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 Posted: Sun Jan 12, 2014 11:45 am
From the HearthStorytelling Contest [1] Sentinel Female - Bell. [2] Weaver - Bell.
The old Sentinel of the Cliffs says,
"The eastern winds bring ash and rage,
And furrowed tooth and gaping maw,
Once the Splinter breaks its cage,
Run, or it will strip you raw." This Sentinel and Weaver pair have hailed from the farthest reaches of the Northern Cliffs, and it shows:
her hide is decorated with bird-bone and stained with red-stone and her claws are meant for gripping. Like all Sentinels,
she has seen and heard of monstrous tales of the Hearth, but unlike most Sentinels, she has met these tales and fled.
This is a storytelling contest, in which you must narrate a myth or legend about a monster of the Hearth.
The winner will receive the pair above and also have their story incorporated into official Hearthside lore.
Entries close at 11:59:59 pm PST on January 30th,
or when there are at least three entries, whichever comes later. MUST READ Information:
All entries must follow Hearthside’s rules as well as all Gaia TOS.
You may not enter for someone else – you must intend to keep both the Sentinel and Weaver if you enter for them.
You do not have to incorporate the Sentinel/Weaver into your response unless you so choose.
There is no official narration restriction on how you can tell the story - go forth and let free your writing style!
Entries will be judged on attention to Hearthside roleplay settings and current lore, creativity, adaptability to future meta plots, and general mastery of writing. Be sure to spell-check!
OFFICIAL PROMPT:
There are tales from those that live closest to the Hearth. The Sentinels that survive the ashen, oxygen-starved air and blistering heat of the Cliffs tell of the constant rumbling from the earth, as though the Hearth is slumbering. Foolhardy Sentinels that venture too close to the Hearth are never seen again except as bones and ash. Whispers passed down from parent to child call to stay away from the Hearth, for it is filled with vengeful monsters that hunger for the flesh of Sentinels. They are legends, most scoff, fever dreams from the heat. But some know better - some know that tales are not only tales when made of flesh and bone...
To respond to this prompt, please narrate a myth, legend, or cautionary tale of a monster or entity from the Hearth. Entries should have the feel of an oral tale passed through generals of Sentinels to their children, either as learning lesson or a spiritual belief. Feel free to invent lore, characters, creatures, and settings as long as they fall within existing Hearthside knowledge, but do not stray outside of the existing world map.
ENTRY FORM: [size=18][b][color=#99684E]Let me tell you a tale, a tale from the Hearth...[/color][/b][/size]
[b]Username[/b]:
[b]Storytelling Entry[/b]:
[size=14][b][color=#99684E]Optional Information:[/color][/b][/size]
[b]Sentinel's Name[/b]:
[b]Weaver's Name[/b]:
[b]Weaver's Gender[/b]:
[b]Any additional notes?[/b] If you have anything that you want to add that cannot fit into the official entry, such as your inspirations or future plans, write it here!
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Posted: Tue Jan 28, 2014 4:39 pm
Let me tell you a tale, a tale from the Hearth...
Username: Kamileunaire
Storytelling Entry:
The Legend of Rivencrag
A long, long time ago, when the seething hatred of the Splinter was still freshly extinguished and the Hearth still billowed thick black blankets of smoke over the land, there dwelt a pack of Sentinels along the mangrove shores of the Boiling Lake. Newly born into the recovering Earth, they were still young, naive about the world and eager to exploit the plentiful food resources that surrounded them. It seemed as if everything was theirs for the taking, and they acted accordingly. Though the world was still gripped by chaos then, as everyone scrambled to find their place, the pack on the mangroves was secure in its position, if only for one simple reason. They were lead by a thunderously large male who went by the name of Rivencrag, and though he ruled by virtue of his great strength, he was well liked by his pack for his fair claw, and the protection he provided against the roving bands of rogue Sentinels, who only ever seemed to want to deplete their food caches or raid their nesting sites.
As the seasons wore on, Rivencrag became well known across the land, and word of his abilities spread near and far. He could lift large boulders with ease, and tear through the thickly tangled roots of the mangrove as if they were dried grass. Even his name implied that he could strike the rocky outcrops of the cliffs into pieces with a single slap of his massive tail, if he wished to do so. As his reputation grew, no one dared to venture through his territory with ill intent, for fear of incurring his wrath. While his notoriety provided him and his pack further protection, it also garnered new followers and admirers. One spring, a neighboring pack appeared on the borders of the mangrove shore seeking an alliance. It would have been a mundane event but for a single detail; a young female was part of the group, and her loveliness immediately caught Rivencrag's eye.
Her scales glistened silver in the sunlight, and she was unlike any female Rivencrag had ever met. She went by the name Isiliss, and had traveled up from the Windroves with her family seeking better hunting grounds. As they struck up a friendship, Isiliss's brother, Sligith, noticed immediately. He was similar to his sister in appearance, with his own glistening scales and pale eyes, but very different in personality. Where she was determined and possessed an honorable spirit, he was slimy and conniving, the owner of a heart darkened by greed. Though Sligith did not make his intentions outwardly known, he saw Rivencrag's territory and coveted it. He looked upon his pack, and lusted for power. He knew an opportunity when he saw one, and as Rivencrag befriended his sister, he had already begun to hatch an ingenious plan to get rid of him.
Sligith approached Rivencrag early one morning, as he kept watch near the edge of their territory. "You must know, Rivencrag, that it is custom among those in my family to present their prospective mates with a gift. So too must you, if you truly wish to win the favor of my sister." The usurper's eyes glistened hungrily as Rivencrag ate up the lie, instantly worried over what to do, because what prize could he possibly offer that she could not already find for herself? Of course, Sligith had the answer for everything.
"You must go and find a shimmering black stone, those born of the heat of the earth. It is a most treasured prize amongst my pack, but its whereabouts are perilous. Be wary in your search, Rivencrag."
And so, with his cruel cunning, Sligith sewed the seed of Rivencrag's demise, for no more than a day passed before he set out on his journey for the Hearth, eager to gain the approval of his new love. He would surprise her with it and be all the better, and though the Hearth was a fearful place, he was confident in his abilities.
Rivencrag's great strength proved to be his greatest ally in his quest. It seemed as if nothing could stand in his way, as he scrabbled nimbly around the streams of lava, and struck the rocks from his path with claw and tail, as if they were little more than pebbles. Each step carried him closer to the great billowing maw of the Hearth, and at the moment his victory seemed imminent, an inexplicable tragedy occurred. As Rivencrag found his prize, a great shining stone, blacker than the night sky, the hatred of the Splinter lashed out at him for his insolence.
Any lesser Sentinel would have died on the spot, but so immense was Rivencrag's resolve that not even the molten rage of the Splinter could end him completely. Death may have been a welcome alternative, but the furious energy twisted him instead, into a mindless and hulking beast, infusing him with its own fiery malice. When the transformation was complete, his flesh was as hardened and warped as the rock around him, his breath hotter than magma, and his dead eyes shimmered like dying coals. The sounds from the mountainside were unforgettable, and the tale of Rivencrag may well have ended that very night, had Isiliss not recognized his anguished cries and given chase.
Alas, she was too late. She arrived with Sligith following after, and no matter how much he pleaded with her, she would not be swayed. Driven by her determination, she swiftly reached the Hearth and attempted to appeal to her friend, her would-be mate, only to be violently struck down and devoured by the horrid monster that was Rivencrag. Sligith used this distraction to flee, stumbling down the mountain with the beast hot on his tail, hungry for the flesh of the one who had betrayed him, and blind to the atrocity he had just committed. Sligith narrowly escaped, but not with his mind intact. When all was said and done, no one was quite sure what to make of his maddened babbling, and he was quickly driven away for his traitorous acts. Many of Rivencrag's pack mates went out searching for their beloved leader, only to never be heard from again.
It is said that when there is rumbling in the Hearth, that it is Rivencrag warding off trespassers, and that the tremors on the mountain are caused by the slapping of his great tail. Warriors who venture into the heat must take care, for the shimmering eyes of the beast in the rocks will always be watching and waiting, ever eager to take revenge on those foolish enough to travel to the Hearth.
Optional Information:
Sentinel's Name: Embermore
Weaver's Name: Smolder
Weaver's Gender: Male
Any additional notes? I had a lot of fun writing this :9 I hope it's not too out there!
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