Orijinalini görmek için tıklayınız : BLC Edebiyat Yarışması Kazananları

02/12/2011, 17:42
1. animalrager

Cain sat silently brooding over his flagon in the corner of the crowded tavern. The mead was of poor quality, and everything was filthy. The straw covering the ground was mashed into the mud; the spilt mead of hundreds of drunks had turned the ground into thick soup. The tavern reeked of vomit and a mass of unwashed bodies all crowded into a small windowless space. The press of the crowd made the tavern stifling and hot. Cain looked down and grimaced. He couldn’t see the grain of the wood in the table he was seated at, or the wood grain of the flagon in front of him for that matter. Everything was grimy. But the squalor and noise did not bother Cain, and it did not interrupt his focus.
A large iron shield, shined to a high polish even in the midst of the filth around it and mounted on the wall, gave Cain a panoramic view of the entire room. For the most part, everyone was quite simply drunk. In the far corner, a Reaver was drinking another fool under the table, while the onlookers jeered and shouted. The most important view offered however, was of the tables to his back. A man fair of hair and face sat neglecting his mead, watching Cain, not knowing his gaze was being returned. Further behind Cain’s watcher was a second man, an obvious relative of the first.
Two of them... Cain took a deep pull from his flagon, and continued his drunken facade. He could feel a peculiar burning sensation in his core, evidence that the clarity potion given to him by the shady street Alchemist was not a fake. Maybe this is how the Reavers do it. He set his flagon down and drew out a small pouch from a hidden pocket on his vest. Inside the pouch was a small vial with a murky liquid, tightly capped with a cork and coated in wax to seal it. Without any making any sudden movements Cain drew a small needle from his wrist guard.
Cain peeled the wax coating from the vial, and gently removed the cork, careful not to reveal any of his actions to the men watching him from behind. He delicately dipped the needle tip into the liquid and watched as it traveled up the barely visible groove running in a spiral around the it. Cain quickly resealed the vial and deposited the needle dart in the long hidden tube of his wrist guard.
Then Cain stood up unsteadily, knocking his chair down, and finished off his flagon. It’s too bad that clarity potion can’t stop this mead from tasting like swamp water. Without the normal grace he usually carried himself with, Cain moved to the entrance of the tavern. Getting through the swarm of drunken laborers was difficult, but Cain was of small stature, so the going did not prove too rough. Out of his peripheral vision he noticed the two men getting up to follow him.

He reached the portal and stepped out into the cleaner, if not clean smelling air of the Toleen Slums District. The Slums District backed up to the Docks District, and was the location of the less tasteful warehouses and businesses, such as various tanneries and brothels. The stench of rotten fish and tanning chemicals was almost overpowering, but a light breeze from the bay was at least providing circulation. Continuing along with his feigned drunken stumble, Cain moved down the alley way, stepping over heaps of garbage, and what appeared to be a week old corpse. Think what the Toleen City Council may, there was no ignoring the fact that the Slums existed. Every city had a poor section; it was unavoidable. Even the great and mysterious Trolobe has one. Above the tall walls of the surrounding buildings, Cain could see the stars. Beyond what small amount of light they provided, the alley was dark.
After walking for several minutes through the twisting corridor that was the Slums District, Cain felt a hand grab his shoulder. Immediately dropping the drunken facade, Cain twisted in an explosion of speed and power, grabbing the fair faced man by the offending wrist. Almost too fast to follow, Cain rotated the man’s arm, pulled him forward, and shattered his elbow with a upthrust of his free palm. The man screamed, but only for a second, as Cain placed a vice grip like hand on his throat. Cain’s attacker struggled for a brief moment against the unbelievable strength packed into such a small man before collecting himself, and Cain released his grip slightly to allow for breathing.
“Why are you following me?” Cain asked in a nonchalant yet threatening voice. After a momentary show of silent defiance, the man replied.
“You know why. The Imperial Society does not forgive grievances, it only punishes them. You will never find a sanctuary from the Society.”
Cain let out an annoyed sigh. This was the second encounter with an Imperial Ranid in the past year. He had hoped that leaving Ga'Tamang would be enough to escape the influence of the Imperial Ranid Society, but he was wrong.
“And they send you? Boy, do you have any idea who I am? Some call me the greatest assassin to ever live. Others are afraid to say my name. What made you think you could come after me?”
The helpless man snickered. “The Elders have placed a bounty on you. I am not the only one hunting you. There are others; there will always be others.” As if to emphasize the impending doom facing Cain, the man spit in his face.
Cain increased the pressure of his grip, and panic grew in the fair man’s face. His thrashing intensified, accompanied by small gurgles, until his eyes caught something behind Cain. From somewhere behind him, Cain heard an inhalation of breath. Reacting on instinct, Cain turned, dragging the fair faced man around to intercept the multiple darts fired from somewhere on the rooftops. A quick shudder passed through the dying man, and Cain released him. A graceful sweep of the legs sent him into a pile of old garbage.
Cain did a perfunctory scan of the rooftops before dropping into a crouch. The other assassin would not be in the same location of course. He would attempt to move behind or above Cain. An imperceptibly small amount of dust drifted down from the ledge above him.
Without thought, Cain moved. He leapt into a forward roll across the ground just as the assassin landed where he was, a small knife at the ready. Coming out of his roll, Cain pushed off to the side, using his momentum to spin kick off the wall. His kick caught the wrist of his assailant mid-slash, disarming him. The assassin pulled a punch dagger from his own wrist guard and charged forward.

Stunned, but not down, the bleeding assassin prepared to continue his attack once again, until Cain pulled out his hidden blowgun and sent the prepared needle zipping through the air. The small dart pierced the assassins throat. He quickly reached up and pinched the dart to pull it out, disregarding the small spiraling grooves that would shred his skin. In a single motion, the assassin removed the needle and touched the it to his tongue, tasting the toxin. His eyes widened in shock.
“Thorn’s Blood. Please... kill me now,” the assassin pleaded.
“Who placed the bounty?” Cain responded.
“It was Councilor Kugo. When you left, you killed his son for stopping you. He...” The assassin was growing weak. He stumbled. “Kugo... ordered the bounty... The other Councilors simply approved it. Please... kill me now!” He fell to his hands and knees and retched.
Cain stood there, mulling over this information while the assassin fell to the ground, convulsing. Then he left, ignoring the dying man.

The next day, Cain made his way into the street alchemist’s shop. The smell of herbs and chemicals was overwhelming, and small vials decorated the shelves while new potions were being brewed on various tables.
“You again,” the shady woman stated. “You need something I suppose?”
Cain replied, “I need twenty vials of Thorn’s Blood. Immediately.” It was not a request.
“Twenty vials! The one vial was hard enough to get. Do you know how rare, not to mention illegal, the stuff is?” She stared at Cain for several seconds, then sighed. “You are going to hurt many people aren’t you.” She managed to turn the question into a statement.
Cain blinked.
“I’ll want the gold now of course. Your order will be ready in a few days at the most.”
Cain undid a drawstring on his belt and tossed a heavy bag on the table.

2. Malakor
I wanna beat the very best
And prove that I'm a boss
Rank 1 is my real test
To grade up is my cause!

I will travel to Baako's Grave
Bridges side by side
The arenas of the brave
Where Warm and Cold collide

(BLC)Gotta patch 'em all!
It's 3v3
Skillshots to eternity
Ooooh, we will ascend
And place first at seasons end!
(BLC)Gotta patch 'em all!
Me vs You
And also, there's 2v2
You touch me and I'll teach you
(BLC)Gotta patch 'em all!
Gotta patch 'em all!
('nuff said!)

Small bug fixes and balance tweaks
The devs will set it right
Forums flowing with critiques
But they still code all night

Pick and choose, your archetype
Which bloodline suits you best?
Ranged, melee or even tank
And healer for the rest

(BLC)Gotta patch 'em all!
It's 3v3
Skillshots to eternity
Ooooh, we will ascend
And place first at seasons end!
(BLC)Gotta patch 'em all!
Me vs You
And also, there's 2v2
You touch me and I'll teach you
(BLC)Gotta patch 'em all!
Gotta patch 'em all!

Gotta patch 'em all!
Gotta patch 'em all!
Gotta patch 'em all!
(nuff said!)

(BLC)Gotta patch 'em all!
It's 3v3
Skillshots to eternity
Ooooh, we will ascend
And place first at seasons end!
(BLC)Gotta patch 'em all!
Me vs You
And also, there's 2v2
You touch me and I'll teach you
(BLC)Gotta patch 'em all!
Gotta patch 'em all! (BLC)
3. maglame
The young boy first unlocked Igniter,
but his spells were more like sparks than fire.
When others had their Conflagration,
not hitting M1's was his frustration.

He couln't believe his own poor luck,
after living flame he's a sitting duck.
Searing displacement right into Goo,
maybe ranged DPS is not for you?

Never discouraged the boy moved on,
perhaps a healer would be strong?
He slaved at his job for months to afford,
six hundred points in the funcom store.

His friends had told him of imbalance,
and picking Grimrog offers little challenge.
He figured he'd claw his way into diamond,
but Grimgol's Gate placed him down in iron.

Was Grimrog hit by Curse of Weakness,
it did feel like he lost his 1337ness.
He read the forums and surely knew,
he was too late for season two.

So what's the FotM of our season?
Surely, some classes are not within reason!
Is it Vanguard or is it Thorn?
Between the tanks our hero is torn.

Pull into Roots is too damn hard,
and socks with sandals excludes Vanguard.
He tops the TPS, but still he loses,
no matter which of tanks he chooses.

So what can he pick to stop this fail?
With Stalker at least he'll make healers pale.
He picks his target and tunnels hard,
you don't even have to let down your guard.

Yes, holding M1 is Quick and easy!
And even though people say it's cheesy,
our hero has never felt so good,
space into Dagger and call you a nub.

02/12/2011, 17:50
Blc'm de iyi Edebiyatım da.Girsem kazanırmışım.:)

02/12/2011, 17:58
İkincisi Pokemon'un BLC versiyonu. :D

02/12/2011, 18:05
Şarkısını da çıkarsalar ya :D Ben dinlerim -.-

02/12/2011, 20:11
Edebiyat ( ._.)