Slann
Scalenex
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We had a tie in the most recent Short Story Contest. So I'm a setting up a ten day tie-breaker period. Just in case someone finds this post without finding the original contest post, here it is. I'm still posting the official winner's announcement and author IDs there.
I like both semi-finalist pieces and am going to re-read both carefully before making a decision.
You can vote however you want but if you are going to say "I voted for X, not Y," please keep your stated reasoning based on literary merit rather than relatively arbitrary things.
Please do not comment on the running vote tally until at least five days have passed.
Please do not reveal author identities until the semi-finals are complete, even if you wrote one of the pieces that is not a semi-finalist.
I like both semi-finalist pieces and am going to re-read both carefully before making a decision.
You can vote however you want but if you are going to say "I voted for X, not Y," please keep your stated reasoning based on literary merit rather than relatively arbitrary things.
Please do not comment on the running vote tally until at least five days have passed.
Please do not reveal author identities until the semi-finals are complete, even if you wrote one of the pieces that is not a semi-finalist.
The Dinosaur
The Knight Errant Roland was eager to prove himself, but he was aware of the danger.
He had already found the corpses of two other knights… better equipped than himself and more experienced, judging from their insignia, but even their ability had proved to be no match for a horde of ghouls in Mousillon (the former) and the arrows of wood elves near Artois (the latter).
Unsurprisingly, large numbers of the knights of Aquitaine were heading East… someone had kidnapped (through the use of dark magic) the beautiful Lady Charlotte, Duke Armand’s daughter. The Lady’s Prophetesses, led by their holy power, had been able to point the research toward a specific place: Uzkulak, in the Dark Lands.
Many knights had chosen the most direct route, heading toward the land of the Chaos Dwarfs by passing through the friendly realms of the Empire and Kislev… but not Roland. He was convinced that it would have been more worthy to take a riskier route, through the Sea of Chaos and the River Ruin. Legends are forged by courage.
So he sailed with a ship from l’Anguille, braving the dangerous, northern sea.
And dangerous it was, indeed: twice the ship was attacked… firstly by a Chimera, that tore many sailors before Roland was able to take it down, then some Norscan pirates, that fled when the knight beheaded their champion.
Roland was saluted as a hero by the crew, but all these extraordinary feats were not completely satisfying, as there was something indefinite that was worrying him… surely the fact that Lady Charlotte was still in danger.
When the ship docked in Erengrad, Roland followed a land route alongside the River Ruin, facing once again many threats… a feral great bear in the frozen plains of Kislev, then (more to the south) a black ork riding an armored war boar.
With each step Roland’s strength was growing… and so his discomfort, always with the feeling that something was out of place.
Finally, when the northern cold was only a distant memory, Roland’s goal was there: the tower of the Chaos Dwarf Sorcerer, where Lady Charlotte was kept captive.
Roland shook off his anxiety and went for the tower: many hobgoblins were slew that day, and finally he bravely faced the horrors of the tower: a bull centaur fell by his sword and lastly even the Dark Sorcerer was killed, despite his foul magic.
The day was Roland’s… and yet, while he was setting free Lady Charlotte, there was still something that he wasn’t able to explain to himself.
Then, the road to home: Kislev, the Empire… it was a long journey, during which Roland was still forced to fight a chaos giant. Inevitably, Lady Charlotte fell in love with this brave, gallant knight, and Roland loved her too, but he wasn’t happy, not completely.
When they returned to the Capital, escorted by a group of Grail Knights, all the kingdom of Aquitaine celebrated them, and the Duke, who knew how to recognize valor, granted Roland the title of Paladin and (reading his daughter's heart) also granted the knight to marry Charlotte.
That day would be long sung by the bards, with bretonnian and elven guests on their magnificent griffins and dragons, and flocks of pegasi flying over the city… the ceremony was stupendous, but all the while, even on what should have been his finest day, Roland was not left with the feeling that something was wrong.
After the wedding dinner, the knight and the princess left the city gates and strolled near the wood of lovers. The knight embraced his beautiful bride and suddenly managed to understand what had been tormenting him for all these months: "But shouldn't there also be a dinosaur in this story?".
“Indeed, sorry for being late, here I am!”, said the Carnosaur, coming out from the wood.
And ate them.
The Knight Errant Roland was eager to prove himself, but he was aware of the danger.
He had already found the corpses of two other knights… better equipped than himself and more experienced, judging from their insignia, but even their ability had proved to be no match for a horde of ghouls in Mousillon (the former) and the arrows of wood elves near Artois (the latter).
Unsurprisingly, large numbers of the knights of Aquitaine were heading East… someone had kidnapped (through the use of dark magic) the beautiful Lady Charlotte, Duke Armand’s daughter. The Lady’s Prophetesses, led by their holy power, had been able to point the research toward a specific place: Uzkulak, in the Dark Lands.
Many knights had chosen the most direct route, heading toward the land of the Chaos Dwarfs by passing through the friendly realms of the Empire and Kislev… but not Roland. He was convinced that it would have been more worthy to take a riskier route, through the Sea of Chaos and the River Ruin. Legends are forged by courage.
So he sailed with a ship from l’Anguille, braving the dangerous, northern sea.
And dangerous it was, indeed: twice the ship was attacked… firstly by a Chimera, that tore many sailors before Roland was able to take it down, then some Norscan pirates, that fled when the knight beheaded their champion.
Roland was saluted as a hero by the crew, but all these extraordinary feats were not completely satisfying, as there was something indefinite that was worrying him… surely the fact that Lady Charlotte was still in danger.
When the ship docked in Erengrad, Roland followed a land route alongside the River Ruin, facing once again many threats… a feral great bear in the frozen plains of Kislev, then (more to the south) a black ork riding an armored war boar.
With each step Roland’s strength was growing… and so his discomfort, always with the feeling that something was out of place.
Finally, when the northern cold was only a distant memory, Roland’s goal was there: the tower of the Chaos Dwarf Sorcerer, where Lady Charlotte was kept captive.
Roland shook off his anxiety and went for the tower: many hobgoblins were slew that day, and finally he bravely faced the horrors of the tower: a bull centaur fell by his sword and lastly even the Dark Sorcerer was killed, despite his foul magic.
The day was Roland’s… and yet, while he was setting free Lady Charlotte, there was still something that he wasn’t able to explain to himself.
Then, the road to home: Kislev, the Empire… it was a long journey, during which Roland was still forced to fight a chaos giant. Inevitably, Lady Charlotte fell in love with this brave, gallant knight, and Roland loved her too, but he wasn’t happy, not completely.
When they returned to the Capital, escorted by a group of Grail Knights, all the kingdom of Aquitaine celebrated them, and the Duke, who knew how to recognize valor, granted Roland the title of Paladin and (reading his daughter's heart) also granted the knight to marry Charlotte.
That day would be long sung by the bards, with bretonnian and elven guests on their magnificent griffins and dragons, and flocks of pegasi flying over the city… the ceremony was stupendous, but all the while, even on what should have been his finest day, Roland was not left with the feeling that something was wrong.
After the wedding dinner, the knight and the princess left the city gates and strolled near the wood of lovers. The knight embraced his beautiful bride and suddenly managed to understand what had been tormenting him for all these months: "But shouldn't there also be a dinosaur in this story?".
“Indeed, sorry for being late, here I am!”, said the Carnosaur, coming out from the wood.
And ate them.
A day to be grateful
Jungle surrounding Tlaxtlan, Lustria
8th of Jahrdrung, 1549 IC/1.17.10.5.15.18. 11 Etz’nab’ 1 Xul
On the east side of the vast and dense jungle, just before the spectral blue that is the great ocean, laid a glistering coast with little to none high vegetation. From the point where the waves crush upon the coastline to the jungle’s edge, roughly three miles land inwards, stretched a sandy plain, now resting in the morning sunlight.
A couple of miles beyond the jungle’s edge, two skinks walked slowly between the trees dragging a large bag mad out of palm leaves behind them. “How much further do you think we need to go, Tak’ek Muntoc?”
“The priest said to drop it off at the beginning of the sand plains, so it will be at least two more miles.”
“I sure hope it will be possible for us to move back in time.” Said Qu’ Tuazl nervously.
Tak’ek Muntoc looked at him and nodded: “The more reason to pull a bit harder.”
They dragged the bag for a mile more in silence, purely focusing on the task at hand. It was Qu’ Tuazl again that broke the silence: “I still don’t completely understand why we are doing this.”
“What is there to understand? This is a tradition that we practice year in year out.”
“I know that much, but are we doing this just because it is a tradition? What is the reason this is a tradition? I mean, not that I am ungrateful for being one of the chosen for this year’s tribute duty, but why are we doing this exactly?”
Tak’ek Muntoc stopped and let go of the bag. “Well okay, sit down and listen!” he replied agitated. After taking a couple of deep and calming breaths he continued: “You are familiar with the history of the arrival of the warmbloods at our doorstep, I presume?” He looked over to his spawning brother and continued without expecting an answer to his rhetorical question. “It all started fifty-seven years ago in this very region. Not long after the warmbloods had set foot on, what they now refer to as, Colombo’s Island. The settlement of Santa Magritta was just formed and consisted only of one dock and three houses.
Although small in numbers, the warmbloods did not keep to the island alone. Soon they travelled along the Scorpion’s Coast to discover new places and resources.
So it came to be that on the sandy plain beside the jungle the activities and voices of the warmbloods filled the air. Houses were built and soil was prepared to start farmlands.
Skink patrols set out more frequently to keep a close eye on the situation and reported back to Tlaxtlan.
The warmbloods, that settled, spawned warmbloods that were adventurous. The later were more curious in nature than the first and even made trips into the jungle.
The observing patrols were pulled further back to avoid confrontation. The Slann did not find the warmbloods worthy of interaction in any way, shape or form.
Loud noises of the breaking of wood and disrupting of earth however alerted them that something was going wrong. The patrols of skinks rushed forward inspect and stand at the ready to protect the jungle from destruction. When they arrived at the jungle’s edge they noticed that the jungle didn’t need protection, but that the jungle provided protection itself. A pair of Therizinosaurs had emerged from their safe cover of vegetation and roamed freely in the village, breaking down houses and killing warmbloods that did not manage to get away in time. Those that did, gathered at the coastline and franticly reached for the boats. They rowed back to Santa Magritta.
In the aftermath of the rampage the Therizinosaurs kept walking around the once village and did not move back to the jungle. The skink patrols now moving in inspected the ruins and found, in what had been the village’s storage, a big crate lined with straw and packed with five Therizinosaur eggs. To restore the order and make the Therizinosaurs feel at ease again the Skinks transported the eggs back to their nests just beyond the treeline. And to this day no more warmbloods come to this side of the jungle.”
Tak’ek Muntoc stopped to notice the bland face of Qu’ Tuazl.
“So that is why we are grateful towards the Therizinosaurs on this day!” he over emphasized with his hands. The blandness of Qu’ Tuazl’s face faded. “We better bring them this year’s tribute then.”
After a last mile they dropped the bag at the jungle’s edge. Unfolding the leaves and revealing the tribute, consisting of a variety of fruits, plants and flowers. Both of the skinks stepped back about twenty feet and waited quietly. They didn’t have to wait long before a pair of Therizinosaurs was attracted by the tribute and started eating. As Qu’ Tuazl and Takék Muntoc turned around to go home a few younger Therizinosaurs joined.
Jungle surrounding Tlaxtlan, Lustria
8th of Jahrdrung, 1549 IC/1.17.10.5.15.18. 11 Etz’nab’ 1 Xul
On the east side of the vast and dense jungle, just before the spectral blue that is the great ocean, laid a glistering coast with little to none high vegetation. From the point where the waves crush upon the coastline to the jungle’s edge, roughly three miles land inwards, stretched a sandy plain, now resting in the morning sunlight.
A couple of miles beyond the jungle’s edge, two skinks walked slowly between the trees dragging a large bag mad out of palm leaves behind them. “How much further do you think we need to go, Tak’ek Muntoc?”
“The priest said to drop it off at the beginning of the sand plains, so it will be at least two more miles.”
“I sure hope it will be possible for us to move back in time.” Said Qu’ Tuazl nervously.
Tak’ek Muntoc looked at him and nodded: “The more reason to pull a bit harder.”
They dragged the bag for a mile more in silence, purely focusing on the task at hand. It was Qu’ Tuazl again that broke the silence: “I still don’t completely understand why we are doing this.”
“What is there to understand? This is a tradition that we practice year in year out.”
“I know that much, but are we doing this just because it is a tradition? What is the reason this is a tradition? I mean, not that I am ungrateful for being one of the chosen for this year’s tribute duty, but why are we doing this exactly?”
Tak’ek Muntoc stopped and let go of the bag. “Well okay, sit down and listen!” he replied agitated. After taking a couple of deep and calming breaths he continued: “You are familiar with the history of the arrival of the warmbloods at our doorstep, I presume?” He looked over to his spawning brother and continued without expecting an answer to his rhetorical question. “It all started fifty-seven years ago in this very region. Not long after the warmbloods had set foot on, what they now refer to as, Colombo’s Island. The settlement of Santa Magritta was just formed and consisted only of one dock and three houses.
Although small in numbers, the warmbloods did not keep to the island alone. Soon they travelled along the Scorpion’s Coast to discover new places and resources.
So it came to be that on the sandy plain beside the jungle the activities and voices of the warmbloods filled the air. Houses were built and soil was prepared to start farmlands.
Skink patrols set out more frequently to keep a close eye on the situation and reported back to Tlaxtlan.
The warmbloods, that settled, spawned warmbloods that were adventurous. The later were more curious in nature than the first and even made trips into the jungle.
The observing patrols were pulled further back to avoid confrontation. The Slann did not find the warmbloods worthy of interaction in any way, shape or form.
Loud noises of the breaking of wood and disrupting of earth however alerted them that something was going wrong. The patrols of skinks rushed forward inspect and stand at the ready to protect the jungle from destruction. When they arrived at the jungle’s edge they noticed that the jungle didn’t need protection, but that the jungle provided protection itself. A pair of Therizinosaurs had emerged from their safe cover of vegetation and roamed freely in the village, breaking down houses and killing warmbloods that did not manage to get away in time. Those that did, gathered at the coastline and franticly reached for the boats. They rowed back to Santa Magritta.
In the aftermath of the rampage the Therizinosaurs kept walking around the once village and did not move back to the jungle. The skink patrols now moving in inspected the ruins and found, in what had been the village’s storage, a big crate lined with straw and packed with five Therizinosaur eggs. To restore the order and make the Therizinosaurs feel at ease again the Skinks transported the eggs back to their nests just beyond the treeline. And to this day no more warmbloods come to this side of the jungle.”
Tak’ek Muntoc stopped to notice the bland face of Qu’ Tuazl.
“So that is why we are grateful towards the Therizinosaurs on this day!” he over emphasized with his hands. The blandness of Qu’ Tuazl’s face faded. “We better bring them this year’s tribute then.”
After a last mile they dropped the bag at the jungle’s edge. Unfolding the leaves and revealing the tribute, consisting of a variety of fruits, plants and flowers. Both of the skinks stepped back about twenty feet and waited quietly. They didn’t have to wait long before a pair of Therizinosaurs was attracted by the tribute and started eating. As Qu’ Tuazl and Takék Muntoc turned around to go home a few younger Therizinosaurs joined.
