Monthly Writing Assignment (July Edition)

[Croswynd]

Beware, these stories may contain spoilers on Gears fiction and game. Please DO NOT USE THIS THREAD AS A CONVERSATION THREAD, as this will be used for entries only. Conversation thread can be found here: http://forums.epicgames.com/threads/...ary-Edition%29

This is the Monthly Assignment, July Edition.

Writing is why most of you may have clicked on this thread. Boredom may be another factor, but the point remains. As of late, there has been a distinct lack of writing on this forum. Whether that be because people are bored with their stories, want a break from the forum, or just because they don't write in the first place, I have a solution.

The Monthly Writing Assignment.

Originally developed on another writing forum, I've noticed great success in its functions and capabilities. Writers from all over the forum all come to one thread, ready to duke it out to see who can craft the best story, judge the stories, or just to look for some feedback on their writing skill. That last part's the important bit for most of us, I'd bet.

Usually three judges are the norm for this assignment, but since we have a shortage of any regular attendees of the forum, I will take it upon myself to be the constant judge for these Assignments, until we find someone who would like to judge with me. If such a case arises, I may trade in for being an entrant. We'll see. However, should you wish to nominate yourself for judging, please say so. The more the merrier and I'm absolutely sure people want as many views on their work as possible.

Rule Time:

Now, each monthly assignment will be based around a single topic, such as vague topics like "Survival", or even specific ones such as "Stranded". As a rule, you must conform to the month's topic in order to have a valid entry. Being a judge, I will see how well you conformed to the topic and rate your score accordingly.

ANY WRITER IS FREE TO SUBMIT ONE ENTRY, BUT NO MORE THAN ONE. That said, I hope many of you decide to submit something. Writing is fun, trust me! And don't feel as though you're not good enough for this. Anyone can enter!

YOU CAN NO LONGER EDIT ONCE YOU HAVE SUBMITTED. MAKE SURE YOU FINISH ALL EDITING BEFORE POSTING. Anyone with an edit tag beneath their entry will be disqualified. This is to teach you to edit before posting anything, and if you have something wrong, you must live with it.

At the end of the month, the winner will be decided based on how good her/his score is and will be able to pick from a pool of suggestions the topic of the next month. The reward for winning is to pick the next topic! So try your best, guys! Also, thanks to a generous Flak and Epic Games, winners receive a signed Gears of War novel.

Now, for some guidelines, which have been changed. Be sure to read them.

- Must be prose. Recommended to be above 1000 words and below 10,000 words.
- Must be based around the month's topic.
- Must be in before the deadline, which is the end of the month. (July 31st, in this case)

Simple enough, eh? Just write, make it something good, since you're going to be spending a month on it. Make it the best thing you've ever written, even! Still, if you just want to shove something in at the last second, I'll still grade it to tell you how you did.

Speaking of grading, here's the template I'll use when judging your entries, which has been modified to make it easier on the judges:

Grading guidelines:

Spelling & Grammar - /2
Ease of Read - /2
Use of Topic - /1
Entertainment - /5
Originality - /5
Quality - /5

Total -- /20

Judges:
Croswynd

So there you have it. If you have any questions at all about the assignment, please feel free to send me a private message or post in the Discussion thread. Again, please DO NOT USE THIS THREAD AS A CONVERSATION THREAD, as this will be used for entries only.

Got all that? Good, now let's get some entries on the following topic!

[Underground]

[SKORGE]

This is a heavily adapted and altered one to what I really wanted to do, at first. This... just kind of formed on its own and well I went ahead and posted it. Its kind of trashy, almost tasteless and I'm not at all too confident in its story-telling nor its point. Its a little different from what I mostly write and some people might detest it, or find themselves offended. Some. Not all of you. Some of you are sick, sick people.


*Contains Strong Language
*Scenes of violence that may disturb some

Twisted Rebel

“You’re a Rebel of the motherf*cking Underground!”

I slipped my Boltok out of my back pocket and into place as I lay prone in the over-grown grass atop a large super-market that was still standing 14 years after E-Day.

“We’re not soldiers, we’re killers!”

I aimed down the sights of the revolver, catching a glimpse of a crumbling world across the street, its murky image the poster-child of a world lost. A destroyed beauty.

“Live the life of sin ‘till the bloody end!”

I set my sights on the target I’d been waiting for. I stopped and waited, my breathing slowed down, my body fixated with its current position.

“Ready to die from birth, living with no mercy, no remorse!”

I pulled the trigger. The revolver jerked under the recoil and the untrained hands that held it. The target on the other end of the barrel went limp as his head splattered against the wall, sending brain chew rippling into the faces of the others too scared to move.

I killed the little sh*t, all because his b*tch of a mother f*cked with the wrong guy. That’s right, I killed her nine-year-old son, otherwise she wouldn’t get the message.

+++

I rose up, opening fire on the rest of them, hitting the dead brat’s mother twice, once in the shoulder and once in the left eye. Blood sprayed everywhere, hitting the walls and people around her. It was a frigging sight to see!

“What now, b*tch?” I shouted as I fired into the crowd of people down on the street below, not giving a damn who I hit in the process. They were all gonna’ be sorry they f*cked with James Grimes.

I’m a Rebel of the Underground, not some pansy-ass joe-blow they could take advantage of. We run this part of town, f*ck with a Rebel, f*ck with death! They paid the price, because I ain’t no damn push-over. I came equipped, do business or you get the business end of my Boltok. That’s just the way it is. That goes for everyone, not just the f*cking One Percent b*tches!

I made a dash for the in-tact doorway which lead down a set of stairs, leading off of the roof, allowing me a quick get-away. I had to move fast because I’d probably attracted attention to this spot. I didn’t want no Grubs showing up on my ass while I made a run for it. Sh*t, a man don’t want nothin’ to do with them when he busy taking care of his own business.

As I ran, I emptied my boltok revolver, letting the six shells scatter on the ground underneath my feet. The shimmering gold tubes rolled down the staircase as I smashed through to the bottom-floor.

I reached into my jacket and grabbed a handful of ammunition, shoving a few rounds into the chamber and letting the extra fall. Sh*t, stupid, stupid move on my part. Ammo like that was hell trying to find out here, but I wasn’t going to get killed over some stupid rounds ‘a ammunition. Besides, I could always just find another dead Grub the COG-pigs left behind.

As I thudded to the bottom of the stairs, I flew into the doorway with the broken ‘exit’ sign hanging above it. The door almost came crashing down as the force of my entire body shook it loose off its hinges.

I emptied out onto the street and saw a few of the survivors running west. I couldn’t resist, them One-Percent b*tches had to get the message. I jogged after ‘em with my boltok pointed at their backs.

Grinning, I let off a few rounds, “yeah b*tch, get some!”

I missed my first two shots, hitting a car and sending it ringing like a howling dog. Sh*t, how the **** was its alarm still working? It didn’t matter though, if you heard the alarm, you sure as hell heard the shots I was taking at these scared One-Percent *****'s.

I fired four times, consecutively, one right after the other before I finally hit one of ‘em. He dropped like a sack full a ****, hitting the ground and not moving an inch afterwards.

“Hah, you thought you could f*ck with Grimes and get away with it?” I shouted, shooting my boltok one more time before emptying to reload.

The ground started to shake underneath my feet and I knew what was comin’. I almost lost my balance as the shaking got harder and harder, but I didn’t let them running cowards in front of me get outta’ my sights.

Finally, I heard the ground cracking and crumbling behind me, sh*t, the Grubs sure did pick the best 'o times to crawl outta' they hole and it looked like they were comin' to join the party.

I continued to run after the few remaining survivors, slowly catching up to ’em as I popped off a few more rounds here or there. They seemed to be all women now, the coward-ass punk men in the camp being killed off like the One-Percent rats they were.

“Where the f*ck is Moses, now? Where he at?” I hollered at them, taunting them with insults directed toward their camp leader, Moses Lowe.

I didn’t know where the Grubs was at, but I hadn’t been shot in the back yet, so I guess they’d run off somewhere else. Maybe a couple a COG-pigs were roaming the streets and they’d keep the Grubs busy for me while I cleaned up the mess I’d made.

“You’re finished!” I shouted to the frightened women, many of them pregnant, “the One-Percent is dead, you coulda’ joined when you had the chance, but you ****ed up and now ya’ gonna’ pay with your lives!”

The One-Percent and Moses had been messin' in the wrong part of town for a long time now. They were finally gettin' what was coming to 'em and it wasn't going to be pretty. The 'Underground', as the downtown-eastside was known as, was run by the Infamous Rebel Alliance of the Underground. We didn't take sh*t from no other Stranded livin' in this city. If you wasn't a Reb, you got your ass taxed. This was our town and the One-Percent b*tches from the west-docks were movin' in, thinking they could hunt and gather, do business, on our turf! These little cowering b*tches had been a thorn on my side for too long now, and it was pay-back time for what they'd done!
.
I raised my boltok and fired into the women, dropping two of ‘em as blood splattered from their backs and they fell without hesitation. I almost tripped over one of ‘em who was still squirming around, trying to grab my food.

Sh*t, this b*tch thought she could embarrass me! Nobody f*cking embarrasses James Grimes. I shoved my boltok toward the woman’s chest and fired three rounds, all close range. I raised my bloody revolver and spat on the dead b*tch before running after them other c*nts.

There was four of them b*tches left and I was getting tired of f*ckin’ runnin’ after ‘em. But these little wh*res had embarrassed me too much. They f*cked with me and I was gonna get ’em back for it! My broken nose, the ass-kicking I had gotten at their hands? Yeah, these little b*tches were gonna’ pay!

“Set me up again, b*tch!” I yelled as I chased after them, saving all my rounds this time, until I was sure I had a better shot.

The women had run into a windowless store and I knew they were hidin’ in it, because this was the same store I’d met these c*nts. I cockily strutted into the store through the front door, making a ringing noise in the absence of a real bell.

“Hey, hey, hey, where my little b*tches at?” I asked, boltok pointed outward and slowly pressing through each aisle.

“Ya’ll thought you had a good laugh at ol’ Grimes expense, eh? Thought it was cool how ya’ll lead me into the back and got me my ass handed to by ya’ll fat husbands, eh?”

No reply.

The silence only fuelled my anger even more, “you were f*cking wrong! You shouldn’t have f*cked with the Rebels, you dumb-wh*res. Maybe I mighta’ let ya’ll live if you hadn’t piss me off so much!”

I approached a door leading to the back-room. There was nowhere else for them to have gone, they were trapped.

“Oh well,” I snorted, “maybe I’m doin’ yall a service?”

Opening the door, I came across them huddled in the back room. I smiled, angrily lifted my boltok and pointed it at the group of ‘em. They cried out, pleading with me not to shoot them, to spare them, that they’d do anything for me. Some even offered sexual favours in return for their lives, but it didn’t matter what they could offer me. I didn’t want it.

I opened fire.

The boltok ripped through the women, their tears mixing with blood as chunks of their flesh tore off the bone and blood sprayed the walls around them. After expending all six shots into the already-dead women, I counted ‘em all, going over each lifeless face.

Wait --

Before the realization sunk it, it was too late. I felt a jolting pain strike my back as I fell to my knees, dropping my boltok. There was a body missing, the fourth one had managed to get around me and sink in a pair of scissors into my lower back!

“You son-of-a-b*tch!” she cried as I struggled to get the scissors out of my back, “you killed them all! You killed them all you twisted f*ck!”

She shrieked out in a frenzy, hitting me with her hands over and over, knocking me on my stomach and onto my boltok.

“F*ck you and f*ck Moses!” she cried, “you killed our children you f*cking monster!”

She attempted to kick me while I was down, but I managed to grab her ankle just in time and bring her down. Dropping her to the ground, I crawled on top of her and smacked her across the face with the back of my hand.

“F*ck me? F*ck me?” I gritted through my teeth, “no, f*ck you, b*tch!”

I wrapped my hands around her neck and began to strangle her, her face turning pale and her grip on my wrist’s getting weaker and weaker. Finally, she stopped breathing and went limp. I got off her, breathing heavily before reaching around back and pulling the scissors out in great pain.

I dropped the bloody scissors next to the crazy b*tch and looked around for my boltok. I found it lying next to the edge of the room, kicked in the scuffle and brushed it off before reloading and walking toward the exit.



"You kill the f*ckin’ women of a camp and the motherf*cker’s won’t have no soldiers left to keep on fightin’!" - George Stamford, Infamous Rebel Alliance of the Underground Gang-lord, one believed by the COG to have been the one giving the orders during the bloody gang-war of Ehpyra.

[DJ CARNIV AL]

Revenge

Patience

Waiting. In one of the many creases that mar my battle scarred forehead a tiny bead of cold sweat forms, I feel it, I feel everything, I am honed, alert and ready.
The bead grows and slowly starts to descend into my one good eye. I want to wipe it away, so badly, but I cannot move for my prey approaches and to move now could mean the difference between certain death and oh so sweet success, the success, the prize, the revenge.
I allow myself one blink to clear my vision and slowly take my next breath as the hated enemy approaches, my confidence rising with every carefully controlled heartbeat.
This creature is foolish, noisy and clumsy as it loudly steps and kicks their way across the rough ground before coming to a rest near a stony ruin just out of sight.
I allow my body to relax for a moment, easing my tired muscles from their cramped stance. My ambush spot was hard to find, a small and shadowed hollow in a large boulder, it’s perfectly hidden from the oncoming path, the only path my prey can take to escape this deathly place.
Ruins surround the area, every few moments the ground shakes with the sound of more ruins being freshly made in bullets, blood and stone far below this winding rocky path. Small critters occasionally scuttle by, fleeing the carnage ahead of my cowardly prey.
The creature is disgusting, preening itself while it rests on the rock, dead skin flakes and hair fall on to the planets sacred earth as it scratches at half healed wounds, it doesn’t belong here, disgusting.
A sharp ring followed by a shimmer of light catches my attention, I tense with narrowing anger and hatred filling my good eye, that blade.


Ambush

“CHARGE!”.
The ground shakes and the air is filled with dust, sweat, battle cries and sharp tang of bullets and blood. Locusts die en masse as the well drilled warriors of the Coalition smash through them without warning. The distinct clattering of precision Lancer rounds rings in the ears and the hot deadly rounds ring true in Locust flesh, not even the tough hides can protect them and soon the sounds of the dying out weigh the fearful calls of the living.
The warriors advance further into the enemy position, a ruined outpost near the Hollow surface, the remaining Drones scattered and seemingly leaderless begin to flee.
“FOR THE HOOORDEE!!!” demands a loud shrill but authorative voice, a Kantus priest rises from the bodies of dead & dying Locust dripping in the moist gore of the still warm mix of bloody dismembered limbs and wounded. The human ambushes halt suddenly as a white flash drains the light from the already gloomy surroundings.
“RIIIIIISSSSSE!” screams the Kantus, as the once wounded warriors lift to the air in the light before rejoining the newly formed ranks. The COG dive for cover as return fire hits their positions hard from the revitalised defenders, several fall screaming in mists of blood fatally wounded.
An unseen object thumps through the front lines from afar and into a surprised soldier, he looks down at his chest confused, grasping at the metal embedded in his chest before exploding in a shower of red vapour and mashed intestines. “TORQUE BOW!” shouts his squad leader fearfully before another bolt smashes his head like a melon in a vice. The bolt continues its deadly course penetrating the armoured leg of another COG, his screams of pain brought to an abrupt halt with another shower of human particles covering those around him. The COG are broken.


Lift way to hell!

The grind lifts were never his preferred mode of transport but the thought of kicking Locust asses in their own backyard was so damn good to Clayton that he savoured it like a well seasoned steak, “Mmmmm…steak!” He muttered to himself, just the thought of food almost took his mind away from the almost unbearable noise and shaking of the grind lift. He didn’t mind travelling alone, his huge weapon, a requisitioned Grinder, was all the company he needed, but he wasn’t too happy about being stranded on his own if the lift missed the LZ. Stranded, with Antony gone and his other brothers’ god knows where he could be the last for all he knew, the last Carmine. He shook the thought from his mind as the lift began to slow to a halt, ready to get some payback for his fallen brother and slaughter the rest in arrears just in case.

The lift was slowing further and shaking ever more violently against the harder rocks toward Sera’s core, Clayton held his hand rails tight till his knuckles were tensed white and bulging with strain.
Jerked suddenly onto his side Clayton is knocked heavily and his trusty helmet crashes against the capsule side, his visions sent swimming.


For the Horde!

The Locust smelled victory as the humans so called warriors fled for their lives among the further battered ruins of the Locust outpost.
Jalritt, proud Kantus and chief of the outpost looked down upon his minions proudly but also relieved. Many Locust warriors had died in the initial conflict but luckily the humans had broken quickly on the arrival of a crack shot Theron elite and his entourage of Hunters.
The humans were a stain, a corruption, disgusting creatures that they would stop at nothing to remove from their sacred home. Today was just the beginning for his minions, this victory would earn them much honour and the high priest would reward him.
They gathered around the last of the dead humans, there bodies mutilated and scattered during the final savage assault. Locust blades had met Chainsaws but the humans were too weak and afraid. Soon their own weapons were turned on them, metal teeth chewing through bone and sinew like meat in a blender. Blood curdled screams had rang through the air amid cries of victory from deep inhuman throats.
A mere two had escaped the massacre but not for long, an experience Hunter, Karryt, had been sent with his sinister blade to deliver painful deaths.
Jalritt’s smile widened at the very thought of their pathetic cries for mercy, delicious.
He was about to have the warriors return to their posts when a large stone fell and hit Drone next to him knocking him unconscious.
More stones and larger rocks started falling all around, the ground started to shake and the path behind them cracked and fell away.
The walls around them began to crack too, the noise deafening, until with a gigantic blast of heat and rock debris the grind lift blasted through the wall.
The locust stood in frozen shock, large pieces of debris had pinned them in and with no where to run many leapt over the ledge behind them into the Hollow depths below as the grind left carved a path through rock and locust a like.

With a hiss of hydraulics and clatter of falling steel the grind lift door fell open onto the Hollow floor. Rubble from the impact littered the area, gore stained boulders dripping, unidentifiable body parts scattered over them.

“Ouch! Damn piece of crap. Next time I’m taking the stairs!” Clayton complained as he literally fell out of the capsule. He stretched his arms out while taking in his now quiet surroundings.
“Holy ssssh….” He was lost for words, the sight of so many dead struggling to register.
He kicked a carcass of a half crushed Kantus, smiling broadly.
“Ha ha, piece of **** didn’t see that coming.”
Then he noticed a bloodied set of COG tags. As he knelt to gather the tags his eyes caught sight of more remains, more blood, more fallen, more brothers. They may not be in his blood but their blood of his brothers in arms was his people’s blood.
It was then that he noticed movement along the path behind him, an injured Locust was clawing away up along the track.
His blood burned, his anger grew, his hand reached for his trusty dagger, the one with his brother’s name etched on its shaft.
In four eager long strides he’d reached the bloodied creature, human eyes met ugly fear filled yellow glowing beads. He lifted his hands and grasped his helmet, removing it and placing it on the hard blood soaked ground. He drew the knife in his hand back, held steady as a sharp deep breath was taken.
Exhale.
The knife dropped.
The knife rose.
Then it dropped again and back and again and again and again.
Warm locust blood covered his arm and face. He sheathed the knife and wiped his face with the back of his clean hand while spitting on the corpse.
Then, then he noticed more movement. Further up the track another creature fled into the shadows.
“Arrr not again!” he moaned.
He picked himself up reluctantly and up headed along the track.

“Man this is taking forever.”
A few hours had passed but Clayton wasn’t tired, he was bored. He’d been tracking the Locust for so long that he was fast losing interest with it and decided to take a break. He hadn’t seen any other COG or enemy forces, not surprisingly as the path ascended toward the Hollow entrance and the main fighting was pushing further toward Sera’s core.
He sat down among some small ruins and stretched out. He scratched an itch from an old scar and blew his nose on to the floor. It was a nasty habit but better out than in as mom used to say to him.
He undid his belt and placed it down before drawing his knife.


That blade

The time was now. They creature was completely unaware and, except for that blood stained knife, was unarmed. Karryt only had his own blade but he was an experienced Hunter, a ruthless killer. The COG that had fled had died painful and viscous deaths at his scaly hands. But they weren’t enough, he’s witnessed the helmeted warrior slaughter all his fellow warriors in a freak assault then insult his home with a violent massacre, a massacre with that filthy blade.

“FOR THE HORDE!!” Screamed Karryt as he charged toward the surprised helmeted warrior.


For Antony

“What the hell!”
Clayton barely had time to raise his knife in parry as a the Locust Hunter descended on him, lunging with a sickle like blade.
They shared several sharp parries by the ruins edge but Clayton was unprepared and off balance, his footing slipped, his blade fell from his grasp and soon he would be dead.

Karryt’s large brutish and scarred figured loomed over him intently. The clawed knife brandishing talon swept back before darting forward sweeping the blade in a deadly arch toward his throat. The tip of the blade grazed his neck drawing a hint of fresh, fast flowing blood as it pumped heavily through his veins. But before it could continue its fatal path the creature’s weight shifted, it teetered for just a moment on the paths edge. Karryt looked stunned and glanced at the item on the floor, such a simple thing had swept him to his certain death.
Clayton watched on as the Locust fell slowly back down in to the Hollow depths before retrieving his brother’s tags from the floor.

“That ones for Antony!”

He placed his new lucky charm back round his belt and carried on back up the path, a huge grin across his face.

[Croswynd]

SKORGE

Spelling & Grammar - 1/2
Ease of Read - 1/2
Use of Topic - 0/1
Entertainment - 2/5
Originality - 3/5
Quality - 3/5

Total -- 10/20

Can't say I enjoyed this one overmuch. On to the review.

Well, if nothing else, you had spelling going for you. Grammar went along with it pretty well until around the halfway point, when the already ghetto speech and thoughts melted into your actual sentences. 'I didn't know where the Grubs was at' was one sentence that didn't need to follow the character's way of speech, since it wasn't really a direct thought. Would have been better the correct way, at least in my opinion.

Ease of Read suffered a lot because I had a hard time parsing through the gigantic amount of stuff that just... wasn't fun to read. The ghettoness itself was pretty bad, but then you had all these curse words that you sometimes censored correctly and other times didn't. Some of the sentences degraded later, like I said, and turned into something that gives me a headache just thinking about. Still, I manged to read through it all, regardless. It was on the verge of terrible, but saved itself somehow.

Use of Topic: I'm not entirely positive this story was actually about 'Underground'. I understand that you included Underground as the name of the group the man was part of, but it was really just a label you used. If you had included more members of this gang, maybe it would have been better, but as it was, it wasn't entirely on topic.

My entertainment was mediocre, to say the least. I wasn't invested in the story, the characters, or even in the women and men you mercilessly slaughtered throughout it. There was an overwhelming 'meh' about the whole story, one you've told me you feel yourself. Well, SKORGE, this definitely wasn't your best work, at all. Not much to say that you don't already know here.

Originality was given points for being Stranded on Stranded. Still, nothing was really original about this whole piece. It felt like a glorified god mode rampage.

Quality was just not. I repeat everything I've said before here. Sorry, SKORGE.


DJ CARINV AL

Spelling & Grammar - 0/2
Ease of Read - 1/2
Use of Topic - 0/1
Entertainment - 3/5
Originality - 3/5
Quality - 2/5

Total -- 9/20

Uh, not sure what I just read, really.

Spelling and Grammar were utterly wiped out by the heavy amount of errors scattered through every sentence. Most of the sentences, too, were run-ons that went on far longer than they should have. In fact, they may have been the majority, unfortunately. Editing is something you need to have in order to write, regardless of how tired one is. But don't fret, good news is in this review.

Ease of Read, however, is not where the good news comes in. Due mostly to your sentences being completely, ah, not real sentences, I had a hard time reading through this. It really didn't help that you kept switching perspectives without much rhyme or reason. The first 'part' I didn't even know what character I was following or even where the scene was taking place. As soon as you got past Carmine's first part, the whole story kind of fell away and it just turned into... a mushy pile of words.

Use of Topic was marked off because I didn't get a sense that the story was set in Underground. It really didn't say anything until the very end, even with the Grindlift (I think?) that Carmine rode down to the Hollow. In fact, I was pretty much lost the entire story.

Entertainment, however, was high for a very specific reason: The second 'part' was pretty nice. Even if it suffered from the poor sentence structure like the rest of the story, I could actually follow along and envision a big battle. Maybe that's due more to my imagination than your writing and maybe it isn't, but you get points for that part anyway. The first part was relatively okay, as well, but the rest was just all over the place.

Originality was given an average mark because I didn't really know what was going on. I mean, there's a sniper I think in the beginning and then a big battle. After that, a scene with the Locust and then Carmine. Back to Locust, back to Carmine. Of course, if I'm right and Carmine is the one you're using and we're in the time period where the Landown Assault happens, then it's somewhat original. Nothing I've ever seen explored with Clay during this time.

Quality was trash, but that's okay. You'll get better, I'm sure and you rushed this. With the next month coming up, you'll have an entire 30 days to do what you need to do. Editing is a -big- thing you need to be getting into. Get other people to check your work, too, because even I miss stuff if I'm the only one checking my work.



Better luck next time, gents. SKORGE wins, such as it is. Hoping for better entries this month, because these were both self-admittedly rushed.