[Dr.Goomonkey]

Can it really be? Is it really here? After all this anticipation do you finally get to taste these marvelous entries that must have surely been driving your olfactory system mad for these last 48 hours?

I think you know the answer to that by now, and if you don't, scroll down.

This time around you can actually select your top 3 entries to vote for the prize in this qualifying round. Do remember that if you entered I insist that you vote and that you not vote for your own entry.

Now, let's see what the contestants have prepared for us. I had hoped to pare nice wine with each entry but, as you can probably tell, we were a bit rushed for time with a couple of grease fires coming up last minute so we had to go with the boxed stuff. At least that means we could triple the quantity...

Congratulations @Lumovanis
Scrabbling Claws

Bio:

Spoiler Alert!

The people of Kirv have a saying; never answer a knock at the door after sundown.

Reanimated hands scurry through the streets at night, searching for more victims to add to their ranks. They leave no corner unchecked and no stone unturned, for such is the will of their dark master.

@Lazy Orang 's Blodig Gnepdin

Bio:

Spoiler Alert!

Tullus Burrenius Lucilianus ran into the clearing, two other legionnaires by his side; his chest burning, gripped with panic. He knew not their names - it didn’t matter. Only their lives did now.
His legionnary column - two cohorts - had been dispatched by Einar to march north through Bleakwoode, to reinforce beleaguered forces in Annund. The march was hard, and the forest oppressive - each night he could swear he could feel eyes watching him from the trees. Then tonight, just before they had planned to camp, all hell broke loose.
Spirits, ethereal creatures, lunged from the trees - teeth, scythes, arrows striking Roman after Roman dead before his cohort even knew what was happening, as flames licked through the undergrowth, burning many alive. It didn’t take long before the normally disciplined Roman legions were in complete disarray, and the rout was swift and inevitable. Tullus had no clue how many others had escaped, but he couldn’t think it was many - and those who had were all but guaranteed to be hunted down. He’d heard tales, hushed and whispered, of the Varian Disaster, where three legions were lost, slaughtered at the Teutoburg Forest. He’d never been quite able to comprehend how horrifying it must have been to have been there....
As far as he could tell, though, this was worse.
He bent over, catching his breath, his grip on his gladius tight - he must have been running non-stop for at least a quarter of an hour, and his comrades were no less exhausted.
Suddenly, that feeling came upon him again. That feeling of being stalked, watched... hunted. He looked up, and red eyes bored into his own from amidst the trees. He could just - just - make out a slightly haggard face, scruffily-bearded, topped with a hat the colour of congealed blood. Tullus took a deep breath and gestured to the legionnaires behind him.
‘When I charge,’ he whispered, readying his gladius to his side and holding his scutum in front of him, ‘charge!’
He ran forwards, and the others followed, but just as he appeared to reach the creature... suddenly, without him even knowing what had happened, he was in the undergrowth, tripping over vines and falling flat on his face. He did not run here - something... unnatural had occurred. He looked up, mud smearing his face, and saw those red eyes again, and a gleaming, sharp knife close to his throat.

*********************

The redcap smiled. The blood of his hat was almost dry - he’d caught his prey just in time. Swiftly, he slit the Roman’s throat, delighting in his last few gurgling breaths of life before Tullus went limp. Quickly, Blodig Gnepdin - for that was the redcap’s name - took his cap off his head and soaked it, thoroughly, in the legionnaire’s blood, before donning it again, his survival ensured for just a little longer.
He picked up his blade, and stood up straight. The blood wouldn’t remain wet forever, and there were more victims yet to murder.

@superfrog 's Deepwater Spawn


@kmgenius 's The Dirty Bubble


@Sir Heroscape 's Druaga


@Arch-vile 's Ebony Midnight

Bio:

Spoiler Alert!

While flying through the Feldspar jungle during a full moon, Aquilla found one of her soldiers' camps burnt to the ground. The soldiers themselves had all perished, and in bizarre ways. One soldier seemingly fell upon his own sword. Two others apparently shot each other with arrows during a training exercise. Another seemed to be killed by falling off the guard post, despite having wings. The fire itself looked to be cause by an errant lightning strike.

Within the rubble, Aquilla heard a faint meow. She scooped up a small bundle of fur who purred back at the startled Archkyrie. She recognized it as a cat from Drake Alexander's stories, though Aquilla had never seen such a creature on Valhalla. The cat had bruises and scrapes all over, and it was as gaunt as a skeleton. Tears filled Aquila's eyes; were these wounds caused by her own soldiers?

The cat stared deeply into Aquilla's eyes, and Aquilla saw great pain within them. She vowed to treat this cat better than her dead soldiers had. "I shall call you Ebony Midnight, and I will help you." Her fellow kyrie objected, wishing the strange creature to be put down, but Aquilla was steadfast. No innocent being would suffer on her command.

@Iron Clubber 's Maz'Gath Demon


@Scytale 's Mortanis


@Scud-O 's Runespiral


@mac122 's Skeletal Dwarf

Bio:

Spoiler Alert!

Errant magic, it was. The wizard’s misspoken incantation, meant to protect the lives of his Dwarven comrades, brought something very different, indeed. Terrified, he watched as the skeletal remains of fallen Axegrinders rose from their bloodied and battered corpses. But as these skeletons picked up arms and armor and continued the battle, his terror found a new home in the eyes of his foes.

@Astroking112 's Skrit

Bio:

Spoiler Alert!

Scurrying paws patter across the camp. Utgar's forces have stopped for the night, but the darkness does not slow the Ratfolk. Dancing between shadows from the campfires with her dagger at the ready, Skrit silently makes her way through the camp.

A twig suddenly snaps beneath her feet, alerting one of Utgar's Minions. Before he can speak, she releases her special serum, watching his eyes glaze over as he wonders absent-mindedly away. She has a target to destroy; and she'll reach it one way or the other.

@kolakoski 's Terribelle


@Astral Herring 's War Pig

Bio:

Spoiler Alert!

Hekatiane's little band of combustible spirit-pigs originally met their undignified, corporeal end by being doused in pitch, set alight and driven in squealing terror by their Roman masters towards bands of war elephants - who, predictably, reacted by trampling their own soldiers to death before being slain by their own side as renegades. The souls of these incendiary porcine warriors, having wafted into the afterlife on bacon-scented clouds, were gathered tenderly by Hekatiane, and settled in grassy cradles to rest and reflect. During this gentle, nurturing phase, for every pig graced and transformed by swathes of transcendental insight, there was always one - or more - who just didn't get the hang of this after-life thing, and wanted to get straight back on the ride and kill more elephants. Such is the nature of the pig you've sadly chosen to boost your army; please be aware that he's nothing more than a murderous bundle of snouted joy, whose entire reason for being is, quite simply, to prove that size doesn't matter.

@NecroBlade 's Xvlthc

Bio:

Spoiler Alert!

All Xvlthc wanted to do was travel and make friends. Xvlthc got to visit many places, though he could never quite remember how he got there. But everywhere he went, others went with him. While Xvlthc was happy to meet new people and see new worlds, the others were angry, confused, and scared. And if they ever looked down and figured out this was all Xvlthc's fault (even though he didn't know it), they would certainly not be his friends.