Contest July-August 2022 Voting and Reading Thread

The theme for our 31st seasonal short story contest, provided by @Y'ttar Scaletail , was "The Explorer's Guide to Lustria or A Brave/Foolhardy Exploration"

Please read all five stories before voting. You may vote for ONE piece.

The order of the stories was determined completely randomly. The order has no bearing on which pieces were submitted in what order.

If someone wants me to fix a typo or formatting error that slipped through the cracks. Please let me know by private message AND please post the entire story with all changes made. It's lot easier for me to copy and paste a new story rather than for me to dig through the text to find the two or three errant sentences.

Spoiler: Story One: "The Maze"

The Maze


The echo’ing laughter faded.

Ul’thar staggered to the next wall clutching his side. He checked his hand and his blood dripped down like one of the water clocks the Priests used, counting down his own life.

He shook his head. So dizzy. Wait, what had that laughter been?

He tried to get his thoughts ordered. The portal… He had led the counter-attack to the portal and then… His spawn-brothers roared their approval as he tore the cooked flesh from the animal, blood dripped-

He shook his head again. He was slipping. The steady drip of the clock counted out the rest of his life.

The black stone walls rose around him. He staggered forwards, passing dark entrances to passageways that seemed to lead to nothingness itself. How had he gotten here? He randomly chose a passage as he heard noises behind him. Wait… What was behind him? Why was he running?

He shook his head. The portal. He had to- He felt his spawn-brothers thrashing through the spawning pool near him, his lungs burned as he stretched toward the light above, he was almost there, he-

He grabbed hold of the wall, leaning up against it for support. The oppressive gloom of the passages and openings around him an almost physical silence. Then whispers. From everywhere and nowhere. Not words, but sounds. Almost words, as if he could listen intently and grasp their meaning…

He blinked and forced himself to stagger forwards. He had to move, they were coming. What? Who were coming? What had he seen?

A figure lurched out of a side-passage, it’s form indistinct but he could taste the scent of Lustria on his tongue. A brother! He stumbled forwards just as the figure stepped into a shaft of light. Ul’thar stopped dead. The other lizard’s face was almost unrecognizeable, the mouth hung open as green pus dripped from every tooth. It’s head was covered with what seemed like sores, but as he watched several of the “sores” blinked and swivelled to watch him. As the thing approached, a tentacle rising from it’s back, and a wave of hatred rose within him. Chaos had taken those he loved, pure souls and reduced them to this. He raised his blade and stepped forwards but as he did so a deep chuckle seemed to echo around him, the echo itself mirrored by faint high-pitched cackling.

The lizard-thing paused, then an unnatural vigor seemed to seize it and it lunged for him. Ul’thar knocked it to the side even as his blade lashed out to sever it’s neck. As the body slumped to the floor, he told himself it was a mercy killing. None of his spawn-brothers would have wanted to live like…

His eyes fell upon the scarred and mangled tail.

He stood back to back with Thu’Rok as the rat-men circled them. The presence of his spawn-brother comforted him as he limbered his arm in preparation for the attack. A hulking rat-beast screamed its way forwards, its huge maw snapping down at him. Rolling to the side he came to his feet as the beast latched on to Thu’Rok, dragging him backwards by his tail even as it’s frothing mouth chewed maniacally. Ul’thar roared his defiance and sprang forwards, burying his blade between the eyes of the rat-monster. The jaw remained closed in death even as the other rat-men closed in. They-

Ul’thar blinked. Leaning against the wall with one clawed hand, he rose from where he had fallen to his knees and looked down at the twisted remains of his friend.

A deeper chuckle this time. From within and without as it seemed to echo in his own mind. The sound conveying both deep malicious amusement and the roaring of a thousand, thousand fires. Barely louder than a whisper, it echoed far longer than it should have.

He squeezed his eyes shut and came fully upright. Keep moving. There had to be some way out of here.

He shambled forwards. Patches of blood marking his steps.

-

Ul’thar’s vision wavered. His hands shook as the last remains of Qui’zik still dripped from the edges of his claws. The Skink had been maddened to the point of delirium, cackling even as he had lashed out with whips that had gleamed with the unmistakeable sheen of Lustrian scale.

Even as the Skink’s hands sought to rend and tear, Ul’thar had forced the life from him. At the last Qui’zik’s eyes had reflected panic, as if in the moment before his death he had suddenly been granted enough clarity to comprehend the horror of what had befallen him. A cruel fate.

He turned his clawed hands over as they trembled. At least Chi’laq had only been battle-maddened. The image of his brothers formerly azure scales glowing a deep, burning red still haunted him, but moreso the glyph upon his forehead that had burned in glowing gold.

His cold blood seemed colder now, even as it fled his frame. Like rats abandoning a sinking ship.

He forced his mind back to the present. The visage of the corridor wavered before him, splitting into two and swirling. A wave of nausea ran through him and he bit his own tongue to keep from passing out. Only faith kept him moving forwards. Surely the Old Ones wouldn’t abandon him now.

Then an open space. In the middle, red and purple swirled in a portal large enough to take a Kroxigor. The portal! This must have been what he was searching for. Wait. He had been running FROM something. He had heard- The Slann laid the bone helmet on his head and his heart swelled with pride as he turned to his brothers and-

The floor rushed to meet him. The impact forced the remaining air from his lungs and he lay stunned. His eyelids felt as if the heavens themselves lay upon them, but he forced them open again. Using his forearms he pushed his body up to its knees.

Beside the portal sat a creature, watching him. Purple and yellow flames swirled around it’s two heads. It’s form a hideous mockery of a Skink. As he watched, one cocked to the side to watch him and the other turned to whisper in its ear.

The Skinks mouths did not move, but he heard a voice.

You have resisted longer than your brethren, lizard. The voice soothed him. Relaxed him, promising sweet release into oblivion. Why not give in? You will enjoy Change.

Ul’thar snarled, his lips drawing back into a deathlike rictus of pain. He forced himself to stand and shuffled forwards. The… thing was not blocking his way. It did not move to attack. He would not give up hope.

The Skink-thing shifted, as if getting comfortable. You have resisted all my brothers. This is… admirable.

Ul’thar drew level with the creature and tensed for the attack, knowing that he could do nothing to defend himself. The creature seemed to hear his thoughts. Oh no, my brave little one. You have earned your way through the portal. I would not stop you now.

The voice taunted him. Mocked him. He drew closer to the portal.

As he drew himself closer, the voice whispered from behind him. Such valour should be… rewarded.

He stretched out a clawed hand and touched the portal.

Light eclipsed everything even as the creatures laughter rose behind him.

-

The echo’ing laughter faded.

Ul’thar staggered to the next wall clutching his side. He checked his hand and his blood dripped down like one of the water clocks the Priests used, counting down his own life.

He shook his head. So dizzy. Wait, what had that laughter been?

As the Lizard moved on, he failed to spot identical footprints on the floor. Thousands upon thousands of bloodied imprints, interweaving and overlapping. Perhaps if you stared hard enough, concentrated hard enough, you could see the pattern.

The game would continue.

Spoiler: Story Two: "A Safe Path"

A SAFE PATH


2485, Jahrdrung, 3rd Wellentag (Nuovannaio, 3rd lavordì)

Great news! a couple of days ago we landed in a rather quiet bay, protected by a cliff. The remains of a sunken ship testified to the lack of caution in underestimating these waters during the monsoons ... but this is not the news. Near the beach we found a dead man, probably one of the officers that was trying to return to the sunken ship.
And in the backpack ... diamonds, rubies, handfuls of precious gems. And above all some maps and a diary: a real guide, the guy wrote down the whole route. Or maybe the guy didn't even write it, he had followed the diary instructions himself, and if what it says is true there is a place where there are literally thousands of gems. So many that it would take wagons to take them away, if it wasn't for the fact that you can't use wagons in this jungle.
But we all agree ... we will try to follow the diary. With caution, to test how reliable it really is.


2485, Pflugzeit, 2nd Aubentag (Araggio, 2nd gabeldì)

There are interesting news, very positive I would say. Our journey took us close to a large swampy area, infested with snakes and swarms of thumb-sized flying insects. Following the diary's instructions, we had smeared ourselves with a mixture of mud, crushed berries and rotting flowers. We smell awful and we look like we've come out of a latrine ... the diary said it would keep the bugs away. Many did not believe it but the diamonds convinced us to give it a try. Hans hadn't covered up enough. Insects sensed him. He didn't die well.
Now that the first, real indication of the diary has been proven true, we are all feeling much more confident.


2485, Sigmarzeit, 1st Konistag (Sigmarile, 1st regiodì)

The diary proved its worth once again. When the vegetation began to change, we did something we never thought we would do in this infernal jungle: to travel at night and stay hidden during the day.
And this saved us, because we saw them while we were in hiding. The masters of Lustria, the lizardmen.
Scout patrols riding... things with too many fangs and claws for my taste. "Travel by night, quitely, as they are cold-blooded, and ride in the day." And they really do. Blessed be Sigmar and this diary, maybe we have really found the way.


2485, Sigmarzeit, 3rd Festag (Sigmarile, 3rd santodì)

We saw it in the distance. A city, or perhaps a temple. The target dreamed by all explorers who come to this cursed continent. A place filled with gold, jewels and scribbled tablets for which the University of Altdorf would pay many good gold crowns.
And by Sigmar if that's true! Even from here we can see the glitter on top of those pyramids. There is only one thing that sparkles like this. How much gold do these scaly monsters have? But that is not our goal: as the diary says, it is an attractive but very dangerous place: "Beware of gold and the artifacts of lizardmen: take a gram and entire cities will hunt you. On the contrary, for them diamonds and emeralds are worthless trinkets."
Let's move on.


2485, Sommerzeit, 4th Marktag (Soluglio, 4th regiodì)

The goal is in sight. We had to lengthen the journey, to get around a large area that the diary advised to avoid, inhabited by armored herbivorous giants capable of crushing you like a nut if they think their cubs are in danger.
Anyway we are here, near the entrance of an immense valley, flanked by mountains immersed in the clouds; this is where we will find the diamonds mine. The diary suggests an approach that I would have thought insane, but everything reported has proven reliable and the fact that there are still thirty of us is proof of this. Once we enter the valley for a few kilometers we will have to move in a noisy way, making our presence evident. The place is infested with snakes, even giant ones ... and like all snakes, they are shy. As the noise approaches they will go away and the road will be clear. We will be rich.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Prologue)

Working at the light of flickering torches, the skink was bent over a series of scrolls, bound together. He slowly and meticulously continued his work, writing, designing crude landscapes, crumpling some papers and staining some others with a green and brown tick mixture. Finally he stood up, admiring satisfied the result.
A second skink was in the room, wearing the insignia of a priest of Tepok.
“Are you done?”
“Yes, it seems so. The writing of the warmbloods is something that can really drive you crazy. It’s nonsense”.
“It certalnly is. I still don’t see why the Priest of Itzl, Leader of handlers and Supervisor of warbeasts, needed the help of the god of Magic and Wisdom, to… write in the warmbloods’ tongue?”

The first skink smiled, winking like someone sharing a secret joke.
“Because, my friend, the appetite of a Dread Saurian’s female is immense, and we don’t want her to roam out of the misty valley, toward the breeding ground of the bastiladons”.
The second skink stood silent for a moment, hoping in some more revelations.
“I am not sure I understand.”
“Neither do they, my friend. Neither do they…”

Spoiler: Story 3: "Game Over"

Game over

*Older man’s voice*
“Twisting through the vast green jungle runs the river Amaxon like a turquoise snake. Endlessly bringing water to the even more endless ocean. At places wide, at places slim, at places tiring slow and at places rampaging fast, but ever flowing. Many adventurers or explorers seeing the new world upon arriving have seen the mouth of this majestic river pouring its water into the sea, but none have even the smallest clue to where its origin lay.”

*Young adult’s voice*
“None you say?”

*Older man’s voice*
“Well, almost none.
There is one little group of people that set out to resist all treads that the New World had in store for them. We find them upstream of the river in a typical vessel: one mast with one red and white striped sail, a low bottom and the sides of it adorned with colorful shields. The prow of the ship has been carved into a wolf-like head. The Longship was crewed with twenty strong warriors and oarsmen commanded by Faustus Olafson.

Originally set out from their homeland led by the fearless Gundar Packmaster, the goal of this expedition was to reach the city with streets of gold. Up to this day, day thirteen since they landed at the coast, they had not succeeded yet. Four days ago there seemed to be a breakthrough as they ventured from the river land inwards to a suspected city, only to find themselves ambushed by Amazon warriors. Six men did not make it back to the ship in time. One of which was Gundar.
Faustus was put in charge for the remainder of the expedition, or at least for as long as he would stay alive.

Standing on the little raised platform at the end of the ship Faustus oversaw his men, hardened by battle and raiding expeditions far and wide, now bleak images of themselves. The journey in this warm and humid climate had drained them to near exhaustion.
The last two days the water that they moved around in was all sorts of brown and it smelled terrible. The water reserve on deck had been dried up by daybreak. On top of it the mosquitos were everywhere, hovering above the water waiting for a bit of bear flesh to poke through. .

Faustus spotted a parting of the river and maneuvered the ship into it. The water was clearer and moving faster over here. Some of the oarsmen noticed the change of water and tried to quench their thirst. A couple of buckets on a rope were let down in the water and hoisted up quickly. Before Faustus had realized what was going on the bucket had been passed around by eight men."Spit it out! Spit it out!” he shouted at them. Two of them spat the water on the deck and a third started coughing up a mixture of water and stomach contents.
“We all are thirsty, but the water from this river is nowhere near drinkable! We will have to make land to find water safe for drinking.”

At the end of the day they made land near a ruined city along the river. From the ship buckets, barrels and five lifeless bodies were set down on the embankment. Half of the crew started chopping down a few trees near the river. Faustus took the other half of the crew and all the barrels to the ruins and found a spring welling up clear water.
Apart from birds and insects flying away in front of the passing party and the chopping of wood behind them there was no sound or movement to be concerned about.
After boarding the ship again they rowed on, leaving behind a few tree trunks and a pile of burning wood with on top the remains of their previous comrades.

The fresh water supply did last for the better part of a week. The banks showed nothing but trees and vegetation with occasionally animals breaking the canopies or the water surface.
After two days the contours of the mountains showed up above the treetops and started to grow in size with every turn of the river.
The jungle became less dense and now and then they spotted an overgrown statue of a giant snake along the river. Around a bend suddenly appeared a stone carved quay of about fifty feet in length.
Further ahead the river became narrower and eventually it split into dozens of tiny streams coming from between the trees that adorned the base of the mountains.
Faustus decided to land on the quay and prepare to venture further on foot. Every member of the crew took a shield from the side of the ship and hung an ax on their belt. A stone arch stood on the edge of the small open area in front of them behind it a path stretched through the vegetation after twenty feet it bent to the right. Just above the canopies showed the top of a large stone pyramid. Faustus led the party onto the path, assuming it would lead them to the structure.

The path curved through the jungle vegetation avoiding trees left and right. The stones, slightly overgrown, were set uneven by the passing of time. They had to watch their footing. In the middle of this part of the jungle the trees parted and the path widened leading into an oval plaza. The path entered at the oblong side of the oval and continued on the opposite side. Faustus took a couple of steps on to the open plaza and scanned the edges of the vegetation. To both sides of him five men stepped forward to watch out for incoming danger. After a minute or two of impatient waiting the ten men strode further forward to the middle ready to continue towards the start of the next path.
“Halt!” It was Faustus that shouted out over the plaza. “Do not move any further.” Faustus pointed to the edge of the plaza, there stood the same statues like the ones along the river. A loud “CLICK” sounded and a deep rumble traveled through the stones. A large circle in the center of the plaza, with eight warriors of the frontline on it, dropped about a foot. Out of the holes in the now exposed stones crawled forth hundreds of colorful snakes, taking in the surroundings with their tongues in the air they located their prey immediately and attacked rigorously.
With their shields and axes they parried as the first wave of snakes, but wave after wave they struggled to keep their body away from the vile teeth and cringing venom. It took a couple of seconds before the remaining men realized what happened before they strode forward. Faustus turned around as they did and spread his arms wide: “Don’t do it! Do not aid them in this battle that can not be won! Let us move ahead and honor their deaths by reaching our destiny.”
Although counterintuitive the men knew Faustus was right: dying in battle was the most glorious way to go.

As the fighting in the center continued with less intensity the remainder of the party moved around the circle to the other side of the plaza. There they followed the new path closer to the city ahead. After five minutes the screaming and sounds of weaponry dulled completely behind them, leaving only the basic sounds of the jungle around them.
Faustus led the party further along the path even more wary of the surroundings than before. For half an hour there was nothing but a path, trees and plants. Now and then a bird flew over causing axes to be grabbed tidier and shields to be slightly raised. In front of them the low vegetation parted and only trees were visible in both directions.
Three more turns in the path revealed a wall of the same gray overgrown stones ahead. The path itself led to an opening in the wall to what might be construed as a gatehouse, but there were no doors nor a gate, just stones formed into a large circle and behind it the streets of gold and pyramids towering over the walls.

As the party stared in awe of this beautiful sight there was a soft sound of wind blowing: “woosh, woosh.” Faustus looked around to see what source this sound could come from. As he does, two of the men at the back of the group drop to their knees and sink forwards revealing a bright feathered dart sticking out of their neck and back.
“Shields up! Behind!” Like one man the remaining five warriors turned around and lifted up their shields. The shields blocked another dart with effect.
Faustus scanned the jungle where the darts had supposedly come from but couldn’t distinguish the source of danger. So close to their goal he could not think of letting it slip through his fingers. He instructed his men: “Let’s move as one. To the gate!” All together they continued on the path holding the shields in place behind them. Six steps in and again the darts were sent, now no contact with a shield, but a dull impact sounded twice. Left and right of the party a warrior stumbled and fell aside. “Rearrange!” was Faustus’ response.
The warriors shifted and one still held his shield in the back, while the other two each moved to a side, Faustus still in front.
The city came closer, about fourteen feet in front of them, Faustus upped the pace. Ten feet… seven feet… “woosh! woosh! woosh!” several darts flew around from various directions. Most hit the shield than not. Faustus heard a body fall behind him and then a second one… two feet… the last of his crew dropped to the floor.. one feet…

As Faustus ran through the gate a flash of blue light encased him. For a second he had set foot in the city with streets of gold and just like that all around him blurred to blue. He felt his feet being lifted off the ground and his body started to turn around. The blue light slowly faded and the blurred surroundings became clear again. In front of him the river Amaxon poured its contents in the blue deep and vast ocean. His feet found the sand beneath, he dropped to his knees exhausted from his adventure and with a broken spirit for losing something he did not really found. In his head he heard a voice speak slowly: “Game over””

*Young adult’s voice*
“That’s it? That’s your story? I can hardly believe that.”

Ivar Darkmane stood up from his chair on one of the quays in the harbor of Skeggi and walked away, leaving the older man at his chair behind the table. Next to the table a cardboard was nailed to a post, on it was written by hand:

“HIRING CREW - ADVENTURE AWAITS”

Spoiler: Story Four: Extracts from ‘Life and Death in the Mortal Realms’

Extracts from ‘Life and Death in the Mortal Realms’

Life and Death in the Mortal Realms

A Study on the Flora and Fauna of the Realms

By Countess Isa Strandt​

An introduction


Life eternal loses its spark after the first century or three. When you have seen empires rise and fall, young heroes of glittering gold become faded and rusted memory, when you have supped the lifeblood of countless man, aelf, duardin (and more besides) everything becomes dull. Enough of my kind find hobbies to keep the spark going or else fall into melancholy and the erosion of mind, spirit, and body.

Some become warriors, devoting themselves to martial arts (though I have never been fond of those strutting, ego-centric, braggarts who call themselves ‘knights of the blood’, I am forced to confess devoting numerous decades to sword techniques after a less than thrilling encounter with a witch hunter with a silvered blade (the scars took almost as long to heal properly!)), others to cultivating the perfect combination of blood in a mortal through selective breeding, others take up the art of creation (blacksmithing, sewing, writing (haha), painting, etcetera), or others like myself take up travel.

Within this tome is a selection of thoughts, theories, and accounts from my travels including a list of flora and fauna from the various realms that I have visited throughout the last two and a half centuries. I have naturally included a few interesting sources and references from other scholars (some perhaps to be taken with a grain of salt compared to others) much of which was obtained from the grand libraries at Brightspear, Azyrheim, and ‘New’ Templehof (each of which were a story in themselves to gain access to!)

The curious reader may note that my subject may not have been delivered in a proper ordered way, but if anyone who still knows me would state, such things are not my forte. I will endeavour to have some element of order but sections of random thought or anecdote may worm through. Memory is a curious thing, especially for ones as old as we!

It is my hope that this tome may serve the reader well in not only the practice of travel but also garner the respect for the myriad life that exists in these worlds (something we creatures of death too easily forget or view with bitterness and spite.) The realms are filled with wonders and I am more than content to spend my unlife seeing them.




A brief introduction to the Seraphon


The lizard-daemons, the ancient scaled-ones, the children of the Old Ones, and many more names aside.

From my own encounters, there appear to be at least two main types of Seraphon that exist within the Mortal Realms. Indeed, I managed to obtain further evidence and knowledge of the so-called Starblooded and the Coalesced from my previously mentioned ‘adventure’ in Azyrheim.

Those of the Starblooded type appear to be made of the energy of Azyr (starlight if you will.) They often appear on the battlefield preceded by beams of starlight and when slain dissipate in a manner reminiscent of the Stormcast (this is why I prefer killing more mortal foes if I have to, they are less ostentatious in the manner of their deaths whilst after you’ve killed the fifth or sixth Stormcast it actually becomes very samey!)

The Starblooded Seraphon that I have encountered appear to be constructs of star energy, to the degree that they are not suitable for feeding upon. In fact, for lesser vampires the solar energy contained within their blood is liable to seriously harm or even kill. For stronger members of a more magically inclined bloodline, it might be possible to obtain more magical energy by the consumption of their vitae but only the most crazed or arrogant of our kind I would posit would consider this as a viable or sensible option.

The Coalesced meanwhile appear to be Seraphon that have traded their starlight bodies for mortal ones, becoming far deadlier and savage. I have encountered tribes of these Coalesced on numerous occasions in my travels (more so than their starbourne cousins) and their ruthless and brutal power would put even a Ghoul King to shame. They however do still bleed and die as all mortal beings do, but even so, unless one is able to pick them off one by one when faced with a moderate to large sized tribe, discretion is your greater ally.

The ranks and societies of the Seraphon are made of several branches of lizardfolk. At the top of their societies are the mysterious mage-priests commonly called the Slann. From my studies during my trip to Azyrheim, they are normally clothed in the flesh of large toad-like beings. Incapable of physical movement, they instead use their vast store of magical energy and the strange science of their gods to move upon palanquins of ancient stone and precious metals. Several accounts claim they are capable of magical feats that the most powerful sorcerer could dream of (Not to name any certain Von Carsteins, hem hem!) Typically, the Slann dwell within their star travelling vessels that exist far above the skies of the realms and it is they whom command and send forth their legions of Starblooded Seraphon. I have found little evidence of any Slann leaving these vessels permanently to dwell amongst the Coalesced. It is possible that their duties in commanding their vessels take precedence, or that no one has survived to tell of such examples.

Further down the hierarchy are the heavily scaled and strong foot soldiers of the Seraphon, often cited as being called Saurus or Sauri. Larger than most humans and very powerfully built, these creatures can rip through a regiment of mortals all too easily. From my autopsies, their brain matter is largely underdeveloped compared to other sentient races. It is likely that they exist only for battle and destruction and would be unable to easily act or comprehend in any other manner. Much of their more complex and powerful muscle structures exist around their necks, which helps to give them a terrifyingly potent bite. Typically, Saurus fight with large stone and gilded mauls, spears, shields, claws, and of course fangs. They usually lack ranged weapons, so keep them at a distance should you run afoul of any.

Like the Saurus, there exist an even larger and brutal variant in the form of what are known as Kroxigors. A comparison could be made of likening the Saurus to humans in comparison to the Kroxigors to Ogors. Though thankfully much rarer than the Saurus, the Kroxigor are brutal apex predators of their race being so utterly single minded that they can shrug of blows that would kill their smaller brethren many times over. Fortunately, their intellect appears even smaller than their Saurus kin, so it is possible for a canny adventurer to trick and avoid such foes.

The smallest of the Seraphon are the Skinks. The complete opposite of the Saurus, these creatures are tiny, nimble, and blessed with a far greater cunning and intellect. These creatures act as scouts, missile troops, and beast tamers of the Seraphon. Whilst individually they pose little threat, in greater numbers they can become a very real threat. Some even act as emissaries for their race and ironically parleying with a Skink may often be the better course of action when encountering the Seraphon.

The myriad beasts of burden and warbeasts of the Seraphon do not appear to necessarily be part of their same race apart from perhaps the deadly Cold Ones. Thusly I shall devote a separate section upon them elsewhere.




A Chance Encounter in the Gnarlwood


On my most recent journey to Ghur, I once more braved the deadly Gnarlwood after hearing tales of a great meteorite that struck the very heart of those cursed woods. For four weeks my house guard and I pierced the perilous gloom of the Gnarlwood fighting off warbands that also seemed interested in this cataclysm.

Guided by the ripples upon the winds of magic I eventually discovered the crash site, for it was no meteorite from the heavens but a strange vessel of strange stone and metal of the design of the Seraphon. Long have we heard of the flying ships of the lizardfolk that dwell in the stars but none of these tales held a Nighthaunt’s candle to the sheer scale of this star faring vessel (damaged and broken as it was by its crash.) The main intact part of the vessel was taller than many of the greatest fastnesses one could find in the realms and in length stretched for what seemed like many kilometres, and yet the Gnarlwood was already making its claim upon the ship. The trees and other flora that had been decimated by the crash had already begun to recover and assail the Seraphon vessel. In time, it would be encased and strangled by the foliage until nothing remained visible.

Finding an entranceway opened by the impact, my Castellan Bertrand led the way into the depths of the ship. Great plaques that seemed a combination of ancient magic mixed with a strange science of geometric patterns and some form of advanced mathematical equation coated the walled corridors, which despite the ship’s seeming destruction still glowed with an inner light that bathed myself and my followers with a warm blue radiance. Hither and yonder we came across deserted chambers that felt to me anything but empty. It was chilling (a surprising thing to admit even for myself) how much in the silence and desolation there felt like many cold-blooded eyes were staring into the blackened void where my soul used to be.

We had been within the fallen Seraphon vessel for nearly an hour before we were attacked by one of its unliving guardians. We were passing a vast wall carving in the design of a twin tailed serpent rendered in glittering gold and precious stones when I suddenly felt a rush of magic in the air. Moments later the caving began to twitch as solid metal and stone became sinuous as if it had become a living being. A sibilant hiss that seemed more akin to the vocal units of Kharadon automatons echoed through the chamber corridor and the serpent pulled itself from the wall. Red gem-like eyes glittered in the gloom at us and even as my house guard moved to protect me, a beam of red light shot from them, turning a handful of my guards to smouldering ash in an instant.

Several other members of my house guard charged towards it but their enchanted blades made barely a scratch upon its unnatural hide. I was not so gently seized by Bertrand (whilst his handling is much less than desired, the old bundle of bones’ judgement has always been correct, even if my own has not) and was dragged from the ship whilst more than a few of my guards bought us some time. The serpentine construct did not follow us outside of the Seraphon vessel but given the potency of its own unliving guardians I decided in the heat of the moment that a final death in such a place was not worth whatever trinkets may have existed within.

With what remained of my guards and Bertrand, we instead began the long return home. Whilst I managed to collect a few fragments of the vessel for later studying, I now fear there were treasures lurking deeper within whose power could even challenge the gods. It is my hope that the Gnarlwood swallows the ship before any of these artefacts fall into the wrong hands.

Spoiler: Story Five: "Behind the Mountain"

Behind the Mountain


"It works!" chirped skink-acoltye Poztlac as she scampered into the Temple of Tzunki one morning. Her priest-teacher, Mozl, looked up skeptically.

"Tell me you're not still working on that absurd potion, acolyte," he muttered.

"It's not a potion, it's a piranha-deterrent paste, and it works!" huffed the younger skink. "Look!"

The blue-scaled lizard held up a hand smeared with dark red mush. She darted over to one of the stone pools in the temple's courtyard, where dense schools of pink fish circled ominously. Some teachers might have tried to stop her, but Mozl only watched, his fingers weaving a flaxen rope basket.

Poztlac plunged her hand into the piranha pool. Immediately, the nearby fish fled to the furthest corners of the stone basin, huddling as far away from the pasted hand as they could.

"See! It works!"

Mozl sighed. "I suppose it does. What do you expect me to say?"

"Can't you see? This means we can enter the swamp! We can see what's on the other side!"

The older skink put down his half-finished basket.

"We've talked about this already, acolyte. It's unseemly for a lizardman to show so much excitement, especially about new things. We can see what's beyond the swamp. There's a mountain."

"But what's on the mountain? What's behind the mountain?" Poztlac insisted. "They say it's holy - there may be ancient temples, or unfathomable relics left by the Old Ones!"

"Nothing but myths and superstitions. It's just a regular mountain," Mozl replied coolly.

"We can't know until we go there! Every part of Lustria has been visited and catalogued. That mountain is the only place in the whole continent that we don't know anything about. Aren't you curious?"

"A lizardman is only curious about the Great Plan. We do not concern ourselves with unimportant mountains. There hasn't been a lizardman explorer in five thousand years!"

"Exactly!" cried Poztlac, in frustration. "Ow!"

She yanked her hand out of the water, with a piranha latched to one finger. The red paste was gone, flecked away into the pool.

"It looks like your piranha deterrent isn't waterproof," observed Mozl.

"A minor detail that I will rectify," Poztlac muttered, shaking the fish back into the pool. "And then I will cross the swamp, and explore the mountain!"

The priest sighed again. "Well it'll be a shame if you get eaten or fall down a ravine. We're a little short on acolytes at the moment. But I won't stop you."



Weeks later, Poztlac trudged back into the temple, her entire body covered in wet red paste. Once again, Priest Mozl came out to meet her.

"So you're still alive," he said, happily. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"No," wailed Poztlac. "There was nothing there. Just an empty mountain!"

"Sounds like you found it, right enough," Mozl replied, grudgingly.

"But I'm saying I found nothing!"

"You set out to explore the mountain, didn't you? Well, you explored it! You're the first lizardman in five thousand years to walk on new ground in Lustria. Quite unseemly, of course, but we'll excuse it in the name of making history."

Poztlac said nothing, but continued to look mushy and dejected.

"Praying doesn't mean receiving," the priest went on. "Testing doesn't mean proving. And exploring doesn't mean finding. The universe isn't always exciting, but it is always mysterious, and that's why the Old Ones gave us this troubling sense of curiosity that young acolytes sometimes fail to repress. So ask yourself, acolyte. Are you a treasure hunter? Or are you an explorer?"

The young skink smeared away some of the paste from under her nose. "...xplor'r," she murmured in a small voice.

"Good," replied Mozl. "Then I think you should have this."

He extracted a stone object from within his robes and passed it over to the mopey acolyte. It was a smooth disc inscribed with glyphs Poztlac didn't recognise.

"What it is it?" she asked.

"It's a path to exploring places a lot further away than that old mountain, if you're really serious about it. An 'unfathomable relic' left by the Old Ones, as you would say. Use it wisely. And remember, the best explorers know when to come home."

The priest regarded his student a few moments longer, and then turned and shuffled off into the depths of the temple. When he was gone, Poztlac looked back to the stone disc. In the middle was a circular groove, forming a button. Instinctively, the skink prodded it with a claw, leaving a little smear of red paste as she pushed it down.

There was a flash, and Poztlac was no longer in the temple. The blue sky of Lustria had been switched with the star-studded blackness of space. This inky night-scape was slowly revolving.

With mounting panic, the lizardman realised she stood on a platform embedded in a chunk of stone that was tumbling lazily through space itself. Beside her was an oval pod or vessel of some kind, its exterior metallic and shimmering. It looked just like the descriptions of the Old Ones' legendary sky ships, albeit much smaller.

Even as she looked, a panel opened up on the vessel and noises came from within. It sounded like speech, but not any language Poztlac knew.

"I don't understand," she stammered, awed and frightened.

"Language identified," replied the disembodied voice in the sky ship. "Please enter the cabin and I will begin take-off procedures."

"Where are you taking me?" Poztlac stammered again.

There was a short pause before the voice replied. It spoke only a single word, and finally Poztlac understood.

"Anywhere."

 

Story One: "The Maze" by @Lizards of Renown

Story Two: "A Safe Path" by @Killer Angel

Story Three: "Game Over" by @Imrahil

Story Four: "Extracts from ‘Life and Death in the Mortal Realms’" by @Y'ttar Scaletail

Story Five: "Behind the Mountain" by @thedarkfourth

The winner by a fairly comfortable margin is Killer Angel!

 

5 stories and 1 vote... it's going to be tough.

 

That was the previous one...

 

Time to think to some review.
It helps me immensely on how to vote.

 

My reviews:

Spoiler: Story One: The Maze

Solid story, we have a saurus (that i imagine was the commander of an expedition against chaos... the "foolhardy exploration") is the sole "survivor" of a squad of children of the old ones, all of them annihilated, twisted and mutated by the power of tzeentch. Thematically i liked the visual images of the lizardmen fallen to chaos, each one with a different mutation and each one with different ties to the protagonist, ties that are revealed through flashbacks, experienced in a sort of feverish state of mind. Very nice the image of the dripping blood that marks the passing of time.
The weak point is that probably the development of the story and its ending are (at least to me) somehow predictable, with our protagonist that is doomed to an "eternal" cycle of suffering, at least as long as he doesn't break or his torturer put an end to it. When you have only one vote, maybe you want something unique...

Spoiler: Story two: A Safe Path

This one at the beginning was kinda meh. The diary formula is a well know one, but at least this one was slightly different, as usually this kind of stories show a slow but inexcapable descent to despair and hopelessness, with the fool warmbloods that die one by one. This one, on the contrary, shows an expedition that, for once, is following a reliable sorce and the men of the Empire have a great success in excaping the usually deadly dangers of Lustria, from the enviroment to lizardmen. At the end, when the prologue is revealed to us, it all acquires a different meaning. Smart, smart skink... he really invented a new formula for "food delivery", where the food brings itself to the table. That's what i call a twist! I don't know if the smart ending is enough to make up for the otherwise typical story, but the piece is short, so we didn't waste excessive time on the journey.

Spoiler: Story three: Game Over

What i've said before, it applies also here: this one is the typical formula: a sort of exposure in diary form, show a slow but inexcapable descent to despair and hopelessness, with the fool warmbloods that die one by one. I like that we're following a search for the sources of the amaxon river, the lustrian version of the search for the Nile's sources. I liked very much the descriptions of all the places, it's imo the best part of the story, all of them were very vivid. Not a great fan of the ending, but not for the idea in itself... it's just that the phrase "game over" is an expression that broke my suspension of disbelief, as i find it rooted in our culture, rather the the popular culture of the old world. And devil lies in the details, when you have only one vote

Spoiler: Story four: Extracts from ‘Life and Death in the Mortal Realms’

this one is the most "scientific" of all out stories. that vampire was really a explorer and a lover of the scientific approach. the undead version of attemborough is really into it, to excape the otherwise boring unlife... we really need our own hobbies. The story in itself, is perfectly executed, however if flows and tastes like fresh water... of course this is strictly personal, but to me it was a pleasant reading, but other pieces leave a more powerful impact. When you have only one vote, everything counts.

Spoiler: Story five: Behind the Mountain

Right, this one is the piece with some comedy in it... at this point i was wondering if there would have been one. Nice characterization of the protagonist and of the skink priest, here we really have the first step of a natural born explorer and luckily we also have a mentor that can recognize a vocation and in the end rewards the efforts. In the end I've had a very strong wibe of some old films as "Explorers" or "Flight of the navigator". a very AoS ending. Now, i liked the story, the characters and the arc... however the mix of the old world and suddenly the space exploration doesn't mix together wery well... yep, only one vote.

Imo we have five great stories, each one with some minor defect/s.
Men, usually when i do reviews my mind is clear and i know how to vote. In this case, not so much...

 

You may be right, but with almost 10 days to go, i'd say that nothing is written in stone.

 

No more reviews?

 

We experienced contests when the number of voters was barely superior to the number of authors.
With the massive number of users on LO it's a pity, but i fear we'll have no more than 1-2-3 votes still to come in.

 

yep, as 2 new votes indeed arrived, but in the end the gap widened.

i agree that at this point is basically "Game Over"... which, btw, was the story I gave my vote to.

 

The poll itself had a clear end date.

In any event, voting is over and we have a winner.

Story One: "The Maze" by @Lizards of Renown

Story Two: "A Safe Path" by @Killer Angel

Story Three: "Game Over" by @Imrahil

Story Four: "Extracts from ‘Life and Death in the Mortal Realms’" by @Y'ttar Scaletail

Story Five: "Behind the Mountain" by @thedarkfourth

The winner by a fairly comfortable margin is Killer Angel. Congratulations to Killer Angel and thank you to everyone who entered the contest.



I've been pretty busy this month so I haven't been able to do as much promoting as usual, but I will try to throw some belated reviews on these pieces.