Contest July-August 2024 Short Story Voting Contest (voting through September 7th)

The theme for our 39th seasonal short story contest, provided by the co-winners of last contest is "Hope and/or Despair" brought to us by @Killer Angel and @thedarkfourth.

Please read all five stories carefully before voting. You may vote for only ONE story.

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.

Happy reading everyone! Let the commentary, critiques and gushing praise begin.

Spoiler: Story One: "Jungle's Message"

Jungle’s Message


I watch my fellow man boarding the ships bound for the New World and I cannot help but weep for I know they make the same mistake as I.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Frederick Wolfgang was a nobody. He had been born a nobody. He had lived as a nobody. But damned if he was going to die a nobody. He would not see his child grow up in the same poverty that had for so long defined Frederick’s life. He would make enough coin so that young Siegfried would be able to choose the life he wanted to live, would be able to attend the finest academies. If Siegfried wanted to become a knight, then Frederick planned to have enough coin to make that happen. All it would take was this one venture: board the vessel that would sail the Great Ocean and set foot upon the untapped riches of the New World.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Peddlers call out promises of riches. “Join us” they say, “join our expedition and after a single trip you will earn treasure enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life”. Did they know? Are they knowingly lying to us, to the youth of the Empire, or are they selling the same belief that they hold?

-0-0-0-0-0-

The New World was a vastly different place from that of the Old World. Where the Empire and her provinces were chilled, a brisk breeze always present even on the warmest summer days, the New World of Lustra was warm with a humidity that stopped one from hoping to enjoy such a temperature. It was as if the very air of the New World was sweating alongside the humans who set foot upon her lands.

On the deck of the ship, the captain stared at them with an expression that Frederick wasn’t quite able to place. The captain had made it clear from the outset: neither he nor his crew were going to have any involvement beyond ferrying them and any treasures they brought with them.

Frederick fought down his discomfort and adjusted the breastplate that was his token of service once upon a time. A sword of middling quality and a piece of armor that had seen better days were his reward for serving the Empire. His reward for putting his life on the line for something greater than himself.

But maybe, this trip to this strange, untapped, primal land would allow him to use what he had earned from his time as a soldier of Riekland to finally gain the means to keep his family not just safe, but happy. He would put his training, weapon, and armor to use for his own gain for once.

Marius, the head of the expedition, was a lanky man with a scholarly air and clothing that was Tilean in fashion. He read through a collection of pages, humming as he took in the words printed upon each piece of paper.

"According to records from previous exploration parties," Marius spoke up after a prolonged period, "there is a structure, a pyramid, that holds within it a vast amount of gold."

Frederick swallowed down his annoyance at the condescending tone. He’d been to the Southlands; he knew what a pyramid was. Who was this Tilean to insinuate that he was such a clueless dullard? A look at the rest of the party showed similar expressions of distaste.

"What of the natives?" asked a towering giant of a man, shaved of head and carrying a large double-headed axe. His accent labeled him a Nordlander.

“Primitives,” Marius snorted, his face twisted into a disgusted sneer. “Little more than beastmen, really, though to their credit these ones at least have the decency not to be of Chaos taint. Still, you make a valid point. Their settlement is a short distance from the pyramid itself, and it would not do for us to have them aware of our... acquisitions."

“So that’s why you hired a small group like us,” another of their number spoke up. His name was Henri, and his accent marked him as Bretonnian; the bow marked him as a peasant. Likely a man who had left the kingdom to make something of himself in a different land, and like Frederick, had learned of this treasure hunt and decided to use his skill with the bow to make the money needed to live a comfortable life.

“That, and I would very much prefer to share the gains with as few as possible.” Marius wiped at his glasses again, his forehead creased with an irritated frown. “Splitting among a smaller number means more for each of us. We can always come back for more if we decide we haven’t made enough of a profit.”

Frederick looked over the party. It was far from a professional group; all of them, Frederick himself included, carried the looks and airs of being misfits. But their backgrounds wouldn’t matter once they returned home with the promised riches.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Lining up to join for promises of riches. Sail to an adventure, find treasure. The dreams of every young boy, the greed of every young man. How could any resist? When we are only told what we want to hear, those tantalizing siren calls that tickle at the base motivation of any man.

-0-0-0-0-0-

They found their destination thanks to Marius and his map and his notes. Though there had been more than a few wrong turns and a close call when Henri had gone to relieve himself and unwittingly done so into the nest of rodent-like creatures that were far too large to be natural. Two days of trekking and they reached their destination without too many issues or unpleasant surprises. But the whole time, Frederick could not help but feel like he was being watched. Tree branches would shake, leaves rustling even at moments when there was no breeze to be felt.

Then again, maybe the issue was that the thick jungle was blocking the breeze from reaching them and rustling as the trees enjoyed that stolen breeze for themselves.

The pyramid was an impressive structure. Frederick had never had a real appreciation for the art of creating buildings, but seeing this vast stone structure? Could these natives really be so primitive? To have built such a structure required a form of intelligence, surely? Stone perfectly cut, placed so perfectly as to make an absolutely smooth surface that was broken only by the deliberate layering design.

He silently promised himself to look into the exact meaning of the word “primitive.” He would soon have gold enough to be able to afford to ask an educated scholar.

A snap of a twig had Frederick twist around, hand resting on the hilt of his longsword. For a moment, there was stillness, then a canine creature emerged from behind a bush, huffed, and then scarpered. Frederick breathed in, telling himself to stop letting his nerves get to him. Soon, all his woes would be gone.

Following the others, they climbed the stairs that marked one side of the structure as different from the rest. Two hours of exploring the labyrinthine inside, they found the chamber that held their dreams. Gold. Everywhere gold.

“What...” Henri started, tone cautious. “Why would they use gold to form the wall?”

The peasant’s observation had some merit. The entirety of the walls was nothing but these gold panels. Of all the forms that the gold could have taken, this wasn’t quite how Frederick had envisioned it. But, as Marius and the ogre started to pull the golden squares away from the wall, he mused that the shape was at least convenient for stacking and storage. Easily piled into neat stacks within the three crates that they were each expected to carry. Two to a crate, and the ogres had strength enough to carry one each on their own.

He imagined it would also make the dividing far more convenient when each one was the same size. Just count out these golden plates in the same way one would coinage.

“This doesn’t feel right,” the Nordlander, who even after several days had yet to give his name, mumbled as they pried the ninth plate from the wall.

Frederick wanted to say something to put the other man’s mind at ease.

He couldn’t, though, because he too felt what had clearly caught the Nordlander’s attention. The entire time since they had set foot on the shores of the New World it had been hot, it had been humid, the heat had been oppressive enough to make itself felt no matter what the humans did to try and relieve themselves of it.

So why, in that moment as they pried away golden plates from the wall, did it feel like they were standing in the coldest of Empire winters?

-0-0-0-0-0-

The swindlers entice the youth with honeyed words that never tell of the reality. They make the youth sign up for riches, but those same youth are never warned: The Lizardmen of Lustria do not take kindly to thieves.

-0-0-0-0-0-

They had barely travelled far enough for the pyramid to fade from sight, obscured by the foliage as if it didn’t exist, when it started.

Where Frederick had spent the previous days feeling as though they were being watched by unseen eyes, now he knew for a fact that was the case. Maybe these Lizardmen had already learned of their theft and were following them? Maybe they were just curious about these strangers in their territory.

Now, every rustle of leaves marked the presence of their stalker. Constant movement of figures just at the edge of perception. The worst was when a figure was spotted at the corner of their eyes but, when heads turned to look upon them, they were already gone.

This was like nothing that Frederick had ever experienced. Even a skirmish with Wood Elves hadn’t been so akin to being hunted by ghosts.

And hunted they were. The first to fall was one of the ogres. To the rest, it was as though the ogre had merely stumbled on the uneven ground. But when he didn’t get up, Frederick and the Nordlander dropped their crate to go check on the larger individual. The ogre was dead, and the cause was immediately apparent: a half-dozen javelins had punctured into the ogre’s back. From where, Frederick could not say. They’d not heard anything, and the javelin that had punctured through the back of the ogre’s neck had clearly been the first and immediately fatal strike. The ogre had never had a chance to warn that he was being struck.

Then a javelin flew through the air and punctured the Nordlander’s knee. The man yelled out in pain. Frederick turned to call for aid, but the rest of the party had continued on without pause, even after the ogre had fallen. Frederick swore, glanced at the crate that held his share of the gold.

Movement. A large creature emerged from behind a tree, moving forward at a swift speed, and didn’t slow even as it passed the Nordlander and grabbed him, dragging him screaming into the thick overgrowth. The screaming kept going for another three minutes before cutting off abruptly.

Frederick pulled his greatsword from his back and swung it around in time to block a javelin.

He couldn’t drag the crate by himself, so he ignored it and ran. The rest of the party carried enough to make up for it. Maybe the end profits would be lesser for the absence of two crates, but Frederick wasn’t complaining.

He found Marius and Henri. The Bretonnian was hanging by his ankle from a tree, his skull caved in by a powerful blow. Marius, his body rather, was being chewed on by a large reptilian creature.

Frederick ignored them and ran past them. Forget the crate, it was not worth it. He saw at the edge of his vision smaller creatures than the one that dragged the Nordlander away, easily keeping pace. He tried to lose them, but still they kept pace, chittering.

Another corpse lay on the path. Then another. Frederick swore, stumbling slightly at a pinching sensation on his leg.

He encountered the rest of the party that still yet lived. They were back-to-back, forming a circle as they tried to fend off a tide of over-sized lizards. Frederick swore and left them. If he was to survive, it would be by evading them on his lonesome…

It was then that Frederick’s leg gave out. A hand probing at his leg revealed it was swollen and numb, a needle punctured into the center of the swollen limb. Breathing rapidly, he pulled his greatsword closer; if he was to die, it would be fighting.

He didn’t get that dignity. A small reptilian hand grabbed his hand and pried the weapon from his grip with a chiding sound, while another stood nearby absently tapping a rounded length of wood that looked almost like an oversized flute against its shoulder. Then it stepped back to make room for a larger creature, all sharp claws and teeth. It rumbled a growling sound and reached for Frederick.

Frederick screamed.

-0-0-0-0-0-

To this day I still don’t know why they let me live. Maybe I was meant to warn off future thieves. But every time I try to tell the misbegotten youth the folly of their notions of raiding the New World of its riches I am mocked. The brand scarring my flesh is a source of derision. So I watch as they board the vessels destined to cross the Great Ocean and I weep for more of our youth are destined to die in the name of greed, trying to claim what does not belong to any man.

The Lizardmen of Lustria do not tolerate thieves. And those thieves will pay a toll with blood.

Spoiler: Story Two: "He said he would would come"

He said he would come

Underneath gray-green foliage a unit of Skinks slowly follows a narrow path through a desolate forestry swamp. Twisted trees to the left and corrupted branches to the right. Everything cascading in a sickening green hue.
‘Do we need to go much further?’ chirped the skink in the back, ‘I have seen and smelled enough to report back to Oytlakeqo.’
‘No, this is not enough evidence.’ Spoke the leader, “Based on what we see and smell here we can make assumptions, but we all know: “assumptions are the spawning pool of all failures“. On top of that Oytlakeqo said he would follow us soon with the rest of the starhost.’
And with that the unit moved forward again.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Sunlight stroked the wide stretched canopies of the jungles north of Mekitopsar. The city located at the southern edge of a vast area of jungle trees and all sorts of vegetation, began its life many years ago as a rundown Temple ship. Since then the city grew and grew, crews of Skinks and Kroxigors bonded over construction sites, expanding the city to its current glory.

Much of the growth could be attributed to the working class, but an equal contribution to it was the relative peace provided by the northbound jungle. At the gates of the city a wide and open plain reached from the east to the west crawling along the southern wall. Bare rock and dirt with a sparse plumage of dried grass.

This side of the city was more troubled with occasional visitors.
Once in a blue moon the city endured a ravaging horde of Orruks. Almost all of the time it was the Bloodtoofs clan that stirred the pot. The last rampage had been three or so years ago.
Due to the wide and far view the attackers were seen far in advance of the actual attack and the city was prepared for them.

To prevent foes from the north closing in unseen, a starhost is located in the jungle. The starhost consisted of three units of Skinks, a unit of Kroxigors and two Scar-Veterans on Carnosaur, under control of Skink Starseer Oytlakeqo

-0-0-0-0-0-

The patrol found its way through crumbled walls and broken stone. The forest growing more twisted and sickness spreading far around. The bright blue of and vibrant red of their scales and crests fading to a dull gray-green emanating from the boiling pools of thick syrupy liquid.

Kektuotl led the patrol. Carefully scanning the surroundings. He halted the unit, lifted his nose in the air and sniffed for clues. To their right, between a pit of the green liquid and a once minor ziggurat, something attracted his attention. Shadows appeared on the wall. At first just one hunched shadow with a pointy nose, soon several more followed.

Ru'akuil turned to his leader: “The rat-men! Just as I assumed!” accentuating the last word although whispered. Kektuotl looked annoyed back at him and answered firmly: ”We will stand our ground, Oytlakeqo said he would come!”

-0-0-0-0-0-

On a clearing in the jungle, just outside the walls of the city, there was a coming and going of lizards in different sizes. All around stood the remnants of what, not long ago, had been an encampment for a complete starhost. To the side of the clearing hovered a stone chair with a skink overseeing the activities. Beside him, on either side, stood a Scar-Veteran ready to mount their Carnosaurs when the order were to be given to march out.

A skink approached the palanquin: "Starseer Oytlakeqo, in a couple of minutes the campsite will be cleared and everybody will be ready to go.” The Starseer answered with a nod of acknowledgement and the skink went back to work.
Tzun-tlaoc, the Scar-Veteran to the right, turned to Starseer Oytlakeqo: “Is there any word from our scouting party yet?”
“No word yet, I had hoped for more information, but we will march forward as planned.”

-0-0-0-0-0-

With a loud squeak one of the rat-men embraced a spiked club with its skull while the last one fell face down in the swamp pinned with three darts in its back.
Kektuotl pried his club out of the rat “This was a scouting party of theirs, the main army will not be far behind.”
“All the more reason to head back to the host and report” responded Ru’akuil firmly.
The skink alpha looked at him and weighed the options. After a couple of seconds he nodded and looked around to the eight other members of the patrol. “Group together, we are heading …”
Before he could end the order, two rays of hellish green light buzzed through the air. Two skinks got hit and were ripped apart in an instance, leaving just burning parts of skin and scales. The second ray hit a tree behind the unit and shattered it to thousands of splinters.

“Warp lighting, take cover!" The remaining skinks scattered to nearby trees and rocks to hide behind. “What will we do now, Kektuotl?”
“We have to stand our ground, Oytlakeqo said he would come.”

-0-0-0-0-0-

The clearing in the jungle had emptied. The starhost traveled northward under the cover of the thick jungle canopy. Slowly but carefully tracking the path that the scouting patrol had followed.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The sickening green hue still lighted everything around the pools and casted shadows of creatures on the treetops above.
Five skinks jumped over the last remnants of a wall to take new cover again. They were followed by the sound of warp lighting, bullets and throwing daggers clanging against stone. Two at a time the skinks fire darts back at the enemy line. Now and then hearing a squeak or dropping of a limp body.

Suddenly the sounds of attacks came to a halt. Pressing silence came over the area. Kektuotl turned around to look through the broken stones and caught a glimpse of a large horned figure approaching the wall.
“They have a Vermin lord” he uttered under his breath

The strike of a giant double-side scythe filled the air and stone broke apart taking three skinks with it. A second swing struck the stone behind Kektuotl and pierced his shoulder.
He spoke to Ru’akuil as he awaited the final blow: “He said he would come…”

Spoiler: Story Three: "A Promise of Hope"

A PROMISE OF HOPE​

“just… one more… mile…”

The panting skink ran through the jungle. The pace of breathing was too fast, punctuated by a gasp every now and then.

“Oh great Huanchi… I am Te’Piki… Your humble servant… I beg you… give me the strength of the jaguar… to run… another…. mile".

The skink ran across a clearing of razor grass. When she emerged, numerous reddish scratches marked her legs, overlapping with other similar, slightly older scratches.

The skink ran awkwardly, carrying a suspiciously bloated shoulder bag, holding it in her arms so as not to bounce it.

The skink had a shield strapped to its back, and an empty scabbard at its side. The sword lost who knows where.

The skink ran.

“The top… of the hill. The top… of the hill. Then I'll look... behind. Then… I will rest.”

The top of the hill was a black ridge against the reddish sky, dazzled by the setting sun. When the skink reached it, she carefully placed her bag on the grass, then collapsed to the ground, her back resting against the trunk of a drum tree.

Panting, she looked in the direction she had come from.

The sky was boiling with greenish and purple clouds, behind the mist and the foliage of the tallest plants, the flashes of distant flames could be glimpsed… the flashes of the fire that was consuming the no more visible temple-city.

The clouds slowly expanded, no birds sang.

“I made so much noise that I must have scared them…”

Then the skink saw, from under a bush, a pair of eyes staring at him. The wide, glassy eyes of a howler monkey sprawled on the ground, motionless, its fur stained with spilled vomit.

“I have to keep running.”

---------

And the race went on. For almost a week, further and further west, always keeping the green clouds behind, always protecting the shoulder bag.

Every day a little slower than the previous one (“I should have already been at Thepulchan mangrove forest…”)

Every day with a greater need to rest ("What was that noise? I have to keep moving...")

Every day more and more hungry (“Corruption may have preceded me. I can't risk eating infected food...")

And so the flight continued, incessant, breathless. Fortunately, the skink was no longer alone. Pik'Ta'Ko, her dearest brother from the spawning pool, had joined her. He too was running away, he too was going towards the other temple city.

“I saw you die…”, Te’Piki had told him

“Don't be silly, how could I be here if I were dead?”, Pik'Ta'Ko replied.

And so they ran together for miles, remembering the days of training, the pranks on the saurus knights when they mixed the sleep flower with the food of the aggradons before the parade, the lazy swims in the Xanthi river, following the currents of warm water and try to catch by surprise the blot toads lost in their amorous serenades.

Until the warm water turned cold, and Te'Piki regained clarity. She was of course alone, with her legs immersed in the water of a swamp, in the late twilight, surrounded by the croaking of toads.

“For the Old Ones, I ended up in a swamp…”

Then Te'Piki realized.

“I'm in a swamp... it's salamander mating season. You should never go to the swamps during the salamander mating season."

The skink placed very delicately the shield on the water, like a small boat, putting the bag inside it. Then, very slowly, she began to swim, trying to disturb the waters as little as possible, trying to follow the few weak currents that could take her out of that trap.

“Caxuatn, God of predators, turn away from me the gaze of the flame-bearers. Tzunki, God of the waters, guide me through Your kingdom. Conalxa, God of shadows, hide me in Your cloak. Itzl, God of beasts, grant me to save Your children.”

And Te'Piki swam all night, silent and unable to feel her legs for the cold, letting the currents guide her, praying to Caxuatn, Tzunki, Conalxa and Itzl, until the marshes were behind her, until the first lights of dawn showed a landing place, until Te'Piki understood why she had been so lucky.

The salamanders had also arrived at the beach.

Dozens of bloated, rotting bodies… the carcasses had been carried downstream, pushed by the same currents Te'Piki had swum, piling up near the beach. No scavenger birds dared approach, only the flies were attracted by the fetid bodies.

Te'Piki left the river, and headed west.

---------

Day followed day, but time was now a blur. Sunrise behind her, sunset ahead. And in the middle a dull pain.

Something had followed Te'Piki from the swamp. Something in the water, the same something that had decreed the end of the salamanders. Something growing inside her, slowly but surely.

Since three days her breathing had become a gurgling hiss. Since two days she had been bleeding from her mouth and nose. Since a day she had felt something moving under the skin of her scratched legs that had been immersed in the water. It didn’t mattered.

Sunrise behind her.

“just… one more… mile…”

Sunset ahead.

---------

Confused memories accompanied Te'Piki. The Ritual of imprinting. The eggs that hatched, the baby aggradons that stared into her eyes, losing themselves in her gaze… her, the first living being there for them, their mother, who would protect and nourish them. And even years later, when they would have been nine feet tall seasoned killers, rode by Saurus Knights, they would have looked for Te'Piki, warbling the Song of Union.

“I’ve said stop! Don't take another step!"

Te'Piki shook herself out of her trance. She tried with difficulty to focus her gaze in front of her... the indistinct figures slowly became a skink priest, some saurus warriors and a couple of handlers with a salamander.

Te'Piki, exhausted, finally fell to his knees.

He tried to speak, despite the pain in his throat.

"I am the Chief Handler of the temple city of Xunt'la. We have been attacked by the forces of the ruinous powers"

The skink priest raised his hand, interrupting her.

"We know. Lord Baathrax is containing the plague, while we prepare the counterattack. But you brought the corruption with you... I’m sorry, but you can't continue."

He nodded towards the salamander.

“Your remains will be cleansed.”

Te'Piki nodded "I know, I’m not here to save myself."

She pushed the bag forward.

"There are two Crested Aggradons’ eggs in here. The ones we preserved from corruption, the last of their kind. Save them."

The priest looked at Te'Piki, a deep sadness in his eyes.

"Look... you've been traveling for over 2 weeks. Even if they hadn't been corrupted, and that's very difficult, there's no way anything could have survived all that time, away from the hatching grounds."

"NO!" Te'piki coughed up blood.

"No... the eggs were protected. Wrapped in enchanted cloth. The High Priest of Chotek gave them warmth, as if they never left the hatching grounds; the High Priest of Potek shielded them from the supernatural touch of Chaos. Please..."

The priest looked at the bag in front of him, thoughtfully.

"Even if it were, you've been running all this time... they will have been tossed around. The protection of the Old Ones might not have been enough. Dozens of things could have gone wrong. You're holding on to a very slim hope."

"Please... they are the last thing that remains of my city. Tell me I didn't do it all for nothing. Tell me there's a chance."

The priest remained silent. He grabbed the bag.”Such a thin hope…”

“But is there, yes?”

The priest turned his back to Te’Piki. “Yes, there is. May the Old Ones welcome you in the Celestial Spawning Pool”.

The priest went away. Te’Piki smiled, with blood tears in her eyes. The salamander closed in.

Spoiler: Story Four: "Under the Night's Embrace"

Under the Night’s Embrace


—


10.566th cycle of the Fated Place “Mallus”
14th Lunar cycle
3rd day

Imperial Calendar: Ulriczeit 9th, 2521


My dearest,

I suppose by this time that you are sound asleep, for I am writing you this letter far past sundown. It feels like only a few moments have passed since I last saw the scales on your face, as it has felt like only moments since I have gotten the military call-up from Tiktaq’to, under the prevalence of the Lord of the Sun city themself, Mage-priest Mazdamundi. This is the reason we must be parted during these quiet nights.

Our journey to Hexaotl has been without much hindrance. For now, we have all been placed in our quarters and are awaiting the arrival of the other troops within a fortnight. We shall receive our orders from Tiktaq’to hereinafter.

I hope to see you soon.

Rest well, my dear Calno’a-Me, and may the night’s embrace give you tranquillity and solace.

Kil’Qatax


—


10.556th cycle of the Fated Place “Mallus”
14th Lunar cycle
5th day

Imperial Calendar: Ulriczeit 11th, 2521


My dearest,

Plans seem to have changed. We have gotten word that our troops, who are already within the city’s borders, do not have the time to stand by for any more days. We can not wait for further measurements and are required to act now. It is therefore I write to you this letter.

Given my history with terradons, I have been asked to help move ours closer to the battlefronts to prepare our riders - and those who are still on their way - for aerial assaults. We shall travel by night since the terradons are least restless during the night. This, and the shade during the hours of darkness will grant us concealment when moving our troops. The sun is setting, so I best be on my way.

I think of you with every breath I take, my little dragonscale.


Rest well, my dear Calno’a-Me, and may the night’s embrace give you tranquillity and solace.

Kil’Qatax


—


10.556th cycle of the Fated Place “Mallus”
14th Lunar cycle
17th day

Imperial Calendar: Ulriczeit 23rd, 2521


My dearest,

I hope these letters find you well. A fortnight has passed now since our first exchange. I still long for your presence as deeply as I did then, if not more.

Tiktaq’to has been telling us the planned aerial attacks have been fruitful. However strong, they are still not enough to make their onslaught come to a halt. I am afraid it will result in a battle of exhaustion for now. It will be our troops against time itself. Until we gain more strength in numbers. Yet we remain hopeful.

Tiktaq’to has given me new orders. A few of our other troops had just arrived this afternoon. I must prepare their terradon riders for battle for the next few days. We will be moving the terradons along with their riders by the dozen now. Subsequently, I will be moved toward the front as well alongside the last terradon-squadron.

A last favour before I flake out until the morning. Would you be so kind as to hydrate my plants? For they deserve to feel your love as I have before. This, and I fear they will not flower again if I will not be home in time for their next watering.

Rest well, my dear Calno’a-Me, and may the night’s embrace give you tranquillity and solace.

Kil’Qatax


—


10.556th cycle of the Fated Place “Mallus”
15th Lunar cycle
13th day

Imperial Calendar: Vorhexen 11th, 2521


My dearest,

It has now been a month since our troops’ first move and there are still new warriors flowing in. The enemy’s perpetual barrage has been present for nigh on three weeks now. The exhaustion at the battlefronts is palpable.

Yesterday was the first time the entirety of one of our battalions did not make it back to camp after deployment. Our numbers seem to be diminishing rapidly in the last couple of days. There are tremors beneath the earth we rest on. There are darker forces at hand. Whispers of a lord of Chaos run rampant amongst our men. They call him “The Tormentor”.

However daunting this “Tormenter", or however dreadful this battle might seem, your unconditional love and the prospect of seeing the radiance of your vibrant green eyes once more is fueling my courage like an unending furnace. I will rest my eyes now, knowing I am one night closer to our reunion at last.

Rest well, my dear Calno’a-Me, and may the night’s embrace give you tranquillity and solace.

Kil’Qatax


—


10.556th cycle of the Fated Place “Mallus”
15th Lunar cycle
15th day

Imperial Calendar: Vorhexen 13th, 2521


My dearest,

Something incredible has come to pass. Before even the break of day, all of us warriors in camp got woken from our slumber. It sounded like an earthquake had hit the adjoining hills. You could feel the forest making way for the vigour that was cresting the jungle hills. It looked like the sun themself had decided to advance their arrival. They presented themself in the form of our mighty lord Mazdamundi atop his stegadon leading a tidal wave of ferocious soldiers.

The next couple of days we will be focusing our power towards the battlefront as much as we can. I will be standing with my fellows, side by side, to see this enemy defeated at the hands of our great legions. The tides have turned, my love. You can sleep sound tonight. It might not be today, it might not be tomorrow, but soon we will have our triumph. Soon we will be reunited.

Rest well, my dear Calno’a-Me, and may the night’s embrace give you tranquility and solace.

Kil’Qatax


—


Calno’a-Me laid the last letter on the wooden table they had been sitting in front of. The stack of papers held their gaze for a moment after which it met up with that of the lizardman who was standing on the other side of the table. They smiled and reached out to Calno’a-Me holding another letter. They took the letter out of the lizardman’s grasp.


—

HEXOATL MILITIA
Aerial Force Division
1st Brigade, Battalions A - D​

The date shown on this letter uses the IMPERIAL CALENDAR as dated since the coronation of Emperor Sigmar​

Vorhexen 27th, 2521​

L.N.o.T.= 10.566:16:5
GOV.= I.C.: N.LUSTRIA
St.= B.A1-A5

We deeply regret to inform you that your family member / significant other KIL’QATAX was killed on 27 VORHEXEN 2521 at HEXOATL HILLS HEXOATL ISTHMUS OF LUSTRIA in the fulfilment of their obligations and service to their kin and kind. The remains could not be retrieved. To avert the further help of enemy forces do not disclose their station or any other information given in this letter to anyone until further notice.

Please accept our condolences and sincere commiseration.

Tiktaq’To, Master of the Skies


—


Calno’A-Me let their arms hang limp next to their body, staring at the point in space where they were just holding the letter.

“They were a courageous leader.”

Calno’A-Me woke up from their stare. They looked at the lizardman who was still standing across the wooden table. The lizardman cracked a forced smile, trying to convey their sympathy. A moment of silence followed before they continued expressing their awkward compassion.

“Your significant other, they died a hero. I thought you’d’ve wanted to know,” they muttered.

“Oh, yes. Erm… Yes, thank you.” Calno’A-Me responded, visibly woeful by the whole situation in front of them. They got swept away by their thoughts and stared into nothing for a while again before speaking again. “Maybe… maybe it’s better if you- I mean, do you mind if I-”

“W- would you like me to leave you alone?” the lizardman asked.

“Yes.”

“But of course. I-I will… erm… yes. Again, my… erm... my condolences.”

They stumbled over their words the same way they stumbled over the doorstep before Calno’A-Me closed the door behind the messenger. As soon as the door’s lock fell in its place, they closed their eyes. They welled up with tears. Calno’A-Me rested their head against the door. They whispered with a voice breaking as their heart had already done.

“Rest well, my brave Kil’Qatax, and may death’s embrace give you tranquility and solace.”

They turned their back towards the door and let their grief pull them to the floor. They sat there for a while with their arms resting on their knees, their head resting in their arms. And after they felt like they had no more tears to shed, they lifted their head and let it hit the wooden planks behind them. They opened their eyes and stared across their seemingly emptier room. Their glance met the furthest corner of the room. There, atop one of the many plants placed together, was a breathtaking, heavenly, gorgeous violet flower.

It bloomed,




for the first time in years.

Spoiler: Story Five: "If You Don't Laugh, You Cry"

If you don't laugh you cry


Journal of Duf'is, junior acolyte in the pyramid temple of Chotec

Our whole temple city seems on the point of despair. Mage Priest Kuatl shows no sign of rousing from his contemplations. The army sent out under Oldblood Trax-lor has not returned, and has not even sent a messenger. The spawning pools are utterly motionless. We have received no supplies or communications from other cities for many moons, and every day we hear reports of new enemies in the jungle.

I have been attempting to keep up morale with my little entertainments. But no one seems cheered by my juggling routine, my close-up "magic", or even by the one with the randy salamander. I will just have to find something more amusing.

The priests are preparing a ritual in a final attempt to rouse the Mage Priest tomorrow. They will use powder made from the most ferocious of the sacred chili peppers, together with spells of wakening.

-

The ritual was not successful. I have been blamed. But it was really just an accident! I had been asked to fetch a ladder for the repair works to the city defenses. I was just leaving the storage room with the ladder on my shoulder when someone called my name.

I turned around, naturally failing to realise that the whole ladder swung around with me, causing one end to topple a pile of wooden crates, and the other end to strike another skink over the head. In the commotion, a pail of water was also dislodged from a shelf above, falling directly onto my head and causing me to flail about with the ladder for several more moments before I could recover myself.

This could have happened to anyone.

Once calm was restored, I realised that the unconscious acolyte I'd hit with the ladder was L'rex, who I knew was tasked with bringing the sacred materials for the ritual of the Mage Priest. Knowing that this task was much more important than the ladder, I immediately decided to undertake it myself on L'rex's behalf.

He had been carrying a box of chili powder to the ritual, but the boxes were now jumbled all over the floor. Assuming they were all the same, I seized one at random and ran to the Inner Sanctum where the priests were waiting to start the ritual.

Later on, I learned that the box I'd selected did not contain chili powder, but rather sleeping powder. The Mage Priest had been sent into a deeper slumber than ever. (Possibly related, a number of patients undergoing treatment in the medical barracks, who required a long rest, were accidentally given high-strength chili powder that resulted in painful convulsions and desperate pleas for large quantities of water.)

The favourable celestial moment for the ritual has now passed, and the city is in greater despair than ever. I am particularly dejected as no one will talk to me or even look at me.

-

We are celebrating! There is a new cause for hope, which is that the spawning pools appear to have reactivated. No spawnings have emerged yet, but the sacred waters are beginning to agitate themselves.

The priests are hopeful that a new generation of lizardmen could emerge any day now, to restore the city to prosperity. Everyone is nervous, as this is widely considered our very last hope. If the spawning should somehow fail, this will truly be the end for us.

Even though I explained about the accident with the ladder, I have been forbidden from attending the spawning pools. In fact I have been ordered not to approach anywhere near, and given the task of cleaning the animal enclosures on the furthest side of the city.

-

This time I really don't see how anyone can say it was my fault. I was cleaning the enclosures just as I'd been told. All I did was take a short break to eat a banana I had taken for my breakfast.

How was I supposed to know that where I left the banana peel was the exact place where, minutes later, a stegadon and her handlers would be passing by? How was I to expect that one of the handlers would trip on the peel, causing him to fall flat on his back and sending his spear out of his hands and firmly into the rump of the stegadon, causing the beast to charge forward in pain? And is it my fault that the stegadon's howdah straps got entangled with a giant clay tank containing all the water and the fish that had been temporarily removed from the piranha ponds while they were cleaned?

Certainly it cannot be my fault that the stegadon then proceeded to rampage right across the city, dragging the tank behind it, until it was finally tackled by a whole squad of kroxigors, causing the tank to overturn. Nor can I be blamed for this occurring just as the spawning pools were reaching the height of activity, and the new lizardmen were appearing within the mystical waters, only for the sacred pools to be deluged with a flood from the overturned tank, containing hundreds of ravenous flesh-eating piranha fish.

But despite having done nothing wrong, I have been called the destroyer of the city. I even offered to perform my little skit with the custard pies, but they still do not seem pleased!

 

Story One, "Jungle's Message" by @J.Logan

Story Two, "He Said He Would Come" by @Imrahil

Story Three, "A Promise of Hope" by @Killer Angel THE WINNER

Story Four, "Under the Night's Embrace" by @Llinyn Tathrenlir

Story Five, "If You Don't Laugh, You Cry" by @thedarkfourth

 

one vote and five stories was the worst possible scenario...

 

A pretty common feeling

 

I really need to write some reviews. It always helps me in picking my final choice...

 

As promised, short review time!

Spoiler: Story 1: Jungle's Message

Stories in diary form are a consolidated tradition and a common trope around here. This one offers a new perspective and that is good by itself, as the protagonist just remembers his past. The story is well structured, nothing new under the sun but it's still a solid piece, with nice descriptions and a good sense of the increasing despair, as riches become worthless and what only matters is your own life.
The story covers also the hope (to improve your own life). Good start of the competition, indeed!

Spoiler: Story 2: He said he would come

Sometime, it's better to listen to the advices of your underlings. The leader patrol stubbornly insist to go on with the recon mission, thus dooming the scout party and, who knows, maybe even the main lizardmen force.
All of this for a vain hope ("he said he would come..."). Yes, of course he will come, but in due time. It's not the army that should get to the advanced patrol without prior knowledge from you, you silly lizard!
The story covers really well both hope and despair, and it's original enough... I liked this piece, i could vote for it.

Spoiler: Story 3: A promise of hope

Another one that covers both despair and hope... our protagonist flees from a colossal danger, we learned soon enought it's a nurgle invasion that razed the temple-city of the fleeing skink.
I was displaced when another skink appeared, but the suspension of disbelief was saved when it was clear it was just an hallucination due to deprivation of sleep and extreme fatigue. During the story we see that the skink is doomed to die, and she's supported only by the sheer will to (maybe) save the last two eggs of a certain type of dinosaurs. Will her sacrifice be enough? we don't know, the story don't tell us, but isn't it the very nature of hope? good story.

Spoiler: Story 4: Under the nights embrace

A very emotional story, letters from the frontline, the hope to reunite with the beloved one, the despair of the one that's left alive and alone. A really touching story, even if predictable. IMO the most emotional piece of all the bunch, but also the one that threw me off more. The feelings of the cold blooded protagonists have been made too much the same as their human counterpart, and i would have liked a different approach to express the same tie but in a more alien way. I know it's difficult, but for me this is the downside of this particular piece.

Spoiler: Story 5: If you don't laugh, you cry

the ending piece is also the humorous one. The increasing despair of the temple city facing its doom is only perceived as unlucky events by our goofy protagonist, which is (on the contrary) driven by eternal optimism. The poor, unlucky skink is the very maker of the crescendo of the bad events that are slowly condemning the city. From a storytelling pov it's not the strongest piece of this competition, but i've really liked the idea behind it. I could vote for this, but I would have also liked to see a better development of the story, which focuses a little too much on the series of unfortunate events and coincidences.

So yeah, i'm basically down to 2 pieces

 

Difficult decision taken.

 

I wish i could like more than once @Y'ttar Scaletail 's return
Amazing post!

 

I miss your reviews...

 

Well, that's great!

Every story took at least 1 vote... and i must say that i'm particularly happy for this, as the piece that was stuck with 0 votes was my second fav story (a sad fate to be the 2nd pick when you have only 1 choice )