Writer's Workshop 3: Submissions (Round Two)

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hey folks, welcome to Round Two! :smile: :+1:

let’s use this thread for submissions/casting votes… and to recap from the original thread:

given that round one was centered around a writer’s interpretation of “conflict”, I think the theme for this first round should be recovery… if you have already submitted an entry, I will award bonus points for a storyline continuation…

but feel free to write an entirely new story if you prefer! :smiley:

Rules
we’re keeping it super simple this time folks… quicker “rounds” (which translates into shorter windows to write/vote) in the hopes that the pace will help improve the participation:

  • in 350 words or less, tell a tale of recovery as it relates to the SH setting
  • 5 days to submit your story (deadline to enter this first round is Sunday, Feb 8th @ 12 PM CST)
  • 3 days to vote (deadline to vote on entries for this first round is Wednesday, Feb 11th @ 12PM CST)

Rewards
as per usual, custom titles will be handed out for those that place in the top three positions (after all the “rounds” of this workshop have been completed)… as well as (potentially) some Steam swag… :wink:

as an example of the 350 word threshold/requirement, here’s an example entry:

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Integer at tellus justo. Ut aliquet rutrum ex. Ut eget hendrerit dui, in lacinia massa. Aliquam non consequat orci. Proin sit amet dolor eget urna tempor rhoncus. Aenean lorem purus, vehicula id turpis nec, dignissim fringilla turpis. Nam in ligula a neque vulputate venenatis quis nec metus. Nulla faucibus libero a nunc mollis, a accumsan ante interdum. Nunc nibh metus, feugiat et urna vitae, fringilla dignissim tortor. Maecenas efficitur orci libero, in placerat est malesuada nec. Proin a tristique mi.

Donec sed facilisis lectus. Integer sed tellus at augue porttitor dignissim dictum sagittis erat. Suspendisse id sapien at felis tempus mollis. Donec pretium placerat gravida. In tincidunt malesuada dolor, id tincidunt diam ullamcorper eu. Etiam porttitor luctus mauris. Nulla faucibus erat placerat, tincidunt sem vel, rutrum nisl. Sed ultrices ante sed quam maximus, nec mollis ligula tincidunt. Aenean quis elementum arcu. Cras diam magna, luctus eu tristique pellentesque, ornare feugiat odio. Integer in dui egestas, euismod purus nec, sagittis turpis. Sed in enim leo. Suspendisse et volutpat erat. Duis tempor nunc sit amet libero ultricies pharetra.

Phasellus ipsum lacus, volutpat vitae turpis nec, tincidunt gravida orci. Vivamus magna dui, dictum ut nisi et, elementum tempus metus. Maecenas varius accumsan mi, nec ultricies elit finibus sed. Cras ullamcorper sed risus a pretium. Duis quis erat in urna vestibulum eleifend sit amet ut odio. Fusce et blandit odio. Pellentesque eu lorem sem. Quisque id erat sem. Phasellus tortor lectus, pharetra ac tristique at, ultricies at urna. Fusce venenatis sed est nec iaculis. Nunc ut ex tempor, iaculis sapien a, tempus felis. Nunc non urna hendrerit ex viverra feugiat. Vivamus velit nunc, suscipit ac neque eu, faucibus convallis nibh. Quisque nisi sapien, aliquam a venenatis eget, ultricies eget nisl.

Nunc eu dui auctor, maximus tellus quis, dignissim nunc. Sed in sem et lectus vulputate mattis. Curabitur massa massa, efficitur sit amet tellus suscipit, venenatis consequat diam. Nam quis lacus tellus. Maecenas luctus ipsum lorem. Nam in eros non sapien cursus elementum sed ac velit. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed urna nisl.

fairly easy to generate for the writer, and easily consumable by the reader… :+1:

have fun! :smile:

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I moved a post to an existing topic: Writer’s Workshop 3: The Wrath of Mer!

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Double Recovery

“I want blanket, good blanket from rich settlers!” The goblin king said to his tribe. The village was abuzz, they could smell a raid coming.


Jeren Fenton stretched in his bed. The early morning light shown through the windows. This was his favorite time of the day. He loved to lay under the covers and look at his plushie toy rabbit. His ears perked up, he heard a chant in the street. 

“GOBLINS! TO ARMS! DANGER! GOBLINS!”

Before he knew it three big goblins broke into his house. The lead one swung his club at Jeren’s prone form. Jeren tried to block it with his hand, but to no avail. Everything went black. The goblins pulled the blanket off Jeren and ran away.

The settlers tried all they could to wake poor Jeren but nothing made him stir. The medicine man decided to let him rest for a while. Meanwhile the footmen of the town formed a party. They prepared to attack the goblin village. The crafters made fish pikes for the footmen to invade the goblin village with.

The footmen followed the attack order and advanced on the goblin village. The goblins fought valiantly but they couldn’t stop the new fish pikes. The goblin king fled to his house clutching the stolen blanket. He and his bodyguards made their last stand at the foot of the king’s house. Ollen Inverse led the charge. After a few minutes of dangerous brawling Ollen beheaded the goblin king and recaptured the blanket.

Ollen returned to the village a hero. The other footmen carried him as they paraded through the streets. At the end of their parading Ollen brought the blanket back to Jeren’s house. The medicine man was watching over Jeren’s sleeping body. Ollen raised the blanket and covered Jeren. Almost at once Jeren woke up. He was bedridden for a day longer, but after that he was as good as ever.

At the celebration ceremony the elder of the village (who liked puns) made a brief speech.

“Jeren has made a miraculous recovery, Ollen has made a heroic re-cover-y.”

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The Recovery From Smartness a sequel to "The Curse of Smartness"
The goblins all gathered round a small fire (a fire they created from a hunk of stone) and looked at the starry sky. Earlier that day the soldiers of Fort Fellington came and took their beds back, and they had new shiny swords and armor on. The goblins had to abandon their home by the village, because of the village making stone walls and having more and more soldiers to attack. Tall Tim was sitting under a tree that night, wondering why the Radiant Team had been so cruel to the race of goblins. The goblins looked to the horizon as the sun rose over the valley, wondering what to do when morning came.

The goblins had been hiding in the trees that morning, trying not to be seen by the patrols of soldiers passing through. Tall Tim looked around and found an abandoned mine, and he led all the goblins inside. “What are we going to do?” said a goblin.
“I don’t know,” said Tall Tim, “We need to create a new life somewhere” some of the goblins in the group were killed not long than a day ago and the small band was in shambles. The goblins searched a little more when one said
" I don’t think I can go any longer without food" most of the other goblins agreed. Some even fell to the ground, because of starvation and grief. Tall Tim continued to search until he found something amazing, a shiny sword and shiny armor. Tim knew what he had to do now.

The sun was begging to set and Tim stood at the gate to Fort Fellington, it was open, with no guards at all. Tim walked in with his armor and sword, his goal was to find food for his friends to survive. He was so lost in the maze of buildings, but he saw no ugly creatures. Then he went near a window, and hear lots of chewing and laughing from inside the building. Inside was all the creatures, but something was different, they were all laughing and smiling, like a big family. Tim remembered his friends and family, the joy he had with them, and they were gone now, but something broke Tim’s heart. He had never felt so much love and everyone was like a family. Tim took off his chest plate and looked at his reflection, this was not him. He began to tear up when he felt a sharp pain in his chest, it was a arrow through his chest. Tim soon blacked out.

Tim woke up in the mine. He had a bandage on his chest and it hurt to move. He then saw his remaining friends around him. They looked worried and were glad he was alive. “Well I’ll get your food and we’ll go eat”
“No, we are all eating together” Tim said. All the goblins looked at each other and got the food. They sat in a circle and ate rotten berries. it tasted horrible, but they began to talk and laugh. They were enjoying each other, acting like a family. Tim enjoyed the dinner and lied down. Maybe they could recover from the grief, maybe they could collect their feelings and be a family again. THE END

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#Spring comes to Silverwell

The cold winter wind howled around Navin Burlyhands. It ripped at his clothes and pulled at his hair, its’ icy daggers pierced him. Navin got up, leaning on his gore-splattered Hammer, and surveyed the ruins of Silverwell
The Carpenter’s house was burning, and its’ owner, Payten Lebam, wept by the ruins. Stockpiles were pillaged, The Mines desolate, Farms destroyed. Grief reigned….
Navin stumbled to his old smithy. Its’ walls were cracked, and the stone roof lay in pieces on the floor, its’ blue tiles smashed….
The Blacksmith trudged over to the ore-stockpile, half his resources were gone, but the job must be done…

Trudge, collect ore
Trudge, collect ore
Trudge, collect wood
Clink! Clink! Clink!
Trudge, Trudge, Trudge, Clink, Clink, Clink
Trudge, Trudge, Trudge, Clink, Clink, Clink
Trudge, Trudge, Trudge, Clink, Clink, Clink
On and on and on.

By the 6th hour after dawn, Navin succumbed to sleep. He stumbled to the Sleeping Quarters by the light of the glowing hearth. The smith dropped into his mean bed, and drifted into slumber…

Though sleep came easily to Navin, his dreams were restless. Thoughts of the battle seeped into his brain, grief ever-present. His memories haunted his sleep, it shadow was cast over his mind…

The bright dawn shun the ragged hole in the roof, awakening Navin Burlyhands. By the sun, dawn had come some 4 hours ago.

Navin stepped out, into the dew soaked grass, a mistiness was in the air.
“Tweet Tweet Tweet. Tweet Tweet Tweet”

It was the sound of the starling.
The sun shone bright, jewel-like flowers dusted the new grass. Around him, the town was a hive of activity: Marianne Stroden and the other workers were busy rebuilding the mason’s’ workshop. Payten Lebam was once again toiling away at a log of oak. All was merry again.

Spring had come to Silverwell.

This is my first Writer’s Workshop, so any feedback- compliment or critique, please let me know on the Wrath of Mer thread.

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come on folks… time’s a wastin!

you only have until Sunday @ 12PM CST to enter your submission for round two! :smile: :+1:

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The village was in ruins. Torn through years of harassment
form the thieving goblins and the haunting skeletons of Candle dark. There was
little the village could do to repair. The farms were burnt and salted, the
children of Redbreeze went hungry those years. After that there was no need for
food. The carpenters workshop was gone stolen by deserters and the trees were
black and broken. Nothing moved, even the wolves had abandoned this place long
ago.

Rora Small Bottom, trudged up the hill side. Her party was
broken with fatigue and tired of the fighting.
She called the party to stop at the crest of the hill. It was almost nightfall.
The meagre tents that they pitched were battered and torn from wars between
clans. They knew that the skeletons would come this night, but the main column
was too far to reach by nightfall. They would have to settle here for the
night. There was little activity in the goblin camp, no music or laughter. That
had been beaten from them long ago.

As the sun set they could hear the howls of wolves and the clicking
of bones. It was Snuck who saw the first pair of glowing eyes. The camp came to
arms in moments, they had done this before. The first skeleton fell to the sword
and the second. The goblins fought for all that they had, which was almost
nothing. Eventually, they fled down the hill and up the other side. When they
crested the hill they saw a wonderful land. It was shelter. The huts would
provide some defence and shelter. In the end the goblins never returned to the
column. They built a new town, called Rorablood, for she had fallen in the
battle. Redbreeze lived once more.

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“M’lord, this is the twelfth attack this week, these cannot be mere bandits. The Goblins have broken the treaty!” said one of the riders

“Enough of politics! There could be survivors down there!” said another

“You know as well as I do that there have been no survivors the last eleven times.” said a third rider

“Enough men, we will go recover what survivors we can and retreat back to the keep. This was our last farming village. If the Goblins want to shed more blood they will have to meet us there.” commanded the leading rider. The riders took off at pace down the hill towards the smoking village. A makeshift barricade once blocked the entrance but the goblins had set fire to it as they do to everything else and now nought but smoking piles of wood remained. In the village bodies lay like broken dolls, the people’s houses smoked where they were not aflame.

“There is nothing to recover m’lord. The people here are dead or long fled.” Said the first rider after a long silence

“We must recover what we can Sergeant! Winter will be soon upon us and we have little food at the keep.” replied the lord

The riders continued through the looted village finding nothing more but mutilated bodies and burnt houses.

“Perhaps we should try their barn, m’lord” suggested the third rider

“It will be the first place they looted but it will soon be dark. We will pass by the barn before we leave.” commanded the lord. Upon approaching the barn, the riders noticed it was the only building intact, goblin corpses littered the ground in front of it. The rider drew nearer and saw sitting up by the entrance a battered corpse, it had bled from a thousand cuts before dying, a scythe stood beside it covered in the blood of goblins. Pushing past the body and into the barn, the riders found the village’s food untouched by the goblins.

“This is enough for the winter m’lord! We are saved!” Cheered the sergeant, the door creaking open as he cheered.
A battered man stood in the entrance, in his hand a scythe.

“Stay away you filthy goblins! I’LL KILL YOU ALL!!”

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Alive At Least

Bright, hurt, throbbing in my, my head? Can’t concentrate words, no words. Dark.
Loud, movement, light again, hear voices.
“Isss it alive?” “Squelm says it breathess, must be.” “Hokai, then we keeps it.”
Dark again.

I remember we charged, right after the boards broke and were met by only three cave trolls, but that was two too many.
One of my strikes hit, then I was smashed to the ground. The strike must not have taken me with full force, else it would have left only a smear of me.
Slowly I can see forms around me, the rotten boards of a cart in bad shape appear before me and I turn around and see the lifeless eyes of Norsa, something behind him shuffles and Idrias head rises up.
He has a brutal scar slashed along his face and barely I croak “Martin?” with a sad gaze Idria shakes his head and I start sobbing and then weeping.
We lost so much in Berrydale and Martin kept giving us hope, only his courage enabled us to face our fears. I slowly swallow and deep regret fills me, the time never was right I should have told him about my feelings and now he is dead - I lost him, forever.

“No speakingsss” the carriage driver, a goblin with a pitiless expression looks at us. “Horaz says one is ded!” he yells to someone and halts the cart.
Without further ceremony two Goblins grab Norsa and throw him into some bushes.
I can’t silence my agony and as I sob and moan I get prodded a few times, but after a while they leave me alone.

At the evening a small camp is made and a goblin shaman uncaringly tends to our wounds.
He or she smears an evil reeling salve on us and I feel violated, only to then start itching everywhere.
We get some unidentifiable mash to eat and are tied up for sleep.
Come morning our wounds are much better already.

Bound on a cart we are driven into an uncertain future, alive at least.

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A collected bit of lore from Liyl, the Commonland Kingdom: A Combat History:

The Frigid Festivals

Although inspirational Anthems were a common technique of raising morale for Liylite soldiers during combat, the same was not so true for the civilians–namely so because they were too busy running away in fear or hiding away behind the walls of Liyl safehouses. So naturally, interest rose in ways to relieve the non-combatants once the conflict ended, especially in seasons with worsening weather.

Relatively early in Liyl’s history–during the fifth Fall season–Liyl was attacked by a hardened group of goblins from the Golden Arm (“hardened”, of course, in goblin standards). As the Liylites forced their retreat, the first snow of the year began to fall, backed by a serene, grey and white sky. It is unsure who said it that day, but it was so quiet after the battle, one soldier was able to be heard, saying:

“It’s like brilliant confetti. It’s as if the skies and heavens themselves celebrate the day.”

This casual remark led to one of the greatest, rowdiest parties ever seen in Liyl’s history. The houses and walls were repaired in record time, great bonfires were built, settlers ate hearty meals of the Fall Harvest crops, and, still unexplained to this day, the Weaver and his bed were found on top of the dining hall the next morning.

This led to the creation of a string of celebrations through the Winter called the “Frigid Festivals” to keep up the settlers’ hope and morale. This has become an annual tradition in Liyl, although smaller versions of it can also be seen throughout the year, held after successful repelling of invasions. Fittingly, they are referred to as “Not-so-Frigid Festivals”.

However, it should be mentioned not all settlers would be so happy the next day of each festivity during the winter–there is also the running tradition of a “Snow King” elected each year, whose ‘regal duties’ involve going out early the next morning to shovel the walk of all the fallen snow for everyone else. After all, who wants to get out of their comfy, warm bed in the Winter?

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Peace at Hearth

As the war of man and goblin drew to a close, all the great battles came to mind, such as the battle of Garments. Quite the riot it was, rumor has it that a group of goblins snuck up on a scout party while they were “relieving” themselves on some berry bushes. The resulting laughter forced the scouting party to retreat back to camp, thoroughly red faced. The next night a group of assassins were sent over to the goblin camp to “acquire” some goblin trophies. The uproar generated when the goblins jumped at the slightest draft could be heard all the way in the capital!

Thank goodness the two sides finally came together to sign a treaty, otherwise tailors would’ve made a killing in the stocks. Yes the two humanoids came together for a night no one could forget, and coincidentally no one could remember! Luckily we do have a written record, however many stained tavern napkins it was scrawled on.

“Holy Cid! That’s one strong brew! Tell me again how you fermented these berries?” said the captain, already at a loss of balance.

“Well first we squeeze the berries through a mesh of herbs ~hic~ then we barrel them up for a good five weeks. Finally, on the night of a full moon we all dance around it with our underwear on our heads ~burp~” replied the goblin commander, carefully balanced on an uneven stool to maintain eye level.

“WOW, thatsh shum really interesting ritual, nex-~BURP~” the captain looked dazed for a bit then locked arms with the small green baby and continued. “~hic~ next time you gotta bring me, for realsies too.”

The writer then continues on about how one of his hands was getting much larger than the other at quite an alarming rate. Then afterwards is a scribble of a sheep saying moo and “haha, you’re too funny Gerald! XD” written next to it. On a separate napkin are instructions on how to play “spin the goblin” and an adorable drawing of a human and goblin holding hands and smiling.

Thus we can conclude all ended well.

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Very late I know, I hope I made it on time! The stories a bit of both topics since I didn’t get to make the first round but I hope you all enjoy it!

The sun slowly began to set over the ruins of the town of North Greenstone. Its mayor, Samuel, slowly walked down the stone streets, hands folded behind his back, while his guard captain, Davion, followed closely behind. The stench of death and smoke burned his nostrils and made him sick to his stomach. He passed what was once the clothier, the embers of the fire still smoldering on its foundation. He remembered just earlier that week, the weaver’s daughter had given him a brightbell flower as he passed the newly constructed building. He shook his head and continued walking. The lifeless corpses of orcs, goblins, and footmen alike were scattered all across the town square. How could he have been so naive? To think the lessening in goblin raids was a good sign… Was anything- anyone- left? Everywhere he searched he found nothing but death and sorrow in spades. He reached the foot of a small cliff, where an unnatural amount of orc and goblin corpses were gathered. What he found then shocked him… Hope.

From the top of the cliff emerged a shape, a ladder, that slowly reached the bottom and down came… his townsfolk! One by one they emerged from the cliff, beaten and battered, but ALIVE. He couldn’t help but to fall to his knees and weep in joy. The orcs weren’t bright enough to bring ladders with them to pursue up cliffs… Thank Cid! He composed himself and looked among all of his townsfolk- his family, and narrowed his eyes in determination. “We have work to do!” He declared in a booming voice.

-One month later-

The mayor strolled down the street with his head held high, the town square was bustling with activity, all the new shops had several customers each outside them. He stopped by the clothier and left something on the windowsill, a brightbell flower. He took in a deep breath and glanced around, the town back to the way it should be, the new wall project slowly being built in the distance. He swore he’d let nothing change this ever again.

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Clocking in at exactly 350 words, barely in because I mixed up noon and midnight:

       As the air finally cleared, it was obvious repairs were needed. Jeren the footman was sent to fetch the engineer.

“Excuse me, miss,” he asked Lorna the alchemist, “have you seen Pyat recently?”
“Yes… I brought him food a while ago. He’s locked himself in his chamber with another theory.”
“Doesn’t he do that a lot?”
“Yes, but not like this,” said Lorna, nervously. “He has no emotion. I know how much he likes math, but he’s not acting human!”
Jeren also expressed concern. “Liking math? Definitely not human.”
“No. This is serious. He won’t answerhis door… A while ago, against his wishes, I had another key made.”
She handed it to Jeren, and continued. “When you interrupt him, he’s not going to be happy. Please be careful - don’t hurt him.”
“Thanks, miss,” said Jeren, “I’ll do my best.”

       Jeren descended the stairs in the
gazebo-like structure. Fifty steps later, he opened the door. Pyat
immediately turned to look. “A distraction? WHAT IN CID DOES ITWANT?”
“Well,” Jeren explained calmly, “the last battle’s left Berry Glen in terrible shape. We need you to supervise the repairs.”
“A minor detail. Much less important than my -”
“This isn’t a choice. You’re coming with me.”
“I WILL DEAL WITH THE DISTRACTION MYSELF!” Pyat lunged at Jeren. However, Jeren had already left the room. Pyat fell face-first.

“He won’t listen to me. Lorna, is there anything you can do?”

       Pyat looked up from the floor as sheopened the chamber.
“Another distraction? Still no.”
“Pyat… you can’t do anything down there. At least stand up. Do it for your math, for your town, for me.”
He reluctantly stood up, extremely hunched over. “I remembered being taller.”
“That’s because you’ve been sitting for a week. Let’s take a walk.”
“Fine.”

       They finally reached the surface.
“Wow, it’s so bright… and beautiful!” exclaimed Pyat. “It smells like spring!”

It was winter.

“I’m sorry, Berry Glen! I’ll make it up to you!” And with that, he ran off to do his job.

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given that I was away from my PC all day, yes… yes you did! :smile: :+1:

submissions are now closed, but voting will remain open until Wednesday @ 12PM CST…

thanks everyone!