EN World Short Story Smackdown - FINAL: Berandor vs Piratecat - The Judgment Is In!
Starman
Adventurer
Round 1: Match 3
Cycle
Sixteenth of Gemmis, 1101 – Year of the Breathless
It ends today.
Spring was full upon the land after a harsh winter and the verdure had returned with a vengeance – the trees so thick, the grass so green as if the vegetation shouted a challenge to the harsh winter gods. The Pelis River, not as blue as it once was being now choked with mud, wound its way through the land dividing the Palios Forest in the east from the hills to the west that rose up to the Akrib Mountains. North along the river could be seen two of the Ynach Towers, ancient monuments built by the Chryfus, ancient sorcerers now long departed from the world. Many of the Onimos devoted their lives to searching for their secrets. Not Axin, however. Not anymore, anyway.
His goal was above him, inside the third Ynach Tower which floated in the sky above him. It was an imposing spectacle. Legends said the towers were carved from the corpse of Gidrakon, the great drake responsible for the Woe of Kalyps and the death of Xifas, renowned king of Irinis. Thirteen of the greatest Chryfus thaumaturges met Gidrakon in battle, but only one, Ynach, survived. As a monument to his fallen brothers, he directed a cabal of sorcerers in raising the towers that now bear his name.
How did he raise it from the earth? His power – and hubris – grow. No matter, Axin thought. Today I reclaim what is mine, what was taken from me. Closing his eyes, the sorcerer calmed his breathing and reached out with tendrils of magic. He pulled in the tiriots, the arcane energy existing in all things, from the cool air in the shadow of the tower. The energy infused him and he felt alive. When he opened his eyes, they flared blue; his was the discipline of agom, that which found power in the cold things of the world – shadows, ice, death. In Axin’s mind, the collected tiriots were a shapeless block requiring the deft touch of an artist chipping away at it until it assumed the form he wanted.Then thin, translucent wings bore him aloft toward the tower and the man he had sworn to kill.
A preternatural calm settled over the sorcerer as he came to rest in front of the massive entrance to the tower. How many times have I chased him? How many times have we battled? No more, it ends now. Drawing on the strength of the icy void in his mind, Axin worked the tiriots against the door. He heard it crack, felt it shudder slightly, and then with a deafening boom, the door shattered. Shards flew in all directions.
“Chrotis,” he called out. Axin’s cool tone somehow made his voice seem louder and belied his murderous intention. He stepped inside the tower. Fires blazed all around – in torches and braziers and standing in front of a large throne, his mortal enemy, clad in orange robes, his face alternating between surprise and hot rage. And there she was, to the right of the Chrotis and just behind him. She looked at Axin with fear or joy, he wasn’t sure. Of course she is scared. This monster has no doubt done unspeakable things to her.
“Think what you are doing, brother,” the orange-clad sorcerer began in a panic. “She loves me, not you.” With the last words, flames shot from his mouth toward Axin, but the icy thaumaturge was prepared. Before the flames had barely left Chrotis’s mouth, a swirling gust of snow spun out from Axin extinguishing the other man’s fiery breath and many of the sources of fire within the room as well. Right on top of that, a dozen small figures took shape in front of Axin. For a brief moment, they resembled blocks of ice before tiny humanoid shapes took form out of the ice. They glided impossibly fast toward Chrotis and began slicing him with their sharp claws. He screamed and began retreating backward. Blood trickling from several wounds, the sorcerer shouted a word of power. The flames from one of the remaining torches suddenly drifted free and began growing and taking shape. Just as Chrotis jumped toward it, the fire had become a bright orange chariot flying toward the ruined door.
“This is not over, brother! Raida is mine. She told me she loves me!” he shouted, the last word trailing off for an interminably long time. Axin quickly forgot the other sorcerer, though, and ran toward the woman by the throne. She had collapsed to the ground and was sobbing gently. Axin fell down to her, clutching her tightly. “I’m here, Raida. It’s over. I’ll never lose you again.”
Raida wrapped her arms around Axin. “It was horrible, so horrible. I prayed every day you would find me and save me.” She continued sobbing on his shoulder. Stroking her blonde hair with one hand, the man held her tight with the other.
“Never again,” he whispered into her hair.
Third of Fannim, 1103, Year of the Fleeting
The fool would hide in a cave. So much the better for me. I tire of this. How many times have I had to fight him to save her?
A warm autumn breeze was blowing whipping the sorcerer’s orange robes around him. Paired with the sunlight, it warmed his blood. Looking ahead, the view served to cool him off just as quickly. He did not relish the thought of entering the yawning maw in front of him. (Pic #2) Besides the fact that he abhorred dark, cold places, this was rumored to be the home of Nychtinkin, a demon escaped from its abyssal realm due to the overconfidence of a Drosh Spiritwalker. His prey was foolish to take refuge in a cage with but one way in or out, but if he was going to pick one, this was probably the best place to do it.
Looking around one more time, the sorcerer approached the cave entrance. Crossing the broken down bridge made him feel uneasy, especially with the stone visage of Yamia, the drake god, leering down at him. Standing on the other side, it seemed to the sorcerer that the wind was not so warm anymore. He rubbed his arms and moved into the inky blackness of the cave.
Chrotis debated whether or not to gather the tiriots for a small light source. It would help him see in the oppressive darkness, especially since he had a hard time extending his senses in an environment like this, but it would also aid the man he had come to kill by making himself easier to spot. He decided to wait and press forward with the little light he had peaking in from the cave entrance. I must still be quiet, though. Chrotis used the fiery hatred within his heart to find tiriots for his spell. Kaiom was his discipline, Onimos mages dedicated to fire. Their power came not just from that which burned, but from light, the sun, and the heat of intense emotions such as lust and anger. In his mind, the tiriots resembled a hungry fire which needed to be stoked. Chrotis did so and created a spell that burned away most of the echo created by his feet.
The fire sorcerer walked until the entrance was the barest pinprick of light. He stopped trying to see if there were any branching paths he had missed, but the smooth walls did not seem to have any branching paths. He walked a ways further and realized that up ahead, there was a faint blue glow. As he walked toward it, the air became cooler and cooler. The temptation to start a giant conflagration was hard to resist as Chrotis felt his teeth clack together. He was too close to his prize to take any chances now, though, so Chrotis rubbed his arms and hands together as he walked toward the blue glow. The temperature continued to drop and by the time Chrotis got to the threshold with the blue glow beyond, it seemed the walls around were made of actual ice.
The sight beyond made the sorcerer’s blood boil. Raida and Axin lied together on a shimmering bed of what looked like ice. The agom mage was whispering something to her as he helped her out of clothing. An inarticulate cry erupted from Chrotis. He flew into the room, his eyes burning. Magical energy coalesced around him, tiriot sparks which grew into a large elemental beast. Axin fell out of his bed, tripping over his clothes trying to stand up. From the ground, he tried to counter the fire elemental with magic of his own, but he was too late. Its shape constantly shifting and dancing, the elemental fell up upon the mage and began pummeling him with his burning fists. Axin screamed and tried to attack again, but was unable to focus long enough to shape his spell.
Chrotis thought his brother would finally die this time, but it was not meant to be. Axin fumbled for his clothes and reached inside a pocket. His charred hand pulled out a small blue stone. Mumbling a word and holding the rock to his forehead, Axin suddenly turned into water. Where the mage had been was now only a pool of water, but one that could move, and fast. The water flowed out of the room, bubbling and hissing as it passed the kaiom mage.
Raida was weeping softly. Chrotis ran to her and gathered her in his arms. “Shhhh. Shhhh. He’s gone now. I promise I won’t lose you this time.” He held her tight, rocking gently.
“I love you, Chrotis. Please don’t lose me again,” she sobbed.
“Shhhh. I won’t,” he whispered.
Ninth of Junnthim, 1124, Year of the Inconstant
Axin snarled as he tangled with Chrotis. Neither had the desire to stand back and throw spells at the other. It was too personal now. Each enchanted their bodies with their favored elements and sought to obliterate the other with their fists. (Pic #3) Axin’s eyes glowed blue as did his right hand. The cold from it could be felt by someone standing fifty paces away. Both of Chrotis’s hands were aflame. His whole body ached to see his brother’s body being at the center of a fire that reached to the heavens. The years of warring had taken a toll on both of them. Their skin was pale, their bodies gaunt. Nothing but the death of the other mattered anymore. And of course their desire for Raida.
A short distance away, in a beautiful grove of trees, Raida stood surrounded by faeries. She carried a handful of flowers for the winner of the battle between Axin and Chrotis. She looked up at the faeries dancing around her head. (Pic #4)
“Hasn’t this gone on long enough?” she asked. “I don’t want to play this game anymore. I don’t want to keep pretending that I love either of them when I don’t.”
One of the little sprites laughed. “Te he he. Maybe you should have thought of that before you broke your vow.”
“But I’ve learned my lesson!” she cried.
“Oh, but we are having so much fun,” another sprite said and they all started laughing.
“But—“ she began, stopping when she heard her voice.
“Raida!” She didn’t know which one of the brothers it was and didn’t care. She could barely tell them apart anymore. Slumping to the ground she began crying and the cycle began again.
Cycle
Sixteenth of Gemmis, 1101 – Year of the Breathless
It ends today.
Spring was full upon the land after a harsh winter and the verdure had returned with a vengeance – the trees so thick, the grass so green as if the vegetation shouted a challenge to the harsh winter gods. The Pelis River, not as blue as it once was being now choked with mud, wound its way through the land dividing the Palios Forest in the east from the hills to the west that rose up to the Akrib Mountains. North along the river could be seen two of the Ynach Towers, ancient monuments built by the Chryfus, ancient sorcerers now long departed from the world. Many of the Onimos devoted their lives to searching for their secrets. Not Axin, however. Not anymore, anyway.
His goal was above him, inside the third Ynach Tower which floated in the sky above him. It was an imposing spectacle. Legends said the towers were carved from the corpse of Gidrakon, the great drake responsible for the Woe of Kalyps and the death of Xifas, renowned king of Irinis. Thirteen of the greatest Chryfus thaumaturges met Gidrakon in battle, but only one, Ynach, survived. As a monument to his fallen brothers, he directed a cabal of sorcerers in raising the towers that now bear his name.
How did he raise it from the earth? His power – and hubris – grow. No matter, Axin thought. Today I reclaim what is mine, what was taken from me. Closing his eyes, the sorcerer calmed his breathing and reached out with tendrils of magic. He pulled in the tiriots, the arcane energy existing in all things, from the cool air in the shadow of the tower. The energy infused him and he felt alive. When he opened his eyes, they flared blue; his was the discipline of agom, that which found power in the cold things of the world – shadows, ice, death. In Axin’s mind, the collected tiriots were a shapeless block requiring the deft touch of an artist chipping away at it until it assumed the form he wanted.Then thin, translucent wings bore him aloft toward the tower and the man he had sworn to kill.
A preternatural calm settled over the sorcerer as he came to rest in front of the massive entrance to the tower. How many times have I chased him? How many times have we battled? No more, it ends now. Drawing on the strength of the icy void in his mind, Axin worked the tiriots against the door. He heard it crack, felt it shudder slightly, and then with a deafening boom, the door shattered. Shards flew in all directions.
“Chrotis,” he called out. Axin’s cool tone somehow made his voice seem louder and belied his murderous intention. He stepped inside the tower. Fires blazed all around – in torches and braziers and standing in front of a large throne, his mortal enemy, clad in orange robes, his face alternating between surprise and hot rage. And there she was, to the right of the Chrotis and just behind him. She looked at Axin with fear or joy, he wasn’t sure. Of course she is scared. This monster has no doubt done unspeakable things to her.
“Think what you are doing, brother,” the orange-clad sorcerer began in a panic. “She loves me, not you.” With the last words, flames shot from his mouth toward Axin, but the icy thaumaturge was prepared. Before the flames had barely left Chrotis’s mouth, a swirling gust of snow spun out from Axin extinguishing the other man’s fiery breath and many of the sources of fire within the room as well. Right on top of that, a dozen small figures took shape in front of Axin. For a brief moment, they resembled blocks of ice before tiny humanoid shapes took form out of the ice. They glided impossibly fast toward Chrotis and began slicing him with their sharp claws. He screamed and began retreating backward. Blood trickling from several wounds, the sorcerer shouted a word of power. The flames from one of the remaining torches suddenly drifted free and began growing and taking shape. Just as Chrotis jumped toward it, the fire had become a bright orange chariot flying toward the ruined door.
“This is not over, brother! Raida is mine. She told me she loves me!” he shouted, the last word trailing off for an interminably long time. Axin quickly forgot the other sorcerer, though, and ran toward the woman by the throne. She had collapsed to the ground and was sobbing gently. Axin fell down to her, clutching her tightly. “I’m here, Raida. It’s over. I’ll never lose you again.”
Raida wrapped her arms around Axin. “It was horrible, so horrible. I prayed every day you would find me and save me.” She continued sobbing on his shoulder. Stroking her blonde hair with one hand, the man held her tight with the other.
“Never again,” he whispered into her hair.
Third of Fannim, 1103, Year of the Fleeting
The fool would hide in a cave. So much the better for me. I tire of this. How many times have I had to fight him to save her?
A warm autumn breeze was blowing whipping the sorcerer’s orange robes around him. Paired with the sunlight, it warmed his blood. Looking ahead, the view served to cool him off just as quickly. He did not relish the thought of entering the yawning maw in front of him. (Pic #2) Besides the fact that he abhorred dark, cold places, this was rumored to be the home of Nychtinkin, a demon escaped from its abyssal realm due to the overconfidence of a Drosh Spiritwalker. His prey was foolish to take refuge in a cage with but one way in or out, but if he was going to pick one, this was probably the best place to do it.
Looking around one more time, the sorcerer approached the cave entrance. Crossing the broken down bridge made him feel uneasy, especially with the stone visage of Yamia, the drake god, leering down at him. Standing on the other side, it seemed to the sorcerer that the wind was not so warm anymore. He rubbed his arms and moved into the inky blackness of the cave.
Chrotis debated whether or not to gather the tiriots for a small light source. It would help him see in the oppressive darkness, especially since he had a hard time extending his senses in an environment like this, but it would also aid the man he had come to kill by making himself easier to spot. He decided to wait and press forward with the little light he had peaking in from the cave entrance. I must still be quiet, though. Chrotis used the fiery hatred within his heart to find tiriots for his spell. Kaiom was his discipline, Onimos mages dedicated to fire. Their power came not just from that which burned, but from light, the sun, and the heat of intense emotions such as lust and anger. In his mind, the tiriots resembled a hungry fire which needed to be stoked. Chrotis did so and created a spell that burned away most of the echo created by his feet.
The fire sorcerer walked until the entrance was the barest pinprick of light. He stopped trying to see if there were any branching paths he had missed, but the smooth walls did not seem to have any branching paths. He walked a ways further and realized that up ahead, there was a faint blue glow. As he walked toward it, the air became cooler and cooler. The temptation to start a giant conflagration was hard to resist as Chrotis felt his teeth clack together. He was too close to his prize to take any chances now, though, so Chrotis rubbed his arms and hands together as he walked toward the blue glow. The temperature continued to drop and by the time Chrotis got to the threshold with the blue glow beyond, it seemed the walls around were made of actual ice.
The sight beyond made the sorcerer’s blood boil. Raida and Axin lied together on a shimmering bed of what looked like ice. The agom mage was whispering something to her as he helped her out of clothing. An inarticulate cry erupted from Chrotis. He flew into the room, his eyes burning. Magical energy coalesced around him, tiriot sparks which grew into a large elemental beast. Axin fell out of his bed, tripping over his clothes trying to stand up. From the ground, he tried to counter the fire elemental with magic of his own, but he was too late. Its shape constantly shifting and dancing, the elemental fell up upon the mage and began pummeling him with his burning fists. Axin screamed and tried to attack again, but was unable to focus long enough to shape his spell.
Chrotis thought his brother would finally die this time, but it was not meant to be. Axin fumbled for his clothes and reached inside a pocket. His charred hand pulled out a small blue stone. Mumbling a word and holding the rock to his forehead, Axin suddenly turned into water. Where the mage had been was now only a pool of water, but one that could move, and fast. The water flowed out of the room, bubbling and hissing as it passed the kaiom mage.
Raida was weeping softly. Chrotis ran to her and gathered her in his arms. “Shhhh. Shhhh. He’s gone now. I promise I won’t lose you this time.” He held her tight, rocking gently.
“I love you, Chrotis. Please don’t lose me again,” she sobbed.
“Shhhh. I won’t,” he whispered.
Ninth of Junnthim, 1124, Year of the Inconstant
Axin snarled as he tangled with Chrotis. Neither had the desire to stand back and throw spells at the other. It was too personal now. Each enchanted their bodies with their favored elements and sought to obliterate the other with their fists. (Pic #3) Axin’s eyes glowed blue as did his right hand. The cold from it could be felt by someone standing fifty paces away. Both of Chrotis’s hands were aflame. His whole body ached to see his brother’s body being at the center of a fire that reached to the heavens. The years of warring had taken a toll on both of them. Their skin was pale, their bodies gaunt. Nothing but the death of the other mattered anymore. And of course their desire for Raida.
A short distance away, in a beautiful grove of trees, Raida stood surrounded by faeries. She carried a handful of flowers for the winner of the battle between Axin and Chrotis. She looked up at the faeries dancing around her head. (Pic #4)
“Hasn’t this gone on long enough?” she asked. “I don’t want to play this game anymore. I don’t want to keep pretending that I love either of them when I don’t.”
One of the little sprites laughed. “Te he he. Maybe you should have thought of that before you broke your vow.”
“But I’ve learned my lesson!” she cried.
“Oh, but we are having so much fun,” another sprite said and they all started laughing.
“But—“ she began, stopping when she heard her voice.
“Raida!” She didn’t know which one of the brothers it was and didn’t care. She could barely tell them apart anymore. Slumping to the ground she began crying and the cycle began again.
Starman
Adventurer
Whew. Just in time. I got slammed with work and ended up writing a good chunk of mine in the last forty-five minutes which means I did almost no proof-reading and didn't get to adjust the formatting for the boards. Ah, well, I had fun with it and hope it's good enough to get to the next round.
Starman
Adventurer
I see that I also forgot to mention where my first picture fit in. It is part of the third paragraph. Don't dock me for that. :embarrassed:
It also looks like my opponent did not make the deadline. What's it going to be madwabbit? I don't want a victory just because my opponent didn't show up. I couldn't have been that intimidating.
It also looks like my opponent did not make the deadline. What's it going to be madwabbit? I don't want a victory just because my opponent didn't show up. I couldn't have been that intimidating.
Dlsharrock
First Post
i hope, if I go through to the next rounds, I don't come up against you Eeralai. That Chili Palmer avatar is *very* intimidating (Yes, I realise I'm the one with the fiery eye of Sauron, but even that pales into insignificance alongside the steely gaze of the world's coolest movie mogul.)
(Yes, I realise I'm the one with the fiery eye of Sauron, but even that pales into insignificance alongside the steely gaze of the world's coolest movie mogul.)
Herremann the Wise
First Post
Judgment - Match Seven / Rodrigo Istalindir vs. tadk
ARWINK’S JUDGMENT
Tadk Report on the Viability of Test Objects and Test Subjects
The curse of ceramic GM: great ideas for stories don’t get a chance to fully percolate before the timeline. I dig tadk’s idea of story-as-test-report, but given the strong reliance on the test-report side of the genre merge it tends to fall a little flat. I kept going over it, looking for the story (as in, conflict that builds and gets resolved) and the connections between the experiments, but if it’s there then I’m missing it. This feels like a grab-bag of ideas without a strong sense of thematic unity, and without that thematic unity and storyline it all feels a little too easy in its picture use. The questions I want answered: What are these test-designs for? What’s at stake with their success or failure? Once that seeps into the narrative a little, affecting the voice of the narrator and the experience of the reader, I think this would become a very different story that uses its report structure effectively instead of relying on it.
Rodrigo Istalindir / The End of the Line
It’s to Rodrigo’s credit that he gives us a familiar set-up and proceeds to make the story his own, quilting together the images into a solid narrative after an opening paragraph that just doesn’t live up to the rest of the story. His set-up’s a tough one to pull off – it’s a familiar trope enough that a well-read genre reader isn’t going to give it an inch – but the story succeeds in creating a believable voice and makes good use of narrative authority to given the events a credibility that far to many science-gone-wrong stories don’t have in early drafts. My quibbles with the piece largely come from a personal dislike of narrative frames that don’t add to the story (and I don’t think the current opening/title does) and the feeling that the canned eel and blue/red genome twins aren’t as strongly woven into the narrative as the girl-in-library and weird-lemur-thing.
The Judgment
Interesting round, with both contestants mining the science angle and putting together weird tales of experimentation. I think Rodrigo Istalindir takes this on the strength of both the story and his picture use, though I’ll give props to Tadk for attempting something relatively out-of-the-box as far as form goes.
THE JUDGMENT OF HERREMANN THE WISE
I’ll start unusually for me by saying that Rodrigo has my vote for this match for a well constructed and written piece that carried my interest from start to finish.
The images for this match were what I personally define as dissonant, lacking any obvious cohesion. As such, part of the joy of judging the entries from this perspective was to see how the competitors would pull them together. Rodrigo did a very solid job of unifying them where as tadk laid some excellent groundwork but failed to tie the images together with a golden thread. I was left wondering, if only tadk could have had these four disparate experiments unified by a common goal, with the ironic conclusions leading to a defining truth or moral. It would have been a truly impressive if unorthodox effort. Alas, we were served with four disparate pieces of research and thus a piece that left me unsatisfied.
To Rodrigo, your writing always has a solidity and strength to it, making you a formidable contestant in any match-up. This piece certainly maintained that standard so congratulations. The direction you took the pictures in was a little surprising but wonderful none-the-less (in fact both contestants had a scientific foundation which I really didn’t see coming).
On a personal note to tadk, I always look forward to reading your entries; I always know I’m going to get something different and I know that one of these times, you are going to really hit the mark. Thank you very much for your efforts and I look forward to seeing that home run!
Judgment: Rodrigo Istalindir
MALDUR’S JUDGMENT
ye people of yore will remember I do my judgement short and to the point , so here goes nothing:
Odd how pictures push towards a certain idea. Especially if the result is so very different, yet with a similar vibe.
tadk, that is a very "different" ... work (cant really call it a story), and a very incoherent one at that. I dont think the different parts (one for each picture) had anything to do with one another, you could have easily used any other picture.
Rodrigo made a decent story, and a pretty sweet, yet tragic, one at that.
The science could have used some more elaboration, yet me as an avid "regenesis" viewer could figure it out .
Judgement: Rodrigo Istalindir
FINAL JUDGMENT
Rodrigo takes the match with all three judges in agreement.
ARWINK’S JUDGMENT
Tadk Report on the Viability of Test Objects and Test Subjects
The curse of ceramic GM: great ideas for stories don’t get a chance to fully percolate before the timeline. I dig tadk’s idea of story-as-test-report, but given the strong reliance on the test-report side of the genre merge it tends to fall a little flat. I kept going over it, looking for the story (as in, conflict that builds and gets resolved) and the connections between the experiments, but if it’s there then I’m missing it. This feels like a grab-bag of ideas without a strong sense of thematic unity, and without that thematic unity and storyline it all feels a little too easy in its picture use. The questions I want answered: What are these test-designs for? What’s at stake with their success or failure? Once that seeps into the narrative a little, affecting the voice of the narrator and the experience of the reader, I think this would become a very different story that uses its report structure effectively instead of relying on it.
Rodrigo Istalindir / The End of the Line
It’s to Rodrigo’s credit that he gives us a familiar set-up and proceeds to make the story his own, quilting together the images into a solid narrative after an opening paragraph that just doesn’t live up to the rest of the story. His set-up’s a tough one to pull off – it’s a familiar trope enough that a well-read genre reader isn’t going to give it an inch – but the story succeeds in creating a believable voice and makes good use of narrative authority to given the events a credibility that far to many science-gone-wrong stories don’t have in early drafts. My quibbles with the piece largely come from a personal dislike of narrative frames that don’t add to the story (and I don’t think the current opening/title does) and the feeling that the canned eel and blue/red genome twins aren’t as strongly woven into the narrative as the girl-in-library and weird-lemur-thing.
The Judgment
Interesting round, with both contestants mining the science angle and putting together weird tales of experimentation. I think Rodrigo Istalindir takes this on the strength of both the story and his picture use, though I’ll give props to Tadk for attempting something relatively out-of-the-box as far as form goes.
THE JUDGMENT OF HERREMANN THE WISE
I’ll start unusually for me by saying that Rodrigo has my vote for this match for a well constructed and written piece that carried my interest from start to finish.
The images for this match were what I personally define as dissonant, lacking any obvious cohesion. As such, part of the joy of judging the entries from this perspective was to see how the competitors would pull them together. Rodrigo did a very solid job of unifying them where as tadk laid some excellent groundwork but failed to tie the images together with a golden thread. I was left wondering, if only tadk could have had these four disparate experiments unified by a common goal, with the ironic conclusions leading to a defining truth or moral. It would have been a truly impressive if unorthodox effort. Alas, we were served with four disparate pieces of research and thus a piece that left me unsatisfied.
To Rodrigo, your writing always has a solidity and strength to it, making you a formidable contestant in any match-up. This piece certainly maintained that standard so congratulations. The direction you took the pictures in was a little surprising but wonderful none-the-less (in fact both contestants had a scientific foundation which I really didn’t see coming).
On a personal note to tadk, I always look forward to reading your entries; I always know I’m going to get something different and I know that one of these times, you are going to really hit the mark. Thank you very much for your efforts and I look forward to seeing that home run!
Judgment: Rodrigo Istalindir
MALDUR’S JUDGMENT
ye people of yore will remember I do my judgement short and to the point , so here goes nothing:
Odd how pictures push towards a certain idea. Especially if the result is so very different, yet with a similar vibe.
tadk, that is a very "different" ... work (cant really call it a story), and a very incoherent one at that. I dont think the different parts (one for each picture) had anything to do with one another, you could have easily used any other picture.
Rodrigo made a decent story, and a pretty sweet, yet tragic, one at that.
The science could have used some more elaboration, yet me as an avid "regenesis" viewer could figure it out .
Judgement: Rodrigo Istalindir
FINAL JUDGMENT
Rodrigo takes the match with all three judges in agreement.
