Slann
Killer Angel
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Discussion Black Library opens submissions!
- Thread starter Killer Angel
- Start date
Slann
Scalenex
Keeper of the Indexes
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I'm not sure if this would fit the bill, but I like the short story entries that cover the horror and mystery involving the transition from Lizardmen to Seraphon. I'm not sure that's what they are looking for, but it's a worth a shot.
Also if we can work out a story for "a day in the life" to cover what Seraphon do when they aren't fighting that could get the ball rolling on official Seraphon fluff. I will continue brainstorming and others should follow. Unfortunately my brain is stuck on Lizardmen.
Also if we can work out a story for "a day in the life" to cover what Seraphon do when they aren't fighting that could get the ball rolling on official Seraphon fluff. I will continue brainstorming and others should follow. Unfortunately my brain is stuck on Lizardmen.
Slann
Killer Angel
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We have examples of interesting Seraphon fluff in our Competitions.
It would be brilliant if some of them (or something new along the same lines) would be included in this project, thus becoming "official lore".
Slann
Scalenex
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I would encourage everyone to try. The worst they can do is say no.
I'd be happy to help proof read submissions. I'm sure at least a half a dozen other forumites would be willing to look things over.
Slann
Killer Angel
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Good to know! ...but one thing at a time.
Now I must finish the story about the power of music.
Now I must finish the story about the power of music.
Slann
NIGHTBRINGER
Second Spawning
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Correction... the worst they can do is release more SCE (unless you're into them of course). Aside from that though, point taken.
Take a shot!!! Go forth my scaly brothers and sisters and let your words be heard (read).
Slann
Killer Angel
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I want to. At most, I will elaborate one of the stories I've presented in our competitions...
Slann
Scalenex
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My thought is maybe do 300 words to describe the premise. 200 words to give a snippet of the stories hook or climax. Ballpark. Maybe 500 words to outline the premise, beginning, middle, and end.
Salamander
discomute
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I believe the sample story is 500
I am on my phone but think I operates differently than the outline
Salamander
discomute
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Riighteo
I just read the terms and conditions
When you submit the story you are giving GW the full and exclusive rights to the story. Additionally, they wouldn't even have to give you credit.
Also when you win.... well have you actually read what you get? I mean, literally nothing. They have just said they are "looking for people".
As I read this contest, they can literally take everything people have written and never award any prizes or any winners. If you make it to the black library, do you get paid? Do they just take your story for free and then move onto the next round of submissions?
It's very strange. I am not certain I will enter...
Slann
Scalenex
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I understand your reasoning. But, just keep in mind we don't get paid to post things on L-O either.
I don't plan to stop writing GW fan fiction but I do plan to split my time between that and my own world/intellectual property.
Salamander
discomute
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No, but you don't own my writing when I post on here.
The part about prize money was to highlight the 'no upside' issue.
Literally GW could take everyone's work, print it, refuse to credit or pay anyone. That's their T&C.
Salamander
discomute
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Just as a follow up. I wrote to them with these questions and they responded:
---
If your get through the open submissions, you will be asked to complete the story. When finished, and accepted by the editorial team, the story may then be printed in a future volume of Inferno! which would list you as the author. On acceptance of the story, you would also be paid for the story, at our usual short story rates.
If you are unsuccessful, the work will be deleted. However, because you would be writing about Warhammer universes, characters etc and because that work is based on our Intellectual Property you would not be able to publish and sell the content. So if you draft and submit a submission to us, and it is unsuccessful (and we delete it), then in reality they cannot use the submission for anything else. (Though we don’t object to non-commercial fanfiction posted online.)
---
It seems the T&C's have simply been written by an overzealous lawyer who does not reflect what the intention of the competition is. Which is hardly surprising.
---
If your get through the open submissions, you will be asked to complete the story. When finished, and accepted by the editorial team, the story may then be printed in a future volume of Inferno! which would list you as the author. On acceptance of the story, you would also be paid for the story, at our usual short story rates.
If you are unsuccessful, the work will be deleted. However, because you would be writing about Warhammer universes, characters etc and because that work is based on our Intellectual Property you would not be able to publish and sell the content. So if you draft and submit a submission to us, and it is unsuccessful (and we delete it), then in reality they cannot use the submission for anything else. (Though we don’t object to non-commercial fanfiction posted online.)
---
It seems the T&C's have simply been written by an overzealous lawyer who does not reflect what the intention of the competition is. Which is hardly surprising.
Slann
Killer Angel
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In the end, i didn't sent anything 
Kroxigor
thedarkfourth
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I got rejected too. Re-reading my submission now, I can see why. My extract was rushed and quite generic. Still, I think the final story would have been good if I'd taken to the time to write it properly. Posted below in case anyone's interested in what a rejected submission looks like. It was going to be called "The Ringer".
***
Summary
The story is set in Azyrheim, where we will see a little beyond the gleaming spires and unassailable
fortifications into the life of the real people who live within the metropolis. Our hero is one Ansa
Fink, a rogue and a con-artist, who recruits a small team of misfits (an aelf and duardin) to join her
mad scheme to pull off the ultimate heist. They plan to rob the great Vault of the Magistrates,
located beneath the Palace of Justice. When her teammates declare the job impossible, Ansa assures
them she has a "ringer". Meanwhile, hosts of Seraphon are laying siege to an infestation of Khorne
daemons in the realm of Ghyran. Just as starpriest Uxtin believes he is finally making headway, he
is yanked out of the battle by his slann starmaster, who has another mission for him. In Azyrheim,
Uxtin materialises within the Vault at a key moment in the heist, allowing Ansa's team to sneak in
and take the treasures. Uxtin is disdainful of the bumbling mortals, but comes to respect their valour
as they are pursued by guards of the citadel. At a key moment, Ansa hands Uxtin the loot while they
make a dash for it, only for Uxtin to betray them by vanishing back into the heavens - all part of the
starmaster's plan to secure a key artefact required to defeat Chaos. Ansa is thrown in jail, but we
end with her seeing a flash of light, hearing the jailor get knocked out, and the keys to the cell
skittering to her feet. Uxtin returns the rest of the treasure after the artefact is secure.
Sample
Ansa arrived at the table balancing three pints of yellow mead. She put a couple of coins down with
each stein as she passed them out.
"Amazing how you always seem to have more money after buying a round," commented Dyffros,
tactfully.
"I ain't complaining," growled Rardrol, pocketing the change and hefting the mug.
"What can I say? They like me here," smiled Ansa.
"Because you've never been in before. Why have you dragged us to the posh part of the city?
They're looking at us like sewer rats."
The trio glanced around at the finely-dressed clientele. A couple of fully-armoured Stormcast
hulked silently in the corner, their helms brushing the ceiling as they sipped their pints through
dainty straws, unwilling to remove their masks even here.
"I won't hear a word said against the fine people of central Azyrheim," said Ansa, clearing her
throat. "Admittedly, the toll is a little steep at the golden gates, but it's a sound investment when you
consider what easy marks these idiots are. But that's not the reason you're here."
"Oh gods. What's the reason we're here?" asked Dyffros, tensing like he was about to be struck.
"That is." Ansa pointed. Through the small windows, the grim shape of the Palace of Justice reared.
They looked up. And up.
"No," said Dyffros. "No way."
"Hear me out."
"You've finally lost it, lad," said Rardrol, quietly.
"Have I ever led you wrong before?"
"Pretty much every time."
"OK, but it's not every time that we stand to gain enough gold to live like kings for the rest of our
lives. Hell, our grandchildren will live like kings."
"Ansa!" Dyffros was wild-eyed, incredulous. "It's impossible! It's pure suicide. Ten-foot thick steel
walls. Uncrackable locks. A host of guards - stormcast guards, not the oafs they keep upstairs. You
can't trick or bribe stormcast, Ansa! They never sleep!"
Ansa scoffed. "Oh, they sleep. They're not all that. Besides, I've got a ringer."
They stared at her some more.
"A ringer. In the Palace of Justice."
"Yup. Doesn't even want a cut, just one of the items in the vault."
"You're being set up."
"Believe me, if you'd met this guy, you'd trust him too."
There was a silence, and more staring. Ansa took a gulp of mead.
"Listen, guys. You said you wanted to do something great. Something to be remembered by. Think
of it. This could be the biggest job Azyr's ever seen. They'll be singing about us for an age! My plan
is rock solid, I guarantee it. So are you in?"
Dyffros and Rardrol looked at each other, their eyes like slits. Finally the aelf turned back to Ansa.
"You're asking us to take on the most desperate, hairbrained job in living memory, for the slim
chance of glory with the almost certain risk of rotting the rest of our lives in a cell or worse." He
downed the rest of his pint. "Hell yes we're in."
***
Summary
The story is set in Azyrheim, where we will see a little beyond the gleaming spires and unassailable
fortifications into the life of the real people who live within the metropolis. Our hero is one Ansa
Fink, a rogue and a con-artist, who recruits a small team of misfits (an aelf and duardin) to join her
mad scheme to pull off the ultimate heist. They plan to rob the great Vault of the Magistrates,
located beneath the Palace of Justice. When her teammates declare the job impossible, Ansa assures
them she has a "ringer". Meanwhile, hosts of Seraphon are laying siege to an infestation of Khorne
daemons in the realm of Ghyran. Just as starpriest Uxtin believes he is finally making headway, he
is yanked out of the battle by his slann starmaster, who has another mission for him. In Azyrheim,
Uxtin materialises within the Vault at a key moment in the heist, allowing Ansa's team to sneak in
and take the treasures. Uxtin is disdainful of the bumbling mortals, but comes to respect their valour
as they are pursued by guards of the citadel. At a key moment, Ansa hands Uxtin the loot while they
make a dash for it, only for Uxtin to betray them by vanishing back into the heavens - all part of the
starmaster's plan to secure a key artefact required to defeat Chaos. Ansa is thrown in jail, but we
end with her seeing a flash of light, hearing the jailor get knocked out, and the keys to the cell
skittering to her feet. Uxtin returns the rest of the treasure after the artefact is secure.
Sample
Ansa arrived at the table balancing three pints of yellow mead. She put a couple of coins down with
each stein as she passed them out.
"Amazing how you always seem to have more money after buying a round," commented Dyffros,
tactfully.
"I ain't complaining," growled Rardrol, pocketing the change and hefting the mug.
"What can I say? They like me here," smiled Ansa.
"Because you've never been in before. Why have you dragged us to the posh part of the city?
They're looking at us like sewer rats."
The trio glanced around at the finely-dressed clientele. A couple of fully-armoured Stormcast
hulked silently in the corner, their helms brushing the ceiling as they sipped their pints through
dainty straws, unwilling to remove their masks even here.
"I won't hear a word said against the fine people of central Azyrheim," said Ansa, clearing her
throat. "Admittedly, the toll is a little steep at the golden gates, but it's a sound investment when you
consider what easy marks these idiots are. But that's not the reason you're here."
"Oh gods. What's the reason we're here?" asked Dyffros, tensing like he was about to be struck.
"That is." Ansa pointed. Through the small windows, the grim shape of the Palace of Justice reared.
They looked up. And up.
"No," said Dyffros. "No way."
"Hear me out."
"You've finally lost it, lad," said Rardrol, quietly.
"Have I ever led you wrong before?"
"Pretty much every time."
"OK, but it's not every time that we stand to gain enough gold to live like kings for the rest of our
lives. Hell, our grandchildren will live like kings."
"Ansa!" Dyffros was wild-eyed, incredulous. "It's impossible! It's pure suicide. Ten-foot thick steel
walls. Uncrackable locks. A host of guards - stormcast guards, not the oafs they keep upstairs. You
can't trick or bribe stormcast, Ansa! They never sleep!"
Ansa scoffed. "Oh, they sleep. They're not all that. Besides, I've got a ringer."
They stared at her some more.
"A ringer. In the Palace of Justice."
"Yup. Doesn't even want a cut, just one of the items in the vault."
"You're being set up."
"Believe me, if you'd met this guy, you'd trust him too."
There was a silence, and more staring. Ansa took a gulp of mead.
"Listen, guys. You said you wanted to do something great. Something to be remembered by. Think
of it. This could be the biggest job Azyr's ever seen. They'll be singing about us for an age! My plan
is rock solid, I guarantee it. So are you in?"
Dyffros and Rardrol looked at each other, their eyes like slits. Finally the aelf turned back to Ansa.
"You're asking us to take on the most desperate, hairbrained job in living memory, for the slim
chance of glory with the almost certain risk of rotting the rest of our lives in a cell or worse." He
downed the rest of his pint. "Hell yes we're in."