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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Edited by Sgt Zarathustra: 8/24/2013 6:50:58 PMAlso too late for the contest, but I thought I'd share my two cents. Word count: 283 [b]Ancient Secrets[/b] Sehadrin sifted through the fine red sand. His heart quivered with excitement, but his hands stayed steady. He had searched for this place for countless years. He could wait a little longer. How the device had come to be buried alongside the decaying husk of an ancient maglev node, Sehadrin did not know. Perhaps it had been hidden here after The Fall by one of the city's many inhuman tenants. Perhaps the Traveler had placed it here when it first passed through the solar system centuries ago. Perhaps, as Sehadrin hoped, it had been here when the city was still a thriving hive of humanity, as casually available to his ancestors as the ammunition stores of the City were to the Guardians of his own time. Rumil lowered his rangefinders' binoculars and scowled. “If your artifact is here, Doctor, find it quickly.” The Titan eyed the decaying buildings around them. Those canyon walls sheltered them from the prying eyes of Cabal flyers, but they also hide scores of hostiles. The courtyard was littered with smoking husks of Cabal armor, but Sehadrin and his companions were not invincible. Two of their party had already joined the city's countless ranks of dead. “It's worth the risk,” Sehadrin said, plunging his hands into the cold sand. “The Archive is here. By finding it, humanity's birthright will become ours again.” His hand hit something warm and hard, something neither of the city nor of the Cabal. The sand under him shuddered as the device responded to his touch. Crooked lines radiated out through the sand, and Rumil gripped his rifle cautiously. “Now,” Sehadrin said, “we learn the answers. All of them.”