Fan Fic Contest - Are you the best writer?

[Son of Arathorn]

Geez, the guy is a terrific writer, and and amazing prompt-giver/rule-breaker? Life, it appears, isn't fair.

[dragonfire9788]

Originally Posted by Son of Arathorn

Geez, the guy is a terrific writer, and and amazing prompt-giver/rule-breaker? Life, it appears, isn't fair.

I'm a pretty God-Awful dancer, though.
I was walking down the stairs to the quad this morning and some awesome funky music came on some dude's radio he had turned up loud to college radio.
Naturally, being a loser, I just had to bust a move for that raisin (the hip way to say reason these days, get with it).
I started to mimic moves I'd seen in my brief visits to 'the club' and to keep it decidedly retro, I added in some moves from Saturday Night Fever.
This went on for a few moments and I started to attract a crowd.
Most of the crowd members were females.
I went on, becoming less and less infatuated with the groove now that I'd attracted onlookers.
They started to point at my body pelvic thrusting into the wind and the ladies started to laugh.
I stopped and watched them all laugh while I held up my palms.
Sweat drenched my entire body and I took off running, only to trip on a discarded banana peel and land face first in a bowl of mash potatoes.
The ladies surrounded me and laughed while their fingers kept on pointing and as mashed potatoes are my only weakness, I had to wait until the man who left the bowl there came back and retrieved it until I could run back to my apartment and hide my face in shame forever.

Oh, and I'm bored, so I think I'll write my own story for this prompt. It won't count for the competition though of course.

[TGRF]

... I see. You know, that in itself is a pretty good story.

[Orcs Blade]

Oh DF. You even make being a terrible dancer sound good.

Aynway, I haven't had time to write yet (still on the end-of-break hangover), but I'll probably start sometime tonight.

[Orcs Blade]

Ugg, writer's block.

[Tornado]

No inspiration was brewing
Not even one bit
Writer's block weighs heavy
On the author of "Kit"

Women weep
The ground starts to tremble
Vultures circle
As two forces assemble

Blood on the Sands?
Or Death at the Gates?
Each writer chooses
As dragonfire waits

[dragonfire9788]

Originally Posted by Orcs Blade

Ugg, writer's block.

Happens to the best of us (we're all the best, because apparently its been happening to everyone so far). You all still have tonight and tomorrow to write.

Though it looks like this is going to be extended a week anyway, but please try and get your stories in by tomorrow night.

[TGRF]

I don't know about you guys, but I'm thinking Tornado should win, even with no entry. That poetry is incredible! I mean, for coming from a random forum site, ... just incredible!

[dragonfire9788]

Edit: How embarrassing. Not sure how this happened. Disregard this post.

[TGRF]

AHA!

Spoiler Alert!

A fiendish war cry split the calm night, jerking Dilmir awake in an instant. ‘Wolves,’ he thought.
Grabbing his cloak and sword from where they lay by his bed, he pulled them on and rushed outside. The night air was cool, and a breath of wind greeted him as he thrust aside the tent flap.
The clearing in which the tents sat was dimly lit by a few torches, but the dark bodies of the many trees beyond were shrouded in darkness, and seemed to crowd in on the small encampment, threatening to choke it into oblivion.
With his elven eyes, Dilmir could still only dimly see the dark shapes of the enemy rushing through the trees. Brief glimpses of red eyes or white fangs were all he needed to confirm his suspicion.
Most of the other Elven warriors were still in their tents, strapping on their swords, or fitting their armor. Only the two guards were outside, except for Dilmir.
Dilmir did not need all the armor of an ordinary warrior because he was special. He was something highly valued, and never overlooked, by the elves. Eh was a spell caster.
True, he was still a weak spell caster, being only fifteen, but he had an unnatural talent with magic. Where he had gotten his talent, it was not clear, for no magic ran in his family. All he knew was that, from about age six, he had always been able to make things do his bidding, to make things move from long distances away, and even to influence the growth of trees. Many of the other spell casters looked upon him with respect, for, even though they could easi8ly have bested his abilities at the time, they knew that one day he would become one of their most powerful spell casters.
Dilmir, even though eh had known he possessed magic for several years, was still trying to figure out precisely how to use it. Things never seemed to turn out exactly as he wanted, although his goal was usually achieved by some different means.
Dilmir had been sent with a small detachment of elves to the forest of the wolves, in order to further his skill. He was already a good swordsman, but could use practice in both that and his magic.
The elves had been battling the wolves over this forest for decades, and now they finally had the upper hand. Dilmir had not been sent to the front, of course, but to a small side expedition that should attract only a small amount of wolves.
However, looking into the trees beyond the tents, Dilmir saw that the number of wolves was anything but small.
Before eh could decide how to act, one of the two guards came racing up, started to say something, and then was jumped by a huge wolf which knocked him to the ground. The elf was dead in an instant, his throat cut by the small dagger that the wolf held.
Dilmir drew his sword, but saw that the wolf was too fast. He leapt backwards, just as the wolf pounced where he had been. What the wolves possessed in strength and speed, was made up for by the elves’ agility. Only vampires could equal them in their ability to avoid attacks.
The wolf turned, crouching low to the ground and snarling, his teeth bared. Just as eh was about to leap on the elf, Dilmir’s sword flashed upwards and sliced through the brute’s nose. The wolf reeled backwards on his haunches, a yelp of pain escaping his clenched teeth, but returned to the attack immediately.
This time, Dilmir, shifting his blade between his hands, thrust his right palm forwards. An invisible wall seemed to slam into the wolf, throwing him backwards, head over heels, and several yards.
Sensing that there was another wolf behind him, Dilmir sent him flying in a similar manner. He could see wolves pouring out of the forest, some using only their claws and teeth, some carrying daggers, and the rest holding the elves’ torches.
These they applied to the tents, and soon several fabric roofs were going up in flames.
By now, the majority of the elves had emerged, and several duels had broken out where foes were equally matched.
The superior agility of the elves usually assured them an easy victory in battle, but the numbers of the wolves were beginning to tell. Several corpses were already lying on the ground, either pierced by the elves’ blades, or slashed by the wolves’ daggers. The wolves were not winning, but neither were they losing. The tide of battle flowed back and forth, only to be brought back to equalize the opposing forces.
Dilmir, looking about him, spotted a wolf carrying a torch and running toward the tent from which he had emerged. Intending to trip him – magic always seemed to fail Dilmir when eh had to kill someone – he thrust his hand towards the wolf as if sliding it under some object. The magic, however, did not trip the wolf.
Instead, Dilmir’s arm suddenly glowed brown – an odd look – and he felt as if he had a very large bracer attached to it. Trying to rid himself of the peculiar sensation, he jerked his arm upwards.
As if in accord with his movement, the ground burst upwards in a straight lien from Dilmir. A long cord of earth, thick as a tree and long enough to reach the wolf, suddenly emerged from the ground, a hand and fingers just distinguishable at its end.
Frightened and confused by what eh had done, Dilmir backed away, uncomfortably aware that the earth mimicked the movements of his arm. Nothing like this had ever happened, and Dilmir was unsure what to do.
However, predictably, his magic had the desired effect upon the wolf. He was so startled by a giant arm bursting out of the ground that he dropped the torch, which extinguished itself in a puddle of black water.
Dilmir, finally realizing how he could use this strange magic, reached forward experimentally with his arm. The arm of earth copied his movements, and knocked the wolf to the ground.
It was very difficult to gauge the distance, but Dilmir finally managed to pick the wolf up and throw him out of the clearing. As eh did so, he became aware of three wolves converging on him from behind. He whipped around to confront them, and havoc reigned.
Not only did the arm of earth whip around, but a swirling vortex of earth appeared right where a head would appear, matching the arm. The wolves froze, knives raised, and uncertainly looked at the whirlpool of earth.
Dilmir, however, was preoccupied by other things. The strange brown glow about his arm had now covered his head, and was quickly flowing down him. He lunged backwards, trying to escape it, and the wolves sank into the giant hole made by the monstrosity that burst forth.
Dilmir froze, as did his creation, and stared at it. It barely had any definable form: only a lump of earth for a head, and two long, knotted arms, with a cone-shaped core of dirt for its body. It was buried chest deep in the ground, but what of it that could be seen was equal to how much of Dilmir was encased in the brown glow.
The battle that had been raging in the clearing a few moments before seemed to have suddenly ceased. All eyes, elf and wolf alike, were fixed on the giant earth figure that rose, black against the dark gray sky, form the ground.
Cautiously, Dilmir moved his arm a fraction of an inch. So did the creature, although its movement was proportional to its size.
That little movement seemed to awaken all the warriors from their silent gaze. The wolves turned and fled, casting looks behind them at the giant creature that still stood, motionless, half hidden in the ground.
After a moment, Dilmir realized that eh could not get rid of the thing. He was somehow connected to it, with no idea how to cease the magic. He tried visualizing the creature sinking back into the ground, but stopped when he felt his own feet descending likewise.
“What is it?” asked the elven captain, walking up to Dilmir and staring at the creature, awe-struck.
“I- I don’t know,” said Dilmir, “but I can’t get rid of it.”
“It follows your movements?” asked the captain.
“Yes,” replied Dilmir.
Turning, the captain walked in front of the creature, and slammed his fist into its massive chest. Nothing happened, except that Dilmir felt as if some of the invisible armor that now seemed to encase him slipped away. A sudden thought occurred to him.
“Stand back,” he said to the captain. Then, speaking the words so that he would not lose his focus, said, concentrating on the creature before him, “Eeahvalaa” Disperse.
The giant creature shuddered, and then shattered, its earthen fragments falling to the ground and settling back into the whole created by it. Dilmir felt the brown glow disperse as well, and when eh moved his arms, nothing happened.
Dilmir knew that tonight he had discovered some new form of magic, a magic that, if used properly, could become very powerful, and very dangerous. The thought frightened him, but he decided to pursue it.
He was a spell caster, whether or not he had no choice in the matter. If he was granted power, it was up to him to use it as he would. Either for protection, or for harm.
In the blackness of that night, although none of the elves knew it at the time, the most powerful spell caster that had yet been seen had just discovered his most formidable power.

[Tornado]

Cool story TGRF. I really liked what you had going there, neat concept. Well done.

[TGRF]

Ah, I knew there was something I was forgetting! The main character in that story is in the third book in my trilogy. DF wanted something that he hadn't seen before, and he came to mind. I'm glad you liked it, Tornado.