Fan Fic Contest - Are you the best writer?

[TGRF]

FYI, the story I was going to write ended up being scrapped. I was going for a twist, but as happened with Utgar, the person who knew what was going on was starting to sound like a way better PoV than the person who didn't, but switching PoV's would have negated the twist. Additionally, I realized that the story didn't actually fit the prompt that well.

For these reasons, I've taken another stab at nailing down Dilmir's persistent issues, and will return to the prompt at some point in the future.

~TGRF.

[Elven Lord]

Originally Posted by The Grim Reaper's Friend

FYI, the story I was going to write ended up being scrapped. I was going for a twist, but as happened with Utgar, the person who knew what was going on was starting to sound like a way better PoV than the person who didn't, but switching PoV's would have negated the twist. Additionally, I realized that the story didn't actually fit the prompt that well.

For these reasons, I've taken another stab at nailing down Dilmir's persistent issues, and will return to the prompt at some point in the future.

~TGRF.

You backing out man? You gonna let me take this one without contest? C'mon.

[TGRF]

Originally Posted by Elven Lord

You backing out man? You gonna let me take this one without contest? C'mon.

I didn't say that. There's no deadline, and I have to get Dilmir fixed before my interest wanes again. But I'll return to this soon enough. I will certainly write this before I start writing Dilmir.

~TGRF.

[TheAverageFan]

And who knows who else might show up in the meantime?

~TAF

[Elven Lord]

Originally Posted by The Grim Reaper's Friend

I didn't say that. There's no deadline, and I have to get Dilmir fixed before my interest wanes again. But I'll return to this soon enough. I will certainly write this before I start writing Dilmir.

~TGRF.

Don't worry about it. I'm just bro goading you.

[TGRF]

A bit of an update: I kind of have the seed of an idea for how to write this entry, but not much more than that. No idea of the plot yet.

I've gone ahead and begun writing Dilmir, just because I feel the need to get it done and over with and because I'm not sure yet how to proceed on the contest entry. I'd say there's a good chance I'll just keep writing Dilmir until it's done, which will take a bit. If I hit a slow patch, and I have an idea, I might switch to this entry.

I don't think we're in any rush to get entries, right? So I can take my time?

~TGRF.

[TheAverageFan]

Yes, there's unlimited time to write, though the longer the initial entrants take the more competitors they might totally have

If writing Dilmir 3 is as much of a drag as you've previously implied, I'm sure your interest will drift to this rather quickly.

~TAF

[Elven Lord]

Mine is pretty much done. I just gotta touch it up a bit. Should be ready this week.

[TGRF]

Originally Posted by TheAverageFan

Yes, there's unlimited time to write, though the longer the initial entrants take the more competitors they might totally have

If writing Dilmir 3 is as much of a drag as you've previously implied, I'm sure your interest will drift to this rather quickly.

~TAF

There's one slow bit near the beginning I'm having trouble with, but if I can get past that, the rest of the story should move along pretty well. I'm up to that slow bit now, so we'll see where my interest goes...

~TGRF.

[Elven Lord]

This is fun. Any other submissions aside from TGRF coming?

Spoiler Alert!

“There is nothing worse than putting an architect and an engineer in the same room. One is concerned only with the way things are done while the other speaks only of the practical application. A necessary evil for any project to be done well, true, but nevertheless a…”


“S***show?” Allison cut in.


Veidar paused his pacing and turned slowly to look at his wife. If anyone else had cut him off like that it would be uhh, err, yes the proverbial “s***show,” but Allison had the esteemed privilege of being the only person in Valhalla who could say whatever she wanted to him. His wifu, as she described herself, wasn’t even from Valhalla, or Kyrie. He had summoned her by accident early in the war when he was still getting used to the wellspring. A tumultuous experience it was.


The fiery woman did not appreciate losing her…it took Veidar a good three days to figure out what she was screaming about…cell service. It didn’t help that she sprinkled in various other unfamiliar invectives; “mumpsimus, cockalorum, pillock!” The high-school English teacher really broke out the thesaurus for that one. Then lapsed into somewhat more familiar jargon, “Inconsiderate Tweety Bird!” He fell in love almost immediately.


He sighed, “Yes, my dear, I mean, just look at them,” he motioned with his hand toward the monitor on the table. The Cyborgs had integrated video surveillance into their visual perception systems (VPS) and streamed the feed live to his office. The head architect and engineer in charge of building the 5,000 ft wide bridge over the Salt River were engaged in a furious debate punctuated by much hand waving.



“The plans say ½” lag screws with ½” max diameter sheathing 9” on center, not these…what are these? Nails!?” The head architect, Giuseppe Fellacioni, blustered in his thick Italian accent.


“Ooooh, well screw you too!” The head engineer, Vitruvius Pollio, bellowed back. They were both Italian, with only about 1100 years separating them. The temperament stereotypically assigned to their culture was clearly shared by both. “We don’t have ‘½” lag screws with ½” max diameter sheathing,” he continued mimicking Giuseppe’s 16th century Florentine accent.


“And who’s fault is that!?” Giuseppe charged over him.


“No one’s fault, I just saved us all the trouble of using those useless things by telling manufacturing not to waste good steel on them. We’ll use structural screws and nails. Thank you very much.”


Giuseppe subsided a little bit. There was clearly no getting through Vitruvius’ thick balding skull by yelling at him. As furious as Giuseppe was that the Roman pleb had gone behind his back, he tried to reason, through clenched teeth, instead, “Why is that?”


“It’s all about shear and lateral forces,” Vitruvius replied. He was in his wheelhouse now, explaining the specifics of his trade. Despite Giuseppe’s predisposition to assume Italy had progressed over 1100 years, the truth was that Roman engineers were vastly superior to pretty much anyone in all time except the 21st century, whose architects and engineers still studied Virtuvius’ work religiously, or so the Roman was told by Sergeant Drake Alexander’s military engineers who were swarming over the structure directing crews.


“The generals’ combined armies will be marching over this thing in a few months,” Vitruvius continued, motioning behind him, “The screws will resist lateral forces well enough, but snap under shear forces. The nails are the reverse. Surely you considered that?”


“Of course, I considered that!” Giuseppe snapped, his fragile ego with it, “I’m the master architect here, not you.”


“Oh well, in that case you considered that drilling a ¼” bore for your precious ½” lag screws will only give you ¼” grip, fastened with washers on the other side. The fasteners will loosen and lose integrity as 70,000 soldiers and soulborgs tromp across it day and night, shaking the bridge to pieces. My combined approach gives the bridge the overall stability it needs to resist those forces without putting undo pressure on the fasteners themselves..”


Giuseppe was fuming, but he knew the engineer was right. He hated it but knew. “Fine,” he snapped, “Just make sure you get those structural screws 9” OC on the lateral load connections.”


Vitruvius smiled and nodded amiably turning away, yet he couldn’t resist one more swipe at his temperamental companion, “Lag screws my a**. Why don’t you take those lags and shove them up your–”


And they were back at it.


TZ150 (Tezera), the soulborg streaming the whole thing for Veidar, gave a few amused clicks and whirs then Alestorm began playing loud enough to drown out the sounds of hasty construction and the seemingly louder arguing of the dynamic duo.



Veidar’s head sank into his chest listening to the music. Allison just grinned divishly and sang along.


“Why did these things have to develop a sense of humor?” He chuckled.


Allison paused her sing along long enough to say, “They aren’t called SOULborgs for nothing, you inconsiderate tweety bird.” Then went back to the entertainment, “F***! You! F*** you with an anchor!”

[Elven Lord]

Hey TAF, you wanna drunkenly review the submissions? That'd be hilarious.

[TheAverageFan]

I am finally off my medication so it is possible.

~TAF