War3 Expertise/Buff/Nerf Essay Submission

[Face 1910]

I will be fulfilling at least one request for a buff, nerf, or expertise (assuming anybody actually puts in effort). In order to apply, you must abide by all rules outlined below.

• Write an essay (preferably in story form). There is no word requirement (quality > quantity), but I would suggest maybe around 3000 words
• Try to format it decently (I know we are on forums so that can be harder)
• Try to be as grammatically correct as possible (the better/funnier the essay is, the less emphasis I will place on grammar)
• Feel free to mention other players, within reason (don't be too offensive or harassing)
• Follow all relevant sG rules
• Don't be too simple or too obvious. e.g. A story about an orc fighting the oppression of Nazi Germany (sG). It's too obvious unless you put some big spin on it.
• Try to be original and not steal ideas from others
• Feel free to post the story here or to use another site (pastebin, etc).
• Low effort posts will be removed/infracted.

I will place a lot of emphasis on the first couple hundred words of the essay. If I am bored or I think I know exactly where it is going immediately, I will not waste my time finishing it.

 

Beyond the first couple hundred words, I will place all the emphasis on originality and humor.

 

I will probably stop this after New Years.

[zebra 178]

            Undead. Orc. Human. Elf. Long ago, the four races lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Horde attacked. Only GodDang, master of GO, could stop them, but when the world needed him most, he was nerfed. A hundred maps passed and my brother and I discovered the new GodDang, a War3 player named zebra. And although his bhop skills are great, he has a lot of leveling before he’s ready to save anyone. But I believe zebra can save the world.

 

            Years ago, when I was traveling across Dust2, I was just outside long A, walking towards double doors. As I peeked the doorway, I saw a hellish figure on the other side—a dark green, almost pitch black Orc. In his right hand emerged a grenade, and was flung towards my direction. In an instant, I blinked away; however, the explosion was too great. Three of my friends had perished in the blast, and I was on the brink of death. The filthy black Orc approached my lifeless body, determined to deliver the finishing blow. I closed my eyes, and accepted death. A few seconds passed and I’m still breathing. Still alive. I slowly open eyes, only to be blinded by a striped black-and-white enigmatic player. This person saved my life, and this is the story of how zebra came to be.

 

            I traveled with this majestic awe-inspiring man through many maps: cbble, westwood, office, etc… In return for saving my life, I could only dedicate my own to following zebra in his footsteps. I watched his growth expand with every passing round and every Orc slain. At first, it was subtle; he arbitrarily decided that jumping was the most efficient form of travel. As more time passed, his appearance changed. His body faded into the scenery, unable to be seen and even appeared to look more foe than friend. As his abilities became more proficient, and the number on his MAG-7 exponentially increased, I knew it was a matter of time before we traveled to Italy.

 

            Along the path to Italy, we gathered many comrades: seven Humans, eight Undeads, and nine Night Elves. We all shared a common goal—the annihilation of the Orcish Horde. The night before the invasion, the camp was filled with murmurs. Everyone was mumbling to themselves, and it was impossible to distinguish what they were saying. I was puzzled. If I had to guess, all of them were saying “buy tome” over and over.

 

            When we first reached Italy, the undead were sent in first as infantry. With their agility, they sped towards their spawn fearlessly. In the distance, you could hear the faint explosions and the cries of tens of orcs dying. As soon as the noise died down, we ventured into their den. Similar to how cats have nine lives, Orcs have two lives. We waited until they respawned, and the instant they did, the Night Elves entangled all of them. There must have been at least 28 Orcs entangled at this time. What happened next surprised all of us. Lightning scattered across the skies and struck every Night Elf. Not once, not twice, but twenty-eight times they were struck. None of them survived.

 

            Still entangled, zebra proceeded to ace the Orc team. His bhop skills were great, weaving between each target. They tried shooting at zebra, but bullet wounds healed as soon as they were made, and it was a sight to behold. From the rear, you can hear the cackling of a distinct green-dinosaur. This Orc was particularly filthy and black. In an instant, all the Orcs were resurrected. This was an unprecedented moment in history. Orcs with three lives! All guns were trained on zebra and bullets were shooting. Grenades were flying. Zebra couldn’t heal fast enough. It was as if someone had capped how fast he could regenerate. In a desperation attempt, zebra unleashed his final ability “AFFIRMATIVE”. This was the moment I was waiting for—watching all this time. Zebra’s white body with black stripes changed colors. It was a beautiful, dynamic process that, for a moment, even made the Orcs stop their assault. Then this body became static again. He was killed shortly after.

 

            And so I escaped. I witnessed the legacy of GodDang within zebra. Perhaps if his ultimate wasn’t a complete utter shitbag waste of space, he could finally ace the Orc menace, but that is a different story for a different day. For now, my name is Star, and I will forever remember my savior, zebra.

Edited December 17, 2015 by zebra

[SmugJack 96]

     Ogres have one rule: the strong survive and the weak die. One Ogre was considered the weakest of his tribe and he was nameless. The tribe was named Grommel and they had a rite of passage to earn their names. The ogre had tried twice without success. If he fails one last time, he would be killed because strength is everything. The rite of passage consists of two parts. First, the initiate must survive the wilderness for three days with nothing but his own strength. If he returns before the time has passed he would be slain or banished. The second part is the initiate must do battle with a Devilsaur (a Devilsaur is a monstrous beast that resembles a dinosaur). The initiate may only bring what he has collected from the wilderness. The unnamed ogre had retreated twice from the Devilsaur. The ogre had one chance to regain his honor and gain his name.

 

    The elder ogre had called a clan meeting on the summer solstice to perform the rite. The elder ogre spoke to the crowd "Who among you is willing to sponsor this whelp?" The unnamed ogre tried to put on a ferocious face to inspire anyone to take up the title of his sponsor but it was clear who it would be. One ogre stepped forward and shouted "I will sponsor him!" The ogre's name was Chu'Vak. "If you sponsor this whelp again, you will share his punishment for failure," the elder replied. "I believe he has more power than any of these pathetic lot," spat Chu'Vak. The crowed was then in uproar.  Cries of rage and insults were thrown at the unnamed ogre but not at Chu'Vak, for he was the strongest of the tribe. The elder then raised his voice "Silence!," he looked at Chu'Vak "Very well. You will sponsor his rite of passage. This meeting is over, return to your posts." The crowd then dispersed and Chu'Vak approached the unnamed ogre. "What have you done. You know I cannot do this," whispered the unnamed ogre. "I would not sponsor you if you were not able to become named," said Chu'Vak, he smiled and gestured to the unnamed ogre "Let us begin."

 

    The unnamed ogre was stripped of his possessions and was granted only a loincloth. He was then cast into the expansive forest wilderness. "What good am I? I can't do anything besides toss logs into Chu'Vak's forge," muttered the unnamed ogre. Chu'Vak was the not only the strongest ogre of the tribe but he was also the blacksmith. He created the weapons used by the entire tribe. The unnamed ogre then proceeded to pick up rocks he found to hunt game. He found a lone stag in a clearing trying to feed on some grass that had managed to grow. The unnamed ogre stood up and threw one of the rocks. The rock hit at the upper neck region of the stag. The rock not only hit with enough force to kill the stag instantly but to actually pierce through the other side and smash into the tree behind it. The unnamed ogre was quite surprised. "I didn't hit it that hard," he thought. He grumbled because now the rest of the herd will have scattered due to the sound. At least the stag was large enough to survive the whole three days unlike the last two attempts of the rite. He gathered his prize and got to work on making two fire pits. One of the pits would be use for warmth and cooking some of the meat. The second pit would be used for smoking and curing the rest of the meat. "I do not understand why this is the hardest part of the rite of passage," thought the unnamed ogre. "I can kill game without problem and find suitable weapons for other ogres to use in the fight. So why do the others complain about the first part of the rite?" The unnamed ogre pondered this question for the rest of the day while happily eating his kill and drinking from the nearby spring.

 

     The next day came and the ogre began to come up with his strategy. "I cannot wield the heavy weapons like other ogres, so how am I going to kill the beast?" His first attempt, he tried to wield a giant club. The club was to heavy for him to swing and dodge the mighty Devilsaur's attacks. His second attempt he used a smaller club but the club could not break through the massive armored scales of the beast. The ogre then began to think on what Chu'Vak told him. When Chu'Vak pulled him aside before the rite he asked the ogre:

 

"Do you remember the day you almost ruined my forge?"

 

"I remember you almost killed me when you broke out in furious rage."

 

"But, do you remember what caused it?"

 

"I was working on two throw-able objects that could obstruct our enemies vision."

 

"Yes, maybe you can try to use that in battle."

  

     The unnamed ogre smiled, because now the answer was obvious. He would use his precision of rock throwing and his ingenuity of creating devices to defeat the Devilsaur. "Thank you master," whispered the ogre. He set out to gather supplies for the upcoming battle. First, he gather five large rocks that were as big as his head. Then he gathered several piles of guano and magnesium rocks. The big rocks he crushed into powder and then it coated in a cement mixture. The result would be a hard shell with a grey rock powder inside. He set the rocks aside to harden before tomorrow. Next, he took the bat guano and some of the wood ashes he was collecting and boiled the mixture. He then took the magnesium rocks and grounded them into a powder. He finally took the mixture he had been making, which is now known as potassium nitrate, and combined it with the magnesium mixture. He used the stag hide he had been saving to wrap the mixture with flint rock into pouches. He then waited until the final day.

 

    The day of the hunt had arrived. He returned to the village with his back pack of rocks. As he approached the entrance the guards laughed because they thought he had been unsuccessful at claiming a prize to defeat his last trial. The laughter was cut short when Chu'Vak arrived. Chu'Vak glared at the guards but said nothing. "Are you ready young one?" Chu'Vak asked shifting his gaze back to the ogre. The ogre nodded and they were on their way to the land of the Devilsaurs. Along the journey the unnamed ogre picked up smooth, round stones he found on the road. When they finally arrived, Chu'Vak sat on a hill, and gestured. "That is the one you will kill," he pointed at the largest Devilsaur. The unnamed ogre was taken aback, the first two rites, Chu'Vak told him to fight the smallest of the pack. But now the unnamed ogre would have to kill the Alpha male? The unnamed ogre regained his composure and nodded. The ogre started down the hill towards the Devilsaur.

 

     The closer he got the more intimidated the unnamed ogre got. But this was the moment he would be able to claim his rightful place in the tribe. He laid his pack on the ground and steeled himself for combat. He laid out the rocks he gathered in row in front of him. First, he started by picking up a smooth stone. He then threw it with all his might at one of the legs of the Devilsaur. The Devilsaur roared with enough volume to shake the ground. The ogre again was surprised on how much damage he had dealt. "It is bleeding from a wound at this distance?" he thought. The Devilsaur then noticed what feeble being had attacked it. The Devilsaur roared once again and began charging the ogre. However, the first step it took caused the beast to stumble, but the mighty beast recovered and started the charge again, albeit slower. The ogre then grabbed his powder stones and threw them into the indents in the plains. The stones exploded and dispersed a smoke of grey that covered the holes. The beast attempted to charge through the smoke but it stepped into the holes causing the beast to fall bringing its head down. The ogre then threw his flash stones. The flash stones hit the top of the head of the beast. The stones exploded causing bright lights to appear right in the front of the beast's eyes. The beast threw back its head in pain the beast now stood still with its head flung back. This was the moment the ogre had been waiting for. He threw all his smooth stones as fast as he could. Each of the deadly projectiles found its mark below the chin where the beast had no armored scales. The projectiles penetrated the soft under tissue of the throat and continued upwards pass the jaw. The beast stopped its painful thrashing because stone had struck the brain of the beast and it fell to the ground dead. The battle had been won. The ogre looked back to his master, who stood up and bellowed a victory cry.

 

      The two ogres came back to the village three days later. The elder was outside to meet them. The elder spoke "Any longer and we would have presumed you two had ran from the challenge." Chu'Vak grunted "Do you think I would run? No, I came back with my pupil's prize: the head of a Devilsaur alpha!" The ogres that had rushed out were astonished. The only person to kill a Devilsaur alpha during the rite was the elder himself. "It took us too long to drag the beast's head back for us to return in the same day!" scoffed Chu'Vak. "Very well, with this impressive display have you come with a proper name for your pupil?" the elder said with an impressed face. "I have. His name shall be Gro'Vak the Stone Thrower and he is the mightiest warrior of the tribe!" yelled Chu'Vak. Gro'Vak was then surrounded by the village who congratulated him and offered him tokens so that he may appreciate this legendary day. Gro'Vak would later become the elder one day for he was the strongest of his tribe.

[Serif The Sheriff 73]

The Elven Gods are gone. They have not been seen in ages and most elven kind has accepted that they no longer exist, and may have never existed in the first place. One elf, Serif of Lythoran, has dedicated his entire existence to proving they are still out there, and still hold the power of old. His search has led him to this worlds capital, Heralith, where he believes he will find one of his Gods, and it is here that our story begins.

Serif arrives at the massive city in awe of its expanse and taken back by the variety of species that have claimed it as home. As he makes his way to the nearest inn he sees an orcish guild with a large GS engraved atop their gate, underneath the gate is a larger orc ranting on about the tyranny of Heraliths council. As Serif walks by the orc grabs him by the shoulder, "Leave now before you lose your soul! Don't let the council corrupt you!" spits the orc. Ignoring the orcs ranting Serif continues on to the inn and rents a room so he can unpack his maps and scrolls in order to further study them before heading to the cities scribe.

Hours later Serif arrives at the library with his maps where he finds Scribe Coolness who he believes can help lead him to an old elven shrine near the city. Walking through the library Serif hears several orcs, humans, elves, and undead talking about these shrines scattered around the city, but only the orcs and undead seem to know for sure where there shrines are. Scribe Coolness approaches Serif, "Ah, a young elf, no doubt seeking a shrine?" questioned the scribe.

"As a matter of fact yes, I have traveled far and was told you would know where a shrine to the old gods is still intact."

"I know of such a place, but you should be warned, no elf has been brave enough to attempt to reach this place. The journey will be perilous and you will face many a foe," the scribes face became very serious.

"I am not afraid, the Gods have called on me as their chosen one to rise up and lead the elves back to them," stated Serif.

"Hah, you think the Gods have chosen you? Very well then, if you truly believe then you must travel to the Great Tree, it is the old capital of the Elven Kingdom. There you will find a shrine at the top of the tree and if the Gods truly exist, you will receive a great power."

Serif quickly ran back to the inn and packed up his things, and as he came running out of the inn he ran smack dab into the large protesting orc. "Where ya going in such a hurry man," questioned the orc.

"I am going to the Great Tree so that I may receive a great power from the Gods and lead my people."

"The road there is dangerous and you're going to need some help. I shall come with you and help you on this journey. You may call me Ghoul," bellowed the orc.

So together Serif and Ghoul set off for the Great Tree in search of this fabled power. Over the next two months the pair would deal with many trials and hardships. They fought scores of undead, slew hundreds of humans, defeated a tribe of elementals, battled through the legendary crypt lords and more. Finally they had found it, the Great Tree loomed above them, Serif was so excited he couldn't contain it and giddy as a small girl he sprinted to the tree and up it's winding stairs. Reaching the top covered in dirt and spiderwebs Serif had finally done it, he found the last shrine of the Elven Gods.

All over the shrine were sets of armor worn by the gods greatest warriors, racks of their spears and swords scattered everywhere covered in dust and cobwebs. In the middle of the room shone a single ray of light upon an altar, as Serif approached it he did not hear the faint hum he had read about in his scrolls. Nothing was happening, Serif slammed his fists against the altar and cried out to the gods, "Gods of old it is I, Serif of Lythoran, your chosen one! I have found your shrine, I am hear to claim your power," shouted the young elf. Only silence followed and as day turned to night he prayed and performed ritual after ritual while his companion Ghoul watched with a heavy heart.

A day passed and Serif had heard nothing from the Gods, he had no new great power, no visions, no signs, no clue what to do next. As he left the altar he knocked over a weapon rack and sitting amongst the rusted weaponry there was something still shining. It was an old spear with Ethbakil engraved on the shaft, it was the spear wielded by Protectorate Swilthen, an elf famed for upholding the Gods and their powers as elven kind first began to reject them. A smile crept over Serifs face, he may not have found his great power yet, but he had a godly weapon he knew was left to him as a sign of good faith from the Gods.

Serif and Ghoul began their journey back to Heralith, again fighting against many more foes. They fought threw Cannibals, Golden-tails, Defilers, the Masters of War, Go, and Three, but no foe could withstand the might of the large orc and the elf with his new weapon. However, as they saw Heralith in the distance there was smoke rising and they could hear deathly screams and cries for help.

The pair ran to the city as fast as they could, as they got closer something came up behind them with blinding speed and snagged Ethbakill away from Serif before throwing it away. Serif shot roots from the ground and managed to catch this creature as he and Ghoul dispatched it. This creature was something Serif had never seen before, but Ghoul recognized it as one of the gnats. Serif picked up his spear and as they entered the city there were gnats everywhere, terrorizing the city and setting it ablaze.

The battle of the gnats lasted for weeks before the warriors within Heralith were able to purge them and force a retreat. While the city recuperated from the event Serif found Scribe Coolness, "I found the shrine, but no such power awaited me. Surely there must be something else you have found in your studies," demanded Serif.

"There is another place, but it would take two of your lifetimes to reach it."

"It matters not, I will find it and I will do whatever it takes to do so," stated Serif.

"Give me three days to study my maps again and I shall see if I can find anything else."

Serif left the scribe to his studies and three days later returned. The scribe had found another shrine that was reachable, but it would be a long and hard journey. Serif packed his things and departed anyways, knowing he would reach the shrine and finally receive his power from the Gods. Along his journey the elf grew ever closer to the shrine, but as he got close he had a run in with the Heralith council and went into exile. During his exile Serif found another land, but that is a story for another time.

After a year of exile Serif returned to find that another elf called Raina had picked up where he left off searching for the Elven Gods. This elf had managed to get further than he had but still was unsuccessful so Serif pledged to continue his quest and not let anything stop him until he found what he was looking for. He want to see his old scribe friend only to learn that Scribe Coolness had long since gone. However, before his departure, the scribe had found something, the thorn of the Elven God Thornatox fashioned into a blade. With the blade in hand Serif began preparations for his journey, but something was amiss.

Serif found the orc Ghoul and asked for his help like the old times, but Ghoul had pledged his services to another, as had most others in the city. An elf by the name of Star, though he sometimes went by Carmi, had risen up and wanted to claim the Gods power for himself. But Serif knew Carmi was only doing it because he had heard the tales from other night elves and just wanted to have power.

Star left the city with support from many of its inhabitants and the supplies to get him farther much quicker than Serif and Raina had. So Serif set off hastily with Ethbakill and Thorn in hand, determined to beat Star to the shrine so he could fulfill his duty to the Gods. The two elves have now become rivals, and both race to find the shrine and achieve power. Star with the help and support of his people, Serif with only the strength of his Gods, who knows who will reach the shrine first. Some say Raina is still out there somewhere, still trying to find his way, but no matter what happens, one of these three elves will claim the favor of the Gods for good or for evil. That story is still unfolding though...

Edit: added spacing between paragraphs and dialogue

Edited December 25, 2015 by Serif The Sheriff

[Wintergreen 1603]

Fucking nerds

[zebra 178]

do i win yet?