Contest April-May 2023 Short Story Contest Voting Thread

The theme for our 34th seasonal short story contest, provided by @killer, was "War and Peace"

Please read all four 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: "The Concept"

The Concept


The most important rooms in the Great Pyramid-Temple of Itza were of course the Star Chambers - the innermost sanctums of the Mage Priests, where the mightiest slann passed away the eons in sublime contemplation of the universe, the Great Plan, and the deepest truths of existence.

The most essential room in the Pyramid-Temple, meanwhile, was the War Chamber: a less esteemed but infinitely more useful situation room where the Lizardmen's leaders discussed and strategised their many campaigns, battles, and operations against the endless enemies of the Old Ones. From this single room, the cold-blooded legions of Lustria were marshelled and commanded, sent forth to defend the sacred sites and wreak vengeance on those who defiled them. The War Chamber was where the highest-priority orders were given, where the grandest strategies were proposed, and where ultimately, decisions were made by generals and field commanders, while their lords the Mage-Priests cogitated elsewhere in their transcendental reveries.

The War Chamber had been in continuous use, night and day, for over four thousand years.

Into it rushed a messenger skink. With a quick salute that sent its decorative feathers trembling, it passed a communications plaque to the highest ranking general in the room: a grizzled, grey-scaled Old Blood. The saurus scanned the message, then passed it to a Veteran lieutenant.

"Looks like there's a priest over in the Ten Thousand and First Division who wants an audience. Something about a plaque recovered in Axlotl."

"A new plaque?" chirped a Skink Chief. "Better hear what they have to say."

An elderly priest was escorted into the War Chamber by a pair of hulking guards. The diminutive skink gave a painful-looking bow.

"Thank you for seeing me, my Lords. You may be aware that my company recently drove a tribe of beastmen from the sacred ruins of Axlotl. Investigating the site, we discovered a well-preserved underground temple containing a single plaque clearly matching those written by the Old Ones before they left this world."

Dozens of high-ranking lizards around the room gasped. The atmosphere was suddenly electric. Several voices cried out, but the grey Old Blood silenced them with a raised claw. It gestured for the priest to continue.

"I will pass over the long deliberations held among the temple scholars. In brief, the plaque states that the Lizardmen should seek to achieve a state of peace."

"A state of what?" asked a lower-ranked general.

"Peace. Throughout Lustria, and the world."

"Is that an arcane term? Something technical, for wizards?"

The old priest coughed nervously.

"Ah, no. Peace is the concept of an end to war."

The various commanders shared a series of bemused glances. Finally the Old Blood spoke up. "Forgive us, learned priest, but we are not familiar with this concept. An end to war - what you say makes no sense. You may as well say that there is no enemy."

The priest chirped in annoyance. "Look, it's quite simple. If you stop fighting a war, then you have peace. No more fighting, no more battles."

The general nodded its scarred head. "Ah yes, a pause in a campaign, to regroup or wait for winter. Or to draw the enemy into a more favourable theater."

"No! You stop fighting, permanently! You don't need an army at all, all your hostilities cease. Surely you can grasp the idea!"

There was a much longer pause this time. More looks were shared. Some generals looked embarrassed at their ignorance. Others looked offended, or impatient. As the long silence stretched on, everyone became very aware of the small noises in the room. A fly was buzzing somewhere near the ceiling.

The Old Blood had its chin in one of its claws. Its scales were furrowed on its forehead in furious concentration. Finally, the general exhaled angrily.

"No, I'm afraid I don't understand it at all. If you stop fighting, permanently, how would you attack the opponent? Where would you send all our fighting lizards? How would you defeat Lustria's enemies?"

"When there's peace, you don't have enemies!" hollered the priest. "This isn't a difficult concept. Peace is when you've finished all the wars, the enemies agree not to fight any more and they're no longer enemies."

"But that makes no sense!" returned the Veteran saurus. "How could you -"

The Old Blood interrupted. "No wait, I think I have it. You're saying that this plaque, written by the Old Ones, is telling us to make peace?"

"Yes!" cried the priest.

"And peace is when the wars are ended?"

"Yes! Exactly!"

"And there's no more fighting?"

"Yes!"

"So we have a period with no battles..."

"Yes!"

"When we can build up our forces in preparation for annihilating all who stand against us!" finished the general, beaming around the room triumphantly.

The skink priest covered its face with its claws. But it straightened at the sound of all the officers in the room snapping to attention. Looking up, the priest saw a bulbous shape hovering in the large stone doorway of the War Chamber. A slann had woken, and come to council.

"Report," croaked the Mage-Priest. "What's all the commotion I just heard?"

All eyes swiveled to the skink priest.

"Ah, Most Serene One," it stammered. "I was just informing the War Chamber of a sacred plaque recovered in Axlotl. It contains the Old Ones' commandment of world peace."

The slann bowed its head in thought. "How fascinating," it murmured. "And I expect these old soldiers had no idea what you even meant."

"I'm afraid not, Oh Wise One," said the venerable skink, practically melting with relief. "It seems it's a foreign concept to them."

"Well it was very noble of you to try to educate them, and I'm sorry if your efforts were in vain. Never fear, I'll take it from here."

"I'm greatly pleased to hear it," said the priest.

"Yes, it takes a higher intelligence to understand the concept of peace," continued the slann. "You and I both know it's perfectly simple. Peace is when you have obliterated the last of your enemies so that the very memory of their existence passes from the universe."

As the skink gawped, the slann turned to the expectant officers of the War Chamber. "Let us proceed, my good lizards."

Spoiler: Story Two: Fire Within and Fire Without

Fire Within and Fire Without


Suddenly all sounds grew silent. Xithu-otl found himself submerged, floating beneath a liquid surface. Although freezing cold, the equal pressure from all sides gave him the impression of weightlessness.
Xithu-otl was extracted from the heat of battle that was roaring above him. His thoughts transported him back to the first time he felt like this: a lifetime ago, he did recall having witnessed light for the first time. Coming at him from the other side of the surface that separated him from the world above.

The difference this time was his inner motivation. Back then eagerness to discover the other side, now a burning flame to right the wrongs and fight the foes of the Great Plan.

The flame took hold of his mind and body, spreading a warm fire through his every vein and muscle. It activated him to emerge through the surface once again.
At the breaking of the water all sounds came over him like a waterfall.
The roaring and hissing of lizards, dinos, deamons and bloodletters made the air vibrate and the earth tremble. Hellfire and dark magic was answered with javelin showers and Star power.
Climbing from the freezing water Xithu-otl took position beside the closest Engine of the Gods. Charging from it's eternal energies he conjured a magic shield around a unit of Skins with blowpipes to give them at least one or two more volleys of poisonous darts.

Fifty feet to his right a giant cloud of ash and smoke poured down from the sky. The smell of sulfur and charcoal instantly clogged his nostrils, causing him to drop his spell.
From within the dark cloud a set of wings spanned wide and an ax came forth slicing through a unit of hardened Saurus Warriors like a sacrificial knife through a rat-man's throat.
Xithu-otl looked over his shoulder at the Polar Gate, only a mile away by now. It was still untouched by Chaos. Guarded by a dozen priests, both retaining a magic shield and others preparing a destruction spell for if the worst was to come.

The sudden burst of air and sound of flapping wings brought Xithu-otl's attention back to his right flank as the greater deamon took to the sky. Two flocks of Ripperdactyls swept down at it without hesitation. Two-third of them ended up on the ground trampled by the deamon's hooves when he was forced back down from the impact. One of his wings was damaged so heavily that he discarded it with his own ax.
No longer able to fly he brutally stormed forward through the ranks of lizards swingend his ax left and right whilst simultaneously conjuring a fireball with his other hand. The blazing ball of hellish fire struck the magic shield around the portal. A dome of blue energy flickered as the flames got deflected in different directions. The knees of two of the priests buckled under the impact of the clash. The shield might not hold long under many more of those hits.

Xithu-otl started hastily moving backwards to the gate keeping constant visual on the greater deamon. Halfway he paused to take a deep breath, turned an open hand towards the fiend and projected magic missiles directly at him. Four of them hit him, two on his chest, one in his armpit and one on his neck. Spitting out his last foul words he was blasted asunder. Xithu-otl sounded a sigh of relief, leaning on his staff he waited a couple of seconds to regain some strength.
Above him the gray cloudy sky showed five streams of dark heavy clouds pouring down towards the icy waste lands.

Around Xithu-otl fellow skins and sauri paused their movements awaiting the obvious thread that was coming. The first one struck down about one and a half miles to his left: another greater deamon. The second one three miles in front of him. Just before the dark clouds hit the ground a horde of juggernauts swarmed the field, a stream without end.
The third came down out of sight, the last two streams poured down behind him. In anticipation he ran further towards the gate. He reached it just before a greater deamon and a deamon prince stepped forth out of the gathered darkness. Both had their enchanted weapon drawn, ready to strike.
On the top of his lungs Xithu-otl screamed: "destroy the gate! Don't let them reach it!" Behind him the magic shield pulsed for a last time as the last defensive priests fell to the ground.

With his eyes closed Xithu-otl directed all of his energy at the gate along with the four remaining priests. The ground trembled as the deamons came closer. With his last energy drained Xithu-otl fell to his knees. In front of him the stone structure of the gate cracked and broke in pieces. The gateway flickered twice before it imploded completely. The shockwave of the implosion knocked him over. Again the sounds of battle died away as Xithu-otl took his last breath and closed his eyes, the flame inside quenched.

...

Finally inner peace.

Spoiler: Story Three: "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…”

Spoiler: Story Four: "Purpose"

Purpose


The moons gazed down over the Temple City, the lighter moon in dominance bathed the city in its white glow. The night was humid, filled with the croaks of night birds and the buzzing and clicks of Lustria’s many nocturnal insects. Atop the main temple pyramid an elderly Skink sat cross-legged. His scaled skin was gnarled and weathered like an ancient twisted tree covered in part by a faded feather cloak inlaid with golden charms and jewels. His staff of office lay silently to his side.

Iluikakonetl’s eyes were closed as he sifted through his memories and braced himself for the visits he was to make with the prisoners as decreed by the Slann, Lord Tamasolli.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It had been a time of peace for many turnings of the sun. No raids had come from the realm of the Dark Elves to the North, there had been no incursion by the ratfolk in generations, and the wards maintained by the Slann had held strong and so many had forgotten the terror of a daemonic incursion.

In this period the Skinks had worked tirelessly with the Sauri and Kroxigor to repair and maintain areas of the city that time and forgotten war had sought to ruin. The fruit harvests were bountiful and the stars showed good omens for a long time to come.

It was at the height of this era of peace that a strange cohort of Sauri emerged from the spawning pools. They were aggressive and prepared for war, their minds feral and maddened.

At first it was seen as an omen, that war would soon come to the temple city. The other Sauri prepared for imminent battle whilst the priests scryed the stars and consulted the sacred tablets. But no enemy came. The days stretched into weeks, weeks into months, but still peace reigned.

The aggressive spawned Sauri were restless and barely kept under control. Letting them loose in the jungle surrounding the city only served to reduce the local wildlife population, to the effect of even greater peace. What made matters worse was the Sauri had seemed to become more and more aggressive for all their decimation of Lustria’s wildlife.

Finally, something gave and the aggressive spawned Sauri in their maddened frenzy broke the bonds of brotherhood and duty and descended into murdering their kin. Many were slain before the maddened Sauri were killed or subdued.

As Iluikakonetl was about to give the order to slay the mad Sauri the momentarily roused voice of Mage Priest Tamasolli echoed in their minds ordering them to stop and bind the Sauri instead.

For there was purpose for them in the Plan.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Several enchanted gems of great antiquity embedded within carved stone walls bathed the chamber with a dim blue light. Chains of starmetal were pulled taut as the prisoner’s body lurched towards the elderly Skink Priest. Iluikakonetl looked at the Saurus with eyes filled with deep sorrow and regret.

Ignoring the prisoner’s hisses and snarls, he slowly eased himself to the stone floor and sat before the chained Saurus. He was quiet for a long time as if waiting to see if the madness consuming the prisoner would fade.

It did not.

If Iluikakonetl was surprised by this, he gave no sign.

At last he spoke.

“There is purpose for you. The Mage Priest knows it.”

Iluikakonetl’s voice echoed from the chamber walls, repeating the words ‘knows it’ like a mantra.

The Saurus gave no reply and continued to strain at the chains.

“Often, I have wondered how much the Old Ones designed us for war. I do not believe it was their original intention, but a product of necessity...maybe a contingency...”

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

“But what use is a thing solely of war when there is peace? Where do you fit in the Plan where there seems to be no purpose or place at this time? Are we to keep you and your surviving spawn brothers in chains until war does come?”

The Saurus snarled, ropy drool dripping down to splatter on the stone floor below.

“Maybe if you kill enough the madness will leave you, that you will no longer be driven to kill and kill and kill.”

The Skink Priest opened his eyes.

“But we both know that will not happen. The lust for death, the lust for bloodshed...it will only grow. Were it not for the Mage Priest’s foresight of the Plan, you would already have been granted the peace of death. No, there is purpose for you and your spawn brothers.”

For the briefest of moments the maddened rage-filled eyes of the Saurus seemed to clear.

Iluikakonetl tilted his head slightly, the fins of his head crest catching the glow of the light giving gems and deepening the shadows across his face.

“You are wondering why I am here.”

The Saurus gave a half snarl that ended with a hissing grunt.

The Skink Priest narrowed his eyes and was quiet for a long moment.

“There are two reasons. The first as decreed by Lord Tamasolli was to gauge how much of you and your brothers were more than just maddened beasts. The second was to let you know, whether you can comprehend it or not, that you are still our kin. If it becomes necessary to grant you death it will be with a heavy heart. Despite the madness afflicting you, despite the blood of our kin you have shed, despite the sorrow and shame you bring to our hearts...you are still our brother.”

The Saurus was oddly quiet as Iluikakonetl rose to his feet and left the chamber. Whether the elderly priest acknowledged this change as he left, he gave no indication.

In the dim glow of the chamber the prisoner sat alone with his madness and his thoughts. Sometime later a pair of Skinks would appear and thrust a piece of meat on a long pole for him to consume. He would snarl and pull at the chains and they would quail and hurry away once their duties were complete.

The Saurus looked up to where the Skink Priest had departed. For the moment the bloodlust and the anger drained from him. He tried to speak, tongue and jaw trying to make sound.

Alone in his prison he managed to speak a single word.

“...Brother...”

 

Story One: "The Concept" by @thedarkfourth

Story Two: "Fire Within and Fire Without" by @Imrahil

Story Three: "Warriors and Gardeners" by @Killer Angel

Story Four: "Purpose" by @Y'ttar Scaletail


The winner, by way of a run-off vote, is Y'ttar Scaletail!

Thanks to everyone who entered, voted, and/or critiqued.

 

It never is.

 

yep.
4 stories, 4 votes. le'ts say we'll have at least a fifth (@Scalenex), but i would like to double it.

@Y'ttar Scaletail reviews are great, i need to write something myself.

 

Scalenex's Reviews

A little late to the party as I've had my mind in Earth and Scarterra more than Lustria this month, but I've finally posted my reviews. I have written these without reading the other reviews, so as not to influence my reviews. If there is overlap that is probably because a story impacted me similarly to another person.

Story One, "The Concept": Excellent adherence to the theme. I saw the ending coming, but it's not a problem if a short story is predictable and the execution was well done as was the pacing.

My misgivings are minor. There were a couple typos here and there. More importantly, the characters, especially the Saurus characters, sounded a bit too similar to modern humans for my tastes. I'd more prefer more "lizard" and less "man" in the dialogue but that is a personal preference.

Story Two, "Fire Within and Fire Without": An interesting take on the theme. Very excellent battle descriptions. The writer took a risk making a Slann the point of view character but that risk seemed to pay off. The Slann was both satisfyingly otherworldly and relatable at the same time.

Minor misgivings. Could have used more spacing and editing. The wording at the end was rang a little weird to me. I understand death is a sort of "eternal peace" but I always considered it to be separate from "inner peace". I always thought you had to be alive and active in order to have "inner peace" because inner peace requires some conflicting outer. If you are not part of a wider world, inner peace is just regular peace isn't it? Then again, my knowledge of inner peace is mostly limited to the Kung Fu Panda franchise which despite what Scolenex says, is probably not the greatest fiction franchise ever made.

Story Three, "Warriors and Gardeners": A nice take on the theme and the dichotomy therein. The cerebral kroxigor is something you don't see much but it works for this story.

My misgiving is similar to most, a lot of typos and blocky formatting that is not easy on the eyes. The other two weren't great, but this the lack of editing was more jarring. Was it typed on a phone? I don't really have any problem with the story content, just the format though a bit more exposition for how and why a kroxigor became a wise counselor would not be amiss.

Story Four, "Purpose": This piece was well polished. All things considered, I care more about story content than editing but this seems like the only piece with solid editing and that is normally a rare problem in these contests.

But this piece had a lot more positive things going for it. It had, in my opinion the cleverest premise in this round of the contest. The piece also captured the dichotomy between man and lizard, between holiness and savagery. This is a useful characterization tool in any story about Lizardmen but in this case it was the foundation of the whole story.

I cannot really poke any holes in this. No complaints. If I really push myself I can make one minor complaint. It sort of violated "show don't tell" with lots of labeling of "being savage" but not a whole lot of examples other than brief second hand accounts though I'm not entirely sure if a first hand visceral account of savagery would derail the tone of the story.

 

well well well...
if this is not a close race, i don't know what it could be.


clearly the merit goes to the theme!

 

Indeed.