the light, gloriously charging the Draksar, atoning for his crime and single-handedly breaking their lines at the price of his life. The truth was that one thought had spurred him into battle. ‘I’m coming Alys’.
Grace of Xulos By: @Ifem21 -"These new lands we conquered, so much to be explored... Dozens and more dozens of tombsites waiting to be raided, all of them full of artifacts. Today, we've found a Graveyard, a perfect place to settle and do my research. Some living folk complained about digging the bones of their dead ones in there, stating that their souls will never rest in peace if we do it, that it's disrespectfull. Useless objections, what good are the corpses to the living? I can make better use of them than anyone else, I am the Great Undead Sage after all, and now, that Serkan is no more, this Forsaken Wastes are under my command, and as such, I demmand everything to be digged, searched, raided, and everything found I want it brought at me. My reasons can be unclear to them, some may think I'm going mad, maybe I allready am... The Blood Soulstone, have you ever heard of it Tachrim? A Stone that can hold the soul of someone trapped into the void, and bring it back to our world at cost of thousands of lifes. An artifact so powerfull that the old gods couldn't destroy it, so they hid it in sacred lands, protected by seals. Take a look arround my old apprentice, what do you see? ~ Ruins of fallen monasteries, temples, palaces, and even some castles. Have you ever thought why we have such things in here? Why the Paladins of Al'Mara were defending this place so much? The reason is why I'm here personally. I guess you allready figured it out at this point, the reason of everything I did. Some may think I want the Stone for finding Serkan, but i don't care about him. My reason to search for the artifact is personal... I need someone back to me, I WANT someone back to me... Maybe if she comes back I may fell emotions again...I can fell myself alive, human, with a heart. Oh my dear Caetian, there is an elegance in death, and my aptness allows me to make it even more beauty. Your rotting flesh will matter no more. I will retrieve the Soulstone, the Void is not the place for you. All the Elsari Humans will give their lives for it, I will make it so... Your place is with me... Together... Living the afterlife in eternity..." - Diary of Xulos, Abandoned Ironfist Border, tombsites expeditions ~ day 34 "Note: If I'm succeed at it, Tachrim, you will never ever hear of me again... I entrust to you this book, and all my researches."
Intrusions By: @Eadbusta ”What’s that scent?" Wrarlic’s nose twitched, and he yanked his head up towards the sky, trying to catch a second whiff. "Coming from the east, but what is it?” It reminded him of the snow rhea -which was ripped and split into several lumps and pieces- in front of him. But there was something foreign about it, something… Unnatural. It made him curious as to what it was, but a weird tingle in his gut made him a bit uneasy. He buried the remains of his meal in the fresh snow, sheathed his dagger in its scabbard and began following the trail of aroma. Wrarlic took another sniff, trying to determine how close he was to his target. Considering the head wind; he measured the distance to the source of the smell to about two kilometers. He picked up the pace to a jog. Unencumbered by the deep snow, and with completely silent steps he made way across the white dunes at a speed considered inhuman in such terrain conditions. But Wrarlic was no man, he was one of the Tundra! He took pride in listening to the silence of his footsteps, and he thought of his ancestors. The ones, whom the Keepers resurrect memories from. And that reminded him. Wrarlic had been here once before, he recognized the mountain range towering up in front of him. He touched back into his mind once again, and remembered: ”The Spirit Valley!” It was where his tribe had gone to say farewell to the ones passing, and free their spirits from their bodies. In any other context, Wrarlic would have been thrilled to meet with the old ones. But as he drew closer to his goal, what he smelled hindered any positive feelings. It smelled of death and rotting flesh. That alone would not trouble him, it was that other smell. It reeked evil. ”Could it be? Where the rumors going around the tribe true?” Wrarlic hoped not. As he crested the last mound, and gazed down into the valley, he was greeted with what he feared would be true. Hundreds of skeletons, -both human, beast and indistinguishable- flocked around the graves, clawing through the snow to reach the bodies underneath. Wrarlic had heard news of jakei graves being plundered, but never had he imagined it happening to his own. As he watched, his mind filled with rage. ”How dare they desecrate this sacred place with their filthy hands!? My ancestors deserve more than this!” Wrarlic let out a thunderous roar, and charged down towards the undead. He plunged into the ranks of bone with fang and claw. The undead did not fight back; they moved mindlessly to each grave, carrying away corpses, oblivious to their attacker. When Wrarlic had ripped the last one in two, he fell to one knee; exhausted, questioning. ”Why? Why have they come here?” As he panted heavily trying to regain his breath, his nose twitched again. This time, the stench was very familiar to him.
Killer I Am Not By: @gamengamenut "The shot, it shouldn't have missed. The plans, how could they know? All i wanted was to stop this madness, Brother killing Brother, all because they have been touched by the flames of Sheoul. The endless stalemate is tearing the Forest apart. But none of that matters now, it has failed and now i'm a wanted man. I cant even return to my previous life. Perhaps the Circle will not attempt to find me in the frozen lands of the Savage tundra, just perhaps." These thoughts haunted Brias as he gripped his coat closer to his body in an attempted to shield it from the elements. The frosty air bit into his exposed hands as he huddled into a grove of an old Oak tree, the thick bark and wooden frame taking away most of the frigid sting. "Snow? this far into K'Thir? i must be imagining things, it will all get better tommorow" were the last thoughts as Sleep fell unto Brias as steadily as the snow that drifted down and settled on the blades of grass below. As he awoke, much of the floor were a shimmering white. The old oak he had used as a shelter has begin to take on the vestige of an icicle. Unraveling his tightly bound cloak Brias moved through the shallow snow towards the indomitable Borreal cliffs. All he knew were that the height and steepness of these cliffs made it nigh-impossible for anyone to scale it's towering girth, but there are jakei with the gift of flight that may take him in if he brought offerings of peace. But his hopes were slim. "Better at the hands of a jakei than a member of the circle" Brias thought to himself as he hefted his small bag on his shoulder and journeyed on towards the Frozen North. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Joh-tu lifted secured his spear onto his Owls back as he glided high above the Borders of K'Thir and the Shyron caverns. Patrol duty has always been a huge snore for him, but being a Junior member of Ju-ya's flying crop he really had no choice but to take what his superiors throw at him. Not that it bothered him much, as him and Maverick (his owl) enjoyed the peace and quiet high up away from all the fighting and clutter of battle. As Joh-tu surveyed the splendor of the Tundra, he spotted a small figure far below the cliffs. With his well-trained eye for seeking out the disgusting undead attack groups he could tell that this was no skeleton. An Elf? His curiosity got the best of him as Joh-tu grabbed the reigns of Maverick and dove towards the lone wanderer.
Maelstrom of Hate By: @Skullferno The deafening roar of the cannon’s impact nearly made the young salaman deaf. Splinters and bone fragments shredded the surrounding crew and what remained of the decks ran red. The ship shuddered once again. Cries of agony and mercy now haunted the very air. “Sorry m’lads. You have to understand this is just good business.” ,wheezed a grisly voice from the starboard side of the ship. Lightning cracked the sky above and illuminated this voice, showing an old tortun in a black captains outfit. His leg was mangled and replaced with a peg, and his right eye was scarred and blind. “Now where be your weapons little lizard?” The salaman tried to speak, but only blood came out. “Oh tis a shame.”. said the pirate as he drew his pistol. BANG “Bring me my bokors”, wheezed the pirate. “Tis be a long night of work ahead of us. We can’t be disappointing the new bosses now can we boys?”, laughed the pirate as he turned back to the sea. His face now illuminated by the flickering flames on the water and the harmonious cries of pain. Far away, in a distant land sat a figure clad in armor resembling dragon’s scales. “Soon this world will know the face of god.”
No Man's Land By: @badgerale Brias had been on the run for a week now, ever since the arrow he had shot so true had missed and Menelaus had escape his fate. Somehow he had evaded the angry mobs, baying for his blood, and the silent rangers, tracking his path, and made his way to this southern forest. Soon he would brake out, into Forglar and, with luck, escape on-board a Tortun trader. He noted that the air had become dryer here, with a bitter taste to it which clung to the back of the throat. Brias told himself that this was a good sign, and that any change in the air meant he was approaching the boundary of the forest and then out into lands where the power of The Circle does not hold sway. This continued onward, and the further he went the more the atmosphere changed. The bitterness to the air had become greater, and his breathing became laboured. Looking about him, even the trees seemed different here – paler, the leaves more brittle. To reassure himself Brias reached out to pat the trunk of a nearby oak, but the bark fell away at his touch – breaking into a thousand ashen fragments which drifted away slowly into the air. He drew his hand back in shock. There was something wrong with this place he knew, but he could not afford misgivings, and so he once again told himself he was on the right course. Soon he saw what he was searching for – the treeline was ahead, and beyond it a vast, white, open sky. He rushed forward to gaze on life beyond the forest. He found himself looking from a ridge down into a vast valley. It was not the edge the forest, for there was trees, but they were desolate: shriveled, stunted, and burnt white, or else they were merely blackened husks. Above them the whiteness of the sky was not clouds, but a cloud of ash, which rose in snaking tendrils from the valley below. Suddenly it struck him, he knew where he was: it was The Seared Forest. When the mouth of Sheoul had opened, this area – for miles upon miles – had been engulfed in flame. It was now a no-man’s-land, and off limits to his kind. He could not be here, he decided, and turned from the ridge. As he did so he noticed movement in a nearby tree. Amongst the husk of dry bark and singed leaves, a shape began to form and smoothly slide from the branches. It was only as it stepped away from the broken tree that he could see it clearly: a curvaceous feminine body, skin the color of charcoal, hair of singed moss, wide green eyes. He stood mesmerized as she approached. Those deep green eyes seemed to get deeper still, deepening to brown, and, when she brought her face to his, and her delicate sharp teeth to his neck, they turned to black.
Proof of Power By: @peolinen Zaleria stared at the moon, hoping for its light to suffice. She was to meet with Maura, a Mysian necromancer - her guide to the underground tunnels linking Lake Quietus with Emerald Lake. Her wish to become a Croma would soon become reality. This mission was everything, providing Tachrim kept his part of the deal. As Xulos 's words were still echoing in his mind, Tachrim was struggling to find a way to prove himself to his Master. How could Xulos underestimate him that much? A single stroke of luck gave him the answer – a small piece of paper on his desk, words written with blood and bound by strange magic, revealed one of Master's hidden plans. Zaleria had once again proved herself as a powerful ally inside the Convent. The enchantment wasn't strong enough to resist her divination skills. Xulos was after a powerful, forsaken relic, buried in the depths of Emerald Lake. A strange hiss broke the silence as Maura appeared from the dark waters of Lake Quietus and approached Maura. " Is your spell ready for this descent ? ", she asked Zaleria, her words more ironic and dramatic than expected " Let's get this over with. ", Zaleria replied, whispering in a mystical language, and dove into the waters. The spell allowed her to breath underwater and she easily followed Maura, deep into the lake. Gratefully for her, as she resented water, soon enough they reached a cavern. "Now you shall proceed alone, my path ends here. Follow this map and remember: darkness is not the only thing residing in this caves", said Maura, turning her back. "Aren't you forgetting something? ", shouted Zaleria, as she still needed one final thing from the necromancer. Maura wailed in an incomprehensible language and five skeletons appeared beside Zaleria – her underwater digging crew. The path was set, she thought as she started walking with the skeletons along side her, hoping for no surprises. Only to be proven wrong a few minutes later. A strange, human, dead body appeared on her path. The body itself was not strange at all, as the Mysian were known to feast on human flesh from time to time, but its right arm was glowing scarlet – quite the contrast it made with the total blackness of the caves. As she drew closer, she realized it was letters written on its flesh, letters in blood, carved like the most morbid tattoo. The language was unknown to her, even though she had read such notes on human flesh before – on Bloodletter victims. "An elite Underdepths expedition must have been sent here ", she thought, hoping they weren't after the same goal. She kept walking the caves, chills running up and down her spine. For the first time in her life, she was afraid...
Stirring the Wind By: @mortal ix In the name of the queen, we have come for the skypiercer. Two imposing figures with sashes around their waist, decorated with the royal insignia stormed inside the headquarters tent. Inside the tent was a large table covered with maps and figures. Eilan, tall and lean of figure and Kairen, muscular and stout stood on each side of Juya as the soldiers stormed inside. Neither of them seemed startled by this, they were discussing in hushed voices. In the name of- One of the soldiers started.. Eilan motioned quietly with a finger to his lips in a manner that made the enraged soldier fluster and bow his head. The first wings were beings of authority, and they knew how to address soldiers. The other soldier would have none of it and bellowed. Juya, you have been summoned by her majesty in person.. Juya looked at him, his heart froze as his words died down. I did what I did for the survival of the tundra, she said with a dark voice. I have bled for our majesty and our beloved capitol, and will do so again. But if you think I will simply come quietly as a snowmaiden. You are sorely mistaken. Eilan put two fingers to his lips as he whistled and out of nowhere came 4 winged jakei, all clad in armor and armed with massive halberds, or sky spears as they called them. They held up their weapons as if to motion they would not harm the soldiers at the same time as they walked imposingly closer and closer. Forcing the royal soldiers to leave the tent. They will come again, Kairen warned with his booming voice. It was odd for such a small jakei to have such a voice. It cant be helped, Juya responded. J'orea was wrong to exile valassa. Those creatures needed to be stopped, why cant she see that. Has she become so weak that no prize will be too high for victory? If no one stands up to her, the tundra will become a dictatorship with the shardseers as religious heads of state. We cant let that happen. As the two spoke, another jakei stormed inside the tent, that was quick, Eilan said jokingly, didnt think you would be back so soon. We are under attack, the royal scout yelled. The queen is attacking? Kairen asked in disbelief. No, the jakei crumbled down as he fell to his knees, tears welling from his eyes, not the queen..
Unleashed By: @Silfeed They walked through the mountain pass with little to no rest. The prize was so close that you could feel it, sense it, but not see it. The expedition was in its 3rd month with no results to show. “No more, much longer, we keep this up.” “Quiet. It might scare ‘way.” “Escaped us 4 times already. It fast.” The nids kept walking on. 4 months ago, a couple of them began to have a strange feeling in them. It was hard to explain because it was not an increase or decrease in their power. For a month it bothered them like a splinter in the mind until it was agreed to seek the source out. The mountain passes, as treacherous and dangerous as they might be, were the least of their worries. Stormflyers patrolled the skies as if they were lost. Cyclonic feshes' tore through mountains as if possessed. To the nids, there was a familiarity to this source. After another hour of searching, the group decided to rest. During this rest, a creature launched itself at them. The headshrinker attacked with the intent of wounding the creature, but something interesting happened. The creature instantly died. The headshrinker attacked another one getting the same results. The pack leader decided to test this strange phenomenon but was unsuccessful. After everyone in the group tried as well, it was concluded that only a few could invoke this ability. Particularly those of a lightning nature. Whatever this thing was, it only benefited those of that nature. The headshrinker looked around. By now, this thing would of teleported or disappeared but for some reason, it stayed. “It here.”
The Public Voting period for the Visions of Amareth Midterm Short Story Contest has ended. Congratulations to @Bellagion , @Skullferno , and @badgerale for being the three finalists. These three remaining short stories will be reviewed by Desert Owl Games' staff and a select number of community members to determine the winner. A big round of applause and thanks for @Gwyndionnz , @Ifem21 , @Eadbusta , @gamengamenut , @peolinen , @mortal ix , and @Silfeed for submitting short stories. All of the submissions were great, too bad we can only have one winner. Best of luck to all of you, and it will be great to see all of you participate in the future.
Ty everyone who voted on me. Congratulations to the winners, all stories are great. Ty DoG for the contest, was really fun.
