writing contest draft

[Muridin]

can i get some opinions of you guys for a short(ish) story im writing for a writing comp at my school?

here it is...

**disclaimer** wall of text immenint....RUN AWaY!!!! lol 

When Worlds Collide.

Prologue
Two worlds. Floating through space, in a peaceful bliss, unaware of their counterparts. One, the magical world of Azeroth, sistering Draenor. The other Naja-Gall.

Azeroth held a dark past, shrouded in war and hate, bound by the Twisting Nether to its magical existence. Thousands of wars, wars have been fought over racial conflicts, extermination and domination. After 50 000 thousand years of conflict, the world seemed to settle to a dull stupor. Every living being in the living and dead world seemed to just coincide peacefully. The Alliance and The Horde, giving up their hatred, forming into one huge bi-continental coalition to work for the greater good for the living world and preserving history for future generations.

Naja-gall, is suffering constant conflict. Humanity spreading their disease all over the world, for thousands of years upon the earth, slowly turning the once beautiful, lush, emerald forests into cities of metallic grey, twisting towards the darkened light. Society reached a peak in the Naja-Gallian year 1268, when the fighting stopped. The hate for others of different skin colours ceased, and a utopian society built itself it upon the ashes of the burning ruins of the old humanity.

Azeroth and Naja-Gall. Two different worlds. Different life cycles, bound to the ever shifting universe by the Twisting Nether. A sudden dimensional pull, and the worlds, trillions of miles away from each other join as one.







Chapter 1.
The beginning.

The early morning fog rolled in from the Great Sea as the sun was edging over the horizon, shining a pale light casting colossal shadows. The sentry, was pacing the inner-city walls as the citizens started to arouse to the new day.
The inn was full of weary travellers, on their way to the elven lands over the sea.  The keep, full of recruits for the Alliance, was awake long before the sun had risen, and had started their daily training in the marshlands.

As the furnaces were lit in the blacksmith for a new day of business, and as the wet, muddy and fatigued recruits tramp back to the keep to wash for the day ahead, storm clouds were edging nearer from the horizon.

~

Waking to a bird singing out his window, Mountaineer Valsorgi rose slowly from his bed, a hazy dream slipping from his memory. As Valsorgi washes his face, his beard soaking up most of the crystal clear water from the stone basin by his window, he looks out onto the nearby river flowing down from the mountains, splashing and spraying from rocky cliff to sharp ledge.

After Valsorgi finished dressing, he donned his cloak and hood, both of the emerald-green and gold colours of the Mountaineers. He left his room, and locked it. Descending down the stairs, he could hear the inn staff fussing over the mornings’ breakfast. Honey sweetened crocolisk steak and poached raptors’ egg. The smell made him hungry, but he wasn’t allowed to sit down and eat.

Walking out from the staircase, the silhouette of Valsorgi from the sunlight dappling in from a window above alerted the innkeeper to this new riser, and motioned for him to come over to him at the kitchen door. Valsorgi noticed this, and walked over looking puzzled.

“Listen ‘ere lad,” the innkeeper starts to say,” there’s a great brekkie this mornin’. Sit down and have a bite!”
“Unfortunately, I’m on important business. Please give me what I’ve ordered”, Valsorgi answers.
The innkeeper, while looking hurt at the blatant refusal of his meal, hands over the silk bag, and proceeded to shoo him away like a nasty beggar in Stormwind from his Inn.

Ahh, he will get over it, Valsorgi thought.
Walking out of the inn, the sun had settled over the marshes, and the skies predicted a warm, humid day. A bad day for hiking. Valsorgi thought of unhooking his ram, and riding him up, but with great reluctance left it there, as the track twists all of a sudden at one point, and the large ram might loose its footing and fall, killing them both.

As Valsorgi started along the high mountain path, storm clouds were gliding down from the plains of old Lordaeron. As quickly as the banks of Stormwind can count their gold, the storm had settled down over the marshes, wrecking small boats docked at the harbour nearby. The mountain path was a torrential river, making the climb up even harder. Around high noon, when the storm still had some gusto level to that of a woman in love, the then drenched dwarf sought refuge in a small crevice. It was damp, and cold, but protected from the winds and rain. As he lit a small fire to dry himself, the denizens of Menethil Harbour were ducking for cover. As rain pelted against century old windows, another storm, was yet brewing.

As Menethil Harbour was being rocked of one storm, yet another was pounding the Naja-Gallian port city of High Sapdaruton. The city was under a hailstorm of epic proportions. Mortar and artillery shells knocked high buildings to rubble, and bullets perforated bodies.

~

Prophecy of old foretold a day of infamy, when all that is known to man, be brought down by its one creator.
High Saparuton was the last bastion to the old world. Parklands that reached the horizon, and the ocean as clear as the oncoming destruction of paradise.

As a seminary to the old world, the Rowanleg Aristocrats, rulers of the city, built its city on the teachings of a prophet. The Emerald Plain, was a world of peace and prosperity, were all men were created equal, and petty squabbles between neighbours be settled with not a fight, but with talk.
High Saparuton was the last pocket of resistance to the new world order. And much was yet to change.

As the very few embers of life were snuffed out, a new powerful force was awakening in the centre of a burning forest. Out of the ground  and ashes rose an arch of black marble, and within the arch, a rift was opening.
On Azeroth, thousands of miles away, the very same archway was starting to form out from the sea, in Baradin Bay.

Little known what was happening, but as Valsorgi looked out into the sea, and the monks in High Saparuton looked to the burning forest; much was changing, a mirage had appeared.

What appeared in the centre of the arches was a mirror to the two worlds, showing the other what both look like. A lighting bolt came from the sky over Baradin Bay and struck The Titan’s Omen, mutating it into a pile of burning wood and cloth. Blue flames swept like wild fire across the already burning plains in High Saparuton.  There was an explosion, the rift widened and the two worlds were sucked in.

[Emmalina]

Muri,

I'll happily look over this and give you my input, though I'd much prefer to send you my thoughts via PM or email, so look for it in one of those places.

Is there any particular part of the story, writing technique, or any other general item that you are concerned about or would like extra input on? Anything that seemed more difficult to write than the rest? I know I always get hung up on specific things in my writing, so I was just wondering if you have something similar with this story.

Cheers to writing!

[un4]

Looks good, but you might want to consider extending the passages before you switch to a different viewpoint.  What are the guidelines for the contest?

[Muridin]

the guidelines are basicly just write a story to my liking, to be within 1500 to 2000 words.

Un4, what do you mean by extend teh passages more before switching to a new view.
And emma, im just after an overall yay or nay to the storyline, character, scene and environment writing techniques.

so praise it, run its nose through dirt, nit pick it to death, i really would like honest, open feedback.

[un4]

Eww, word limits.  Those put a damper on things.  I was thinking maybe adding a little text to each of the paragraphs before you broke for the next viewpoint.

[Muridin]

Eww, word limits.  Those put a damper on things. 

yea i know...

i would really love to submit this to Chris Metzen, the bloke in charge of lore and all that jazz at blizzard... an ideal job of mine would be to write lore/stories bout WoW and its universes