G4 Writing Contest Thread!!

Wyrmrest Accord
Ladies and Gentlegnomes! In honor of <Gnomeregan Forever> turning Guild Level 25 we are having a little celebration of the Gnomish spirit in writing!

Contest Theme: "The Little People"

First Prize: Mekgineer's Chopper - This magnificent motorcycle will be custom built for you by G4's master craftsgnomes!
Second Prize: Personal World Destroyer Plus 5,000 Gold! - Rejection Slips will never find you with this tiny terror guarding your mailbox!
Third Prize: De-Weaponized Mechanical Companion Plus 2,500 Gold! - This adorable mechanical companion will keep you company as you grind out those deadlines!

What do you need to do to win?? Simply post your entry in this thread no later than midnight Saturday night April 28th (Realm Time). The top three most popular entries as selected by our panel of judges will win!

Contest Rules:
1. Valid entries should reflect the contest theme: "The Little People" in the opinion of at least one of our judges to be eligible to win a prize.
2. Entries must be posted in this thread by midnight server time on Saturday April 28th to be eligible to win a prize.
3. Contest open to everyone who plays on Wyrmrest Accord, however it is the responsibility of the winners to provide the name of an Alliance side character to receive their prize.
4. Submit as many entries as you like. However only ONE prize per character will be awarded.
5. Members of <Gnomeregan Forever> and their associated alts are specifically ineligible to win.

Well dont just sit there...GET WRITING! And Good Luck everyone!

- Forbs
"For Gnomeregan!"
G4 Writing Contest Final Results!

This was a hard one to judge there were a LOT of really good entries, and I was glad to have some help from my guild to pick the winners because I would have been hard pressed to choose my favorite!

But the results of the voting is finally in and the most popular pieces are...

First Place - Kaithira with her story of the Gnomish exodus was the clear favorite among our members. Kaithra I would like to meet you in person and hand you your prize of a precision built Mekgineer's Chopper. Congratulations! Please contact me asap to set up a a convenient time!

Second Place - Jannit's moving piece about the human warrior and the Gnomish Priest took second place and will be receiving a hand built World Destroyer and 5,000 gold. Congratulations! I'd like to meet with you and give you your prize in person if I may. However if you prefer I can pop it in the mail to you. Please let me know!

Third Place - We actually had a tie for third place, and rather than make an executive decision and break it, I've decided to award Third Place prizes of a De-weaponized Mechanical Companion and 2,500 gold each to Revaarun for his song about the Gnomish samaritans, and Prikka for her Gnomish Guide to Assertiveness! Your prizes will be in your mailbox shortly!

I'd like to thank everyone who entered! You guys really gave some wonderful and varied perspectives on the Little People, and I hope everyone enjoyed reading them as much as I did!

Stay tuned! We have more prizes to give away!

- Forbs
"For Gnomeregan!"
Is this alliance only?
<Stars a'ponderin'>

Is there a word limit?
04/24/2012 03:24 PMPosted by Zieto
Is this alliance only?

No, anyone is free to enter. But you'll need a blue side alt or trusted friend Blue side to receive your prize if you win.
Note: I'm willing to assist any Horde side winner with smuggling their prize across the border. But given the recent issues with automated neutral AH "snipers" <Gnomeregan Forever> will not be responsible for any items lost in transfer.

<Stars a'ponderin'>
Is there a word limit?

I thought about limiting it to the 5000 character post limit, but then decided against it. If you have something epic in mind, go for it. Just be mindful of the deadline.

Rule Addition: Sorry I didnt anticipate this earlier, but members of <Gnomeregan Forever> and their alts (dont even think about it, I know who you are! :) are ineligible to win.

- Forbs
"For Gnomeregan!"
Ooooh!!! Will definitely be doing this (Reserves spot)
<.< I kinda forgot to write a story so um...

Frolley Fraywire hit her head
And thusly went straight to bed
Woke up with a desire to read
On all of Arcane's mysteries

The little gnome read through book and book
And with conjured fire she started to cook
A delicious little snack
When orcs started to attack!

With her fire she learned to wield
And magic spells that could shield
She stopped the orcs who had to yield.

*winces at poem*
04/25/2012 05:23 PMPosted by Civardi
Ooooh!!! Will definitely be doing this (Reserves spot)
Im not Lissa!!! Oh wait....ummm..nevermind

Rule Addition: Sorry I didnt anticipate this earlier, but members of <Gnomeregan Forever> and their alts (dont even think about it, I know who you are! :) are ineligible to win.

- Forbs
"For Gnomeregan!"
*mumbles something about the rules* oh well I guess I will write and post mine for fun then.
It was a usual day in the snowy lands of Dun Morogh as a couple awoke to the shouts and pitter pattering feet of their three children in the kitchen. Rising to see what was wrong, Mrs. Fizzlewick, who’s violet hair was still securely sticking in the air above her head and held by many silver clasps, went into the living room that opened into the kitchen and she spoke with her naturally happy voice.

“Ooooh kittens! What seems to be the matter?” She bundled up her bright purple nightgown and moved into the kitchen itself to see what had happened. What she saw when she entered made her shout, “Bulbs and pistons! Charlotte you get off of that table this very instant!” For in the kitchen stood a chubby little girl upon the table, a boy under the table, covered in flour from a broken jar, and in the corner cackled the eldest child, a boy named Raulkin.

Mrs. Fizzlewick pointed her finger imperiously at the ground and was replied to with a stuck out lip of protest from her daughter. “Mommy, Raully said that he had learned a spell that would keep the flour in the air. Raully said that if Charley threw it, and it didn’t work, Tynet would be able to catch it. But when Charly threw it, Mommy, when Charley threw it, Raully tripped Tynet and it broke on his he-”

“I DID NOT!” exclaimed the red haired boy who had been laughing. “She’s fibbing! She always tries to get Raully in trouble. Yes she does.” Standing up from under the table, still white all over from the flour, was Tynet with an index finger raised in the air, “Indubitably!”
Mrs. Fizzlewick curled her toddler sized hands into toddler sized fists and placed them firmly on her pudgy little hips. “Now boys, don’t gang up on your sister. Momma doesn’t care who did what, just go wash up or you will be late for school.”

As if it were planned, all three of the children opened their mouths in unison to protest but they were cut off with a waved hand. “Scoot, kitties!” In a single filed order they moved past their mother to go wash up, Raully of course stepping on Charlotte’s slippers as all older brothers do, but it did not retard their progress to the bathroom and, eventually, their bedrooms.

Mrs. Fizzlewick walked forward to pick up the broken glass jar pieces that housed her flour and she placed them all on the table before cleaning up the spilled flour itself with a wet linen cloth. “Well,” she thought aloud, “That just means I won’t be making any cookies or cakes tonight. A night without dessert ought to teach them.” She rinsed the rag off, while humming a rather quirky melody, and as soon as she shut off the water to ring out the dishtowel, she heard the feet again. “Oooooh kittens!”

As a trio, the three lined up in the living room’s entry way and smiled to their mother. In the middle was Raulkin, the tallest and darkest. His hair was red, shaggy, and almost completely obstructive of his equally red-orange eyes. On his left was Tynet who was once more green in hair and eyes, having washed all of the flour off his person. His hair was still wet and yet it stuck up and back as though it had been exposed to the harsh winds of Tanaris. Finally, on Raulkin’s right, was the little Charlotte. Charley alone had inherited her mother’s purple hair and eyes, though she wore her hair in two large buns over her ears as opposed to her mother’s tower-style.

With a great smile Mrs. Fizzlewick made her way over to her children and stood before them. “Now, my darlings, don’t you all look dapper.” In fact, they all did. Each was dressed in a linen robe that was trimmed with the color to match their respect hair and eyes. They even had screwdrivers and goggles with custom colored lenses to match as well. “You all remember what Mommy and Daddy told you to do after school today?”
The three nodded together but each spoke a different word of reassurance,

Mrs. Fizzlewick smiled again and extended her arms forward to beckon her children forward and into them. Before breaking off the hug, Mrs. Fizzlewick leaned forward to peck each of her children on the forehead with a kiss and whisper, “I love you” after each one. Stepping back, the children replied, “I love you too,” before immediately rounding on each other and entering another shouting match.

“I love her more!”

“No, I do!”

“That’s not possible!”

“Yes it is you don’t know anything!”

“Yessuh. Tynet knows it’s more likely Tynet loves her most just like world enlarging contraptions actually just backfire and shrink the user!”

“Raully thinks you make about as much sense as goggle frames without lenses.”

“Well you’re both wrong,” shouted a triumphant Charlotte, “Because I know I love her most.”
The two boys rounded on their sister and sneered while Mrs. Fizzlewick rolled her eyes; she knew Charley could handle them.

“What makes you so sure?” inquired Raulkin.

“Because,” smiled Charlotte, “I love her alllllll there is. And your little machines can't measure that.” With a second triumphant look, this one in her mother’s direction, Charlotte marched her pudgy purple person out the door and into the fresh snow where she made tracks no larger than an adult bunny.

The boys looked at each other, made a ‘PFFT’ noise simultaneously, and the two were about to follow their sister when Mrs. Fizzlewick said, “Tynet, would you be a love and let out Bertha for me?” All three of the gnomes looked onto the floor by the fridge where a very fat and very lazy looking grey cat was laying down.

When she realized all eyes were on her and physical exertion was inevitable, the cat began to struggle up onto her legs. She didn’t get far, which isn’t too surprising, before Raulkin unceremoniously used his foot at her rear end to give her an extra boost. “Let’s go Bertha Fat Pants. It’s time to go out in the snow and provide the wolves with a filling meal.”
“Raulkin! Be nice to B.F.P!” Mrs. Fizzlewick gave him a soft sigh and ushered the two boys and feline companion out of the door. “Have a good day at school!”

The door closed with a soft click and Mrs. Fizzlewick watched the children catch up with their sister who, upon noticing her brother’s arrival and attempt to trip her, turned around and summoned a quick gust of wind by extending her hands at them that sent the boys both flying backwards into the snow. She smiled as her daughter cheered in glory, but began giggling aloud as the boys stood up and chased their sister up the road and out of sight.

She was about to turn back from the window when she felt a chin on her shoulder and arms wrap gently around her waist. A goatee tickled her neck and made her giggle once more as her husband said, “What did I miss?” before giving her neck a kiss.

Mrs. Fizzlewick slipped out from his arms and made her way over to the table where she took a seat. “Get two glasses of milk and I’ll tell you all about it.” Her husband gave her a wink and went about fixing the glasses of milk, before settling himself down in the chair opposite his wife while she began to recant the adventure of their children that had just occurred out the window and the morning that lead up to it.
Revaarun strums four chords on his battered lute. One of the strings sounds noticeably out of tune, but he continues regardless, performing…

The Little People – A poem with musical accompaniment

‘Twas in the deep of winter’s chill
I found myself unwell
My mind and muscles taken ill
Beside the road I fell

A greedy Human merchant passed
And scoffed at my demise
Another of the noble caste
Ignored me with her eyes

An Elven priestess saw me true
But had no time to spare
A Dwarven warrior wandered through
But was to drunk to care

Then ere my life came to a close
I heard a rescue call
And from the ground my body rose
With aid from hands so small

They guided me and brought me to
A home of little wealth
They warmed my bones and fed me stew
And nursed me back to health

I learned a lesson in that place
Which I will now impart
Though Gnomes may be the shortest race
They have the tallest heart

The Draenei finishes with a flurry of awkwardly arranged notes, and takes a deep bow. Rewarded with silence, he wonders if perhaps he went too far in pandering to the judges.
04/25/2012 05:28 PMPosted by Shaysinn
Ooooh!!! Will definitely be doing this (Reserves spot)
Bumping this so more aspiring writers (and riders!) see this and get a chance to submit their entries before the deadline!

- Forbs
"For Gnomeregan!"
A Regular Person's Guide to Thriving in an Overly-Large World

I am small for even a Gnome. Four inches below the average, in fact, and so I often receive the same treatment from Folk that I do from the overly-tall races. Women try to snatch me up like a doll; men look over my head and pretend that I do not exist; yokels gape and exclaim that they've never seen a Gnome before, wow!; cosmopolites assure me that adore Gnomes—such useful little people, and so adorable! Don't get me started on people who think it acceptable to deliver a bone-crushing kick if the victim is small.

Furniture is too big. Smaller portions cost more because of “preparation time.” Many shops change an unwritten “Gnome tax,” regardless of laws specifically forbidding this. With all the challenges arrayed against us, how can a Gnome possibly succeed?

By being a smart little bugger, that's how.

Throw your weight around. That is, the weight of your personality. Drop the perky act right now—it's only useful if you're trying to hide, and if you're reading this then you're done with that nonsense. You must act seriously if you wish to be taken seriously. Not only serious, but superior. Take any disdain you receive and throw it right back. Take up room—never shrink away or give up your ground to someone tall. Walk around like you own the place. Whether you're in Stormwind, Ironforge, or Gnomeregan, you have the right to be there. That is something we Folk tend to forget.

Meet people who treat you like people. Not only will you gain valuable contacts, you'll cultivate an support system. You'll need one after a day of tall society trying to grind you into the dirt.

Use your money. Make an effort to patronize Gnome-friendly shops. A restaurant doesn't provide raised seats? Inform the manager that you'll take your money next door. If a yard of silk costs a few more pennies for you than for the Kal'dorei in front of you, refuse to purchase it. And don't stop there: urge your friends to do the same. Gnomes comprised nearly 13% of retail and service purchases in Stormwind last year. Gnomish custom can make or break a shop. Use that.

Do not allow yourself to be overlooked. Both literally and metaphorically. If someone stares over your head, get up in his face. If you can't do that, make yourself a nuisance. I once floated in complete silence behind a Dwarven official who refused to acknowledge me for three hours. He didn't get a bit of work done until he turned around.

Use the stereotypes. If you are seen as “hyper-active” and “scatter-brained,” go quiet and still when you really need to make an effect. If you are expected to be sweet and demure, it is all the more surprising when you gently smile and explain how you will ruin a man. And, of course, the counterpoint to the above: you can learn ever so much when you are overlooked.

Never back down. If you do, you lose.

Strive always to be more than you are. I wish you well.

-From an unpublished monograph by Prikka Graymind

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