Deroel pushed open the door to his home in Thelsamar, and put down the newspaper on the table. He unfastened his hood, cloak and took off is boots and jacket. Going downstairs, he threw a few logs onto the fire and slipped a board of cheese off the shelf. He took these back upstairs, where he sat down at the table. His knife slid through the cheese noiselessly; he picked the piece up and put it into his mouth. Then he began to read.
“Ah, the story winners… Out at last, I see,” Deroel muttered in Dwarvish, “Let’s see who won.”
Quickly scanning the page, Deroel found an entry on himself! In the post, that was good.
He read the entry about his own work. Several words sprung into his mind:
“Bah, should never have left that guild. I need a flagon of ale…”

((Just something I thought I'd write after the story contest. I realised that Dedrik hadn't regiestered, which would have an effect. But then, I left the guild just after an incident in which Explorers' Association fell to pieces. Maybe, just maybe, I might have done better if I hadn't regiestered leaving so quickly.))