Scribe's Contest XIV - Winners!

Reaver · 27 August 2023 21:16

“Hashut has entertained your tales of merit and delivered his judgement by fire and ash”

After a great moot, results for the 14th Scribe’s Contest writing competition have been tallied!

Subject Matter: The Bold and the Bastardly - Character Lore

We had a great turnout with entries almost numerous enough to rival our Golden Hat contests! Glad to see some carryover from the recent Character Golden Hat following through in lore format. And now, the winners!

Entry #13: @Brawniac

Full Text

Sequins, Skulls, and Slaves:
Ashgar’s Hat Conundrum

“Not enough hat…” Ashgar Golden-Nose thought critically as he examined himself in the mirror. Wearing his full war panoply in his living room, he looked ready for anything.
Preparing for a slave raid took meticulous attention to detail, as he had learned to his cost.

His wardrobe slave, a hobgoblin answering to Fidget, lurked nervously beside a mountain of hat-boxes.
Ah yes, the hat. Always the most difficult choice. The specimen he wore now complimented his golden prosthetic nose brilliantly, but the dark velour clashed with his moustache.

Not that his moustache was much to look at. His own wife had a bigger one, for Hashut’s sake. Ashgar sighed. The women of his race where hidden and guarded jealously. Ostensibly to protect them from the evils of the world, and to hide their beauty from prying eyes. But Ashgar suspected that shame was involved as well. At least in the case of the monstrous harridan he called “Yes, dear.”

He abandoned this depressing line of thought. “Fidget,” he demanded “You despicable offal of a dog, bring me the really big hat.” Fidget remained motionless. “Er…” the Hobgoblin tried. “They’re all… They’re all pretty big, m’lord…”.

Ashgar had famously little patience. “The big one! With the sequins, the skulls and the golden arrows!”

Fidget looked panicky.
“Could you narrow it down a little, m’lord?”

His lord’s countenance now matched the dark velour perfectly. “The super tall one! With three levels and the golden skull with a spike on top!”

“That’s still all of them, m’lord!” Fidget wailed.

Ashgar unfastened the Nr. 3 whip from his belt and said in a perfectly level voice: “Fidget… Add New Wardrobe Slave to my sacking list, will you?”

Entry #12: @ashur

Full Text

North of Uzkulak, where the highlands give way to the northern moors, a horde rushes towards him, and he feels nothing but anger, thinking of so much wasted time.

He doesn’t feel much of anything anymore, neither the freezing wind nor the earth shaking. Four hundred of his kin raise shields and openly relish the coming slaughter, and all he can do is look at his hand.

It barely looks like something that once was alive. It is fossilized, almost part of the basalt throne waiting for him in Zharr-Naggrund.

STATUE.

The word intrudes, as so often, and for a moment has free reign in his mind.

SOON.

He banishes it and bars the gates. His mind reasserts itself; his eyes go back to the wall of flesh trying its luck, again.

Manlings.

Scum, braying their oaths to the vermin gods of anarchy, their minds too primal to harness power without degenerating. Contempt shields him like an armor, contempt for the two-legged animals subverting Hashut’s order, contempt for the northern gods wallowing in their own madness.

Contempt for his kin, lost in their petty ambitions, finding contentment in killing cattle, planning the succession behind his back.

Let them. Let them dream of a future without him! They will never see such a day, he knows, for he has seen what no one else can.

As years pass, the curse takes its toll, reality blurs like a veil. He can barely see his brothers anymore. He can barely care for the coming battle. More and more he closes his eyes and sees the future.

Himself, petrified, eternally alive.

SOON.

But it will never happen. For as years pass, he sees something else. Deep in the roots of the world, where reality unravels, he sees the Dark Father, the Black Bull, lurking in chambers of magma. Chambers oozing a tick, crimson tide, a river of liquid rubies, sliding up between rock and ore. Slowly crawling into reality.

The blood of Hashut, the blood of the Father. Power given form. New life for him. And for his god, supremacy.

He will find it, whatever it takes. Success is the only ritual Hashut rewards.

He will succeed. He is High Priest, and he will be until the world shrivels into cinder!

“FOR ZHARR-NAGGRUND!”

He roars, he raises the hammer and four hundred dwarfs answer in kind. The marauders crash on the shield wall and barely move it.

Only now does he feel the old kinship. The pride of killing with his clan, of restoring order with every swing.

He even dares to think he misses it.

WEAKNESS .

No more. He cannot go back. The High Priest cannot retrace his steps.

So he banishes the thought and kills vermin.

He cannot feel their blood on his face. He doesn’t feel much of anything anymore.

But he will. He will again. Somewhere in the Darklands, the great drill stands and waits.

So he laughs, he laughs, and kills vermin, and dreams of anvils resonating into eternity.

Entry #4: @MudHutGrug

Full Text

It’s a different life, sure, but nothing can beat it.

The shunting, whirling and hurtling of the great machine beneath Karlum reminds him why he calls himself “King.” For this machine is Karlum’s “kingdom.”

It isn’t what many of his kin would call a “kingdom,” sure, sure… but to him it sure does beat the life he used to live.

You see, Karlum is a caravan master. Moving across the world in an enormous land ship in search of plunder, trinkets and treasure. Karlum considers himself a collector of rare baubles and potent weapons, proudly entering battle with an entire arsenal to file through.

Karlum looks out to the glittering sky and rolling hills of a foreign land far from home. He reclines back into his pampered, stolen seat. The open air and sunshine tends to disagree with his crew, who would prefer the smog and darkness of Zharr Naggrund. Not Karlum. Though he doesn’t admit it, the quarters beneath remind him a little too much of home.

Taking a long draw of his pipe, Karlum lets the pristine, unsoiled landscape overtake him.

With the aid of the sweet leaf he smokes, he is now forced to remember.

Ka-thunk! Kling! Ka-Splat!

A body there, a sword there, a severed head somewhere else, Karlum wasn’t with it that day. The clang of battle isn’t a place for thinking, it’s a place for doing. And Karlum was certainly doing. He glanced anxiously, checking for any stray arrows. Though he knew an axe to the back of the neck was far more likely. With trembling hands he begins scooping up the coin pouches of his fallen comrades.

“Hashut rewards those who take” so they say.

Choking on a bad puff of smoke, Karlum’s reminiscence shifts to a new place…

This new place is dark and heavy. A fell mood hangs thick in the air. Dhrath Zharr courts are never a good sight for anyone.
It was a shame that while he was purse snatching, his Garrison Overseer had fumbled the last battle so badly that both he and his retinue were now subject to punishment. Karlum included.

It’s a show court. The verdict is already decided.
With the grim sentence struck in iron, Karlum had time to think.

“To be fair,” he thought to himself, “the infernal life just ain’t for me…”

Karlum wasn’t going to pay for someone else’s mistake. He never understood why his kin would just go ahead with it because of some dumb oath.

“Hashut teaches us to take, not to give.”

Karlum lets out a spluttery cough. It is dusk now. About 40 miles North where he dozed off. He reflected on his youthful sentiment and laughed.

“To take indeed!” glancing towards his treasure carriage, “To think I could’ve been stuck at home all my life. Ha!”

Karlum did as Hashut would. He stole 450 Dhrath Tons worth of train. Hijacked straight from the depot. And now he is barreling forward with it.

Forever taking, and never giving.

Karlum, King of the Caravan.

1st Place - Gold Scribe Winner: Entry #13 - @Brawniac
2nd Place - Silver Scribe Winner: Entry #12 - @ashur
3rd Place - Bronze Scribe Winner: Entry #4 - @MudHutGrug

Also, many entries trailed bronze by one or 2 votes. Well done all! Should anyone have received a Scribe’s Veteran Medal by entering 5 Scribe’s Contests, please PM me.

The Entry Key!
Link to Entries

1 @Admiral
2 @Gargolock
3 @Pyroven
4 @MudHutGrug
5 @Hashoooot
6 @KhamdrimSkyMaster
7 @Uther.the.unhinged
8 @Fuggit_Khan
9 @Hotstuff
10 @Oxymandias
11 @Lord_Aldades
12 @ashur
13 @Brawniac
14 @Reaver
15 @flagellant04
16 @Loidrial
17 @Jasko

Medals are incoming! If you wonder how many votes your entry received, PM @Reaver

And now for the gold prize, awarded to @brawniac from @chitzkoi who has graciously hoarded horny hatshits to satiate the needs of nipple ring enjoyers everywhere.

While the @ashur will take home two printed bastards from the existing bastardly bastards of brazenitude

Whereas @MudHutGrug wins a choice of 2 banner flags modeled by @Hotstuff

While @jasko randomly draws the short straw and secures everlastingly fleeting eternally brief immortalization of death in the vaunted halls Among the Wicked Dawi. Please contact @chitzkoi to plan your inevitable demise in the wondrous classic.

The winners will be contacted shortly via PM.

A big “thanks” to everyone who participated and voted!

Be more than welcome to post the entries as new threads (or posts in your own army blog thread associated with the miniature version of the titular lord) in the Stories and Background section of the CDO Forums.

A Scribe’s Contest section will soon be set up in Contest Galleries.

That concludes the fourteenth installment of the Scribe’s Contest. It is a valuable addition to the growing mass of Chaos Dwarf and Hobgoblin writings accumulated on CDO. Well done, everyone!

Next up: The Artisan’s Contest!

The Staff

Jasko · 27 August 2023 22:01

Congratulations to the winners, well earned. Also everyone else, what a great competition. And many thanks @Reaver for all your efforts, you’re a legend.

flagellant04 · 27 August 2023 23:16

My exact choices Well done! Incredible penmanship and well deserved wins all around!

Reaver · 28 August 2023 01:45

Looking forward to how arch-scribe @chitzkoi kills you off in a future season of AtwD. I like this random draw. Has real stakes to it.

Lord_Aldades · 28 August 2023 04:27

A big congratulations to all the wordsmiths on one hand, and the victorious ones in particular

Loidrial · 28 August 2023 05:28

Well done to the winners, I guess!
I absolutely read them all, and as everyone here knows, I enjoyed reading them so much, that I will take some more time reading them once more.
Reading is truly my passion.

Well done

Brawniac · 28 August 2023 05:30

Hashut be praised!!! I wish to thank all hat-heads, the Academy and @Reaver in particular!

What a week I’ve had!

Congratulations to all who entered! It takes guts to put your mind on the slab, as it were.

All entries deserve praise, but my personal favourite was @Jasko. Great stuff!

Also props to @Loidrial! I need to smuggle a certain vegetable into my sculpts somehow.

MudHutGrug · 28 August 2023 06:39

My first badge congrats to all you crazy bastards!

ashur · 28 August 2023 07:14

@Brawniac and @MudHutGrug, I betted on you two! Congratulations! And congratulations to all of you!

Jasko · 28 August 2023 07:34

Thanks, mate, much appreciated! And I can honestly say: right back atcha

No Böttchers were harmed in the making of this story. All names and places are works of fiction and similarities to real people are purely coincidental.

edit

Ohhhhhh now I get it, completely missed that! Chuffed for this!

Dear Chitz: https://youtu.be/eIdTNyJp38A?si=CXlmCemk2os926LA&t=80

Brawniac · 28 August 2023 09:00

I am so 3D printing these.

Jackswift · 6 September 2023 19:48

A belated congratulations to the winners. Nice work gentlemen!