Fiction Killer Angel's short stories

Warriors and Gardeners
(april-may 2023, theme was "War and Peace" ; this story was 3rd on 4)

Some stats:
this was my 22th story in this competition, and my 10th consecutive podium.

Spoiler: Warriors and Gardeners

Warriors and Gardeners

I am Kai-Loq, the Oldblood.
Let me tell you about Khutak, the kroxigor. He was a kroxigor as many others, until the final day of the great battle for the geomantic web. When the Great Pylons activated, finally closing the Warp Rift, immense magical energies were released. Mountains went shattered, entire armies vanished in a moment, and the essence of many things changed forever. Khutak was among the latter.
Some said he was an abomination, some other that he was blessed by the Old Ones. Either way, there was no one like him…



The morning sun was warming the large steps of the temple pyramid, wrapped in a light mist produced by the humidity of the night that was inexorably evaporating. The birds-of-paradise songs greeted what promised to be a hot day.
On one of the upper terraces, facing the morning sun, the heat was becoming pleasantly intense. Khutak was working on his stone garden. The massive kroxigor was wearing a linen tunic, and moved with calm attention among the arabesques of the garden, occasionally moving the stones.
Today, the rounded, white pebbles made a galaxy with spiral arms extending from the central core; nebulae of gray gravel enveloped the resplendent white, and at the edges, nuclei of black obsidian at times sucked in the sunlight, and at times returned it with dazzling force, according to the orientation of the smooth faces.
The statue of the Old One Xokha, which once stood on the large parapet, facing the city, long ago had been moved and turned, so that it did not cast shadow on the terrace and at the same time contemplated the garden (moving the statue had created some confusion among the skink priests, but a decree by Lord Tehupacli himself had given free reign to Khutak to do whatever he pleased on that terrace, so the statue was left in its new position).

Khutak would have liked to sit and contemplate the garden. It was now encapsulating a moment of clarity and beauty, that would have been gone when, fatally, the symmetry with the stars would have ceased. Everything changes, and beauty is to follow the flow of changes, to guide this flow in an ordinary pattern. Armony toward enthropy. Such a beautiful concept to ponder on… but this was not the time. More mundane tasks were at hand.
He couldn't see them yet, but he could hear them. The claws on the stone of a saurus warriors, preceded by the delicate steps of the attendant skink who was escorting through the pyramid. The saurus had a impetuous step, you could feel the repressed emotions. Kai-Loq, the young leader of the third regiment of the eastern spawn.

And indeed, here he was. Kai-Loq. The skink acolyte bowed formally.
“Revered Khutak, I hereby…”
“Thank you. No need to waste the officier’s time with protocol. I’ll take care of our guest”
The skink bowed again, and retreated out of sight. Khutak knew he would have remained in the vicinity.

Kai-Loq approached the massive kroxigor, grinning while doing so.
“Today you won't make fun of me. Today you will learn to respect those who are your superior by rights of spawning”.
“Bold words. In this place, I’m not only your teacher, but I am your commander. You came here too soon.”
“I came at the exact time I was to be here!”
“Which nonetheless is too soon. Now wait”.

Khutak knelt slowly. One of the stones was out of place. He moved it slightly, then again, and again, and again, finally returning it to its original position. He began to look at him from another angle.
Then he looked almost absently Kai-Loq. He was standing still, apparently at attention... but he was unable to control the imperceptible shaking of his tail, nor to stifle the pheromones of the fight.
The saurus’ nostrils flared.
“Permission to speak, Sir!”
Khutak rose on his feet.
“Denied. There’s a time for words, and a time for action. You cannot speak if your mind is set on war. Your words would be clouded by blood. Words must come from a crystal mind.”
“Then make me fight!”
“We have already begun. Follow me”

The kroxigor moved across the stone galaxy, toward a dark side. In a corner, outside the border of the garden, there was a table with a map and a series of tokens.
“As you can see, we are fighting near the Realm of Shadows. You are commanding a host of warriors and 3 knights’ squadrons, and you have the support of salamanders. Your opponent is a force of undead. They hold this fortified line and you know how their units are placed, thanks to your terradons scouting. However, you also know they have a certain amount of reserves, probably a couple of elite units and a commander, but you have no idea where they are. Show me how you are going to assault this position.”

Kay-Loq looked at the map, pondering his options. Both the left and the right flank were filled by tokens, representing the undead troops. Behind the main line, there were the overturned tokens… the reserve forces. Some of those tokens would have been empty, so it was a matter to guess where the reinforcements were placed.
He focused his attention to the main line…the right flank was stronger, the troops were more numerous and they could easily bog down his cavalry in a prolonged combat. And the overturned tokens on the right, were placed near to the front units, increasing the sensation of a threatening flank.
The left flank was weaker. Sure, there were several units, but each was made up by a few undead. the cavalry units would have slammed into them, eliminating them one by one, while the slow-moving troops on the right flank could not help.
It was so inviting… However, even if the overturned tokens in the rear were kept at a greater distance, those tokens were exactly in place for a countercharge.

“You want me to attack the left flank, but I saw your trap. You know what? I’m gonna crush the right flank… your skeletons will slow me, but they have not the strenght to cut down my sauri, and i have the support of the salamanders. Let’s do this fight, your reserves are on the left, too far to help a fight on the right, and when they will be here, my knights will be already free, ready to dictate their charge.”
Khutak looked at the map, silently.
“Come on, teacher. Are you unhappy? Didn't I bite your bait? Lord Tehupacli may let you live in the pyramid, but I am a Saurus warrior, and you are not”.

Khutak sighed, and turned the tokens on the left.
They were empty.

“Unfortunately for you, near the realm of Shadows things are rarely what they seem. Even the traps.”
Khutak turned the tokens on the right. The reserves were there.
“The necromancer raises the casualties you inflicted on those skeletons. The Grave Guards pile in directly on your knights.”

Kai-Loq fell to his knees. He clawed at the edge of the table, looking at the map and the meat grinder in which he had thrown his troops to die.
“Again… you did it again…”
“Yes. Do you wanna know why you losed?”
“No. The teachings of a lesson don’t matter in the next one. Each time you fight differently. Each time the result is the same. I don’t deserve my rank”.
“Don’t say nonsense. Do you wanna know why you losed? The real reason why you keep losing?”

Kai-Loq looked at Khutak directly in his eyes.
“Yes. Please”.
“Because you are obsessed by your opponent. Me, in this case. You want to demonstrate that you are better. Stop it. It clouds your judgement. There’s only one thing worse than a commander that don't take decisions. A commander that takes the decisions the enemy wants.”
“You tried to guess what my plan was, you tried to play me. That’s a good attitude, but it will be your final goal. First, you must master yourself. Learn caution, as no plan survives the contact with the enemy. Learn how to adapt, improvise and overcome. Up ‘til now I’ve teached you defeat. Every commander must know defeat, so that he will be able to recognize it from afar. The next time, i want you to show me how really good you are.”

Kai-Loq rose, and nodded.
“Aye Sir. I will do it.”
Khutak made a gesture.
“I expect no less. Now you can go”.
Khutak watched the young officer moving toward the exit. The skink acolyte was already there.

“Khutak, you really should lead troops in battle”
The High Priest Kilipak had entered by one of the inner doors and had watched the final part of the training session, keeping his distance, and was only now approaching.
“There’s no need for my talents on the field. I’d rather stay here, in my stone garden”
“I respectfully disagree”
“You know? the warmbloods have a saying: it’s better to be a warrior in a garden than a gardener in a war”

Kilipak blinked several times, trying to focus on the weird concept.
“It makes no sense. Warriors make war, gardeners tend the harvest. Why should you mix the two things?”
"Because the warmbloods don't follow the Great Plan, and don't know that everything has its place"
"They don't, but you do! A warrior in a garden is wrong"
“I certainly agree with you”
“Then why are you here? You clearly are a warrior”
“Because, my friend, it all depends on the kind of crop you are growing…”

 

Lycanthrope Blues (summer 2023 poetry duel - lost 4 votes vs 5)

Spoiler: Lycanthrope Blues

LYCANTHROPE BLUES

When the chaos moon shines in the dark
Deep inside me, it ignites a spark
I can feel as it stirs, right under my skin
something awakened by that malignant green

I remember the day, when fate rolled a dice
bitten by Moulder’s mutated, twisted mice
the packmaster cried “a new curse you will bear!”
of the truth of these words, I was not yet aware

I feel the fur, growing between my scales
I feel the blood, pumping through my veins
and I wonder if I am a sort of a new breed
but the thought is now gone, as I just need to feed

…
the scent, the stealth, the chase
a cry, a shield, a mace
the blood, the flesh, the taste
so good, again, with haste
…

When I’m again myself, the night has bygone
but from dusk to dawn, what have i done?
my scales and my claws are covered by gore
a child of the Old Ones, I know I’m no more

As always I think “if I could erase the past…”
but I laugh at myself, I know the truth at last
cause I’m addicted to this dream, I’m lucidly insane
as I now only crave, for the moon to rise again

Comment by @Y'ttar Scaletail , the author of the other poem:

 

The Nightbringer
(July - August 2023, theme was "Hidden in plain sight" and this was the winning story on 4)

Updated stats:
this was my 23th story in this competition and the 8th victory.

Spoiler: The Nightbringer

THE NIGHTBRINGER


The Teacher
"Chaos is our enemy. Every threat we face is driven by a single thing…. Chaos."
The skink priest looked at the class. Almost fifty skinks had their eyes fixed on him… acolyte priests, scouts, scribes. Every one of them was giving him full attention. It's always satisfying when no student lets itself be distracted by flies or the pleasant rays of the sun.
"On a certain level you all know the four Gods of Chaos, their fields of influence and the danger of their corruption."
Many skinks' heads nodded in acknowledgment.
"But these daemons are not the first chaotic threat to the Great Plan. Before Chaos manifested in its true form, even before we were created, there were different entities… sworn enemies of the Slanns. They were called the C'Tan."
"These creatures were not made of Chaos, but derived their powers from it. They wanted to feed from the energies of the stars and the souls of the living beings. They held a strength capable of erasing entire planets, but their weapons were also deception, treachery and subterfuge. As the Chaos daemons, each one of them was a master in a particular field of expertise… and the most dangerous of them was called The Nightbringer."
A hand was raised.
"But Teacher Qui-Chin… I've heard that these so called C'tan are no more since millennia. Is that true? and if so, why should we study them?".
"That's a good question. Are they no more? They are mentioned in the ancient plaques… and time is fickle when you mess with chaos. I think it's better to know our enemies, even the ones that we think are dead. Now, to talk about the Nightbringer, it is said it was cloaked in shadows, and that it was the one with the greater connection to chaos…"

The Acolyte
When the lesson ended, the terradons already stopped chasing the morning ascending air currents. Time literally flew, while listening to the passionate exposition of Qui-Chin.
The acolyte was impressed "I never saw Qui-Chin so involved in an argument, not even during the lessons on the daemons of plague…"
The other students were chattering about the C'Tan, their ancient machinations, their tactics of corruption. Every one of them was clearly left impressed by the lesson.
"Yes, he was very passionate about it…"

The Teacher
The lessons about the C'Tan had been a success, from a professional point of view. Every student had been actively involved, every one of them questioned him.
An inquisitive mind is a mind eager for knowledge. Knowledge is power. They need to know what Chaos is capable of…
"Teacher Qui-Chin? May I have a word with you?"
Qui-Chin stopped his lucubration. In front of him there was a young skink, with the ornamental feathers that qualified him as an acolyte priest, destined to future service in the Vaults of the Ancient Knowledge.
"Acolyte Fren-Shui… what can I do for you?"
"Your lessons are very interesting, but I would like to delve into the topic. Is there some text I could refer to?"
"Again? it's not the first time you're asking me something more. You already have what's needed… further details could be redundant. After all, the C'Tan are only a very hypothetical threat."
"Yes but… please?".
An inquisitive mind is a mind eager for knowledge.
"mmm… I could grant you access to a couple of books I've used as references. After all, one day you will have to guard our Vaults. I will prepare a letter".

The Acolyte
Fren-Shui was finally in the Vaults. Yes, he could not have accessed the Vaults, the request was for the books, a consecrated priest should have given them to Fren-Shui.
It had been necessary to forge the permit a little. It had been risky, but it was the only way.
Fren-Shui looked at the two useless books in front of him. Then he looked at the corridors that gave the access at the most secret volumes and artefacts.
Now, my teacher, let's see what you real references are, and why you're so enamoured with these C'Tan…

The Teacher
"…and this is why the warmbloods are so susceptible to the lures by the deamons of pleasure. Now, I hope you will study your notes, because the next time you will be questioned."
The students rose and begun to leave the hall, discussing the lesson.
A brilliant class. The next leaders will know Chaos, and all its fascinating promises.
Qui-Chin moved toward the exit. Maybe he didn't noticed the pair of eyes fixed on his back.

The Acolyte
Fren-Shui looked at the teacher that was going away.
Teacher? yes, maybe you are a teacher… but what kind of teaching you're insinuating in us? I've read some of the ancient text, and not even all of them. Not the most obscure ones, the ones that you've learned. You were right… the Nightbringer cloaks itself in shadows, so that no one can see it.
Fren-Shui was filled by frustration and bitterness.
I've tried to talk with a couple of friends, the ones more open minded. I was forced to mimic irony, but nonetheless they refuses to see it… they don't correlate the passion when you were talking about the C'Tan and your indifference when you treat the chaos gods. They don't see behind your mask, even when I show them all the clues. What did you say? "creatures born from chaos always reveal themselves, but creatures that embraced it can hide its influence".
Fren-Shui was alone, and the rays of the sun were not able to warm his soul.
You are a prominent skink in our temple city. I'm just an acolyte. Dear Old Ones, what can I do?

The Teacher and the Acolyte
Qui-Chin was used to receive students in his chambers, especially the most brilliant ones; the saurus guards were used to this behavior, so they paid no particular attention to this particular student.
Qui-Chin was very surprised when Fren-Shui drew a dagger that was hidden in his vest, stabbing him… again, and again, and again.
Unable to cast a spell, all he could do was cry for help, gurgling in his own blood while the student raised the dagger for another furious stab.
Fren-Shui did not stop when his teacher was clearly dead, nor when the guards broke into the chamber. He knew the shards of the C’Tan could live after the apparent dead of the C’Tan itself, so he could not take a risk with one of their servants.
Old Ones, I will be killed for this. But at least You know… please accept my spirit and let me swim again in the spawning pools.
The weapons of the guards descended on him.

The High Priest and the Keeper of the Vaults
The high ranking skinks were in one of the inner chambers of the Temple. What happened had had dramatic repercussions on the daily life of the city, and the planning of the activities had been upset. It was vital to keep things quiet as much as possible, and give a… tranquilizing explanation to what happened, something that would allow the muddy waters to clear.
“So, this is it?”
“Yes. The acolyte entered the Vaults thanks to an altered request, apparently bribed by himself. The guardian failed to notice it”
“…and he put his eyes on forbidden texts. The ones capable to alter a weak mind.”
“It won’t happen no more, revered High Priest. From now on, any access to the Vaults will be granted only by me.”
“Yes. But now we’ll have to mourn the loss of a great Priest and a promising student. Because we weren’t paying enough attention.”
“He was just a student among many other ones… who would have thought that something was eroding its sanity? Who could have knew?”
The High Priest gave a bitter smile.
“It is said that in those books still lies a spark of the ancient C’Tan. If that’s true, the Nightbringer knew”

Well, i wanted to do a story like this one, with the usual interference by chaos (Tzeentch?)... but it sounded too clichè, with no real new element. I wanted something original.
Suddenly i recalled the 40k lore, the war in heaven and the great clash between the C'Tan and the Old Ones.
The C'tan were a perfect new element, a 40k piece that could fit into the ancient lore of the fantasy universe, set before the birth of the lizardmen.
After all, why not? if chaos trascends time, space and dimensions, i could very well imagine a fantasy version of the C'Tan (with the difference that here they lost the war)

the idea was there, i just needed to find a suitable C'Tan as "puppeteer"... and who better than the @NIGHTBRINGER ?
i liked the idea because it came naturally and was functional to the story, and that's the different between a character that works and a character that is forcefully stretched into the narration.
It paid off.


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A matter of Faith
(Jan-feb 2024, theme was "Divine Intervention" ; this story endend at the second place on 4 entries)

Some stats:
this was my 24th story in this competition, and my 12th consecutive podium.

Spoiler: A matter of Faith

A Matter of Faith

The man was wearing a worn tunic and leather boots which in a distant time may have been of reasonable quality. He was bent over the remains of a burnt wagon, and when he stood up he was not at all satisfied.
“A spark hit the black powder in the carriage. The ashes are completely cold, the smoke we saw yesterday must have been the last dying embers”
“Yes, and judging by the maggots on the corpses we were three days late”
The other man was wearing a greenish tunic, which could blend in with the forest background more due to the brown mold stains than the actual color. He was holding a sliver of obsidian in his hand.
“It was the lizard devils.”
"Obvious. I fear that our Constable will have to do without reinforcements from Sudburg."
“Judging by the number of bodies, quite a few survived. the tracks indicate that they went West.”
The first man shrugged and spat on the ground.
“Poor bastards. Let's go back to Port Reaver."

------

The jungle procession proceeded at a steady pace. The long line of bound prisoners moved along the path traced by the dinosaurs who led the march, flanked by saurian warriors. The wounded who had not been able to keep up, had been left behind... and their screams, muffled by the clanking of large jaws, had cast a dark aura of fear among the prisoners. Sergeant Hans had tried to protest, and he was indifferently slaughtered. No one else had complained. Everyone marched to the pace dictated by the lizard devils.


Fortunately, captors’ indifference applied much more widely.
No one seemed to care if the prisoners talked to each other, and soon Father Rutger monopolized the survivors' attention. Litanies that normally echoed in the cathedrals of the Empire now filled the undergrowth of Lustria.
“What is the duty of the faithful?”
“to obey Sigmar's Will”
“What is Sigmar's will?”
“that we fight in His name”
“What is the reward of those who fight in His name?”
"the glory"
“Who will get the Glory?”
“the faithful”
“What is the duty of the Faithful?...”
It was a reassuring thought. The procession of desperate people clung to the hope of those words, to the possibility of still being able to fight in Sigmar's name. All except one.


“I don't mean to pray, Rutger. I need my breath to walk, I won't waste it invoking nothingness."
Night had fallen on the jungle and interrupted the march. The men, exhausted, tried to rest and regain their strength…. not an easy task, tormented as they were by mosquitoes and all the other nocturnal insects to which their captors seemed immune. Only Father Rutger seemed tireless, moving among the men to comfort and encourage them.
“I'm sorry to hear you say that, Karl. You should not give up hope. Sigmar always listens to us.”
He received a laugh in response. "Really? look around. This is hell on earth. Sigmar does not arrive here. There never was."
“I looked around Karl, and I see a beautiful night sky. The stars shine only in the deepest night. When do you think miracles can happen, if not when those who have faith are put to the test in the most dramatic circumstances?”
“The Gods don't care about us, father. We are like ants in their eyes. You are deluded."
“And you are a defeatist. Faith keeps your comrades alive. If you don't want to pray for your salvation, at least don't belittle their courage."
Karl looked bitterly at Father Rutger's back, as he walked away to spread false hopes among the collapsed bodies.
Even if they are still breathing, they are already dead. They would be better off accepting reality and calling upon Morr, rather than Sigmar. Another entity indifferent to our fates, but at least it would be more themed.


The nightmarish march lasted for 10 days. The prisoners, from almost forty had been reduced to half.
The ordeal had dug a wedge between Karl and his companions. Little by little the need to find a reason to survive had imbued men with a religious fervor worthy of a team of flagellants.
Sigmar would send a sign. Sigmar would manifest himself. Sigmar would not abandon them.
The broken nose had taught Karl that it was unwise to doubt salvation.
In the eyes of those who were once his companions, he was a dangerous miscreant. Karl, for his part, had no illusions. This was not a land of gods. It was a land of beasts and savagery and death. And no imperial citizen had ever returned alive from that jungle thanks to divine intervention.


When they finally reached the city at the eleventh dawn, Karl didn't even have the strength to laugh.
The scale and proportions of the buildings were an inconceivable enormity. The outer walls alone were composed of countless blocks, each the size of a war chariot.
Towering stepped pyramids, taller than Altdorf Cathedral stood dotting the landscape, visible through the large fronds of immense centuries-old plants that grew freely in the city... a lush tangle of vegetation which however did not extend even with a single leaf along the immense, perfectly paved avenues, flanked by enormous columns depicting feathered serpents, with fangs as tall as a man.
And if the architecture was inconceivably infernal, the inhabitants of the city completed the nightmare. Winged creatures circled lazily around the tallest pyramids, while countless lizard devils crowded to follow the procession, forming a bizarre multicolored parade, some smaller than Karl, adorned with feathers, moving nimbly around other reptiles as large as a warhorse, crocodiles with arms as thick as the trunk of a small oak tree.
What hope of salvation could there be in that place? What god could manifest himself in the heart of chaos?
We are not even ants. An ant at least can be annoying, but we are nothing.


Although it was a bitter consolation, Karl felt a petty satisfaction in seeing the faith and trust of his companions crumble and weaken little by little. Father Rutger's face became more and more ashen with every step... and even his exhortations had now taken on a different tone, they no longer promised survival.
“Do not be afraid, my brothers. Faith will save our souls”
"If you say so"
"Yes, certainly. Sigmar is walking alongside us."


Growing voices accompanied them to their destination.
The crowd had gathered around a square, adorned with serpentine statues. The center of the square was occupied by a stepped pyramid, just a few meters high, at the top of which stood some small lizard devils, covered with colored feathers, gold ornaments and necklaces with sparkling jewels... pagan priests, evidently.
On the pyramid and all around, simple snakes could also be seen, apparently indifferent to the chaos that reigned around them. The men were made to kneel, and the priests said something to the crowd, which immediately calmed down, starting a sort of unison invocation, alternating with the declamations of the priests on the pyramid. It didn't take a genius to understand that this was a religious ceremony.
“Sigmar certainly won't let his followers be sacrificed to non-existent deities by these superstitious primitives…”
"Shut up…"


Then it began.
Four warriors took the first victim, holding him by the arms and legs and carrying him towards the top of the pyramid. The poor guy was desperately shaking, shouting and jerking with all the strength of desperation, to no avail. Having reached the top, they held him immobile while the priest uttered some litany, then the man was thrown to the ground... and disappeared.
There must have been some sort of well, because the sound of landing was heard after a couple of seconds. For a moment there was silence, then the screaming began. The screams didn't last for long. Father Rutger bowed his head and closed his eyes.
“Sigmar, help us.”


The warriors headed back to the waiting men. The first in line began to agitate, held still by the guards at his side. Karl, far behind, stood up.
"I'm going first! Take me!”
Then he looked hard at Father Rutger.
“I'll show you how a man dies”.
Karl walked steadily towards the warriors who had just descended from the pyramid. The saurians, confused, waded towards their priests, and one of them nodded. They moved aside slightly and let Karl pass, who spontaneously climbed the steps, now accompanied by the towering warriors, almost like a guard of honor. Karl then reached the top of the pyramid and, in fact, a black hole opened in front of him, from which came slow waves of warm humidity, mixed with a strong smell of musk. Karl looked into the priest's eyes… yellow with serpentine pupils. The priest intoned the same short litany.
When he finished, Karl jumped down.


At the bottom of the well there was a stone floor, covered with leaves and dirt and logs. All around, hundreds of snakes were moving slowly, hypnotically. A tangle of serpentine bodies was metodically dismembering the first man's corpse.
For a moment, nothing happened... then from the darkness emerged the head of an enormous reptile, a meter wide, with its eyes fixed on Karl's, while its forked tongue darted out, cutting the air.
Karl couldn't look away… then he felt it. The presence.
Something lurked in those eyes, something ancient, immense and impossible.
A series of images passed through Karl's mind, like a burning meteor… eons of sacrifices. Fangs dripping poison, countless pyramids scattered on this and other worlds, on other universes, infinite scaly bodies connected to a single entity.
Sotek.
And Sotek was there, at that moment. Aware of his presence, through the gaze of the primordial boa that reigned in that cave. And Karl knew that there, in that place, there was a God who recognized him as a living being, a God who was not indifferent, a God who cared about him. A God who craved for his blood, his flesh... and his soul.
It was only then that Karl finally screamed.

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