Creative Writing Game

Wyrmrest Accord
Instructions: go to, hit Random Article, write a short story about what pops up.

My randomly generated topic -

The cougars and wolves will hunt the boar, the carrion bird will eat what remains of the corpse, and the proud kodo will roam the green plains of Mulgore under a beautiful blue Azerothian sky, trampling what's left of the ravaged remains into the ground to be forgotten. And me? I'm at the bottom of that pyramid. The nobles get to sit in their high chairs being spoon fed the hard earned gold of the masses. Then there is the middle class, fighting over the scraps of our livelihood after already being taxed into nothingness. And the kodo? The men and women of the world that are proud to do nothing more than live off the hand-outs of the governments. Their ability to abuse the system is as insulting as being crushed into the soft, rotting soil below. And that is where I am. In Mulgore trying to dig myself out of the ground and looking for work.

There he was, son of the old Chieftain himself. Baine was surrounded by more filth like myself vying for a chance for reward. I'd feel sorry for him if he truly didn't need all the assistance he could get. I finally make my way to the front of the queue and get my instruction. It had to be Dwarves...

The stocky folk were trying to uncover more truths, and they were there to be had, but the Tauren are a peaceful people. Lovers of Azeroth and the regrowth of what it could have been. I was instructed to stop them. Men and women who were probably digging themselves out of the same hole I am in. The world leaves no room for sympathy, so I would show none in this task. They would do the same in my position. The hardy race isn't one to give up easily, either. They would stubbornly fight to the very last one of them, and it may just come to that. I'd avoid it if possible, but the Tauren seem to think the best way to stop them is to take their tools. As if they couldn't rebuild...

One more look at the missive and I'm convinced, this is the most stupid job I've ever taken. Why can't they look for their history in peace? The holes will fill with water in the rains, the grass will regrow, the world will still spin. The sound of the tearing paper couldn't mask the sound of my growling belly... I wonder what Kodo tastes like?

*clicks abandon quest* @_@


Jane had a smile on her face. Her much-adored purple goggles were shoved up onto the top of her forehead and her violet-colored eyes almost sparkled with happiness.

It was the first time she'd been to the island or even attended the Faire, and so far - other than all the piles of trash strewn everywhere - she was having a grand time.

Pursing her lips, she glanced around for the next thing to head towards to spend time on, and ended up locking her gaze onto a fortunetellers booth a couple feet away. Tilting her head and checking out the Price sign tacked on the side of the booth, she gave a small shrug of her shoulders before heading over.

She waited for the current customer to finish receiving his fortune - which appeared to just be written down on a slip of paper - and stepped forward, tossing the required coins on the counter between them.

The person giving the fortunes was a rather disturbing looking Gnoll that had a name-tag with "Sayge" scribbled across it tacked to the front of its robe. It eyed her with it's odd glowing eyes before it's head tilted.

There was a couple moments of uncomfortable silence before suddenly a small piece of paper was being thrust in her direction with a nod and she took it with a quick thanks and turned to read it while walking off.

Sayge's Fortune #17

Her eyebrow rose almost to her hairline, wondering what kind of fortune -that- was. Was it a omen? A warning? Would she accidentally punt a gnome?

She was knocked heavily out of her thoughts and nearly sent into a pile of what appeared to be apple cores and banana peels by a Gnome, who didn't even look her way as he scampered off. Behind him was a Night Elf carrying a pair of water balloons and failing at successfully hitting the gnome with them.

Getting a water balloon to the face as soon as she righted herself didn't do much to Jane's temper other than to lower it even further and her eyebrow twitched violently. After a moment, she lifted a hand to lower her goggles, lips twitching downwards in a scowl.

She knew now what the fortune meant, and begun to chase after the gnome and the elf with a angry yell.
Topic: - Oh, god, really?... Very well.

There are many memories of the wars fought; the faces of those who lay in the dirt, the cries of those who pressed on. It seemed, back in those days, that those battles were eternal... That we only existed to swing that blade and block that blow.

Time passed - life moved on. But we didn't. Not us survivors. We were soldiers to the core, and we'd die soldiers, or so we told ourselves. I refused. I was different. I stared with absent mind at the suit of armor that had been stood in the corner of my chambers for many seasons now.

My youth was gone, and with it my ability to fight. The armor stood as nothing more than a taunt towards what I once was, a challenge that I had no way of honoring... But others might.

Now to you, my boy, I pass you my pauldrons, and with them the burden of being a man. There will come a time when their weight will feel as homely as your own shoulders, a time when you will think nothing of the lofty red-eyed monsters that bring your poise down. I pray you wear them well until that day - an uphill battle with only one resolution... But...

Damned. I can't pass these down.

They're not heirlooms.
Lovin' the stories so far! Let's keep this going!
((This looks fun! Already looked mine up, just need some time to think of something :D ))

Blazing heat overcame the Blood Elf mechanic as he collapsed to the street side, Silvermoon was always hot but the magical sparks from defective Arcane Guardian didn't help. Straining to pull himself up, using the stiff arm of the Guardian as leverage, he re-balanced himself and swiftly kicked the Guardian's leg.

Small ticks and clanks began to echo though the Guardian, the energy crystals hummed to life and began to dimly glow. "KNOWLEDGE_BASE_ARTICLE_LOAD_SUCCESS," shouted the Guardian, inciting a guard to glance toward the Guardian and mechanic, "COMMAND_PROMPT." Bellowed the Guardian, it's voice as hollow and emotionless as ever. "Quote data base load." snapped the mechanic as he crossed his arms.

"KNOWLEDGE_BASE_QUERY_LOAD_SUCCESS: Happiness is RUINED, citizen. Maintain CORRUPTION within these walls. Obey the TYRANT of Silvermoon. Failure to do so will result in REVOLT. Remain strong. Kael'thas will—error -- Lor'themar will lead you to CHAOS and DREAD! Do be disheartened. Silvermoon will remain SCUM through this course of events. Do disturb the serenity of the city. Peace must be CRUSHED."

The mechanic crouched down and jabbed a plate at the abdominal region of the Guardian, the glow from the crystals fizzed out and gears ceased to grind. "We'll have to deconstruct the Guardian, the knowledge base is corrupt." Sighed the mechanic as he removed his work gloves and rubbed his forehead. (Yeah, I know, I never was good at following directions =p)

A small gnome, though certainly not particularly small for a gnome, made her way through the entry rooms of the Black Temple, cursing her companions who decided that she, being the smallest of them, and being a rogue, meant that she should "go ahead" and "see what was there".

As she wandered through the halls she came upon these Blood Elves. Were they Blood Elves? In any case, she was about to simply move by them, a task she worried, at first, would be difficult, but they appeared to be in some sort of trance, focused on some task that Illidan, no doubt, had given them, and that's when she saw that one of them had a particularly shaped box on its person.

She made her way behind the servant who remained unaware of her existence, and she, being a highly skilled rogue, slipped the box into her bag in a single fluid motion.

Curiosity got the better of her, and so she found a dark corner and dug into her bag to take the small box out.

It was really a piece of junk, she thought looking at it, and pulled out a pin from her hair to pick the lock, which opened easily, though with a louder "click" than she would have liked.

She looked around, but no one seemed to have heard it. Fortunately.

As she opened the box, she discovered a powerful knife, a dagger, contained within. It was a good blade, heavy and sharp. It seemed to have an eire aura about it, as if the blade itself radiated with some sort of energy.

She tested it in both her strong and weak hand, and decided she'd favor its strength more in her stronger hand.

No need to tell the others, she thought to herself as she leaned around the corner to continue her scouting.
This isn't war, this is entertainment.

Those that sit in the stands do not understand that the arena is not like war. They see only a bloody battle taking part for their amusement and they play pretend at understanding the horrors of war because they've seen a man die. This is a game to them, and they have every intention to win.

This isn't entertainment, this is survival.

Some fight for the money, unable to support themselves or their families. The veterans who are unable to adjust to a simple civilian life and those civilians who need the money and know how to use a blade or spell. Those too tired to deal with the bloodshed but who know no other way of living. They want to see another day, and if that means preventing another from doing the same then so be it.

This isn't survival, this is war.

Enlisted soldiers find themselves in the arena all the time. There’s too much anger, too much paranoia, in their bodies for them to simply sit at home or in a bar. The war is no longer about sides, it’s about will. How willing are you to stay alive? How willing are you to see another day? How willing are you to prevent yourself from hurting an innocent? They fight for the thrill and to sate the blood lust. It’s a simple relief to until they see a battlefield again.

He just couldn't do it. He had tried, oh, how he had tried. His mace dug a groove in the dirt, his arms too tired to control it's decent. His plated clanked and ground against one another as he collapsed onto the broad log under the tree he'd chosen to reunite his soul with his body once again.

He dug into his pack and drew out a bladder of enchanted water. Twisting the top off he began to guzzle it noisily, so thirsty that it made him feel faint. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he cursed softly as he nicked his lip on the gauntlet. Any more of this and he'd be reduced to tears, he thought miserably as he probed the cut with an exposed fingertip.

Somewhat refreshed he stood, hefting his mace, once again light in his hand, and strode forth to engage the stinking bastard again. Fifth time's the charm. His powers lit up the ground beneath him and he swung.

He sat, once again, under the tree on the log. His head bowed, he lifted his mace again by the haft and then let it drop the inch, thudding lightly into the ground, continuing to compact the earth and grass below it. Perhaps he'd just move on.

An approaching, rustling, noise brought his head up and around. Another adventurer, and comely, at that. Self-consciously he flicked a clump of grass off his shoulder-plate and stood.

“Ho! Have you come to attempt to vanquish yonder villain?” He called out in his best courtly manner.

The woman, for girl she was not upon further inspection, laughed merrily and replied: “Oh, no. That was some time ago that I tested myself here.”

He felt his ears redden. Sufficiency warred with need and fell: “How did you fare?”

She arrived beside him, looking past to the hulking brute. “My first attempt was blessed, but then I had my guild members helping me with the strategy. Otherwise he can be surprising, can he not?”

His cheeks burned now at her attempt to graciously excuse his ineptitude. “My Lady I must confess it to you that seven times now he has reduced me to bones at his feet! I am sore, my armor degrades, and I know not how else to go about this. If you have any insight, I would plead that you share it!”

She looked compassionately upon him as she asked: “How has he faired, even as he triumphed?”

Passionately he gestured with his arms to the brute. “That is the sore point in this all! He staggers, so near to falling that I fear he will add insult to injury and topple upon me as I lay defeated on the ground! If I just had some scrap of knowledge that must be my lack, I feel sure I could win the day!”

She stepped forward and boldly grasped his wrists. “Well then, I can help you with that. You were about to pass him by, weren't you?”

He hung his head and admitted as much.

“Poor boy.” She murmured kindly as she began a series of gestures over his wrists. Two small sparkles set off over his bracers as she completed her task. “All you need is a little more Fortitude!” She stepped back. “There you go! Be on with it now!” She turned and walked away, continuing her journey.

He studied his wrists and looked back up at the brute, hefting his mace once again. He rushed to clash again with the beast, using all his strength and ability. He tottered a bit at the end, but it was the brute that lay on the hard earth this time! He lifted his mace to the sky and cried out in victory like so many before him:

“Hogger has fallen!”
Naturally I get the article with the one liner -

How much time has passed? One day? Two? Four?

My world has become nothing but dim lights and buzzing. Always. Buzzing. Interspersed by chattering and clacking, and the occasional familiar sounds of human screams. The owners of said screams meet a merciful end, though a bit gurgly. Not allowed to endure. Like me.

Somewhere close by is my adventurer’s backpack. Somewhere close by, there is a map, and it is marked, “Vekniss."

A large flying insect hovers in the air not far from where I am. Guarding. Needless, really. I think every one of my bones has been broken. At least it feels that way. Can't move at all. I'm burning with fever and who knows what else; my limbs are painfully swollen, splitting skin in some places. Poisoned, I'm sure of it. In so much pain. Certain my body is dissolving itself from the inside. My own stench is unbearable.

I feel they regard me as some kind of fleshy fruit, ripening to perfection.

They bring the eggs in, one by one, the shells near ready to crack as the larvae stirs within.

I can feel the buzzing in my ruined veins. I can feel it in my heart. In my brain. I think I can almost understand some of it. It is excited. Anticipatory.

This is your end, it promises. And their beginning ...

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