[Contest] The Epic Screenshot Display

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[Contest] The Epic Screenshot Display

Post  Dryll Drakoonus on Wed Mar 09, 2011 1:36 am

March's Contest is here... and ready for submissions! The rules this time, are as follows-

It will be your job to take an EPIC screenshot in game of something, post it here, and then wright a paragraph describing a story going on in the picture, dialouge, description, ETC. Make it engaging and fun! It can be serious, heart wrenching, comedic, tragic... whatever you want!

Rule 1.) Must be a Screenshot taken in World of Warcraft (C)
Rule 2.) Screenshot can be from your past collection of screenies, does not have to be recent.
Rule 3.) Submissions MUST be posted in this thread to count
Rule 4.) The longer, the better :3

The Deadline for this Contest is Thursday, March 31st. All submissions after that date will be voidededed :O

So, go wild guys! I'll post an example submission at a later date. For now... KHAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!



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Dude! Where is my egg?

Post  Alyvia Scarlett on Sun Mar 13, 2011 7:43 am

The sun had reclaimed its rightful place in the sky, painting the clouds with ribbons of pinks, oranges, reds and purples. It was a breathtaking sight to anyone in Surwich who dared to rise before the sun just for the picturesque view. Lazy winds stirred to life, bringing with it the salty bite of the ocean that clung to the nose like a pleasant promise of the day to come. For Alyvia, the land, the atmosphere was peaceful. It was the sort of calm that lazed her bones and had her reclining on the deck, blue eyes fixed on the heavens above while the gentle sound of the lapping water sang to her. A lullaby of sorts for any who cared to listen.

A silent sigh tumbled from the shining lips, mixing immediately with the invisible current of air that flew in from the seas. Hoisting herself up from her supine position she breathed in deep, savoring the scent of the ocean and the memories it held, some of them good and some of them painful. As the events of the last few years came flooding back it brought with it a strong desire to drown her sorrows in ale. Alyvia forced herself to her feet and with an absentminded brush of her hands shook dirt from the folds of her pants. A ghost of a smile lifted the corners of her lips as her fingers brushed something hard beneath the fabric, the mace she had secured to her back before her departure from her temporary shelter. The subtle swish of fabric kept rhythm with her feet as she exited the dock and stepped onto the dusty streets, her piercing eyes staring forward to avoid conversation with any random soul that would cross her path. Despite her calm demeanor Alyvia was in no mood for meaningless banter while her brain replayed images of a not so distant past.

Her self induced trance was broken only when the stable loomed into view, her feet quickening their pace as if controlled by an involuntary system. The hour was early but the stable was dependent enough to be in operation. It was here that Alyvia would sit for hours, watching over her eggs to see the first signs of life of a mere chicken.

Hours passed by in a slow crawl and soon the stable were filled with another sitting infront of his chicken bin. By this time Alyvia had reached her fifth ale and the soothing edge of inebriation was clouding her brain. Through a drunken haze she would sit and watch her eggs or, shifting her eyes to count how many eggs he had. -Three - compared to her -Five-.

"Ye be lookin' awful familiar. Do I know ye from somewhere?--And you only have four eggs."

The slurred speech of an unfamiliar voice reached her ears and had her turning her head in the direction of an equally unfamiliar face. Confused by the inquiry she merely stared with a blank expression which only seemed to anger. For a full minute she stayed seated, slender hands wrapped around her warm glass, as her glazed eyes wandered his body.

"I think you have the wrong lass. And I don't have four, it's five...learn to count."


Aly's voice sang with the accent of her native land, made stronger by the ale she had been sipping on since sunrise. As she turned her gaze to the half emptied glass the man seemed unsatisfied by the answer and reached out a sinewy hand to grasp the young woman's upper arm which he yanked to turn her to face her chicken eggs, eyes large with drunken rage.




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