originally posted in:The Black Garden
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Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come for us writers to take center stage for a time. The Black Garden as well as our friends over in Arts and Stuff are going to host a contest that is solely devoted to writers. The rules are simple.
For any who wish to enter, you are tasked with writing a short little anecdote that is to have a maximum of 300 words. The location for this piece of work is to be located in the picture provided above. The deadline for entering is this Sunday(14th) at midnight. For any who wish to enter, please submit your stories by placing them in the comments.
Judging will be done in two phases. The first phase will consist of a Panel of both groups reading over each story and deciding which seven are the best of the best. Once the first stage is complete, we shall hand it over to you, the audience, to decide who is ranked number one as lore master. The Winner of this contest shall receive a print of the Buried City signed by the Destiny writing team.
Good luck and Be Brave.
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[b]A Warm Welcome[/b] Preda leaped from his perch in The Buried City, sliding down a leaning steel beam, kicking up the dust on the ground. He crossed the ruined plaza, heedless to any form of stealth he’d ingrained into his movements seemingly since birth. His target lay on the steps to the ancient subway station, which the red planet had retaken in the centuries of abandonment. “What’s your name?” “Micheck.” Here, up close, Preda could tell Micheck was a Titan. He’d shot a human. “You’re going to be OK. Stay with me.” Preda tried to keep his voice smooth, calm, confident, but with the years he’d spent in the wild, speaking to no one, he was out of practice. “Hale! Hale!” Preda cried. Turning back to Micheck, “It’s all right. He’s a Warlock.” Hale approached, his footsteps like wind brushing the earth. “Traveler!” Hale exclaimed. “I heard the shot. What happened?” “In this storm, I thought he was a Fallen.” “If he was a Fallen, he wouldn’t have been alone.” No doubt grimacing under his faceplate, already channeling the Traveler, Hale knelt to evaluate the Titan. Then Hale stopped, sighed, and stood. “Don’t tell me I killed him,” Preda said. Hale extended his hand down to Micheck. “He’s fine,” Hale said. “You just grazed him. Let’s go, big guy.” Micheck accepted Hale’s hand and rose, suddenly towering. “Honestly,” Hale said, “I don’t know how Hunters like you made it on your own in the wild. Lucky you’re a terrible shot.” “It’s Mars!” Preda said. “Visibility is near zero, and the winds never stop. He didn’t have his IFF activated. It isn’t like you can just turn friendly fire off.” Hale clapped the dust off Micheck’s shoulder armor. “What are you doing here?” “The Vanguard sent me to find you. It’s about the Cabal.” “They sent you alone?” Preda said. Micheck glared at Preda, who increased his distance. “He’s a Titan,” Hale said. “You really just going to trust him?” Preda asked. “He’s a Titan.” Micheck finished ascending the ancient subway station’s steps and stopped at the entrance, turning, beckoning. Preda and Hale followed.