Golden Age Hero Contest

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Miranda of Admin
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Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby Miranda of Admin » Sun Mar 12, 2017 4:59 pm

Write about a golden age hero of your own creation. Be as detailed as you like - you could include appearance, gear, famous exploits... anything you like.

You'll find out after the contest ends.

Word count: None (no minimum, no maximum)
Deadline: April 30th 2017
Submission: Post your entry in this thread, clearly marked with the character number and name of the person entering it. Yes, you can team up.
Number of entries: One per character (not player - if you want to write more than one, have at it)
Format: Prose, poetry, song... up to you.

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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby Turcko » Mon Mar 13, 2017 7:47 pm

Turcko – 21839
So through my youth living at cousin Falx’s, Uncle Monde used to tell us bed time stories about the exploits of this hero of the Golden Age. ‘Twelve Stings’ Santiel as he was known. According to Uncle Monde, the Golden Age had wondrous cities with markets wide as one can imagine, filled with the most incredible items, pets, potions and spells. Not only that, but on adjacent parts of each city there were the invention houses, that supplied the merchants with the newest creations of the various inquisitive minds that flourished in the Golden Age.
With a head filled with black curls always held in place by a pair of working goggles, Santiel started as one of those inquisitive minds. Not particularly tall, not incredibly strong, not dashingly handsome, Santiel was to the unwary eye, average as average can be. He prided himself on his craft though, being a master of explosive materials and strange machines. A Rochemist he was called, a profession that mixed the one of rogue and alchemist.
His most remarkable creations were two stingers. Uncle Monde described these ‘stingers’ by closing the fingers of a hand except the index and thumb, pointing the index at us and the thumb upwards. He said that each stinger could fire six miniature cannonballs really fast and really accurately. ‘Twelve Stings’ Santiel could hit an apple square in its center from one end of a busy street to the other!
One of my favorite Santiel adventures was the time he faced a desert scorpion to study his sting to try and improve his own stingers. It has been some time since I heard Uncle Monde tell it, and he did so with the most amusing gestures to accompany the tale, which I’m unable to replicate, but it went something like this:

Twelve Stings got up, Sunrifter just rising
‘What to do this turn?’, he asked fantasizing.
He went down to his workshop, looking about
‘I could do some improvements’, he muttered with doubt.
He took hold of his stingers, safe by his side
‘I’ll walk for ideas’ and opened his door wide.
He saw far away, over the city walls
The burning hot desert, where rain never falls.
‘That place is quite deadly, all would agree’
So he ventured to the sands, brushing his goatee.
He searched for some time, not knowing for what
Until in the distance, a thunderous ‘clack’!
A great desert scorpion, the venomous kind
Was coming for Santiel with a ravenous mind!
The hero drew a stinger, the beast did the same
Santiel focused, and surely took aim.
He fired two rounds, both hit the mark
‘What sturdy armor! It did nothing but spark!’
The scorpion drew near and swung with his tail
And that could very well be, the end of this tale.
But Twelve Stings was fast, for he ate all his fruit
He rolled to the side, and stood resolute.
‘I see you are fierce, but make no mistake’
‘I found the place where your armor will break’
He dodged both pincers and even the sting,
But this time dodged bellow the belly of the thing.
The scorpion was dead, in the blink of an eye
‘Your belly is soft!’ Santiel shot with a cry!
He studied his foe, the sting most of all,
‘I could use your venom’ and filled a whole vial.
He got back to his place, barely breaking a sweat
His mind racing with ideas, forgotten the threat.
And so it was that Twelve Stings Sentiel,
Not knowing any better… killed the demon scorpion Clackapel!

At this point we would break into laughter about the scorpion’s name and go to sleep, dreaming of adventures.
Growing up with the Mondes was awesome!
Turcko, Falx Monde, Ivan Monde, Argoth


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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby Turcko » Mon Mar 13, 2017 9:22 pm

Falx Monde – 25249
While other heroes and stories Papa Monde told us were good enough, in my eyes none compared to those about Molynaq'erahlik, the dragon mage-king of the Golden Age!
In the Golden Age dragons were more common but still few in number, which made every single one of them famous in some way. But most of all, king Molynaq'erahlik. He was benevolent you see, and old even by dragon standards when he got known. When he felt his age catching up to him he chose a barren area and filled it with life using his magic. His intention was to spend his remaining centuries nurturing this terrain so he could take his final rest in a place of beauty. Over time, however, nomads flocked to this new flourishing land seeking its bountiful woods, pristine lakes, and mountains filled with game for hunting.
Molynaq'erahlik didn’t notice these newcomers at first, so when he stumbled upon them it was surprising for everyone!
The nomads already had a small settlement set up when one turn Sunrifter itself was covered in the skies. Looking up they saw an enormous winged form that circled seven times before landing outside the wooden walls of the settlement. Now basking in the glorious rays of Sunrifter was a golden being, with leathery wings spanning the length of the settlement. Four horns protruded from the back of his head, two of them curving up and two curving down, all of them ivory in color. His mighty chest showed various scars, most of them ancient, and his front and hind legs were quite muscular.
Some of the settlers ran away screaming, while others knelt in awe. Molynaq'erahlik cast a calming spell over the settlement and addressed them, saying they were welcome in those lands for he meant them no harm.
After this initial encounter, the dragon returned increasingly often to speak with the settlers, teaching a chosen few the ways of the arcane, and accepting offerings of meat from the hunters. The reputation of this unique relation began to spread, and soon scholars and mages also began coming to the fast-growing settlement. The years passed and the settlement became a village. The village grew into a city. The city turned into a kingdom, with Molynaq'erahlik as ruler and protector.
The people of this land built a huge castle so the dragon could be protected from the elements. It was the size of a hill, with a throne room large enough to have Caer Laleldan itself fit inside, and there Molynaq'erahlik rested when he wasn’t passing on his vast knowledge. To accommodate the final wish of the dragon to see the beautiful lands of his making in his last years, there was a balcony in the throne room that allowed one to view the most beautiful lake and lushest verdant forest.
Mage-King Molynaq'erahlik the Golden Dragon. Wise, mighty, kind, had a lot of fun when he was young and tried to leave his mark in the lands when he got older. A role model for me, true enough.
Turcko, Falx Monde, Ivan Monde, Argoth


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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby Bifrost Janger » Tue Mar 14, 2017 5:18 pm

Tobias the Tinkerer - Golden Age Mechanic and Mages' Council Chief Gremlin Enchanter.


Tobias the Tinkerer appears alongside other notable Gremlins in The Lost Book of Great Gremlins. A largely forgotten work stored deep within the personal library of the Historical Society of Valorn. Other notable Gremlins include:
Reginald the Renegade - founder of the Hollowed Tree Tribe.
Freida the Gentle - Handmaiden to the Ogre Queen.
Trevor Trollrider - sole survivor of the Eastern Mountains culling.
Stinky Sabbie - Gremlin Witch of the Swamp Coven.


Tobias can be noted for for his contributions in the fields of alchemy and botany, and was among the team of alchemists that invented and developed the Healing and Power Potions that adventurers still use today. With his natural Gremlin resistance for all things ingested, Tobias tested all ingredients, brews and potions upon himself before his more delicate human colleagues.

Other works of note that can be affiliated to Tobias include; enchanted amulets, poofing powder, cannons and subsequently fireworks, fruitflower tea and jingle jangle dancing boots.

However, most notably, Tobias was the lone inventor and builder of the Golden Age Machine. A work of ingenuity that earned him title of The Tinkerer and secured him the position of Chief Mechanic. Testimony to Tobias's work, the Golden Age Machine still stands and works (mostly without hiccup) right up into the present day. Reasons why a Gremlin and Enchanter would build such a machine remain a mystery, with many spectaculating that it was purely built as an act of love and generosity by the eccentric Gremlin. Mirroring the sentiment, this could also be the reasoning behind much of Tobias's work in alchemy et al: The simple wish to share and exchange knowledge with his fellow humanoids.

The Golden Age Machine still stands and functions today due to still being regularly maintained by Crystal Guardians - as witnessed by the adventurers Synvasti Shymere and Iron Protector Viviyana. However this is where great mystery lies; it can only be assumed that Tobias planned for the machine to be maintained long after his death, but how Tobias managed the cooperation of the Guardians remains a complete mystery to modern techniques.


Tobias the Tinkerer was unfortunately accidentally killed during the great Gremlin culling of the Western Mountains which was carried out in order to claim land for the building of human guild halls. The sole survivor of the culling being Trevor Trollrider, who ridden to safety upon the shoulder of a passing mountain troll. It is rumoured that Trevor lived peacefully and unharmed among the Trolls until he became too old to move quickly and was ultimately sat on and killed.

The Gremlin Cullers of Milltown were fined ten platinum pieces and a sack of flour in punishment of culling a Mage Council Member, Chief Mechanic and Gremlin of Importance.


To those who knew Tobias personally he was an eccentric and innovator, with a great love for crochet, flower pressing and Gnomish Morris dancing.

He was rumoured to own fourteen pairs of korunga themed slippers, a pet poison frog named Bernard and often took afternoon tea with the Sea Dweller Death Lord.

The faintest whisper of Tobias's memory still remains, perhaps even unknown, to adventurers visiting the Golden Age Machine: With it still being customary, right up into this turn, to leave an offering or gift by the contraption: A cup of tea and a blossom, for the botanist that built it.


Along with the mystery of the Guardians, the invention of what looked to be a Flying Machine also died with Tobias. With only his sketches surviving long before his ideas could come into fruition. The Gremlin's notes read that, I's becomin increasinly fruztraded wiv flyin by cannon!


Bifrost Janger. 194945
And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it. - Roald Dahl

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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby quintine » Wed Mar 15, 2017 4:54 pm

One forgotten Legend
by Jarl Nightshade 195065

Arrul was young when he got his robes as a gifted enchanter. At an early age he had learned he could use the forces around him to enhance metals. This meant he was able to strengthen weapons and armor and give them properties that those metals did not have to begin with. It was to this nature that his talents began to develop.

Shortly after he obtained his robes he met a jewel crafter named Birse, who had the gift of combining jewels to make beautiful gems. The gems were exquisite pieces of art. They could shine like a star. This was a rare gift, but few knew she was so blessed.

It was during one of these bindings she performed that Arrul noticed his powers were amplified. Without even thinking about it, he sat and started writing. It was like he was in a trance. Only when Birse tapped on his shoulder did he even look to see what was written. It was a complex scroll of enhancement. But no matter how many times he recited it, nothing happened.

Birse, seeing her friend frustrated, asked what was wrong. He explained and told her that it seemed his new enhancement scroll was useless. While they talked an idea came to Birse to put that scroll into a gem. That way the gem could focus the power during the binding. They folded the scroll around a tiger eye. Then Birse bound it inside a topaz. The end result was a glowing gold gem pulsing with power. They decided to wait a week to let the gem draw more power. As the time passed, Arrul wrote more scrolls while Birse readied the gems.
Come the day of the testing their excitement was almost overwhelming. Arrul went to a weapon smith and bought a sturdy sword so they could test their new enhancement scroll. Arrul broke the gem and the parchment fell free, humming with the power contained. He recited the spell and saw the sword glow. It changed in quality to become a sword any smith or adventurer would love to own. He sold it for ten times it value.

Arrul and Birse used that money to buy more gems and set to work. They wanted to get enough to take their scrolls market. Once they had enough to take they set out to the castle. But on their way they were set upon by a group of bandits. The bandits murdered the enchanter and jewel-crafter and took the gems. They left none standing to see the next day. The bandits stole what they thought were precious stones. The never knew the true value of what they had in their hands.

These gems were sold, traded, or lost over the years. Not long after, their true use became known and the lords of the land sent forth knights to round them up. These knights became guardians of the crystals. All in thanks to Arrul the Enchanter and Birse the Jewel crafter - two heroes lost before anyone knew how great they were.

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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby Topaz » Mon Mar 20, 2017 3:26 am

Question: Are we allowed to use existing Golden Age characters such as Figmar the Astute or Idyna the Brave?

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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby Hojo Musachi » Mon Mar 20, 2017 7:22 pm

Strifegorge was not the most creative of names, but it was true. It was known to travelers of the path for the suffering the terrain would cause. Wheels would fall from carts having gone hundreds of miles without any sign of wobbling, boots would be swallowed by mud and the rocks would nick and tear skin or clothing on the tired and weary.

The Bears would steer clear of larger gatherings, but the Centaurs - the centaurs would see them as a right of passage or sport.

A battalion of knights, battle-weary and wounded traveled home. They had completed their mission against the Sea Dwellers for to the south and were returning home. They had made it through the grasslands, through the perils of Verthedge forest and were in their final stretch.

But disaster struck. Injured soldiers became stuck in the dirt by the dozen and overfilled carts sank under the weight of their haul. They could see the Fortress in the distance, the fires had dimmed with all Knights deployed and they all knew it would be a cold night's sleep, but it would be in a bed, after a meal they just needed to get moving, they were so close to home... then the sound came. The booming war call, which would precede the sounds of a galloping herd: The Centaurs were coming.

Those who could hold a weapon were given one, those who could sit were moved beside those who could not, and those who could stand did so : bandaged, bloodied, dirty and often bootless they braced for the raid.

The sound grew louder and louder as they were making it around the bend. The Centaurs did not know much of battle or tactics but from the countless caravans they had saked they knew that the humans were not as accustomed to the bitter chill as they were and a cold sword arm is a heavy sword arm, which they do not swing as swiftly.

However, this was not a failed caravan this was a battalion of battle-tested knights and these mountains were there home.

The Centaurs slowed as they saw this was not a merchant caravan. As they did there was a sound to the north, the groan of Strifegorges massive doors opened.

The Knights held their formation, but could not help but look and the Centaurs halted. The Centaurs, being hunters, were not accustomed or familiar with how to retreat, they have never needed to - a quick fight, a good haul of items from a caravan was what they were familiar with. They had always avoided engaging the Knights.

Out of the looming darkness came two spears. They whistled and flew through the air then thwack, thwack: Two down.

Young, confused and enraged the Centaurs roared and cried out and their brethren's deaths...but they were not given time to think. Curses, threats and all manner of completely unseemly, absolutely un-knightley threats and insults echoed out from the Fortress forcing them to act.

Do they fight the broken forces ahead of them? Or the...two more spears sailed through the air, thwack-thwack.

Two more, the voice boasted in their language.

The band of centaurs galloped north, wild emotional and fully of rage. Their clubs, axes and curved blades were held high as their cursing and taunts boomed against the fortresses high walls. .

The Knights watched as the raiders passed into the blackness and jumped at the screams of violent, bloody mayhem echoed back towards them. The few who could, moved towards the fortress, ready as they could be to deal with what laid ahead.

They could hear the battle was done, and the only sounds were of gasping and gurgling - but they didn’t last long either.

They paused as blood-soaked knight approached. She was coated from head to boot in viscera and blood, her posture being the only way to truly recognise her.

She raises a closed fist to the bloodied crest of her armour, wiping away what she could, to which her comrades promptly reply to.

Her name was Knight Captain Ferecil. She was alone having lost her battalion in a battle to the west.

From that turn on, she marched into battle with a curved blade forged in the depths of the Fortress and carried a rage that would punish her enemies for the loss she had endured.

Hojo Musachi - 79090

"I'm afraid, Isoyami, I have probably already said more than was bought by the Knight's kiss " - Shaerih

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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby Blythe » Tue Mar 21, 2017 7:36 pm

Golden Age Hero

Kaitlelind’s hand on the door was met by another. A small hand, younger than her own, belonged to Jovak.

“Don’t go, Kaitelind,” Jovak was shaking. If Kaitelind could not see the tremors of fear that increased with each of his breaths, she could feel it in his touch.

“I must. They only want one of us. You must stay here with the young ones,” Kaitelind attempted a brave smile, “You’ll be the old man now… and you will need to make sure they stay safe. They have so much life to live,” the small humor in calling the youth of less than seventeen winters ‘old man’ was lost in the gravity of the moment.

Outside the door men grew impatient. Their unintelligible calls and hoots were clear in their unnerving intent; even when those inside the Temple could not make out the words behind them.

Kaitelind stiffened her spine, lifted her chin to cast gaze beyond Jovak and to the huddled mass of children in the corner farthest from the door of the single room temple, “You will be safe when I go with them. They promised.”

Jovak shook his head, desperation in every word, “We have heard what these barbarians are like! We cannot trust…”

“I won’t give them a reason to burn the Temple,” Kaitelind interrupted. Her resolute tone softened as she looked back into the fear laden eyes of Jovak, “Now… please. Step aside. You have children to tend to.”

Jovak’s head hung love in defeat. His hands dropping uselessly to his side as he turned away from the door and toward the children. Kaitelind grasped both sides of his head to hold him still before he could fully step away and pressed a kiss against his forehead.

“Stay safe, little brother,” She released his head and wrapped her arms around him in an awkward, but lovingly firm hug, “Raise them with the same love…” sudden tears choked off her words and she released her young brother, pushing away to create a small distance at the same time.

The shouts and clanging of metal on the other side of the door drew shrieks of fright from the children as Kaitelind threw the door open. She stepped outside with a new sense of urgency. Once outside, the band of men that surrounded the small temple gave a chilling, unified howl that could only be described as viciously victorious in nature. Lacking in both hygiene and civility, the men gathered closest to the temple entrance held torches high against the darkening of night. They scowled and spat. Their sneers bared broken or missing teeth in many cases. Their weapons and armor still dripped with the gore of their latest battle and conquest. They reeked of death and drink. Her first few steps were with trepidation, but she wasn’t given the luxury of an opportunity for a change of heart. One of the closest men grabbed her by the arm and immediately dragged her forward. The stench of him bit her senses as hard as the fingers that tore into the tender muscles of her arm.

The stinking man brought her to a halt in front of another at the center of the gathering the brigands. He looked her over with narrowed eyes and curled lip; as if appraising the worth of gifted animal pelt.

His voice was gravelly, speaking made the scar across the apple of his throat move in an odd ripple, “She’ll do…” He gave the other man a half nod, taking Kaitelind's other arm in a momentary tug-of-war as he snatched her out of the other already painful grasp. He gave her another shove forward away from the temple and toward the darkness without preamble, “Burn it all.”

Kaitelind could hear nothing except the calamitous shouts of the men. There was a sickening joy in the murderous act they were orders, or permitted, to commit. Her own screams of objection were completely drowned out by the sadistic laughing and cheering that surrounded her. She was pushed again forward, spinning back see the roof had already caught in a patchwork of flame. Her captor blocked her way back toward the temple with a squaring of his hips as he pushed down on the tops of her shoulders to send her flying back and downwards onto the ground.

Desperation in those moments of seeing the dark streaks of smoke curling in and around the temple guided her hand as she reached out and found the hilt of the leader’s broadsword; drawing it out of its scabbard as she fell away. Scrambling for the both the strength to stand and lift this mighty blade with unskilled hands, Kaitelind found her footing again. It took both hands to hold the broadsword above her head, calling with all of her breath for the gods to give her the strength to save those inside the temple.

She charged against the band of brigands that attacked the temple.

A brilliant spark of lightning struck down from the sky above. Kaitelind and her blade were bathed in a red aura of unspeakable power.

By the time Jovak emerged from the temple with the last of the choking, hysterical children clinging to him or held in his arms, Kaitelind was the only person standing. Her clerical robes now stained red with the blood of those that laid dead and dying across the grounds.

Her words reverberated with the power of the gifts of Sunrifter that left both her and her blade glowing in the night, saying finally, “No child shall fear death.”

And so they say a Golden Age Hero emerged.
Kaitelind the Protector: Battle Cleric and Savior of Orphans
I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of how awesome I am :D
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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby Zeric of Admin » Sun Mar 26, 2017 1:43 pm

Topaz wrote:Question: Are we allowed to use existing Golden Age characters such as Figmar the Astute or Idyna the Brave?


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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby purazon » Fri Mar 31, 2017 5:46 am

Since I have about half a dozen of these short stories about the golden age lying about:

For Purazon # 12387
Iron Knight Heroes – Cynthia Marnacor the Seamaiden
Despite her upbringing in the desert city of Agrabur, Cynthia Marnacor loved the sea. She enjoyed sailing and was delighted when she was assigned to Caer Soral. While there was no official war, the interactions with the Sea Dwellers had always been tense. According to the sea dwellers, fishermen were thieves.

Over the ages negotiations had brought forth a system of permits, where fishermen would offer goods to the sea dwellers –they were especially fond of fried giant ant legs -in return for permits to fish in certain areas.
Occasionally fishermen would cast their nets outside their permit and the sea dwellers would retaliate. This was not the only threat for the fishermen of Alornium though. Trolls would occasionally come to their village to still their hunger with fresh-caught fish, leaving destruction in their wake.
Cynthia Marnacor was admired by the fishermen both for her aptitude at the helm and for her skill in battle. She didn’t carry a shield but fought with a small net as a second weapon, entangling her adversaries or at least ensnaring their weapons to pull them out of their grasp and leaving them defenceless.
To honour her watchful defence of the coastal villages during countless battles, the fishermen raised a monument for her near the coast, where she would eternally overlook the sea that she cherished.

For Agiazon # 13389
Iron Knight Heroes – Adhemar Bromcon the Spiderbane
Adhemar Bromcon, raised at Waterhaven, was charged with leading the defence of Verth against an invasion of narcals, a dark-skinned race of spiteful gremlins. These narcals inhabited the grasslands southwest of Verth and were usually not considered a large threat. However, during the 34th cycle of the reign of High King Yaughachey they raised a veritable army and marched upon Verth, riding upon large spiders through the grasslands. Adhemar Bromcon slew dozens of spiders in the battle that ensued. Swift and agile he would dodge the blows of the spiders and their riders, as his two blades cut a path of destruction through the narcal army. Upon victory Adhemars forces razed the narcal town and they were utterly destroyed.

To celebrate this victory, the town of Verth created a small monument in honour to Adhemar Bromcon. Legend states it was built from severed spider legs from the field of battle.
Purazon 12387

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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby suncatcher » Fri Mar 31, 2017 6:59 pm

Before all is done
The Second Chain must be broken
Before there is peace
From the quiet must be woken
So sayeth she
The lady Neara the Silenced

Before all have bowed
Their every eye must be opened
Before all have hushed
Their every mouth out loud spoken
So sayeth she
The lady Neara the Silenced

Wear none their crowns
Keep each mindful and open
Hold none their titles
Keep those to their mere token
So sayeth she
The lady Neara the Silenced.

Don't seek me out
Wait in patience to make motion
Listen still for me
When you hear my beloved ocean
So sayeth she
The lady Neara the Silenced

- an old chant regarding a peasant hero of northern Valorn, whom stories hold vanished under highly suspect circumstances

(Cylena Flutermaus, #195195)

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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby RETIRED FROM DG » Mon Apr 03, 2017 9:47 pm

Thanks but no longer playing.
Last edited by RETIRED FROM DG on Mon May 15, 2017 4:58 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby Topaz » Wed Apr 26, 2017 6:14 pm

Re: the deadline, is that April 30 during the day, or midnight on April 29?

I'm writing as fast as I can.

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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby Zeric of Admin » Thu Apr 27, 2017 6:02 am

Let's say 23:59 EST on April 30th.

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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby Ellyana Lilli » Mon May 01, 2017 12:21 am

Golden Age Hero: The History of Delilah the Delicate

Delilah the Delicate is rumored to be the feisty feline incarnation of the human thief once known as Koneko. Koneko, whose name means 'little kitten', was an odd homely lady known for her thieving ways and overly aggressive affinity with felines -- not to mention the accompanying strong aura of feline urine which sometimes gave her away before she could finish burgling a house. Light and quiet on quick feet she walked on her toes much like a cat and was always surrounded by felines of all types; smaller cats curled around her feet and perched on her shoulder and an escort of larger predatory cats circling protectively. Along with her whips she utilized her felines in battle, commanding them this way and that - even hurling the small ones at charging enemies. This technique might not sound very effective but Koneko had mastered the art of feline-tossing and her savvy yet questionable techniques resulted in many enemies maimed and killed. Victims were scratched to ribbons and blinded from clawed-out eyeballs - and adding insult to injury left permanently carrying the stench of cat pee.

When not thieving Koneko spent much time worshiping, praying and performing strange little dances at the golden age machine, which she referred to as 'Tigris' the golden feline because she saw the machine as a giant golden tiger. Little was known about this machine but it was not uncommon for people to see the contraption manifest itself as something specific to themselves - appearing in a form meaningful to each individual who laid eyes on it. Koneko left offerings of milk, fish and rats each turn, never failing to visit Tigris, for she believed the offerings, worshiping and rituals performed at Tigris rewarded her with acceptance as feline kin.

One turn as Koneko and her clowder were chanting, prancing and rubbing against the Tigris to scent mark it abruptly fell over, crushing her and the cats - verily. They were so smooshed the only way to clean the mess would be to scrape up the remains with knives. However no-one wanted to do this because it was totally gross and they were afraid to touch Koneko for fear that whatever sickness gripped her would seep into themselves should her blood touch their skin and cause them to become crazy cat people. So the machine was set upright and secured but the blood and remains of Koneko and her felines were left to soak into the ground around the machine. Eventually all sign of the thief and her feline followers dissipated from sight.

All was thought to be well by the common folk, who seemed to live by the theory that ignorance is best but unknown to anyone the bits and blood had merged as they were absorbed, causing a reaction deep underground. Some turns later the ground began to tremble, turning warm and red as it did so. The machine began to shake and spit out gibberish scrolls while colorful orbs of meowing light shot out of the ground. Each orb connected to another as it sparked forth until the iridescent figure of a green-eyed feline woman with red hair and a staff strapped to her back came into view - wielding black and gold cat-o-nine tails in both clawed hands. The being grinned as she regained her freedom, revealing feline fangs. When later studied by trained eyes the gibberish scrolls seemed to resemble a series of purrs, yowls, mews and meows. The sroll studiers suggesting perhaps this was some type of incarnation in a feline language used to merge the spirits of Koneko and her felines into who is now known as Delilah the Delicate.**Descriptions of Delilah vary, and a few witness illustrations (past and current) are included with this document.

Delilah never admits or denies the runors. However her habitual use of cat puns and feline facts transcend the knowledge that only Koneko was known for - the similarities so obvious that rumors of how Delilah came to be quickly spread. Soon people from all over the lands were telling stories of their encounters with Delilah - heroine who protects felines and human followers from famine yet quick to smite anyone deemed deserving of such chastisement. Many began praying and leaving peace-offerings of rats, fish, milk and / or catnip with the hope that Delilah would accept them as her followers. Her loyal followers swore that their prayers and offerings, left in peace and with sincerity, worked wonders. Instead of becoming victims of crop destruction their homes were forever cleared of any subsequent vermin / rodent infestation and thievery. These traditions continued on though loyal families thus preserving homes and farmlands for generations. But those who mocked or spoke insincerely or irreverently about her, if not killed, had their eyes scratched out, permanently stank of cat urine and bore the ugly scars of her golden cat-o-nine tails. It's said Delilah sometimes visited taverns or temples and other places people gather in numbers to test their loyalty - luring them near with meowing declarations of protection and prosperity. And as they would gather around to listen she would discreetly sniff the air, smelling their collective thoughts. If she didn't approve of those thoughts she lashed out with her staff, sending brilliant rat-shaped sparks about as a warning of disapproval.

As for her maimed victims afflicted with the eternal odor of cat pee, none were prepared to care for them because of their horrible smell. So they were sent to live in isolation around the crags where they had to fight through feral felines, scavengers and other nuisances every turn for their meals. It is said most of these folks have gone completely bat crap crazy -- (or should that be cat crap crazy ...?) Whatever kind of crazy, contact with these folks has proven dangerous and as yet no-one has been able to confirm or deny the details of the stories. But one look (and one whiff) of these maimed, crazed stinky blind men is enough to make almost anyone a believer.

**It is not recommended to engage with alleged crazy people without proper knowledge! Doing so could result in injury and is done at ones own risk.

Witness illustrations of Delilah ((Entertainment purposes only -- NOT my work))




Written by: Ellyana and Pallas
118743 / 53943
Last edited by Ellyana Lilli on Mon May 01, 2017 3:09 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Ayla P
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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby Ayla P » Mon May 01, 2017 2:47 am

I feel sick. I just typed an entire story and lost it because I was automatically logged out. :x

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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby Topaz » Mon May 01, 2017 3:05 am

Please, by the gods, tell us you had backup.

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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby Topaz » Mon May 01, 2017 3:10 am


The Golden Ages sang Drusilla's name
whenever warriors' deeds were loudly praised;
the nobles drained their flagons to her fame;
the farmers and their wives and children raised
resounding cheers to see her passing by.
Dark leather, iron shield Drusilla wore,
and sword as bright as Rifter-light on high,
but shield at right, and sword at left she bore.
The shield was fastened to her good right arm
with straps of leather, for she had no hand
to hold the shield, to keep herself from harm.
And everywhere she went, throughout the land,
greetings and honour met her everywhere.
Who was that strong defender, warrior fair?

Who was that strong defender, warrior fair?
The daughter of an armorer was she.
Not steel, but leather, did she learn to wear
and make and mend and measure skillfully
with calloused hands. Her parents saw their daughter
stand proudly in the armor she had made.
"Go now, Drusilla, bravely to the slaughter,
defending all who call to you for aid!
Behold this blade, passed down from hand to hand,
made magical with scrolls that gave it light;
may you in battle now protect our land
with honour and with courage shining bright!"
So spoke her father as, with glad regard,
her mother gave her their ancestral sword.

Her mother gave her their ancestral sword,
and not a turn too soon, for danger spread,
and down the land like burning lava poured,
with smoke of terror and with flame of dread.
A Fireworm! called the watchman on the tower;
A Fireworm! gasped each messenger; the word
made farmers flee and guards and soldiers cower,
Drusilla heard the fearful news, and stirred,
and grasped her sword. She did not brag or boast,
nor trumpet to the world of her intent,
but with brief words to those she loved the most,
she asked the watchmen "Where?" and then she went.
With steady heart, with strong determined stare,
she sought the Blist'ring Fireworm in his lair.

She sought the Blist'ring Fireworm in his lair,
the labyrinthine tunnels far below.
In burning heat, in grim and gasping air,
she stalked the ways, until she found her foe,
who slithered forth with gnashing fangs of fire
and fierce attack. Her shield she flung away,
its metal growing hot, but dared the dire
and deadly peril, held the worm at bay,
then struck, and struck again! She felt her skin
and hair all scorched with lava-blood that boiled,
but drove her sword undaunted deep within
the Fireworm's vitals, till at last it coiled,
thrashing, and died, to flaunt its flames no more.
So she prevailed, though burned and wounded sore.

So she prevailed, though burned and wounded sore,
and treasured home and quiet while she healed.
The Fireworm's hide for armor now she wore,
made with her own two hands, and strongly sealed
(save for the gauntlet-leather, sparse and thin).
But now an ending comes to peaceful rest,
as danger rears its head with fearful din.
From deep in labyrinth where Fireworms nest,
a monster roared, and set the lands aflame,
and sought out farms and villages for prey,
and, as she ravaged, called Drusilla's name
as for revenge she clamored night and day.
The beaches melt to glass before her path;
behold! the Fireworm's mate comes forth in wrath.

Behold! The Fireworm's mate comes forth in wrath,
her coils of living lava red and gold.
Drusilla made reply. "I am the wall
through which you still must pass to reach my kin.
Come forth and learn if I will stand or fall.
I fought your mate, and now I wear his skin."
In fiery rage the Fireworm's mate attacked,
with gnashing jaw and scales of writhing flame,
and now Drusilla gave her ground, and backed
along a cliff, and as the Fireworm came,
Drusilla struck, held fast, and with her foe
she fell -- to water, deep and far below.

She fell -- to water, deep and far below
the cliff. In mighty clouds of steam and heat,
the Fireworm perished in the undertow,
but barely she survived her foe's defeat.
She washed ashore, through fortune failed to drown.
Her right-hand gauntlet's weakness now was shown,
for though her armor held (to great renown),
her hand burned black would never be regrown.
But evermore the villagers would call
"All hail the Fireworm's Bane!" as she went by,
"Left-Hand!" they called her, honoured most of all,
rejoicing in their hero's courage high,
who dared the fire and did not fear the flame.
The Golden Ages sang Drusilla's name.

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Miranda of Admin
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Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby Miranda of Admin » Mon May 01, 2017 9:10 pm

The contest is now closed. The only exception to this may be Ayla. As you lost your story you can still enter if you find a copy of your story or wish to rewrite it, just post it within the next 24 hours or so please.

Thank you for your fabulous entries, we will deliberate and be in touch soon!

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Ellyana Lilli
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Posts: 1886
Joined: Sun Feb 18, 2007 3:52 am
Location: The Beyond

Re: Golden Age Hero Contest

Postby Ellyana Lilli » Mon May 01, 2017 9:18 pm

Eeuurgghh....sorry that happened, Ayla. :?

I think the forum logs you off after 30 mins inactive so if you were typing the story directly into the forum message and it took longer then 30 mins sadly when you click submit you are back at the log in. Luckily Miranda has graciously offered you more time so if you take advantage to rewrite your story PLEASE use word or an outside program to write / save your entry then post it into the forum when ready. :)

'When there's no more room in Hell, the dead will walk the Earth' ~George A. Romero
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