EXCLUSIVE: WIN Darkness Rising!

[Bahumat]

And the winner is..... Bahumat!

The truth always prevails

 

[Howley]

svartmetall...good read imo,
bahumat...hmm, captured daoc in every aspect...

 

[Keata]

Im not a great poet but here goes:

Keata - Competition entry

The sound of hundreds of Vikings roaring hit the gates of Hurbury. With Ardmeth leading they had come to reclaim what was theirs, the Horn of Valhalla.

You could see it in their eyes. This was the moment they had all been waiting for. The forces of King Arthur had left their homeland in flames, killing women and children to get their filthy hands on the one thing they knew Midgard loved so dearly, and this was their chance to get their revenge.

The brave warriors had brought a battle ram with them to hammer down the mighty gate of the fortress. Arthur was a smart man though; he had placed pots of boiling oil as defense against these rams above the gates, which were poured over the rams burning the skin of the intruders. Many Vikings was lost but they didn’t seem to care. Every Viking know that in the afterlife Odin will take good care of them in Valhalla, so as the oil was hitting the rams, a new group of warriors were ready to step up to continue the ramming of the gate.

The archers defending the keep started to disappear realizing that they had failed to push the Viking forces back. With a thundering sound the gate were shattered and the Vikings started to rush in slaying the few archers that didn’t make it to safety. At this point the orders from their leader Ardmeth were ignored. The Vikings had tasted blood and were filled with rage. The gifted shaman’s were chanting curses on their foes and the mighty skalds singing tunes of victory as they all charged the stairs inside the keep.

Upstairs they met a wall of King Arthur’s forces protecting the horn, but their eyes were scared with fear from the shaman’s chants and the fact that two trolls were charging in front of the rest of the Vikings. One of the trolls swung his great hammer towards the front row instantly killing 4 of Arthur’s Highlanders painting blood on the others faces. In a matter of seconds the Vikings had slain most of the defending forces.

In the middle of the room the Horn of Valhalla were placed on a pedestal. It was so beautiful. It filled the room with warmth making the Vikings come to their senses once again. Ardmeth walked up to the relic of power and took a firm grip on the horn, “Lets get this home” he said while he was walking back downstairs. They had a boat waiting at the river close to the fortress with the best sailors waiting to bring the horn back to its home, the stronghold of Mjolner.

The fortress of Hurbury was destroyed as a reminder to King Arthur to think twice before attacking Midgard again although it would happen sooner or later.

 

[old.Whoodoo]

Can I just submit my peice as is?

 

[Keata]

Can I just submit my peice as is?

You cant post at all mate With that preview Tilda posted by you tbh stop DAoC and write a book instead :worthy:

No really it was a great story, i wanted write about the weekends relic raid so its kinda close to your story.

 

[old.Whoodoo]

You cant post at all mate With that preview Tilda posted by you tbh stop DAoC and write a book instead :worthy:

No really it was a great story, i wanted write about the weekends relic raid so its kinda close to your story.

<ine was about a raid about 6 months ago, but for every story theres someone elses perspective, the same raids through different eyes, it doesnt have to be the enemy. Yours follows on nicely from mine, but seen though your eyes, dont give up on what you wrote, just express it that little deeper mate

 

[Svartmetall]

BTW what I posted on page 2 was my entry, but the edit time limit on the post had expired by the time I noticed the fine print of Tilda's post...got too carried away with the story itself...

 

[old.Whoodoo]

BTW what I posted on page 2 was my entry, but the edit time limit on the post had expired by the time I noticed the fine print of Tilda's post...got too carried away with the story itself...

Good stuff m8:

"War and Pieces" by Svartmetal

Have a rep (dammit, theres only so much rep I can give you, gotta find someone else to rep before I can bump u more!!)

 

[Nomans Land]

Nomans Entry

Nomans Competition Entry

Call to Arms

As the sun rose in the east drums could be heard playing not far off. Towns and villages were woken all across the land. Vikings, Rogues, Seers and Mystics all grabbed their weapons and raced to Jordheim to see what all the fuss was about.

The town crier gathered everyone around and explained that since we Midgardians had stolen all the Albion relics they sought revenge. An unknown Shadowblade had infiltrated Camelot and heard of their plans. A full scale assault was to be launched later that day on Bledmeer and Nottmoor Faste where the Albions would rally their forces and attack two more keeps simultaneously. We were told we had to act fast, new weapons were to be made, armours were to be bought and spellcrafted and siege equipment to be stocked up. The crier finished his speech, paused for a moment and then yelled at the top of his voice "Soon Eirik Alfevson will arrive! Let his arrival be a pleasant one. TO ARMS!". Everyone scuttled away as quick as possible to prepare themselves. Except a few warriors who were not moved by the speech and sat drinking ale. I approached them and asked "Does the arrival of our new King not inspire you brave warriors?", the response being a bottled narrowly missing my head, but I would not be put off. I sat down and started to have a few drinks and chat to them.

After a few hours, and being slightly drunk, we decided to form a guild. Luckily there were eight of us and we also made a pretty good group set-up. Our objective was not to defend our keeps, but to slay the incoming Albion forces to cut them off. Of course we knew most would use boats, but the real threat was on land.

We headed back to one of the fellows houses and used our skills to fashion new armour for ourselves, to be as well equipped as possible. We looked over some maps and came up with a plan and strategy on how to kill these fierce Albion groups.

Then the time came, it was an hour before the attacks were due so we took everything we needed and ported into the Upplands. We all ready noticed that Nottmoor Watchtower was on fire, but that did not concern us. We ported to Bledmeer and the Shaman and Healers cast magical spells to help us in our fights. Our leader was appointed after much discussion and then we moved out into the treacherous lands of Agramon.

We roamed the lands for at least 30 minutes, not finding a single enemy. As the Watchtower fell into the hands of Albions we thought to ourselves "could the Albions have all used boats?". We quickly enquired about the numbers attacking Nottmoor, some people saying there were over 60 enemies and that...

"INCOMING LEFT SIDE" one of our members cried, we all broke off with our Healers taking cover in the shadows of some trees. The Savage and other so called talks heading straight into the enemy Albion group, as if we had no fear of death. "MY TARGET, KILL THE THEURGIST!" I scream, as i am sure he did also when he saw 4 Troll tanks steaming towards him and then, bam, his corpse lay dead on the ground. Caster after caster we killed but each time they got revived, as if the Clerics had endless power! I changed my target with the other tanks in tow and we demolished their clerics crippling the whole group, then picking the rest off one by one until all lay on the ground dead.

One of these brave Albions had dropped a banner which we picked up to proudly hang in our guild house of our first battle as a team. This had only been one fight we had won, but there were many more to come.

 

[Nomans Land]

^^ The reason I asked about grammar and punctuation is coz mine is crap... as you might notice sinec I dont know when to put ,s and pharagraphs in properly

But thats my entry. I thought it was getting a little long towards the end so I cut a chunk of it out.

 

[Garok]

Not 100% proof read ^^
Garok's Competition entry

In the years since the death of King Arthur at the battle of Camlan and the breakdown of the true between Ogre's of Krondon and the men of Albion, against the common enemy of Morgan le Fay's Draconian hordes. The increasing hostility of the Ogre's had laid the northern reaches of Avalon the Isle of Apples in a circle of constant strife. Though many attempts had been made to reissue a truce with the ogre's, little headway had been made. The decision had been made, sever the head and the body would crumble. Orylle queen of Krondon the Ogre Citadel and her trusted advisor Orshom Brong were to be removed, in the hope the ogre forces would splinter and a new more "accommodating" steward could be installed.

The old Saracen mercenary let the blade of his Azure Dualists Rapier dance along the cobbled floor behind him, sparks mixing with the magical aura attached to the blade. So this was it, he thought around the corner was the throne room of Orylle and her trusted advisor Orshom Brong. The ogre's were brutish creatures nearly twice the size of a Highlander capable of breaking even a stone skinned troll in half. He was not daunted though, a veteran of many a campaign, from the hellish halls of Darkness Falls to the undead castle of Cear Sidi. This was just another task for the crown of his new homeland. The greater the risk, the greater the reward as he always said.

Their eye's met across the expanse of Orylle's throne room. A puzzed look appeared on the face of the Queen, what were these eight men doing so far into her fortress, were where her guards. The puzzled look soon changed to a smile as she saw the look of awe on the faces of these Albion adventurers. For Orylle would dwarf even a forest Giant. On her back she carried a sword almost as tall as she was, fashioned in the style of a Claymore favoured weapon of the Highlander Lord's, though few in practise existed.

"Tell Me," the Orshom asked wryly "What kind of fool bring's only eight little men to face the might of the ogre's of Krondon "

"One who wishes to kill her" replied the mercenary with a visible lump in his throat.

Orshom roared with laughter

"Imbecile" taunted Orylle "Puny little creatures would need an army to attempted to defeat me"

The expression on the mercenaries faced changed from one of awe to a smirk.

"Well isn't that fortunate"

The thundering of metal footsteps carried down the hallways as the army of Albion was carried down the corridors of Krondon by accompanied by the songs of the minstrels of the realm. In they pored weapons brandished the metal of their weapons glinting in the light of the torches of the throne room.

The plan they had devised was carried out to perfection. The eight men who had first entered the throne room cut the Orylle off from Orshom. The rest of the army of around sixty Albion's swarmed Orshom. A look of rage and disbelief overcame the two ogres. Orshom feverishly casting spells hurling gigantic fireballs into the ranks of the advancing army felling men and women with ease. But the numbers were too much for him blades maces and spells pounding against him he sensed his end was near. In a flick of his wrists he cast one last spell and vanished.

Over the other side of the room the Mercenaries group were nearly finished. The great sweeping strikes of Orylle's giant sword had felled half of the group. She homed in on the lone Saracen with a look of vengeance, her sword whistling towards him. Barely able to evade the incoming attack his foot slipped on the blood soaked stone, sending him crashing to the floor.

"Now!" he screamed at the group at the back of the room.

The Theurgist's began their summoning sending elemental after elemental thundering towards the ogre queen. The first wave made her stumble as she vainly tried to cut them down. They kept on coming wave after wave eventually sending her crashing to the ground under their numbers. The rest over the army having recovered from the disappearance of Orshom sensed that victory was near charged. Stabbing and trusting and swinging their weapons with whatever strength they could still muster. Crimson blood swept across the floor and it was finally over. The Saracen propping him self up on this elbows let out a sigh of relief. Resurrect the fallen he instructed and lets see what this queen has of worth.

 

[Sollac]

in the middle of one...whens it end? will post it tomorrow night .....

 

[DLgamer-oot]

You got time still don't worry, tomorrow will be fine

 

[old.Whoodoo]

No one answered, can I submit my one as Tilda posted

If not Ill try and knock up something new.

 

[Tilda]

No one answered, can I submit my one as Tilda posted

If not Ill try and knock up something new.

I don't see why not, but if you have time, a new one would be better.

 

[Killswitch]

I was never much of a writer...but here goes;

Username - Killswitch

Thick rolling fog lay like a shroud across the plain of Emain Macha, its presence a cold, lingering caress such as one might recieve from the spectral hands of a long-dead lover. Despite the eerie chill that played along his arms and legs, the hulking Highlander felt strangely comforted, knowing the dull, grey wall of fog protected his small band of raiders from prying eyes. So dense was it that the sound of his footsteps and those of his companions were quietened, seeming to come from a distance away. His feet were invisible to his eyes in any case, so who knows what strange plains they trod as he waded blindly through the grey world which ended less than an arms-length from his face. No birds sang and the animals, usually abundant in this green land, were strangely absent as if Mother Nature herself were being slowly suffocated by the mists.

Surefooted the young Saracen who led them was, and they moved swiftly across the plains to the steady rythm of his gilded drum. No ordinary drum was this, but one fit for the Chief Minstrel of the Court of King Constantine and his hands moved deftly across it, the sheer power flooding from it girding our loins and quickening our feet. With a nevousness born of a thousand ambushes by the demon hordes of the Lesser Realms, his friends looked from left to right, straining to see amidst the uniform grey a single hint of an approaching enemy. Such were the efforts of the men and women, they almost seemed to sweat not from the speed and tenacity of the chase, but from the combined effort of straining ears and eyes to gain an advantage over their adversaries.

Second in line, standing close behind the leader stood a women tall and elegant, yet strangely stern. Her face would make rock seem soft and iron as malleable as bakers dough. Born of a noble Avalonian house, she carried herself with the rigidity of a blade and her mere presence would cow lesser men and women to impotent speechlessness. A mighty Sorceress was she, and none more skilled were there in all the lands of Albion. The dazzling speed with which she unleashed her wyrd potencies on friends and enemies alike made her a useful ally and a terrible foe. In her lay the power to still the hands, feet and hearts of any who opposed her and threatened the realm which she had sworn her life to protect.

Looking around, the Highlander came face to face with a nightmare and, even blessed with many years of familiarity, recoiled from that terrible sight and, feeling ashamed at how easily he was unmanned, returned his attention to the run. Oblivious to all this, monster lumbered on, leaving elephantine footprints six inches deep in the soil. 30 hundredweight of clay, roughly formed into a huge, craggy effigy, the simulcrum was a fearsome sight. Towering over any man with fists that could demolish a city wall and burning eyes that could quell the bravest warrior. The 'keeper' of this behemoth, an old and wizened Briton with skin like a knarled root, assured me that this was an Amber simulcrum and that, unchecked, its devasting melee could wound, paralyse or even kill an opponent. In other fights, other times, he had demonstrated his art by created simulcrums of Ruby that could summon fire from the skies to attack distant enemies and a huge Emerald simulcrum which surrounded foes with choking vapours and infect them with a terrible weakening disease from which few recovered.

From nowhere, a sound like a thunderclap amplified tenfold rang out. Before the Highlander had a chance to think what could have caused this, a vice-like grip took hold of him and his companions, locking their arms and legs so they stood like statues. From the corner of his mouth, he began to mutter an ancient spell, one which he had learned only through great sacrifice and many battles. Instantly, the strange forces holding his limbs began to lessen and then it was gone. He was free! Running swiftly, he moved slightly away from the fight. From the corner of his eye, he could see his friends begin to move again and engage the enemy. The fierce mercenaries, their chain glinted and reflected the strange lights and shapes that briefly hovered in the air as mighty spells were cast. Soon, their swords found their targets and, as they sliced cloth and bit deep into flesh, the enemy support scattered, howling in pain. Eerie blue glows sprang up around 2 swarthy characters lurking behind the fight. Dwarven Healers most likely, wielding their own magic to stem the bleeding and knit the flesh of their allies. The Highlander was muttering feverishly as his hands reached into the air and...twisted. A stream of power exploded into being, flooding into his allies and replenishing them. This had taken time though and his friends were in dire need. Looking up, he saw a huge Troll crash a heavy, two-handed axe into the shoulder of one of the mercenaries. Then, with a rousing battle roar, he directed his friends, another huge Troll and a strange, feral Valkyn with metal barbs attached to his hands, to charge towards our cloth-wearing support. We seemed doomed.

The Highlander raised his hands and cried out. As he did so, the mercenary who had been knocked to the floor by the blow, jumped to his feet. Soon, his band of paid killers were again dancing amongst the enemy casters. One fell, then another, their spells flying in all directions as they desperately sought an advantage in this fight. To the rear, I could see a dwarf running desperately from the simulcrum, hands raised to fend off the clubbing blows. Blood flowed from dozen wounds and mixed with the rich earth, torn now by desperate footstep and slick as ice. A searing pain gripped the Highlander and he felt his life being torn from him. The strength went from his limbs. Again the pain came, and again. Looking up, a small blue creature, a Kobold, roared defiance and called on his Gods to support him. Even as swords and spells fell on him, his spells came faster, a strangely serene look on his face. The last thing the Highlander saw was the green grass of Emain as he began to fall...

 

[old.Whoodoo]

Ok, if you insist, its a bit long, and a lot more RP, but hey

Whoodoo - competition entry

Turning facelong into the southerly winds, I trod softly into the fresh snow, silently moving towards the sound of spell casting, emanating from the woods just out of my line of sight. My ears honed in on the familiar sounds of Hibernian music, brought forth to me by the prevailing icy breeze.
For years I had trained in the arts of stealth and camouflage, a trade passed on through the generations, from father to son and daughter. In the deep frontiers wits alone wouldn’t keep you from harm, only the years of dedication and heeding the voices of the elders. But in the frozen forests of Jamtland.Mountains, even your breath could give you away, leaving behind you a vapour trail visible to man and beast.
Under tender foot, I came within sight of the enemy, and observed them slaughtering the Windswept Wraiths that inhabited the area, then picking their torso’s clean of the precious gems they wore. Three they numbered, one tall, broad and forgive me, but hellishly ugly, even compared to Trolls, this one brought new meaning to hideous. The magician among them was small, his skin tainted blue and his eyes….glistening against the snow sent shivers down my spine.
The last I didn’t spot at first, she…..blended in. What creature this was I didn’t know, but her skin was like the bark of the mighty Cedar, while sitting propped against a tree, even my keenest eye couldn’t distinguish her. But she seemed out of place from the other two, who laughed as they stripped another carcass.
The large one was easily the seer of the clan, healing the smaller one during their battles, and from time to time casting a slow and loud spell on him that seemed to restore his mana. He would be my primary target.
Gently I reached into my quiver, and took out the sharpest of arrows, this one tipped in such to penetrate any magical barrier that may lay unseen around them. Knotching it, I stared hard at him, visualising his heart, deep inside his armour. Gracefully I drew back the string, taking in a long and deep breath, the winds still behind me to help guide the arrow, I released. It cut silently through the air, almost in slow motion as it gained momentum towards its unsuspecting target.
About 4 strides away, it struck the barrier, as I thought it might, piercing its protection and instantly bursting their defence. As it did the small one turned to face it, startled, as he did, the arrow struck home, breaching his chest deeply. For a second, his eyes opened wide, his palms turned upwards and a terrifying shriek echoed around the forest, in his hands an energy grew, brighter and brighter, then vanished along with his lifeforce as his body fell to the ground.
Quickly I knotched another arrow, the air had changed so slightly, pushing on the left side of my face, I drew the string close to my cheek and licked the fletching, moistening it to provide curve to its aim, then relinquished the bows power. Again, taking flight the arrow veered to my left, then was guided by the wind towards its prey. It struck the creatures armour, glancing only a flesh wound upon his shoulder, making him drop the huge shield he carried. Again I fired, as he ran towards me, screaming, his weapon drawn high above him, and with a look of malice on his face.
This time, my arrow struck home, penetrating deeply into his exposed neck, piercing his throat and silencing him instantly. He paused for a few seconds before dropping to his knees, his forearm still outstretched towards me, his last strain of life ebbing away, he still wanted to taste my blood. Gradually, he dropped to his knees, his arm lost its strength and he descended to the floor, burying his body in the snow.
By this time I had one arrow ready to fly, I took aim and the strange wood being, her eyes full of youth, she stood quaking, crying and held her hands to her chest as if praying. A cold shiver came over me as I let loose the dart, her eyes grew wider and wider as it came toward her, then she closed them, and a single tear trickled down her cheek. As it struck, she held her head up, waiting for the pain.
But the pain didn’t come, instead she heard a thump behind her, and felt the powder of the snow hit the back of her legs. For a few seconds she stood, motionless. Slowly she opened her eyes. I stood before, bow across my shoulder, nodded gently and smiled before vanishing into the white background.
Behind her, the Wraith that was about to take my prey, lay dead, she turned to saw where my last arrow had impaled upon the evil beast. Her fate now, alone and a long way from home, was far worse than any arrow. She wept quietly, darkness was drawing in, and she knew alone, she wouldn’t last long.

Enjoy

 

[Nomans Land]

Now im never gonna win qq

 

[old.Whoodoo]

Now im never gonna win qq

Have faith brother.

 

[Killswitch]

Now im never gonna win qq

An infinite number of monkey with an infinite number of typewriters have got NOTHING on bored swedish teenagers on Freddyshouse

That said, the only way I reckon I'll win is if there are only 5 entries!!

 

[Mr Trade]

Ok, if you insist, its a bit long, and a lot more RP, but hey

Whoodoo - competition entry



Enjoy

Its nice whoodoo but Bahumat's entry may just be too strong!

 

[old.Whoodoo]

Its nice whoodoo but Bahumat's entry may just be too strong!

Its not realistiic, in RL, there would still be a zerg and an FH whine thread involved somewhere.

 

[Pera]

Ok, if you insist, its a bit long, and a lot more RP, but hey

Whoodoo - competition entry



Enjoy

Although its an excellent story and very captive, it is far far far away from truth

 

[GReaper]

GReaper's competition entry

It all started in Castle Sauvage, back in the days when I was far less experienced. We were brought together and told we had an important mission to take part in, Thidranki Faste had been taken over by an unknown evil force. Our guildmaster gave each of us a special necklace, "Keep this safe" we were told, "You may only enter Thidranki with this special necklace". The task we faced was so dangerous that the Master Elementalists would not teleport anyone other than the chosen few. We sat down and waited for the Elementalists to arrive, looking around me I recognised the familiar faces from another guild - the Lords of England. However it appeared that another couple of guilds were also here to help us on this mission, they came from the unfamiliar realm of Excalibur. The finest warriors in the land were all here, ready to help Albion.

The Master Elementalists came walking down the stairs, followed by Master Visur himself. After forming a circle, the Elementalists started casting spells as part of the porting ceremony, the deep voice of Visur uttered the magical words. Within the blink of an eye we were ported to foreign lands, inside an Albion keep in the lands of Thidranki. A few moments later, we were informed of our important mission. The demons had invaded Thidranki Faste, Albion had lost control of the keep. We always knew that Midgard and Hibernia fought for Thidranki Faste, however the thought of a new enemy started to worry us. Our mission was not to destroy the demons, but to capture them and bring them back to the Albion keep.

We all rushed outside of the keep and marched towards Thidranki Faste. The lands on which many battles had been fought seemed so odd, the enemies which we would normally face were nowhere to be seen, the threat of the demons had scared them away. Eventually we arrived at the bridge before the keep, the Armsman infront of me stopped all of a sudden, something was wrong. The forces of Midgard were already at the front of the keep, trying to slay the demons inside. Our mission was at stake, we had to stop them at once!

A few moments later, our leaders yelled at us to go forward. CHARGE! The army of Dwarves were all caught by surprise, the brave Armsmen and Paladins rushed forward to attack the enemy. They all had no chance, fighting both the demons and the Albion tanks was impossible for the forces of Midgard, eventually they were all slaughtered - we showed the vile enemy no mercy. The demon threat still had to be dealt with, our Sorcerers moved slowly inside the keep and charmed the evil demons into following us. Under the control of the Sorcerers we could bring the demons back towards the Albion keep.

Our guildmaster brought our group together, it was our guild who was going to take the demons back whilst the other Albions stayed at the keep to stop it falling into enemy hands. We slowly moved outside and across the bridge, moving slowly to keep our control on the demons. Eventually the Albion keep was in sight, the familiar sight of the Master Wizards were here to defend us. Our Sorcerers rushed inside the keep, our mission was completed and Thidranki Faste was once again under Albion control.

The threat of the demons was now gone, it was safe for Albions to return to Thidranki.

Just in time before the deadline!

 

[Overdriven]

And it's 9pm exactly

9pm GMT
10pm CET

 

[old.Whoodoo]

Although its an excellent story and very captive, it is far far far away from truth

Damn right, I ganked that greys arse!

 

[Nomans Land]

When do we know who won?

 

[Yshynsin]

Judging from the screams and the yells of agonising pain i could hear from north Bledmeer, it was clear that albion wanted something, a treasured relic for all the lands, The Heart of Agromon.

Three weeks to this date, a battle against the Demon Lord Agromon was fought, Three Realms, One meaning, Albion and hibernia fought there way through to fight the abomination, fighting through the mile gates, Yes, i was there, in the frontlines, fighting for my realm, with every last breath and swing. The demons had come back for vengeance rising with the island, scum of the land, the creatures that resided in the darkness falls were always feared upon, and their leaders, the grand Legionaire and the Behomoth caused nightmares that would be in the minds of the front line fighters for the rest of their lives causing trauma to all that had fought.

Albion and Hibernia broke the blockades of the miles gates slaying the creatures as they appeared trying to advance further to fight the Lord Agromon to claim the relic but were not sucessfull, there was the last realm, no one knew what they were up to, it was up to the shadows of Albion and hibernia to find out.

As one of the Albion scouts, my role was to see what the Midgardians were doing, as soon as Albion slayed the creatures at the mile gate, I crept through the milegate, walking forwards, i could smell the heavy stench of burning and brimstone and could hear the cries of pain that the Lord was causing to the fighters. I got closer. I climbed a tree, from this tree i looked forth and saw a Demon, a Demon like no other, It was, collosal. Looking into it's eyes i knew it was slowly fading, it's roars shook the ground and the veins in it's chest were now pulsing and throbbing, it's legs were shaking.

ARGHHHHHHHHH the demon fell on it's knees, a pulsating white light appeared slowly dissolving the monster into ash, but a glowing blue light showed that the Midgards had claimed the heart and would know use it as a relic to aid them in battle, the demon fell that night, i was there, i saw it all.

'DUCk! Ninjitsu quickly!'

"Eh?"

BOOM

'Whoa that was close, watch where you fire that trebuchet next time!'

 

[Killswitch]

When do we know who won?

About 10s after Whoodoo hit the 'Submit' button...

 

[Nomans Land]

About 10s after Whoodoo hit the 'Submit' button...

He cant win all 5