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Choose 2 Entry

A. Gears of Waaaaargh!
7 (30.4%)
B. Failed Negotiations
2 (8.7%)
C. Sexual Health in the Field
5 (21.7%)
D. Iron Within
3 (13%)
E. Broken Friendships
2 (8.7%)
F. The Birth of a Monster
4 (17.4%)

Total Members Voted: 13

Voting closed: December 16, 2013, 10:25:38 pm

Author Topic: Winter Writers Short Story Contest [Voting]  (Read 9906 times)

Offline Narric

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Winter Writers Short Story Contest [Voting]
« on: December 09, 2013, 10:05:32 pm »
Sorry I am a day late guys ^_^;;

You're all awkward sods by the way :P more than doubling the number of entries AFTER I increased the deadline :P *le sigh* At last this contest can run now ;)

I'll be honest, I didn't read these, so I'm going to not know which to pick myself :P

[spoiler=A. Gears of Waaaaargh!]
The greenskin shook his head and rubbed the dust and smoke out of his eyes. He turned around to see the rest of the trukk remained in one piece. Well, sort of – but the shot from the blue box behind him had missed completely. An ork called out to him, “Oi! Bonecruncha! Keep ya eyes on da road!”

“Yeh I knowz Yakka, just keep shootin at dat blue box before we’s blown to bitz!” Bonecruncha yelled back, before he swerved around a boulder and nearly flipped the trukk in the process. Yakka-Dakka swivelled around and looked through his various targeting crosshairs and tried his best to lock onto the Rhino-chassis that was in pursuit – gee it had some good engines!

Yakka had all four crosshairs locked on the pursuing blue box and with a triumphant roar, pulled the trigger. The rokkit spiralled off in a bizarre direction and just missed the target by a few hundred feet. “Widget! Rokkit me!” he bellowed, and a little grot scrambled below the top deck of the trukk and clambered up the steps with a rokkit the size of a cave squig.

Bonecruncha studied the path ahead, and quickly glanced behind to discover the current position of the blue box. Not much time left, he thought, and it would be really helpful if that box was blown sooner rather than later. He swerved erratically as the blue box fired its powerful gun again, which missed the trukk by a few feet to the left. “Yakka! Take it!” he bellowed.

Yakka-Dakka again pulled his trigger, but Bonecruncha swerved around in a tight manoeuvre moments before, and as a result the rokkit was fired straight up into the air. “Dammit!” He blasted. “Widget!” The grot again scrambled around looking for another rokkit in the lower deck of the trukk.

As he rounded the bend, Bonecruncha looked to his left – and saw hundreds of boys standing on a canyon wall, who were yelling so loudly that it nearly overpowered the engine of the trukk itself. To his right, hundreds more lined up on the canyon walls. This is it, Bonecruncha thought, Showtime!

He pulled his handbrake stick so hard it bent, and slammed on his brake pedal so hard he heard something snap, and the trukk spun around 270 degrees and came to a complete halt only a few feet from a checkered pattern on the earth ahead. The blue box drove straight towards the side of the trukk, and it was only five feet away when Yakka pulled the trigger on his weapon.

The rokkit penetrated through the front of the blue box like it was paper, and the vehicle exploded, sending pieces of burning metal flying through the air in every direction – even the crew were thrown a few hundred feet. Satisfied with the result, Bonecruncha released the handbrake and slammed his foot on the gas pedal, ready to cross the line.

The engine roared, and then the axels groaned. The trukk lurched forward a foot before all six wheels fell off, leaving the ramshackle vehicle in an immobile state. Seconds later, vehicles of all shapes and sizes roared past them, crossing the checkered line only just beyond where Bonecruncha sat in his drivers cab, and the crowd of orks erupted in applause and celebration each time a new vehicle finished the race. It seemed that Bonecruncha would never finish a Gorespeeda Komp race, and he immediately looked at Yakka, who nodded. There were a few meks that need a talk to over this.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=B. Failed Negotiations]Alo’nan shoved the Earth Caste scientist down, grimacing as the alien blade intended for the Fio’s heart found his left shoulder, punching straight through the layers of ablative armour he wore. He raised his pulse carbine in his right hand, thanking those who had worked to make the gyro-stabilizers that held his aim steady, and fired. The pulsed plasma flashed in the waning twilight and smashed satisfyingly into the aliens chest armour, fracturing the blood red stone that nestled there, and ending its life. He scrambled back as another of the lithe xenos swung its beautiful and exotic blade at his neck. He raised his gun again, and felt, rather than saw, it get sliced in twain by the aliens lightning swift riposte. His eyes locked with the cold blue lenses of the warriors’ battle-helm and, strangely, thought nothing of his impending death, but of the glistening seas of Au’taal, where he had once spent time recovering. The terrible blow never came. The foe, this screaming harbinger of death, was suddenly cut down by massed pulse fire. Alo’nan whirled around, crying out in pain as his shoulder wound tore. A small group of drones had saved him. He studied the four of them; they were battered, but obviously operational. Their markings declared them as part of Kor’Vesa squadron 9-12, but Alo’nan had ordered that squadron destroyed, due to problems with their independence programming. He turned to the Fio, who was picking himself up and adjusting his forearm mounted processor, fixed him with an icy glare and asked archly,
“Tell me Fio, why were these defective units were not destroyed?”
The squat scientist shrugged.
‘They weren’t defective, just had some errors in their code. Fixed that, and added a loyalty routine. And it’s Ol’ro.” He shrugged again, “well it’s technically Fio’vre Fal’shia Ol’ro, but Ol’ro is fine. You?”
“Shas’nel Ke’lshan Alo’nan. Chief security officer.”
Ol’ro looked amused and let out a short bark.
“Chief security officer, eh? Well, let me say, Shas’nel, you’re doing an excellent job.”
Alo’nan gritted his teeth, and growled,
“I am well aware that we are under attack, and that it was some of my own failings that led us here. But you should remember I saved your life.”
“As I did yours. But we should get going. You mentioned before the attack that I was needed in the Command Centre.”
Alo’nan nodded, and drew his pulse pistol, checking its clip.
“Indeed you are. Follow me.”
He took off at a run towards the main dome. Ol’ro fell into step behind him, his short legs churning powerfully to keep up. He punched some commands into his processor and his drones floated dutifully along behind him, their guns tracking each foreign movement as a potential threat.

Alo’nan hammered a pulse round into the helmet of one of the Eldar warriors classified by the Imperium as a ‘guardian’ and swept passed another, trusting the drones to cover him. His hooves clanged loudly on the hard metal floor of the Command Sub-dome’s security corridors. He snapped off another shot at a guardian rounding the corner from an alcove, but as soon as he fired he knew he’d missed. The guardian stepped back with the preternatural speed of his race, and launched a fusillade of his own. Alo’nan dived as deadly shuriken split the air, missing him by a hair. He landed heavily, grunting as the air was forced out of his lungs. His shoulder wound, recently patched by Ol’ro tore open once more. He felt his special issue stimulant injectors kick in, and the agony faded. He glanced up. The guardian was reloading, and advancing steadily toward him. He raised his pulse pistol in his shaky right hand, but knew he was too slow. There was a loud roar, a flash, and the guardian was torn apart, naught but giblets remaining of the Eldar citizen-soldier. He looked around in confusion.
“What?’ he asked Ol’ro.
Ol’ro gestured to his right arm, upon which was mounted a device that Alo’nan had assumed was a diagnostic of some kind.
“It’s a flechette discharger. Had a piranha transporting me shot down once by the blasted be’gel. Pilots were dead. Jury-rigged myself a weapon from the dischargers on the engines. Came in handy when one of them charged me. Those green-skins are tough, but not invincible. Survived, and refined the thing.”
Alo’nan grunted, and stood.
“Wondered how a Fio like you was so cool under fire. Now I am enlightened.”
He gestured to the drones.
“Leave them here. They can hold off any Eldar that attempt to assault the Command Centre.”
The scientist-warrior nodded and activated the routine via his forearm controller. They turned and pelted towards the Command Centre.

Alo’nan threw himself around the final turn, and saw the armoured bulkhead leading to the Command Centre. Ol’ro grunted, looking at his controller.
“Last of the drones just went offline. They’re coming.” Shuriken fire pelted the wall just beside the venerable scientists head. He flinched and sprinted for the Command Centre, “I stand corrected. They’re here.”
Alo’nan snapped off some covering shots in the direction of the lethal hail of blades, and ran for the bulkhead. He slipped in just as it was peppered with razor-sharp discs. He swore in pain as he felt one slice clean through his abdomen. Ol’ro slammed the bulkhead shut as he slid to the ground.
“Report.” He growled to one of the Shas’la, who replied.
“Losses in excess of 85% casualties. O’Sha’is is dead. Eldar have taken most of the facility.”
Alo’nan nodded.
“Get all remaining forces off station. I will initiate the failsafe detonator.”
One of the Shas stepped forward.
“We will hold them off for you.”
Alo’nan recognized him as Shas’el T’au Savon, O’Sha’is’ bodyguard. He shook his head.
“We Tau do not make last stands, like the foolish Gue’la, no matter our emotions. Go. Report what has happened here.”
Savon clenched his fist, but nodded. Ol’ro handed him the detonator, already primed.
“For the Greater Good.”[/spoiler]

[spoiler=C. Sexual Health in the Field]

“Libido suppressants are available,” barked Doctor McTavish, “but they reduce yer combat performance by an average of three per cent. Three per cent! Three per cent means that pirate makes it behind the wall! Three per cent means an enemy aircraft gets through the air defences and nails the supply convoy! Three per cent means the enemy walker completes its firing solution and drops a burst of plasma directly on yer heid! And then ye get to personally inform the Emperor why yer inability to keep yer pants on lost the position, thereby lost the battle and thereby lost Him a planet!”

Mandatory pre-deployment medical lectures. Sigh. Still, it beats getting shot at.

“And now we’ve covered yer duty, I’ll show all o’ ye a few more selfish reasons why ye animals need tae keep it zipped. Trooper,” he nodded at me, “Kill the lights.”

I did so. A holo screen flickered into life behind the medic.

“Now this beauty is the Degan Pustule.” There was the sound of uncomfortable shifting in seats. “Even the official literature describes it as a roasted maggot welded tae a mouldy cauliflower. Feast yer eyes, gentlemen, a lovely sight, wouldn’t ye say?”
   
I looked over at Jackie. She caught my glance and rolled her eyes. A small smile was on her lips.

“Ye may have heard that it feels like ye’re passing pure promethium in the latrines when ye’re the proud owner o’ this. I can tell ye that’s no’ true.”

*click* The picture changed.

“It does, in fact, feel like ye’re trying to get rid of the whole damned Hellhound, or so my last patient screamed. O’ course, that’s when the really fun stuff started.”

Quite a few troopers in the audience were trying not to look. Or listen. Several were pale. Safely covered by the darkness at the back of the hall, I smiled back at Jackie, flicking my eyebrows upward. Always the same with the new bods!

“… wi’ a wire brush five times an hour” concluded McTavish. He took a sip of water. “Oh, and ye ladies kin wipe the smiles off yer faces. This here,”

*click*

“Is Jebrell’s Rugatosis, otherwise known as The Melt. I dinnae think I need tae explain why.”
   
There were several sharp intakes of breath. McTavish continued on regardless, listing in exquisite detail exactly why you really didn’t want to even be within a hundred miles of his current holo. And this was just the beginning.

Image followed image, description followed description, all the several pitfalls for young men and women set loose upon the galaxy recounted remorselessly. I wondered how many of the audience would stagger out and rush to the padres for vows of celibacy – however briefly. Jackie was idly picking at a sleeve.

“And now, the biggest one of all. All those dodgy vids like In The Fringe or GalTrader, and the ridiculous ‘oooh Trader Tanjin, ye’ve saved ma people, now show me some more o’ this thing ye call ‘kissin’ ‘ rubbish. There’s more than one reason why the Emperor instructed us tae Abhor the Alien, and they’re here now.”

Jackie glanced over again. Shrugged. Ah well. Here we go.

“You two at the back. Up ye get.”

Jackie and I rose and walked up the aisle to the stage. A roomful of eyes followed us, as if they’d only just noticed us, but we ignored them. We were accustomed to this by now.

“These two, boys and girls, forgot that most basic of scripture. They thought the rules didnae apply.”
   
A holo-camera hovered in front of us, our torsos now enlarged upon the main screen. I kept my eyes fixed firmly on the door at the back of the hall, hands behind my back, twiddling with the knotted cord that held the medical gown closed. Almost over.

“Troopers, show these people what happens when ye think that.”

We both let our gowns fall. There were loud gasps. Screams. There were even retching noises, wet splatters revealing that at least two in the audience really had been repulsed.

Yeah. Not nice. Pretty humiliating. And there’s several more months to go. But still, it beats getting shot at.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=D. Iron Within]
Sub-warsmith Krays stormed into the bunker where he had been told his opposite-but-equal Sub-warsmith Nayhira was training one of his recent captures in the ways of the psyker. "What are you doing?" he snarled.
"You were not equipped to train this man in the use of his abilities.” replied Nayhira calmly, not looking away from the recruits eyes.
"He is not to be trained as a psyker." Krays stated quietly.
"Expound" came the simple reply.
"The warsmith does not trust psykers after what happened to Pyrin." Came the explanation.
"A single statistical anomaly is not a proper reason. Po does not trust psykers because he does not understand them. That is illogical. A weapon should be used to it's full potential, objectively. One without powers cannot be objective on the situation, as one does not have the knowledge needed." Nayhira stated, almost by rote.
"I disagree. I feel that having these powers makes you the one incapable of being objective. You are addicted to their use. You do not have a proper fear of those whose attention you draw, or the consequences."
"Which is what you do not understand. I know exactly what can go wrong. This is why I will not allow this one to go untrained. His powers will benefit us if I train him, if not he will harm himself, those around him, and he could even draw the attention of those whose attention we do not want."
A low voice rumbled from the doorway "Your constant arguing worries me. How can I have you lead my men if you cannot agree on anything?" They turned to see the massive presence of Warsmith Po filling the door to the bunker. He was hunched down just to look inside, standing head and shoulders taller than his sub-commanders, and even a head taller than most who wore the tactical dreadnought armor as he did. They both turned and, with an insubordination that would seem out of place in such a militaristic group as space marines (or as the emperor's dogmatic followers referred to them: the chaos marines) Krays replied "We do not argue lord, we discuss. We always agree on the battlefield, but our discussions off it keep our minds sharp."
"They still try my patience" He rumbled wearily. "As for the recruit: Nayhira will train him. Not for the battlefield but for our ships. I do not care for psykers who may use their abilities in anger, and it takes far more years of discipline than we have to train such an emotional state out of this one. Nayhira, you will give one of your recruits to Krays, as this one was his find."
They both nodded their assent to the large warlord. He had never lead them wrong, taking them away from Olympus to carve out their own empire, and he even allowed them the freedom to make their own decisions, but when he did give a command, his word was law.
[/spoiler]

[spoiler=E. Broken Friendships]Shas’Vre Vishai watched as the heat signatures converged on his location. Normally thermal scanning would be almost useless in a forest, with so many native life forms causing false alarms, but he was sure that these belonged to his kroot allies. There were too many of them all heading straight for him for it to be a mere coincidence.

He didn’t react to the approaching kroot, and continued monitoring the situation on his terminal. Four drones hovered around him, their pulse carbines covering all angles of approach. The enemy was drawing near, it wouldn’t be long now.

Minutes passed.

Seemingly apropos of nothing, Vishai moved; pressing a button on the terminal as he dived to the floor. The drones began firing, bathing the surrounding forest in flames as the pulse round cut down the charging aliens. The enemy immediately returned fire, downing one of the drones while the rest of their shots were absorbed by the portable shield generator Vishai had activated.

Looking up, he saw a kroot emerge from his left. Darting past the drones before they could react, it leapt on Vishai, trying to gut him with a machete. The last few weeks had prepared him for this though, and he kicked out, tripping the kroot before killing him with a shot from his pistol. A quick glance at the terminal showed that he was surrounded by dozens of kroot. While he watched another of his drones went down.

A shadow fell over him, which almost immediately vanished as the forest lit up with fire. The heavy gun drone incinerated a large swathe of the trees, while three more gun drones arrived and gunned down all the remaining kroot in the clearing. Looking back at the console, Vishai was pleased to see his forces engaging the kroot. Soon, all the rogue heat signatures had gone still.

Another successful ambush. Vishai smiled.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=F. The Birth of a Monster]

Long ago there was a  Haemonculus named Lilandara.  She was a fairly average Haemonculus, which, for those of you who aren't familiar with the term, meant that she was one of the flesh architects of the Dark Eldar.  Dispensers of torment and collectors of pain, working through the troubled skeins of life to extend the days of a dying race.  Or, you know, brutal monstrosities, depending on your point of view.

Lilandara's days were fairly simple.  Go to the slave pens, choose a gaggle or two, and bring them to the tormentors for soul-siphoning.  Count the screams until they get a bit too hoarse and then trot them off back to their styes.

But, one day was different.  That was the day that a Scourge, winged messengers of the Archons, got the wrong address.  The delivered message said, in rather majestic script, that the son of the local Archon was looking for new head consort.   Every house that received an invitation would be able to send one candidate to the yearly Grand Ball, at which the Prince would choose his newest fancy.

The other Haemonculi scoffed at the mere thought of such a pointless ordeal and turned back to their work.  Lilandara was about to join them when she saw the picture of the Prince.  Perhaps it was his savvy looks, baleful eyes or even the waft of arrogance, but something in the image made the very inner workings of Lilandara thrum with a kind of vibrancy that she hadn't felt since she removed her reproductive organs and put them on the organ rack.

So it was that Lilandara secretly went around preparing herself for the Grand Ball.  Now, Lilandara had certain traits that made her an exemplary Haemonculus.  The first was her perfect memory, and the second was her ability to think of a hundred different points at once.  You can imagine the intensity that was produced when she put them all on a single goal, and she did find results.  Just.... not the ones she had hoped for.

The gorgeous Lhaemean courtesans had long ago taken root in the Archon's Court.  Their beauty and grace were as sinister as their poisonous blood, and it became obvious to Lilandara that she stood little chance the way she was.

You see, being a Haemonculus meant that you did things to yourself when you started the job.  First off, little things like physical appearance went to the wayside.  Most had skin that looked like charred paper and twisted, wrinkled visages that put most normal Eldar on edge.  Not the kind of thing that would work at a ballroom.  Lilandara considered all of the possible options, but there wasn't enough time for something extravagant.  No, no, something more direct and deliberate was necessary.

So it was that the youngest and most beautiful of the Lhaemeans was lured away on a promise for a secretive romp with the young Prince.  She was full of arrogance, pride, and vanity.  Which is perhaps why she was so surprised when Lilandara's creatures came down upon her and did things that made her screams echo long into the night.

The next day, the Grand Ball began and all of the members of the Court were eagerly awaiting the Prince, who swept into the ballroom wearing a grand spiked set of armor, embossed with the Soul Stones of his vanquished foes and flaunting a crimson cape cut from the hide of a Void Whale.  All of the Lhaemeans scampered to the Prince's side and lavished compliments of every kind and colour imaginable.  And the Prince, for the most part, ignored them.  They were pretty little things that adorned the the Court, and he found them rather boring.

Then, he noticed that one of the Courtesans was not joining the crowd.  She seemed different than the rest, looking on from afar, with a kind of strange air that he had never seen before.  Pushing aside the crowd, he stalked towards her and motioned for her to dance with him.

The two danced long into the night, much to the growing rage of the others, who recognized the girl as one of their own, but something was wrong.  Never before was the young girl so self-assured, so methodical in her steps, so utterly... different.

As the Ball ended, it was obvious to all that the Prince had chosen his new consort.  He leaned in to kiss her... and the tightly stitched skin collapsed under the pressure.  It buckled and twisted near the mouth and slid off in a great sheath, revealing to all the monster underneath.

Lilandara stood there, knowing that her ruse was revealed to all.  She had moments to act before the shock was over, but she was well prepared.  The delicate glass covering the dome of the ballroom exploded as her Raider plunged through the frame.  Lilandara leaped aboard as it flew past, fading away into a pinpoint speck in the distance.

A few days later, outraged at the debacle, the Lhaemeans of the Archon's Court masterminded a war between the Kabal and the Coven.  It was a short, but brutal affair.  The Coven bartered for peace by giving up Lilandara to the clutches of the Lhaemeans.

Things did not end well for her.  Arcane science that had been kept secret for centuries were used to torment her.  Her intricate mind was shattered, her memory broken and her body twisted until it was a stunted shadow of its former self.  And then, her still living remains were shuffled out as an example of what happened to those who dared to dream to be more than they are.

Some said that Lilandara's body shriveled and died, picked apart by the many monsters roaming the lower levels.  Others said that the broken pieces somehow put themselves together and found a use in a Kabal under an Archon that shared some features of her lost love.

The Truth?

Now, that is another story...[/spoiler]
« Last Edit: December 09, 2013, 10:24:29 pm by Narric »
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Offline Archon Sharrek

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Re: Winter Writers Short Story Contest [Voting]
« Reply #1 on: December 11, 2013, 01:19:59 am »
I enjoyed reading all of these. Good work to all who entered. And yaaay! I'm an awkward sod.  :P
Taking the theme of Tau and Dark Eldar allies, and having fun with it.

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"Jim-cracking Dandy!" - Evil Emperor Zurg

Offline BigToof

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Re: Winter Writers Short Story Contest [Voting]
« Reply #2 on: December 11, 2013, 02:12:26 am »
Totally Agree.

Thanks Narric for setting this up!

I'm really quite pleasantly surprised with the entries, and I'm also intrigued that I can't place most of the authors (except well, me of course :) ) by their writing style.

Perhaps we should setup something for more fluff possibilities if we have this budding level of quality here on the forums?

Best,
-BT
BigToof Points:

Cammerz: 8
Waaaghpower: 1
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Offline Mabbz

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Re: Winter Writers Short Story Contest [Voting]
« Reply #3 on: December 11, 2013, 07:43:45 am »
I'm pretty sure I recognise your style now that I know you entered. I think I may have voted for you.

Also, I'm an awkward sod too!

Offline BigToof

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Re: Winter Writers Short Story Contest [Voting]
« Reply #4 on: December 11, 2013, 12:35:46 pm »
I'm pretty sure I recognise your style now that I know you entered. I think I may have voted for you.

Also, I'm an awkward sod too!

That's the interesting part, as you're never quite sure until the results pop up!

Best,
-BT
BigToof Points:

Cammerz: 8
Waaaghpower: 1
The Man They Call Jayne: 3
Mabbz: 6
Archon Sharrek: 3

Offline silverfuge

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Re: Winter Writers Short Story Contest [Voting]
« Reply #5 on: December 11, 2013, 03:16:22 pm »
I liked the stories and think I would struggle at a short story. I think all who entered should give themselves a pat. Hope everyone gets at least one vote.
Gm is God

Offline BigToof

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Re: Winter Writers Short Story Contest [Voting]
« Reply #6 on: December 13, 2013, 12:30:45 am »
This is a message to all of you who have not voted, but are considering doing so:

PLEASE VOTE!!!

Narric has told me that less than a dozen people have voted!

I know that it takes time to read all six of the entries, but they are all worth your time!

Please do not delay as the whole thing wraps up sooner than you would think.

We are on the precipice of having really great writing on a consistent basis her on Second Sphere.

I am proud of ALL of our writers and a good turnout from the members and votes thereof would be a great testament to the camaraderie that our site has.  It's the thing that makes us unique compared to all of the other sites where members can be faceless.

So... in closing:

VOTE!

I'm not asking you to vote for me (I admit I do have an entry), but vote for someone!

Feedback is what writers live for and just seeing some kind of acknowledgement for our work would be greatly appreciated :)

Best,
-BT
BigToof Points:

Cammerz: 8
Waaaghpower: 1
The Man They Call Jayne: 3
Mabbz: 6
Archon Sharrek: 3

Offline gorlak

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Re: Winter Writers Short Story Contest [Voting]
« Reply #7 on: December 13, 2013, 10:08:45 am »
Already voted before you posted, but figured I would post something as well.

Was amazed by the high level of writing in these shorts. Haven't read any fiction on 2S before except Bigtoofs batreps, so was really surprised by the quality.

And like the slogan says: Vote then die! :D

Offline InsaneTD

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Re: Winter Writers Short Story Contest [Voting]
« Reply #8 on: December 13, 2013, 11:07:36 am »
I voted. They are all a great read.

Offline Narric

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Re: Winter Writers Short Story Contest [Voting]
« Reply #9 on: December 13, 2013, 09:53:28 pm »
Still no more people have voted :(

Bumping this for more votes, as the voting closes in only a couple days!! :o
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Offline GreaterGoodNewZealand

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Re: Winter Writers Short Story Contest [Voting]
« Reply #10 on: December 13, 2013, 10:13:42 pm »
I've voted. I liked them all and I wish I could have voted for more than one :P
I wrote a tabletop war game! It can be found here  http://thatkiwiguy.wordpress.com/2011/07/20/5/ -  if people wish to read the rules. Still working on some of the factions and most of the background.

Offline Narric

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Re: Winter Writers Short Story Contest [Voting]
« Reply #11 on: December 13, 2013, 10:15:32 pm »
Hmm, thats a good point :P

Alright, I'll set it so people can vote for two entries. Hopefully i won't mes up the poll.

You will have the ability to change your votes yourself ;)
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Offline Narric

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Re: Winter Writers Short Story Contest [Voting]
« Reply #12 on: December 15, 2013, 07:21:57 pm »
Okay, I'm going to do something a little bad here.

This contest really could do with more feedback and voters and voting.

EVERYBODY has two votes to cast each. If you voted before I made that alteration, simply click the "Remove Vote" button, and re-vote. Giving people the ability to change their vote is sommething I have included in all contests, past, present and future.

At present, we still noly have 11 people who have voted. i hate to flog people for not voting, but this simply asks for a bit of time for you to read. If you have a comment about a specific piece, say it, though try not to put it down too much, as you might make others go against their own judgement ;)

Thats all I have to say for now ^_^
Check out my Carrd: https://narrictechna.carrd.co/

Offline Pilum

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Re: Winter Writers Short Story Contest [Voting]
« Reply #13 on: December 15, 2013, 10:30:12 pm »
Added a second for you then, though I don't really have a lot of feedback - there aren't any there that I would judge as really bad in and of themselves, and a part of me doesn't want to give away what I voted for!

However, in the spirit of the thing, and to hopefully spark something off in someone's mind, when I read this in Gears:
Quote
but the shot from the blue box behind him had missed completely
for a second... just a second... I thought we were in for the glorious insanity of a 40k/Mad Dok Wotzizname crossover ;D
A prize from the My Little Warhorse story contest: http://gwarrior456.deviantart.com/art/Its-just-a-little-storm-430546453

Offline InsaneTD

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Re: Winter Writers Short Story Contest [Voting]
« Reply #14 on: December 16, 2013, 04:28:32 am »
I thought that too actually. :P