MCWC V - Submissions

[Scottish King]

MCWC V

Eligibility

The submitted story must be at least 1,000 words long, or be a serialised story or collection of short stories that have two updates of 500 words or more each in the months of February, March, April and May.
The winner of the previous competition cannot compete in this current competition.
Only one submission per person.
Nomination deadline: the last day of the month
The competition is open for a month, followed by a one week, multi-poll vote.
If there are less than 5 submissions, the competition is extended for another month.
Usually authors nominate their own work. If you would like to nominate somebody else's work, please ask for the author's approval first (or encourage the author to nominate his work)!

Information to provide
Title and link to the original story thread
Author

Short description/teaser

Advertisement Rules
Advertising is allowed in the official advertising board and in story threads. Any other kind of direct advertising to advocate nominees is prohibited. Those who breach this rule shall be disqualified for 3 months.

Asking for votes is not allowed and will result in an immediate disqualification and ban of 3 months from the Competition forums.

The competition manager will take whatever steps necessary to insure the integrity of the competition.

Awards
4 points for the Winner
3 points for Second Place
2 points for Third Place

Points are accumulated towards the awarding of the Writers' Study Competition Medals.

Please see the Writer's Study Information and FAQ Thread for more details.

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

Trailblazers by f0ma

My steampunky-fantasy type deal, because why not?

~ Teaser ~

"Hail stranger,” purred a voice. The young man turned to see a lithe Kyato making her way out on to the deck towards him. Graceful and as equally feminine as she was feline, the cat-woman lounged forward to stand by his side, her tail bouncing energetically in the wind behind her. The man eyed the newcomer suspiciously. He was still unused to the Kyato peoples. They shared the shape and form of humans, yet bore distinctly cat-like features. A thin furry skin, protruding ears and twitching whiskers set them apart from humans, alongside some more eccentric feline traits.

Rather than reply, the man simply nodded towards his new companion, before turning his attention back to the rolling waves. Catching a glance at his stony expression, the Kyato laughed. “What’s that look for?” she asked, tones thick with mirth. “The northlands weren’t what you expected them to be?”

The young man raised a suspicious eyebrow. He thought better than to retort too hastily. In his line of work information was power. To give too much away to a complete stranger could be potentially dangerous for him. “I’m not sure I follow you,” he responded eventually, keeping a level voice.

“Oh come on,” the Kyato cried playfully, edging nearing to him. “No one goes north unless they’re looking for something special. No one comes back south with an expression like that unless they didn’t find it.”

The human snorted contemptuously. “Is that so?” he inquisited. He turned to look at the cat-woman properly for the first time. Her trigonometric ears poked through two cut holes in a dusty tricorne, silhouetting wild, yellow eyes beneath. Her whiskers twitched bashfully as she studied him, framing a wide and vicious smile. “Then I guess you found what you were looking for?”

“Oh I did indeed!” she fawned, taking her eyes off him to swoon to herself. “A very productive adventure all told. Right up into Zahl Castle itself!”

Her words finally peaked the man’s curiosity and a hint of interest finally tinged his tongue. “You were up at Zahl Castle?”

The Kyato shot him a seductive wink. “I was indeed,” she purred in excitement. “Would you care to hear my tale?”

[Iron Aquilifer]

Short Story: Clockwork

by
Stannis the Mannis

teaser

Ethan Rogers lay awake in his bunk, having gone beyond the point of exhaustion long ago. He barely noticed the scratching and scurrying as rats feasted on his straw mattress. The snoring of his squad mates and their cries at unseen horrors went unnoticed, as it had for days now. All Ethan saw was the barren land he was to cross. All he heard was the guns booming. The booming counting away the seconds of his life.

"Private Rogers, get up!" The sergeant was in their room, the same cave they had dug themselves two years ago. "Get up you lazy sods! Up! Up!"

[Dance]

Of The Rills

A Song of Ice and Fire creative fan fiction story.

The story follows a northern squire named Wendyl of the Rills as he licks his wounds and deals with the atrocity of the canon 'Red Wedding' event that tore The North asunder. Follow Wendyl's story as he hunts for justice in a war torn land.

[golded]

The Knight of the Black Cross

Tristan de Vernon, a Norman knight in the service of the Count of Evreux, seeks his fortune and freedom in the distant lands of Italy.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Tristan looked around the room for a weapon. Anything to defend himself with. He pushed Emma behind him as he kicked the table until one of its legs splintered off and he wielded it as a club. There was another thump on the door and then a muffled cry and the sound of a body falling to the ground. The door opened inwards, and so Tristan stood to the left of the hinges, with Emma behind him, and waited to ambush whoever was coming. He heard the heavy iron bar slide from its latch and then the door swung open. The man who entered was taller than Tristan, and he was wearing finely polished maille except that it was splashed with blood. This was their chance to escape. Tristan moved quickly.

He kicked the back of the man’s knee, sending him to the ground and he swung the table leg club at the man’s head but it dinged off his iron helmet and sent a shock up Tristan’s arm. The man turned quickly and seemed about to shout something but Tristan swung the club at him again. This time the man blocked it and Tristan forgot the weak makeshift weapon and simply thrust his shoulder into the man’s waist, tackling him to the ground. He would do to him what he had done to Bardulf. But this warrior was different, he knew how to fight properly. The man trapped Tristan’s right arm and placed his left leg on the outside of Tristan’s right and then heaved him over and in that instant the man extricated himself from between Tristan’s legs and moved agilely aside, flying on top of Tristan.

“Emma, run!” he shouted. The man punched Tristan squarely in the face, knocking his head back into the stone floor. Then he leapt off, moving towards Emma.

“Run, Emma!” shouted Tristan again, dazed by the large man’s strike.

“No, my lady,” responded the man. “I am a friend. I am here to help.”

And then Tristan recognized him. He had not been able to make out his features at first because of the armor and helmet and darkness but now Tristan could see clearly. His broad shoulders that gave him a strength that seemed to be gifted by the ancients, intelligent eyes that studied everything around them, blonde hair cut at the nape of his neck. It was the stranger from Hauteville, the man who was the kin of the conquerors of Italy. And the man looked down at Tristan and stuck out his arm, offering him a hand up. Tristan stared back at him for a moment, still unsure of whether or not to trust him.

“What’s your name?” Asked Tristan.

“Names are for later. Now is the time for fighting.”

[Scottish King]

Ill put up the voting thread later today.

[Lugotorix]

That should have been changed. Now eligible for the month of May.

My Fantasy Sci-Fi Novel, Neck of Ivory: Book I of The Shinoro

The excerpt chapters are here:
http://www.twcenter.net/forums/showt...2#post13833132

The year is 736, seven centuries after the founding of Nemov, paramount metropolis of the Empire, and four thousand years after the founding of the Empire of Tarakia.

The War of the Jester’s Crown, a conflict of succession and secession, has ended, along with the conquest of the Harlequin Isles.
The Tenrya Alaia Minechira, the witch empress Imira, is ailing, having taken retreat to the catacombs of Varinal, where she mourns for the death of her lover, Beraekye Tresk, Ezom Baler, hero of the campaign in the Harlequin Isles and squire of the Masun Zeal.
Many fear the war will be repeated, as an illegitamate is heir. It is said that young Ziraga will soon abdicate to another of his mother’s line.
The war has resulted in a pyrrhic outcome. Gone are the Shinoro, the Masun Zeal, sworn protectors and archaeologists of the noble lineages and the natural order. Gone is emperor Kiirfan the White, called Kuda. Gone also, is Tre Ral, called Taro, champion of the rebellion in the Vesperine valleys and the Cradle, Ankania, and Kelmia and Tazov. Gone are the brothers Meriov.
And gone is the illusion of sanctity that has long persisted in Nemov, a city not pierced for a millennia, ravaged by the pretender Xoba’s coup, along with its empress.
The year is 736. The nobles and Centralists of great Aerador, Nemov, and Dora Heln send their scions to reconstruct the Kingdom of Maltaenia and Apriga, where the war began, now in civil strife.

Intro

I seem to need some assistance getting FB video links working.