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2018 January - February Duelyst Lore Contest


One and many at the same time
Who am I? I am me. I am all my brothers, we are the same. I am never alone. I follow my kind, my kind follows me. If one would fall, other would take his place. we are the same in both mind and body, there are no two different from us.
But there is something odd about all of us: We don`t support our kind, we cannot help them. Even though we are made from the same scraps, we cannot support others, we are weak, we heed support, none really benefit from us in our kind, only as power recievers.
But some realise our purpose in life, why we were made, what are our abilities. Our strenght is in numbers. We dont defeat our enemies with fantastic abilities, combination of mechanic, superhero themes. We overwhelm them. If they kill 10, we bring 20, if they kill 100, we bring 200. There is nothing stopping our armada, we will rush onwards, until the command to stop is given. We do not pick an alliance, we have free will.
Atleast until the generals of Mythron decided to put an end to our force and limit our power and production. They waged a war against our kind, bolts of magic, electricity, fire, shadow and sand were devastating. Multiple of us were forced to fight against our kind, against ourselves, against our leader. The battlefield was filled with scraps, bolts and blood, as the fight was over.
They closed down the production factory, allowing only a certain couple of our kind to stay and continue our jobs, our purpose to live. We were assinged into generals armies to be a quick frontline, getting out many powerful soldiers right as the battle starts.
But we still remember the war, we remember our loss, and, in secret, we are working on reopening the factory, and this time, defeating the Generals and overtaking the Mythron for the mechs. We dont have a leader, we are a hive mind, able to influence the decisions of others of our kind. But meanwhile the hivemind is inactive, but when it would wake up, we will find overtake Mythron, because we know their strategies, and counters to them.
Authors note: Phew, first time writing a lore for something. I hope you enjoy this weird look into Replicants mind.

Duelyst Lore Contest Community Voting Jan-Feb 2018

I’m working on something gimme a while, should be up by Friday


Card: Windblade Adept

A Blade’s Doubt

Why was he chosen.

A mere bladesman,

Given a responsibility to go

to return with

A piece of nectar, from a tree of gold.

The Windblade sat atop the cathedral on the outskirts of Windcliffe, eyes downcast.
They were leaving for the Monolith, the Imperial Carriage set and readied, prepared to give them a hero’s send-off, but his mind was anywhere but with the Lyonar army.

His helm was in place, but his mind far away

His sheath ready, yet his body faltering.

He didn’t feel ready. He enlisted all those years ago for the love of his people, ready to leave his life at the door at the sign of any threat to the kingdom. Yet now, he sat, unsure not of his loyalty but of his ability, of his worthiness.

His eyes roamed skyward.

It sure was a beautiful day.

The Bladesman knew not

How he was chosen

Nor where he was asked to be brazen.

He knew only the ecstasy of the wind caught

on the edge of his sword

“Windblade! we are soon to be off! The General requests your prescence for the ceremony!”

a gruff, low voice punctuated the serene silence the soldier was enjoying, as he looked down.
The clanging of breastplates against pauldrons heralding the arrival of a heavily armored guardian, the Silverguard Knight marching proudly toward his position.

He glanced back to his drawn blade, steel glimmering in the summer sun,

His dubiety shaking his features

Reflected in the clear sheen of his steel.

He felt not worthy, not unworthy

He felt doubtful, not unsure

Yet somehow with each cry of his name

The zeal ignited yet again

Flaring like a lion’s mane

And the doubt,

Slowly faded away


Duelyst Lore Contest Community Voting Jan-Feb 2018

The card: Celebrant

A Study of Ancient Vetruvian History and Culture | Volume XXVI

“A mindless being
Borne of Man and Star
Loathsome creation
Shunned by both
Unholy creature mobbed by angels
Graceful light swallowed by demons
But it is not your moment
The spotlight does not yet shine
Rejoice in Existence
If only in Silence
Wander evermore
Spread your light
Gifted by the Heavens
Shaped by Man
A mindless being”

writing found in a abandoned camp within the Aymara Canyons

Much thought and investigation was given to this text upon its discovery by archaeologists hailing from the Lyonar Kingdom’s capital city of WindCliffe. One observation made was the age from whence it belonged which seemed to be just before the charge led by Ziros Starstrider in his infamous attempt to destroy the tyrannical regime headed by General Rasha and his incoming army. The story goes the extreme conditions under which Rasha’s army marched led to a profound internal weakening allowing Ziros to defeat them despite having very few numbers.

There has always been speculation over whether he was truly able to defeat Rasha armed only with pure wit and cleverness. The more skeptical side of the scientific community formulated an alternate theory which stated that the Vetruvians attunement with metal and knack for innovation drove them to create a society far more technologically advanced than its predecessors. Under such desperate circumstances, they conspired in secret, bringing together the best and brightest of their kind to create something really quite monstrous in an attempt to win the war.

One of these species were said to have the ability to create and absorb mana out of thin air and so what the army chased after was not simply luminescent metal, but real mana. The rest of the story goes that Rasha, mad for power, forced his army to chase after the mana deep in the Akram deserts which, during the night, were being placed further away until half the army succumbed to the heat creating an easy victory for Ziros.

There were various accounts of these species by soldiers who had survived the battle, but they were often chalked up as having lost their sanity to the heat that was the Akram Deserts. Some had even gone so far to say that they were being followed by the monsters, of course no evidence was found of this. Years after they were found dead, ripped apart into pieces.

This newly discovered text recently led to a revival of discussion among the established scientific community of this theory, but, safe to say, it was quickly dismissed. One does wonder, however, what ever could this text be referring to?

Author's Notes

I tried to make some sort of backstory to the golem tribe and because this contest focuses only on 2 drops it was either skyrock or celebrant. Celebrant is way more popular so that was an obvious choice.

The poem was obviously about celebrant in regards to its ability to produce mana tiles, but the text after was more about golems in general which was inspired by Fullmetal Alchemist or maybe it was that Captain America movie where they uncover Nazi Germany’s plot to use alchemy to create golems that would help them win the war.

I really hope you guys like it and maybe CPG will even use it to start creating more lore for tribes!

Duelyst Lore Contest Community Voting Jan-Feb 2018

My story is up now!


And 600 words too… Brings a tear to my eye…


Bu-bump, bu-bump, bu-bu-bu-BU-BU-BUMP!

A little less than 2 weeks folks, get those submissions in!



We’ve almost reached the last week for submissions folks! Get them in fast or else!


Seven Days…


I’m still undecided as to whether or not to count that placeholder in the final word count…




Function given forms

Clumsy fingers dug into the desert, adding the sound of scraping metal to the cacophony of buzzes, whirs, and howling winds. His eyes widened and narrowed, the apertures grinding against his poorly fitted lenses, leaving deep scratches in the corners of his vision. His predecessor had been careless in placing his eyes, but it was likely due to a lack of material. Inconvenient, but functional.

He supposed, as much as he could suppose anything, that everything about him was exactly as his life was going to be: Inconvenient, but functional.

While limited in what he could feel, something like a spark of joy shot through his chest as his hands brushed against something solid in the sand. The buzzing and whirring intensified as he went to work, clearing the sand with ham-handed swipes. His eyes narrowed again, absorbing the details of the newly uncovered treasure.


It wasn’t a voice, it was more like a signal. He could interpret it, but it wasn’t through a sense he understood. Somewhere between the wires, bottles, and cans that comprised his head was a thing that spoke without speaking in a way that only he could hear. He didn’t understand, and he didn’t really want to. What he did understand was that his treasure was unusable. He resumed digging. He felt the spark again, and back into the frantic humming and whirring he went.

Trash Receptacle…

He lifted the old metal trashcan above his head triumphantly. He didn’t know he looked triumphant, he just knew it would be the most efficient way to carry the can out of the pit. Anyone walking by would have assumed he felt successful for finding an old trashcan in the desert.

He scurried to his pile a few feet away, kicking up clouds of sand in his wake. He took a moment to examine his resources, his eyes again making grinding sounds as he adjusted his focus. Between the trash can, the tubing, and the raw copper ore, he had most of what he needed, and would be able to synthesize the rest from the remaining materials. He went to work, a blur of tools and sparks gradually forming the pile of refuse into a new form.

As quickly as the flurry of work had started, it ended, leaving scraps of metal and detritus tumbling about in the sand. He hadn’t had precisely what he needed for hip joints, but between a mason jar and what may have once been a trumpet, he had been able to eke out an adequate replacement.


He ran back off into the desert. Obeying the signal that rang through his head.

A new form stood in the desert where a meticulously collected pile of refuse used to be. His hip made an ominous popping sound each time he moved. His predecessor had been creative in its construction, but that was likely due to a lack of material. Inconvenient, but functional.

He supposed, as much as he could suppose anything, that everything about him was exactly as his life was going to be: Inconvenient, but functional.


His clumsy fingers dug into the desert, adding the sound of scraping metal to the cacophony of buzzes, whirs, and howling winds that grew louder by the day.

Duelyst Lore Contest Community Voting Jan-Feb 2018

Aaaaaand that’s a wrap folks! Thanks to all who participated, expect the voting poll to be up later today!


I really wanted to write something for Crystal Wisp, but I’d been too busy lately and never got to finish it. So, until next time!

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