Submit Your Fanfic to Win an Uncharted 2 Beta Key

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NuclearShadow

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"All prize winners are responsible for taxes and other surcharges on the prizes they win"

Wait why would this even be a issue for such a prize?

"11. Participation in the Contest constitutes an entrant’s consent to the Sponsor’s use of his/her name, likeness, voice, opinions, biographical information, and state of residence for promotional purposes in any media without further payment or consideration."

No thanks I would rather not become a whore to win such a shitty prize.
 

mavroxur

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[citation][nom]Master Exon[/nom]Tom's hardware offering a contest for a non-PC platform?WTF?[/citation]


As surprising as it may seem, sometimes "Hardware" can also refer to things other than computers.


Crazy, I know.

 

grab_bag

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i'm curious to know if multiple entries are allowed.

Good For It
-by grab_bag

Elena knocked on the door that connected her hotel room with Nathan and Sully’s. Shifting her weight back and forth on bare feet, she picked at a rather unsettling dark brown stain on her khaki capris. When the three of them had carefully hidden the stolen pirate boat and cargo and finally gotten back to their hotel rooms, they had all been so exhausted that each had fallen asleep immediately. The events of the last twelve hours had left Elena so physically and emotionally drained that she hadn’t even bothered to change, let alone shower, and so when she woke up after she didn’t know how long, she intended to clean up immediately, preferring not to think about what or whose bodily fluids she was idly scratching at.

The doorknob clicked and she heard Nathan’s sleepy tenor call out, “What’s up, Elena?”

“Hey, I was about to take a shower and I was wondering if- if…uh…”

Elena trailed off as Nathan opened the door wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped low around his waist, his dark hair dripping water down his neck. Her eyes involuntarily scanned down to his abs, where she could see his hips tapering into a V that met somewhere below the fabric.

“You were wondering…?” Nathan asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice. She pulled her gaze back to meet his, and shook her head slightly, trying to remember what she had needed.

“...ah, I was wondering if I could have your towel…I mean an extra towel,” She corrected herself. “Do you have an extra towel I can borrow? I was about to shower, I need one for my hair and my other ones are all still dirty…” Elena could feel herself blushing at the effect he had on her. She was usually pretty collected, both on- and off-camera, but now she tripped over words like she had never seen a man in a towel before. She got the impression that not only could Nathan tell he’d unsettled her, but also that he was quite pleased with this fact.

“Yeah, come on in, just give me a second,” he replied, and turned back towards his bathroom, grabbing a pair of jeans off one of the twin beds as he went. Elena followed him in, glancing around. Two suitcases spilled clothes over the floor, one at the foot of each unmade bed. Piles of maps and papers lay on one nightstand, and a half-empty box of cigars sat on the other. The bathroom door was still open a crack; Elena could see a vague movement in the steamed mirror and heard the towel hit the floor. Looking away quickly, she picked Nathan’s silver belt buckle up off the dresser and turned it over in her hands. The metal was tarnished and dented in several places, but the imprinted skull-and-crossbones was still visible, despite being worn down.

“So, um, where’s Sully?” she asked, more to fill the silence than out of any actual curiosity. She had a pretty good idea of where he was anyway.

“Down at the bar,” Nathan called out from the bathroom. “He’ll be working over the barmaid, if I know him, and not just trying to reduce his tab this time.”

“Back to the grindstone already then?” Elena smiled. The man was nothing if he wasn’t a charmer, and she was sure he’d be gone for a while. “Isn’t it a little early to be at a bar?”

“Not at all, Sleeping Beauty,” Nate replied, walking out in jeans and carrying a clean, folded towel. “You were out all night and most of the day too. It’s nearly 8pm. And besides-” he tossed the towel at her, which she caught with one hand, “-Sully’s rich now.”

“Sully’s *filthy* rich,” she corrected, placing the buckle back down.

“We all are,” he said, then much quieter, as if just realizing what he was saying, he repeated it. “We all are.” He was silent then, and Elena couldn’t tell if he was looking at her or through her into some memory.

“Right, just what you wanted," she said, and there was an awkward pause when he didn't reply.

"So…thanks for the towel,” she said to break the silence, giving it a little shake and starting back to her room. Smooth, she thought to herself. Real smooth.
She was just inside the door when she felt Nathan’s large hand close around her wrist. She turned back.

He hesitated, then said, “I’m really sorry about your camera,” his eyes not quite meeting hers. “I know how much it meant to you to get this story.”
His apology touched her. She thought she’d shrugged the loss of her camera off convincingly enough.

“It’s okay, really,” she replied. “It’s not like I’d have been able to use the story anyway, not after what happened to Roman. Too many people would have put themselves in danger if they’d seen the story- curious scientists, ambitious politicians…“

“And no-account tomb-robbers?” Nathan finished for her, and her stomach clenched a little, partially at her own harsh words tossed casually back at her and partially because Nathan had taken a step closer and smelled deliciously clean.

“That group seems to be the most capable of handling themselves, actually,” she replied. She hoped it came out sounding calmer than she felt.

“You weren’t too bad yourself, you know. I just made it up as I went,” he admitted, and gave that familiar cocky grin that melted her knees.

“I believe it,” she answered. There was another silence, and Elena realized Nathan was still holding her wrist. She glanced down, turning her hand a little, and when he did not let go she looked up at him.

Nathan bent his head and pressed his lips firmly against hers.

When he pulled back, Elena asked frankly, “You make that up as you go too?”

Nathan shrugged. She scanned his eyes, hazel and bright and waiting for her response.

She smiled. “It took you long enough.” Nathan barely had time to return the grin when Elena reached up and pulled his head back down to crush his mouth against hers. He tasted familiar; something spicy that lingered in her memory…cinnamon toothpaste, maybe? Nutmeg? Her lips parted as his tongue slid inside- definitely cinnamon. She ran her hand through his hair, which was still damp, and she groaned slightly as she remembered that she still hadn't showered. Misinterpreting her, Nathan pushed her up against the wall and skimmed his hand across the bare skin at the base of her throat, which made it all the more difficult to stop.

“What?” he asked, confused as she eased him gently away, her hand remaining flat against his chest. She fought the urge to trace her fingers along the muscles of his arms or down the plane of his stomach.

“I still need to shower, remember? I’m disgusting,” she said, and held up the towel she still clenched in her other fist.

Without batting an eye, Nathan replied, “I don’t mind taking another one.”

Elena arched an eyebrow, then pushed the towel against his chest. She turned coolly and walked towards her bathroom. Deliberately, she peeled off both tank tops at once and pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair, which tumbled down her neck. Pausing at the door to the bathroom, she looked back over her shoulder at Nathan. He looked puzzled, standing half-dressed in the doorway, and Elena shivered. She could not remember him being more appealing.

“I expect Sully won’t be back for a while,” she said in a low voice, “which is good since I don’t want any interruptions this time, but just in case-“ she reached back to unhook her bra as she entered the bathroom, “-lock the door behind you.”

Nathan smiled, shook his head, and complied.
 
G

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Hi there! I stumbled across this contest looking for news on Uncharted 2 (can't get enough!), and I'm sad to say that I've already missed two opportunities to win a beta code and I was completely bummed! However, this gives me renewed hope because writing fanfiction is a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine. I'm a HUGE Uncharted fan. I enjoyed the first game so incredibly much and I loved all of the characters. I seriously can't wait for Among Thieves! So, I hope this keeps you entertained for at least a little while. I had fun writing it.

I uploaded the story to my google documents... because I wasn't sure if the whole thing would fit if I just pasted it here.

Thanks for the opportunity and for the awesome contest!

Here's the link to my story:
http://docs.google.com/View?id=dds4bm7c_191fc7fjjf8

And my email address: ladyofrohan87@gmail.com

 

Marcus Yam

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Good entries, the two of you! So far you're leading the pack :)

Also, I believe multiple entries are allowed, but you can still only win one key. It might improve your chances of winning though, but obviously this is about quality and not quantity.

Keep at it, everyone!
 

KT_WASP

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I never played the game and have no clue about how the story/plot goes. I don't have a PS3 either,so the prize is not appealing to me in the least. But, I would like to say that I do enjoy a good story, even short stories.

grab_bag, that was a good bit of writing there, I enjoyed it! bravo!
 

WheelsOfConfusion

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Drake's Fortune: Repercussions of Gold
Nathan Drake waited. The lights above him blinked and sparked out of the air. There were fortunes in the base. He didn't see them, but had expected them now for years. His warnings to Gabriel Roman were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway.
...
Elena said "No, Nate. You are the fortunes"
And then Nate was a zombie.
 

homnibus

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“Move on! Quickly… quietly. Stay low to the ground.” Eichel motioned toward the doorway with the barrel of his MP 40. He couldn’t see their eyes in the inky shadows of the gallery, but he knew that Koch and Farber were scared shitless. So was he. But, then was not the time to surrender to fear. The verflucht… creatures were coming. They had to move on. Quickly.
“What about Dr. Heydrich?” A staccato whisper trembled in the darkness a few feet ahead.
“Heydrich’s dead. So are the others. We will be too if you don’t get on your feet. Move out before they….”
An ear-drum shattering howl bellowed from the tunnel behind them. Corporal Eichel instinctively crouched toward the deck and twisted his head around in time to catch a glimpse of skittering movement at the far end of the passage. The darkness was chopped into regular intervals of black and red by rotating pulses of light from the emergency beacons mounted overhead as they rhythmically counted out the swiftly fading heart beat of the besieged bunker.
One pulse: a scarlet-hued crescent of light swept across the enraged face of one of the creatures. Its eyes lolled wildly about, tracing invisible patterns around its head, searching.
Darkness.
Second pulse: the creature was closer, sniffing at the air, dragging nails along the concrete walls. Others… many others lurked behind it in the shadows, pawing at the deck, ready.
Darkness.
Third pulse: they’d closed the distance. Eerie, iridescent pale skin stretched over yawing mouths, limbs flailed high and low shredded with muscle and sinew.
Realization spread slowly across Eichel’s frozen consciousness like melted butter over strudel. Run.
“Run!”
Eichel jumped up onto his feet and darted forward toward the darkness of the doorway that led into the mess hall. Crossing the threshold, he immediately slammed into Farber who was blocking the passage, frozen with fear. They tumbled together into a heap on the floor. Koch screamed at them from up ahead. “Come on! Hurry! They are gaining!”
Eichel grabbed the handle of the armored door and pulled himself up. He caught hold of Farber’s sleeve and yanked him up to his feet. Farber’s gun had clattered off into the darkness when Eichel had plowed into him. There wasn’t any time to search for it. “Keep moving! I’ll try to hold them.” Then to Koch who had sprinted ahead to the far end of the mess hall, “Head toward the docks and hurry!”
Koch disappeared into the darkness beyond the mess hall. Farber ran to catch him but slipped in a puddle of grease that had been splattered across the tiles during the earlier skirmish with the creatures hours before. Eichel didn’t have the time to help him up. The creatures were on them now.
The MP 40 spit out a parade of bullets and fire into the dark gallery leading back toward the barracks. One of the creatures screamed as a bullet tore through its throat. Blood sprayed a wide arc across the hallway as the beast’s momentum threw it onto its belly and forced it into a slide up to Eichel’s boots. He leaned over and planted the gun’s barrel against the hairless scalp and pulled the trigger. Another half dozen of the wretches raced in Eichel’s direction.
“Breathe. Focus. Aim.” He whispered the mantra to himself to muster a degree of reassurance.
“Kill.” He pulled the trigger. Click. Nothing.
“Christ! I’m jammed! Koch, I’m inbound!” He screamed toward the exit at the other end of the mess hall behind him as he turned to run. Farber had recovered and made it out of the room, Eichel noted with relief (They’d need every warm body they could find to fend off the attack, even someone young and shaky like Farber.). He nearly slipped in the same gooey mess that had felled the newbie a few moments earlier, but caught himself on a nearby pushcart before almost sliding off of his feet. It wasn’t a puddle of grease like he’d originally thought. He left a trail of coagulated blood boot prints in his wake as he rounded the corner and sprinted toward the exit he knew would deliver him to the dock.
He heard the abominations crash and scream as they slipped in the bloody slick behind him. The tunnel ahead was longer and darker than he’d remembered. Perhaps the rush of fear and adrenalin was twisting his senses. No such luck. The tunnel was darker because the exit was sealed.
“Scharfuhrer!” Koch hissed at him from an unseen position to his left in the inky black. He froze. A hand emerged, yanked at his shirt sleeve and tugged him toward the voice. “In here!”
Eichel shuffled into an unfamiliar space. Behind him a heavy door slammed shut. Farber jumped up and bolted the lock and began shifting a large metal cabinet over to the doorway to use as a barricade. “Help me! They’re coming! I can hear them!”
Koch ran to the other side of the cabinet, grunted and leaned against the bulky box as Farber steered it into position against the door. The heavy impact of one or several of the maniacal terrors in the passageway outside shook the door against its frame with a loud thud. The barricade would hold them off… for now.
Eichel remained seated on the floor, stared down at his boots and tried in vain to regain control of his breathing while Farber and Koch fretted and whined as the door absorbed blow after heavy blow from the gaggle of nightmares congregating outside.
“What are we going to do? We can’t go back out there. They’ll kill us for sure.” Koch was steadier than Farber, but he still reeked of fear. Farber stared at the wall beyond where Eichel was positioned on the floor. He was stunned. The trauma of the last twelve hours was fraying the ends of his will to survive. Eichel had witnessed a similar look on the faces of his comrades in the Afrikakorps in Tunisia as the Allies pinned them in and sent them running back into Egypt. There is a point in combat where a soldier’s nerve for fighting begins to numb, where the tide rising against him seduces him to give himself up to oblivion. Such a moment was upon these young men now as they sat trapped like rodents in a tiny box awaiting the inevitable triumph of the Hell beasts beyond the door. Eichel had to regain control.
“This place… it is Sturmbannführer Blau’s office, yes?”
Farber continued to stare at the wall, but he nodded his head in agreement; their unit leader’s command post indeed flanked the final entryway to the docks. Koch looked around him then walked over to a desk near the far wall. He opened several of the drawers and shuffled through papers and items that he found in each. “Ah ha!” he exclaimed, as he clicked a button and shined a bright beam from a flash light he’d found buried beneath a mound of requisition forms.
Eichel pushed himself up from the floor and staggered over to the desk. “Let’s see the light, Koch.” The Shooter reluctantly surrendered the torch into the grizzled hands of his squad leader and stepped back from the desk. The pounding and scratching at the door and exterior walls continued as Eicher rummaged through the rest of the desk and an adjacent filing cabinet searching for a weapon and ammunition to replace the MP40 he’d lost in the mess hall. There was nothing but jumbles of forms, supply journals and a half empty tobacco pouch. Eicher slid two fingers into the pouch and retrieved a cigarette that had already been rolled.
“Matches?” He turned the light onto Koch who shrugged his shoulders then over to Farber. The light seemed to jolt him from his daze. He shivered and then jammed his hands into various pockets in his coat and trousers. “Yes, Scharfuhrer. I have a matchbook.”
“Dierk will do. No need for formalities in this situation. I’d like for someone to actually speak aloud the name my mother gave me before we challenge Death again.”
“Dierk….” Koch tumbled the sound of his leader’s name around in his mouth. “What are they? Those things. What is happening here?”
Eicher struck the match against the threaded spine of one of the journals stacked atop Blau’s desk and raised it to light the cigarette. He sucked on the burning tobacco for a moment and rolled some thoughts around in his head before he replied. “It is just possible that the answer to that question is also the reason why we are all here in this jungle hell instead of with the Waffen-SS back in Berlin.”
Farber moved near the desk and leaned back against the wall. “I thought we were here for the city of gold… El Dorado. What do you mean, Scharfuhr… um, Dierk?”
“I mean precisely what I say. This adventure on the island… this expedition… yes, it is an archaeological survey, as they told us. Of course, exactly what we are looking for… that’s not information for the likes of military men like ourselves. But, still… I have heard talking about mysterious items… magical idols of gold or some such nonsense. A new weapon to unleash on the British and Americans.”
“El Dorado.” Koch interrupted. “That is not a mystery, at least not to me. We search for the gold. I have heard that we are very near the city right now.”
Farber pushed himself away from the wall. “Where is it then? Why do we prattle about in the caverns instead of trekking through the bush for the city?”
“’Where…?’ ‘Where?’ is not the right question, Farber. You should be asking ‘what?’ or even better yet, ‘Why?’” Eicher tossed his cigarette to the floor and twisted a boot heel to snuff out the cherry. He waited for a reaction, but his pause was interrupted by something even more terrifying than the cacophony of banging and clatter in the gallery outside their commander’s office… a new and horrific sound: silence.
“Have they left then?” Farber looked back and forth between Eicher and Koch for some good news, but his squad leader’s expression lacked the optimism he’d hoped to find on his face.
Koch stood frozen, his head cocked to one side, listening. “They’re waiting. I can hear one of them… breathing… but just slightly… wheezing. I think it must be wounded.”
“Waiting? For what? Why are they waiting?” Farber was nearing the threshold of his toleration for surprises.
“Shhhh! Koch’s right.” Eicher held a finger to his lips momentarily as he whispered, but dropped it to his side when he realized that he couldn’t be seen in the darkness; he had reflexively clicked the flashlight off when Koch had spoken up. “Perhaps they mean to trick us. They may be more intelligent than I had wanted to believe.”
“Helmut… please.” Koch whispered. “I wouldn’t mind hearing my own name right now either.”
“Very well. We are Dietz, Helmut, and Karl. Three little German pigs trapped by big bad demon wolves outside of our house. Let’s hope it’s built of brick instead of straw or sticks, yes?”
“I might know a way out.”
Farber and Eichel turned toward Koch’s voice. Eichel clicked the flashlight and shone it at Koch who was pointing to the ceiling. “Up above. There is a vent. I hear a faint echo of voices… just barely… and something else now as well…. It’s… a claxon!” He dropped his gaze and stared into Eichel’s eyes. All three men spoke the words simultaneously. “Das boot!”
Eichel: “Survivors… and they mean to escape. Helmut! Quickly! Test the grate. Can we maneuver through the vent to the dock?”
Eichel pulled the chair from Blau’s desk over toward where Koch stood beneath the vent. “Up! Hurry!”
The scraping of the chair legs along the floor tiles renewed the hellish assault outside the office door with more urgency this time… or so it seemed.
Koch climbed aloft and fumbled with the vent grate. “It’s in there good. Give me something to pry at the screws.”
“Farber! Behind you… that butter knife. Schnell!”
Farber passed the knife up to Koch but flinched at the sound of a massive pounding that splintered the doorjamb.
“You cut me, you arse!” Koch’s hand dripped with fresh blood. Eichel yanked him from the chair, grabbed the knife from Farber and resumed the attack on the vent. With some loud grunting and strenuous prying, he was able to loosen one side of the grate. He forced his finger tips into the small space and yanked downward with strength he didn’t know he could still muster. The grate fell down to the floor with a clatter.
Eichel jumped down and forced Farber up onto the chair in his place. “Climb, you fool! Up into the vent. Now!” He boosted Farber up with his hands and narrowly avoided a boot to the face as Farber flailed as he struggled to pull himself up into the cramped overhead space.
“You’re next, Helmut!” Koch briefly looked into his squad leader’s eyes as he climbed up onto the chair. “Take this with you.” He pulled a small notebook from his pocket and forced it into Koch’s jacket pocket without explanation. “Now, up!” Eicher yelled.
Once Koch had managed to drag his legs up through the duct opening he tried to turn around to assist Eichel. It was impossible. The space was far too narrow to allow a grown man to maneuver his body in any great measure. The only movement would have to be forward. Farber was already several meters ahead of him in the tube, crawling toward the light and the claxon alarm that echoed now loudly through the metal air shaft.
“Scharfuhrer Eichel! Dierk!” Koch twisted moved his head down and yelled into the space behind him. “Can you pull yourself up?”
Eichel had tried, but the height of the ceiling along with the narrowness of the vent opening made it impossible to hoist himself up without assistance from below or above.
“Toss your gun back, Helmut! I will hold them while you crawl to the dock. Hurry! They are coming through!”
“Koch spread his knees as far apart as the duct walls to open a clear passage for the gun, then shoved the heavy weapon back through the clearance toward the open vent behind him. He heard the gun fall to the floor below. Mere seconds later, a loud burst of gunfire erupted from the room beneath him.
“Eichel!”
Up ahead, Farber had reached the end of the vent shaft at the dock. He beat at the grate with the butt of his MP40 until it gave way then tumbled through the opening into the light. Koch followed after as quickly as he could through the cramped tunnel. Farber waited below as he popped his head through the opening and peered out onto the dock. The U-boat had loosened its moorings and was pulling away from the dock, but a lookout posted on the conning tower saw the men and yelled something unintelligible into the decks below him. The submarine slowed. They were going to wait for the men!
Behind them, gunfire still punctuated the cacophony of moans and howls streaming through the vent shaft. Koch looked behind him once as he ran toward the U-boat. By the time he reached the water’s edge the gunfire had stopped. Farber leapt ahead of him into the water and swam toward the submarine. Koch jumped in after him and swam as quickly as he could manage.
By the time the junior soldiers had reached the boat and were pulled up onto the hull, the creatures could be seen streaming out of the vent shaft in droves. Some crashed to deck below and tumbled into the water where they sank and disappeared. Others jumped and slashed at the air, howling in rage at the escaping U-boat.
“Quickly! Inside and down below! The skipper plans to dive immediately!” The lookout hollered from the conning tower.
Farber and Koch didn’t hesitate. As fast as they could, they dropped down into the submarine, dropped down onto the deck in exhaustion and rested against an aft bulkhead as the boat’s crew engaged the diesels and surged the vessel out of the dock and into the bay.
Koch awoke several hours later lying stretched out on a mess deck table. The skipped sat nearby flipping through the small notebook Eichel had jammed into his pockets before sending him up into the ductworks.
“How exactly did a Sturmmann and an Oberschütze come across the outpost commander’s private journal? Hmmm?” The skipper bored holes into him with his questioning, unblinking gaze.
“It was Eichel… erm, our Company Leader, Scharführer Eichel gave this to me to before he….” The word stuck in Koch’s throat. The man had sacrificed himself.
“Very interesting fiction, I’d say.”
“No, sir. It’s the truth. I don’t even know what is in the damned journal.”
“I don’t doubt it. I wasn’t talking about your story. I was referring to the journal itself.”
“Sir?”
“Don’t you worry about it. Rest. You’ll need it where we are headed.”
“Sir?”
“Into the jungle, one day’s journey south of here, on the mainland. It seems our commander ignored a treasure trove in the El Dorado ruins when he and Dr Heydrich were searching for the statue. They won’t be needing it anymore I should think.”
The captain rose to his feet, closed the notebook and dropped it into his shirt pocket. “He didn’t believe in the curse. None of them did, except for Himmler. I guess they won’t be getting their hands on it now. Good thing for the Allies. Good thing for Germany as well, if you ask me. Can you imagine all of England and America populated with those… demons?”
“That’s why we were brought here? …To recover a curse to use against the Americans?”
“Well, perhaps that’s why Heydrich and Blau came. Not me though. I came for the gold. Now rest.”
Koch watched as the skipped exited the mess deck then he lay back down and drifted back into the darkness of fatigue.
“Wake up, Helmut!” Farber shook him furiously rousing him back into consciousness.
“What? What is it?”
Before Farber could answer, the world fell over on its side and both men flew backward against a steel bulkhead. The sound of metal grinding against rock punched into their ears. The sub rolled gently back and forward on its crushed port side before finally swinging heavily back onto its keel, sending the Waffen men flying again toward the deck.
“What is happening?” Koch yelled. Farber didn’t answer. He lay motionless on the deck, knocked unconscious by the last collision. Koch squatted beside the other soldier.
And then the demon howling and hellish moaning began again, somewhere in the forward decks. Sailors screaming as they were pummeled and torn apart. Gun shots. Yelling. And then, silence. Koch cocked his ear into the air and listened. He whispered “I can hear them breathing.” He laid his hand gently onto Farber’s forehead. “They’re coming.”
 
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The contest has ended now, correct? Any word on when results will be posted? :)
 

Marcus Yam

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[citation][nom]LadyofRohan[/nom]The contest has ended now, correct? Any word on when results will be posted?[/citation]
Most certainly. Apologies for the delay in the postings, but I was out of the office yesterday and strapped to a dentist's chair. Stay tuned. :)
 
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