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Old 23-03-11, 23:29   #1
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Arrow Tomb Raider Fanfiction Competition #12: Entries



Write a story revealing Lara's treacherous trek through the Himalayas. This adventure is listed in both biographies of Lara, however, the ages differ. In one, Lara is 9 years old. In the other, she is 21. Which Biography you use is your choice. How did she live through the plane crash? What about this disaster turned Lara into the hardened adventurer she is today? What gave her the will to survive?



- Must follow through to the theme. How you use it is your choice.
- Suggested Word Limit: 100-5000
- Use Proper Spelling and Grammar.
- The entry must be original. Do not plagiarize.
- Only one official entry per person.
- All entries must be posted in this thread by the deadline.
- Every person must vote in the voting thread, or they will be disqualified.
- The winner of the competition must host the next!

Deadline: May 1, 2011 (9PM GMT)

Fanfic Competition #1, Voting, and Results

Fanfic Competition #2: Tomb Raider Levels, Voting, and Results

Fanfic Competition #3: Without Warning..., Voting, and Results

Fanfic Competition #4: Lara at Home, Voting, and Results

Fanfic Competition #5: Unlikely Situations, Voting, and Results

Fanfic Competition #6: Pick Your Poison, Voting, and Results

Fanfic Competition #7: The Sun, Voting, and Results

Fanfic Competition #8: Unsung Heroes and Voting and result

Fanfic Competition #9: Deep-Sea Drama, Voting, and Results

Fanfiction Competition #10: Holidays, Voting, and Results

Fanfiction Competition #11: Friend or Foe, Voting and Results[/QUOTE]

If you plan on participating, please say so in this thread.

Last edited by skylark1121; 23-03-11 at 23:53.
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Old 23-03-11, 23:35   #2
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As I already told you, good theme . I'm gonna definitely try and enter. I usually do better coming up with stories with someone else's themes . Just have to choose which bio to follow. hmm....
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Old 23-03-11, 23:42   #3
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This is a great theme! We can show 'em how it's done!
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Old 25-03-11, 10:47   #4
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I'm so entering too.
Hmm wondering just how cold i'll make it?
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Old 25-03-11, 12:34   #5
the ancient
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Nice theme I hope I can enter
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Old 26-03-11, 06:26   #6
Jedd Fletcher
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Hmm, this does sound great, but I'm not sure if I want to commit to writing an entry because I'm pretty busy - still, there's a month yet to think about it.
"Death by irony is always painful." - Lara Croft, Legend
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Old 28-03-11, 18:31   #7
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Tomb Raider:
The First Step

February 21st 1989
Wind battered against my face. I remember waking to a vicious scene; metal shards and fuselage littered the mountainside below, lining the cliffs like a deadly spike pit. The most terrifying part: I was dangling, shaking back and forth in the wind over this deadly drop, only my snagged jean keeping me from certain death. I panicked for a moment, trying to move, but I was frozen so hard that my body refused to react. I was trapped, hanging hundreds of feet in the air, only the chill wisp of the wind to comfort me.

It was at that moment that I remembered how I had got there. The struggle before the crash, and the price I had paid just minutes before. I wasn't always a traveller. In fact, I had barely set foot out of my own front door before that day (and a big front door it was!) I had just hit twenty one when my world came crumbling down around me, in more ways than one. Yet, that is the common price we must pay to see what our lives truly have in store for us.

February 20th 1989

On the eve of our flight, I had packed a plethora of "necessary" items (or at least that's what I told my mother) into my suitcase. It had been a standard trip- skiing was a perfect release, I always felt invigorated afterwards. It was after all, the only dangerous sport I was allowed to take part in; my years of private education had been plagued by written notes excusing me from girls rugby. The ski trip had also been host to a rather awkward moment between my family and I, in regards to my "chosen" suitor.
"He will make a fine husband Lara." Mrs Hensingly Croft (as she so dubiously liked to be called.) pointed out. The man she referred to was the esteemed Earl of Farrington, or "crusty", as I had nicknamed him, with good reason.
"Husband." I muttered, before clamping my case shut and forcing it through the narrow lodge doorway. My mother was blissfully unaware, or pretended to be as such, of the boy watching from across the way, his thick black hair fluttered as he unclipped his orange ski goggles, and padded towards me.
"Lara!" Cried Shaun.
"I will see you soon, right?" His blissful American charm almost made me blush, but I stood firm.
"I'm sorry Shaun, I barely come here." I sulked past him, before he stopped me and helped with my luggage.
"Then I'll come to you." He blurted. My mother walked beside, an ever growing frown plastered across her face. I blushed even harder. I had never been one for romantic clichés or summer (or in this case winter) romances, but perhaps that was just down to my "stiff upper lip." It hadn't occurred to me at the time that Shaun was being deadly serious.

February 21st 1989
I snapped back to life, the past was done, and I was on the edge of a knife, slowly teetering off. I clenched my hands repeatedly, feeling finally returning to my fingertips. A burst of wind forced some shrapnel past my face, I yelped as it almost took my ear off. Realising that burst could have torn me from the dangerous position, I forced myself upwards and tried to grab the plane's edge. I had been a keen gymnast at school, but being able to climb up in such an awkward position, in freezing temperatures, is next to impossible. With one final thrust, I grabbed the edge, but my leg was still snagged, and could have broken with a single wrong move. Pain soared through me, but at least I was able to feel it.

I kicked and wriggled, trying to pry my loose jean free, until I heard a deep rumble. I stopped. The rushing wind was replaced with the sound of screeching metal, sparks soared from above me, and a sudden realisation hit me. I was attached to the plane's wing, but the wing was not attached to the plane. The metal segment unhinged from the cliff ledge, scraping down the cliff with me still attached to it. I screamed, before tearing my leg free with one harsh kick. I felt a painful snap, but pushed away from the wing, hurtling myself towards the deadly spikes below. The wing followed, barely passing my head as I thumped into the thick snow, my body being thrown around like a rag doll. My vision blurred as metal and snow rushed around me, and I blacked out.

February 20th 1989
"We can't just up and leave!" I protested, slightly giggling at the idea. Shaun grabbed my arm and gently pulled me around the side of the airport door.
"You can come with me, back home. My family are great, they'll love you to bits Lara." The idea of a loving family was almost alien to me. The closest I'd ever been to someone was to my aunt's corgi, and that vicious blighter bit me on every possible occasion. When I was at the Croft estate I had felt shackled. I had everything a girl my age could want, but I wanted none of it.
"I'm in." I smirked. At the time, I was incredibly proud of myself, I had barely made a decision regarding my future; even old crusty was picked out for me: We had "met" at one of my parent's affairs. It had been a smoky cocktail party where politics and finance were on the agenda, something I would now consider to have been ripped straight out of the nineteen twenties; It was hardly a romantic encounter. But being here, with this reckless yet charming boy. I loved it.

February 21st 1989
I could barely open my eyes when the world suddenly became apparent again. I could feel the layers of ice blistering my body and face, the cold was painful, more so than the ache I felt in my leg. I pulled myself from the deep snow, and saw the remains of the plane wing scattered before me. It was at this moment when I truly felt the scale of what had happened, and a sudden realisation hit me. Was I the only one left?

I trudged my way through the snow, back up the mountain. It was dangerous, and I was injured and at death's door, but I had to know if anyone survived; if he survived. The storm had done more damage than I thought, craters of rock littered the mountain, the plane scattered into a million pieces. It was a treacherous place, and I feared for the worst.
My search would not last long. I scoured the wreckage, constantly aware of the dropping temperature. It was getting late, and I had already been in the cold past my due. Unfortunately, my all encompassing education had not included such basic needs as survival; it was probably assumed that we'd never be too far from a helpful butler. I came to a halt in the snow. Underneath a thick pile of metal, I heard a faint yell. Hope flooded through me.

February 14th 1989
"So you're the birthday girl huh?" The boy asked, his hand shaking with a fruity cocktail raised in it.
"uh huh." I replied, growing wearily tired of advances from sleazy men. I turned to the lodge bar.
"One Martini, please." I signalled the waiter. The boy pushed in and placed the cocktail on the bar in front of me.
"That'd be a waste of a perfectly good cocktail don't you think?" he said, his nerves slowly calming, despite the harsh rejection. The boy was beginning to irk me, he was good looking, slightly charming and well dressed, but he was simply not for me. Besides, I was set for life. It was at that point when my mother charged into action. She painfully jerked my arm, and dragged me away from the bar.
"Goodbye." She sarcastically snapped at the boy.
"Lara, what do you think you're doing? Flirting with this child! You have a fiancée!" My mother's words cut through me. How dare she control me like this? I almost lashed out, but instead calmly replied:
"He looks older than father was when you married." I yanked my arm loose and hastily made towards the boy.
"Well? How about that drink?" I asked, to be met by a gaping smile from him, and a devilish stare from my mother. The boy passed me the drink.
"Name's Shaun, by the way." He smiled, and stared deeply into my eyes. I looked away, suddenly embarrassed, for a reason I couldn't even comprehend.
"Lara. A pleasure."

February 21st 1989
I clawed at the metal and snow, desperately fighting my way to Shaun. I cried his name, and began to panic as his screaming grew quieter. The sky began to darken, and I heard a fierce crackle of lightning in the distance. It didn't matter. Only Shaun mattered. I forced the metal panel free, desperately gasping for breath; I was weak from the snow, and from years of coddling. The panel slid down the cliff, Shaun laying half buried in ice where it had been. He was covered in blood. I grabbed him and pulled him towards me, almost about to cry with relief at finding him.
My relief was short lived. Shaun wheezed as I slowly released him. His body was battered, bruises covered his visible skin and I spotted a bone jutting from his side.
"Christ!" I gasped. He coughed faintly, then smiled. I stared at him in disbelief. He would never make it down the mountain. Would I even?
"Lara?" He gasped, and clenched my hand. A tear slid down my cheek.
"Be strong, promise?" He gurgled, and sputtered blood. It made me sick, and my heart broke. He gasped for air, his chest pounding, before suddenly going silent. He was dead. I sat, for a long time, staring at the man I had met such a short time before, yet had changed my life so much. I almost gave up, I could have stayed with him, I had nothing of him otherwise; no photographs, no keepsakes, not even a surname. But his words rung through my head. I had to be strong.

I fought my way down the mountainside. It took all of my strength and courage to keep on, to not just give up and collapse in the deep snow as Shaun had. I gathered as much as I could from the wreckage, and kept to the caves at night. It was tough, and brutal, but I travelled for weeks to find a way from that hellish place.

February 20th 1989
It was almost midnight when our plane left. I got word from one of the flight attendants that my mother had received my coarsely written note and headed straight back to Croft Manor, no doubt to gather the brigade, I thought.

Shaun fidgeted in his seat during departure, I stared at him joyfully the entire time. He talked of plans; of his impending promotion at his nine to five job, of renting a house, and of course, marriage. We hadn't really planned ahead, thought of visas and whether our short relationship would last, but in those few moments, it didn't matter. All that mattered was us. I turned to Shaun.
"I love you." It was the first, and only time I would ever utter those words. Would that have been taken as a sign of weakness? Probably, but at the time I was blinded, I was vulnerable, and I was just minutes away from learning just how quickly and painfully love can be taken away from you.

March 28th 2011
So it comes down to my life at present. I'm a solitary woman. I seek answers in myths which have spanned legends, and lead to fearsome rumours. Almost every day I seek to climb back up that knife and teeter on the top. It is the way I choose to live, and it is through this choice that I can find comfort. I have been rejected since I was a child, through fate I have been pushed down and forced into a mediocre existence. Fate however, is a difficult word to throw around; Did fate push me through that impossible ordeal? Did fate decide that my family would cut all ties with me? Did fate take away the only person I have ever loved? Maybe. But I know one thing: now, I choose my own fate.

Last edited by Dia2blo; 24-04-11 at 16:04.
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Old 31-03-11, 14:29   #8
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By Jedd Jong


It was the most horrific thing her nine-year-old eyes had ever seen. Cold, alone and frightened, Lara Croft curled into a ball in a corner of the abandoned Buddhist monastery hidden deep in the Himalayas – the large stone dais in the centre of the room, its presence nothing but ominous.

It had been very much for her to take in – the sheltered young aristocrat, surviving a brutal plane crash, trekking on foot to shelter with her mother – and then losing her shortly afterwards. Lara couldn’t make sense of it all – her age was no question, she was sure she would be as hurt were she 19, 39 or 49. Lady Amelia Croft was gone – and it was Lara’s fault, and Lara’s alone.

Lara looked through her sketchbook – drawings of yetis, mythical creatures and monsters next to simple but heartfelt sketches of her and her parents – Lord Richard Croft and Lady Amelia Croft were respected members of high society, but first and foremost, they were father and mother to little Lara Croft. Now she only had her dad left. She steeled herself, knowing that it would be a long trek to Kathmandu, the nearest semblance of civilisation. There, she would contact her father, who would take her home, and all this would be behind her.

“Hey, it’s alright to cry,” a voice said. Lara jumped, startled. She looked around her for the source of the voice – there was nobody, and she was sitting in a corner of the dais room. She turned around – and there was a shadow of a man, a shadow, embedded within in the rock, but moving and speaking as if he was surrounded by air. Lara was puzzled and frightened. The man was tall, dark-skinned, wore a neatly trimmed beard and was clad in a Kasaya - the traditional robes of Bhikkhu, Bhuddist monks. However, the robe was a shimmering white instead of the traditional red or yellow.

The man smiled warmly – a warmth that was certainly not of this earth, a warmth that comforted Lara even though she didn’t know who or what this man was. He stepped forward, as if walking out of the rock and into the room with Lara. She stumbled backwards. “It’s okay,” he continued. He kneeled down and embraced Lara – Lara didn’t expect that he was as much flesh and bone as she was.

“What...how...” she questioned haltingly.

“Don’t think too hard about it, Lara Croft. Come, sit down,” he motioned to her as he waved his hand over the stone floor – a small rug appeared. He took his seat, cross-legged, and Lara nervously joined him. “Some tea?” he asked. Before Lara could answer, two cups of cha süma materialised before them. He took a sip, and Lara followed his lead.

“Oh...it’s foul!” Lara exclaimed. The man chuckled, and immediately she felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“Oh, it’s an acquired taste, I understand. Tea leaves, yak butter, and salt. But, nothing more comforting in the middle of a harsh Tibetian winter – and there are no winters here that aren’t harsh.”

Lara giggled, immediately feeling more relaxed. “Okay, I’ll give it a shot,” she said as she took another sip with trepidation, trying to suppress a squirm. The man laughed heartily. Lara then asked the question she’d been waiting what felt like forever to ask: “Who...who are you?”

“It’s hard to say,” he shrugged. “I’ve been sent to keep you company for a while.”

“Are you...an angel?” Lara asked him.

“Oh, we’ve been called that,” he smiled understandingly. “But it’s more complicated than that – I personally don’t like to be pigeonholed. I’m not a Buddhist...’angel’. Not a Christian one, or a Muslim one either – doesn’t matter now, I’m not getting into that debate. Whatever you think, whoever you are, and whatever you believe – it’s our job to come in at times like this, and just...just sit with you for a while.”

“I...I’m afraid I don’t quite...”

“Nothing to be afraid of. How about we say...I’m just a force of good.”

“A force of good...” Lara repeated.

“Let’s face it, there isn’t much good left in this world – sometimes, you have to look beyond to find it. I’ve seen your life, Lara Croft. Your whole life.”

“What do you mean, my whole life?” Lara asked, curious. “I’m only nine.”

He chuckled yet again – it seemed like a habit of his. “Yes, that indeed you are. You see, we transcend time, space, dimensions, realities...universes even. We see all and know all. Yes, even you kissing Jason Eiling in the corridor at recess.”

Lara gasped – “how did you-“

The man raised a finger in gentle rebuke. “Try not to process it too much – the time when you need to will come, sooner than you want it to. I’ve seen who you become, Lara. I’ve seen the hardship you’ve – you will face. The evil you will conquer. The treasures you will find. The history you will make. I’m here to help you take that first step – you can’t count on us all the time, otherwise there’s no use for your own strength.” He playfully prodded Lara’s tummy with his finger. “I’m here to give you a jumpstart.”

“But my mother...if you can do all these things...why didn’t you...” Lara began to choke up.

“Things take their course, Lara – and while I always, always want to jump out and change things, I can’t. There are rules, even for us. We step back, and watch how things pan out – and usually, they end better than you think. Sometimes, a short meeting with us is all you need to pick yourself up. What happened here, what happened to you – should never happen to any child.” He glanced away, visibly upset for a brief moment. “But you don’t have to worry Lara. You are strong – and there’s more than this that you can and will face. Much more.”

Lara blinked, unsure of what to make of this.

“Now, you must begin your journey to Kathmandu – the snow will soon return, a blizzard inevitable.”

“You can’t take me on a...magic carpet or something?” Lara pleaded with a cheeky smile.

The man returned the expression. “That would be too easy. But I will give you this –“ he reached into a weathered leather satchel and produced a small vial, which he handed to Lara. She inspected the tiny, polished container. “Drink this – and you will have strength for the journey.”

Lara looked at him, and he nodded. She downed the contents of the vial, and felt a wave of warm energy spread through her. She could do this, she could trek to the city – and she would. She was still pretty much dumbfounded. “Uh, tha-thank you.” She told the man.

“No worries, Lady Croft. Now go – the world waits.” He motioned for her to move along. A door mysteriously opened on the far side of the room, not the way which she came – a door leading outside, onto a path. She started out the door – stepped over the threshold – and glanced behind at the man. He raised his hand, benevolent – sending Lara on her way.

On her way into the world.

1192 words

(originally written for the "Supernatural" Deadline: Midnight contest running parallel, but actually more suited to this theme).
"Death by irony is always painful." - Lara Croft, Legend

Last edited by Jedd Fletcher; 31-03-11 at 15:28.
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Old 31-03-11, 15:05   #9
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I'll enter, on the last competition I have a little bit more to write but didn't manage to finish on time so this time I'll do my best. I like the theme so much!!!

Edit: Jedd Fletcer this story was really good. It makes you feel like you're there but... Lara and Rutland ?! Joking, it was still kinda weird though but nice.
Lara Croft x Monkey = L.F.E.

Last edited by LNSNHGTDS; 31-03-11 at 15:15.
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Old 31-03-11, 15:32   #10
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Originally Posted by LNSNHGTDS View Post
Edit: Jedd Fletcer this story was really good. It makes you feel like you're there but... Lara and Rutland ?! Joking, it was still kinda weird though but nice.
Thanks so much! For about three minutes I had no idea what you were talking about - and then I realised it was about the boy mentioned in passing. He's not supposed to be James Rutland; he's not supposed to be anybody really. Went and changed the name so it's less obvious.
"Death by irony is always painful." - Lara Croft, Legend
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