Fiction Stories of Renown... Kind of...

My next story entry:

Murder Under the Nile


Snikkit hurried down the narrow tunnels. The close walls brushed at his fur as he scurried forwards, giving him a sense of protection and reminding him of his burrow back at Skavenblight.

The Warlord was not going to be pleased. Their tunnelling had had to stop due to a cave-in killing most of the Skaven slaves doing the digging. This meant that work would stop while they were dug out and put back to work or the bodies removed as obstables. Either way, they would need more slaves shipped in before they could continue moving forwards through the underway now being carved into the jungle lands.

Snikkit reached a crossroads and took a left, immediately coming to a wooden door set into the tunnel. He banged the prescribed three times and, doubled almost completely over, entered the room with his most servile face on. The warlord had been known to execute and/or eat anyone disturbing him… but equally he had been known to do the same to those who didn’t tell him what was happening.

Snikkit’s nose twitched. That metallic smell… Fully entering the room, he stopped cold. Warlord Grashik lay on his bed, face and body bloated beyond recognition. Knife wounds across his body could only mean one thing. Assassins! He crouched and looked around furtively. Nothing. Well, he could still leave before…

Loud arguing approached the half-open door behind him. He span and froze in fear as the two other lieutenants scrambled in mid argument. “-speak-speak that you are to blame-blame, Niffit!” Just as the other shouted “-Warlord, I have brought this traitor-thing to you directly for eating so save-save you time-time!”

Both speakers froze. Snikkit scrambled as far from the body as he could. “No-no, Snikkit just found-found Warlord like this. No sneaky stab-stab.” He could tell that they were having none of it.

Niffit, the bigger of the two, smiled evilly revealing yellowed-fangs. “Well-well, sneaky-stab-stab... Big plan-plan for Snikkit, being big rat..."

Snikkit squirted the musk of fear. As he backed away from the pair, the door behind them opened again and Warlord Grashik's trusted advisor stalked in, flanked by two burly Stormvermin.

"Well, well. Ze sneaky-sneakers ‘ave gone to far-far zis time.”

Snikkit grimaced. He wasn’t sure what part of the Underway or Skavenblight the advisor was from but his accent was almost incomprehensible. “I was just…” but the advisor cut him off.

“No-no. All suspects you are-are. I will ‘ave-‘ave to look-squint at all evidence before slow kill-kill.”

The other Lieutenants had been smirking to themselves at his misfortune and only now realized that they were included in this remark. “I just found-spotted him here. How I guilty-thing…” just as the other spluttered “He was here-here, nasty guilty…” but the advisor cut them both off.

“No-no, guilty stench-smell, it is ‘ere.” The rat sniffed the air, its small set of whiskers carefully curled. “And I will not stop-cease, until all ze guilt is found.” The rat swirled dramatically so that his cloak flared out behind him. “For zat is ‘ow Poirat always gets-finds ze guilty.” Leaving the bulky Stormvermin guarding the door, Poirat took the first lieutenant to a separate room for interrogation.

“Let no-one enter-leave.”

-

Snikkit had never seen Poirat at work, but he was morbidly fascinated with the investigation process. The other two lieutenants were each taken individually for several hours at a time, leaving the other two in silence as the two hulking Stormvermin glared down at them. Between each interview, Poirat stomped around the warlord’s room huffing and puffing through his snout watched by the bewildered Skaven.

When it came to his turn for questioning, Snikkit followed the rat down a tunnel into a dimly lit room. Poirat peppered him with questions: When had he arrived in the room, when was the last time he had used the privvy, just how attracted he was to grubs and worms as foodstufffs… The questions went on and on. Some he could see the relevance of, some seemed whimsically chosen and some were just downright strange.

“You ask-speak how many steps into room-burrow, before I sniff-smelt Warlord’s body?”

“Last snack-eating was four hours ago…”

“Stretch-open my muzzle? Why would you-AAAAARGH”

“Um… I can fetch-carry some of my droppings…”

Leaving Poirat sifting through large masses of his droppings, Snikkit began to wonder if the advisor had a secret stash of warpstone. He seemed a couple of rats short of a swarm…

-

“You may be think-pondering why I ‘ave called-summoned you all ‘ere today.”

The advisor stalked up and down the room in front of the three lieutenants. The two hulking Stormvermin still stood either side of the door. Snikkit exchanged looks with the others, for once there was no bickering between them. The surreal experience had created a temporary ceasefire and they sat together just as bemused as each other. Poirat paused, striking a dramatic pose. The moment stretched out.

Snikkit couldn’t take it any longer. “Haven’t been able to leave-flee-“

“Exactly!” A feverish light had kindled inside the eyes of the advisor. “You ‘aven’t been able to leave-flee. None of you…”

He started pacing again. “The killer is in ‘zis room-burrow.”

The silence following this proclamation was profound. Broken only by the slight hissing sound as Snikkit, and possibly some others, squirted the musk of fear.

“From the moment-time I entered zis room, I ‘ave kept it secure. I ‘ave taken-grabbed each of you for question-talk. Each time-moment I came back, the room-scene ‘ad change-moved. The killer ‘ides ‘is track-scent.”

The three lieuntenants looked at each other. The silence returned, but this time there was a greater pressure as the nervous Skaven eyed each other.

Poirat’s tail lashed behind him as he preened his curled whiskers again. “When I first entered ze room-burrow, I could tell-see by ze warlord’s bloating zat the killer ‘ad struck long before. Knife wound-gashes were for show-show, no sign of struggle-fight. The bag of grub-worms warlord ‘ad been eat-snacking would ‘ave long-since come out ozzer end-bottom of the killer-stabber…”

Snikkit was not following at all. Glancing at the others he could see that he was not the only one.

“Check-smell of your mouths-muzzle showed no recent food-snack, but on each look-glance ze bag of grub-worms was smaller and smaller.” He leaned closer to them. “The killer-stabber is still in zis room.”

Snikkit nervously glanced around the room. There were no obvious hiding places in sight, but it wouldn’t be the first time a paranoid leader had commissioned a false wall, floor or ceiling in the event of a mutiny.

“But where, I ask-question myself, could ze killer be ‘iding? I look-searched all tunnels surrounding zis one and found nothzing. Then I realized my mistake-folly…”

Pulling a throwing knife from his belt, he spun and threw the knife into a section of the wall near the warlord’s body except that it stopped about a foot away. Poirat stepped closer as a body fell to the floor with the knife embedded in its shoulder. With the wound, the natural camouflage from the Chameleon Skink slowly reverted back to it’s natural green colour.

“Only by process-check of elimination, could I work-find where ze killer was ‘iding through its musk-scent.” He grabbed hold of the lizard and pulled it to its feet. “To kill-maim immediately is waste, we must find-question about what ozzer Lizard things are in ze tunnels.” He signalled the Stormvermin and then hustled the wounded lizard out of the room.

The other lieutenants sighed a collective sigh of relief and filed out of the room, resuming their bantering argument but now about who would be the warlord now.

Snikkit remained in the room. Something about the set-up niggled at him like a piece of gristle stuck in his back teeth. Something just didn’t add up.

He walked over to the body of the warlord. The poison-bloated body was covered in knife wounds and the stench was now almost too much to be able to stand close to the body for any length of time. He realized what it was. He had seen the warlord fight on despite several wounds from weeping-blades and it made no sense that he would have been senseless after a couple of darts. A feeling of panic slowly blossomed in his stomach as he backed away from the body. The only way there could have been no struggle is due to too much poison. Too many darts simultaneously.

There wasn’t a killer. There were SEVERAL killers.

He scrambled towards the door, he had to get away. What if the other lizards were still here. He had to-

He skidded to a stop. The hallway was filled with the lifeless bodies of hulking Stormvermin and the lieutenants, resembling spiny sea creatures with blowdarts sticking out of them all over their flesh. Pressing himself to the wall and trying to watch all directions at once, he inched past the bodies. Lying on the floor beyond was the still form of Poirat, for once his features frozen into a look of shock.

Snikkit didn’t spend any more time looking, he frantically scrabbled his way past and ran for the nearest exit.

-

La’Xiu berated Ka-Liq as they climbed through the foilage of the jungle with the rest of the pack of Chameleon Skinks. “You just couldn’t hold on til lunch, could you?! You just HAD to keep eating the forsaken things and give us away.” He shook his head. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?!”

Ka-Liq hung his head low and muttered something unintelligible.

“What?”

“And I would have gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for those pesky rats.”

 

Funny story and a very good read.
I was figuring how Lizards would be incorporated in the story for a while.

Grrr, Imrahil

 

You should come write for the Legendary Lore mod. You'd have a readership of thousands of people.

 

Thanks buddy!

I googled that but it seems like it's based on the Warhammer computer game... Is that what you're referring to?

 

Yes

 

So for the last contest, I did the following story:

Late to Mature

Thalluk reached for his snack.

The clearing was quiet, aside from the slow rustling of the forest leaves in the light breeze and constant hum of insects in the air. He could here the thousand and one sounds of beasts, large and small, in the jungle around him but it was too far away to annoy him. The sun beat down gloriously on his back. He sighed, contented. He knew that Varrun was vegetarian so he didn’t offer him any but, remembering his manners, he mentally scrambled for something polite to say.

He coughed. “So… How did your son do with his new mate?”

-

Itl’bet ran through the undergrowth, his surroundings a blur as branches slapped his face. Away. He must get away. The others must be told about the attack.

-

Lit-qui stuck up his hand. The Skink priest running the class sighed.

The rough-hewn stone classroom was muggy in the constant heat and humidity of the rainforest base, but it couldn’t be helped as the very subjects they were studying were nearby and all the theory in the world didn’t make you a proper beast handler. You had to get familiar with the various lizards, learn for yourself how to apply each of the tenets that you were given. This was not to say that the theory was useless. On the contrary, it was essential that you got all you questions answered and were totally certain. The instructor had had many students with questions. But Lit-qui was something else. None of the other handlers he trained were even half as annoying, he thought as he frowned.

He cleared his throat and continued, ignoring the hand.

-

Varrun chewed his vegetables slowly. He knew that Thalluk was just being polite and didn’t actually care about his children, but he appreciated the effort. As they had only recently resolved their differences and made friends, he made a specific effort to respond in a friendly fashion.

“No… The mate he found ended up being attracted to someone else…”

“Oh.” Valluk seemed a little stumped for a response and the clearing fell silent again.

-

Leaning on a tree to catch his breath, Itl’bet gasped as his tiny lungs tried to compensate for all of the running he had done. He couldn’t continue, maybe he could just hide somewhere here and-

The trunk next to him exploded. Itl’bet screamed as warpstone slivers cut into the side of his face. All thought fled as he threw his body back into the undergrowth, fear banishing his exhaustion as he heard the not-so-distant roars of a Rat Ogre.

-

“YES, FINE LIT-QUI. WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE OLD ONES DO YOU WANT NOW?!?”

The words reverberated in the now completely silent classroom. The instructor closed his eyes and thumped the back of his head softly against the wall next to the demonstration board. If Lit-Qui hadn’t been so recently spawned, he would have sworn that he had discovered some heretofore unknown magical power that enabled him to get under the skin of anyone. The instructor normally had so much patience for his students, but the little Skink just wouldn’t stop with the questions…

He took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

“Your question, Lit-Qui?”

A trembling voice answered him. “Well honoured one, I just don’t understand how they can take so long to mature that’s all.”

“Well, larger creatures have a far longer life span than most of the other indigenous species and generally have less predators. Terradons mature relatively fast, in fact-“

“But honoured one, how do we KNOW this?”

-

Thalluk found the silence oppressive. Somehow it didn’t seem to affect Varrun, but it ate at him and he started to panic as he thought of something else to say. He was no good at this social thing!

“And how’s your food?”

It just slipped out. He winced. This was the exact and only subject he was tying to avoid. It was too late now. Varrun’s heavy brow creased and Thalluk knew the conversation had just slipped out of control.

“What do you mean, HOW’s my food?”

-

Itl-bet heard loud voices ahead. Thank the Old Ones, there was no high-pitched chittering marking the Skaven. It could only be friends. He found a last reservoir of energy and pushed forwards. ANYONE would be better than being by himself.

-

“It is hypothesised that the true maturity of the Greater Beasts occurs after hundreds of years, possibly even over a thousand-“

The instructor broke off and gritted his teeth. Lit-Qui’s hand waved in the middle of the class like a small flag of defiance. The instructor’s patience stretched thin and then snapped.

-

“YOU JUST HAD TO BRING IT UP, DIDN’T YOU?!?”

“I just think that you’d get more protein if you tried-“

“I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU DISGUSTING EATING HABITS. I ALREADY TOLD YOU-“

He broke off as a tiny, tiny Skink, eyes bulging in fear, ran out of the tree line. The minuscule lizard made it just far enough to flop between them and then collapsed, gulping for air.

Varrun looked up at Thalluk, all anger forgotten. “Do you think he’s okay?”

-

Itl’bet lay panting, exhaustion and terror haven driven him almost to unconsciousness. At least to the point of hallucination apparently, as a huge Stegadon head appeared above him and then clearly SPOKE to someone off to the side. Itl’bet closed his eyes and slapped himself a couple of times. He had to focus, he had to…

The appearance of the gaping maw of the Carnosaur was sufficient to jolt him back to the present.

“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”

-

The instructor had had it. He’d tried being nice. He’d tried explaining it carefully. The repeated questions were nothing short of a direct attack and the only way he knew of to handle such was an attack of his own.

He rounded the desks at the front of the class, his face mottled with anger and the other students shied back from him as he came closer.

Slamming his hands down on the front of Lit-Qui’s desk, he leaned down and put his snout next to the students.

“You DARE interrupt the Chief Handler’s instructing? Have you no manners?!?”

-

The Skink screamed. He tried to get to his feet, failed and pitched forwards into he dust.

The Carnosaur slapped it’s head. “I’m so sorry, where are my manners?! My name is Thalluk and this is,” he puffed out his chest in pride, “my friend Varrun.”

The Skink lay on the ground, silently staring back at him.

Thalluk was a bit miffed. The creature didn’t even have the dignity to respond, even after all of his politeness! Plus it was HE who had interrupted their meal (although, truth be told, it was a welcome distraction). He was about to say something else, when Varrun tapped his leg with his tail. He looked up to see a very surprised Skaven war party spilling out of the trees.

Varrun smiled up at him, all antagonism fading with the prospect of a good fight. “How about a little taste of the good old days, my friend?”

Thalluk threw his head back and roared. The sound reverberated in the clearing and off the nearby hills. The almost constant chatter of the jungle ceased as the rats before him took a collective step back. He smiled, bearing teeth bigger than the Skink lying before them. He had always had the knack of a good roar.

“That sounds wonderful, Varrun.”

-

Itl’bet sat staring at the scene before him. This had to be a dream. He pinched himself. Again. Nope, they were still there.

More snatches of the conversation drifted over to him between the screams of dying Skaven.

The Carnosaur bit down, cutting a Rat Ogre cleanly in two and grabbed another. Stretching it out before him, he bunched his muscles and then paused, turning his head. “Don’t you think it’s a little ironic that, here you are, happily ripping all of these things apart into bloody chunks and you won’t eat the chunks that I’VE prepared?”

The Stegadon stomped the last of the Stormvermin into a thin red paste, then turned himself. “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s like saying because I step in Bastiladon dung I should eat it.”

“Don’t change the subject, I only meant-“

The Skink sat for a good 15 minutes watching the surreal scene unfold. He knew that he wasn’t taking in everything, but enough that this moment would stay with him for as long as he lived.

After the Warlord had been impaled on the Stegadon’s horns, and the last of the Skaven had fled, Itl-Bet watched the two creatures stomp past him.

The Carnosaur casually reached out and picked up the Skink, placing him on the back of the Stegadon, “Let’s find another clearing, this one will stink very soon. Maybe we can find some more of those berries you like so much.”

“Only if you’ll try them too, Thalluk. And we can find something for the little one.”

The three lizards left the clearing, leaving behind an orderly pile of vegetables, an orderly pile of meat chunks and the scattered remains of the raiding party.

-

“We just wanted to know how you learned it, honoured one…”

Itl’bet gave a snort of exasperation. So this was what it was all about. Lit-qui was evidently the nominated student to force a story out of him.

“Fine.”

The class all scampered closer. As Itl-Bet looked around at their faces, shining with anticipation, he remember his first wonderful moments of discovery and smiled back.

“It all began with Thalluk and Varrun…”

 

From @Imrahil

Funny story. I liked the different storylines that seemingly had nothing to do with each other, but were connected in the end in a nice way. I had a good chuckle about conversations between the Carnosaur and the Stegadon.

Thanks buddy

From @Scalenex

Story One ("Late to Mature): The author took a risk with the unconventional story structure but in my opinion the risk paid off. The piece was well-structured and well-paced. It could have easily gone off the rails but didn't. The story had warmth and humor and action and good characterization.

Could have maybe used a little bit of polishing grammatically but I have no major complaints.

Literal take take on "old ones".

From @Bowser

Story 1 Late to Mature: This one almost reminds me of a Don Bluth animated film. Thalluk voiced by Dom Delouise, Varrun voiced by someone surly yet classy, maybe Malcolm McDowell, or Jeremy Irons. We don't know what they look like at first, but they have very distinct personalities and voices. Then we cut to the classroom, and the professor has a bit of short fuse, especially when being interrupted by the ever curious Lit'Qui. We switch between these two story lines until they converge unconventionally. This story has great comedic timing, and a very satisfying arc. Author Prediction: @thedarkfourth watched Don Bluth Films and then wrote this.

-

Thanks a lot for the kind words guys. It was a fun story to write.

 

The Maze

The echo’ing laughter faded.

Ul’thar staggered to the next wall clutching his side. He checked his hand and his blood dripped down like one of the water clocks the Priests used, counting down his own life.

He shook his head. So dizzy. Wait, what had that laughter been?

He tried to get his thoughts ordered. The portal… He had led the counter-attack to the portal and then… His spawn-brothers roared their approval as he tore the cooked flesh from the animal, blood dripped-

He shook his head again. He was slipping. The steady drip of the clock counted out the rest of his life.

The black stone walls rose around him. He staggered forwards, passing dark entrances to passageways that seemed to lead to nothingness itself. How had he gotten here? He randomly chose a passage as he heard noises behind him. Wait… What was behind him? Why was he running?

He shook his head. The portal. He had to- He felt his spawn-brothers thrashing through the spawning pool near him, his lungs burned as he stretched toward the light above, he was almost there, he-

He grabbed hold of the wall, leaning up against it for support. The oppressive gloom of the passages and openings around him an almost physical silence. Then whispers. From everywhere and nowhere. Not words, but sounds. Almost words, as if he could listen intently and grasp their meaning…

He blinked and forced himself to stagger forwards. He had to move, they were coming. What? Who were coming? What had he seen?

A figure lurched out of a side-passage, it’s form indistinct but he could taste the scent of Lustria on his tongue. A brother! He stumbled forwards just as the figure stepped into a shaft of light. Ul’thar stopped dead. The other lizard’s face was almost unrecognizeable, the mouth hung open as green pus dripped from every tooth. It’s head was covered with what seemed like sores, but as he watched several of the “sores” blinked and swivelled to watch him. As the thing approached, a tentacle rising from it’s back, and a wave of hatred rose within him. Chaos had taken those he loved, pure souls and reduced them to this. He raised his blade and stepped forwards but as he did so a deep chuckle seemed to echo around him, the echo itself mirrored by faint high-pitched cackling.

The lizard-thing paused, then an unnatural vigor seemed to seize it and it lunged for him. Ul’thar knocked it to the side even as his blade lashed out to sever it’s neck. As the body slumped to the floor, he told himself it was a mercy killing. None of his spawn-brothers would have wanted to live like…

His eyes fell upon the scarred and mangled tail.

He stood back to back with Thu’Rok as the rat-men circled them. The presence of his spawn-brother comforted him as he limbered his arm in preparation for the attack. A hulking rat-beast screamed its way forwards, its huge maw snapping down at him. Rolling to the side he came to his feet as the beast latched on to Thu’Rok, dragging him backwards by his tail even as it’s frothing mouth chewed maniacally. Ul’thar roared his defiance and sprang forwards, burying his blade between the eyes of the rat-monster. The jaw remained closed in death even as the other rat-men closed in. They-

Ul’thar blinked. Leaning against the wall with one clawed hand, he rose from where he had fallen to his knees and looked down at the twisted remains of his friend.

A deeper chuckle this time. From within and without as it seemed to echo in his own mind. The sound conveying both deep malicious amusement and the roaring of a thousand, thousand fires. Barely louder than a whisper, it echoed far longer than it should have.

He squeezed his eyes shut and came fully upright. Keep moving. There had to be some way out of here.

He shambled forwards. Patches of blood marking his steps.

-

Ul’thar’s vision wavered. His hands shook as the last remains of Qui’zik still dripped from the edges of his claws. The Skink had been maddened to the point of delirium, cackling even as he had lashed out with whips that had gleamed with the unmistakeable sheen of Lustrian scale.

Even as the Skink’s hands sought to rend and tear, Ul’thar had forced the life from him. At the last Qui’zik’s eyes had reflected panic, as if in the moment before his death he had suddenly been granted enough clarity to comprehend the horror of what had befallen him. A cruel fate.

He turned his clawed hands over as they trembled. At least Chi’laq had only been battle-maddened. The image of his brothers formerly azure scales glowing a deep, burning red still haunted him, but moreso the glyph upon his forehead that had burned in glowing gold.

His cold blood seemed colder now, even as it fled his frame. Like rats abandoning a sinking ship.

He forced his mind back to the present. The visage of the corridor wavered before him, splitting into two and swirling. A wave of nausea ran through him and he bit his own tongue to keep from passing out. Only faith kept him moving forwards. Surely the Old Ones wouldn’t abandon him now.

Then an open space. In the middle, red and purple swirled in a portal large enough to take a Kroxigor. The portal! This must have been what he was searching for. Wait. He had been running FROM something. He had heard- The Slann laid the bone helmet on his head and his heart swelled with pride as he turned to his brothers and-

The floor rushed to meet him. The impact forced the remaining air from his lungs and he lay stunned. His eyelids felt as if the heavens themselves lay upon them, but he forced them open again. Using his forearms he pushed his body up to its knees.

Beside the portal sat a creature, watching him. Purple and yellow flames swirled around it’s two heads. It’s form a hideous mockery of a Skink. As he watched, one cocked to the side to watch him and the other turned to whisper in its ear.

The Skinks mouths did not move, but he heard a voice.

You have resisted longer than your brethren, lizard. The voice soothed him. Relaxed him, promising sweet release into oblivion. Why not give in? You will enjoy Change.

Ul’thar snarled, his lips drawing back into a deathlike rictus of pain. He forced himself to stand and shuffled forwards. The… thing was not blocking his way. It did not move to attack. He would not give up hope.

The Skink-thing shifted, as if getting comfortable. You have resisted all my brothers. This is… admirable.

Ul’thar drew level with the creature and tensed for the attack, knowing that he could do nothing to defend himself. The creature seemed to hear his thoughts. Oh no, my brave little one. You have earned your way through the portal. I would not stop you now.

The voice taunted him. Mocked him. He drew closer to the portal.

As he drew himself closer, the voice whispered from behind him. Such valour should be… rewarded.

He stretched out a clawed hand and touched the portal.

Light eclipsed everything even as the creatures laughter rose behind him.

-

The echo’ing laughter faded.

Ul’thar staggered to the next wall clutching his side. He checked his hand and his blood dripped down like one of the water clocks the Priests used, counting down his own life.

He shook his head. So dizzy. Wait, what had that laughter been?

As the Lizard moved on, he failed to spot identical footprints on the floor. Thousands upon thousands of bloodied imprints, interweaving and overlapping. Perhaps if you stared hard enough, concentrated hard enough, you could see the pattern.

The game would continue.

 

REVIEWS:

@Imrahil

"A great thematic setting, I really got transported to the scene. I was kind of flustered by the amount chaos oozing out of the story. At first I struggled to fit it in the theme because the lack of Lustria, but I realized it was hanging on the foolhardy exploration side. I loved the full circle at the end."

Thanks buddy!

@Killer Angel

Solid story, we have a saurus (that i imagine was the commander of an expedition against chaos... the "foolhardy exploration") is the sole "survivor" of a squad of children of the old ones, all of them annihilated, twisted and mutated by the power of tzeentch. Thematically i liked the visual images of the lizardmen fallen to chaos, each one with a different mutation and each one with different ties to the protagonist, ties that are revealed through flashbacks, experienced in a sort of feverish state of mind. Very nice the image of the dripping blood that marks the passing of time.
The weak point is that probably the development of the story and its ending are (at least to me) somehow predictable, with our protagonist that is doomed to an "eternal" cycle of suffering, at least as long as he doesn't break or his torturer put an end to it. When you have only one vote, maybe you want something unique...

 

I very much liked reading the story. With only one vote it was pretty hard to decide which to pick.
Congrats on the second place though.

Grrr, Imrahil

 

Last poetry contest entry:

Cold Blood

The wave of bodies forges forward, their scales glinting in reflected firelight.
The fire flames hot, but their blood is cold.
The wave crashes over the foe, muscles burn and teeth are bared.
The purpose burns within, but their blood is cold.
He sees his brethren fall, their cries of pain lancing through him like forked lightning.
The loss sears him, but his blood is cold.
Roaring defiance, he tries to reach his brothers, his muscles smouldering from within.
The purpose strong, but his blood is cold.
He falls, the adversaries blows overwhelming him, even as his draws their life.
Their blood is hot, but his is cold.
Will not yet extinguished, he forces his arms to push himself upwards towards the fight but the strength is gone.
His blood is spilt and his spirit cold.