Contest April-May 2024 Short Story Contest Voting and Reading Thread

The theme for our 38th seasonal short story contest, provided by the co-winners of last contest is "Tactics and Strategy" brought to us by @thedark.

Please read all three 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 "Part of the Team"

Part of the Team

Lush green vegetation and vast areas of treetops stretch at the feet of the mountains to the east. The highest of peaks covered in the eternal snow and yet the forest below is humid of the night air amongst the wild flora and fauna.

As the sun rises at the horizon the damp night is fought back by the rays of light penetrating the canopies. The remainders of nightlife activity retreat together with the fleeing night.

In the relative rest of the early morning a rush of footfalls is heard. A skink rushed forward, heading east, downhill. Once every few steps he looks over his shoulder, left and right, without slowing down.

‘I have to make it! I can make it! just a little longer, just a little further!’ he repeated to himself like a mantra. The vegetation to his left a couple of meters behind him is disturbed by a quick moving subject. To his right another shape caught up with him.

In the trees above him a fellow skink chirped down at him: “Hurry, hurry!! They are catching up! Your lead has faded like the morning dew around you for the rising sun!” He jumped from tree to tree to keep in line with Maqoloktoa, keeping a good view at the scene below, constantly encouraging the skink on the run with increasingly vigorous wording: “you are slacking off now! Keep up your pace or you will not make it!”

The path in front was relatively clear and the gate of the city came into sight. The last twenty meters to the gate the surface was just grass, without the roots and branches to dodge or jump over. Maqoloktoa took a last deep breath to then push for his maximum speed. He felt his legs cramp and knew he couldn’t hold this pace for a long stretch. The gate seemed further than he thought, too far. After five steps on the grass he saw them right and left of him. They swept past him and passed the gatehouse several seconds before him.

As Maqoloktoa ran through the gate he was met with a group of skinks leaning against the wall and the nearest buildings catching their breaths and transpiring their body warmth via open mouths, curled in a smirk the moment he came into sight.

“We beat you again!” stated the biggest and most athletically built skink, “even the head start did not give you enough time to make it to the gate first.” The others chuckle after his remark.

Maqoloktoa looked down in embarrassment and would have blushed if he was able to.

From the gatehouse behind a voice sounds: “I think I have heard and seen enough.” Oxolkekotl, trainer of skink spawnings, since ages past, walked through the gate to observe the current batch of pupils he had been training with the last couple of weeks. Although he had seen many years he still looked agile and athletically built. “Take a rest for now, we will resume training at midday.” The group took a collective sigh of relief and some of the skinks leaning against the stonework let their legs slip from underneath them and glided to the ground to sit in the morning shadows for a couple of minutes.

Maqolokta backed off slowly to the gate looking for a quieter place. As he passed Oxolkekotl he called him over “Maqolokta, walk with me,” side by side they go through the gate, “Thank you for your work today.”

The pupil looked ashamed at the trainer: “work with no result.” he summarized before Oxolkekotl could continue: “please let me transfer to a builders or beast handlers unit. I am not made for the quick response unit. Please sir.”

“On the contrary” was his reply, “your efforts make the rest of the unit stronger. Without you they wouldn't be half as fast and half as strong. Your role in this unit is of most significance.”
“As entertainment for the rest!?”
“They may not see it yet but one day they will”
Maqolokta could not see it happen, he also recognized that further conversation would not convince his trainer otherwise, thus he let it rest.

During the afternoon another attempt at reaching the gate first, with a sizeable head start, led to the same outcome…

Spoiler: Story Two: "The Question"

The Question

Kol-tak, legendary oldblood general of the armies of Zlatlan, hacked his way out of the jungle. He had crossed the great ocean from the Southlands on the back of a gigantic sea turtle, swimming the last hundred miles unassisted, trudged through swamps of clinging ooze, fought off wild carnosaurs, passed over rotting rope bridges spanning dizzying ravines, and single-handedly butchered three hundred disease-riddled skaven who had tried to mug him near Quetza.

After smashing his way past the last impenetrable thicket of vegetation and grasping vines (Kol-tak hadn't bothered using paths), the saurus had finally emerged above the treeline, marking the end of Lustria's spectacular forests. Now he had to climb.

Up and down the mountains he stalked, storming over snow and scree with equal disdain, paying no heed to monsoon or avalanche, frightening away the various monstrous beasts that occasionally thought to investigate whether he was worth eating.

One night, two full years after he'd left Zlatlan, Kol-tak reached a particularly towering mountain with an unusual formation at the top, appearing like a gigantic forked tongue. At the base of this rocky protrusion was a ledge, upon which had been built a beautiful pyramid temple. At the top, under an ornate wooden covering, someone had built a fire, which glowed welcomingly against the starry night.

Beside the fire, Kol-tak found an ancient-looking skink, with wrinkled, leathery skin and eyes clouded with cataracts.

"You have come far, child of the Old Ones," rasped the mysterious skink. "What is it that you seek?"

"I seek the Oracle of the West, who they say can shine the light of wisdom on even the most intractable problems," said Kol-tak

"I have been called such," conceded the Oracle. "Have you brought an offering?"

There was a crackle and a terrible stench as a bundle of rat tails began to sizzle on the fire. The skink sniffed the smoke.

"A most propitious offering," he allowed. "You may sit. Do you have a question for me, young oldblood?"

Kol-tak lowered himself into a crossed-legged pose before the Oracle. He unstrapped his weapons and laid them on the ground between them: a club of tough, blackened wood, and a long pole topped by a shard of obsidian.

"In my land, I am deemed the strongest of warriors," began the oldblood. "The Mage-Priests have entrusted me with leadership over the largest armies of the Southlands. To me falls the defense of the temple cities, and the execution of the ineffable designs of the Old Ones. I have fought in countless battles, and commanded others to fight. I have faced every kind of enemy. I have learned the deepest secrets of military strategy. I have outmaneuvered the most cunning adversaries. I have trained my soldiers in the most effective techniques for each and every situation. But there is one matter on which I have never been able to reach understanding. One single choice where clarity has always eluded me. I have tried each alternative countless times and in countless ways, and yet with all this experience, I still cannot decide which method is superior. And so I have crossed an ocean and a continent to reach you, great Oracle, all to ask you a single question."

The mountaintop seemed to hold its breath, as Kol-tak finished:

"Hand weapon, or spear?"

Spoiler: Story Three: "Friends and Foes"

FRIENDS AND FOES​

High Priest Tek'totiki stood in the Sacred Chamber of Meditation, where Lord Temmu, Master of the Temple-City of Tunk-Xha, normally resided. It had now been almost fifty cycles since Lord Temmu last interacted with the skink priests, but this was the norm.
Also that morning, as he had done for twenty cycles now, Tek'totiki read the weekly reports to his Master. The celestial signs, the activities of the spawning pools, the communications from other temple cities, the reports from the scouts about------ the enemies of the Great Plan, fortunately limited to a series of minor raids by the skaven along the routes of the outer borders.
Satisfied at having once again fulfilled his duty, Tek'totiki headed outwards, to return to the rest of his activities. It was only when he was almost to the door that a voice in his mind startled him.

“Raids of little importance, but particularly coordinated, I would say”
Tek'totiki whirled around, eyes wide. Lord Temmu, floating on his palanquin, had not moved. But his eyes were open.
“Summon Commander Kra-Gar. I have to entrust you with a mission."


The first battle – The swamps of Xo-than

“It’s a trap”
Kra-Gar gazed out over the damp, foggy expanse. Hygrophilous plants stretched as far as the eye could see, surrounding enormous mangroves and bushes of blade grass, the favorite lair of crested anacondas.
The Scar Veteran patted his cold one's side, eyeing skeptically what would normally be a great route for the troops.
“It certainly is, Commander. The enemy is waiting for us, reports of chameleon skinks are clear… or maybe…. it just seems so"
Kra-Gar just stared at Tek'totiki, which was trying to rearrange his thoughts.
“Lord Temmu has divined the enemy's camp. He himself showed us this path. Our cowardly foe, he loves subterfuge. Maybe they are showing us what they were planning for us to see. And perhaps they can deceive our senses, but not those of Lord Temmu"
Kra-Gar nodded.
“Let's move forward, the 3rd cohort will lead the way, I want the salamanders to cover the flanks.”
It was only when half the contingent was already scattered among the mangroves that the air was filled with greenish globes and lightnings; the first saurian screams arose, and with them a cacophony of squeaks from beyond the edge of the tree line. Many more than those predicted by the scouts.
Kra-Gar and Tek-totiki stared at each other, bewildered. It really was a trap.


The second battle – The Southern crossroads

Kra-Gar and Tek'totiki hadn't spoken much since the Xo-tan debacle. The expedition that was supposed to eliminate the threat to the outer borders had turned into a disastrous retreat; the patrols had been called back to reinforce the retreating contingent, and only stopped near the Crossroads.
Tek'totiki could not shake the feeling that he had made a terrible mistake, that he had grossly and incorrectly interpreted Lord Temmu's infallible guidance. And he knew that was Kra-Gar's thinking too, except that he was too disciplined a warrior to hold anything against Lord Temmu’s envoy.
Fortunately, reinforcements from the rear had also arrived, recomposing an army that was now even larger than the one defeated two weeks earlier. The crossroads was a great place to fight; not only was it a strategic point for the communications of the temple city, but precisely because of the converging roads, it was the most natural place to favor the arrival of the enemy, refreshed by the recent victory.
it was only a matter of planning the defense.

“Are you sure you understood it correctly?”
Kra-Gar scratched his head thoughtfully as he stared at the layout of his troops as outlined by Tek'totiki. His question was rhetorical. The Scar Veteran was present when Tek'totiki spoke under a trance, with the Voice of Lord Temmu.
“Is there something bothering you?”
Kra-Gar looked around, making sure the sentries on guard were not too close, then spoke in a low tone.
“Our center is well protected, on the right wing we can respond and reorganize effectively... but the left flank makes no sense. We have troops placed side by side but who do not support each other, our shooting barely covers a third of the front and if we need reinforcements, the closest units are slow and would be forced to cross our own shooting arch. If they attack us from the South-East we are in serious trouble, moreso because we have few scouts who can warn us. This deployment is not only weak... it is dangerous, and our enemy is far from a fool."
Tek'totiki had no answer.

After two days the skaven attack came. Slow at first, then with steadily increasing pressure. Low-ranking troops massing senselessly and hopelessly against the center and right flank.
Tek'totiki was relieved. It was evident that Lord Temmu had foreseen where the attack would come from and his orders had taken that into account. Kra-Gar sent the cold ones units to harass and encircle the enemy troops.
It was only when it seemed that the enemy would be repelled, that the drums and horns on the left signaled the danger. War machines, hordes of hooded figures and armored troops emerged from the South-eastern forest, heading inexorably towards the lines of the lizardmen.


The third battle – The lesser Temple of Huanchi

The retreat had been long and bloody, the rearguards decimated by the relentless attacks of the skaven.
The escape had stopped at the temple in the southern quadrant, dedicated to Huanchi. It was a minor building, part of the ring of citadels that surround the temple-city of Tunk-Xha.
The defense would be established there... not only was it unthinkable to allow the skaven to outrage a sacred temple of the Ancients, but it was also the last obstacle to stand between the rats and Tunk-Xha.
Kra-Gar was determined and moderately satisfied. With no indications from Lord Temmu, he had arranged the troops as he saw fit; the saurian regiments on foot had barricaded themselves in the walls surrounding the temple, while all skink units, cavalry and battle dinosaurs remained outside, to contrast encirclement and ensure mobility on the flanks.
Finally the skaven arrived. They almost no longer bothered to hide, encouraged by the series of successes... The warchief's banners waved proudly, among a mass of hairy bodies which incredibly had grown even further, intoxicated by the victories.

The assault began. The Skaven army, under the careful leadership of their lord, pressed against the temple defenses with no hurry, while elite units metodically protected the flanks, countering the enveloping movements of the forces of Kra-Gar.
The Scar-Vet had reached Tek'totiki. “It’s time to strike. Gather the other priests. Weaken their flank with magic, the razordons will help you, then the stegadons will charge and open a gap for my Saurus knights."
“Fine, I'll call the priests, just giv…”
Tek'totiki’s body stiffened as Lord Temmu took possession of the vassal skink. The Slann's voice was hollow.
“Kra-Gar, orders the retreat towards the temple city. Leave the field."
Kra-Gar looked the priest in disbelief.
“My Lord…?”
“The battle is lost. Retreat toward Tunk-Xha”.
The saurus commander grabbed the skink by the throat, lifting it to eye level. For a brief moment the veteran's muscles hardened, his throat let out a low, menacing growl... then he calmed down.
"My Lord, The battle is not lost, and the regiments in the citadel cannot retreat. If we leave we condemn them to death".
“Their sacrifice will be honored. The Great Plan demands your retreat. Now”.

The possession ended as it began. Kra-Gar now held a terrified skink by the neck, which was struggling to breathe... Kra-Gar let him go.
Tek'totiki fell to the ground on his knees, coughing and panting.
“I don’t understand… I’m sorry…”
Kra-Gar didn't hear it. He was already giving the retreat orders. And as the troops marched, only the drums of the saurus warriors could be heard in the distance, slowly drowned out by the dark ringing of bells.


The battle for Tunk-Xha

When they returned to Tunk-Xha, preparations for the looming battle were already underway. Kra-Gar and the other Scar Veterans were assigned to the reserve troops, while the Oldbloods set up the main defenses.
Tek'totiki had been relieved of front line duties and assigned to support the Revered Guardian in the defense of the central pyramid, from where Lord Temmu would telepathically coordinate operations.
“I've been cut off” Tek'totiki thought bitterly. “Not that it would have made any difference.”
The skink felt drained. After days of waiting and confusing but alarming reports from scouts on terradons, dawn had finally revealed the full extent of the threat. An endless horde of Skaven was amassing, far superior to anything Tek'totiki had ever seen or imagined. The city had no hope.

Then the assault began. Tek'totiki struggled to follow the flow of the fight in the early hours. He was not bred for fight, but in his mission he had begun to appreciate and fear the organized movements of enemy troops. But in the carnage that was developing in the plain, there was nothing organised. The skaven seemingly chaotically crowded into the lizardmen's defenses in uncoordinated waves.
Tek'totiki imagined it was some trick, but the doubt slowly faded when it became clear that the defensive lines, anchored on the regiments of Temple Guards and Bastiladons, were not giving way.
It was in the early afternoon that the attackers began to falter... the front lines tried to retreat, bumping against the pressure of their own backups, massed senselessly in the center, while the pincers of the lizardmen began to close.
It was only towards evening that panic truly spread among the skaven... regiments began fighting each other to gain apparent escape routes, which were promptly blocked by the Cold Ones and Carnosaurs.
After sunset Tek'totiki was no longer able to see anything, except for salamanders’ fire, but he could hear noises and screams in the distance. The massacre lasted all night. By morning the Skaven army was no more. A lake of blood extended in front of the city, soaking hundreds of thousands of hairy bodies.

Finally, Lord Temmu exited the Inner Sanctum.
“Ah, here you are, my little Tek'totiki. Your anxiety was very strong when you returned. And even now you are troubled... why? we achieved a great victory"
Tek'totiki didn't know where to start, too many thoughts crowded into his mind. Above all, he couldn't explain what he had experienced and seen.
“My lord… I… we retreated when we could have fought, and when it seemed we had no chance, we won. What happened? their warlord had proven to be a skilled and shrewd commander, while today his leadership was confusing and suicidal."

“That's because their warlord wasn't leading them. He died two nights ago. Leading them were several commanders eager to excel, convinced only that they had to compete for the spoils of a beaten and demoralized enemy. Too many heads, too many ideas, too little experience"
Tek'totiki couldn't follow the conversation. It seemed too absurd to him.
"Died? how did he die? it wasn't us... what killed him?”

Lord Temmu smiled placidly.
“His victories killed him”
“huh? how…?”
“Success and envy are a lethal combination, in the society of our enemies. If you create the right conditions, your enemy will defeat himself. As the Great Plan wills”

 

Space Reserved for author identities

 

Excellent!

 

Almost forgot about this

being so forward in the contest, at this pointi see no reason to spoiler my reviews


PART OF THE TEAM:
nice little one. Here we have long term strategy, and one that focuses not on grand schemes, but in the little world of a small unit. Despite its shortness, it's a story vivid with details and manages to offer a precise insight of the feelings of our misleaded protagonist. One you can sympathise with. Great start.

THE QUESTION
another short story, which nicely breaks the fourth wall between the fantasy lore and the gaming table. Tactics at its core, an endless debate concentrated in a singular question that even the legendary Oracle won't have a sure answer, i can easily bet on it.
Good piece, no doubt about it... how well it will end depends on the mood of the readers, if they want a serious piece or a light hearted one.

FRIENDS AND FOES
The longest piece, and this one covers both tactics (the different ways battles are fought) and strategy (the long and unexpected grand scheme). The final reveals the masterplan behind the unwise decisions of the Slann, and i like that til that moment you don't really know what's up. It's easy to understand the frustration of the scarvet and the bewilderment of the skink priest... maybe the story drags for a little too long, but i feel that probably it was due to create a ground for the final twist.

 

So, a tiebreak?
a pity for Part of the Team, i really liked it but i suppose that with so few votes it can be easy to fall back a little, and that suffices.

 

Sorry I've been a little inattentive because I've been busier than usual these last couple weeks. Good things, I have a new social group. And bad things, a storm damaged my house requiring to play phone tag with my insurance company and various construction people

We can do a run-off vote, or call it a tie. Either way, I'll lazily kick the can to @Killer Angel to decide.

 

Ouch, sorry to hear that.

I will take a decision asap

 

As agreed, it's time for a Tie-Breaker

Cast your vote!