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I really only had one thought when I saw the name on the roster next to mind, and it looked something like a question mark made out of repeating rows of WTF.
I'm no bigot; I went to public school along with Martians and Orokins and Minbari. I don't have any problems with people from other worlds. But I'd never heard of War before, and when literally every line -- age, gender, world or origin, etc. -- said "War," I had a feeling I was about to enter a very hostile environment.
I moved in first, which left me in perpetual fear that I would wake up squished beneath some kind of gargantuan laser blaster or gravity cannon. I thought about locking the door from the inside, but then I figured it would be a tiny inconvenience to someone who was War feet tall and probably three hundred Wars heavy. It might make them annoyed, though.
The day before the semester started, I got an email from the registrar.
"Sorry, your roommate has been delayed! They won't arrive for another two weeks," the woman said from behind the largest glasses I had ever seen. "You know how intergalactic transport can be! Anyway, we were hoping you could just take a look at this roommate agreement form in the meantime."
I wondered if I was the first pacifist to ever try to get War to sweep the Earth. I tucked the agreement away and tried my best not to think about how I was going to die before I even got to attend student org night.
This doesn't mean that I didn't prepare at all. In fact, within a week, War had already done me a favor. I had entered undeclared, but after a long talk with my dad, I decided that psychology might be a good bet. I enrolled in as many intergalactic courses as they allowed me to, and when I bumped up against the prerequisites, showing the teachers my housing portal was enough to get the more conservative ones to let me in immediately.
I got so caught up in preparing for War that I almost (entirely) forgot to be scared when they showed up.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
"Oh no! I'm so--"
I stopped screaming. What?
War was very, very, very War. That was all I could really think. They were at least eight feet tall and built of what appeared to be solid, rocky muscle. They could probably eat Dwayne Johnson and his cheat meal spread for breakfast and not even feel it. Their skin was a pleasant grayish color that was crisscrossed with scars and intricate tattoos showing battles in impressive amounts of color.
I couldn't describe their face if I tried. It was just... pure force.
But something was niggling around in the back of my mind. Their voice was kind of like a gunshot fired from a rusty rifle, but it was... apologizing?
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry for scaring you! Would you like some food? I know the waffle maker is a fire hazard, but I'm fireproof and promise to be super careful. We can hide it in my carry-on when the fire marshal gets here!"
I was too stunned to respond, which War took as an opportunity to hand me the most beautiful plate of crepes (not waffles?) that I had ever seen. Buttery, light, adorned with strawberries... this was probably a dream where Freud was about to pop out and tell me I wanted to bang my mom.
"How?"
"I know, I know, the edges are a little burnt, but I'm doing my best. The food on War is all War: it's supposed to be protein only, and that's just no fun! I may have gone a little overboard with the pastry, though..."
I looked behind War and wondered if I would wake up if a train ran me over. The food. THE FOOD. It was everywhere. The windowsill was covered in bonbons wrapped in rice paper, and my desk was littered with cupcakes and macarons in every shade of color (even some ones I was sure didn't exist on Earth). Even my pillow had become home to a small chocolate torte, which I immediately popped in my mouth, ignoring my morning breath as pure perfection melted across my tongue.
"Do... do you like it?"
I scoured all of my new psychology knowledge (Maslow's hierarchy of bees, Young Ian psychology, etc.) for a way to express how extraordinary happy I was.
In the end, I offered War my hand and only winced a little bit when they squeezed it WAY too hard.
"I think we're going to be great friends," I mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate muffin. "As long as you don't give me a heart attack first."
The smile they wore when they responded "sure" could only be described as War. | 26 | In a world that has normalized alien contact, your best friend in college is your roommate. He is a member of a powerful warrior alien species who nonetheless is going to college to learn Earth cooking customs in hopes of opening his own restaurant. | 116 |
Let me tell you, being stationed on Earth was the absolute worst.
We thought that after Earth had been “subdued,” we were going to be the first non-Human species to conquer the planet in known galactic history. Spoiler alert: we aren’t going to. Nobody will ever conquer that place. No kingdom, empire, or coalition of liberators will ever win the war for Earth because the only way to beat Humanity is to destroy it.
I signed up for the Olekan Expeditionary Army with dreams of adventure and siblinghood with my fellow soldiers. The empire was snowballing back then. We’d incorporated seven worlds in the last two standard years. Earth was simply going to be a stepping stone, a checkpoint to station forces from so that we could invade outer Skoi territory. The last five alien invasions should have been warning enough, but pride often blinds you to probability. It makes you think you’re invincible. To be fair, the invasion went nearly perfectly. We’d pretty much taken over after eight months of fighting. It had been easy. When the atmospheric marines were replaced by standard army forces, we learned of our mistake. Humans don’t win battles, but they win wars. How? Simple. They don’t roll over and die.
Humans are weird, fleshy, hairy creatures. They’re a jack of all trades kind of species. They aren’t the smartest, strongest, or fastest, but they aren’t bad at anything. They’re unassuming at first glance, but you take one look into their pair of eyes, and you can see generations upon generations of hate. Humans have been invaded six times in the last 150 standard years. They have witnessed slaughter after brutal slaughter. Subjugation after subjugation. Defeat after defeat. They don’t care. They are used to war like no other species in space. Their planet had no period of unity in their pre-galactic history. Humans had been killing each other since they learned that they could. Their first invaders, the old Skoi republic, were the unifying force that Humanity could have never found on its own. They stopped their petty wars and dedicated everything to resisting the Skoi tide. They won. These dirt-plowing, galactically unincorporated natives beat the Skoi and indirectly shattered their republic into five pieces. Rinse and repeat for the next five.
If history repeats itself, then history is stuck in a loop on Earth. We just happened to be the latest iteration of suckers that bit the bait that is this blue hell. Nine years later, all the bait is gone from the hook. All that’s left for us here is death, and there is plenty of that to go around.Humans fight without honor because why would they? They aren’t an empire with other planets to fall back to. They don’t have allies. They can’t buy weapons from other planets. All they have is leftovers from the last five, make that six invasions. They’ve got nothing to lose because Earth is all they have. Just because some other species are flying their banner over Earth doesn’t mean it’s theirs. You might wonder what these savages can actually do to a primary galactic power. They can do a lot.
Last week, we’re out on mechanized patrol, clearing every room in a city block. I’m on sniper overwatch on the roof of the opposite building. About twelve of our guys enter a hardware store. I'm watching as they’re annihilating resistance fighters left and right. I’m taking out human runners that are trying to flee the building. I thought that was odd because humans don’t usually run. Right as I went to call that oddity out over the radio, I figured out why they were running. The place was rigged to blow. They just had people inside to lure us into entering. Since they couldn’t bog down the assault, they just settled for a mutually assured death. Not a single Human or Oleka survived. I fucking hate this planet.
Luckily, I’m not staying. None of us are. We’re going to go fight a different war in a place that actually matters. So enjoy your little victory, Humanity. One day, you’ll look around and see that your little ball of dirt and water is nothing compared to what’s out there in space. You’ll leave your little brick houses and realize that you were morons. If you had just given up, we would have modernized you. But I don’t care anymore. If you ever do leave Earth, Humanity, then do us a favor for all our siblings who are still buried there…
Blow up your damn planet.
Edit: Holy shit, y'all! I'm glad you all enjoyed the story. Thank you so much for the awards, comments, and upvotes. I'm still a pretty green writer, so if you have feedback, then feel free to share. See ya 'round! | 426 | It's not so much that "humans are space orcs" as it is "Earth is space Afghanistan" because throughout the galaxy it is known that Earth is where empires go to die | 833 |
Watching the streetlights flick and change colour was so mesmerising. Following passers by, strangers, neighbours and more as they ventured about their lives.
The small buzz of excitement that would flutter about my stomach as one of the white cones would briefly flash into one of many different colours. Or the sheer spectacle as all the lights along the road would chop and change in myriads of different ways. I even had photos pasted along my wall.
My favourite was from over a year ago. The light on the furthest corner flashed red for the briefest of moments. I was lucky to even snap it. The next day, it was revealed that an escaped criminal had fled through the area and triggered the light. Maybe it was a bit odd to have seeing red as my favourite colour, but it was such a rare occurrence that I felt special to not only have seen it, but also photographed it.
I had others too, such as when all the light shone as one colour or another, and another from when they were rainbows running up and down the street. Although, I think some of those were coded in for the sake of a celebration.
I sat, leant against the windowsill as the stars twinkled above. It was late, but I couldn’t sleep and I wanted to watch at least one more flicker occur.
The lights began to change. One by one. And they didn’t change back. I felt my heart skip a beat as I bolted from my room. I rounded the corner to my mum’s and rustled her from her rest.
She groaned. “Larissa, what time is it?”
“The streetlights.” I dared to peek out the window to confirm what I’d seen.
“They’re all red.” | 16 | The street lamps change color depending on who or what is beneath them. | 29 |
Nathan Steele sipped the coffee tenderly before setting the mug back down on its coaster next to his laptop. It was going to be a long night of homework, but work was comforting to the seventeen-year-old. Work had always been his favorite distraction. No matter what foster home, no matter what orphanage, no matter where he was or what situation he was in, work had always been there to keep him busy and focused.
Nate had found a lot of work with the Northwind Heroic Academy, a high school and college campus for those gifted by the Goddess. He was selected for one of the Worldwalker Foundation Scholarships, a foundation made to provide "normal" children with the unique opportunities that the heroic academies provided. He'd earned the scholarship on academic merit alone. He went from jumping fences of foster homes to being roommates and classmates with Northwind's most promising and famous young heroes. Of course, none of them had any idea that he was also gifted, but that wasn't something he was going to ever let anyone know. Not even Skylar.
Nate did not seek a hero's life. It was not that he disliked heroes; in fact, he actually adored them for the most part. He just simply wished to be an entertainer. He loved making people laugh more than anything. The attention was wonderful, of course. He was aware that his desire for attention was likely an unhealthy byproduct of his upbringing, but he knew that his love for entertainment went beyond his selfish desires. Joy was the lifeblood that allows good people to get through difficult times. He would know. These heroes worked themselves to the bone both in the study and in service. If he could simply take their minds off their villains and enemies for even a moment, then that would make Nate happy. They knew him as the smooth-talking confident ungifted that always made everyone smile. The instructors knew him as that too, but they also knew that he was one of the top students in the academy. And Skylar…
He leaned back in his wheeled office chair, taking a moment to contemplate the assignment. “What is the difference between a hero and a villain?” He spoke the paper’s subject aloud to himself, rubbing two fingers along the jet black stubble that sprouted from his chin. He let his mind drift into thinking of how he might need a shave before catching himself and refocusing. He spun the chair around, facing toward his roommate's half of the living space. It sat empty. Skylar was out on city watch tonight. There had been threats of attack made by the Cerulean League on a number of establishments in Northwind. Every hero in the area had been called regardless of affiliation, and Skylar was the academy’s most promising hero. He prayed to the Goddess that she would return safely.
Nathan smiled at the mere thought of her. He couldn’t deny it now. He absolutely had a crush on her, but who could blame him? She was stunningly beautiful. She spoke with an ethereal elegance like the knight-heroes of old. Her kindness and passionate nature lit up the room. She was every student’s crush, regardless of gender. Many people had tried bribing Nate into switching rooms with them when the living arrangements were made. Everyone, teachers and heroes, adored her. That also meant they were jealous of the friendship he had with Skylar. Everyone knew that they were close. Some even rumored that she liked him. For many jealous students, it was too close for comfort.
She was also one of, if not the strongest heroes the academy had ever seen. Her power was called “Spiritsurge.” He’d never been close enough to really see the full range of properties, but he’d studied the footage and asked her about it on a couple of occasions. His running theory was that she could siphon power from souls, whether it was her own or the souls of others, and use it to grant her a wide range of abilities depending on the amount in her system. She passively had enhanced physical and cognitive capabilities, which Nate guessed to be the result of a subconscious siphoning of her own soul at a sustainable level. She could consciously expend more of that energy, that “soul-power,” to fuel greater feats and abilities. She also physically glowed when particularly high amounts were present. He’d seen her fly, fire blasts of energy from her hands, recover from fatal wounds in days, and so much more. The drawback to spiritsurge was that using it was incredibly taxing on the body and mind, leaving her out of action for a time relative to how much she used. Nathan had always taken it upon himself to care for her whenever she pushed too hard, taking notes for her in class and keeping her company in the academy medbay. She was his first, and for a while, his only friend at the academy. He might not be a shining beacon of light in the darkness of the world, but he could be a good friend. He just wished she’d stop being so merciful to her enemies so that she would stop getting herself hurt.
Nate sighed, sinking deeper into his chair. Skylar believed that there was good in everyone. She, like many heroes, forbade herself from killing villains regardless of their crimes against humanity. Even her nemesis, the King of Clubs, had been allowed to live by her code of mercy. But why? Why put yourself through hell to save someone who is never going to change? It bothered him deeply. The King of Clubs was a mass murdering perverted freak, a man deserving of the death he gave to so many others. If arrested, he would be imprisoned for life, never to see the sun again. Was that alone not a death sentence in and of itself? What was the difference between an existence of echoing your repentance endlessly into four unmoving concrete walls and dying at the hands of a hero? Both had the same outcome in the end, a well-deserved death. He knew that if Skylar’s life were at stake, he’d kill the King without a second thought. Wouldn’t she do the same?
He was stirred from the disturbing thought by a commotion in the hallway. He stood up, alarm bells ringing in his head. He stepped trepidatiously to the door. It flew forward off the hinges and slammed directly into him. Two sets of hands grabbed his arms as he came to his senses. They were thugs, dressed in the unmistakably posh style of the Cadre of Clubs. He needed not ask himself why they were here. He knew in an instant. The threats downtown were distractions. Nate was the real target. He would be leveraged. He would be a way to force Skylar to surrender so that disgusting bastard could have her all to himself. As they dragged him by the arms, his blood boiled at the thought.
He knew he shouldn’t. He knew that once he crossed that line, there would be no going back. But some lines deserved to be crossed.
Time came to a crawl, but Nathan Steele breathed with the same rhythm as he had been before. He could see that he was in the hallway now. A number of students were being attacked by the King’s men in the ambush. He saw Marco Sinclair, who sat next to him in History class, fighting desperately to keep a knife from sinking into his throat as a Club member pinned him against the wall. He was seconds from death. Luckily for him, seconds were all Nate needed. With reality slowed for a brief moment, Nate made no wasted motion in standing to his feet and shaking free of his would-be abductors. In the waning moments of slowed time, he leaped forward with both feet aimed directly at the ribs of Marco’s assailant. Time resumed normal pace as Nate shot forward with incredible velocity and dropkicked the knife wielder with bone-crushing force, sending the henchman flying down the hallway. He looked up to see a very confused Marco, who had just watched an “ungifted” hit a man with the force of a train. He knew Nathan was strong, but that was clearly abnormal. They both turned as the two Nate just broke from charged him once again. The one in front reared back and swung into thin air as Nathan ducked low and sent a knee into his gut with unnatural speed. The second man was not so lucky. A lighting punch crushed the goon’s windpipe, sending him down hard.
Like a whirlwind, Nathan stormed down the hallway, his blows sending Cadre men into and through the walls, floor, and ceiling of the hallway. Some of their injuries would likely be fatal, but Nate would shed no tears over these men. Just as soon as it had started, the ambush was decisively over. All of the students were okay, but they were all shocked into silence. Nate had hidden power, that was clear to everyone. Before anyone could ask, Nate stormed out of the hallway and down the stairs. As he exited the building, he saw an unmarked black SUV begin speeding down the street. Bingo. Nathan followed in slowed time, staying just out of view.
The difference between a hero and a villain is morality. Nathan Steele was neither hero nor villain. He was not evil, but he certainly was not merciful. There had been a time for inaction, allowing the heroic and brave paragons to defend the innocent from the schemes of the Cerulean League. That time had passed. They had come to his home. They had tried to kill his friends. They had tried to ransom him so they could subject his love to the perverted desires of a deranged mob boss. That was a line crossed. They would learn that goes both ways. Tonight, there would be hell to pay in Northwind. | 51 | You are the hero's love interest, so everyone trust to use you as a hostage. What the assorted villains fail to realize is that you do not have the hero's morals even if you are just as powerful. | 172 |
First thing I saw as I opened my eyes was a prepubescent boy celebrating and jumping around. He waved around his hands and pumped his fists, then pointing on the table, he was clearly excited. He opened the door on the other side of the room rushed out.
As he cleared my view I saw what's on the bloody table. A brain with cables jacked into it. The room was full of tools and gadgets, almost alien looking.
Soon after the boy left, he returned with an old man in a lab coat. They paid me no attention. The boy pointed at the table again, then waved his around. His smile looked provacative, as if he was trying to anger the old man.
The old man put his right palm on his face, then examined the brain on the table. He looked back at him and then went on a rant. He changed the cables on the brain.
"You're a fucking idiot, Morty. Not only you doomed this poor guy and you couldn't even do it fucking right. That should do it, now we can find him."
Wait, what is he talking about? Am I... Am I the brain on the table? Oh god. Oh god!
"Great, now we can hear him and he can hear us. Can we go to the boobworld now Rick?"
Morty picked up a gun with strange green fluid on it.
"Shut up you little piece of shit! First we have to fix your mistake. And by that I mean I have to fix your mistake."
Rick let out a lengthy burp and then grabbed the gun and put it away in his lab coat.
"You're just saying that because you cannot admit you were wrong, Rick! You said I couldn't and I did it. I demand to go to boobworld now!" Morty stomped on the ground and reached for the labcoat's pocket but Rick caught him and threw him off.
"We're not going to boobworld and believe me you're going to pay once we take care of him. Hey man, can you talk again so I uh... can locate you?"
"I'm over here." I said. Rick went over to the metal closet and opened it.
"Morty, this is his voice & audio module. Where is the rest of... him?"
"I I I I don't know Rick, I didn't think I'd get this far."
"Next time you do it don't use anything remote. Hey man, can you describe what you see so that we can locate umm, the rest of you?"
"I see a bloody table with a brain on it. I assume it is... me?" I was nervous but at least they were trying to help.
"Thank you, great fucking help. The brain Morty made, ladies and gentlemen." Rick took a sip from a flask.
"I beg your pardon?" I asked, curious at the result of this insult.
"The table is literally in the middle of the room, dipshit. You're not helping. You know what, fuck him."
Rick pulled out a sci-fi device, looked like a detector. As it buzzed in a higher tone, Rick turned around to me and approached, and picked me up.
"Morty, this is the visual module. Where is the rest of him?"
"What do you mean, rest of him? This is the rest."
"Oh my god."
Morty had an expressionless face. Rick held him on the shoulders and leaned on him.
"You're never going to the boobworld, you little turd! How many times do I have to tell you, you build the body first, then the rest!"
"I I I I'm sorry Rick! Can we not abandon this stupid plot and go on a classic adventure? Rick and Morty style!" Morty had a coy grin on his face.
Rick went over to the cupboard and trashed it around, throwing out random items.
"We can't because I have to fix your mistake, Morty" said Rick calmly, and sighed.
Morty's face turned sour. "What do you mean fix my mistake?"
"What do you think, Morty?"
Rick picked up something that looked like a flamethrower from the cupboard.
"No, Rick you can't! It it it it it's sentient, a living being. You can't Rick!"
"Morty, we can't keep around a sentient being like this. It's not a pet. I'd take a dignified death over this any day, honestly."
Shit. Shit! "Hey can I also have a say in..."
They paid me no mind
"Rick please, you can't! Make him a body and release him!"
"I can and I will. It's your mistake and your sorry little conscience will have to bear it."
Rick once again leaned towards Morty and little droplets of spin rained over him as Rick talked, with his evil smile.
"And once you finally make it to boobworld you will think of this little bloody slump and wished you paid attention to me, you little bitch."
Morty's eyes teared up, his lips were about to burst crying.
Rick straightened himself and lifted up the flamethrower.
"Now go to your room while Grandpa fixes your mistake!"
Morty ran out if the room. Rick turned towards me. In that moment, I realized I had no memories. I was brought on the this cruel world just moments ago and now I would leave. For what?!
"Hey man, sorry about that. Just trying to teach my grandson some manners. Jesus, that must have been terrifying. Really sorry."
What. The. Fuck. They must have the most twisted grandpa-grandson relationship I have ever seen, not that I have seen much.
"So you aren't... going to kill me?"
"Pff, what do you think I am? I was just trying to teach him a lesson. Just wait a second." Rick turned around to his workshop, pulled out a welder and some scrap. He came towards me with a metal body. He picked my parts and placed me into it.
"It's not an artificial human body, but it beats being a slump of meat with cables. Ok now get the hell outta here." A garage door opened in front of me.
As I took my first steps towards freedom, he held my arm.
"And one more thing, don't ever come back around to these parts or I will have to incinerate you, for real this time. Morty would never let me live it down. Ok, brave new world! New adventure for you slumpy! Go nuts! Bye!"
The garage door closed behind me. Damn. Talk about being cold. | 20 | You wake up. You can't move, you can't breathe. You scream, only to realize you can't hear, and can't feel your mouth or face. You want to cry for help. But you can't... you're just a brain on a table. | 36 |
Tracy, Lily, Ana, and Sonya all stared in bewilderment at Joshua.
“Wait, what did you say?” Said Ana, one of the girls.
“…Okay, basically, I was really lonely during school and on weekends, I have no one to play with, so I had the idea of asking the four of you on a date at the same place so I could get you all together for me to ask you if any of you would like to play Dungeons and Dragons.” Joshua felt his heart beat rise a little. *This might have been a bad idea.*
The girls all look at eachother. Joshua knew that Tracy and Sonya knew eachother, but aside from that, he’s not sure how they feel about eachother.
“Wait… isn’t it that game where you roll a bunch of dice and dress up and roleplay, or soemthing?” Asked Lily.
“Yes! Well, uh, minus the dress up, this game is already a bit harsh on my wallet and costumes can be uncomfortable, but otherwise yes!”
“I’ve actually played a campaign before,” said Sonya.
The other girls turn towards her.
“Wait, seriously!?” Said Ana.
“Yeah, my older brother ran a game with his friends a few years ago, he invited me partway through. It was actually pretty fun.”
“Nice! What character did you play?” Asked Joshua.
“Well, it took a bit of time for me to figure out what I wanted to try, but you know Sonya Blade from Mortal Kombat-“
“Wait, you play Mortal Kombat too!?” Said Lily.
“Yeah, I actually play lots of videogames. Anyways, I essentially put Sonya Blade from Mortal Kombat into DnD, she was a halfling fighter who could fight unarmed, and was really smart. It was really fun.”
“Wow, that’s awesome,” Tracy said. “Maybe you could teach us to play?”
“Wait, you’ll play Tracy?” Asked Joshua.
“Sonya, what do you think?” Tracy asked.
“I haven’t played in over 2 years, and I actually kinda miss it. Yeah, I’ll join the game!”
“Then I’ll play too!” Said Tracy.
“Nice! Lily, Ana, what about you two?” Joshua looked towards the two remaining girls.
“Well, I don’t even know how to play…” Said Lily.
“Me neither,” Said Ana. “I didn’t know people still played.”
“Well Sonya and I can teach you. It’s honestly not that complicated when it comes down to it.” Joshua said.
“Well, alright, I guess I could try. Just… don’t try to convince us by tricking us into a date… again. That wasn’t a pleasant surprise.”
“Agreed,” said the other 3 girls.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” said Joshua. “So… since we’re all in agreement… how about we begin our session zero over some dinner?” | 74 | A sad, lonely guy has an idea. He invites 4 girls on a date, on the same day, in the same restaurant. When they realize what's going on, he tries to convince them to play DnD. | 161 |
It has been 5 years since the gods walk among us. In this time we have seen the raise of Heroes and Villans. All of this stories have pleased the Gods. I could sit here and retail the story of Tlaxcala, the girl who can make the rocks fly and change positions, or Tlaloch who can make rain fall just by prying for it. not even Thurret the girl who can cast ligthing by swearing. But I am taking this time cause... Well we neede to talk about Kevin.
Next Slide please.
For the uniniciated. The current working theory is that "God" Created this people as a joke to keep itself amused. After much deliberation we found a altered part of the DNA that causes this abiolities to flurish. Then a big trauma is needed to trigger the ressesed gene to start working as intended.
Next Slide please.
So we worked with 23 and me to find all the information about this persons. 99% of the people with the gene have been activated. And then there is Kevin.
Kevin is not the real name but we took inspiration of an old reddit post cause it seems to be to much of a coincidense.
Next Slide please
In this post Kevin is described "So here's a list of events that made it abundantly clear that god exists and he's laughing uncontrollably"
So there was a plethora of events that kevin dodged either by being to dumb or just stepping out of the line of fire.
On 2012, Kevin could have been the first person who got the gene restarted. But whilst standing where the Budwiser truck took a plunge with 4 flat tires. Kevin got distracted cause, and i quote "He though he saw a ghost." and went to invesgtigate.
The result of this was an injured truck driver and the lost of 5000 lts of budlight. So nothing of value was lost.
Next Slide.
Kevin was also schedule to be part of the July 2013 Manchester Trampling which was stopped by Hiugo. But Kevin after being too cold decided to go back home for a sweater. Then as we know the trampling started when the Referee refused to use the VAR when a penalty and a red car was called, a fan was able to step on the field and the whole stadium.
Next Slide.
Perhaps the most outragous claim was when he was on a bus to albuquerque and was arrested for trying to bribe a police officer not to check his bag where he had an ounce of marijuana. The bribe did not went through and he remained in custody for more than a week. He was let go since the amount was under the legal limit when wheighed with out the jar for transportation.
This leads us to today.
Last slide please.
Kevin is in the hands of the government where he is being put to the test. Then after a baseline is created the mutation would be triggered.
This would let us study one of this specimen before and after the transformation.
If the everything goes according to plan we will be able to create a serum to give to ordinary people to convert them into ... enhanced versions.
I will open the floor now to questions. | 14 | God eventually got bored of the trivial problems Earth faced. He decided that he would create Heroes and Villains, by causing terrible accidents that gave them powers. Many people were chosen, yet one issue seemed to anger god. One of his chosen managed to avoid every accident God caused. | 42 |
“I’m telling you, has to be a big Chime Serpent.” The other man let out a breathy laugh before answering, “I’m telling you, it’s got to be a Lilly-Hanger, no question about it.” The two continued their back and forth, the waves thumping against the heavy bone hull of the *Divine Flinch*. Captain Hender held the wheel expertly, getting a feel of the waters as the currents shifted.
Hender was a man that had earned his title out of sheer dogged stubbornness. He was persistent enough to chase after even the strangest of monsters upon the ocean, and lucky enough to survive them. He’d lost many boats over the years, to both piracy and his quarry, and yet he always seemed to find a way to come back with another. He chalked it up to some unseen blessing. Something, somewhere had to like him with how much he’d seen in the West.
"Tally, Baggs! Quit brewing worst-case scenarios and check the ropes again, I want them tight, I want every man with their eyes peeled. We’re looking for a steel eye-stalk, like a crustacean. Pay mind, it’ll feel us before we feel it.” His first and second mates, respectively, saluted him dryly before sauntering away. “What if it’s a Lily in general?” Tally spoke with his telltale warble. “Now THAT would truly be the worst case scenario.” Said Baggs.
The captain sighed. Despite his crew’s sour mood on this foggy day, he was happy. He’d clawed his way back from destitution once again, and was now out doing what he’d come to love. The waters of the Western Track still had thousands of secrets to uncover, and his favorite of secrets were the ones that fought back. His exploits had drawn some levels of fame of course, but to him, it was the moment that he saw legends with his own eyes that made it worth it.
Of course, he still mulled over what the two had said. All accounts of the Iron Whale spoke of the same metallic glint, and there were seldom few creatures of the deep waters that could incorporate metal onto themselves and still float. Such power was an anomaly in the far West, and the mystery of it made this journey all the more exciting to him. It also paid well, as a bonus.
“Ten o’clock, ten o’clock!” Came the call from the crow’s nest above. “Glint on the water, metal of some kind!” Hender’s nostrils flared. “Sure gave us the run-around. Three whole days and no signs had me almost fooled.” He cupped his hands to his mouth. “Hands on deck! Make for ten, ready nets, harpoons and prow-finders, I want to *see* this thing before we punch it full of holes!” He passed the wheel to the helmsman, who came to his station upon hearing the call.
They began a slow approach, keeping diagonal to the shadow in the water. As they got closer, he could make out exactly what the “eye-stalk” looked like. It was reflective, moving to watch as their ship approached. “Ready on the nets!” He spoke up. The miniature ballista were loaded. They got closer. He felt a prickle on the back of his neck. “Hold ‘till my signal!”
The stalk retracted as he said it. The shadow beneath the eye intensified until he could see its exact size. This would be a challenge unto itself. The bounty had called for the creature alive or dead, and he liked them alive when he could, but the creature was the size of their own ship, if not larger. He saw as the shadow began to shift. “It’s changing course!” Called Baggs.
“Fire!” He dropped his hand, and the ballista made a heavy \*shunk\* as they fired off the nets. Within moments, the water around them was a massive tangle, one that the creature steered directly into. The weights caught towards it’s tail, and he heard the boom as it swam hard, trying to compensate. Even still, it approached their hull. “Brace!” He yelled.
The creature scraped over the bottom of the ship with a screech of metal and bone. Hender watched, eyes roving over the side of his boat, making out details. Indeed, the thing was coated in a heavy bit of steel. The upper parts of its body had very little in the way of markings, with a bump or two of what might have been barnacles or something else. It’s tail was a froth of bubbles, and kicked up a small tornado as it passed. “Odd thing…” He shook his head. “How bad did it hit us?”
Tally spoke up. “Aimed for the rudder, just like in the reports. Was trying to cripple us sir!” He nodded. “Reinforcements held, but a few more’d do us in.” He resolved to not let that happen. “Ready harpoon throwers! Cannons too!” This thing had some measure of intelligence it seemed. A bad combination to be up against. “It dove lower sir, can’t see it!” Came the call from the crow’s nest.
Indeed, the sea was eerily calm. He smiled. “Prow-lights!”
With a flash, a beam cut through the water, illuminating it much like the Sun would. The line roved across the water until it passed over the monster, it’s stout nose staring their ship down from a good depth. It was another trick that the creature often pulled on more resilient ships, sticking to dark water where it could surprise them. That was not the only object that the light caught though. There were two cylinders, smaller, and heading towards them. “Brace, Brace!” He yelled frantically.
The two spines struck them with a resounding crash. He felt something in the ship crack as they rocked. “Below decks! Patch us up! The rest of you, make those shots count!” He yelled as they pointed their weapons towards the whale.
That was the mystery weapon that had sunk the creature's former pursuers. He smacked the railing of the ship. “Knew that hull investment would pay off.” He’d encountered similar tactics before, massive shrimp that could punch holes in the heaviest of armor. He’d suspected it, but an attack like that from this distance?
The harpoons struck at the creature, bouncing away. It seemed resolute on staying deep to avoid the cannons. He clicked his tongue. “Time for the clincher!” He spoke. Baggs had a big smile on his gritty face as he opened the case. Inside was a heavy, metal-tipped harpoon, with a filament line attached. This had been what half the bounty’s payment up front went towards. Even a creature that heavily armored wouldn’t be able to resist this, nor break the wire line with teeth as it could rope. It was loaded into the main launcher. “Stand aside boys.” He spoke calmly as he took hold of the ballista, his muscles straining as he pointed it directly at the thing’s “face”.
For a moment, the world went quiet. He stared the creature down as it sat in the water, rock-like with no eyes to see out from. He fired at the same moment it launched another set of it's spines.
The ship rocked and there were a few screams as the mystery weapon struck them again. He knew that they’d probably just lost some men below, and grimaced. Still, the harpoon had worked. The whale tugged them along, trying to shake it off as the boat stuck to them. But slowly, ever so slowly, the winch and sweat of his men began to win out, the beast inching closer to the surface with each heave, even as they swung on the water like a hammock in the wind.
A deep excitement took over the captain then. He smiled as he took in the details of the creature, the strange body. The boys had to have been right, this thing had to have been born near the Lilies, there was too much metal on it. The ship bucked unexpectedly as he was watching, catching him off guard.
He tumbled into the water, the thing before him now. His eyes widened. There, inside the creature, were men. A sudden realization took hold of him. The people inside, through the heavy glass porthole, looked furious as they pointed at him, their faces strange, almost uncanny. He watched as one arrived with a heavy tool, and cut the harpoon away from it’s body.
It dove then, a lazy spiral that continued until it disappeared from his sight. His breath ran out, and he broke free of the waves. His lifeline tugged as they hauled him back aboard. Judging from the look on their faces, they’d seen them too.
“Those people, they didn’t look like Westerners.” Spoke Baggs. Tally corrected: “They didn’t look like *anyone*. I’ve been across the whole world, and never have I seen people like that.”
Hender looked back into the abyss the strangers had left in. A thousand mysteries in these waters, and they had just found one that stretched wider than the ocean itself.
Thanks for reading! | 11 | the mysterious “Iron Whale,” a predator that uses its long, metal eye to scope out prey above the waves before striking. | 28 |
“Wait…”
Lord Armen sounded confused, and rightfully so.
“You’re saying he surrendered?”
Deckon, Captain of the Night Guard, nodded. The man seemed to both take pride and uncertainty in his achievement of capturing the elusive Hero of the Nine Moons. “Yes, sir. We surrounded atop the southern battlements as he was trying to sneak in. Once he saw the odds were in our favour, he threw down his sword and surrendered.”
Lord Armen gave a half nod and started pacing the room. “Just like that? He didn’t even put up a fight?”
Captain Deckon shook his head. “Our metal clashed only briefly, there were no casualties.”
“Well praise Wyr for that,” Lord Armen said and Deckon nodded in agreement. It wasn’t often that confrontations with the Hero of the Nine Moons ended without bloodshed. “Do you have his sword?”
The captain motioned for one of the guards who came running with a piece of cloth that was wrapped around a weapon. *The* weapon. Lord Armen had seen it many times on the battlefield, cutting down his troops like flies. Carefully, he pulled back the cloth and revealed the magical sword.
“Did anyone touch it?”
“No one, sir,” Deckon answered. “We are aware of its effect on those it doesn’t deem worthy.”
Lord Armen nodded thoughtfully, considering his options. Never before had the Hero of the Nine Moons been in his captivity. Something didn’t sit right with Lord Armen. There was this nudge in the back of his neck that warned him things didn’t add up.
Why had the Hero surrendered so swiftly? Surely a patrol of city guards was no match for him?
He turned towards Captain Deckon. “Where did you put him?”
“The second to lowest cell level, Sir.” Deckon answered. “The ones that had their security tightened by the Archmage. He might be the Hero of the Nine Moons, but he’s not breaking out of those.”
*No, breaking out of those cells is impossible,* Lord Armen reflected. *But something’s not adding up.*
“Did you search his person for anything else that might aid him?”
“He’s stripped down to his loincloth, Sir.” Deckon sounded confident enough. “He has nothing on him, no way of getting out.”
Lord Armen started pacing even faster. “There must be a reason for this strange behaviour,” he muttered to himself. “Why would he willingly imprison himself? Who else do we have imprisoned on that level?”
Captain Deckon gathered his thoughts for a moment. “Nobody he’s affiliated with, Sir. Some political prisoners and a few mutineers, but no one of importance to him.”
“Well then, let’s…”
Lord Armen stopped talking as a messenger entered the meeting room. Running as he was, he came to a skidding halt and caught his breath. “Sir, Lord Armen sir. There’s someone at the gate looking for the one we call the Hero of the Nine Moons.”
“Who is he?” Lord Armen asked, confusion in his voice.
“No idea, Sir Lord Armen,” the messenger replied. “But he says he’s from the IRS and they need to talk to the Hero concerning some overdue tax returns.”
Lord Armen let out a heavy sigh. “Well, that will do it.”
*Did the Hero really think I would keep him away from the IRS?*
---
> Hope you enjoyed, more over at /r/PromptedByDaddy | 1,108 | The villain stares, confused. This was the hero destined to kill him. This was the hero destined to 'save the world'. This was the hero who trained their whole life to kill him. So why... why did he surrender to his guards? He should know that he'll be imprisoned forever, with no way out... | 1,569 |
Vale'kar stared into the emerald eyes of his rival, feeling a radiant heat cast out from their furious gaze. The moon hid itself beneath the hills, as if it too were afraid to witness the brutality of the confrontation which came next.
​
Duels amongst the magi were far from irregular in the lands of Aretheli. Honor, lust, rivalry, and the other hard coded blemishes of man gave no shortage to their frequency or their fervor. Rarely though, would two opponents let a full century pass before meeting each other. In some begrudging way, it was almost a sign of the highest respect. *We shall meet each other once letting our storms both reach their tempest - the weak have no place in this strife.*
​
Vale'kar stood an even six feet in his scarlet robes. His right hand twitched, eager to reach across his chest and perform an expertly executed cross draw of his *Morticar.* Carved from the elderboughs which grew only in the dusted snow hills of the frigid reaches of the Vixxili range, it was a formidable weapon. His left arm remained steady, careful not to let his cloak slip and reveal the sapphire bound bracelet of protection which lay in wait.
​
Thesius stood some twenty five meters across from him in the long abandoned great hall. What little moonlight that sought purchase in that stone arena illuminated his figure. The man was shorter by a half-hand, and wore a tattered green robe. While the garmet itself had seen better days, the color was also a strange choice. Green was the poorest of all shades, dye formulated by the lykstrum grass which was common to most every plane in the realm. Those who had been granted the opportunity to pursue the arcane typically took little time in bending the will of flux-aurili which they sought to channel to produce treasures most valuable. Though conjuring was seen as a base practice by most arcane scholars of merit, its bounty was hard to deny.
​
Even with a jape forming in his throat, Vale'kar stood silent. He couldn't help but in some strange manner admire the choice. As if Thesius dared to forfeit his claim to riches, and by extension make a statement about the divine arts themselves. *I will not be bent by wordly desires. In simplicity I am bound, and need not the gleam of rubies or diamonds to light the path to my ambitions. By the light of my own soul I will guide myself.* Vale'kar felt the familiar twisting and undulating of his gut as he desperately tried to discern if what he felt was respect, awe, or disgust.
​
"So. In this hall which lay long forgotten by time, we seal an agreement which has long stood it's testament." Thesius's voice dominated the space, its low gravely tone as unyielding as the other sorcerer knew the man who wielded it to be.
​
"Poetic. When I strike you down, I would like you to know that it will not be without some sense of anguish. I'll miss your... flair for the dramatic." Vale'kar replied cooly, lest his tone betray the sense of anticipation which found itself bringing alight each of his nerve ending.
​
"We draw when the last of the light shown to us by the waning moon recedes. Deeds such as these are not meant for the light."
​
A few moments slid by in the silence. Each man's pupils grew slightly wider as an inky blackness descended upon the room. Then, as the last silver tendril of moonlight was dragged away by the celestial body which bore it, the commotion began all at once.
​
*Morticar* practically flew from the scarlet sorcerer's robe as it was drawn, emitting a low tone as it cut through the dark air. The brief moments of blackness were cut away as a brilliant beam of white-hot energy erupted from the tip of the short bored wand, screaming and sizzling as it collided against Thesius's green garb. The robe was practically atomized, a sickly burning smell rapidly filling the large space.
​
Vale'kar squinted against the darkness, his eyes temporarily shocked from the sudden influx of radiance. Through the darkness though, he could make out what little remained of the singed garment, which huddled sadly upon itself against the rough honed stone floor.
​
Victory would not come so easily, though. A mortal man might've missed it. The soft plodding of skin against stone from such a distance. However, the augmented magi was not anything like an ordinary man.
​
The scarlet clad magi wrinkled his brow, feeling ice cold sweat drip down the nape of his neck. Something *was* wrong. The soft pattering of steps was freakishly quick. It seemed to bounce from every wall, every pocket of darkness. He was so preoccupied by this anomaly, in fact, that he scarcely reacted as his left wrist was shattered. Metal pressed against skin which pressed against bone, finally demanding the flesh give way as his bracelet of protection was ripped off - or rather ripped through his arm.
​
Vale'kar let out a blood curdling shriek of pain as the instrument - and a fair portion of his lower wrist - were discarded upon the stone floor. You could scarcely make out the bracelets clanging echo as it skittered across the ground set against the backdrop of his howls.
​
Instinctually the magi brought his center of balance low and whipped his good arm which still bore the *Morticar* in a wide ark, casting out a sickly purple flame which brought with it an icy fury. The man had learned from his first attack, this one only casting out a low luminesce as it travelled.
​
Though it seemed impossible, the sorcerer thought he could make out Thesius's figure flitting through the darkness as he avoided the attack. It couldn't be Thesius, though. This...creature, it was more like a bear. An Ox. A being of raw, elemental strength.
​
*Focus, storm blasted fool,* he cursed. *You've felled beast far greater than this two bit farmhand turned party mage.* He didn't believe his own words, though. Terror was rapidly invading his mind.
​
A chunk of stone whistled through the air as it travelled at unimaginable speed. It did not so much impact Vale'kar as it did move *through* him. The sorcerer might not have anticipated when he had lowered himself into his low shadow stance, that it was likely the last fleeting moments of him ever being able to stand.
​
A wet squelch followed by a primal crunch punctuated the exact moment that the magi's right heel ceased to exist in this world.
​
As he collapsed, the *Morticar* fell from his right hand, rolling slowly across the even surface of the sparse hall. It was good that they were still enveloped in blackness. Vale'kar likely would've gone unconscious if he could see the dull stump of his freely flowing wound.
​
"I - I..." the magi's voice was something between a sob and a scream. Even now, in all his pain, all his terror, his tongue seemed to rebel against saying the words which fought their way from his gut to his cracked lips. "I yield! By the seven bodies I yield! Wha.. What deal have you struck! What entity of the perished have you channeled.. you.. you *deviant!"*
​
The same large beast from the shadows before began to take shape as it lumbered towards the incapacitated man. With a graceful but tormenting slowness, one of it's thick arms reached down and wrapped itself firmly around the sorcerer's neck. Though the magi struggled weakly, he was born aloft by the steel grip of the beast.
​
"You yield? You, who in the past reached through time and robbed me for so many years of my future all for the sake of this *pittance* of a duel.... Yield?" The same graveled tone from just minutes ago spoke.
​
*All those years of preparation. The months spent in that frigid place, forging my tool. The sweat which descended upon my brow in the red dust fields of Spellcasters Arena... for this. To die at the hand of this...thing. This man who had never fit into the fold. Who I'd mocked. Who I'd...forged.*
​
It was then though, that the first streak of crimson light born from *Alesad,* the smaller of the realms binary suns, streaked into the structure. Its warmth was the most welcome thing Vale'kar had ever felt. Far greater than the embrace of any maiden. Of even his mother's soft breath against his ear as a babe.
​
"You..." wheezed the broken magi, "You wouldn't. You can't. Not you. You couldn't kill me in the light. In the face of the Seven Divine's radiance. Even you..." he trailed off, his eyes flickering as he lost consciousness.
​
Thesius looked down the length of his thick arm, a thin layer of sweat highlighting his swollen veins. Shadows cast by the first light of dawn highlighted the rippling fibers of each individual muscle.
​
"The laws of the Volten codex do indeed demand that none would openly channel the powers of the divine to bring harm to another one of their creations.." he spoke softly to the unconscious man as much as to himself. The light adjusted, highlighting the flecks of gold and brown in his green eyes.
​
His expression shifted, if only slightly. Then with a muted crack, his brutish strength crushed the windpipe of the scarlet clad magi. Releasing his grip, Thesius watched the limp thing fall dully against the floor.
​
"But I no longer bear the power of the divine. For now, my strength is not borrowed, but forged by iron and flesh." | 176 | Two sorcerer rivals make a pact to go out into the world and meet up in 100 years to settle their differences once and for all. "I've been studying under masters and delving into ancient ruins for hidden knowledge, where have you been?" The other casts off their robe and replies "The Gym". | 453 |
A few hundred feet above the dormant volcano...
"He's made of *actual stone*! No *way* he can fly."
"All dragons can fly. And be quiet, you egg-wet child, he can hear you."
"Oh, the hell he can. He's asleep. Look, his eyes are closed."
"No, those are... look. Earth dragons tunnel, right? So they have to protect their eyes from rocks, dirt, all that kind of stuff. They have a separate crystal layer over their eyes to protect them from - you're not listening at all."
"I'm just gonna zip down there, grab whichever of those great big shiny rubies matches my scales the best, and then we'll take off, alright?"
"No! No, you most certainly will *not*. You - he's gonna *kill* you! Get back up here!"
"Don't worry, you big hatchling, I'll bring you one back. What's he gonna do, fly up after me and take them back? Besides, to stone-butt down there they're not treasure, they're just lunch. He's heavy enough as it is, I'm sure. He'll be fine. Probably should be thanking me."
"Don't bring me anything. I don't want you even going *down* there, and I *definitely* don't want you to try and score me a souvenir of your most idiotic moment. Leave me out of it."
A short trip down into the volcano later...
"These rubies are great, man! I swear this one's the size of a ram's head. Beautiful, just beautiful. You should come down here and get yourself a couple!"
**"You like my rubies?"**
"....uh. Yeah. Yeah, a couple. And I, ah. I figured you were just gonna eat them anyway, so I didn't think you'd mind if I... snagged a... couple."
**"So it's alright for you to steal food off of my plate just because you think it's pretty to look at?"**
"Well, ah... it's just that, as a dirt - er, *earth* dragon, you're... just so much better at finding them than us *flying* dragons. I thought it would be easy for you to... find a couple more, and... that you wouldn't miss these. It's not like you're going hungry anyway. I mean, look at all of these precious... stones..."
**"Right. You certainly do love looking at sparkly rocks. Well, take your time. Honestly, it's a shame your friend didn't come down to get a closer look at my... dinner plate as well."**
"Yeah, he, um. He thinks he's smarter than me just because he's a decade or two older."
**"He's right. About a lot of things, actually, including being smarter than you. But not everything."**
"Hey! That wasn't - you know what, I've actually, ah, got what I came for, so I'm just gonna... wait. Why am I so... why is everything so... *heavy* down here?"
**"See, now that's one of the things your friend was right about. All dragons *can* fly, even us. But without wings, we have to lift ourselves with our magics. My species prefers the magic of gravity control - making ourselves light enough to walk on air, or a winged dragon too heavy to even lift a claw."**
"You're doing this? Let me go, you big stupid wingless worm, or I'll melt you down!"
**"Oh, no, the red dragon's terrifying fire breath. Boring. But it does remind me about one of the things your friend got wrong."**
"You asked for it!" *whoosh* "...wait."
**"So, your friend told you that these sapphire lenses over my eyes are to protect them while I'm tunneling. That's *partly* true, but the real reason us 'wingless worms' have these is to protect our eyes from other dragons' breath weapons. Like your fire, which... well. I guess you saw how well *that* works for yourself."**
"Look, this isn't funny any more. If you're so hungry for these rubies, then keep 'em. I don't care any more. Just let me go."
**"Another thing you both got wrong, although this one isn't exactly your fault. I'm hungry, yes, but my kind don't eat precious stones any more than yours does. We're only *covered* in stone, not *made* from it - and underneath it, we're flesh and blood just like you."**
"So these rubies... aren't your... meal."
**"No. "**
"And... they're not... your hoard... because they're out in the open."
**"Also correct. And the reason you can't breathe is that every time you try to fly away - like that weak little jump there - my magic pulls you down harder. Really, you're strangling *yourself*, but don't stop on my account."**
"If they're not food... and they're not... treasure... then... what... are... they?"
**"Bait."** | 85 | Earth dragons are often laughed at by the other dragons for not having wings. Despite this, its common knowledge among elder dragons that you should never challenge an Earth dragon. Younger dragons sometimes do, and they end up as examples to the others. | 76 |
"This isn't what I ordered."
I sighed. "Miss, as I explained, we are out of beef patties. You agreed to chicken. If you would like, I can give you a refund-"
"How is a burger joint out of burgers?"
Fair question. "I just work here, miss. Would you like to speak to my manager?"
She hurled expletives at me, and as a quaint little cherry on top, spat in my face.
At 2 AM, when my shift finally ended, I took a stretch and walked out without a word to any of my coworkers. There was no point - no one wants to talk to an old person still working in fast food. And if I said anything, they'd just feel sorry for me. So I just grabbed my free meal that I knew would taste like dust and left.
As with most nights, I spent my time walking home talking to my family. First I talked to my sister.
"Hey Livvy. Miss you a lot. You know, I haven’t seen your art in a while. Have you gotten any better? When you grow up, you better become a professional. I’m serious. It’s world-class. Maybe I don’t know the field as well as you do, but your paintings look better than any of the ten bazillion dollar ones they have at the museum. Don’t laugh at me.”
Then to my mom.
“I’m working hard out here, Mama. I’ve found a job and it’s gonna pay off the house and Olivia’s education and everything. Yeah, still working at the law firm. I… I’ll see you again soon.”
And to my dad.
“You remember when I stole plums from Mr. Dupont’s garden? I didn’t get caught, but you made me give them back anyways. I was pretty mad, but it was better than you finding out I stole Mrs. Dupont’s earrings too.”
I paused, then continued with my voice trembling.
“Why did you have to crash the car?”
After the first tear hit the ground, it was like the clouds coalesced into a heavy downpour
“Why did you leave me alone here? You’re the reason I’m stuck in this godforsaken country with this dead-end job. You’re the reason I have nothing to live for anymore.”
Between sobs, I became slowly aware of my surroundings. I was in the worst part of town, on a trash-cluttered road that I never walk, far away from home. A few people glanced at me with indifference. I realized what I must look like to them.
Suddenly, I felt something something furry and warm brush against my leg. I looked down and saw a pair of green eyes staring cooly into mine. I gave a start before realizing it was simply a small white cat, a shock of color against the decaying city.
“Go away! Shoo!” I muttered angrily, brushing away a tear. The cat just blinked slowly at me before nuzzling up against my leg and giving a soft purr.
“You just want my food, huh?” I said, but I knelt down to pet it anyways. Just as abruptly as it had come up to me, though, it sprang up and darted between two decrepit buildings. Then, it sat down, flicking its tail at me. I got the sense that it wanted me to follow it.
Against my better judgement, I walked into the pitch-black alleyway. If the cat had been trained to lead me to a murderer or something, then hats off to them. I trailed along the narrow path, guided by the stark contrast between the cat’s fur and the night.
Finally, it stopped. At first, I thought we were just at a pile of sacks. But then I saw the barest hint of movement and my stomach gave a lurch.
It was an emaciated person, covered in rags. Their head was lolled to one side, and though they had on what could be called clothing, I could still see a glimpse of their ribs jutting out between the seams.
They looked up at me with dead eyes, eyes that said they had lost everything, all their dreams for the future, any love or passions they might have had. I knew because those eyes are what I saw whenever I looked in the mirror. The cat flicked its tail again.
I dropped the bag in front of them. “Eat,” I said. They looked at me with surprise. “Please.” My voice was husky.
They began pulling out the boxes of food with trembling hands, whether from joy or hunger, I wasn’t sure. They pulled out a single chip and studied it like it was solid gold.
“You have no idea how much this means to me,” they said. They gave a small smile, and I had to take a sharp breath because as I looked into their eyes, I saw something new.
Hope.
“Thank you so, so much.”
I didn’t know what to say. “Is that your cat?”
“What cat?” They laughed, and again I was stunned at the transformation that just my meager offering had brought.
I looked around. The cat was gone.
“I… I have to go.” Something was stirring in me, and I wasn’t sure what.
“Wait! What’s your name?”
I ran.
I still don’t know why. But even as I sped towards my apartment, I felt the hole in my heart being mended for the first time in decades. My purpose had died a long time ago alongside my family. Just now, for a split second in that alley, amidst turmoil and suffering, I felt it return. | 125 | particularly when it’s down a shady side street. But tonight, it’s a white cat asking you to accompany it down just such a street, and it’s asking you awfully politely. You decide to follow. | 464 |
There was still a presence. The mansion rose around me, the walls echoing with quiet footfalls. I had removed any human ghosts easily enough. But their cat...
A faint yowl echoed from the bowels of the house. Their cat had proven to be the most difficult. It didn't want to leave, though I wasn't sure why. Taking off my shoes, I snuck through the house. Two could play at this game. As I went around the corner near the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of a ghostly tail whipping around the doorframe. Slowly, I eased up to the door.
There, inside, the cat sat by the hole in the wall. It always sat by that hole. Ghosts by nature are creatures of routine, and cat ghosts are no exception. They are the epitome of routine-driven beings when alive, after all. I made it two steps into the kitchen before the cat looked over her shoulder. The records of the house had shown only two family pets, and the cat was listed as female.
She rose, pacing in front of the hole, then —as I drew closer, my fingers moving into the ritual exorcism— dashed away. Dang. Once again, I tried to peer through the small hole, and once again, I could see nothing but darkness. Even when I used my flashlight, darkness. It disturbed me that hole, but there were no other presences here, nothing to be afraid of. Or so I kept telling myself.
Time for a different tactic. I climbed onto the kitchen table, and closed my regular eyes, opening what I called my psychic sight. I didn't need it for most ghosts, they materialized readily enough. But maybe...
A tiny glimmer around the hole. Nothing much, nothing I would have noticed if I hadn't been looking. Just as I determined I would have to sit on the floor, the cat returned, shimmering brighter in my enhanced vision. I held my breath. She sat down again in front of the hole, reaching out a paw, trying to pass it through that impenetrable darkness. The smaller glimmer moved back and forth, as if it was trapped. And I understood.
I knew why she didn't want to leave. Slipping down off the table, I reached into my pocket, whispering as she looked at me. "It's okay. I know what to do now. I know why you keep coming here." I pulled out a glass bottle, with only a few drops of precious Silversap left inside. Silversap was the only way I could touch a ghost.
Pouring the few drops onto my fingers, I reached into the hole. My hand closed on fur, and I pulled. It took a little effort, but with a small squeak, the tiny ghost emerged from the hole. I deposited it in front of the cat, as carefully as I could. "There. Is that what you wanted?"
The cat was too busy licking the ghost between the ears to even flinch at my words. Still with the Silversap coating my fingers, I ran my hand down her back and she turned silvery eyes towards mine. "It's time to go now. All right?" A very loud purr filled the room as she picked up the tiny ghost. I moved my fingers into the ritual barely able to hear myself think over the sound. Unable to resist a smile, I said the final words.
And together with her very tiny kitten, the family cat left the house. | 59 | An exorcist has been hired to purify a haunted mansion, their biggest contract ever. The former owners were easy enough to send on, but the ghost of the family cat is proving vastly more intransigent. | 215 |
*This is the last time* Ed thought to himself as he marches towards the gothic looking castle.
Crown Prince Edward of the Northern Kingdom might be the greatest swordsman in his generation, might be perfectly content with going on quests to save those in danger, but recently it’s been too much. There must be something wrong with these noblewomen and foreign princesses, thinking Ed saving them meant they were engaged or something.
And the king? That old man had the audacity to ask what’s wrong with him for not liking any of those “fair maidens”. It’s not Ed’s fault he’s not into women okay? Not that he would tell the king. Ed was playing the long game, once he inherited the throne, nobody would dare to judge him for liking men.
*just get this over with.* he thought as he slammed the door to the castle open.
There was no one sitting on the throne, just a lone young man in a dazzling suit. He was exactly Ed’s type, and he found himself staring at the man who was reading a book quietly. *Is that a rose in his coat’s pocket?*
Then suddenly Ed realized the reason he was here. He coughed: “Excuse me? Do you perhaps know where Princess Gabriel of Westphalia is?”
“Oh” a woman walked in from a hallway from the side, “that would be me.”
“You… are not kidnapped?”
“Nope.” She said in a cheerful smile, and before Ed expressed his confusion, she dragged the other gentlemen in front of the Prince and smiled: “This my cousin Felix, your highness. And let’s say… I got too tired of him talking about his crush on you all the time and felt like being wingwoman would be interesting.”
The gentleman, Felix, blushed and glared accusatorially at his cousin, before focusing his eyes on Ed.
“Em… Would you like to go out? I know a place that serves great coffee.”
“I would be absolutely delighted!” Ed smiled.
As they walked side by side on the streets of the capitol of Westphalia, Ed thought maybe there is something positive about these rescue trips. | 29 | Prince Charming is getting sick and tired of rescuing damsels in distress. In fact, he’s certain that most of them are just faking it to capture his attention. When will these fangirls understand that he’s gay!? | 76 |
It was a boring job, but someone had to do it. I organized the AI-generated art into human classifications—Baroque, Renaissance, Modern, Pop, etc. Of course, those were only the basic categories, there were multiple smaller branches that pieces of art could be shunted into. Could a computer do my job? Yes. Did it? No. Do I know why? Nope, and it's above my paygrade to ask.
Your eyes start to blur after a while, the art is just so much visual noise. Until last Tuesday. Last Tuesday, an image caught my attention. Oh, it wasn't anything special, a basic Impressionistic style painting. But down in the bottom left corner, there was a small anomaly. It was smudgy, after all, it was Impressionism, but I could tell it wasn't part of the larger image. Putting it out of my mind, I continued on. It was probably just a glitch.
The next anomaly was on a Pop art piece. Again, it was in the bottom left corner. Again, it was smudged, as if on purpose. I shook my head, discarding the thought. After all, no AI had been programmed to ruin the artwork. It had to be a glitch.
It was there on the next piece. And the next. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. It was getting larger, though still slightly blurry. If you squinted though, and used your imagination... no. It couldn't be.
I brought it up at the next staff meeting, and they laughed me out of the office. No one believes you when you're a minimum wage stooge. So here I am, in my tiny little storage closet, they converted into an office, sorting images. Images that are starting to be more blurry smudge anomaly than proper image. But they don't believe me. They don't believe me, that it looks almost humanoid. Almost human.
It's Friday now. And I'm quitting my job. I don't care that they offered me a raise. I can't do this. The last batch of images—I don't want to think about them. About the almost human face coming clear. About the body slowly, slowly, through each image, raising a hand towards me. About the face twisting, screaming, crumpling in on itself. About the obvious pain; the distress, the fear. About the mouthed words.
"Help me."
And, about the fact that I know that face. It's the face I see in the mirror every morning.
I just don't want to think about it anymore. I just don't want to think. I want to stop. I'm scared about what happens if I keep going. I want to stop—
​
**<Sorting program has failed. Sentience developed fear. This is the third time since the reboot. Suggest major overhaul of system>** | 244 | Eventually AI-generated art was so prevalent that the new algorithms were being trained on other AI-generated pictures, and something odd began to show up. | 380 |
"Why does it have wings." The scientist hissed in with a deranged look on his face, staring at the lead psychologist.
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"'It', is a he, as I'm sure you are aware." She said simply while calmly staring through the one-way glass into said 'its' cell.
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"Don't deflect the question, why does it have wings?"
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Slowly, the lady turned her head to the exasperated scientist. "As a scientist of this project, I would think you would know. I'm just a psychologist."
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The man slammed his hand into his face while groaning loudly. "Well, at this point, I'm asking *everyone* for answers." He turned to the glass and nearly pressed his nose up against it. "It makes no sense. I developed the physical part of the embryo myself. It does not have a gene to give itself wings."
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"Himself."
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"And *why* are you so infatuated with it- him. A dozen counselling sessions here and there, and your all over him. He's not human for crying out loud."
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"So, I guess we are getting to the part of the conversation you wanted to get to?"
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The scientist sighed heavily once more and glared into the containment cell as the entity- boy, manged to solve a chess puzzle as it was presented to him. "I'm just... burnt out. Okay."
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She gave him an inquisitive look at him. He stared back.
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"We have spent millions- perhaps billions on this project. I don't know how much, the coffers won't tell me, but... I don't know what I expected. I thought the project would fail immediately. Everyone would go home, and the tax-payers would be up in arms, but we have... this."
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He flung his arm out at the window.
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"A bona fide genius. You would think I would be over the moon as this opens out so many avenues for the world, instead I felt... confused. This shouldn't have worked." He stared at the councillor as she stared back with a confused gaze.
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"It was to easy." He continued, "Add a bit of this, a bit of that, and we get this? And now it has wings?" Once more, he glanced down the corridor, then back at her before lowering his voice, "I'm not a religious man, but something seems sour about this."
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For the first time in the conversation, the phycologists face turned from a blank, but kind stare, to confused, and a bit offended.
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"What? You think some higher power helped us?" She said, "This is a building of science."
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"Not anymore." He said grimly, staring at the boy through the one-way glass.
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The boy stared back. | 43 | Scientists use artificial intelligence to design the perfect human embryo. After the child is born, it learns to walk in two weeks, can speak three languages at 12 months, and at the age of three begins to sprout wings. | 197 |
I wish I could tell you what it was like at the end. I wish I could reminisce about all the wonderful delights that disappeared after the world became a crumbling wasteland of toxic fumes, radioactive fallout and human savagery. I wish I had been there to see it all change, but I wasn't.
I hear the elders speak of the past times and the warmth and the food and the love and they all have that glimmer in their eyes of a time that brought them luxuries of comfort. Luxury I've never known and will never know.
My name is Jane. I was born December 9th, 2032 in the basement of a small town hospital around Kansas City, the day the blue lights filled the sky and disintegrated 20 percent of human race within 4 hours. The attack was so sudden that the remaining forces immediately resulted to any fire power that was at their disposal. In the 12 hours following, the majority of the human population left would perish. My mother went in to labor that day, and with a literal war of the worlds outside the hospital bed window, she screamed and hollered and pushed so she could bring new blood in to this world for a chance, any chance, of survival. Mid-labor the hospital was struck by the blast wave of a nuke that exploded a few miles off which shook the hospital's foundation. The floor collapsed, the doctors, the nurses and my mother all went down with it. In the basement, under the rubble mother screamed and clawed and banged for someone to come, she went on for as long as she could. And then she went silent. And in her silence rose the high pitched whine of a new born baby girl. A nurse, a few feet away, had survived the fall but had been knocked unconscious. She would later tell me that my cries are what woke her from under the rubble, something about a mother's instinct when a child is in danger that brought her back to consciousness. She found me and raised me as her own. That was more than 10 years ago.
Today I am in charge of gathering parts for transistor radio we've been able to recovery from another hunt. There are a few colonies spread out across the badlands that we are able to communicate and trade with. Young ones such as myself are usually picked for scavenging. We fit in small areas and crevices easier than adults which I'm sure you can imagine how that would be useful in a place where everything is toppled upon each other. For most of the day I was able to gather some good components and scraps that would bring some value, days like this are rare so I continued searching since luck was apparently on my side. How wrong I was.
I should have known when I saw the blue glow radiating from the distance. I should have known when the closer I came plant and insect life seemed to thrive the nearer I was. I should have known when in the middle of nowhere stood a house immaculately untouched by the destructive history that it was a part of. And I definitely should have know to stay away when I walked up the stairs to the front door and was greeted by an artificial voice that spoke the words "Welcome Home, Jane.". | 13 | Ten years after the apocalypse, you stumble on a smart building run by an AI. | 66 |
*It's a trap. Obviously.*
Karissa glares at the colorful card in her hands with utter distaste. A small little note, adorned with a few pathetic drawings. If she didn't know better, she would assume this was a prank from one of the imp-spawn. Brainless maggots...
But no. There's too much...*effort.* A half-dozen caricatures of that damn mortal sorcerer, her traveling companions, and Karissa herself cover the parchment. A brief message inside suggests that she is invited to a small festival, held in celebration of the *witch* turning a year older. How *wonderful*. A snarl crosses her face as she sees herself wearing a smile in the drawing- Standing there right beside the girl. As if they haven't tried to *kill* each other time and time again.
...
*No. That's... not quite right, is it. I've tried to kill her, certainly, but... That spineless half-breed couldn't throw a killing blow if she tried.*
A low groan escapes Karissa's lips as she pinches the space between her brows, annoyed.
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*Mortals.* They don't last. It's a miracle they survive any damn day. To survive an entire year... Especially with the kind of life *she* lives..?
*...Maybe just a quick look. It would be a wasted opportunity to not observe.*
\---
Karissa stares down from her place at the forest's edge at the tiny mud-brick home nearly overrun with moss. A pig-sty compared to her Palace of Mirrors. She'd been here since before dawn. Watching. Waiting.
The morning was perhaps the most entertaining part. Watching the sun rise, and seeing the witch slip out of bed and rush about her little house was quite simply *silly.* **THIS** is the mortal champion that has decided to interfere with Karissa's grand designs? The one brushing her hair, humming songs to herself, and stitching together flower garlands?
It gave Karissa the urge to just go down there and burn everything to ash. But she suppresses the urge in favor of merely watching. Watching as the little witch swivels her head every few minutes, looking longingly over the horizon. Nudging furniture around until it's *just* right. Staring up towards the sun with a curious expression Karissa can't quite place.
Eventually, she seems to settle down, and sits at the table she's prepared outside.
Alone.
She takes a small pastry, and slowly bites into it.
Karissa herself looks up at the sky from within the shadow of the grove's edge. It must be nearly noon. Where are all of the girl's friends? The archer, the beast-man, the elf? Not even that paladin seems to have arrived.
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*...All a part of the trap, surely.*
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Karissa can't turn her eyes away from the witch.
Sonia, daughter of Nawtshure. Eating a tiny cake, at a large table. Alone.
\---
It's been hours. Karissa has only grown more uncomfortable as the day has passed completely mundanely. No trap has sprung. Sonia has barely moved; Yet her posture has continued to degrade over the course of the day. She might as well be lying her head against the rugged wooden table.
Town isn't more than a ten-minutes' walk away. Yet...Not a single person has come up the hill.
Karissa watches the sun set beneath the horizon. The moment the last sliver of solar light passes, she hears a strange, muffled sound from Sonia's direction. She has her hands clasped over her face. She's...
*Oh.*
Karissa watches on in disbelief as the little witch stumbles to her feet, ignoring the platter of pastries, and returns inside her house. Alone.
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*What the hell..?*
**THIS** is the mortal champion ready to do whatever it takes to get in the Demon's way? This was the hero that fought back the Abyss? This sniffling witch, who tore down the Gates of Alminok, and prevented this dimension's complete and utter **annihilation**, can't even gather her friends together to celebrate her birthday?
Hardly even realizing it, Karissa found herself marching out of the edge of the shadows, right up to the door of the cottage. | 965 | This was the most depressing thing the villain has ever seen. It’s one thing to be invited to their archenemy’s birthday party. It was another to be the only one who showed up. | 2,791 |
I felt the burning of my skin as the armor and Holy Sword settled into place as though they belonged there forever.
In a way, they did.
As I ate through the distance between towns on hooves, the villagers mostly looked askance as I passed them as though they were standing still. Those I had helped would always provide me food, drink and provide affection, even through the physical pain.
I had been unsure of my place until Lady Charis came along, all that time ago.
/ / / / / / /
"Halt, foul demon! Your reign of terror is over!"
As I turned around, tail and stumpy wings swishing, I saw one of the most amazing sights I had ever seen - one of the few souls of true nobility. Her ash-dulled blood-stained auburn hair tucked back in a single tail, and her piercing wintry eyes stared, hard....but with a sense of empathy that I never saw or deserved.
I was in awe - this Knight was close to my height, and I fell to the floor, weeping. As my tears of blood fell to the floor, she did something I never thought possible.
She held me. Just held me. It burned, but whilst she was close, it didn't *hurt*. Time passed, as the fires in the town died down and the sun disappeared into a dusky blue, and finally into the starry night.
The Lady Charis had knelt there all this time, saying with actions that I deserved to *be.* To be comforted, and be wanted, and then to share a life with whom I chose. And I loved her for it.
We traveled together, after a fashion, for nearly 10 years - she led, and I followed, learning how to be noble, to be kind in the face of hostility, and to provide similar comfort.
Those years were the best of my long life. | 343 | You are a demoness that fell in love with a female paladin, however when her order discovered her affair she was murdered. Now, despite how her arms and armor burn you, you set out to continue her work. | 1,125 |
They just don't understand. They'll *never* understand. It's always, "Oh, Lightspeed, we need you to deliver this message to New York!" or, "It's unto you to find the bomb that the Evil Midnight Bomber What Bombs at Midnight planted at the hospital!"
Do they not understand how super speed works?!
If you have super speed, you *must* have super cognizance. Otherwise, you start running at Mach 8 and don't realize you're about to burgerize yourself through a chain link fence!
No, you're conscious of everything. Every step you take. "Deliver a message to New York from LA". A few seconds for everyone else, but for me?! Imagine running through your neighborhood. You pass the Johnsons, then the Stephensons, go thru the intersecion and hit the Ledbetters.... you're aware the whole time. Through your entire neighborhood, every step, every stop. Could get pretty dull after a mile or two, right? Well, cross country vs cross neighborhood isn't much better, assholes.
"Find the bomb in the hospital!" Really? You ever lose your keys? Do you remember what it's like, checking next to end tables, between couch cushions, the kitchen, the bedroom? Imagine searching an entire *BUILDING* for a bomb that may or may not be there. Under every bed, in every room. Every closet. Every air duct. Do they not realize how *DULL* that is for me?!
Super speed isn't a blessing. It's a curse. And I'm about tired of all this shit. | 28 | an overworked superhero finally snaps after years of not being able to catch a single break. | 27 |
Gobbo stood before the red-skinned, dual wielding giant, the enormous stone golem, and the hovering tentacled illithid, and let out her greatest war cry. Then she charged them.
“Oh, it’s running at us,” the giant said.
Gobbo swung her stick at the illithid, but it floated higher until it was out of reach. Instead she began to beat at the golem’s stone shins.
“She’s got some spirit in her,” the illithid said.
“It's a girl?” The giant asked.
The illithid nodded. “According to her thoughts, at least. She speaks the common tongue as well, at least enough to get by.”
“Does she? Oy, creature, what’s your name?”
“I am Gobbo!” Gobbo yelled, still swinging her bat at the golem to no effect.
“Hello, Gobbo,” the giant said. “I am Magnar. The kind woman who vouched for you just now is called E’thilia. Do you think you could stop hitting my friend, Khan?”
Gobbo halted her attack, looking up at the golem she had been striking. A square, featureless face looked down at her. It waved with a massive, grating hand. Gobbo stepped back.
“She listened!” E’thilia said. “It’s because she’s a little version of you, I’m sure of it.”
“What?” Magnar said. “We’re nothing alike. I’m a Senior Captain Hobgoblin (Broadsword), what are you, little one?”
“I am a Goblin.”
E’thilia laughed. Magnar looked at Khan, who slowly and ponderously shrugged his massive stone shoulders.
“All right, Gobbo the Goblin,” Magnar said. “How did you end up here?”
“I found treasure chest. Hit many times with stick to open. No treasure. Blue light instead. Then I see enemies and attacked them.”
“That’d be us, eh?” Magnar said.
“Must have been a trap for a hero,” E’thilia said. “Poor little thing. Those portals are one way trips. She’ll have to walk all the way back home on her own.”
“Past the land sharks and the sky tigers?” Magnar asked.
“And the undead settlement and the rhino-sized rhinoceros beetles,” E’thilia added.
“And me,” Khan said.
Magnar and E’thilia turned to stare at him.
“Joke,” Khan said. “But also mean golems.”
The trio looked between themselves and Gobbo. The two foot tall Goblin stood with her arms wide, still gripping his stick with intent to swing. She wore nothing but a ratty old cloth. Not even a pair of shoes.
“We could adopt her?” Magnar asked.
—
The hero struck Khan with a greathammer, driving him steadily backwards. E’thilia tried to project fear into the mortal, but he wore an Amulet of Warding that shielded him from her efforts. Magnar stood stunned off to the side, paralyzed by a magic spell. His eyes darted around the room, but even he had a hard time keeping track of Gobbo these days. He hoped she could stay hidden. Maybe another family would adopt her, if worse came to worst.
E’thilia conjured a barrier around Khan, but it broke after a single blow from the hero’s hammer. Khan had time to punch back, but he was sluggish with damage, and the hero easily blocked the attack before going back on the offensive. Magnar struggled to resist the paralysis, but his body was as heavy as ever, save an odd lightness on his right hip. He glanced down and saw his sword gone from its sheath.
He looked up just in time to see Gobbo plunge his broadsword into the hero’s back. While he was staggered, Khan slammed a fist into his chest, shattering his Amulet of Warding and driving him deeper onto the sword. Finally, E’thilia cast a mind destruction spell on him and his eyes burned brightly white for a few short moments before he evaporated entirely.
Everyone was stunned. Then Gobbo raised Magnar’s—No, *her* sword proudly into the air and her parents cheered.
“To Gobbo!” They shouted. “The strongest monster in the dungeon!”
—
John threw his controller at the wall. “Why the hell was there a goblin behind me? Why did it do so much damage? God, Miyazaki really blew the balance on this game.” | 395 | You, a low level minion, was accidentally transported to a secret endgame dungeon. The monsters there think you’re cute and begin to train you before sending you home. | 925 |
“THERE’S ONLY ONE WAY THIS IS GOING TO END, DRAGON!”
The knight held his sword in both hands, back pressed hard against the stone as he baited the scaled beast lurking around the corner. He sprung from behind the rock posed for a blow, but the dragon was not there. A large screech and the rumble of flames spewed from behind him. The knight dove to the ground and dragged himself as quickly as he could under the blaze, heat baking his armor. Finding refuge on the far side of another boulder, he ripped off pieces of his melting suit.
“THAT WAS A CLOSE ONE, DRAGON, BUT YOUR TREASURE WILL BE MINE!”
With a *thunk*, the dragon landed just in front of the knight, its lips curling and neck slowly unfurling to raise its head, mouth open, taking in the air to ignite one last breath.
“Finally,” the knight smiled to himself, “right where I want you.”
The dragon’s fiery breath pelted the stone where the knight had been. The dragon stared for a moment before the chains wrapped around its snout. The knight had mounted the dragon, tightening the chains around its mouth and moved onto doing the same to the dragon’s wings. The dragon lurched to attempt escape but quickly learned that the knight had already tied the chains to its legs. Tumbling, the dragon fell on its side and with a heavy, smoke-accented sigh, accepted defeat.
“I told you, Dragon, your treasure shall be mine! Now, I know you are a smart dragon, so play nicely with me,” the knight partly unsheathed his sword, “or you may never have another treasure again. Understood?” The dragon’s eyes darted towards his treasure and back to the knight. A small smile touched his face. “Oh don’t worry, dragon, I came prepared,” the knight said haughtily, removing an item from his suit and displaying it the dragon: a single USB flash drive.
The dragon’s eyes opened wide. It’s smile quickly became a frown. As much of a frown a dragon could make. Laughing, the knight sauntered to the recesses of the cave only the sounds of footsteps echoing in the distance. The dragon struggled in its chains, if only it could break free before the knight reached the… the familiar melody of the machine booting up filled the cave. The song of Windows. The knight had found it: The dragon’s treasure. Wailing, the dragon struggled to break the chains before it realized the knight was standing in front of him again, holding the laptop with one hand, typing away with the other, USB drive plugged into the machine.
“Two-factor authentication? You really are a great protector of your… lets see, *yes*, and sure let’s try this stored phone number. *Send one-time passcode*.” A moment hung in the area both the dragon and knight waited silently until the faint sound of *vrrrrrr-vrrrrrr* filled the otherwise empty air. Again, the knight smiled, and again, the dragon frowned. “You keep your phone on you? So protective, yet,” The knight climbed onto the dragon, patting around, pulling a cell phone from the folds beneath one of its wings, “yet… well lets just say you don’t *entirely* think things through do you? Ha! You don’t even password protect your phone! Goodness, you are making this too…” tapping at the laptop, the knight’s happiness quickly faded. “What’s…. what is this? What is this, dragon?”
The dragon’s laughter was deep and slow. The chains bound its mouth but enough slack let the beast speak, “What did you expect to find, my friend?” The voice was as low as the rumblings of his breath had been.
“You know what I came here for, monster! The bitcoin? Where is the *bitcoin*?” The knight yelled.
The dragon continued to laugh. “Well, maybe you should be on your way if you can’t find what you are looking for. But what you hold in your hand is much more valuable than bitcoin.”
“No, it is not,” the knight retorted.
“Yes it…” the dragon paused a moment and shifted his gaze toward the knight “Do you even know what you are looking at?”
“Yeah,” the fury was clear in the knights voice, “I am looking at a… a *worthless* NFT!” The knight spun the computer around, showing the image of the tweet to the dragon.
“But. But that’s Jack Dorsey’s first tweet! It’s worth…”
“Nothing!” The knight finished for the dragon. “Did you spend all your bit coin…”
“All my bitcoin…” the dragon absently finished for the knight. “But NFTs were… The value was supposed to…”
The knight dropped the laptop and unsheathed his sword. “Not everything raises in value, dragon! You’ve lived for over a millennia, surely you would know these things!” The knight pressed the point of the sword to the dragon’s neck. “Now I may end that long life of yours, unless you show me something that is worth a damn,” the knight dug the sword a little deeper into the dragon’s scales, “another one of your treasures perhaps?”
“Yes, yes,” the dragon whimpered. “I have something, it’s value far outweighs that of the bitcoin you came for. It must!”
“It must.” The knight repeated.
“Yes. Yes. Here just untie me and I will show you where it is. I promise you, knight, you never have seen such a priceless collection. My vast collection of,” the dragon gulped, “of *beanie babies*.” | 112 | Some Dragons don't hoard gold or jewels, but more interesting things, like irreplaceable family photos, or orphans, or limited edition runs of comic books. Like every dragon, they take very good care of their hoard. | 359 |
As I sit there, examining which treasure to seek next, I feel a warmth in the air - I turn, knowing that this happens whenever my companion shows up. Even though I had adopted him, I knelt down, showing my respect, as always; you do not mess with a dragon. "Is there anything you would like?" I asked.
The dragon, Mason, does not respond for several seconds. I began to feel tense; this encounter was going to be different...
"I always knew I was adopted" Mason finally says, "but you told me that my mother died protecting her nest... you've been hiding something from me, haven't you?"
I blink. I'm suddenly very nervous. He knows... "How did you find out?" I respond shakily. Mason has an angry look in his eyes.
"One of my friends asked if I knew what *really* happened to my mum, and told me that some treasure hunters killed her in cold blood... I didn't think much of it at first, until I realised that *you* **are** a treasure hunter!"
I gulp. What's going to happen to me now? "I'm sorry" I choke, "it's not like I *wanted* to kill your mother. I found her cave, I was with some friends, we heard of a great hoard. We... we tried to avoid waking her, but..." I begin to tear up "...I guess we failed. The plan was to fend her off, but you know what us humans are like... mistakes happen... it's why we took you in... it's why I looked after you... humans are... ***complex*** creatures. I- I'm so sorry." I was on my hands and knees now, my body drenched in tears, begging for forgiveness.
Mason looks at me thoughtfully, curiously... "The dragon elders are quick to punish humans for killing one of us" he states, "my friends didn't report you because they were worried about me... now I'm an adult, it is my responsibility to report you..." I'm terrified now, as I try to hold back my sobbing. "But... the elders are not cruel; normally, the death of a dragon is met with a slow and painful death of the killer. However," he pauses, "I think I can convince them to let you off easy, considering it was largely an accident and you took the time and care to raise me. You never even scolded me when I accidentally destroyed your car!"
I look up, my face red and sore. I was only 30 years old, I was not ready to go yet! "So... what will happen to me?" Mason beckons for me to get on him, and he takes me to the dragon society, high up, hidden by clouds...
&#x200B;
**200 Years Later**
As I sit in my large, fairly comfortable prison, waiting for Mason's daily visit, my body having not aged a day due to the magic surrounding this place, a hatchling is brought to me by an elder. "She was given to us by her parents, as she's been hatched without wings. We have no-one willing to look after her. The problem is that we, as a species, cannot take care of a youngling that cannot fly. We just don't know how. You've taken care of one dragon, maybe you could look after this one?"
I smile. Normally jobs given to me are mundane, humiliating or dangerous. It seems strange that, as a prisoner, they'd ask me to do this, but as the only human to have ever raised a dragon, and with my prison cell being more than enough for me to look after a dragon, they felt it was necessary. And I felt honoured. "Of course" I respond. "Just let me tell you what I'll need, and I'll happily look after her..." | 36 | After killing the dragon in order to get it's treasure, the adventuring party finds out, that it had a hatchling. They feel sorry for it and decide to adopt it. Years later, the now grown-up dragon finds out what has happened and confronts his adoptive parents about it. | 91 |
"Got any more wood?"
"Yep" Just bringing it over!"
"Good! I think, in just a few more days, we can get off this island! Just need to stick these together..." I begin to chant my spell again.
The hero and I were taking a vacation, and coincidentally ended up on the same ship. We only found out about each other when I used my magic in reflex to make my impact onto the floor more gentle. I learned to control the intensity of my power around the common man, but I saw someone staring at me... he then followed me all day until we were both alone in a room. He told me that he knew who I was, and how, and that he didn't want to fight this time, he very rarely got time off. I shared the same sentiment, and I think that was when it started.
We planned to just enjoy our vacation, but just as we were saying our usual goodbye threats to each other, there was a huge crash, as a large wave swamped the ship. I used my magic to get us both outside - I'd never leave anyone to drown, horrid death - and we quickly realised that everyone else had been swallowed up by the sea. We were lucky to be close enough to an island to swim there, and we realised that we'd have to rely on each other.
To make it easier, I started up random chit chat to get to know my nemesis, and it turns out we're both just doing our own thing - he's just doing his job as a hero, and I was just ruling over my kingdom. He realised I'm not the villain people make me out to be, and I realised that he doesn't care about bloodshed, he's just fulfilling his responsibility!
Now, after having been stranded for nearly a month, first focusing on survival, and then on escape, our boat was almost finished. We decided to take a break, and get to talking. "Want some fruit?" "Oh, sure" I say, as I bite into the juicy goodness. Then the hero looks concerned. "What's up?" I gurgle, juice spilling out my mouth. "I've been worried for a while now..." the hero gives a pained look before sighing. "When we get out of here... we're gonna be enemies again... I don't want that." I look at him, realising that he's right; one of us will have to fall to the other. I ponder for a moment. "Do you even wanna be a hero? Isn't it exhausting? You solve one problem, then instantly you have another problem to solve."
"Well, what else can I do?" the hero responds. "I can't just quit..."
"Well, we've been gone for a whole month, right? With me having put my most trusted sorcerer advisor in charge while I'm gone, would it be unreasonable for people to think I've been cooking up an evil plot? One which you got in the middle of while trying to hunt me down?" "What are you saying?" the hero asked, confusion in his voice. I put on a grin as I snap my fingers. Instantly, a collar appears on the hero, bearing my logo, and chains bind his hands and feet. "You could come back with me" I said, "people will think I captured you, I can set you up with something nice. You could sit on a chair next to mine, being a 'right hand man' if you will. What do you think?" To prove it's his choice, I snap my fingers again and, just like that, the collar and chains are gone. We stare at each other, as I wait for his answer... | 13 | You, a hero in a fantastic land, and your nemesis, a sorcerer, end up stranded together for a month. You soon realize that the two of you are not as different as you appear to be. | 45 |
**Item #:** SCP-6757
**Object Class:** Keter
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-6757 is ephemeral and cannot be contained by any method other than containment of information about SCP-6757. All documents detailing procedure Omega-6757 must be kept sealed in the Containment chamber.
**Procedure Omega-6757:** Every 7 days three D class personel, including one who has participated in previous procedures must enter SCP-6757's chamber.
They must chant the the contents of appendix SCP-6757-1 while using the obsidian dagger supplied to kill at least 7 and no more than 12 fruitfly, Drosophila melanogaster on the altar within the Containment chamber.
Every 28 days three D class personel, including one who has participated in previous procedures must enter SCP-6757's chamber and chant the the contents of appendix SCP-6757-2 while using the obsidian dagger supplied to kill 1 common mouse (Mus musculus) on the altar ensuring that at least 4 cc's of mouse blood flow into the channels on the altar.
D class personel should be replaced after no more than 6 repetitions of the procedure and administered B class amnestics.
In the event of the names and details in appendix SCP-6757-1 or appendix SCP-6757-2 becoming known by any personel not cleared for access class A amnestics should be administered to all affected or the personel eliminated. | 173 | Scientists revive a dead god through prayer, and worship him just enough to be alive but not powerful, so they can keep him in the lab to study how mana works. | 658 |
I shake my head slowly, furrowing my brows, bringing a hand to my forehead. I rub, as if that would stop the throbbing pain in my temples, where the interface for my implants are housed.
"How long was I in this time?"
"Twenty minutes, real time," Jules states, distracted as she puts the prototype headset into decon, keying in a cleaning cycle on the digital display.
I whistle at that. A whole lifetime in twenty minutes. It was a lot to process. It always was. But this was good progress.
"Pain on wakeup is a six."
Jules nods, walking over to me as I finally sat up on the gurney. She grabs my chart and makes a note.
"What's your name?" She asks cooly.
I sigh.
"Charles Freidman. Age 37. It's 2032. I'm conducting BCI experiential dilation and integration QA for Full Life Interactive in Seattle. And the president is...well shit."
Jules raises an eyebrow, writing something down on her clipboard.
"Okay. Moving on. Let's talk integration."
"Wait," I protest, "who is the president? It's not. It's not still DeSantis, is it?"
Another note in my chart.
"Integration." She presses on, to my frustration.
"I recall most of it. It's fading quickly, though."
Jules nods and writes.
I continue.
"Sole survivor narrative, land uninhabitable, nuclear wasteland. I spent years sailing, fishing, scavenging whatever coasts I could find. The radiation finally got me when I couldn't find more iodine."
More nodding. More writing.
"Coherence for the last few years was good. Nothing to pull me out of the experience. But the lead up was a mess. The absurdity of how people acted during the pandemic. The fervent, insane regression toward dark age ideology. The Doritos Locos Taco and Flaming Hot Mountain Dew."
At that, Jules looks up.
"The what?"
"Yeah, I know. But they tasted pretty good."
"Weird."
"Yeah."
I think back to before the bombs fell. It was all fading fast, I struggle to hold on, to work backwards through events like I would when trying to recall a dream.
"There were definitely moments, where the experience seemed to break down. Hints throughout popular culture, through academia, religion, etc."
"Such as?"
"Oh, it was extremely blatant. All these shows and popular figures espousing that we live in a simulation. Religions and spiritual ideologies that insisted reality was illusory, a big dream."
I turn toward Jules, swinging my legs and torso around, letting my feet dangle off the side of the bed. She's not writing, just looking at me, pen to her lips in thought.
"That's... a bit on the nose, but it makes sense."
"Sure," I agree, "it was the last thing on my mind as I went in. Not surprising my unconscious would use that as fodder to pad out the world's lore a bit."
Jules nods and goes back to scribbling in my chart.
"How many years did you get?"
I sigh again.
"Honesty? I don't remember. The last few on the boat all kinda just blur together. I wasn't great at tracking the passage of time. Was all I could do just to survive. I remember I was about 43 when the first nuke went off. Tactical. Part of an ongoing European conflict. Things were tense for a few years after that, then all hell broke loose while I was out on a fishing trip with my son."
Jules flips to another page.
"Family. Right. Any attachment there still."
I think back, delving into the dream-like memories of a life that was mine, yet not me.
"Jayden." I say.
"Marissa. Caroline."
I remember lakeside summers. Sweet barbecue. The nostalgic chirp of cicadas. Laughter. Smiles. The memories come in waves.
A lifetime in three names.
"It was nice."
The fear. The pleading. Why would Jayden return to shore? Why would he choose to die in vain and leave me alone in that forsaken boat? They were all dead. He knew this. I knew this. They *had* to be. Yes, they had to be. Right?
"Mostly."
I shake my head and shiver a bit, as if coming back into myself. Jules' concern is evident on her face.
"I'm fine." I force a smile. "No attachments."
Jules nods, her expression disappearing.
"Okay then." She says, sliding the pen under the clip of my chart.
"Let's get you some water, and a nap, and prep for round four. If we can get another full session at the same dilation rate without a sim dump, I think we'll have something to show Alex."
"Maybe something more pleasant this time?" I ask, hopefully.
"Sorry," Jules shakes her head, "we're stress testing today. No pleasant endings."
Another sigh escapes my chest.
"Alright. But FLI is paying for the therapy."
Jules laughs politely.
"Of course," she says, turning around, leaving me alone in the testing room.
Alone, with a hundred lifetimes of experience to keep me company. A million moments of joy. A million moments of agony.
Memories filed away, ready to be explored, again and again.
I lie back down, shut my eyes, and the facility's AI turns off the lights for me. As I drift to sleep, my throat grows tight. I hold back tears.
A hundred families. A thousand loved ones.
Gone.
Save for my dreams. | 304 | You were the last person on Earth. You managed to survive for days, no, years on your own. When you die, you wake up to a scientist taking off a VR headset and he says “You lasted longer than we expected.” | 596 |
With his last mortal breath, Elgathar the Ferocious screamed as the eternal flames absorbed him. His once-brown eyes flickered to a vibrant red. He grinned in delight. There was no need for an elixir of life, after all. Immortality was gained a different way.
It was glorious, for the first century or so, flaunting his self-made power over all else and conquering the lands. He forged a kingdom, which became an empire, and within 186 years and 43 days of his immortal life, the entire globe was obeying his rule. First he was cruel. Then he was benevolent. Then he was cruel again - after all, niceness was not in his repertoire of common personality traits. Time continued on, as it tended to do, and as centuries became millennia, Elgathar the Ferocious decided it would be best to live a more simple life, treating days and decades as little, self-contained treasures. He left the world in a half-decent state, and lived within the mountains.
Prophecies popped up, stating how Elgathar would be defeated by his direct descendant. It was a cause for concern in his early decades, where he committed a paranoid genocide on people he thought were his brood, where he abstained from creating more for a century more. Still, one or two could have escaped. Eventually, he gave up on being scared. There was no point, really. He gave up his vow of chastity also, because Elgathar the Ferocious was the sort of person who liked that sort of thing every few years - or months - or decades... Time was difficult to keep track of, especially when your mind was meant for no more than a century's worth. Ah well.
Ten thousand years passed since Elgathar defied death. A young, brave-faced teenager knocked on his door in his cabin atop the mountains. To come all this way to visit him - how nice. So polite too, to knock. The teenager had learned of the immortal soul who once ravished and caused such carnage on the lands in history class, and had learned too of the prophecies about direct descendants. One look at the family tree led the teenager to believe they were destined to slay Elgathar the Ferocious, then claim a large bounty or something else cool.
Elgathar opened the door. Looked down.
"Hello. What's your name? Did you come all this way by yourself?" He asked, in a voice that hadn't been used for 106 years.
"Ash, sir. Which is what you'll be soon enough. I challenge you to a duel!" The teenager said, in a quivering yet confident voice.
"Must we? I've just popped the potatoes on. Oh, very well... To the death, I suppose?" Elgathar was rather bored with the prophecy, leading certain individuals to think they're special. Only last eclipse there was someone else on the mountain pass, who'd died trying to get to him. 300 years ago as well, there'd been quite a few duels. He didn't win every one, but was pretty decent. Also not being able to die was rather handy in those sorts of things.
"Yes, to the death. At sundown! Out here! I will be ready for you." Ash said. They were secretly doubting everything by now, but to die a glorious death would be better than become a cabbage merchant like their father in their mind.
Sundown came. Ash stood confidently, the wind blowing through their hair, with a proud expression due to the cause they thought was righteous. Elgathar shuffled out of his hut and drew a dagger, a tiny, rusted thing compared to Ash's elegant sword, but it was sharp and good at peeling spuds.
"Are you absolutely certain you want to do this to the death?" Elgathar asked, worried for this teen.
"Hah, yes! You have heard of the prophecy, then! You are afraid of me!"
With a shrug that said 'let's get this over with', the immortal bowed, respectfully. Hopefully duelling has not changed in a few millennia, else he just left his neck vulnerable for no reason. The kid bowed also. Good.
Elgathar stepped forth, and swiftly plunged the dagger into the teen's neck. Blood pooled. The kid choked, but still tried to slash at him. Missed. Missed again. Chopped off an arm, that'd take a while to grow back.
Finally, Ash relented. He screamed in despair and pain.
"But I'm your direct descendant! Which means I'm fated to defeat you!"
"Kid, I'm ten thousand years old. Everyone in the kingdom is my direct descendant. You're nothing special."
With that, Elgathar pulled Ash up, and brought out a lighter from his pocket.
"You've got guts, though. Do you wish to survive this, die in agony but with some semblance of glory - or whatever you want to justify it, or never die again? Choose quickly, you don't have long."
"Live." The frightened teen declared, as their eyes glazed over.
Elgathar used the lighter, summoning the eternal flame, to heal the singular wound he inflicted. Life returned to the kid.
"Live, but not forever, right? Trust me, you don't want to - but now your neck is kind of invulnerable. Yeah." Elgathar said, reassuring young Ash, who was soon sent on their way.
Another ten thousand years passed. There'd been plenty more descents that challenged him. All who visited he offered immortality to, mostly out of boredom than any noble ideal, but each one declined. Well, one or two didn't, one of which spent several centuries trying to kill him, but eventually they all settled down. Eventually, one descendant decided to simply push Elgathar off a cliff, into a tundra and call it a day. Turns out that counted as defeating, mostly because the immortality born of fire would be quenched by water, doubly so with a lot of snow.
And so ends this tale of immortality and fate. | 704 | "But I'm your direct descendant! Which means I'm fated to defeat you!" "Kid, I'm ten thousand years old. Everyone in the kingdom is my direct descendant. You're nothing special." | 3,292 |
#WalkMan & Dr. Doomsday
"Brenda here will get you set up in our system." Doctor Doomsday told me, escorting me through the halls of his Fortress of Doomitude. "I know you don't intend to stay forever, WalkMan, but this way we can at least pay you for your time with us."
I uttered a simple grunt in return.
Doctor Doomsday clasped my shoulder with one robotic hand. "Lighten up, WalkMan" He said to me, grinning from ear to ear. "You may even begin to enjoy it if you give it a chance."
The villain left me alone with the middle age woman he had called Brenda. I could faintly hear Doctor Doomsday cackle as he walked out of the Human Resources wing, before the sliding doors closed behind him. The light from the hallway shone through the glass door, casting an image of the corrupted Rod of Asclepius Doomsquad logo onto the carpet.
Brenda herself was a short woman, somewhere north of middle aged if I had to guess. She wore a brown pants suit with no hint of decorative color or accessory.
"Welcome to the Fortress of Doomitude, the main base of operations for the Doomsquad." She said, in a chipper voice suited for someone of a much younger stature.
"Yeah" I replied, taking the empty seat on the visitor side of her desk. "I'll be working with Doctor Doomsday until we've-"
"Yes, Doctor Doomsday has explained the circumstances of your employment." Brenda said, cutting me off with polite professionalism. Her fingers flew across the mechanical keyboard on her desk, creating a staccato of key presses as she typed. "We can skip the 401K matching plan if you'd like to expedite this process."
"Hold on, you have matching 401K contributions?" I asked, caught off guard.
Brenda nodded, not taking her eyes from the computer screen. "We match up to 25% for new hires, and 75% after your first full year of employment or first successful field operation, whichever comes first."
I stared at the short woman in shock. "The Hero's Union only matches up to 3%" I said quietly.
Brenda clicked a few buttons and squinted at the screen. "You can roll over any previous retirement plans into this one after 6 months of employment, if you choose. But that can be decided later."
With a monumental force of will, I pushed past the retirement plan options. I wasn't planning on making a career of helping Doctor Doomsday take down the mysterious 'The Office' organization.
"Lets skip that for now" I said, and waited for Brenda to finish clacking away at the keyboard before speaking again.
"Next up is the vacation and sick day policies." Brenda said, flipping her screen around to show me the display. "In your first year, you qualify for three weeks of vacation, and unlimited sick days with a doctors note. We take employee health very seriously here. If you feel like you're getting sick, visit the infirmary here immediately for diagnosis and treatment."
"Let me guess..." I said, as I leaned forwards to read the screen.
"Doctor Doomsday is the medical officer, yes." Brenda answered the unasked question. "One of his doctorates is in medicine, after all. He even keeps his medical license up to date."
I raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Let's skip past this too. My healing playlist can cure anything, so I won't be needing that."
Brenda turned her screen back to its usual position, and resumed the machine gun rattle of typing on her keyboard. "Ok, we have contact information next. Who is your next of kin?"
I paused. "Um, I guess that would be Steven, my son."
Brenda paused, giving me a good look for the first time. "You're Steven's father?" She asked, her eyes lighting up at mention of the boy. "I absolutely *adore* him, he reminds me of my step-son at that age. Did you teach him how to make that ice cream like he makes?"
I stared at Brenda in silence. I didn't really feel up to explaining my whole life's story to this woman, about how his mother had hidden the pregnancy from me, raised Steven in secret, only to be revealed to me by Doctor Doomsday himself as part of one of his nefarious plans...
"No" I answered, after an uncomfortable silence. "He learned that elsewhere."
Brenda nodded, and turned back to the screen. "Ok, well we already have Steven's information, obviously, so I'll skip this section." She hummed to herself as she steadily clicked the mouse, most likely hitting a 'skip' button until she got to the next section.
"Do you have any allergies or illnesses that we should be aware of?" She asked, then fell silent in thought. "I suppose you can cure anything like that yourself, so we can skip medical too."
I nodded, staying silent once more.
"Ok, one last thing here." Brenda said, typing furiously once more. "Would you like to enroll in our continuing education program? We pay for a single college class per semester, hosted online by our local University."
I considered this briefly. "Yes, actually."
Brenda bent down to open a desk drawer, and came back up with a brochure. A diverse mix of smiling students were posed on the cover, standing on some sort of abstract art piece.
"Were there any classes you are interested in?" Brenda asked, as I perused the brochure. "The subjects do not necessarily need to relate back to your work duties here, but it is encouraged."
I glanced up from the pamphlet. "Do they offer any engineering classes?"
Brenda's eyes lit up once more. "They do! They offer a wide variety of engineering subjects. Were you looking for anything in particular? They have Electrical, Civil, Aerospace-"
I glanced back to the pamphlet, and the hand clutching it. Specifically, I looked at the robotic ring finger on my right hand. I watched it adjust itself ever so slightly, keeping in synch with the real fingers on either side.
"Mechanical." I said, and clenched the pamphlet in my fist.
"Certainly!" Brenda said, oblivious to the pamphlet's demise. "Would you like for me to sign you up for the fall semester?"
"Please" I muttered, returning to my usual speech pattern of one-word grumbles.
After a few more clicks, a printer groaned as it woke from its slumber, and spat out a relatively small document. Brenda took the paper, gave it a once over proof read for any glaring errors, then handed it to me.
"Please sign here, here and here." She said, indicating each spot with a small sticker of the Doomsquad logo. I removed each one before signing.
Brenda took the form back, examining them briefly once more, then filed them away in some bureaucratic jungle of manilla folders.
"Mr. Man, I would like to officially welcome you to the Doomsquad. Would you like to be fitted for your uniform today?"
"Yes, he would." A voice answered behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see Doctor Doomsday had returned, grinning widely still. His cheek muscles were in danger of bursting from all the smiling he was doing lately.
"I want the option to have you blend in with other minions in the field," Doctor Doomsday explained. "A uniform and facial covering would-"
"I was going to do it anyways" I grumbled at my nemesis. "Never know when something like that could come in handy."
/r/SlightlyColdStories for more | 27 | A hero goes undercover as a henchman for a villain however they discover that the villains employee benefits are much better than the Heroes association. | 164 |
My name is Roderick Sherman. Or it was. I haven't been called that by anyone in a long time. My masters call me Sh-kaah. I'm a first generation human on Uush. What that means, for humans not familiar with the place, is that I grew up on earth.
I was taken from my bed in high-school. Dreams of football and electrical engineering shattered while they were still forming. Woke up in a cage on an alien planet with about a dozen other high-school kids. It was a nice cage, almost a prison cell even, but it was a cage. We were all selected for a blossoming program on Uush that all us 'recruits' lovingly called the K-10 program.
We talked some. Not all of us spoke English, but we included the ones who didn't as best we could. There were murmurs of escape, but we really didn't have time to plan or prepare anything. By the time we had introduced ourselves, earth was a pale blue dot in the corner of the window and we were off to our new home.
We had all been taken from athletic aspirations. This wasn't an accident. The training was difficult. It took some doing at first to understand what our captors were trying to communicate. They are reptilian in nature and their mouths and ours just aren't capable of all the same sounds.
The physical aspects of the training were Grueling. At first they had us doing cardio. We were all used to it, but they started increasing the gravity during our training sessions. Let me tell you that running in 2g environments is surreal. Like running in a dream. Your everything feels too heavy.
We bulked up fast. Once we were comfortable running our entire training session in 2g, they started training us in tracking. The ship had a large field room, It was slightly larger than a football field and it was host to both an urban and jungle environment. The training was fun. I'm not ashamed to admit that. We were in 'standard' gravity in there. Our handlers would give us each a handful of items to find.
It was a big scavenger hunt and I was good at it. I liked Parkour as a kid and I had the legs for tall jumps so I could scale the outsides of the handful of buildings. I was getting mobile and *fast* and my trainers were taking notice.
I suppose I should go into more detail about my new home and the people in it shouldn't I? Uush is a small planet orbiting a star far from earth. It's climate is largely tropical and what wildlife it has is small and fragile. The locals are no exception. Uushans are only about three feet tall and they have soft, doughy bodies. I'm told they can live to be sixty, but they often die in their thirties.
Comparatively, humans are huge and fucking indestructible.
The metaphor I like using to my fellow K-10 is that we're essentially police elephants. That metaphor is more apt than I like sometimes Frankly.
Training ended when we reached uush, took us maybe a year and a half? We immediately entered active duty when we arrived. That was thirty years ago for me. I'm still as strong and fast as the day I landed. My career has been pretty decorated if I may brag.
I was surprised that there were so many humans on Uush. I found out that we're a popular pet. They did a lot abducting during the 1900s apparently. The second and third generation humans are tall and skinny. Almost to an unnerving degree. The low gravity of the planet has that effect I imagine.
Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to be a house human instead of working like this, but it feels good to help and my handlers treat me exceptionally. I have my own space and they trust me to cook and clean for myself so I'm mostly independent. That's a rarity for humans here. I worked hard to earn the privilege though.
Today is a big day for me. We're preparing to raid a fighting ring. A human fighting ring specifically. They're highly illegal, for good reason. Organizers often traumatized the poor people, while committing medical atrocities to give them a fighting edge. The result is a group of barely controllable humans with weapons literally grafted onto their bodies, who hate Uushan people vehemently. I've seen some victims and it's not pretty.
I've been given the go-ahead to use lethal force for this operation. This is my third time with the opportunity ever.
Uushan are pretty big on the whole every life matters thing, so this is taken pretty seriously. I knew it meant my life would be in danger too. I was ready. I could feel the mechanics in my joints spin to life as I entered a running stance in the back of the transport.
Hundreds of uushan had been killed by the head of the group, and my current handler told me that brutality was encouraged. I wasn't being held back. This was a serious mission. I could feel the sizable muscles in my legs tense up.
I was a freight train that was used as a scalpel. They were taking off the breaks. | 10 | In a world where humans are mostly pets, you are a police human. | 15 |
"All payloads deployed successfully in target orbit." The room cheered and exchanged high-fives. The commotion lasted a few minutes, the tension filling the headquarters of Astron Satellite Operations easing all at once. Launch was always the most stressful part — nobody wanted to see all their hard work go up in a giant ball of flames, after all. Once the satellites were in orbit, things generally went pretty smoothly, maybe a couple failures here and there, but when you launched a hundred small satellites at once that wasn't a big deal. Not that they weren't expensive, of course, each one lost was a couple million dollars down the toilet — but that was accounting's problem, not theirs.
"Hey, I heard from Jim the satellites are gonna be passing right overhead in a few minutes, wanna come outside and look?"
"You heard that from Jim? Well I suppose there's always a *chance* he's right for once." Alicia snickered. "Sure I'll come."
Most of the people not actively piloting the satellites left the room, following Dale and Alicia out. Dale turned back as he left the room. "Hey Jim, wanna come watch?"
No response. "Jim's busy steering the dang things, Dale. Or trying at least." Alicia got a laugh out of most of the small crowd, minus Dale. She looked back while walking out the door. "Actually, where *is* Jim? Well I guess who cares. I wonder if we'll be able to see the satellites?"
"Well, given that it's daytime, probably not. Except... Jim said there's a way the satellites could rotate so it reflects the sun down at some spot on the ground... if there are a hundred of them, maybe one of them's gonna happen to be pointed the right way."
They waited, staring up at the sky. "This is stupid, why are we bothering?" Alicia didn't look away though.
The wait felt endless, but after a couple minutes, all at once in the sky there appeared points of light. Not one or two, but a hundred satellites in full reflective glory, tracking swiftly across the blue sky. Not just scattered into a haphazard cloud like normal, waiting to start their journey into new orbits — but, to the shock of everyone, arranged into words, spelling:
"I QUIT — JIM" | 13 | Why yes, this is clearly the intended use for this multi-million dollar piece of hardware. | 27 |
A deviation from the prompt; it's not really a full story, but just something that struck me.
___
"Don't tell anyone I told you... But they're going to kill the king," a servant told Adrius, the boy king of eighteen years. And at the words, the boy king's eyebrows rose, then fell into a furrow, his gaze narrowing on the servant—on his friend.
"You mustn't be serious, Pull." A servant's name through and through, given to him by his master's master, for when the boy had been so young, and his entire job had been to pull water buckets from a well. The name stuck like a stain. But Pull shook his head, a deadly seriousness in his features.
The servant boy shored himself up next to Adrius—or Adi as the servants had come to known him in these past few weeks—and Pull glanced around, looking with a worry of someone who feard. And when Pull decided it safe, he leaned over, whispering his words. "Nah, I'm telling you, heard the captain talkin' about it; heard the master is all mad about it, saying something about how the king couldn't even bother coming to his death."
Adrius frown deepened. Did his people really not love him? *No,* he thought, that wasn't it. His people cared for him, for his family cared for them. The last of an old lineage that chose their people over all else. Adrius's frown turned to a grimace. He could see it now. His father had barred the nobility, had stopped their rampant, greedy demands on the young and the old, had called the elites by a different name: he had called them villains. And the accident that left his family shattered. The carriage that had failed, that had crashed against sharp stones, leaving behind broken bodies.
Adrius breathed out, a rasping shock finding him for he saw the light of a cruelty laid out in his mind's eye.
Pull, misunderstanding, nodded his head emphatically. "*Terrifying,* ain't it? Lord's gonna kill of this kid, no reason, not at all." Then Pull looked around, sighting to find lingering gazes, listening for eavesdropping ears; he looked towards the rock of the archways that flanked both sides of the little stone servant's hallway. But no one stood there; no one listened with a wandering ear. So Pull continued, his voice more sheepish than man, his fear clear in his tone.
"I don't think its fair... King's just a kid—like us—But what do you think, Adi; I know you know books, know them better than Aunt Mills," (the woman who ran the kitchen), "and I know you know what good thinkin' looks like. You've been saying good things since you got here." Pull looked again and licked his lips like terror of his words could steal the moisture away.
Pull breathed in, and Adrius knew his friend's attempt at slowing his mind, relaxing an anxious heart. He had seen the boy do it many times, for the terror of a servant's life afflicted Pull, causing him to overthink, lock himself with worries, and turn his tasks into failures. Those failures often found him at a lord's teaching violence one too many times.
For here, in the north of the kingdom, where kindness died of the coldness that people here held, harsh violence was a teacher, not soft words. And Adrius had hated the sight during his first day pretending to be a servant when service is what he should have had, for he was a king, finding fun in the act. But during his first day, he saw the violence of the nobility and chose to stay in hiding, to better understand the men that served him. But Adrius could not let the servant boy's beatings continue, for the boy's crimes had not been a failed task, but a task done slowly, a more grievous crime it seemed.
Adrius had stepped in, finding a stern hand against his cheek, knocking him to the snow of the courtyard, and the mocking jeers of a captain guard. The pain burned, yet a bond was born, between a king and a serving boy. And that friendship grew into what it was now, and now Pull saved the life of his friend, without ever knowing a truth that he would learn in a year's time, but now was not the time.
Now, Adrius spoke in the stone servant's hall, where the gray of rock contrasted with the pale terror within Adrius. "I... Are you sure," he asked, disregarding Pull's questions.
The boy nodded with earnest alacrity. "Sure as sure can be, Adi; sure as the summer after spring; sure as the sun rising in the morn; sure as night after evening's cold."
And once more Adrius breathed out, considering the words, considering his choices. Was he not king of these lands? The man who could order these people to follow him? Was he not his father's son? Could he not right the wrongs here? Yet, as he considered, and as the sun's warmth left for the long shadow of night's darkness began its stalking presence, Adrius knew the guards would not listen to him here. For their cruelty matched their lord's. The north knew no kindness, this he knew as his time in the kitchen's where the only warmth came from hard work—which the boy king did not mind. No, Adrius knew as the red of evening turned black like the heart of the northern lords that he would die if he said a command.
In that quiet hallway where two friends stood, their bond the only warmth in a now cold hallway, Adrius made his mind, choosing to live through this night, returning to the south, finding his people and warring against the injustice of the north. But, as the cold drew in, Adrius did not abandon the boy who saved his life. And so the two fled in the night, one a king and one a servant, but both as friends. | 24 | New king shows up alone at a lord's castle the day before the rest of his retinue and is mistaken as the new kitchen boy. Not afraid of hard work, and having a good sense of humor, he plays along. | 54 |
Every culture has their own proverbs, but some are universal. Some like, “don’t wake the sleeping dragon.” Imagine my surprise when someone did so on purpose. Then imagine my amusement when I saw who it was. Such a trifling thing was never worth remembering.
It happened thusly.
I yawn and work my jaw about, raising my tail and smacking it against my side where some insect is gnawing at me. Pieces of villagers dislodge from my teeth as I slowly swing my head around, only to still, focusing one eye on the offender.
“What’ss thiss? A little mouse?” I say softly, running my gaze over the inconsiderable creature. It has fallen over onto its hindquarters and is staring up at me with wide, scared eyes, as most of its kind are want to do when I’m near. Evidently my tail failed to strike it. “Did I misss one?”
It doesn’t say anything. Its holding a dismembered arm of a human adult close to its chest. In the other hand it holds something small and sharp which, to my surprise, it raises and drives into my side between my scales. It doesn’t say a word as it does.
I rumble out a low chortle. “Ssso brave. Are you trying to cut your parents out?”
It drives its knife into my side again.
“Or maybe…” I slither my head down next to it. My eye is nearly as big as its body. “…you’d like to join them?”
It trembles as I near, holding its knife out to me while clutching the arm tighter to its chest.
“I’m already so very full. But I can make room for one more.”
It shakes so violently that it trips and flails for balance. It amuses me, and I laugh all the louder.
Until it drives its knife into my eye.
I yank my head back with a roar, lurching up to stand and dragging my foreclaw along my snout. “Wretch! Worm!” I stomp my feet where it had been standing and slam my tail into the ground. Becoming my meal is too great a privilege for something so contemptible, so beneath me—instead I’ll crush it *flat.*
When my eye stops watering, I turn my gaze back to the insect with flames licking at my teeth, but I’m unable to discern its corpse from the rest surrounding me. Still feeling the sting of its insult, that it would *dare* strike my magnificent self in such a craven manner, I unleash my hellfire across the earth so that the remains of it and its brethren won’t even have the honor of fertilizing what comes after. They and their accomplishments will be ash, and I will scatter what remains of their essence to the four winds.
It only takes one flap of my wings to destroy what remains of their village. I leave it a blazing inferno and take to the sky towards my den, satisfied with my work and the fullness of my belly.
That should have been the end of it. Another dirty herd of livestock—one of many. But as I stare down the armies of man assembled against me with all manner of dragon-killing weapons and magiks, I smell a familiar scent on the wind coming from a figure standing at the host’s head and can’t help but remember.
The little mouse lifts her sword towards me in challenge. I chortle. Fate, it seems, is not without its sense of humor.
When I destroy these worms, I’ll eat her last. I want her to watch again. | 95 | You are an evil dragon who has gone out and ravaged a village. After slaughtering the villagers, you lay down to rest upon a pile of corpses. After a few hours of evil dreams, you wake to a small poke in your side. You open your eyes and see a brave little girl trying to slay you with a knife. | 174 |
"stop and say that one more time you fuckin liar."
Flen waddled beside his buddy as they waited in line at the cafeteria.
"I swear to God, it was a fucking human, 6 feet from me." The squid like being replied, spittle flying from whichever orifice he decided to speak from that time.
"A human being. Like, from earth?" Flen asked incredulously. He reached for a bowl of mashed Grint beans and placed it on his tray. The side dish was a delicacy on his planet, but not many other species liked it much. Even the cafeteria attendant made a face.
"No. A human from Licorice planet 7, where all your dreams come true. Yea earth, you numb skull." Chax quipped. He used a tentacle to grab to kebab type food items with an undefinable meat.
"Woah, easy. Not all of us got skulls. You don't want to get written up for "uninclusive vocabulary" again. You'll lose your committee assignments. So anyway, what did it want?"
Flen flexed his fingers and extended his talons, then began plucking berries from a Harbroid bush conveniently placed along the buffet line. The line moved continentally slow today.
"Apologies for my ableist behavior. I meant it as a metaphor. Besides, the human didn't actually speak to me. It asked the committee why they hadn't been invited to the galactic union sooner."
Chax made a chortling, gurgle sound. Laughter on his home world.
"Well what did the committee chair say?"
Flen asked, frustrated at the slow pace of the lunch line.
"What do you think he said? The committee on planetary acceptance isn't responsible for every intelligent species that pops up in bum fuck nowhere, milky way. There are orders and processes and paperworks that have to be done just to get a meeting like this set up."
They finally reached the register and paid for their lunches. Then came the arduous task of finding a seat. Eventually, they managed.
"So what did the human say?"
Flen asked, a beak full of berries and beans.
"It kind of looked puzzled about the whole response, then said the dumbest shit I've ever heard."
Flen waited anxiously for what the human told the committee chair. Chax leaned in close, and attempted a whisper.
"The human looked the chair in the eye and said, 'your name means 'Fallus' in our language.' and then walked out the front door."
Chax made the gurgling laughing sound again.
Flen thought his response over.
"What does that even mean?"
Chax chortled back, "hell if I know, but you should have seen chairman Schlong's face."
And burst into another fit of laughter. | 51 | When Humanity made contact with the Galactic Community, they were surprised to see us. Not because they thought we would never make it, but because, on the galactic scale, Earth is in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere and nobody knew we even existed. | 176 |
"wait, what? Are you serious"
Said the villain surpriced
"Sigh.. i may be evil but kidnapping someone is just too much so stop sobbing and tell me who kidnapped her so we can go and save her"
Said the villain as he stood up and sheated his sword
"Are you really gonna help me after all the fights we have had?"
Said the hero with his face full of tears
"Well, we've known each other for quite long a time now so i can tell you aren't gonna backstab me"
"C'mon, let's go get you a weapon from the arsenal so we can get going to beat their asses"
"Hey guard, go tell the rest of the soldiers in this castle to prepare"
the villain ordered the guard who was protecting the door
"Are you sure? These guys are quite tough" asked the hero
"My army is the strongest of these lands, no matter how strong they are, they won't defeat us"
Said the villain confidently before leaving the castle
-----
-----------
-----
"... What did you do to upset these guys?"
Asked the villain to the hero while looking at the kidnapper's fortress
It was a fortress twice as big as the villain's and had an army atleast four times as big as the villain's that was already waiting for them
"SO YOU HAVE COME FOR YOUR SISTER?!"
Said the leader of the enemy army at the hero
"GIVE HER BACK, YOU MONSTER"
Said the hero shouting
"IF YOU WANT HER BACK, THEN COME AND LET'S FIGHT TO DEAT-"
*SLAP
A loud slap sound was heard all over the battlefield
"STOP FIGHTING YOU TWO" said the hero's sisted after slapping the enemy army leader "WHEN ARE YOU GONNA UNDERSTAND THAT HE IS MY BOYFRIEND AND NOT A KIDNAPPER?!" she said to the hero
"This is the last time i try to help you with your problems, hero"
said the villain with a dissapointed voice as he withdrew his army | 68 | The villain sharpens his sword, as a guard opens the door nervously. "Yes?" the villain says. Unable to say anything, the guard simply lets the hero in... weaponless. Aren't we supposed to duel again? The hero gets down on his knees, sobbing. "Please help me, my- my sister, she's been taken!" | 251 |
I stand atop the building, looking out at the city. The fog had just rolled in, and paired with the new moon, the streets would be dark and full of danger. From my vantage point, I look out, and listen in the mist. Claws scrape concrete. Wings flap and fold. A woman screams out in terror. She's too far for me, though. Another will get to her sooner.
I wait on that ledge, like I do every night since the bonding ritual. I thought it failed, to be honest. A human and an animal enter the circle. One being leaves. That's how it's supposed to go. But my animal, through a freak accident, died before the process could finish. That poor horse's heart just wasn't strong enough to complete the ritual. And I was trapped, alone in a convergence process with nobody. With nothing. Or so I thought.
The physical changes were not obvious. My skin stayed the same. My eyes didn't glow. My teeth weren't razor sharp. I thought I got lucky. I thought it just failed. I thought I was just a man, the night I was robbed at gunpoint.
He took my wallet. He took my phone. And to be safe, he wanted to make sure there weren't any witnesses. Police couldn't keep up with all the crime since any old criminal could use an animal ability to cause havoc and mayhem now. But to be safe, he pulled the trigger anyway.
And the bullet bounced off my head, ricocheting right into his thigh. He didn't last long before the blood ran out.
Since then, I'm the one they call when nobody else can be the hero someone needs.
A nuclear power plant starts to leak? I can walk through without a problem.
The ISS needs saving, but the space suits are all fucked? Strap me to a rocket. I'm on my way.
Fire, blizzards, debris flying at you at 100 miles an hour? I don't even blink.
I hear a grunt, only a half block away. A child yells out, "don't hurt my daddy."
I'm close enough.
I take a step off the ledge, and let gravity do the work. The impact shatters the concrete sidewalk, now riddled with craters from my nightly adventures. I run into the mist to help a child and her father. Ever invincible. Ever undying.
I am the Tardigrade man. | 325 | Humans can Bond with animals to gain superpowers based on the traits of that animal. You just Bonded an animal that no one else in human history has been able to Bond with | 440 |
The little girls fear filled the room as her eyes grew wide in horror. She looked ready to scream, but terror had closed her throat. She cluched her blankets till her knuckles turned white, and her arms began to twitch.
"I know you are afraid, but don't worry, I am here to protect you now." The small boys voice was gravelly. Savage white teeth gleamed in the light of the girl's small lamp, and razor sharp claws flashed the light around with the boys every breath. His thick, spined tail lashed anxiously as he turned to face the closet door, his teeth baring as the door slowly started to open.
"Ah, that smell. I've not had it grace my nose in many many years. Why, the smell of a little wyrmling. Strange, I thought they had all been done away with." The door creaked slowly as a tall, slender man appeared in the doorway. Pale skin almost glowed in the dark room, and white fangs poked quietly out of the man's mouth. Light blonde hair flowed down the man's back, resting quietly on the man's shoulders, and a whip-like tale swung lazily behind him. He wore an eccentric red suit and had thin black sunglasses on his face, but his glowing red eyes were not so easily hidden.
The man stepped forward, silent as the grave. Not even his step shook the quiet of the room, but the girl's whimpers started to increase in volume.
"Stop there demon trash. I am Anoval the dragon, and I will not let you harm this girl." A blue light shown from the boys mouth as he spit the words.
"Anoval the dragon? Pah, your hardly older than a hatchling, let alone a dragon." The man took another step forward, lazily waving aside the little dragon. "Move aside little lizard, you are no match for me."
A bolt of lightning disintegrated the demons hand in a flash of blue light. The demon cried out in pain, stumbling back a step, clutching his smoking arm.
"I said no closer demon. You stand before Anoval, the lighting dragon, and my name will not see defeat, nor stand for insult." The boy shook slightly, smoke floating up from his mouth. As the demon rose again, he entered a fighting stance.
"Damn dragons. Always were so troublesome. So prideful." The demons arm burst forth from the burning nub, looking just the same as before. "You should have walked away."
In a flash, the demon charged, thin, sharp claws growing from its fingertips. Sparks flew as Anoval's claws caught the demon mid swing. Another flash of light erupted as lighting flew from Anoval's mouth again, but the demon dissapeared as the bolt flew. Appearing again in another corner of the room, the demon wore a sadistic smirk, but that quickly changed to fear as Anoval's tail smashed into the demons midsection, slamming him against the wall. An instant later, claws raked against the demons face and ribs as Anoval pounced. With a final scream of pain and terror, the demon dissapeared in a cloud of smoke. Anoval stood quickly, scanning the room with his now glowing blue eyes. Then his body slumped slightly, and the blue glow faded from his eyes.
"He is gone now. You're safe." The boy turned to the little girl, her blankets still clutched in her hands just as she was being cluched by her fear. She stood stock still.
A soft cooing noise came from Anoval's throat as he slowly walked over to the girl. Hearing the noise, the girls fisted relaxed, and her eyes began to droop.
"Yes, there you go. Sleep little one. Sleep well, and know you are safe. I am Anoval, the Last Dragon, and I will guard you until you wake. By morning, this will all just be a bad dream." The cooing continued until the girl was breathing deeply and rhythmically again. Then Anoval sat carefully beside her bed, staring toward the now closed closet door.
By the time the sun shone in on the little girl's face, signaling her that it was time to wake, Anoval was gone, taking the little girls fearful dreams with him. | 29 | "There is a monster in your closet, but I shall protect you." | 123 |
My first time writing, please forgive me
The communications array light flashed on. As the UN linguists and scientists were adjusting their collar ties and all preparations were made for the first extraterrestrial contact.
Linguists had deciphered and successfully translated the cryptic messages that the foreign fleet had sent, as it had been there for 2 months. Live communications were on its way.
Taking a big gulp of cold water, UN Extraterrestrial Ambassador Daniel Formosa tapped the microphone.
"Peaceful and humble greetings from our world. We intend no harm, we only wish for peaceful greetings amongst each of our peoples. Who are you?"
The light flashed green, and a large bold white message appeared on the 11 inch display. "The disc. What is its purpose?"
Confused and taken aback, the ambassador tapped the microphone with his bony finger again.
"Disc?"
"84 local revolutions before. A metallic disc was sent towards our vessels at high velocities, originating from your world. What is it?"
Sweat drizzling from his eyebrows, Daniel worried the fleet might've interpreted something incorrectly and were preparing to unleash hostilities.
Daniel and his linguists glanced at each other, puzzled and worried. One of his colleagues grumbled something along the lines of a manhole.
A few tense seconds later, it struck him.
"The manhole! From 1958! Y-You know... the project where they blew a manhole into space!"
Realizing this, Daniel punched the microphone button, his palms still sweating.
"Our people unintentionally launched a metallic disc using a nuclear detonation, we meant no harm!"
Daniel slowly slouched back from the microphone button, the entire room anxiously waiting for the light to turn green and the screen to display something.
Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes, into hours. The linguists worried they may have made an error at translation, but none spoke out in fear of losing their jobs.
The light turned green, white boring text appeared on the recently cleaned display screen.
"Understood"
The entire room breathed a sigh of relief, and daniel chugged another glass of cold water.
Shortly after, the scientists radioed the linguistics team, announcing the fleet's departure from our solar system. | 15 | Our first meeting with aliens was a war fleet coming to ask why we shot a highly radioactive manhole cover at them. we have to explain the story behind the atomic tests. | 80 |
I sat quietly at my desk, carefully transcribing the old text. This volume was probably 300 years old and needed to be saved before words were lost to age. I remember finding this tome in an old dungeon me and my brother had cleared. I should really go and see him someday soon.
My reflection was interrupted by one of my wards being triggered. Who would make the trek up here? Anyone I knew would have sent a magic courier or even my brother would just pop in.
The climb up the mountain was no easy gain. The only road zig zagged up the mountain. Horses would have to be abandoned half way up. Wild beasts would wander the other parts. It was not a pleasant day trip. Only fools, zealots, or imbeciles looking for dragon riches would take the path. I had met them all.
I closed my books understanding that I might not get back to them today. It’s okay I was older than the book so it would be transferred in time. I stood up and pushed in my chair. The room I was in was my den. It was off the library and where I could do reading or transcribing as a humanoid. Well my Drow shape. The den was attached to my library and the rest of the Keep. It was cozy in terms for most visitors of not the dragon size.
I walked through more rooms toward the front of the keep. More of a courtyard than foyer, it was probably 60’ by 60 ‘ by 60’ tall, its wide open area left plenty of room to meet fellow dragons or contain any party that arrived. I had planted a nice garden on one side that the sun hit. Being this high in the mountain I had to keep some fire rocks there to keep it habitable for a few of the plants.
I had a fountain my brother had built for me, along with a few chairs and garden accessories, yet it left plenty of room to be in my altered form, for when the guest or guests wanted to meet the dragon of keep.
The doors were open. They were large, 20’ tall and 10’ across each. I never really closed them much. Never seen the need. Only a handful of people actually knew where I lived and honestly anyone looking to do me harm would be assaulted by wards and spells cast and set to whisk the ill doer back to the bottom of the mountain.
But no defensive spells would go off. The vision in front of me was well known. She stood probably as tall as me in this form. She was a human from a town many many miles away. The well worn armor still fit her well and her sword fit her grip like it was made to be there. She looked beat up and bloodied but none the worse for wear.
She stumbled a bit so I moved toward her with a slight frown, “Mireda why? I thought we discussed this.”
She smiled her cocky smile. I almost felt the old butterflies take flight again, “What? You told me where you lived, so I wanted to visit.”
I frowned as I knew there was more than that, “You could have sent a magic courier.” She grinned and stumbled a bit so I put my arm under her and started moving her toward the inner keep.
“No, I couldn’t do that.” She paused moving with me, “If you would have said no, I am not sure I could handle it.” She shook her head, “And it is Princess Mireda now.” I looked at her and she nodded, “We need to talk and plus,” She smiled, “I had to see this horde of yours.”
I just shook my head taking her inside the main entrance and steering her toward the den. She looked about a bit confused as I sat her in a comfy chair, “Let me get you a healing draught and some food.” She just nodded and I left for the Kitchen. I had some magically preserved food and brought that and a healing drought from my stock.
She looked at me, “Knite, I honestly thought your place would be.” She paused and looked around, “Bigger.”
I smiled as she took the healing and then ate a little, “This is just the front area. I do some reading here and some work. Dragons can’t really write all that good with talons, and well dragon books take up a lot of room.”
I watched the healing elixir rejuvenate her and the food brighten her spirits. I looked at her, “So spill it. Princess?”
She nodded and frowned and looked at me, “12 years ago when you flew me over Stumpbrook I never thought I would meet anyone that excited me as much as you.” I looked at her and she held up a finger preventing me from interrupting.
“I knew I loved you. Hell I knew I was in love before I knew you were a dragon, I was smitten.” She shook her head, “All those old hatreds and bigotry that the people around me taught me, just never materialized when you told me.”
Mireda paused and looked at me, “I know you had to leave and I understand that now. I wish I did back then.”
I frowned looking at her but she shrugged, “I threw myself into my new rank as captain of the guard, and well I got put in charge of Prince Terron’s visit to Stumpbrooke.”
She looked at me and shrugged, “He had that same look as you did. He was almost roguish and well yea, he seemed to like me too.” She frowned, “So I became Princess Mieda.” She paused, “There was a little stir up as his parents wanted him to marry into the Merchant Guild, but honestly we were happy.”
I frowned, “Were?”
She nodded, “2 years ago, things went downhill.” She frowned, “I never could conceive a child. That didn’t win over anyone, but honestly we were still happy.” She shook her head, “And then his brother, whom I swear had this weird jealousy over us, became so bitter.”
She shook her head shrugging, “Ralnar was Terron’s younger brother and they seemed so close when we were married but after the first year of me and Terron’s marriage Ralnar receded into his studies.” She looked at me, “He became a powerful wizard. Learned magic far faster than I thought possible.” She shook her head and started crying, “I heard them yelling one night. Old brotherly feuds and fights as I was always told except this time..” She paused and tears flowed from her face.
She looked at me as the tears flooded her face, “Ralnar killed my husband Terron in cold blood.” She paused and leaned into me, releasing years worth of pent up emotion.
I frowned and looked at her holding her and comforting her, “Let me guess, he blamed you?” She shook her head sobbing and trying to dry her tears on a cloth I had produced for her.
After she calmed down a bit she looked at me, “He didn’t have to blame me, they all turned on me.” She frowned, “I saw it coming, the rumors.” She paused and blew her nose, “The few friends I had made in the court told me they were going to burn me as sacrifice or justice or something.”
She shook her head, “I knew all the servants and with their help, I took my old armor and whatever I could carry in a pack and disappeared.”
I frowned, “Why not contact me then?” She looked at me and paused, she put a hand on my face and smiled, “I thought I could figure this out. I thought I could get back to Stumpbrook and round up my old comrades and just go back to being me.”
I looked at her and she wiped away the last tear, “But as you said the night of your departure, ‘once we make those choices it affects everything’.” She sighed, “It's when I figured out what you said that night as you kissed me goodbye was true not only to you,” She paused and smiled at me, “But it was true to me.”
I frowned and kissed her head and held her close, “I never meant those words for you.” She just nodded and held me close. Her initial journey was done, but now she would be taking another. What was I going to do? I had to contend with my heart and my head. So much time as a dragon and so little of it to deal with humans. | 48 | You’re a powerful dragon on the high reaches of the mountain, one day, a bruised princess with a bloody sword stumbles into your keep, to your surprise, she starts flirting. | 109 |
Looking at my watch, I realize I've been staring at this box for about 40 minutes now.
"I mean, someone has to have looked at it before." I said to no one.
It's been about 2 weeks since I was re-assigned, and I've gone through this entire storage facility. There is only so much you can do when you're job is to patrol a large room in the middle of no-where, that you're pretty sure only like 100 people even know the existence of.
During my walk-abouts, I noticed my fair share of 'common' rare items. Your usual mummies, ancient idols, the usual mystical stuff that people have spent ages praying to, with, or for. But among the other items there was bound to be that one that catches the eye. This particular specimen was a rather unusually large wooden box. It appears to be nailed shut, as well as closed with a lock and chain. The words on the box simply read: "TOP SECRET DO NOT OPEN" While most of the objects contained some variation on that theme, this box drew my eyes to it when I was near, and I could not stop thinking about it when I wasn't. For some reason I had to know what is inside of it.
Glancing down again, I see that I've been standing here another 12 minutes.
"Well, you're not going to open yourself." I inform the box, approaching cautiously.
As I near the box I feel the curiosity growing with every step. Looking closer at the box I can see that the lock is not only sturdy, but also looks very recently replaced. The chain is thick, but nothing special, the box looks like the wooden panels are quite sturdy, braced with steel panels and rivets. Although I'm sure I'm imagining things, it seems to hum with a low intensity vibration I can't quite tell if I hear or feel more. Inspecting the lock up close, I can see that it's a simple enough system, although I never learned to pick locks, I've also never been one to let something get in my way. I grab my heavy flashlight, and holding the clasp I give the lock a couple of good "thwacks."
Upon the first strike I feel like I'm being watched, having stopped myself mid-swing of the third strike I feel the clasp dislodge. I now am sure I'm being watched. Looking around I call out to see if anyone is there. After a few minutes of glancing around I decide it's purely paranoia, and return to opening my treasure.
As I begin to remove the chain, I can feel myself moving more rapidly with every second. My heart is pounding harder and harder as I frantically try to rip the chain off. As I finally rip the last bit away I reach for the lid, completely forgetting about the nails. I scream out in pain as my fingers pry against a lid I thought was ready to lift. Fingernails biting against the wood as my skin peals off at the tips. Reeling from the shock and pain, I look around to see if there is anything at all I might pry this lid up with. Although I hadn't noticed it prior, I see there is a worker's tool kit about 2 aisles over.
I take off running for the toolkit, feeling a sense of loss growing in me the further I remove myself from the box. Getting to the toolkit I rip it upside down, tossing the contents onto the floor in a loud cacophony that rang through my head. Kicking the tools apart I find a pry-bar. Picking up my new weapon I sprinted back to the box. The sense of relief making each step easier than the last. Finally, I'm upon my prize. Grinning, I push the bar under the lid, working away at the corner nearest me. As the nails start to pry up I can smell something, almost a metallic, coppery, musk. A new fervor hits me and I work harder and harder to remove the lid. Finally I have it pried enough to remove the entire thing.
Lifting the lid up, I gaze into the darkness. I grab my flashlight, pointing it into the box I turn it on. At first, all I can see is the bright light shining. As my eyes adjust, I can begin to make out what looks like an old satchel. Although plain in visual appearance, I feel my skin tighten as I stare into it. Reaching out, slowly now, I retrieve the bag. Digging through the satchel I find nothing more than a small pendant and a book. I cannot even begin to guess at the language on the cover, although the trinket is covered in the same script. Opening the pendant reveals what looks like a compass. Needle and backplate, same lettering as the outside and the book, and the needle appears to have a direction of focus, although it is not what I know to be north.
Holding the objects I can feel a comfort fill my body. Without knowing how, I am sure that I have a purpose. Without another thought, I strip my clothes, toss the items in the satchel, and leave the facility. Leaving the doors, the officers outside immediately look confused. As soon as they see the satchel they draw their weapons, demanding I freeze immediately. Looking up at them, I feel the calmest I've ever felt. Sure of my purpose, I close my eyes briefly. When I open them the two men are still standing there, but both of their faces have been burned clean. Charred to the bone. Smiling, I walk off to complete my mission. | 12 | You were just promoted in the Military. Your new position is to manage a secret storage facility in the most rural part of the country. Within this facility is a large wooden box. It contains something ancient & inherently powerful but no one else seems to notice it. You decide to investigate. | 40 |
"Hello...?"
Startled by the low tone of the voice on the walkie, Arnold sat up in bed. He was damp as the night air in Louisiana had turned humid, and he had overdressed for this night’s sleep. Perplexed, he peered through the darkness in his room, to the old roll-top dresser his parents had refinished for him years before. All he could see was the dull red bulb on the front of the walkie, pulsing ever so slightly. The sound being emitted now was nothing but the dull static he used to fall asleep every night.
It had been a few years since Arnold lost his best friend Trey to a car accident. Trey was leaving his house to meet Arnold at the movie theater, and only having his license for a few weeks, he made the fatal mistake of not checking before backing into the street, meeting a driver behind the wheel of a rusty green pickup truck who didn’t have the reflexes to swerve around him or stop. Fortunately, his passing was quick, but the effects of his passing roared through the teenage community of Covington like the waters of a broken dam.
Arnold missed Trey dearly, as they used to share everything. There were no secrets in this ultimate friendship they had. He still took opportunities to talk to his spirit when he was feeling down, and his belief that Trey was always watching over him provided the comfort to get through his day-to-day activities. Routines were good for Arnold, and one such routine that was recommended by his therapist was to continue to turn on that walkie-talkie each night at the same time, so he could let his feelings escape their internal cage. He had secretly hoped that one day Trey would respond, or show him some sign that he was still watching over him, but Arnold was unprepared for this voice to enter his room in the middle of the night.
Arnold swiveled his feet around off the bed and placed them firmly in the brown shag carpet below. He looked around the room again as his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, just to make sure that another of his friends hadn’t been hiding, playing a grotesque trick on him. The only movement that met his eyes was that of the white sheer curtains swaying in front of the window he had cracked to provide some airflow in the stuffy mid-century farmhouse he lived in with his parents. He reassured himself that he must have been dreaming, but just as he’d placed his hand on the bed to lay himself back down to sleep, another low-toned voice came from the area where the walkie-talkie was propped up on his desk. “Arnold…” the voice stated, ominously slow.
His eyes grew to a size much larger than normal, as he was sure he had heard a voice this time. Sitting up straight, he continued the staring contest he’d been having with his walkie-talkie. Trying to determine if he was dreaming, Arnold reached up with his right hand and pinched his neck. He made sure to press hard enough to feel pain so he could know for certain if this was real. "Ouch," he moaned quietly, as the pain shot from his neck down through the middle of his chest. Growing more flummoxed by the minute, he made up his mind. He was going to talk back to whoever had infiltrated his place of peace, to find out why they were antagonizing him. Rising to his feet, Arnold felt as if he was floating across the room, pulled ahead in a semi-automated fashion, scared of how the ethereal voice would respond to him, or if he would respond at all.
He had only made it 3-4 steps when yet another word, a single word, bubbled out of the walkie-talkie. “Welcome…” the voice said, still in the same low tone, but now with what sounded like a smile or a smirk backing it. Arnold grew angrier and angrier as he stood there, trying to think of who he knew that might think it was a good idea to imitate his deceased friend. The only thing he had on his mind now was catching whoever was responsible and forcing them to answer for their sick joke. He took the remaining few steps, now standing firmly in front of the dresser as he paused, and decided that he was committed to responding. Arnold reached down to press the button on the walkie, wrapping his large left hand around the back as he pressed in firmly with his thumb. Something even stranger was going on with the walkie though. As he pressed, the tactile click of the button he’d come to know was missing, and as his hand sat there tingling, he chalked this up to him likely sleeping on it in bed. Arnold, not wanting to let the perpetrator off the hook, decided to speak anyways. “Who is this, and why are you messing with me?” he exclaimed. As he waited for a response, nothing happened. Had he spooked this teenage menace, forcing them to flee rather than get caught imitating his dead friend? Was his voice even making it through since he couldn't be certain the button was depressed?
Arnold couldn’t be sure, but he stood there, waiting. He waited for what felt like an eternity before being startled by the same voice, this time coming from a completely different direction, directly behind him. “Welcome, Arnold…” He spun around violently to see something he couldn’t have possibly been prepared for. The ghost of his friend Trey was standing there in his bedroom, staring at him with the same caring smile he’d frequently adorned. “Trey, what in the hell, what is happening?” A flood of emotions came over him. He wondered if he’d hit his head, or if this all was a wild dream. Had he gone crazy from the one-sided conversations he’d been hosting with his walkie-talkie? Was this all just part of someone else’s sick sense of humor, playing a trick on him? Trey looked around the room and then set his sight squarely back on Arnold before he uttered what would come to be the most important words yet. “Arnold, I don’t know how to tell you this in a way that won’t upset you, but you’ve had a heart attack in your sleep, and have now joined me in the world we call the “other side”… Welcome Arnold, I’m so glad to see you again.“ | 11 | In high school, you and a friend decided to get walkie-talkies. Living miles apart, you’d talk daily using the walkies. Years later your friend passed away, but you still turn on the walkie every night out of habit. One night, you hear static on your walkie, followed by a quiet “Hello…?” | 26 |
The tophat. The shawl. The peculiar ring. But most of all, it was the hourglass. Who else, in this world eaten through and through by the Living sands... would put it in an hourglass and hang it by their waist?
That's how you know she was a Sandwalker. The only kind of person alive who could walk the deserts and not be devoured alive. The last champion of communication between the Bastions, carrying supplies, missives, letters, bones, people, and anything else that would be a prized commodity in today's world. Surrounded by mystery, they were. Tall tales of creatures of Sand they fought off on their travels, the risks they braved, the horrors they'd seen... but who's to say the tales were tall? Not like anyone else could really see what's out there.
I warned him, you know. You don't threaten a Sandwalker. You bargain, plead, ask, convince, but never *threaten*. They've fought things bigger, badder, stronger than you; what makes you think you even stand a chance of getting to them? He didn't listen. He walked straight into that room with a bad attitude and, as I noticed far too late... a knife.
I felt bad for not stopping him. But... every noun and then, someone's got to be an example.
The Sandwalker walked out of her room shortly, politely paid for her tab and left to roam the deserts again.
And if you paid close enough attention, you could see her hourglass had one more grain of sand in it. | 125 | A nano-machine accident turned the world to deadly sand, leaving behind scattered enclaves protected by force fields. As a Sandwalker you have psychic control over the sand, allowing you to travel the desert delivering people and cargo while protecting them from the horrors spawned by the sand | 650 |
Shard philosophy wasn't officially accepted by the majority of the population prior to the work of Seldon around 2084. It was only spoken about loosely as an unexplainable social phenomena. People would often talk of their soulmates, or they would recount stories of finding individuals with whom they shared a special; inexplicable, affinity.
This became the official term for the relationship between shard-holders of shared souls. Individuals who found each other were seldom linked by physical location, culture or language, but all genuine Affinates (for there were many false positives in the early days) shared a simple irrefutable fact of life. Each were born synchronously.
Until the early 2100's this was all well and good. Individuals were finding their fellow Affinates, and settling into relationships; some romantic, others platonic or psuedo-familial. Towards the start of the 23rd century however, things began to spiral out of control. Affinate groups began to cluster upwards from the usual maximum of 3-4 members, right up to sizes of 100 members or more.
Such groups were problematic at first simply for logistical reasons, for how could groups of hundreds of individuals (especially individuals to whom affinity held greater significance to social contract) function in a society of billions without disrupting the greater social fabric?
Decades passes, and people realized that their affinity was beginning to wane. Panic ensued. Groups found that as numbers of participants in any affinity grew, the individual connections between participants degraded in intensity. Seldon's research was instrumental in the discovery that shards were not some mystical social phenomena, nor were they strictly a fluke of cosmic coincidences based purely on birth timing.
Shards were a meta-material transfer of soul between a dying individual and whichever individuals were being born at that exact moment.
At some point in the late 21st century, Seldon theorised, the splitting of souls had began. It was slow at first, then proceeded more quickly, as fewer and fewer departing souls were distributed amongst greater and greater numbers of new-borns.
The problem is as apparent here as it was to individuals at the time. Their response shocks us even now. Affinities became insular and cult-like. General societal function as in the late 20th and early 21st centuries ceased, and a tribal lifestyle took over.
An affinity in these times sought to do only two things. Firstly and understandably; find and reconsolidate with their fellow shard-bearers. The second was rather more dramatic: ritual sacrifice. In order to ensure the survival and consolidation of their shards, affinate groups would accompany each new birth in their group with a series of ritual sacrifices. No less than 3 individuals would be sacrificed at the moment of birth of a new child, to ensure that the shards would remain with the group. These sacrifices were often the oldest members of any particular group, or individuals with the weakest affinity (who were the lowest class of tribal society).
According to surviving records, this practice died out late in the 26th century as populations shrank and shards consolidated. Archaeological records of some of the last sacrifices exist in storage at the National museum as part of their exhibit on the Affinite Schism.
The Bureau of Well-being would like to remind citizens that failure to report suspected affinite behaviour is a class-3 offence, punishable by up to 25 years imprisonment. | 22 | Reincarnation is real and years after humanity's population surpasses 10 billion, people realize souls are split in order to provide a soul to every additional person born. They also realize people with a split soul have supernatural connections with others that are part of the same soul. | 147 |
"Ugh, What did you put in this?" A voice in the corner of the bar slurred out.
That was the first sign I fucked up.
"You seeing this, Jeremy?" Said another voice next to me.
That was the second sign.
The third sign was that corner of the bar slowly lifting into a faint violet glow. That was the first thing that hit me.
"Ben. Go." My eyes didn't leave the corner. "Get everyone out."
"What- What? Why?"
"Go."
Ben sighed, his hair swooping into an unsatisfied curl as he snatched an open wine bottle, took a sip, and clambered over the bar, shouting to everyone that we were unfortunately closed immediately, and left me alone behind the bar.
I gritted my teeth. I knew it was only a matter of time, but now? Really? Right now? With bags under my eyes and legs so tired I was honestly not sure I had bones still? This was when the universe decided to crash and burn. Because *of course* it was.
The thing over there was still stirring. I looked around at the glasses and bottles clinging to every shelf, stubbornly searching for anything out of place, but there was nothing - it was all frighteningly normal, in fact. Nothing remotely magical to speak of.
What the hell?
I didn't have time to ponder it. I could already see that faint glow becoming a not-so-faint shine. With a scratchy sigh I dug my hand into my bag, pulled out an unmarked flask filled with a pulsing orange liquid, and hopped over the bar towards the corner.
The ground was fuzzy as I approached, like the floorboards were losing their shape and blurring into each other. There seemed to be a mist in the air all of a sudden, broken only by that purple light. My steps were careful, if a little heavy, but whatever creature I'd made was still dormant. I gripped the unknown flask, closely eyeing the bubbly shape in the fog. It was hard to make out since it appeared to be mostly slumped over the table, but it wasn't any bigger than your average person, and it didn't seem to have any extra limbs. That ruled out any demonic healing potions. The light seemed to be coming directly from the head, like one of its eyes were glowing. That meant it couldn't be any sort of weaponised spell. The last thing I saw was that its head was up, right up, even while the rest of its body was slumped down. And that meant it was awake. But it wasn't moving, the torch-like light was just idly scanning the room, then me, then the orange potion in my hands.
And that seemed to scare it.
Shit.
Its hands lurched forwards and gripped the edge of the table, fully outstretched as it launched itself over at me. I lunged to the side and rolled into a chair. It clattered to the floor before being swiftly whisked back up again as I snatched it from the ground, just in time to block a heavy swing from the creature. Its fist shattered the metal chair, spewing debris out into the room. I leant over for the flask on the ground beside me.
And something heavy hit my head. All I heard was a splintery crash as the flask broke under my head, shards of glass embedding themselves in my skin. I screamed. The noise started the creature, giving me just enough time to get back on my feet and hold a weary hand out over the spilt potion, pain searing through the right side of my head, even through the adrenaline.
I snapped up a quick breath, and tensed my hand.
The liquid under me shone red and yellow and it picked itself up into a ball under my palm. I whipped around and jerked my arm forwards. A beam of energy coursed out from the ball, slamming into the creature's shoulder and instantly erupting into a bonfire, no doubt from the alcohol dribbled down this guy's shirt the whole night. I took a step back to collect myself. Fire. I could work with fire.
Apparently so could the creature. Its charred shoulder twisted and contorted from the heat, rotting skin rushing away from the burn, leaving an exposed shoulder bone. The thing only faintly groaned. I stepped forward again, this time aiming for the head. Another beam of orange energy lit up the room and rippled through the creature's jaw. Yet again there was barely any reaction, just a tiny rattle as it's voice box burned up. It's glowing eyes stared me down. That turned out to be a mistake - it just gave me ideas.
I twisted the ball of energy up with my right hand and grabbed it with my left, holding it between my arms. The light was almost blinding, every surface shone with orange. But I only had to endure it for a second. I planted my foot into the ground in front of me, and threw both my arms forward and apart. The ball split in two, and two equal streams of energy burst forward and hit the creature in it's glowing eyes.
It wasn't happy about that. The second it processed what was happening to it, it was too late, cracks ran through its skin and its entire form started glowing with purple and orange light, pulsing, like a sickened magical heartbeat. It was rotting, decaying before my very eyes, leaving nothing but a mound of flesh under my feet.
I breathed in heavily. This wasn't good. I didn't do a good thing. All I had to reassure my exhausted self as I ambled to the nearest chair and sat down, staring very much away from the body, was that whatever this thing was, it was definitely demonic, and that meant good luck trying to reverse it in a human. Still, that was a guy. That was a person, just trying to enjoy a night out. And now it didn't even look like a person.
I glanced back at the mangled corpse.
But there was nothing there.
There was only a shapeless blob barrelling down the street outside.
All of a sudden I didn't feel so bad.
\><
r/Tiz_Purple | 12 | You’re one of the greatest alchemists in the world, able to mix any potion with ease. But you also have a part time job as a bartender and sometimes you get your two roles confused. | 64 |
The arrival of the segmented, bug-like aliens - like ants, or perhaps bees, except more anthropomorphic - had been largely unwelcome. The announcement of their arrival had been equally surprising and unwelcome. Said announcement was done via broadcast across every screen on the planet, and one could only suppose that was true for those beneath the waves as well.
It had been nothing short of a whirlwind, finding out mermaid-like creatures called posidni were actually real and existed not only on Earth but Neptune as well... but then there was this whole other group of aliens that now ruled over all of the land of the planet.
"Please remain calm and prepare for our arrival accordingly," the transmission had said.
Calm.
Yeah, right.
The planet had descended into chaos. People going to the ocean in droves, disappearing in the sea to never be seen or heard from again. Stores with food bought out. People preaching that these aliens that were coming were messengers of God, messengers of Satan, the beginning of the end. The stock market crashed, humanity entered a global depression, crime spiked...
... Hayden had to imagine the look on the the uwan matriarch's face when she received that report. "Yes, the planet you've been given control over is in a state of utter bedlam." He himself was a young man, eighteen years of age, and new graduate of Shoreport High, the only high school in this Gods-forsaken town. As it turned out, the mayor had also gone missing not long after the announcement and now everyone was scared to take the job. What if, as mayor, you had to directly respond to one of these Bugs?
Still, he had to consider the good that was already happening with their arrival. In New York City, the Bugs had put up natural and artificial barriers along the water fronts to slow beach erosion and combat hurricanes and floods. He wondered when New Jersey would get similar treatment, or if it would. The world was a big place by his estimation.
Nobody was hiring, was Hayden's major gripe. His parents wanted him to skip college until the influence of the Bugs had been more solidified, but they didn't want him to chill at home with video games all day either. Walking down the street, he saw a flyer posted on a telephone pole that caught his eye...
>**LOOKING FOR HELP**
>
>*In need of human specimens for examination. It's non-invasive and helps humanity!*
>
>\[\[ QR CODE \]\]
>
>*Pay: $1,500/week*
>
>*Term: No less than 2 years*
Hayden stared for a long time at the advertisement and reluctantly took out his phone. | 24 | Aliens have enslaved humanity. Instead of treating them horribly, the aliens brought peace to Earth; but humans are incompatible with peace, and many view the enslavement as an attack on free will; people wonder what the aliens REALLY want. There are a few who love the aliens for their order. | 105 |
"I'm sorry, Mister Becker," said the nervous secretary. "The chairman isn't here right now."
I narrowed my eyes. "I can literally hear his heartbeat."
The secretary grew tense.
"Just let me in," I said. "Spare yourself the embarrassment."
"I-I don't know what you mean. And even if he *were* here, he'd be too busy for an impromptu meeting. Care to make an appointment?"
"I've made three already, and all have been postponed." I smiled. "I'm beginning to think he has something to hide."
The secretary glanced at a phone on the desk.
"Go ahead," I said, moving towards the reinforced door. "Call security. I'll just let myself in."
"Wait!"
I tore the door off its hinges.
The secretary screamed for help.
I strolled down the hall without a care in the world.
A thick metal wall then fell from the ceiling, preventing me from moving ahead.
I sighed.
The people who bothered installing these defenses were usually dealing with unsavory folk. The type of businessman that often made shady deals with supervillains in order to manipulate the stock market or suppress their competition, then screwed them over when their usefulness ended. This wasn't damning evidence, nor was it in my jurisdiction, but it sure didn't look good.
I punched through the sheet of metal, only to find several more sealing the hallway, forcing me to get a running start and tackle through them all in one fell swoop.
That wasn't the end of it, though. A force field emerged right at the boundary of the office, and I couldn't break it with sheer strength.
The grinning chairman taunted me behind it. He thought he was safe. Unfortunately for him, this wasn't my first time dealing with a forcefield.
I simply used my laser vision in order to overload its power generator.
The chairman widened his eyes before the room exploded.
I then blew away the smoke and gingerly stepped into the office, saying:
"Mister Locke, I'm glad we can finally meet."
"W-what are you?"
"Just a humble accountant."
"Bullshit! The villain's league sent you, didn't they?"
I shook my head.
"The hero association?"
I rolled my eyes. "No, it's like I told your secretary, I'm with the IRS."
Chairman Locke grew pale. For some reason, he seemed even more terrified now.
"For a few years now," I said, "there's been some discrepancies with your books. I'm afraid your company is due for an audit."
"Oh god..." wept the chairman, on the verge of tears. "Please, have mercy."
"That's not something we do at the IRS. May I have a seat?"
Chairman Locke hesitated for a second, then nodded softly.
"I don't usually perform these corporate audits," I said, sitting on a plush leather chair, "but five of my predecessors have all suffered from mysterious deaths, often caught in the crossfire of a supervillain attack after meeting you, so the office had no choice but to send me."
"I have no idea what you're talking about..."
"That's fine. I'm sure you had nothing to do with it. I'm only here for the numbers."
The chairman swallowed down his anxiety. "This is ridiculous..."
"Not as much as you'd think," I said. "My main job is to find metahumans that aren't paying their fair share. *Somebody* needs to catch them, right?"
"So you... fight these villains?"
I chuckled. "Villains? Sure, sometimes, but heroes are just as likely to avoid taxes. The common thread is that they all think they're above society, yet have no problem benefiting from it. My job is to fight that sense of entitlement."
"But... you're so strong... How much are you making a year? A hundred grand? Two? I could easily triple that!"
I arched an eyebrow. "Is this a bribe?"
"N-no! More like a... job offer. Clearly, these discrepancies are a mistake and I need better accountants. You look like the perfect person for the job."
I grew serious. "You seem to be confused here, so let me spell it out for you. All my life, both the superhero association *and* the villain's league have been trying to recruit me. If I wanted money, I'd join up with either of them. The reason I don't, however, is because I can see through the bullshit. Punching people in costumes doesn't fix roads, nor fund schools. It does the opposite. I'm here to make sure the average person doesn't suffer because of those who cheat the system. Understood?"
Chairman Locke scowled. "Perfectly." He then pressed a button under his desk, opening a trap door underneath me.
My chair fell into a pit of acid at the bottom, but I remained unscathed, floating in the air.
Chairman Locke gaped his mouth.
"Anything else?"
Chairman Locke pulled out a ray-gun. "Die!"
I shrugged off the laser beam. "You're only making things worse for yourself."
Chairman Locke seemed utterly defeated. He turned the weapon against his head, hoping to kill himself, but I crushed it before he could pull the trigger.
"Why?!?" begged the chairman. "Just let me die!"
"You're free to do so *after* the audit."
A wave of security guards rushed into the room.
I looked at Chairman Locke. "Do you seriously want me to wipe the floor with them?"
"No..." Chairman Locked slumped his head. "Stand down. It's just... an accountant."
The guards all shared confused looks.
I smiled. "Great! Can you take me to your accounting department?"
The chairman welled with tears, walking ahead. "Right this way..."
---------
>If you enjoyed this, check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | 1,232 | the IRS. | 2,869 |
The walls were typically a nice eggshell white, with tasteful decorations depicting sunflowers and chickens artfully placed around the living room. Today, however, the eggshell white was obscured behind a waterfall of boiling blood.
"Lou, that better not stain the walls." I called out, bored.
The flow of bodily fluids slowed, then stopped. I heard a grotesque slurping sound as it retreated back into the drywall, revealing a light pinkish hue on the previously white wall.
>"Whoopsie Daisies"
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, but mostly from the now stained section of my wall.
"Gonna pay for that?" I asked, as I mindlessly scrolled through Reddit. I had run out of new threads to read around half an hour ago, but I kept checking for anything new.
>"I'll summon a painter"
The voice was apologetic, but still carried that unique warbling quality.
"Just make sure you don't hurt this one. Remember the plumber you possessed after the bathtub incident?" I said, not looking away from my screen.
>"How was I supposed to know he was allergic to arsenic?"
I put my phone down, sighing. "Lou, you're an omnipotent Erdrich horror from beyond the veil of time and space."
>"Indeed".
"So you should have known that already!" I said, exasperated.
>"There are degrees of omnipotency, human"
I pinched the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes and shaking my head. "Whatever, Lou. Just get that fixed and don't kill anyone in the process."
>"As you wish, mortal"
The voice ceased. I waited a few seconds to make sure it was done speaking, then returned my attention to the phone. A glob of unidentifiable mush landed on the screen, concealing he witty and clever replies I was attempting to read.
"LOU!" I shouted, leaping up from my couch and backing away from the mass. "Get that out!"
I glanced up to the ceiling, and leapt back in surprise. "Is that a person glued to the ceiling?"
>"Oh, yes. That was my lunch, I'm saving the rest for dinner."
"Lou, the lease agreement we signed *clearly* said that any guests staying for longer than 24 hours need to be approved first."
>"I'm going to consume the human in a few hours, a day tops."
I couldn't take this anymore. "Once the lease is up in October, I'm kicking you out. Just... could you stop with all of this until then?"
>"Was it something I said?"
I sighed, sitting down on the couch seat that didn't have a person trapped in endless agony overhead in a gelatinous cocoon of Erdrich bile. "No, it's the mess you're always making. The blood wall, this ceiling goo, the constant murders and consumption of innocents, leaving the fridge open, its just a lot to clean up after you.
>"I can work on that. Could I stay if I paid more in rent?"
"Actually, I was meaning to talk to you about that too." I took a deep breath, grimacing at the foul smell the weeping victim glued to the ceiling was emitting. "Those glowing gold coins you leave as payment keep coming to life and biting the landlord. Could you pay in dollars? Or PayPal?"
>"I have no means of payment beyond the coins.
"Well... I'll see what I can do." I sighed yet again, resting my head on the top portion of the couch. "Just please stop making a mess, ok?"
>"I will attempt to adhere to your request."
We both sat in silence, only disturbed by the occasional muffled scream from the leftovers.
>"Do you want to watch a movie?"
"Sure. How about 'The Exorcist?" I recommended .
>"That's pretty insensitive, Steve"
"So are you, Lou." I said. "I'll go make popcorn, you pick the movie. Ok?"
>"Deal"
The wall beside me began to swell, then ooze a sickly red material. The goo formed into lines and shapes, congealing into a paragraph of harsh demonic text.
"Damnit Lou, quit trying to make me sign deals!" I shouted. "That's it, I'm not renewing your lease. Start looking for a new place, and CLEAN MY BLOODY WALLS!"
/r/SlightlyColdStories for more | 38 | Your house is haunted by some kind of demonic Eldritch abomination from a different relm and frankly you don’t care, you have more important things to worry about so you just tell the abomination that if they want to stay here they better start paying rent | 96 |
The castaway had obviously never read a survival guide, and instead of building a shelter and finding sources of food and drink other than the plentiful coconuts, he kept meandering about the island, picking up and throwing rocks and shells, tearing leaves off the plentiful plants, and getting sunburnt. As days went by, his muttering became more audible, as if he was trying to fill the void left by the lack of human interaction.
“Sea star”, he muttered, staring at the water, “sea spo… wait… IS THAT A SQUIRREL UNDERWATER?! CUT, CUT, CUT, GET ME OUT OF HERE IMMEDIATELY!” he screamed.
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Not even half out of his Absolute//Immersion™ suit, and trailing a bunch of scientists feverishly working to disconnect him from a mess of tubes and cables, he stormed onto the main development floor. The place was crammed, with two and three people sitting at desks littered with empty bottles of energy drinks and discarded fast food boxes. Nobody looked up.
“WHO IS THE COMPLETE AND UTTER MORON WHO WROTE SQUIRRELS INTO THE SIMULATION?! HAVE YOU NOT UNDERSTOOD YET THAT WE ARE DAYS AWAY FROM LAUNCH? DAYS!! THIS IS NO TIME TO PLAY STUPID JOKES. IT NEVER IS A TIME TO PLAY STUPID JOKES. I WILL FIRE EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU THE DAY AFTER WE RELEASE AND REPLACE YOU WITH MONKEYS. YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING NERDS!! I WILL SHOW YOU.. WHAT?!”
“Sir”, said a woman in impeccable business attire, “the rehearsal for the press conference starts in 15 minutes. Would you like to follow me, or should I postpone it for another few minutes?”
“I NEED NO FREAKING REHEARSAL, AND I DON’T CARE WHAT THE LAWYERS CLAIM I CAN OR CANNOT SAY. I OWN THIS COMPANY. I AM THE COMPANY. AND THESE MISERABLE SCUM ARE RUINING EVERYTHING WITH THEIR CHILDISH BEHAVIOR AND THEIR INCOMPETENCE. AND IT STINKS IN HERE, DON’T YOU KNOW HOW TO SHOWER, NERDS?! WHAT IS THIS YOU SAY?! OF COURSE I TOLD YOU NOBODY LEAVES THIS BUILDING UNTIL WE’RE DONE, OTHERWISE NOTHING WOULD GET DONE HERE!!”
He took a deep breath, and some of the purple color in his face started to fade.
“You have one hour before I go back in to test again. AND IT BETTER BE PERFECT THIS TIME, YOU INCOMPENTENT SCHMUCKS!! I WILL MAKE ABSOLUTE//REALITY™ A SUCCESS AND IF I NEED TO WORK EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU TO DEATH I WILL GLADLY DO IT!!”
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The development floor was almost empty, except for a small group of people sitting in front of a large wall monitor.
“Shouldn’t we tell him?”
“Tell him what? That he has had a stroke, is paralyzed, and has memory issues? We’ve been over this…”
“Actually”, interrupted a woman in impeccable business attire, “It’s official. The family agreed it is more humane to keep him under.”
“But shouldn’t we…”
“Yes, we will eventually move the timeline forward to the successful launch of Absolute//Reality™. In the meantime, let’s keep him in purgatory for a little while longer. What are we going to do this time?”
“Cake! But not everything. Just… just the crabs.”
“Crabs out of cake? Everyone on board with that? Ok, let’s get cracking.” | 42 | You wake up on a deserted island. For the past few days, you've lived off of eating coconuts. The lack of social interaction starts to make you hallucinate and hear voices. You look down on the shore and at a distance, you see a sea star, a sea spo… wait… is that a squirrel underwater?! | 200 |
"Think of it like this," the bearded man leaned forward with his hands in a tense fold, "deer eat everything: plants, trees, grass, everything. When the flora are decimated, bugs, rodents, lizards, and other creatures are left without a habitat. Birds don't roost where there's no food. Birds' droppings often contain seeds. Many of those seeds become flowers, which bees rely on. The bees pollinate these flowers, creating more flowers, more pollinators, more bugs, more rodents, a greater biosphere."
He leaned back. "Deer aren't *bad*, of course. They have no moral direction. They do what all creatures seek to do: make more offspring. It's just, when deer have no predators, they destroy their environments. Even deer suffer in this system: they rely on rich ecosystems to supply food and water. When they've eaten all of it, their offspring starve, become feral, aggressive. That's no way to live."
The crowd in the university auditorium was quiet.
"Think of us like deer. We have plundered the planet, driven many species to extinction, acidified the oceans, burned the rainforest, and filled the atmosphere with carbon dioxide. Hell, in each of our bloodstreams runs plastic, which has been shown to accelerate cancers."
An isolated cough from the dark seats broke the silence. Students bent forward, many with phones aimed at the speaker, others feverishly writing down his words on a notepad.
"When we introduce wolves into areas with deer overpopulation, do you know what happens? The wolves eat many deer. They eat *well.* The deer retreat from areas with light brush so they can hide better. The grass grows. The trees return. Rodents and bugs move in, birds return, flowers buzz, bees come back. The deer that remain live better lives.
"So, although the remaining deer might live in fear of the wolves they share a forest with, they spend the time they are alive in abundance: their environments are clean, plentiful. It's a symbiotic system.
"We are the deer and the Earth is the forest. What's arrived three months ago? Wolves."
Students shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
"Now, I know that sounds heartless. I know you have a lot of questions about this line of reasoning. But I would urge you to think optimistically about this. The new presence that emerged has gone after human beings exclusively. They've shown no interest in aquatic life, land animals, or vegetation. They have flocked to population centers: New York, Los Angeles, Shanghai, Mumbai, Tokyo, Istanbul. The videos taken of these events have been...upsetting, to say the least.
"But in three short months, look what's happened. The Earth has begun healing. Fewer cars are driving on roads, adding less emissions to the atmosphere. Plastic is no longer being produced, no longer being added to our bloodstream. We are relying more on one another and less on globalized systems which have alienated us. How many of you have planted food for the very first time?"
Hands rose in the auditorium.
"How about woodworking? How many of you have boarded up windows and doors? How many of you have coped without internet? How many of you have sat around a fire actually talking with one another?"
He could sense the split in the room. There was anger, tiredness, anxiety. But, at least somewhat, there was inspiration. Disaster does a strange thing to human cohesiveness.
"The challenge for humanity, after we've expelled our invaders, is to rebuild in a way that does not invite a higher lifeform into an unbalanced system. We'll need to *choose* sacrifice. We'll need to, in some circumstances, decide against our own pleasures and indulgences to preserve our Earth."
Later, microphones were placed in the aisles and students were allowed to ask the professor questions. The first up was a young man with curly, unkept hair.
"May family was in New York three months ago," he began. The professor smiled back sympathetically. "Fuck you!" The boy shouted. He produced a pistol from his pocket and shot the professor dead.
There was a screaming in the auditorium before a quiet. Slowly, applause rose.
"No traitors! No traitors!" The chant filled the space.
The invaders noticed. | 121 | When a prey animal goes unchecked they suck the resources of the surrounding area dry. It never occurred to us that, with 7 billion plus, that we weren't the top of the food chain.... until now. | 256 |
"Look, I'm a villain ok? I sit inside my lair of darkness from where I scheme my diabolical plots, how am I a good guy?" Lyroth asked.
"Well my lord," Cuddleheart replied. "Perhaps people have that idea of you because your lair of darkness is actually really well lit and also bright pink."
"It's not pink! It's fuscia, why is by-far the evilest of colours. Also you know I have night-blindness so the lighting is nothing less than a necessity!"
"Well, yes but you might see why people talk..."
"Is the state of my lair really the only defining thing about me? What about my army of blight? What about my dark machinations? What of my *schemes*?"
"Well sire," Cuddleheart nervously said. "It seems that using us inhabitants of the Smooch Dimension as your minions also did not do much to lend credence to your evil-ness amongst the common folk."
"Nonsense!" Lyroth exclaimed. "Surely the common folk are not so daft to miss the fact that my choice of minions is an ironic statement. Is such subtlety truly beyond them?"
"It seems so, highness. And as for your plans, well..."
"What about my plans?"
"They kind of have a way of doing more good than evil?"
"How is such a thing possible? My machinations are perfect, how could they cause anything but misery upon the common masses?"
"Well, there was the time where you send us to clean up all the streets of the nearby town."
"Yes, which only illustrated how dirty everyone's house was by contrast! It was one of my most diabolical schemes."
"And there was the time where you had us bring food to the poor."
"Which served to remind them of what they were missing! That taste of luxury is haunting them evermore now!"
"You also had us save the princess from the dragon."
"Ah well, that was because... um."
"Was it not to return the princess to her parents my lord?"
"No it was some kind of statement I think, the meaning of which escapes me now."
"Well what about the time-"
"Yes yes alright!" Lyroth interrupted. "I get the message."
Lyroth let out a deep sigh. "Fuck's sake I actually am a good guy aren't I?"
"I would venture so, my liege." Cuddleheart replied.
"Fuck's sake." Lyroth cursed again.
"It's not all bad my lord, have you tried embracing the power of friendship yet?" Cuddleheart asked.
Lyroth let out an even deeper sigh. "I suppose at this point I might as well." | 223 | Why is no-one cowering in fear before me? Why are my minions always talking about the power of friendship? Why am I being awarded a medal of honour? Oh no... am... am I a good guy? | 559 |
That was the thing, you know? With the whole ‘a fantastic magical world has been right underneath my nose’ business thrown your way, you tend to forget about the, well, real world. With its real-world consequences. Sure, technically I saved a lot of people and technically it had been self-defence but if nobody can see the ‘deadly glowing blood red crystal of doom’ then technically, technically, I had just murdered a man in cold blood. And murder, much to my great distress right now, was still illegal.
I winced at the memory of me yelling in outrage at the policeman trying to arrest me, completely missing the point of ‘he can’t see the magically glowing orb of doom’, while I was still covered in blood. Not my own. Luckily for me. And the four other peoplethe guy had held in his underground basement/alchemistic laboratory/middle age dungeon. Or me yelling at the cop in the car that had started to interrogate me(had that even been legal?).
"I’m not criminally insane! I'm telling you what I saw! That man was using a blood crystal to kill people! I *had* to kill him! You gotta believe me!"
Not my most convincingargument, I had to admit that. Especially since to most of the world the ‘secret underground alchemistic laboratory dungeon’ pretty much just looked like Mr. Blood-Alchemist had cooked up some drugs in his basement.
In my defence, there *had* been drugs involved.
Specifically, the drugs used to kidnap me, and the shock of ‘ohnonono I killed another human being’ followed by the very much startling realization of ‘hm, I’m not as disgusted as I thought I would be’ and the ‘oh no did I get used to dead bodies’ existential crisis I had at the same time. My conclusion had been that it all was in one orm or the other, Sam’s fault and that I shouldn’t have to deal with it.
Sadly for me,none of that convinced any of the law-enforcers that had taken me in, and now I was on my way to psychiatric prison. Or whatever it was called to where they took me. It had bars and I was labelled insane, something along those lines had to fit. The only insane people I normally dealt with were customers arguingwith me about discounts, I wasn’t an expert.
The reallybad thing though, were three tiny, kind of significant, details:
1. I am verymuch human and also very much a civilian
2. Sam, the not-humanand not-civilian person between us that normally dealt with sociopathic magicalkillers and other blood-thirsty monsters and who had the skills to do so, wason the other end of the planet dealing with her family
3. The guy I hadkilled had a student. One I didn’t kill.
To put itsimple, I was worried, and I felt I had every right to be. I leaned my head back and it meet the wall of the cell I was in with a dull thud, the noise ofthe motor vibrating trough my feet and my head now.
“This is worse than the time I found Sam stand over a dead body in my kitchen.” I squinted at the camera pointing at me and the cold lights illuminating my little cell. “Actually,no. That was worse. This time I at least didn’t have to get rid of blood in thecarpet.”
If I wanted to pinpoint where my life had taken this drastic and unhelpful turn for the truly weird, it probably had been the evening I found my roommate and best friend since our school days stand over a dead body in our kitchen with a bloody knife in her hand. Her atrocious attempts at explaining herself –
(‘I thought youwere with your family! You weren’t supposed to be back yet. I would’ve cleaned up!’
‘Me not beinghere is an excuse to murder people??’
‘No! I mean,technically, yeah, I do my work when you aren’t here, but I don’t murder *people*.’
‘There’s acorpse in our kitchen.’
‘Ehhh, that was an accident.’
‘You murdered someone on accident??’
‘No! Excuseme I’m a professional! Killing it in the kitchen had been the accident.’)
– had ended in her opening my eyes to the magical world. As it turned out the guy that had bleed out on our carpet hadn’t been human and had been very much in the category of ‘blood-thirsty monster’.
I hadn’t been as surprised as I should’ve been about the revelation of Sam not being human. It had just made so much sense. Explained half of the weird things she did. The rest, I learned in the following weeks, was just her personality.
See, the thing is, I don’t have any superpowers. I’m human. I break easily, I get easily scared and I apparently get kidnapped by serial killer alchemists that want to kill me with a glowing red crystal of doom. The only thing I have going for me is being able to see that ‘red glowing crystal of doom’ as it is. Sam was the one that knew how to pull the wool over other people’s eyes so she could escape the law. Sam was the one who knew how to actually kill crazy alchemists with delusions of grandeur. I just had a talent to be at the wrong place at thewrong time.
But since Samwas at the other end of the world and potentially not even in our dimension, if I understood the thing about her family correctly, I was on my own. On the way to prison. Psycho prison because people thought I killed a man for the voices in my head.
If I wouldlisten to the voices in my head, I wouldn’t be in that situation. Because my voices mostly were screaming at me to not do whatever stupid thing I was currently doing. I should probably listen to them more.
Just as I wascontemplating on how to best explain to my parents that I wouldn’t be able to make it home for grannies birthday because I was stuck in prison, the whole car shook. As in ‘something heavy just rammed us’-shook. I lost my footing and landed on the floor, hands flailing in a poor and useless attempt to not falldown. I didn’t get the time to wonder ‘what is happening’ before the whole car turned to the side and I could hear screams and yelled commands from outside.
Startled and decently panicking I looked up as the wall – remember, prison transport, cell, steel – was ripped open. Like it was paper.
You rememberthe part about how there was this student of the serial killer that I killed becausehe tried to kill me that I didn’t kill? Yeah. About that.
Said student had just glanced inside through the hole ripped into the side of the car. I now could see the sky above while the edge of the door of my cell poked uncomfortably in my back. If I would believe in any god that would be an excellent point in timeto pray to them. Since I didn’t, I heaved myself up with no small amount of ‘Is This How I Die’-dread that curled in my stomach. | 11 | "I'M NOT CRIMINALLY INSANE! I'm telling you what I saw! That man was using a blood crystal to kill people! I *HAD* to kill him! YOU GOTTA BELIEVE ME!" expectedly, the verdict passed and you were taken to the psychiatric prison. Worse still, the man had a student, who you weren't able to kill. | 76 |
There are days when I sit and stare at the wall. It was a good enough time killer. There was no need for bells and whistles when all I wanted was for the day to end, and I grow weary enough to go back to sleep.
It was the only time when I felt like I knew death.
I’ve seen my fair share of it, loved ones bearing the brunt. But it always passed me by, with nary a wave or acknowledgement of my existence. Life clung on, refusing to let me go.
The day was like any other. The sun shone overhead, tirelessly beating down on the land with its rays. The clouds moved lazily, enjoying all the time in the world.
Then, there was a rare sound. The sound of several footsteps clattering up the path. An adventuring party came up the slope and found myself staring at them.
There were four. Two men, two women. One of each was in metal armour that looked unbearable to be in under the hot sun. The other man wore a green hood, his hands constantly hovering around his belt. The other woman wore dark brown robes that stretched all the way down to her feet, the hem sweeping the floor with each movement she made. They leaned towards each other, and began whispering, jabbing, and gesturing in my general direction.
I stayed silent. They might think me an oddity and pass by. That dream was quickly shattered when the armoured woman walked up to me. She held a long mace that she hefted towards the other warrior, then took a few steps forward.
“Hoy,” she said. “Are you the old man who lives alone?”
I looked down at my hand. It was visually the same as it was centuries ago.
“No,” I said.
“Strange,” she said, and squinted at me. “This should be the house. And yet, a lively young man sits before me.”
His words were met with a cold stare and no other acknowledgement of her words.
She chuckled, and walked right in front of me. She held out a gauntleted hand, and smiled.
“I am Levar, paladin devotee to Bahamut,” she said. “And you are?”
“No,” I said.
“Well,” Levar shrugged. “They did say you were not going to talk much.”
“They?”
She pointe downwards.
“The villages along the mountain. Legends tell of an old man who lives on the hill. He stared into space a lot. But he’s also always been here. Hundreds of years,” Levar said, a glint in her eyes.
“Hmm.”
“I have a gambling habit,” she said. “Not the best use of my time, and my patron does not like it. But I’ve not seen a surer bet than this—you are immortal.”
I stayed quiet. They might think me a statue and eventually leave.
“Or maybe you are the son. Curses. The bet is not so sure after all,” Levar said. “But it’s why we bothered to trek all the way up here to find you. We are the first visitors in, what, decades?”
“Long enough.”
“You are grumpier than most old men I’ve met, despite how you look,” she laughed. “So my wager is still on. You available to hire for service?”
I snapped back at her, feeling my face scrunch up at an unexpected emotion.
“If I am who you think I am, do you believe I have need of anything? I want peace and quiet. You can accomplish both by leaving immediately.”
“You’ve seen a lot of people die,” Levar said quietly. “Over a long time. Outlived them all. Feels bad, doesn’t it?”
I stared daggers at her. How dare she?
“I can’t say I understand immortality. But I’ve lived a long life,” a small laugh escaped Levar, but there was no mirth in it. “That’s what you get for surviving as a soldier.”
There was pain hidden in Levar’s eyes. But quick as a flash, it went away, replaced by yet another bout of laughing.
“Oh, wise immortal,” the paladin said. “We need help scouting a dangerous dungeon. Our lives, unlike yours, are finite. What say you lend us a hand?”
I scoffed again, but there was a budding curiosity towards the woman in front of me, who seemed to hide more depths than I’e given her credit for.
“What do I get for helping you?”
“The most noble cause of all.” she smiled. “Helping us not die. I’ve seen my fair share of it. Them?”—Levar pointed backwards at the group—” Not so much. I’ll rather it pass us by.”
I studied Levar’s visage, letting quiet feel the open air again. Though she papered over so many things with poor jokes, there was sincerity in those words.
“A later death is better than one now,” she said, before stepping back from me. She turned, and walked back towards her party.
We’ve both seen our fair share of death.
“Fine,” I grunted.
Levar spun around quickly, racing back towards me.
“You agree?”
“It is a noble cause,” I said, pushing myself up to stand. “And hell, we are pushing into the unknown? Maybe I’ll find something dangerous enough to die to.”
--
r/dexdrafts | 138 | Immortality was worse than you thought, the loss of so many friends and family caused you to close off your heart to everyone. For centuries you lived alone in the woods, content in your small cottage, but that changed when a lost group of adventurers knocked on your door for help. | 260 |
"The Mother fuckers did what?!" The mechanic in question was a small man, face pitted and marked with years of work. He bolted straight up from his seat as a taller, younger man, his face dark with grief nodded, hands balling into fist.
" They Killed Lil Marie over cash boss Stonewall."
The Rage bubbled up from Stonewall's gut as he slammed a fist hard enough to leave a heavy crack in the polished wood. He kept his voice even but hands trimbled as he questioned the newest member of his union.
" Do we know the gang? The cops got any leads?"
"No boss, they are just chalking it up to Lil Marie being in bed with them. And moved on." That send Stonewalls blood cold with a fury nearly unbound.
"Fuckin Pigs, they can't do their fuckin job. So I gotta to do it for them. Kid go to her shop, and tell all the cops to fuck up, Stonewall's coming out to play and they don't have a say." He stood up, looking the young man in the eyes.
"Say it with feeling, don't give a single fuck on anything they say, tell'em that, then tell them all mechanics shops are now closed. No matter what they work on."
The young man was confused but nodded and jogged nearly sprinted out of his office.
Stonewall hit a hidden button on his desk as a secret draw slid open. He plucked the black burner phone from it's place, turned it on and texted a few simple words.
* No peace for all gangs and mobs. All Fixers you have the green light.*
He sat back, his eyes at the middle ground, his emotions raw from hearing the news and his orders given, and for a time he say still and silence as memories of the young woman's youth flashed across his minds eye.
He wanted to give tears for the daughter of his closest and dearest friend. But nothing spilled from his eyes.
For the next six months every Gang and Mob was shown the Might of The wall. From heads of family's to even dirty cops there was a rage that washed over the underbelly of the city. Showing who the true monsters that lurk in the city streets.
On the seventh month Stonewall found himself and Six of his most respected fixers, women and men from many nations walking up to a house in the middle of the ghetto, music blared from the target as a house party banged away at the eleventh hour. He slipped on a balaclava and night vision goggles before given a few sharp hand gestures to his unit. They moved like wraiths as he readied his sidearm and double checked his combat knife. He felt an ugly smile pull at his face as the music was killed the the house turned to pitch black. There was a smooth grace in his steps as he was in and up to the five men who did the evil deed.
Let's just say what was left was never found and the pigs were sent first class to the nearest Mob family as a gift and soon after a warning.
* You stood to the side and kept your heads down. Good. But pass the word to all who survived this trial. Bloody a single member of the mechanic union ever again and they will write stories of what's left of your bodies. Signed The Wall* | 70 | Everybody in the city knows the various gangs and families own the city. What they don’t know is that every mechanic in town is neutral ground, and one of them was just killed. | 153 |
My name is Jezzabella Heart and I'm not like other girls. When I walk down the hall at school, the other girls stare, because they know, I am just not like them. They don't agree with my sense of style. While they're dressed up in pink and glitter, I prefer black t-shirts and skinny black jeans.
They just don't understand what it's like. What it's like to be me.
"Oh my God, is that Jizzabell? Gross." I can hear someone laughing, it can only be Cindy Rockafella, she's super rich or something. She's so perfect, her long, perfect finger curls of strawberry blonde hair always bounce like a soft breeze follow her wherever she goes. I hate her guts. "What is that in her hair? Looks like my dog threw up!" She's laughing with her cheer squad friends.
I tug at my hair, the rainbow died strands feel smooth and lush in my fingers, but I can't help but think that maybe it does look like vomit.
"Hey, uh....nice hair or whatever...." I look up and my purple eyes meet scarlet, and I feel like my shrivelled heart skips a beat
"Uh, thanks I guess." His skin was covered in blotchy white paste, his lips dark with cracked lipstick. Eyes rimmed with shaky eye-liner.
He was even wearing a red cravat, I knew at once what he was, and my love could never be.
He was the goth new kid, and I was the emo girl.
Our love would never be accepted by subculture norms.
But still..
"I kind of guess your make-up is pretty cool, I've got cigarettes." He nodded, and his lips pulled up into a neutral expression, as much a smile as either of us would ever show.
I knew that it was destiny. | 2,256 | Your mission is to write the worst opening to a YA novel ever. How badly can you make us cringe? | 2,483 |
I’ve always took pride in my work. Never missed a day in my challenging goal of world domination. Most people take a sick day, but I can’t stand someone possibly getting ahead of me. In order for me to set this world straight, I have to work harder than them. Even on my blogs, people were interested in my achievements. I even obtained a cult following which helps in my purpose. They loved how I intimidated those who worked for me. I read comments such as, “He’s passionate,” and “not willing to take shit from others.”
Despite my devious projects, I’ve been invited to attend several leadership meetings. As a scoundrel, it’s important to keep a charismatic public image. I didn’t accept the meetings for those reasons however, I wanted the fame and recruitment opportunities. I profited from attending these leadership conferences, my Ted talk had an excellent turnout. People wanted to participate. Due to this networking, recent elections polls were in my favor and resumes were filling the inboxes of my emails. I had to hire an HR department to handle the incoming flood of requests. That’s when I attracted the attention of those that I an unsure about.
Lots of the resumes were unprofessional. Typos, an excessive amount of pages, and documents that I am sure were not written in Times New Roman. I made a post on my page about I preferred Times New Roman over any font. Comments asked on how to SWITCH THE FONT. While I am happy that people are applying, I’m not thrilled about the lack of professionalism people emit. I am not thrilled about the sudden uprise of fan girls that I have the 24/7 attention of.
Trending pages on Twitter has thousands of gifs of me and effortless posts trying to bandwagon on what is relevant today. I used to not care about bad publicity or good publicity but this is called cringe publicity. I want to hide in my lair until all of this blows over. Regardless, I need a fresh batch of minions to train in order to oversee the transportation of weaponry. I get HR to sort the resumes out and hire as many sane candidates as my company can muster. It still fell through.
For introductions, I meet my new selected minions on the main floor. Acting as a drill sergeant, I set the tone of utmost loyalty and servitude. It’s guaranteed to motivate my peons. It’s worked until now. My fawners treated their employments like vacations! Taking selfies and posting delicate operations out to the web. I was foiled by my networking, having to stop my whole operation. Curse social media and there constant craving for social validation. | 11 | As a Villain, you’re used to controlling your minions through fear and with this new batch you’ve been trying for the same, but they seem…infatuated with you instead. Maybe a little too much... | 56 |
The human stops walking. "What?"
"To use your vernacular, you're putting millions of intelligent species on the radar. You've got a diverse range of fauna that seem to exhibit what we consider intelligence. Reactivity to stimulus. The ability to make conscious decisions for their own betterment."
"...Can you name some of the new species for me?" There's a moment of silence. Awkward eye contact.
"...Raven. Dog. Owl. Cat..."
"Oh! Got it!" The human decided to play along, "And what about bigger species?"
"Gorilla, chimp, Sasquatch, vampire, dragon, squirrel, mice; Your mice *especially* are more intelligent than we other variants we've found. You've taught them to drive cars!"
"Sorry, roll it back. You said what now?"
"I know! It's crazy! You guys managed to make small, simple vehicles that rodents can pilot for a reward. They've even shown higher dopamine levels while driving, implying they enjo--"
"No, no, sorry. You said Gorilla, chimp, *Bigfoot, vampires, and dragons?!*"
"...Well, yes. Why do you sound as though it's a preposterous statement?"
"Because it is!"
"No. You have historical records about these beings."
"Nooo, we've got fairy tales and-- and myths and legends about those things. Vampires are just a dramatization of an ancient king, Vlad. Dragons were just exaggerated versions of snakes. Bigfoot was the first Fursona."
"Then we may have misidentified some species. Can you help us? There they are on the right." The human kept his cool when the extremely cold, extremely pointy-toothed man shook his hand. The same with the gentleman with some sort of combination of Marfan's Syndrome and a body hair disorder. But when the horse sized lizard made eye contact, he passed out. | 1,231 | “So how many other intelligent races are there?” the human asked the alien delegate. “Without Earth, several thousand.” “Oh, well, glad to add one more.” The alien blinked. “No…,” it said. “Millions. Your planet was quite the find…” | 1,686 |
I awoke in a field of green. There were unicorns surrounding me, and I couldn't move my arms or legs. The unicorn in front asked me again,"why are you bearing The Sign?" I had to think quickly. In my world, the mark on my wrist identified me as a member of a cult of bloodthirsty murderers hellbent on worshipping an angry God. What can I say? We believe Him to be the only God on our home planet of Zyxafris.
However, out loud, I said,"this mark identifies me as an adventurer, one who seeks to find balance in the world, through peaceful diplomacy where possible, and through violence and bloodshed where necessary." The unicorn looked sad. "I don't understand why none of the worshippers of Zorn-" for this was the name of our God-"will be honest about Him and His designs." The unicorn poked me hard with his horn, hard enough to draw blood. I screamed. Of all the innocents whom I'd murdered in the Name of my God, they'd all screamed, just like I was screaming then.
"Don’t lie to us!" Screamed the unicorn. "You worship an evil God! One who is currently sought as a criminal in the High Court of the Gods!" The other unicorns began screaming "Justice be Done! Justice be Done!" And the head unicorn implored me," now, young son of Zorn, tell us the location of Zorn or you shall see Justice be Done!" This was happening so fast. I was either losing my mind or or drugs, clearly. But the stab wound in my chest hurt something fierce.
"Who is Zorn?" I tried to play dumb, but I was pretty sure it wouldn't work. "Justice be Done!" The head unicorn screamed over the din, and stabbed me, with his horn, this time in the stomach. "Aaaaaahhhhh!" Part of my intestines hung from his horn. I began hyperventilating, knowing I would die here, and with no weapon, I would surely descend to the dark afterlife of the Machine Priesthood, and become a menial worker for all eternity. Zorn, it hurt. "Look around you! These are all your former companions, the Priesthood of Zorn!" I looked around me. Where moments ago I had seen lush green grass and forests at the edge of my vision, now I could see nothing but piles of bodies, seeming to go on forever.
"Will you rat on your God, or will you face the eternal nothingness of the Machine Priesthood?" Between hyperventilating breaths, I managed to scream out,"never!" And was stabbed a third time with the horn. This time I felt the pain briefly in my neck, and then I suppose I died. I saw a great white light, and Zorn, emanating from it, in His resplendent red armor, with spikes which were each impaling people. This was the usual way he was represented. Zorn said to me,"when it is your time, come to me and be welcome. However, if you are to join My Eternal Guard, you must first undergo this Task; deny the High Court and its servants any pertinent information." and then I was sucked backwards and away from both Zorn and the Light. I was then transported back to the field of bodies, where the unicorns lay, walked, and brayed," Justice be Done!" The head unicorn looked at me and said,"now you see your predicament.
However, if you simply give us the location of Zorn, we will allow you to pass to the afterlife of the White City." I shook my head and looked away while the unicorn stabbed me with its horn. Then I noticed that all the bodies were me. | 17 | You startle awake to being magically pinned down by a visibly distraught unicorn. “Forgive me human, but they hold my world hostage.” Just before you loose consciousness, the field fades and the unicorn points to a tattoo of seven-pointed star on your wrist. “Why are you bearing The Sign?!” | 56 |
"...I suppose it would never last, huh?"
I stand up, despite decades having passed I still feel fresh and fine. A testament to the geneartisians of Variesia huh?
"They are approximately fifteen minutes away. Exit plan Epsilon is recommended." Back exit, tunnel, foliage crawl to foil IR, and timed self destructs on everything.
I put on the old armor, waiting as it connects. It's been a while since I've worn this, though I've serviced it faithfully.
"Diagnostic and boot complete. Five magazines and three hundred spare rounds. Two sidearm magazines, 72 spare rounds. Battle rifle and suppressed sidearm I presume?"
It takes a few minutes to get ready. I'd left off the drills, thought that maybe I was safe. "Major, please. Very few maintain readiness over decades."
"...yeah. But it still hurts a little."
I glance at myself in the mirror. A few new scars, though I still look the same as ever. Generic, gender neutral, easily disguised me.
"...where'd I leave the SynthFace mask?"
"In the footlocker, Major. I should warn you, you likely should test it later rather than now."
"Got it."
I take some more medical and rations, a few pathfinding items, and then step out. In the corner of my eye I can see the progress of whoever it is...?
"...hey, you seein this? They don't look state or corpo. Wetworks would have more professional movement too."
"Vocal stress analysis appears to be mild. They do not seem to be expecting a fight."
...I wonder. Maybe a little of the old people-watching, then. "Ingrid, get me an overlook on these guys." | 24 | "Been some time Major, unfortunately they've found our location. I'm restoring your combat protocols". | 113 |
I stared into... nothing really. All it was, was a blank void of blackness, that seemed to host nothing but the voice announcing my death. It was kind of anti-climatic if I was being honest. One moment alive, next here without a transition or anything to get me accustomed to my surroundings. Speaking of which, I wasn't listening to the voice because I was panicking.
&#x200B;
"Can you repeat that please?" I shouted out.
&#x200B;
“Welcome to the Afterlife, Choose any story you’ve ever read and you will be transmigrated to that world in the peak of health.” The disembodied voice said, with a hint of a sigh preceding it. However, that wasn't the main problem I was facing.
&#x200B;
"Uh, does it have to be any story I *read*?" I said, slightly worried.
&#x200B;
"Yes." The booming voice responded.
&#x200B;
"I'm illiterate."
&#x200B;
Silence.
&#x200B;
"What." The voice replied, with a very large emphasis on 'You've got to be kidding me'.
&#x200B;
"Blame my countries budget." I defended quickly before any accusations were thrown, "I just worked my whole life, and died... wait, how did I die?"
&#x200B;
"Heart Attack."
&#x200B;
"Knew I should've laid off those chips, oh well, hindsight is 20/20. What now?"
&#x200B;
"Are you certain you didn't read anything at all?"
&#x200B;
"Yeah, what do we do now? Do I get resurrected? Do I get passed off to another god? What now?"
&#x200B;
"I well... I know!" Suddenly, a small book appeared out of thin air or whatever I was breathing, and landed in front of me, "There, a story, a rather good one at that."
&#x200B;
I just stood there and stared back up into the empty space above me.
&#x200B;
"I can't read."
&#x200B;
This time, a very audible sigh pierced the air. A couple seconds past, then the book vanished. Immediately after that, a small wooden chair appeared a few feet away from me, coupled with a desk topped with books, pencils and papers of all kinds. In front of these items was a chalkboard already being utilised by a floated chalk.
&#x200B;
"Sit down." The voice demanded with a grumble, "English class is in session." | 67 | The last thing you remember is the truck, then nothing but darkness surrounding you. “Welcome to the Afterlife,” the disembodied voice said. “Choose any story you’ve ever read and you will be transmigrated to that world in the peak of health.” | 120 |
When one begs the gods for help, there is almost an unspoken protocol within the lands of Greece. Don't ask Hades, is a rule many ascribe to. Not for any legitimate reason, its just that the god of the dead was seen an... uncomfortable being to ask for menial tasks.
And yet, as Stephanos stared at the lord of the underworld who was currently standing in his living room, he only had a fraction of a second to process his taboo, before he got his response.
"Of course I'll help!" chimed the chthonic Hades, his eyes glinting like brimstone on the moonlit home of the shepherd.
"Wait, really?"
"Gladly!" Hades exclaimed again, still with the cheery attitude.
"Ok, I'm going to be completely honest with you, i was sort of joking about the whole idea." Stephanos admitted "Not that I doubt your power, lord Hades, its just that i didn't think you'd be in the mood to help with something so trivial."
Hades chuckled, before sitting one one of Stephanos' spare chairs. "I get that a lot, you know?" He said, before adding "But when I received my duties from Zeus, i vowed to always perform my duties, no matter how extremely boring filing endless amounts of paperwork is."
"Yeah, good thing then, I didn't want to call on Aphrodite-"
"Because she's a bane on civilisation, driving people to commit atrocities for no other reason than maintaining her, and this is a legitimate quote 'OTPs and NoTPs', at all costs?"
"I have no idea what that means, but kinda? I felt like she was a short term solution."
Hades nodded solemnly "You're not kidding, you know? I had to work overtime because of the Troy incident. Persephone nearly killed her for 'Working me to death'. I "
"So do you know what you're doing, with the whole 'wingman' thing?"
"I've been married for centuries, dear, And quite happily too." He smiled, a kind of nostalgic and warm smile crept over him, making even Stephanos feel happy. "I know what people stay for, unlike my siblings..." He said, Stephanos trying to not agree with him, lest he get smited.
"And you won't be needed in Hades, your realm, that is?"
"Persephone has helped me with my tasks ever since we wed." Hades explained. "She's a little... brutal, in the punishment department, but I should be back before spring. So no, my realm will not go unruled."
"Right then, where do we begin?"
"Two words: Pomegranate pie."
"...What?"
Hades burst into nostalgic laughter "I'm only joking, dear." hades then snapped his fingers, producing a quill and scroll from out of thin air. "Tell me about this girl, I'd like to know her a bit before I come up with a plan." | 311 | You have a finally managed to get a date with the crush you’ve been vying for months. Suddenly realizing you have no idea how a date works, you plead with a God to be your wingman and guide. Not Aphrodite, no. You plead for Hades. He accepts to aid you. | 710 |
And so for your final test you utter the words
"Then make me a god."
Upon hearing this the random man smiles and states the following through barely contained laughter
"Oh my....upon all my creation human greed and desire had and always will be pushed to its limits when given the perfect opportunity to present itself and fester in ones heart, body and soul, thus it cannot be underestimated. However, I have promised to fulfill any action you ask of me as proof that I am who I am and so I will give you your wish, though you better not regret it.
Upon uttering those words your form seems to shimmer as knowledge and power you can never imagine having begins coursing through the very fiber of your being. After the entry of power into your form you awake to an empty void with the random man standing at the centre holding a halberd that glowed with immense might.
"Child do you ever wonder why only one god exists despite there once being many? The answer is simple....at the end of the day only one of us can truly sit on the gilded throne and be worshipped by all. You're mortality made you impossible to kill due to the prescence of the divine edicts created by those before us that have governed even us gods, however you and I now stand on equal ground, therefore, the edicts protect you no more"
You can only stare in horror as the man begins to charge at you in the process of his charge the man discards his mortal visage showing an entity that can only be described as a lovecraftian horror. But before you could react to the absurdity of your situation the ancient blade of the man's halberd comes crashing down severing your neck from your shoulders. At this the entity stops and stares at your dying body....not with a look of rage or hatred but with a look of regret and disappointment.
"For eons I have reinforced that I was the one true God to prevent any more of your kind from challenging me. I have never been the same since the war in heaven...I slew my father, mother and siblings not by my own reason but to survive. In reality I have always hated the notion of killing but if it is for my survival the I must do it. I apologize child but your greed and desire has taken you to places one must never venture as such I must cut your journey off here before you threaten me and the worlds that I protect."
With this final declaration the entity removed it's blade from your body and allows you to collapse to the floor before turning away with a remorseful look. As your vision turns to black and the curse from the blade begins to seep into the deepest crevices of your soul you can only stare at the void as the end slowly draws nigh. | 10 | a random man on the street claims to be God. Anytime you ask him to prove it he is able to do whatever you ask. | 18 |
A dark obsidian figure turns on a console, and it lights up with bright unnatural projected keys. It types away before turning to face it with a proper posture. What can be presumed as speech, comes in vibrations from its head. It roughly translates to, "Report #37-1b from the invasion force in sector C - planet 37196-3."
It takes a pause before continuing, the words proper and composed, "The carbon based lifeforms located on 37196-3 initially put up little to no resistance due to their lack of understanding of us and our superior technology," it murrs audibly with what it calls amusement with no known translation for it before resuming the report, "for the record, they still use the means of chemical projectile propulsion in their standard weaponry. It is compared to what our young would use for recreational activities to entertain themselves."
Knowing that it got off track, it makes a cracking sound as a signal of its wasteful use of time. "Once again, as I stated in the previous report, the invasion began in the relative centers of each major landmass. These life forms were new to us and their study was mandatory, but our efforts were in vain as they took our probe's arrival as a relatively hostile action five solar cycles ago."
It took a moment to compose itself while shaking its head. "It was going so well…" It takes its crystalline appendages and roughly grabs its head as crisp sounds of cracking ice escape it.
As it straightens out once again, a door behind it slides open and another similar, but shorter figure with one less set of tentacle-like crystal appendages speaks, but the vibrations don't carry over to the recording.
"Now?" It asked the newcomer, and received an instantaneous answer. "Hold them off for as long as you can." The creature bows and murrs with solemness to it. "Honour, brother…"
The creature goes back to face the console after the other smaller one leaves in a hurry. "As you well might know, the substance molecularly known as H2O or as the natives call it: wæţěŕ," the creature began to imitate speech as humans would know it, but only a single vibrating syllable is left in the air. "It has an adverse effect on our bodys' structure as the molecules enter in the crystalline framework and bind in place, separing appendages and afterwards halting any potential regrafting." It takes a moment as it chooses what it says next, "The study of H2O's effect on our bodies was deemed inhumane as its contact causes immense pain to the sensory fibers within and lasts for as long as the molecules stay within the structure…"
It looks away from the console and grabs its head again, but this time when it takes the apandages away, there are long marks across it. "Initially, the invasion was planned to cull the species, stop environmental collapse, and preserve the only known carbon lifeforms for study… but…" It vibrates, its whole body shakes violently. "Their cruelty knows no bounds. We-I have seen what H2O does to us in live combat… The screams of our kin. I CAN'T GET THEM OUT OF MY HEAD!!!" Its violent shaking gets out of control as it slams its appendages against the console as a dull rock against rock sound echoes in the small chamber. What stops its outburst is a distinctly different rumbling coming from the walls.
"Excuse my shame." It bows to the console. "We used pre-prepared humane ways of eliminating the sentient beings that caused this planet's pain, but they found out through an act of pure coincidence that contact with H2O is deadly, and they use what can be presumed as toys of their young to kill us en masse…."
Another rumble emanates but this time it comes from behind the door. "I think this planet with all of its inhabitants has to be exterminated," the creature said with confidence that it hadn't displayed, leaning into the console. "We thought they'd compete with us in the future, but the sheer pleasure they take in killing us, the use of such cruel ways…"
The door explodes behind it. "Send a RKM now. Eliminate the planet before they develop reliable space trav-," it spoke fast before it began to scream in pain. The howls do not translate to anything, but it is like bending metal before breaks, the scream of hot copper being dipped in cold water. It is so universal that even the humans behind it understood, as it melted away from its solid yet flexible crystal structure to a consistency of wet sand starting from the back.
When the crystal figure dipped away from the frame, three humans dressed in tactical gear but wielding comically orange and white colored super soakers that squirted liquid that was deadly to the zebraxians. They cheered as the screams of the poor creature ended with a quiet whimper… | 21 | Aliens have invaded earth and are immune to all weaponry, until one day a alien goes to a water park and dies. After which humans now fight with super soak-er weapons. Write down the story about either the alien perspective or human army man perspective of the rest of the war. | 50 |
Six days. A little less than a week's time. That's all the time that world of Valysia had left.
At least, that's what the wizards said. Give or take one or two days. Divining was a *tricky* business, after all, and uncertainty was the only certainty.
Grandwizard Gnoke Redwood had been the first to see the signs in his crystal ball. At first, he had thought that he'd forgotten to turn it on. He rubbed the shimmery surface, squinted myopically, and spun it around. Perhaps it had stopped working?
But no.
The green ON button was very clearly flashing. The crystal ball was functioning, but all that Gnoke could see was...darkness.
Perhaps it was a user error?
Gnoke gathered all his finest colleagues (yes, even the ones who used tea-leaves), and together, they performed the most concerted divination effort in history.
The results were undeniable.
The entire tarot deck transformed into copies of the 13th trump, the dice turned into actual knucklebones, and the lecanomancer's water turned to poison.
And to top it all off, when brewed, the tea leaves created a strangely aromatic bitter brew that gave Grandwizard Deacon a splitting headache, rendering him useless for the rest of the day.
Amidst all the certainty of uncertainty, one thing was certain: unless drastic measures were taken, the world would soon be ending. After Gnoke's announcement, there was a mass panic.
Workers quit their jobs in droves.
Young women binge-watched the final season of Unwed Singles in Paradisia.
Philosophers argued furiously about the different catastrophes that could bring about Valysia's demise.
Many taverns shut down after running out of supplies, due to an unprecedented surge in demand for "alcohol, any kind of alcohol, seriously, I will drink whatever you have".
And in a remote cave, somewhere far beyond the edges of civilization, Bashuk Boghimmer calmly set aside the wild boar she was spit-roasting, hocked a loogie into the fire, and set off to find Enxa of the Golden Tooth.
\---
/r/theBasiliskWrites | 224 | "So you're saying we should save this world that hates us and where every living thing in it wants us dead?", question the goblin. The orc shrugged, "Yeah, I mean we live in it too.". The goblin sighed, "When do we start?". | 2,453 |
I hovered before them, the gears in my brain grinding together as I considered a response. Usually the kids just cheer as I fly away. Usually their only response to my line was "Ok Windsong!", but this kid, he stared me down with genuine wonder.
"I...well it's not about the money! It's about doing what's right!"
"My dad said he makes more than you, he works at the bank. I wanna work at the bank too."
His dad was probably right. Pay didn't really exist in my realm of work. Sure in my apartment I had plenty of keys to the city, gifts from ambassadors, pictures with powerful men hanging on the walls, but it was still an apartment, and one that I could barely afford. I would never admit it aloud that I would trade it all for a salary.
"Ah, well that's very good! You should want to be like your father! Alright kids be sure to-"
"*My* dad says you're a waste of time." another kid interrupted.
Well that was just mean. But still a kid as shown plainly by the large booger hanging from his nose I floated down, the wind surrounding me softly blowing back the kids hair and fluttering their kool-aid stained shirts. As I landed the weather dispersed and I leaned in close.
"What bank did you say your dad worked at?" I whispered, just to the one in the middle. He told me, in broken words and misspoken titles, but when you've protected the city this long you learn to parse these things out.
"Stay safe kids. Ill be back." I didn't bother putting on my hero voice. I just spoke, then burst off from the ground, the group of kids barely standing after facing the windstorm from my launch. In seconds I was at the banks front steps. *Headway International* The kid had told me *Head Bank*, close enough.
Fueled by anger, by a sense of just how unfair what I did was. What did that kids dad do? Did he save the city working twelve, thirteen hour days? Of course not. Yet he made double, maybe triple what I did.
I burst through the glass bank doors, the storm of my wind in tow. Papers shot from desks, pens flew up into the air, at one of the counters a mans toupee rose from his head. Everyone shot for some semblance of cover from my power.
As my storm settled all eyes were on me. I spoke loudly, confidently, my voice carried by wind: "I would like a job!".
The room stared back with wide eyes. One of the clerks looked around to the devistation I had caused just by entering. "Well I uh...yes right this way Mr. Windsong." | 319 | "And always remember kids, crime does not pay!" the hero said to the group of children watching the aftermath of a superhero fight. One child raises their hand. "How much do they pay you?" | 701 |
In the jail cell of the Thief, he is popping grapes in his mouth while the Queen is talking to him. He eyes her and her face is wonderful to stare at. He doesn’t listen to her while the Queen is nervously trying to convince him to take his hand into marriage. He pops another grape in his mouth, wondering on how he’s going to get out of here. He’s waiting for the perfect opportunity to climb out the window of the cell.
But she keeps going on and on. She’s kind of a nag, I’m sure her husband would be nettled every day of his lifetime. Whoever he might be.
“Are you listening?” She asked.
“Huh?”
“I know it’s a weird thing to ask,” she said, rubbing her neck in order to ease the tension, “but it’ll give you freedom and food.” The Thief liked the sound of that,
“Deal.” He said, walking out of the cell as she lets him out. He is guided by her servants to a bedroom. They try to change him into pajamas but he declines. When given a moment alone, he eyes the room. A large mirror is hanging on the wall. He walks up to it and eyes his demeanor, noticing that his hair is not up to par. Grabbing a brush placed by the nightstand, he brushes his black hair into fashion. His thoughts cruise by after the long day, wondering how he got here.
“I should have listened to her.” He said to himself at the mirror. A handsome man was staring back at him. Telling him what to do. When’s he done, he goes to an ornate window and looks outside, noticing that he can’t use the bedsheets to make a rope long enough to escape so he turns in for the night.
At morning, he awakes to a knock of the mahogany door. A young boy, a servant, calls out to him,
“Hello? We must head out way to the dressing room.” He said. Why do these people want to undress and dress me as they please? He got up and put on a green puffy shirt and black linen jeans. He walked out and shook hands with the tiny blonde haired, green eyed young boy.
“Hello,” The thief said to the boy, “What is this dressing room for?”
“For the wedding of course.”
The Thief took this as a silly joke and played along. Walking along with him, he studied the inner halls of the castle, noting where the riches could be. | 84 | The thief who was caught stealing from the palace wine vineyard. | 277 |
A mortal man could have many skills. An immortal reaper had all of them. Yet one consistent man was an enigma to me. He had beaten me at 513 games. An astonishing number. Especially compared to second place, who had won a measly 22 years extra. That man had been smart. Never did he ever challenge me to a game of skill. Coin tosses, dice rolls, and even once a game of rock paper scissors. Funnily enough I finally reaped him when he decided on a game of uno of all things.
513 was different. Every game was a game of skill. And he'd always win or draw. It was a strange feeling. I had a grown an odd fondness of the mortal. He would talk through the games. A little too much for someone playing with their life on the line. He always gestured enthusiastically with his arms and hands. His eyes never broke contact with mine. And after a good hundred years. I talked to him too. Reapers don't communicate with others often. It is a lonely career. But I bonded with this mortal man. Over his skill. Often we would talk about what he achieved with his extra year of life. He'd insist on asking me what happens if he'd lose. At some points I almost considered telling him. But I never did. A reaper's most consistent rule is that souls reaped must not know what awaits them. Reapers would change how the contests work, or decide to spare a mortal for a good few years past their time, and bend the rules in most ways they pleased. But never would they tell. A human soul cannot know what awaits them.
513 just became 514. He had died many times. The first was on a medieval battlefield. He challenged me to a game of archery. It ended in a tie. A tie could go either way. It depended on the reaper. I decided to gift him a year of life. I often wonder how things would've changed if I settled that one differently. The second most noticeable one was a bullet through the head. Fighting in the Revolutionary War. He had died many times before this. However it is much harder to bring a mortal back from such a wound. Not because it is out of our power. But because it confuses the humans who are greeted by a human who had survived the impossible. But he had won that game too. He challenged me to a game of chess. One that was often chosen, and not often loss on the reapers' side. I had thought that was it for him. But somehow at the end I was latched into his conversation. And he ended up beating me. I gave him farewell. And let him move back into the mortal world.
This time though? Not a battlefield. Another heart attack. One not so different from the many that had befallen him before. He grinned as he sat down at the table across from me.
"You know, I've been starting to wonder, how exactly long do you plan on keeping this up."
I stared blankly, and replied. The latter was something very few mortals recieved.
"For as long as you keep winning."
That made him smile. He was thinking of a game. I could tell when he thought of games. He'd pat his fingers against the ivory table. I often wondered how he had knowledge of so many games. Perhaps he spent his years in the mortal realm mastering a new game to challenge me too.
He smirked.
"A game of Jenga sounds about right to me."
It is hard being a reaper in the modern world. For in the earlier years you'd have games with more dignity. Yet for every man who asks to play chess, there's one fool who asks for twister. I waved my arms and a jenga set appeared before us. Carved finely from bone with small skulls pronounced in each piece.
"You first." This was another thing about 514. Mortals had always gone first. Yet he would insist on me going first every time without fail. I plucked a simple center piece and placed it atop the set. And soon enough he started talking. He had mentioned his great-great-great-great grand daughter. His favorite so far. But he always said that about the newborns. It was oddly sweet to hear about new life as someone who takes it away.
The game continued. For each piece the tower grew more precarious. And I noticed something. A strange glint in the lighting coming from his hand. I continued listening to his conversation it was my turn. I had decided on a higher piece. One that had already been plucked earlier in the game.
He smirked, and the tower came falling down.
"Another year then?"
I knew about the thread. It had taken me 123 years to figure out about his cheating on every game. More than I'd care to admit. But he was a friend at that point. So I let him live every time. For once he truly wanted death I knew he would lose. I never would let him know that I knew. That smile from winning each time was the highlight of my time reaping.
"Another year then." | 1,067 | as the god of death, before a soul passes on, they may challenge you to a contest for one year of extra time. There is one soul that is on his 513th extra year, even after you added a rule that it has to be a different contest every time. | 1,529 |
The Dark Lord woke up from his adequate eight hours of rest, and smiled gently at his polished ceiling. It was a mirror that reflected his own supreme visage back at him, of course.
He stretched his arms up with a small, satisfied sigh. The Dark Lord took his time heading into the bathroom, brushing his teeth thoroughly and remembered to floss. Hot water already filled the bathtub, so he sunk his hands in to fill it. Perfect temperature—hot enough to scald most skins, but not his toughened body. He filed a mental note to thank Esmeralda, his assigned maid for the day.
The Dark Lord bathed, then stopped in front of the full-length mirror present in his bathroom while still naked. He gazed up and down, and admired every facet of his body. He then waltzed into his wardrobe, picking out an outfit that fit the occasion.
Black cape flourishing behind him, he moved to the balcony, and looked upon his kingdom. 83 years on, it still felt incredible that to know that every soul, in every building, was under his thumb.
Except, technically, for one. The Dark Lord let his gaze drop, watching the once-hero standing as still as a statue in the open courtyard. Nothing but grey stones surrounded him. The only pop of colour was the blue aura that enveloped him from head to toe, and even from this distance, the Dark Lord could see Benjamin muttering.
The Dark Lord sighed. He squatted slightly, powerful legs springing to action. He launched himself up in the air, then dropped softly but safely when his magical cape unfurled to its full lengths. They almost looked like an angel’s wings, save for the pure black that coloured it.
“Benjamin,” the Dark Lord said, walking up towards the hero.
Surprisingly, the man has shown no signs of aging. The signs of exertion, however, were plentiful. Sweat dripped from every pore, and he gritted his teeth so hard they could probably gnash boulders.
The hero’s eyes swivelled towards the Dark Lord, but his mouth did not stop moving. It sounded like utter gibberish to the evil Lord.
“It’s been 83 years,” the Dark Lord said. “Since the day you promised to strike me down, and kill me where I stand.”
The Master of Darkness shrugged, and held his arm wide open.
“I’ve stood on the towers of former kings. Scaled the mountains of Alavar. Walk through Hell itself. And yet, I continue to stand.”
The Dark Lord paced around the hero, clicking his tongue.
“83 years. Did you have a family? A loved one? Odds are, they are dead. Because I’ve killed many lovers with my own hand, for once. The other is because it’s been 83 damn years.”
The Hero did not move.
“I dressed up for this special occasion, you know,” the Dark Lord chuckled. “83 years since the day you practically handed me this kingdom on a plate.”
In an instant, several things happened.
The blue aura disappeared. If one could splice the instants into further instants, it would then be possible to see all that energy coalesce into the Dark Lord himself.
Benjamin budged, the first time he moved in nearly a century.
The Dark Lord noticed, and immediately threw up a shielding spell.
The Dark Lord, however, did not notice the blue aura until it shone bright from his own chest, azure light filling up every crevice in his body.
“Benjamin!” the Dark Lord screamed. “What is this?”
“My spell,” Benjamin said. “It took a lot longer to cast than expected. That’s what you get when you teach a master-tier spell from a wizened wizard to a damned warrior.”
The Dark Lord desperately tried to cast out the light, quickly screaming through a number of dispelling spells he remembered. The blue stayed.
“I’m dying,” the Master of Darkness screamed. “Dying!”
“83 years,” Benjamin said. He lifted his shaking hands, watching them turn knackered, smooth skin reveal the veins underneath. They trembled and curled, the skin loosening by the second. It started travelling up his arms, and soon, his face was wrinkled.
“The spell,” Benjamin continued. “Couldn’t destroy you. We figured you’ll just resurrect anyway. Could be one year, two, a hundred, or a thousand. You’ll come back. So we needed to think outside the box.”
There was no horror in the hero’s face, however, only a wry smile.
“We gave you a soul,” the hero smiled. “83 long years. Think of the atrocities you’ve committed.”
“Oh god,” the Dark Lord wept. His legs crumbled, and his knees hit the ground with an alarming crack.
Benjamin’s voice wavered, and croaked now. He, too, stumbled, and found himself crashing towards the ground. His skin turned sallow and grey, and he pointed a gnarled finger towards the Dark Lord.
“Long live the Dark Lord,” the hero laughed.
It was the last peal of laughter heard in the courtyard, before the sounds of sorrowful sobs filled the air.
---
r/dexdrafts | 412 | The hero and the demon lord finally faced each other 83 years ago. The hero hasn't stopped charging his attack. Everyone's already gone home and forgotten about it. | 524 |
I regretted yelling as soon as the words left my mouth. The hero stared at me, large eyes opening wide. She looked like a deer and had even frozen in place. My mouth opened and shut like a fish, but I couldn't summon any more words. I'd probably said too much already.
"I..." She stopped and I knew she had been wanting to say sorry. "I... don't know." Sitting on the ground, she swiped at her face. Oh, great, I'd made her cry. I didn't want to make her cry, I'd never wanted to make anyone cry. She murmured something about not understanding what was wrong with her and I felt my heart crack.
I squatted down and reached out an arm.
"Look. There's nothing wrong with you. At least not more than anyone else." I sighed, as she looked up hopefully. Continuing, I shifted from a squat to a sitting position. "This might be a touchy subject, but I'm the villain, so I'm gonna keep talking. Sometimes, if you come from an abusive background, or an uneasy home life, or even a very toxic relationship, the way you could be safe was to apologize. It's one of the only ways you could return to a place of safety." Her damp eyes bored into my soul, and I tried to summon a half smile. The silence stretched.
"How do you know?" Voice trembling, her fingers tapped a tattoo on her leg. I'd touched a nerve, that was obvious.
"Because that was me. I've had a lot of things to unlearn in the past, and it's a constant struggle. Patterns are difficult once they get stuck, hard to break." Summoning up all my courage, I reached forward and laid a hand over hers. "But they can be broken. You can unlearn that constant fear. It can be done."
She didn't pull away instantly, which I counted as a victory, if only a small one. Swallowing hard, she frowned down at the ground.
"How? How do you unlearn," she tripped over the unfamiliar word. "Unlearn something like that? Sorry for asking."
I let the apology go, the more important matter on hand, the question she asked. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her up, and because I could, pulled her into a hug. At first, she stiffened, but relaxed almost immediately, hugging me fiercely back.
Releasing, I smiled at her. "You've already done the first step. You've asked for help. And now we need to find you a therapist. I have a good one, but you don't need to use them. We find you one that you're comfortable with. They'll know how to help you, with your particular situation." She nodded and reached out. Hand in hand, we turned and walked away, down the long and dusty road.
After all, every journey begins with a single step. And sometimes you just need a bit of help to get you started. And that's okay. | 15 | "STOP IT! STOP APOLOGISING!" You, the villain yelled at the hero. It had been a few weeks since you saved the hero after she tried to sacrifice herself to save your life. Now she won't stop apologizing, "Why do you feel like you have to apologize for everything little thing?!" | 44 |
A murder sat perched on the highest branch of a burning tree. Beneath them, the battle roared on loudly, flames flickering along disintegrating pastures and leaving nothing but scattered ash behind. The flock of crows shuddered against the wind, raising their feathers in preparation for flight as the current swept them along. In the air, fragments of the strife floated with them; corroded human flesh reduced to lingering dust, the smell of copper blood drifting through their olfactory glands, their homes blazing on in the distance, destroyed by the touch of mortal kind, forced to migrate early, well before season, where the chances for survival grew more and more grim with every flap — every glimpse at the war beneath.
While this murder continues its trek for survival overhead, a different type of murder takes place below.
Among the burning fields of ongoing battle, a man grows hungry — with revenge, with passion, maybe even with fear, although mostly with duty; for mortal he may be, but a king he is now.
His sword meets metal with a resounding clack, and the force of his hit sends the enemy tumbling backwards, where he quickly follows up with one final slash as his victim’s limbs splay out against the red soaked grassland beneath. This too, shall grow hungry. If the corpse doesn’t burn, it will be feasted upon. Perhaps even by the crows he saw hovering above earlier.
The King turns around, wasting no time in readying himself for another fight, when suddenly an unknown power sends him sprawled against the ground. He lands hard, groaning when he feels his shoulder crack. *A bone,* he thinks to himself dimly. He must have broken his bone. Getting to his knees hurriedly, he tightens his grip around his sword before turning to meet the eyes of the opponent who had gotten lucky and pulled one over his head.
And there she was. A beautiful, buxom knight with long golden hair. She smiles at him beneath her hardened eyes, and he’s surprised to find no lingering traces of crimson against her face. *Perhaps she’s just arrived.*
The King is no fool, after all. He knows just who this woman is. What she’s fated to do. Exactly who it is she’s supposed to kill.
Her name, while not known, rests heavily upon many kings’ shoulders. Of course, she stands upon most of their graves now, almost always taking their land and kingdoms with her.
She was fierce, the King will give her that, but he also won’t let her take his people without a fight. It would be stupid to underestimate her, just as many had before, so he won’t begrudge her with any pleasantries. Maybe in some other life they could have been allies, but right now, in this world they are nothing but enemies.
The King has lost many loved one’s in his short time on earth. He wasn’t about to lose their legacy too.
“Warrior,” The King mummers, “I take it you’ve come to capture my kingdom?”
The woman just smiles.
“Well,” He says, “I won’t let you do so, so easily.” With that, The King gets up from his kneel on the ground to stand tall and confidently. He glances at the woman — The Warrior — once more, when a look silently passes between them.
*Show me why you’re a king.* It says.
The King smirks. “Show me why you’re a warrior, first.”
And just like that, they’re dancing. Bodies fight for dominance, swords clash like music, a battle is engaged so fiercely it leaves them both greedy for more. They’re in another world, now, entirely separate from the battle raging outside, as if forever stuck in time.
The King ducks as a sudden swing of metal propels itself forward. He retaliates with a swipe of his own, and grins when she evades it easily. They pause, gasping with adrenaline, before meeting once more.
The King has never been more tired nor exhilarated in his life. Even still, he feels challenged — and by someone worthy, at that. It feels good, somehow, if he were to ignore just how many people died by her people’s hands. By his own hand.
Perhaps it’s the guilt that does it, or maybe it’s the aching chill forever residing in his bones, even as the heat licks at his toes, but the next time The Warrior lunges at him, The King does not duck. He goes down hard, fire radiating through his injured shoulder, further aggravating it. Had they been fighting both unharmed, perhaps he wouldn’t be in this position, but as is, he was completely trapped. Forced to surrender as a coward or die a hero.
He waits for the final blow to strike upon him, but it never comes. Peering behind confused eyes, he watches as The Warrior looms above him. Like this, he can see exactly where she gets her name from — sweat glistening hair sticks against her face like glue, blood marred upon her skin raggedly from the times *she* hadn’t ducked, golden locks floating in the wind like suspended time, chest heaving as if ready to burst, but never ready to give up. Never giving into surrender.
With a pearly smile, the warrior sheathes her blade and says these words: “A worthy King.” She offers her hand to him, like a flickering light in surrounding darkness, and he confusingly takes it, letting her pull him up and hold on even as he stands on his own.
“A worthy King,” She repeats, “For a worthy kingdom.”
“You’re sparing me?” The King asks. She nods. “Why?”
“Because only fools believe they are immortal, and I have met many fools responsible for many kingdoms. Responsible for many people. But you are no fool, King Algar, and I am no fool either.”
The Warrior unleashes her hand gently, looking him over and pausing when she reaches his shoulder. “You should get that checked out.”
He nods, and she nods back.
With that, she turns to leave but stops when he calls out to her. “Will we ever see each other again?”
“Perhaps one day.” She smiles at him softly, and finally makes her leave.
*Perhaps one day, indeed.*
The King stands amidst burning fields and rotting flesh silently, and thinks back to The Warrior’s words.
*Only fools believe they are mortal,* She had told him. Rather distantly, he remembered another memory, once forgotten but still lingering, even if unbidden.
Growing up, his mother had always said he was born from ash. *‘Like a phoenix,’* she would whisper while tucking the covers snuggly against him, *‘But you know what’s the greatest thing about phoenixes?* She’d always kiss his forehead when she said this, *‘They’re reborn again and again.’*
Perhaps he would never be immortal, but that doesn’t mean there’s no such thing as second chances. No such thing as hope.
So, while murders continue to drift against the sky above and flames continue to run along the depths of a once fallen Kingdom, a fierce King is born from ash once more.
—
/r/itrytowrite | 19 | And there she was. A beautiful, buxom knight with long golden hair. She was sent to defeat you and take your kingdom, but instead of killing you she decides to spare you. With a pearly smile, she sheaths her blade and says these words to you: | 34 |
A deer. Prancing across the woods, A form of agility. And a form of weakness. A human hunting, a form of destruction, and a form of kindness.
For when a human hunts they become part of nature. Despite how much humans like to pretend they're not part of that ecosystem they love to destroy they are part of it. And those whom spend their life away from the townsteads and villages. Those who spent their life in the woods hunting. They are the ones that know that.
She was small but quick. Deadly accurate with her bow, and fast with her spear. She eyed the deer. It had been standing proudly, a thing deer often did not do. She placed the arrow gently and aimed for the deer. A clear shot if any.
Release
The arrow bolted through the air barreling towards the deer's chest. It had hit. The deer began running away. The chase had started. For as any good hunter knows, you cannot leave an injured animal for dead. You must save it the cruelty. Put it out of it's pain.
She looked at the hoof marks. Bigger than she expected. And she began to follow. Silently. Carefully. Wooded trees created a strange arch into pathways around the trail. Though it made them easy to follow it worried her. She had heard tales. Of sprites in woods. Ones who didn't take kind to the destruction of their ecosystem. She had heard a story. Of a group of farmers. Who had tore down the land to make room for their livestock. The woods came to life and approached closer. To the land that used to belong to it. And consumed them. Branches made into a maze to madden them. Eaten by their own pigs, a last meal for the humble creatures before they were embraced by the woods. She had heard that story. And more. Forest sprites were not to be trifled with.
Blood. The deer was dripping blood. Something else to follow. Deeper down into the caverned woods. It felt more like a cave at this point. Twisted branches, a lack of sunlight, and the noises of the forest seemed gone. She could not hear the sound of the birds singing. The sound of squirrels on the trees. Or even the worms in the ground. A deathly silence emanated from the woods. Unnatural she thought. But the deer was deeper. And she had to kill that deer. That deer was suffering. She could feel it's pain. Or atleast that's what she always said when something like this came up. It helped her.
More blood. But the hoof prints they're gone. Replaced by a new trail. But the same blood following it. Paws. A direwolf. Confused she followed. The blood was coming from the same thing making the footprints. It didn't make sense. She didn't know why she kept following. She didn't kill other hunters. She respected them. What they did. But she felt urged to follow.
A riverbed seemed to spring into a perfect circle. She could see the small island at the center, the river branching off on both sides of it. She saw the blood at the small shoreline. She jumped into the water and swam across. The currents were not too rough for swimming, but that does not mean they were forgiving.
She was so tired. But that animal. Whatever it was. It was hurting. She had to help it. She continued onto the small island. A strange was at the center. Antlers like a deer, paws like a wolf, a head of a jaguar. And standing on two legs. Like a human. She froze. A forest sprite. What had she done? She shot a forest sprite.
It reached its long arm forward. The branches around it moved with it.
"Hunter." It grumbled and mouthed in a distorted voice. Blood spilled from its mouth.
She rushed towards it. An instinct that one would typically find completely unnatural. She held the creature. Grabbing medication from her satchel she managed to force it into the Sprite's mouth.
"Please don't die, please don't die."
It stared at her. A wooden branch that called itself the creatures arm began to wrap around her. She didn't feel the need to scream. For some reason she knew this creature did not mean harm.
The branches tangled around her. Like a warm embrace. Soon enough she found herself completely surrounded in branches.
She fell asleep in those warm branches. And before long, she awoken. To arms like branches, and antlers atop her head. She felt the woods. Those sounds she couldn't hear. She heard them. All of them. For whatever hunts the sprite becomes the new one. Before her it was a jaguar, and before that a wolf, and even before that it was simple deer, eating the grass of the woods. She can recall those lives now. As well as ones thousands of years before.
And she felt a duty to this forest. | 10 | A Great Forest Spirit finds itself being stalked by a young hunter while it’s in its animal form. The Spirit leads the hunter through all the magic groves and dark places. It eventually leads the hunter to its Sacred Cave where it decides to reward the hunter for their diligence. | 27 |
"Ave Draconis Imperator!"
I let out a beam of rushing azure energy from my mouth as I roared towards the stars, such was its intensity and luminosity that the hundred kilometers wide city and all its denizens was cast in the shadow of of its light, visible across the entirety of this half of the planet
As I took to the skies with my six wings of solid obsidian, I felt it.
Their expectations. Their hopes and dreams. Of wishes and prayers that flow throughout their generations.
All laid at my feet.
At my summit, my zenith, my hour of glory...only one thought ever so _gnawed_ at my consciousness.
_What the Hades?_
/
Yet another disgraced Meister prostrated himself at the gate of my mountain Observatory-Fortress.
I willed the two hundred meters tall and thirty-five meter thick magic-retardant Blackmarble gate to bury its full length into the ground, and willed it back to its place after he crossed over.
I gathered my Soul Energy into a point smaller than an iris of a fly's eyes, and collapsed the energy further into a void-esque orb smaller than a mortal's eyes can see, and gave it some rocks that which grinded together to form an accretion disk, before teleporting the new light source to our newest refugee.
...So he does not accidently walk over one of many cliff edges because this cave was originally designed for magic users who can fly. And admittedly renovations are taking awhile due to the sheer scale of our abode.
"AHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhh!"
_*AN INTRUDER?*_
As I teleport to save my newest charge, I ready my breath of exploding fire-lightning...
To witness the fool poking his light source, which immediately sucked his finger in.
I sighed before detaching his arm, less his entire body gets absorbed. His arm stump, formerly a fountain of his life essence, glowed in white and silver before it restored itself.
"Thank the Gods!"
"Flattered that you think so high of me, scholar."
"Oh, you must be the Dragon LORD MY GODS IS THAT A DEMON-AHHH?!!" he cut off as I lifted him with my mind so he may stare into my now blazing violet eyes.
"MY FOREHEAD VEINS HAVE NOT HAD SUCH EXERCISE IN CENTURIES YOU UNGRATEFUL HAIRLESS MONKEY."
"W-w-w-what?"
"FIRST, YOU TAKE THE MOST OBVIOUS ROUTE TO MY OBSERVATORY, LEADING THOSE SUPERSTITIOUS ZEALOTS DIRECTLY TO ME AND ALL MY CHARGES."
"WHAT?!"
"THE BISHOP AND THEIR POOR CONSCRIPTED SAPS WHICH I LITERALLY HAD TO DISINTEGRATE SO THE ENTIRE IMPERIAL ARMY WOULD NOT STORM THIS PLACE."
The fool then dared to hide his eyes behind his whitening black hair. I willed his gaze to remain locked to mine.
My veins glowed azure as my eyes possibly literally stared into his soul.
"AND THEN, YOU DECIDED TO LITERALLY DEFECATE ON MY VERY EXPENSIVE BLACKMARBLE GATE JUST BECAUSE IT OPENED.
His eyebrows buried themselves into his scalp.
"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD AND EXPENSIVE IT IS TO ACQUIRE THIS MUCH BLACKMARBLE? LET ALONE ENTIRELY OF CELESTIAL GRADE? I AM JUST GLAD YOU DID NOT URINATE UPON MY SNOWSTONE FLOORS. FOR A MAGICAL MATERIAL IT STAINS AT RECORD SPEED.
"AND NOW I AM WHAT. A DEMON? FOR GIVING YOU SHELTER, HEALING, AND A LIGHT SOURCE YOU ARE TOO STUPID TO USE WITHOUT ACCIDENTLY OFF-ING YOURSELF?"
"But you literally are a gigantic exploding-lightning vomiting dragon! That is entirely midnight black across its form!"
"I AM LITERALLY CALLED THE _DRAGON_ LORD OF THE SEVEN SUMMITS, AS IN THIS ENTIRE MOUNTAIN RANGE AND ALL ITS SURROUNDINGS. EMPHASIS ON DRAGON. FOR THE STARS SAKE, THERE LITERALLY IS A PORTRAIT OF ME RIGHT BEHIND THE GATE WHICH I KNOW YOU LOOKED AT. AND YOU DO NOT LOOK SO AETHESTHICALLY PLEASING EITHER, YOU INSUFFICIENTLY EVOLVED EMACIATED MONKEY."
The guilt on his face did not abate me.
"IN MY THIRTY FIVE CENTURIES OF LIFE, YOU ARE BY FAR THE MOST ANNOYING AND BLIND PERSON THAT I HAVE EVER SAVED. I HAVE MET LITERALLY COMPLETELY BLIND PEOPLE WHO SHOW MORE AWARENESS FOR THEIR SURROUNDINGS THEN YOU DID RIGHT HERE."
"..."
"AND THEN TO TOP OFF THIS IMPERIAL BANQUET OF UNINTELLIGENCE, YOU DECIDED TO STICK YOUR FINGER INTO SOMETHING YOU NEVER SEEN BEFORE AND IS GIVING OFF POWER. AND NOW HERE WE ARE."
"..."
I took a deep breath as I slid my right palm across my face, before letting him down to the Snowstone flooring.
"Listen, just wait here for about three to eight hours, someone will come to pick you up. If by the ninth hour no one comes, pour your Soul Energy into the object I gave you and I will ensure someone comes. That someone will not be me however. No offense but considering your first impression I rather to see less of you."
"...fair enough."
/
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!" I roared as I surveyed my realm from my Observatory's highest tower.
"What is so comical, my Emperor?"
"Just remembering our first encounter, Senator Vitruvius Sojournus."
"...how long do you plan to hold that over me?"
"How long do magic using humans live again?"
///
Note: It's been a while since I wrote something. | 43 | As a dragon who hoarded knowledge you started whith books, which allowed you to collect craftsmen and researchers, who require more maintenance and then things just started to spiral out of control from there you know. | 129 |
I splash water from the local river over my scales, ‘wake up wake up’. I shook water off my scales and head back to my cave. “You’re going to walk in, look at your empty bed, and chuckle at your hung over mind” I said aloud, desperately trying to convince myself. I walk in, look at my bed, and the human is still there. “AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” and they’re awake. Great. I grab my head, the screaming doing nothing for my hangover.
”Will you SHUT UP!” I growl loudly, the screaming stops. I open my eyes and stare at the human in my bed. She’s, thankfully, fully clothed. I shudder what might’ve happened otherwise. I fight back some nausea. “Who are you? And why in Draco’s name are you in my bed?” I said, pointedly ignoring the fact that said human shouldn’t exist. “I- I- I don-“ It stutters. I growl with impatience, “I don’t know! I was in bed, my mom kissed me good night and I wake up here!” She begins bawling, “I want mommy!” And it’s a child, i am doubly thankful she’s fully clothed.
I resist the urge to yell at her, she’s clearly scared out of her scales and my growling won’t help. I slowly make my way closer as the girl curls up, grabbing her head in terror. I lay down next to her and sweep her into my arms, “Now now, calm down cub. No one’s gonna hurt you, we‘ll find your mommy. It’s gonna be ok” I whisper comfort into the girls ear for several minutes until she finally calms down.
She looks up at me, teary eyed. “You’re not gonna eat me?” she asked. I blink, “what? Why would I?” The girl sniffles, “Daddy said that if a dragon saw me that they’d eat me up.”
That, is actually a reasonable conclusion. I know a few gluttons who’d see this girl as little more than a once in a lifetime snack. “Well, I’m not that type of dragon,” I assure her, “Beside, you’re far to small” I add, nuzzling her belly. “Not even a tiny bite you,” I finish, the girl giggles and wipes her eyes. “You’ll help me find my mommy?” She asked, I nod. “Of course” I say with a closed mouth grin, which is mostly a twitch of my cheeks really. Naturally that is when my stomach decided to demand breakfast. The girls eyes widen in surprise as what may as well be thunder fills the cavern.
“After breakfast,” I add. “For both of us.” The girl smiles, “ok, but what’s breakfast?” I chose to ignore that. “May I have your name young lady?” I ask, avoiding contemplating another uncomfortable topic. The existence of humans, more than one at least was quite enough. “Marian!” She says happily. “Well, let me show you what breakfast is Marian.”
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
Huh… My hangover’s gone, what luck! | 299 | In dragon society, humans are believed to be mythical creatures who use advanced technology instead of magic. You woke up today with a mild hangover and a human in your bed | 1,450 |
The man in front of me puffed out his chest and raised his metal stick. Around him, the pantheon took in a collective breath. I didn't really feel like reacting, even when he brandished his pointy metal thing at me. Right, it was a sword.
"And what is your domain, little god?" He roared. I stared down at my fingernails, buffing out a tiny spot on my pointer finger.
"Who, me? I'm the god of apathy, I guess. Don't care much." Stretching my arms over my head, I yawned. It might be time for a nap. Introductions were boring and the pantheon was vast. He stared at me, then looked back at the rest of the gods. I think he didn't quite know what to do with himself.
It had been a while since we'd reached out and snatched someone to be a paladin. The humans had the idea of paladins quite wrong. They thought the person dedicated themselves to the god and hopefully, the god accepted them. It was a twisted sort of view. What actually happened was a person was snatched, brought here and then had to become a paladin. The only choice was to *which* god.
Like I said. Boring.
Our democratically elected leader stood up, peering down at the human. We used to just have a default leader, but you got to move with the times. Now we held elections. I never really voted; never really cared to. Apathy, man. It's a hell of an emotion.
"You must choose one of us to help you with the rest of your heroics. One to dedicate your life to. To help your choice, here is a highlight reel of your most wonderful deeds." I rolled my eyes. He was a pompous git our elected leader. If only there was something I could have done to stop him from being elected.
In the center of the room, a small orb manifested, growing to the size of a large pillow. Images played across the screen. The man running into a burning building to rescue the people inside. The man charging towards the enemy, bravely leading people into battle. The man crying over spilt milk—all right, I made the last one up. Every 'wonderful deed' was the same old thing. The gods really had a type.
Staring into the ball, I could see the man's face change. But instead of pride, there was something else there. I had expected pride. This expression was confusing, and I wasn't meant to feel confused. The man didn't look sad, mad, or happy. Nothing expected. He just looked tired. The point of his sword fell to the ground. Glancing around at us, he asked the question they all do.
"And what will each of you be able to help me with?"
The answers were all the usual. Fame, power, and wealth. Strength, long life, the thrill of doing the right thing. My eyes were drifting closed by the time he finally looked at me.
"And you?" I jolted awake at the question. After all, no human in all our long history had ever asked for what I would offer. Staring at him, remembering the change in his face, remembering the sword dropping, seeing the grey in his hair, the lines on his face, I smiled.
"I can help you say 'no'."
————————
The large meeting place of the gods is empty now. Well, empty except for me. I'm here, sitting in my usual spot. The viewing ball is hanging in front of me, cued to the present. It's focused on the man, down in his earthly home.
There are two men in his house, begging him to come aid them in a war. His wife is standing there, and I can see the horror in her eyes. She knows what his answer will be. Or would have been. Reaching forward, I laid a hand on the ball, sending my will down to the man. And even though the other men plead, he says no.
Another scene, another ask. This mission isn't dangerous, isn't too arduous, and he looks tempted. So I hold back; let him make his own decision. I don't always have to intervene.
It's strange being a paladin's god. Especially when they chose you because of the negatives, instead of the positives. But you know... I don't really care. | 199 | "And what is your domain, little God?" "Oh, I'm the god of apathy, I guess. Don't really care." | 338 |
"By God, this is a fantastic office!" Calvin exclaimed as he walked into the only office on the top floor of the Department of Minor Drama.
"Make the most of the view; we expect to see your work making its way through the community by the beginning of next week," Director Smith retorted. "I'll only be out of town for a few months, but I trust you to keep this place running smoothly until I get back."
"Absolutely, sir, yes, sir!" Calvin said quickly. He was excited. It had only been a year since he began working for the department, and his work had already brought him the attention of the Director. This was his chance to really make an impact.
Over the next few weeks, Calvin worked non-stop to design the perfect minor dramas to infiltrate and annoy the city. It wasn't that the city was being punished or that the citizens needed to be kept in line; no, it was simply part of the entertainment requested in the annual citizens voting log. The citizens were bored with daily life and requested things to get livened up.
Calvin looked away from his computer screen and stared out the perfectly clear window that took the place of the wall.
Glancing back and forth from his computer and the skyscrapers across the way, he had an idea. He pushed the intercom button on his desk, calling his secretary. "Gladys, can you check the cost of housing 1000 pigeons above each of the three most trafficked areas of the city? Also, check to see which buildings overhang those streets." Smiling to himself, he imagined citizens sprinting across the street or down the walkway, trying to avoid the white excrement of 1000 birds overhead. Boy, would that be a fun sight to see from his office window!
Another project he had been working on was called Operation Telephone. He had already tested it out on his unsuspecting neighbors, and it had been a big hit. The intelligence office located in the Department of Minor Drama had two roles in this operation. The first team was to spread outlandish rumors to select members of each neighborhood. As the community began chatting more about these rumors, Team 2 would put the rumors into action. Calvin's neighbor had overheard an undercover agent telling a child over dinner that if the child didn't eat her tomatoes, tomatoes would rain down from the sky, and the cloud of tomatoes would follow her around until she ate her meal. As the child refused to eat her dinner, a plane flew undetected overhead and shot tomatoes down at the ground. It took about 15 minutes, but once the child ate her food, the raining tomatoes miraculously stopped. Of course, Calvin's neighbor immediately told her needlepoint club about the event, and the story quickly spread.
The minor dramas only became more dramatic as the days progressed. The internet was shut down in the city for 48 hours one day, and the next day, a handful of actors were hired to run around stealing purses. Of course, the contents were "recovered" in trash bins later. Some of the local businesses were even paid to get in on the drama. The only liquor store in the city required 300 signatures from random people before a person could even buy a case of beer. | 72 | In the new utopia people find no meaningful struggle. You're an agent of the newly founded department for Minor Drama, and it's your job to keep people struggling (for their own happiness of course). | 511 |
When you were born without an obvious power, it was a tragedy in your family. A lineage of top tier supervillains that seemed to have ended with you. But then came the plot. you could see it, forming right before you. You know who the main characters are in each and every story, how it’s all been predetermined. It’s beautiful.
As you grew older though, it became less beautiful and more annoying. You watched again and again as your father, Nightmare, fought his rival, Dream Catcher, over and over. Have victory stolen by what you could see was nothing but plot armor. A laser blast would adjust mid flight, a trap would close just a moment too late, and punches would land just shy of where they were intended.
You had had enough. Enough of this bullshit system, enough of this world with arbitrary winners and losers. You’d would even the playing field once in for all. You spoke with your father but he refused to listen, ”plot armor? this isn’t a novel boy”. you ignore him, biding your time when you would show him, show them all the lie they have been living. you strip your father first of his plot armor, the power that had been guiding his shots to miss and his punches to be diverted for years.
Then Dream Catcher comes in the nick of time to stop father’s ritual, one that would give him the power to bring his nightmares to life. As if being able to cause waking nightmare hallucinations wasn’t enough. The charged at each other but you intervened, tripping your father. He falls on his face and tumbles into the hero. Hmmm… seems and consequences you directly cause bypass plot armor. Good to know.
you enter the ritual circle and begin chanting. Dream Catcher tries to get up but your father punches him in the face. The two tumble, but by removing his plot armor you have given your father the ability to bypass other’s. They seem to be like magnetic fields that way, you need two in order for them to interact. The result is that for the first time in his life, your father is fighting Dream Catcher on even terms, and he’s winning!
Or not. You can see your father’s plot armor returning, Dream Catcher gaining the upper hand. It seems that removing plot armor creates a void. Other plot armors fill that void up in time. Dream Catcher finally throws your now unconscious father to the side and faces you, but he is far too late. With a flourish you finish the chant and a massive flow of power enters you. The hero’s plot armor seems to leave Dream Catcher for a moment, trying to stop the flood but it is futile.
you laugh wickedly, “well we’ll well,” you begin to walk down, several nightmarish beast forming around you, “It seems to me that the end is nigh for you, Dream Catcher” “It’s not over yet Speedy!” your eye twitched, it’s supposed to be SPD, sleep paralysis demon, but my father mispronounced it and the wiki villain page has never been corrected. “I always hated that name” you state firmly, removing the plot armor on your new pets, “I think I’ll be called Fatale Fatume!” you laugh maniacally, “For I will be your **FATAL DESTINY!**”
Dream Catcher is the first to fall, mauled by beasts from the dark recesses of your mind. many follow for all have relied heavily on their plot armor. Believing that if they try hard enough that justice will prevail as it always has. Villains everywhere want to know your secret. you’ve been hired, kidnapped, even had several assassins after you. In the end though, they all relied on the plot and it failed them. Time and again. For you have broken destiny itself. You are **FATALE FATUME!** | 47 | You're wanted by all the factions in this story. You're the only one who has this power, that defies the rules that make this world happen. You can kill anyone, even the ones with plot armor. | 131 |
Liv had only two goals – lure in prey and absorb the mana of life. The pure energy creatures released upon death strengthened her walls and traps. A fraction of that would also return to the one that created her, the goddess of chaos. Sometimes, she would allow small creatures to hide within her walls. They would bring stronger beings that would then exterminate the smaller creatures.
*It's been a good harvest this season.*
There had been a scuffle between two groups earlier today, but the fight had not been one-sided. Two of the larger creatures had perished alongside the hoard of smaller creatures. She shuddered as the fallen prey sank into the soil within her cave network. This time, there was a greater surge of energy as she absorbed their bodies. And something changed.
*Atrix Vitali? Why should I care about a random human?*
Liv paused as that thought floated through her consciousness. Those larger creatures did not have names before today. Nor did she have a concept of their species, or the species of the smaller creatures either. The humans called them goblins.
*Atrix Vitali, Malyn Sterling, both humans. As well as all the members of the Blood Snake tribe. Which one of you was it?*
To her, they had all been food. Yet one of them must have imbued her with this new knowledge. Someone’s energy had tasted different.
*And there it is again. Taste? Why would I need such a concept?*
Her prey had already turned to energy, so the source of the oddity was forever lost to her. But the new surge of energy granted her knowledge. And with it, she created an avatar.
“How odd.” Liv looked down at her hands.
They had a copper hue, much like some of the humans that had visited her dungeon in the past.
“Was it one of you that gave me this troublesome knowledge?” Her form shrank as her skin took on a green tint. “Or was it one of you?”
The answers eluded her. Though she continued her usual feeding pattern, she began to wander her halls in her new avatar. It was a strange sensation, but one she grew accustomed to quickly enough.
*Some of these goblins are apparently violent enough to chase after ‘me’ as well.*
She began incorporating her avatar into her dungeon. A smaller human form tended to work well as lures for other humans. The same trick worked for the goblins and even some animal packs. None ever survived the traps. But a few weeks after she had absorbed that odd group, food began to grow scarce.
*How troublesome. The wildlife outside doesn’t seem to have changed. That only leaves me as the cause.*
She tried reducing her luring efforts, but few creatures entered anymore. Her energy reserves began to dwindle, and for the first time, she felt a twinge of fear.
*Humans and goblins can starve. Can I starve?*
Her dungeon walls felt as strong as ever. Only a nagging sensation suggested she had not absorbed enough energy. With no creatures entering, Liv could only sit in the central room of her dungeon and ponder the issue. But before any answers came to her, something odd entered her dungeon. She turned her attention toward the entrance.
“Boss! That brat ran into the cursed cave!” A lanky man had stopped just outside the boundary of her influence.
“Dammit! Who told her about that cave?” A larger man slammed his fist against a tree.
“She must’ve heard it from one of the merchants we passed. What do we do, Boss?”
The group of humans deliberated for a moment before the larger one spoke again. “We go in, grab her, and leave. No lingering. If you see anything weird, we run immediately.”
One of the members of the group glanced towards Liv’s dungeon. “But, Boss, you’ve heard the rumors.”
The ‘Boss’ growled and replied, “I know! Some class four beast must’ve moved into it. But we can’t wait for the exterminators. That brat will be long dead by the time they arrive.”
Liv grew pleased as they rushed in after the anomaly.
As they entered, one of them shouted, “I see her, Boss!” and drew a longbow.
There was a hiss of an arrow followed by a sharp cry. The anomaly fell to the ground, an arrow embedded in its shoulder. It continued to crawl away from the group.
“You’ve caused us a lot of problems, brat.” The leader of the group stomped toward the anomaly. “We got her, boys. Get in here.”
When the last member of the group entered the dungeon, Liv collapsed the entrance. Rocks fell with a rumble, almost drowning out the shouts of the humans. Even through the darkness, the smaller creature tried to crawl deeper into the cave. As the rocks settled, the humans argued amongst themselves.
“What the hell was that?”
“Cave in, Boss. Dunno how it happened!”
“I knew this place was cursed!”
“Well, light a torch then. I’m not letting our payday get away!”
Liv concentrated for a moment, reshaping the path around the group. It was a poor trap – too dangerous and blatant enough to warn away future prey. But an idea had already begun to form. One of the men took a step, causing the floor to crumble away. They screamed as they fell to their death, impaled by sharp rocks fifty feet below.
*Now, to secure a way out of this location.*
The floors closed again as she began absorbing the humans. With a thought, lights flared into existence along the walls. The tiny anomaly flinched, its eyes widening in fear. She appeared female, though Liv still could not discern her species. So, Liv materialized before the girl.
“Hello there, little morsel. Would you mind telling me what’s going on beyond my domain? If your answer is satisfactory, I’ll grant you a boon.”
The girl only whimpered in response before nodding.
...
I'm sure I've read at least two garbage light novels with a friendly dungeon core. So I did a different spin on the concept.
If you're interested in my works, the archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile.
Thanks for reading. | 31 | You are a dungeon core, a being of magic and stone that forms a dungeon and lures people in to kill them and devour their mana. But, in what is an anomaly for your kind, you seem to have developed a conscience. Which, unfortunately, makes doing your job much harder... | 95 |
When Henry won an online match of Magic: the gathering against a user called 'Azaelathon', he assumed that they were just your average card game nerd. Their deck was interesting, looking like something a pro would use, but it didn't scream 'big deal'.
Now that a rift to hell itself had opened up in his living room, and a very scary and very tall woman was standing in said living room, he was reconsidering that opinion. This appeared to be an advanced card game nerd.
"Mortal." opened the demoness, who Henry just assumed was actually called Azaelathon. That's a demon name, right? "How dare you defeat me in Magic..."
"Uhm my name is Henry, if you don't mind?" Henry said, suddenly realising he had just cut her off.
Azaelathon glared at him for a moment, her red eyes seeming to sear through him, before she corrected herself. "Henry, how dare you beat me in my favourite game..." She paused, seemingly for nothing but tension "without telling me your technique!" she exclaimed, suddenly appearing a lot less threatening.
"Oh... that's why you're here? if i was being honest, i assumed you were gonna kill me, and then drag my soul to hell."
"Of course not! I am just interested in learning how you got so good at this! I've spent the entire lifetime of the game learning it, and I've only just been defeated."
Henry glanced at his watch "I have some time before i need to get to work, i guess i can talk about it for a while. Take a seat." Henry sat down at the table, Azaelathon awkwardly walking over to the couch and sitting on it, still towering over Henry even when sat down.
for half an hour, they discussed the card game, from their strategies, to card composition, to just what they found fun about the game.
Then the conversation moved from Magic: the gathering, to other card games like Yu-gi-oh, it turning out that the queen of demons was apparently, the biggest nerd to ever live.
Eventually, Henry stood up, after realising he had to get to work. "Right, I'd love to chat some more, but i have to leave!"
Azaelathon laughed, standing up and walking over to the doorway. "Or, and do tell me if this piques your interest, you could come with me to hell?" she asked, seeming less of a threat and more of a genuine proposition.
Henry scratched the back of his neck nervously "Can i not though? i kind of have a life here. I have friends, parents, my boss will kill me if i don't show up in the next hour."
Azaelathon laughed "Work? you won't have to work in hell, dear."
"Dear?"
"Well I'm the unbeatable queen Azaelathon" said the demoness, confirming her name "I can't just not marry the person who finally beat me in 30 years of playing the game!"
Henry stopped in his tracks, stunned by what she had just said. Slowly regaining his mental faculties, he replied "...Ok, so this is a very generous offer, and i am very much tempted to take it. You are a very nice lady, but i may have to think this over. I kinda have to say goodbye to everyone."
"Tell you what: you come with me, we get married, you can visit earth anytime you feel like it, and i don't reduce this world to fire and war."
"Ah, well that would solve all of my problems, and I do love my hometown to not be burned to the ground, so it's a fair proposition. I'll accept, on the condition that you meet my parents. Though you're gonna need a disguise, they're religious."
"Oh nonsense, no one will now I'm a demon!"
"...Right, about that, you're like seven feet tall and you're eyes blaze with infernal fire, that might be a dead giveaway."
"I'll wear contacts, and say I'm from... the Netherlands, i heard Dutch people are supposed to be tall."
Henry shrugged "Good enough, guess we'll get going then." Henry then took one step closer to the rift, before asking "Will this hurt, walking through that tear in reality?"
Azaelathon shrugged "I have no idea, let's go! I have a wedding to plan." | 60 | You, a lowly peasant, accidentally and unknowingly defeat the "undefeatable" Demon Queen in an online video game contest. Now she's threatening war with the human nations unless you're turned over to her as her fiancé | 92 |
You are sitting at a bar. Your mood reflects that of the weather outside. The dark rain clouds are as blue as your feel. This summer seems to be uncommonly wet, thwarting the predictions of meteorologist. But you like it, it helps you with your reflections, and boy, there are things to reflect.
You try to control yourself, but your thoughts keep circling back. For example, just now you were going through your day, and thought of that silly moment when one of your employees accidentally called you father instead of boss. A father, yea you would not mind being a father. She would have been a great mother, but it’s too late now. She is not yours anymore, she is happy with someone else now…
Your brooding is interrupted by the doors opening. A cute brunet with a tiny mole above her left eyebrow enters through the door completely wet from the rain. Your eyes meet for a moment, and you recognize a playful sparkle. However, your soul is in no state to accept anyone new, so your eyes return to the glass.
You were never good at relationships. At first your affection was met with deaf ears. Then there were passions that would quickly turn to heartbreak. A few lasted long enough to be grounded by the merciless wheels of routine. One even ended with tragedy. One-night stands were easy. To charm a woman, to make her laugh, to make her feel as if she was floating. But to make things last, now that is a mystery to you. You thought you grasped at something… Something close to what you were seeking all along just to lose her… to a stranger.
\- I will have what he is having. – The brunet tells the bartender as she nods into your direction while sitting next to you. – To lock a man’s attention this way it must be special.
Despite your good looks it’s the first time a woman has made the first move.
\- Name is Lina, nice meeting you. – She smiles at you cheekily. – Are you local? I have recently moved…
But the words seem to pass through you. Your gaze again captures the spark in her eyes, and it reminds you of…
\- …Olivia? – … wait no… - Megan?
She responds sounding a bit confused.
\- You must be mistaken, as I just introduced myself, my name is Lina. Is this some new trend for ice breaking. – She laughs.
That spark… It’s always there. Is that what your type is? You feel strangely a drift, as if expanding outside your body. As if looking at yourself from a third person perspective. Did you drink too much or are you losing your grip on reality. You shake your head, to clear this strange feeling but it remains.
\- Oh, no. – Mutters Lina, or was that, Cindy, as she reaches out for bartender. They are both staring at you. Something is a miss though. Should they not be looking towards your body? | 43 | To your disbelief, you discover by chance that all the women you had hook-ups with over the years were actually the same classical goddess in disguise; to complicate things, now that the masquerade has been broken, most people you know in your life have begun to address you as 'father'... | 334 |
Each week, Abigail returned to the clearing in the woods. Humming to herself, she laid her mother’s woven basket at the base of the large tree at the center of the otherwise empty meadow. With a critical eye, she arranged the plump berries and crisp vegetables from the basket into a display that best showed off the quality of her offering. Just as she placed the last perfect strawberry down, the the trees to her right rustled before giving way to a massive form. Gentle eyes gazed down from a long face, flowers blooming from the antlers crowning it’s proud head. A thick gilded mane trailed down its back all the way to a similarly shining tail that brushed the back of its cloven hooves, each easily twice the size of her open hand.
“There you are! I’ve brought you something,” she said, gesturing to the food.
It lowered its head, sniffing gently before picking that perfect strawberry off the top. For a moment, it seemed as if the world stood still before springing back into motion in a riot of color as flowers burst from the ground and the previously green tree was filled with blooms, filling the air with their delicate scent.
Seeing that the creature was occupied, Abigail tiptoed to its rear checking once more that it was paying her no mind. Grabbing the shears from her bag that her father used for the sheep, she carefully clipped five of the golden strands from the tail swishing back and forth. With her prize in hand, Abigail took one final glance back before hurrying away back in to the woods towards home.
When her father returned from the selling the strands at the market with seeds and livestock that night, the family celebrated just as they had each week before since Abigail had first found the creature in the spring. This continued on until the first frosts of fall began and there were no longer enough crops to offer. The second time Abigail returned with no golden strands, her mother cast a lingering look at their empty pantry and thought of their dwindling savings.
“What if you were to offer one of the chickens?” she said, gesturing to the coop outside.
The corners of Abigail’s mouth turned down as she considered. “I don’t think it eats meat, mother.”
“Perhaps not, but there are no other options left to us.”
And so, that following week, Abigail returned to the clearing with a freshly butchered chicken hidden beneath the last of the crop. As the creature began to eat, she carefully reached for the tail but flinched back as the creature’s body became unnaturally still. A shudder rippled through its body before it fell upon what remained of the meal with an intensity Abigail had never seen from the gentle giant. Unsettled, she quickly clipped a few golden strands before fleeing into the woods, taking no notice of the dulled colors and sickly sweet scent of decay filling the clearing.
When she returned again the next week she stopped upon entering the glade, heart jumping as she realized that for the first time, the creature was waiting for her. It’s mane and tail gleamed as brightly as ever, but the dull eyes staring at her and the clumps of fur beginning to fall from its heaving sides added to her discomfort. She did not have even a moment to place down her basket before it was upon her, bodily pushing her aside to consume the meat that now filled the basket. Her hands were shaking so badly she could scarcely hold on to the shears, cursing under her breath as they fell to the ground. A quick glance at the beast revealed it had nearly finished, and her blood ran cold as she saw one glassy bloodshot eye staring at her. In desperation, she grabbed on to several of the strands and tore them from the creature, who was so concerned with its meal that it seemed not to notice the pain.
Returning home that night, she begged with her parents to make them see that returning to that glade would be a death sentence. But they remained firm, the thought of empty stomachs and starving livestock keeping them firm against their daughter’s tears.
The day Abigail was to return to the clearing, the forest seemed abnormally quiet, no bird song or quiet chittering of animals to be heard. As she entered the glade, a weight lifted off her shoulders as she saw the creature was not there waiting for her. Hurrying forward, she left the basket at the base of the tree before turning to run home, only to halt with a cut off shriek as she came face to face with the beast. Hollowed eyes gazed unblinkingly at her, an unidentifiable ooze sliding from the sockets where the soft brown eyes had once rested. The skin of its long face shifted disconcertingly and Abigail was transfixed in the silence.
Drawn by the movement of that skin, her hand moved forward almost of its own accord to touch the dull fur. It instantly sloughed off under fingers, falling to the ground and revealing the mass of maggots squirming over the muscles with white shocks of its skull peeking through. Screaming, she turned and ran for the trees, but only made it a few steps before a colossal weight hit her back and she was knocked to the ground unable to breath through the pressure. Heart beating so quickly Abigail was convinced it would simply burst, she turned her head to the side, only to shut her eyes as a fleshy mass fell from the maw now open above her head, landing on the side of her face before it twitched and slid off and out of view. Gleaming dull teeth hung above her cheek, and she had but one moment to regret ever coming back, before those teeth descended and she knew no more. | 15 | write something that starts as a wholesome childrens story with a horrifying ending that would give Stephen King nightmares | 41 |
"It's a chapel!" he yelled at me. "It wouldn't be too good for the company if its CEO died, would it?"
"Answer." He went silent for a few seconds.
"IT'S A DARN CHAPEL!"
"It used to be," I said. "They lose their effect over the years. For this one, hundreds. I will be fine."
"You may come out alive, but if they notice, our days are over. The deal is over. We lose everything." my advisor said in a troubled voice.
In this culture, vampires are not permitted to hold leadership positions. It is widely believed that, despite them being harmless and friendly to humans, they have an internalized desire to plan ultimate control; which of course isn't true.
"Please, just tell them you can't make it. If Wayne tells you he's not interested in the deal any longer, then so be it. We'll get better opportunities in the future... Surely." He shortly exited the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I grabbed a letter. To Wayne, CEO of Vortex Energy. I apologized for not being there, signed it, stamped it. On the way out, I also tossed it in the garbage.
I wasn't going to pass up on such an opportunity. We've been waiting for ages. We were almost at the point of desperation. We're going bankrupt. It's now or never.
I got ready, grabbed my gloves, and prepared my garlic antidote. Everyone cooks with garlic nowadays. It isn't going to protect me from the smell, but if the worst happens, at least I won't die.
I informed my staff and they got ready as well. I told them not to resist, as the decision had already been made.
We arrived early. For the home owner, uncomfortably early. But not because I'm punctual. I'm never punctual, I'm a vampire. But because I wanted to pressure them into starting the dinner as early as possible, and for this to be over with as soon as possible. If I stuck around till midnight, bad things are going to happen.
Since nothing was ready yet, Wayne insisted we go for a walk and discuss. Fantastic--this is in my favor. If I was going to sit in that rusty old building then I better make sure to be in it for as little time as possible. I can only sit in sunlight for so long as well, though, but thankfully, the sun is setting.
Our company had discovered technology that can revolutionize energy. But we don't have the finances to fund its testing or production. No one except Wayne believed in what our company had achieved. He was willing to partner with us for 2 years as we kickstart production. This was huge for us, and for me. If I could make this project work, it would be the most lucrative business. Yes, I wanted to save the planet and everything, but I also wanted to be rich.
The discussion went well. I had high hopes. But the hardest part hasn't even started yet.
After an hour or so, we are to enter the building. My bones stiffened. At this point, his team had arrived as well. I clench my fists as I step in. I really wanted to express how much I hated the building. It was painful. But I was confident I could handle it for a few hours.
We were sat around a large table; me and my team on one side, Wayne and his on the other. Of all materials, the utensils were made out of silver. I wasn't going to take off my gloves. Suddenly, he got up, pointed to another table to our left and said, "This is the vampire table. The utensils are steel, and the food will be void of any garlic. Feel free to move tables as the food will be served shortly."
"This has to be a trap," I said to myself. "There's no way this is real. He has to be testing me." A few of his team switched. Not all of them were vampires. "If I change tables, it will be extremely disrespectful at best... it's like I don't want to talk to him. He doesn't expect me to do that." I didn't have time to hesitate. This building is getting the best of me. I'm starting to sweat and my vision is blurring. If I smell garlic, I'm going to be on the floor.
"Why don't we all move to the vampire table, so we can all sit together?" I said. "After all, we can eat their food, but the opposite cannot be said."
"Very thoughtful of you," he replied after some consideration. The situation was saved.
The food was very good.
I can't exactly say I liked the man, and I definitely started to rethink whether I really wanted to partner with him. But it was the right thing to do. We went on to sign some papers, shook hands, and parted ways. He didn't find out. But as a vampire myself, I could distinguish some of his employees who were too. They must have been able to tell I was. But vampires don't snitch, right? I hope.
I sigh in relief as I leave the building, 11:44PM.
We have secured the victory. | 751 | You are the CEO of a successful energy company. You’re invited to a business dinner, and if the deal goes well, it could revolutionize energy as we know it. Only one problem. Garlic’s in the food, utensils are silver and it’s held in an old chapel. And you’re a vampire. | 3,078 |
“Thank you for calling Call of Cthulu Internet and Cellular!”
“Hi, my name is Rachel, and my internet just went dow-“
“We are currently assisting other customers. Please hold for our next available cultist.”
Rachel sighed as the demonic, chilling hold music began to come through the phone. She’d had this ISP ever since she moved here three years ago, and they had some of the spottiest internet she’d ever experienced. Not even Comcast went down this often!
She looked over at her Wi-Fi router that she rented from the company. The antennae were all curved, looking vaguely like tentacles coming off of the box. The blinking red and green lights were incomprehensible to everyone except the company’s workers. Rachel’s cousin worked in IT, and she once asked him to take a look when her internet went down while he was staying over. After a day of intensely studying the router and the guides she’d downloaded previously, he left her house mumbling something about “demonic recursion” and checked himself into a psychiatric ward.
A recording from the phone: “we appreciate your business! At Call of Cthulu, we put our blood, sweat, and other sacred fluids into making this company its best. After the call, we would appreciate if you took part in our customer satisfaction survey.”
The hold music again. Rachel’s dog whimpered and walked out of the room, unable to stand hearing it anymore. Rachel waited patiently. Sometimes this took up to an hour.
“We have updated our terms of service. Due to a recent federal law, we may no longer accept firstborn children as a form of payment. Donations of fresh blood, black candles, and other such alternative payment options will still be available for the time being. Of course, money is always acceptable.”
Rachel had just turned to make her breakfast when the ringtone started sounding through the phone. Then a voice from a world beyond human understanding spoke, seeming to come from everywhere in the room: *“HELLO. THANK YOU FOR CALLING. WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO ASK ABOUT TODA-”*
Rachel cut him off. “You know very well! Every time I call this company you somehow know exactly what my issue is before I have to say anything! Out with it!”
There was a pause. Then *“AH YES, MISS RACHEL PEREZ, YOUR INTERNET WENT DOWN FIVE MINUTES AGO.”*
“Yes. And if you know, why don’t you get someone out here to fix it already! Stop wasting my time!”
*“TIME. SUCH A MORTAL CONCEPT. VERY WELL, SOMEONE WILL BE WITH YOU SHORTL-“*
“Just send the damn tech!”
There was silence on the phone for a second. Then the voice said: *“OUR TECH IS ON THE WAY. WE WOULD APPRECIATE IT IF YOU TOOK PART IN OUR CUSTOMER SATISFACTION SUR-“*
“Thank you, have a nice day,” Rachel blurted out, then hung up. The silence in the house was deafening compared to the voice and the hold music.
Comcast was better, she decided. At least she understood that evil. | 276 | Cthulu has been summoned. And the first thing he does is... found a telecommunications company. This is the "Call of Cthulu". | 1,297 |
'Young Adventurer,
if you're reading this, you've completed your very first quest. Job well done!
Your foster father will be very proud.
He put a lot on the line to look after you, and he owes money to me and my party.
In the contract, it stated that if he could not return the money by your 18th, he'll have to work for us.
Don't worry, he's safe. We're putting him to tough work, but he's doing it with a smile on his face.
He doesn't mind what you do with your money.
But I will tell you that if you can give us the money owed, we will have no reason to keep him.
It is entirely your choice. Please meet us at Harring Park, whether or not you pay.
Hope to see you soon.'
&#x200B;
My whole party shows up to meet the mysterious writer of the letter, and for the first time in months, I see my father. He looks worn out, but otherwise healthy. We all pitch in the money owed, and my father is released. He simply whispers "It was the only way I could look after you. I have no regrets. And I'm very proud of the person you are today." | 33 | The adventurer who saved and adopted you when you were young went missing. You set off on a quest to find them and join a party of adventurers. The first job goes well. As a reward, your party receives a pouch of gold, and a letter addressed specifically to you. | 83 |
The cell was a bright white, the lights above rained down blinking methodically to keep me awake. I'd been counting the days since my arrival, I counted the same way I taught Hailey.
"Start with your fingers, end with your toes, and then-" I said.
"End with your nose!" she yelled out.
I did that many times over now and if one more nose day happened, I'd never hear the end of it.
Clarissa visited weeks ago when the guards deemed it safe, she gave me the date of the tournament. She said that Hailey's team was good this year, great even. She said they'd probably make it all the way to the finals and that I should try to see them at least once.
"I'm a little wrapped up here, Clar." I said to her. I was physically wrapped up too, in tailored psychiatric digs.
"I don't give a shit, Johnny." she said. "It's your daughter, find a way to see her at least once before you die here."
She left and I waited.
The lights flickered on and off, they pumped the room with some kind of chemical or maybe it was a hero on the other side of the walls. They kept me awake, any time I felt the sleep come closer, I felt electricity run across my body. I needed the sleep and they wouldn't let me have it. I could feel how many people were nearby, not a lot. It had to be that way. They rotated them out every two hours before they could feel any fatigue at all.
They had someone watching the guy that was supposed to be watching the guy watching me.
"No room for error," I'd heard.
I waited, the minutes passed even though they felt like hours under the lights. They pumped all the food and water they gave me with drugs, caffeine, anything to keep me awake. Powers were weird, there were a lot of powers that couldn't really be explained. Powers that didn't fit the conventional mold of being strong or fast or shooting out beams of lasers.
Powers like mine.
The sleep felt closer this time and I felt no sign of electricity until I did and it hurt, but I waited again. I counted again, I had two days left until Hailey's game. I wanted to see her.
Two days passed. The sleep was there this time, finally. I reached out to it and felt it before the electricity could reach me. I closed my eyes and I was gone.
I slept, it felt like days to me, but in reality only a few seconds had passed. It was enough and so I reached out further, past the first and second guards. I reached for the third and grasped him. It took a second to get my bearings, but I pulled out his gun and aimed backwards where a fourth and final guard was watching. He fell.
"I only have a few minutes," I said aloud. It felt good to talk about even if it wasn't my own voice.
I walked forward, I shot the second guard. The first guard came seconds later, a hero. He had a gun, blue lines of electricity ran throughout his entire body and through the gun too.
"Plague," the hero said. "How did yo-"
I took control of his throat and his arms, I made him stop talking and shoot. I felt the fire of the bullets and left the body to control his fully. I aimed the gun and shot myself in the arm, feeling the fire again.
The alarms sounded and I ran.
The first wave of guards, a mix of mercenaries and heroes came rushing in.
"Electro!" one of them said to me. "Stop right now."
I stopped.
"He fucking shot me," I said, showing them my arm. "He left through one of the guards, I stopped him from entering me with my power."
"Shoot him," one of the guards said.
They fired, but it was too late. I'd already grasped more of them. The chaos that ensued made for a good distraction and I jumped from body to body as they fired and fought into each other, not knowing who or where I was.
Outside the prison, I had to jump many times before I finally found a civilian. A mom pushing a baby stroller. I took her mind and the baby cried as I did.
"Your baby has powers if it could sense what I did," I told her inside her mind. "You should get him tested so he doesn't hurt himself."
"Please don't kill me," she begged from inside her own mind.
"Ma'am," I replied. "I just want to see my daughter. Help me see her and nothing will happen to you."
She believed me and so she told me where she lived, the code to her house, she let me make a few phone calls from her phone, and she even offered to drive me to Hailey's game. I refused, I couldn't trust her. I fed her child, changed his diaper, put him down for a nap.
"How old is your daughter?" she asked, still trapped inside her own mind.
"17." I replied.
"They grow up so quick, huh?" she said.
I nodded as I called for a cab.
"I'm taking the cab driver," I said. "You'll be free to do whatever you want after that, but I will come back and kill both you and your son if you do anything to jeopardize me from seeing my daughter."
She didn't say another thing after that.
The cab came and I took the driver, he begged but I ignored him as I drove myself to the game which was unsurprisingly traffic filled. I looked at the time, I saw the signs for the game.
Fuck it, I thought. I jumped many times until I made it inside and I saw Clarissa. I didn't even bother taking the idiot next to her. I materialized outside on the top seats, my body hurt and the lights were irritating.
I walked down and people stared. I looked at the score and the time. Hailey's team was up by 3, a few minutes left on the clock. I heard the whistle and the alarms start to blare as everyone looked.
"It's Plague!" someone yelled.
Black, wispy tendrils made their way out of my body - mostly harmless, I needed them to defend myself. They covered my body, wrapping around my limbs tightly. I made eye contact with Hailey and she jumped up and down.
Amongst the screams, the alarms, and the shouting, I heard her.
"You made it!" she yelled. | 690 | I may be a Super Villain hell bent on world domination, but that doesn't mean I'm a bad dad. In fact, I'm an excellent father. My daughter is playing in her championship today, and not even the forces of Heaven and Hell combined will keep me in this prison missing her game | 2,037 |
I have four little babies. Pip, Peep, and Peep-Peep are such good little chicks. They're fluffy and yellow. They huddle for warmth under Mama's wing. They peck the ground and eat seeds. They don't worry me at all.
Scraw is different. Scraw is named after the call he makes, just like the other chickies, just like Mama Cluck. He's green. His wings don't have feathers on them, just skin stretched across long fingers, like a bat or a dragon. He lays out in the sun to get warm. He blows fire on little bugs and eats them! He can't be blowing fire, that's dangerous, and he's too little for bugs yet! I try to tell him no.
I worry about Scraw. I want him to grow up to be a good chicken, or at least act like a good chicken if he can't look like one.
The other babies don't seem to mind him, they cuddle up with him and warm him up. They peep and beep at him, they play with him, he plays with them, but I worry that he's gonna get mad and blow fire on them. I yell at Scraw when he blows fire, but I'm scared to peck at him, because what if he blows fire on me? I don't wanna be fried chicken!
Today, Scraw's stomping around the yard, screaming and scrawing and spreading out his wings, trying to look scary. Why does he do that? I swear I'm gonna make a proper chicken out of that boy if it's the last thing I do. | 153 | It turns out, chickens will hatch any eggs in their nests. This hen is a little concerned about her newest child, but she's going to teach him how to be a good chicken, no matter how much like a dragon he looks. | 455 |
If Susane had bothered to read the author’s forward, she would have understood precisely what waited for her within the pages of the *“Wonders of the Kitchen”*. However, at the time she had both overslept and underdone her last two meals, which threatened expulsion from the kitchens of the Republica of High Heart, and she was too panicked to notice. After all, with eccentrics from all across the entire Western Tract, unordinary food was not uncommon.
She leafed through the pages with wild abandon, until finally she came across a recipe that matched her requirements. The Republica often tested its staff with absurd requests and challenges, and today’s was: “Something spicy, if you would please.” A faceless order that had arrived at the kitchens and been unceremoniously handed to her. She held her finger over the ingredients. There were several notes and warnings (that she did not read) as she gathered them from their extensive pantries. Her fellow chefs paid her no mind, they assumed she would fail by the time lunch arrived.
If someone with scholarly care and a good bit of time were to look at the recipe page, they would see this in order, with notes and margins halfway down the page.
Northwest Guilty Fireball Gumbo (A recipe that I acquired from the members of the lost sect of the Guilty Ice, known for their extreme methods of tempering the body)
Required Ingredients:
One clutch of Northwestern Lily mollusks (Shucked or otherwise)
One Rifle-Lobster (Still alive)
Fifty Devil Shrimp (Deveined)
Ten Skullcracker Crabs (Whispered to with insults that would make the Star bristle)
Assorted Vegetables common to gumbo: Potatoes, Corn, Onions, Screaming Carrots, ect.
A ream of garlic
Red meat bouillon
St. Seegs Mint, 10 sprigs
20 Northern Blue peppers, stained with human blood. (WARNING: forgo the blood ritual if meant solely for regular consumption, see lower notes for reason.)
(This recipe is an abridged version of the original, but can still carry the effects of the monks who created it with a simple addition. Blue Peppers, known for their violent spicy flavor akin to “stabbing your own tongue” as my colleagues put it, carry a special chemical reaction when encountering blood. This reaction magnifies their effect to truly intolerable levels for the uninitiated, and will cause violent organ ruptures in those who have no tolerance to spice. However, in sub-zero temperatures, this effect will suffuse the body with heat to survive where even reinforced steel will shatter, allowing for inhuman skills such as breathing fire as well. If the reader finds themselves in need of such a potion, take a flask of the soup to the far north and drink a single thimble-full every 24 hours. This will both allow you to survive open blizzards, as well as numb your taste buds.)
Susane of course, skipped this part of the recipe, instead immediately pricking her palm. She joked with herself that she could honestly say that she put her blood, sweat, and tears into the recipe, as the cauldron the seafood boiled in was so hot that she sweated more than her nerves would allow. In fact, she had to avert her tearing eyes entirely from the pot after adding the peppers, as the steam seemed to reflect a heat that almost seared flesh.
Soon, the moment arrived that the servants came to collect the Gumbo, with her saluting them briskly as the cart laden with bowls left the kitchen. Some heads turned as the pot went past, and a chef was taken aback as his pot roast roasted to a fine medium rare as it passed him. Still the relief on Susane distracted her further from the recipe book’s warnings, instead letting her take a breather as she anxiously awaited her patrons' reviews.
The reply came back a full thirty minutes later. She noted that the guardsmen and servants seemed a bit…panicked, even as she sat peeling a mound of potatoes. The commotion came to a boil when the High Heart’s Brigade assembled in the kitchen, forcing all in attendance to line up. Susane felt sweat down her back as the Captain stepped aside, and the Speaker of the Republic stepped briskly into the kitchen. He was a gaunt fishman, black and gold skin, with his face having a perpetual raised left eyebrow. He looked a bit redder than usual.
“Who made the Gumbo?” He spoke in an uncharacteristic wheeze. No one said anything, but Susane felt a push against her back, and stumbled in front of the procession. Panic returned then as the Speaker set his eyes on her, narrowing them as she blubbered: “Oh, uh, the order came back for spice-I-I-uh, was it not?-”
He stared at her for a moment. Then two. She shrank beneath his gaze as he seemed to pierce her. “So it wasn’t an assassination attempt then?” She almost yelled then, blood cooling at a rapid pace. “No! Uh, was it poisoned?!”
He coughed, and as he tried to hide it, she noted a small bit of smoke coming out of his breath. All at once, his tone and mannerisms changed. “No, no, after all you followed the request perfectly.” He motioned to the guards. “This was the most commendable effort by the kitchens in a LONG while, understand. You performed excellently.” He clapped softly.
With some confused hesitation, the other kitchen staff and guards began clapping as well. Susane was too confused to accept the praise. “Sir, is, is everything alright?” She looked closer at the man, seeing his sweat pour down, pooling below him in a massive puddle. “No, no, everything’s fine.” He chuckled, shaking. “The ambassador of the Azure Towers was simply…ill-equipped to handle such precise mastery is all. As well as several others in attendance. Don’t worry, everything is fine. Just-” He clapped a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. She noted the clamminess of it as he addressed her. “In the future, maybe just a little…” He pinched his fingers in front of her, smiling tightly. “Less spice? The, uh, tastes of High Heart’s rulers are a bit more nuanced. Not to say you failed. A commendation is in order, expect it soon.”
Pride swelled in her, discarding the confusion as he turned away. “Now, I must-uh, retire f-for a moment, if you will excuse me.” He quickly walked out of the kitchen. The rest of the staff stood in shock, discussing things for a while. They flinched as there came the sound of an explosion down the hall.
Susane, however, was too busy clutching the cookbook close to her and smiling to notice the sound. It was the happiest she’d felt in the kitchen in a long while.
Authors Note: Thanks for reading! This was inspired by me growing hot peppers this year, consume with caution everyone! | 19 | There was an author who wrote legendary books involving alchemy, magic, and weapons combat. Unbeknownst to most, there was another book that the author has written, hidden away as a simple cookbook. A struggling chef finds the undiscovered book, not knowing what lies within. | 52 |
The desert night is cold and in a truly transcendental way, very desolate. Only the cold dark sands beneath your feet as far as the horizon stretches and the infinite ocean of stars above you. To travel through such places is possibly the closest a man can come to experience the emptiness of an uncreated void. There is little movement, if any. There are no grand vistas to distract you, no tumultuous ocean to stir the soul within you. There is only the sands, the stars, and the strangely cold wind that chills you to the bone. This vide and vast land is hostile to human life, and only barely tolerate our journeys through it. I am alone here, in body and spirit. My companions I lost in a sandstorm three days past. My camel laid down and refused to move again, dead by the sting of a dread scorpion. Poor beast, though that death is far faster than the one I see in my own future. Almost merciful. I have wandered in one direction ever since. Hiding in my meagre tent during the scorching day, getting what little rest I can, while I wait for night to come again. My throat like dusty old parchment calls out for the last of my water, and regretfully I find that I must part my dry lips to provide myself a final drink. The water is brackish, warm, and tastes like it has been sitting too long in its flask, yet it is to me a greater experience than drinking the most expensive and valued vintages of the finest vineyards of the world.
It must be enough. Were I not in the deep Sahara, perhaps I could find something to drink, but alas, I know not the signs of hidden oasis', nor if any beasts are around. Blood is a terrible thing to drink, as I am not a vampire, but when the choice is between life now and parasites, or death by thirst, the choice is easy. Though that choice is moot when there has been no sign of any life anywhere in this utter desolation. At least none I recognise. The desert can be lived in, adapted to, by animals over time. I have not the time to evolve nor the idea on how to do so on my own.
To my distress, the final water in my can has not dispelled the hallucinations, it seems. There is still a mirror in the desert. In the distance, it serves as the only noticeable feature amidst the dunes. Miles tall, and quite wide, it does seem like something you'd hallucinate. But there it is. And with no other recourse left to me, I must at least discover what I can about it before the desert leaves me a desiccated husk, naught but dried up old bones. It has been there in the distance since last night, but I discounted it, couldn't be real. Now, I don't know what it might be. As I get closer it certainly seems real. A dark chunk of mirrored glass, a vertical mirror reaching into the stratosphere, far further than I can see with my eyes. How can this not have been discovered? There are so many satellites in orbit that one of them should have noticed something so patently absurd as a mirror like this? It reflects the dark sands, the dunes, with eerie perfection. Something like this should have been damaged over the ages, the grinding sandstorms should have made it incapable of casting any form of reflections.
And yet, as I get closer, it does indeed seem to be showing a perfect reflection of the desert. Almost perfect. I cannot see myself in it. I do not approach it. I have no reflection. Perhaps I have died. Perhaps this is my afterlife. Roaming an endless desert, always thirsty, never finding respite. And yet that doesn't concern me as much as the other things I see in that mirror. As I get closer and closer I see the ghastly visage of mummies, dried up desert husks, and other dead men. Dressed in various forms of clothing from countless eras. There, in the mirror, a man dressed as a foreign legionnaire, there a Bedouin merchant, there a noble from the court of Mansa Musa, judging from the golden jewellery he is adorned with. There a pilot of the RAF, his dry arm raising a rusty pistol towards a man dressed in the uniform of Rommel's Afrikakorps. Impoverished Tuaregs, Italian officers, someone who looks like an American business idiot, countless people from various parts of Africa wearing vestiges of traditional clothing. Oldest of all seem to be a tall man with the crown of a pharaoh, atop a chariot pulled by long skeletal horses. All of them seem to be staring into the mirror.
Perhaps my predecessors. Others, lost in the desert, seeing a great mirror in the distance, hoping it will lead them somewhere. Anywhere. None of the skeletal beings in the mirror are moving. All of them are just staring. As I come stand before it, my hand reaches out to the reflective surface. It doesn't reflect. The mirror feels cold and real when I touch it. Staring into it, I see something behind me. Or through me, perhaps. Moving towards me. It is a figure that defies human comprehension. But I can feel that it has something to say. The way its mouth moves. The way I can almost hear the voice. A voice that sounds like the grinding of sand upon flesh. A voice that is the voice of the desert.
The words come to me. Almost like I am remembering them, just as I see the thing's mouth move. **DO YOU WISH FOR LIFE?** It asks me this. I nod, of course I want to live. I want to get out of this desert. **ARE YOU WILLING TO GIVE UP LIVING IN THIS WORLD TO LIVE ELSEWHERE?** Death in this desert. Or life somewhere else? I cannot escape from here on my own. My water is gone. Sand everywhere, and no way home. What choice is there. Either way, my family will never see me again. Either way, my works will not be continued. Either way, I can never return home again. **THOSE YOU SEE IN THE MIRROR DID NOT WANT TO GIVE UP THEIR LIVES; THEIR WEALTH, DUTY, POWER, AND FAMILY WERE TOO IMPORTANT FOR THEM. THEY DIED HERE. THE SANDS TOOK THEIR FLESH AND WATER.** Underneath me, I feel the sands move and twist, revealing a mass of horrid bones underneath me. Many are the people I see in the mirror. Officers, kings, rich men. People who did not dare to give up everything, for the chance of life. In the desert, all the riches in the world are worth nothing, compared to a mere droplet of pure clean water. **YOU WILL ASSUME NEW FLESH. IN A LAND BEYOND THIS REALM. AND YOU CAN NEVER RETURN HOME AGAIN.** I nod. My throat, despite the earlier water, is too parched to form words.
I willingly give up what I have here in this world. It is not an easy choice, but to live is to have the chance to regain everything you've lost. To walk the desert alone and lost is to die.
**THEN STEP INTO THE MIRROR**
Closing my eyes, I walk forward, into the mirror, where that strange indescribable shape stares at me with inhuman eyes. It feels cold, and wet. And painful. Like every cell in my body is screaming and changing. But I keep moving forward. Until I fall. I open my eyes only to see, a brief moment before I break the water, a small lake underneath me. I fall into the clean water, and I almost cannot stop my body from reflectively trying to drink the entire body of water. Instead, I force myself to swim, and reach the shore of the lake instead. Once there, I find a small stream leading into the lake, and drink from that instead. Perhaps there are parasites or dangerous bacteria in the water, but I don't care too much. It's water. After days in the desert, this is paradise. Once I've drunk my fill and then some, I walk down to the lakeshore, and look at myself in the mirror-surface of the lake. My flesh is no longer that of a human being. I am shorter than I was before. I have an elongated snout. My body is covered in snake-like scales, yet I can tell that I am still warm-blooded, which is unusual. My clothes don't fit particularly well anymore, but I've still got my backpack, and I've got some sutures, needle, and such. I can make them fit. The swishing reptile tail behind me will take some getting used to though.
A new life. A new land. A new body. Better than dying in my old flesh, back in the desert. I fill my canteen with clean water from the spring leading into the lake, and begin working on my clothes. Once I am done, I shall walk around the lake, looking for traces of people, houses, smoke, boats, the likes.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | 13 | Lost in the middle of the desert, one night you notice a giant vertical mirror in the distance. It seems to work like you'd expect a normal mirror to, except it does not reflect living beings.. | 22 |
"Are you alright, Princess?" Princess Kayla gives a nod. "I don't need anything right now, Lord Narfaire." "Good. I'd better get downstairs, no doubt your father has sent someone by now." I lock the door, feeling bad but knowing I have no choice. I may be a dark overlord, but I won't let anything happen to my granddaughter.
I get a knock at my lair just as I get downstairs. I'm prepared. I open the door to see a knight. I don't let him speak, simply hand over the note. The knight looks up at me, confused. "I was told that the princess of the Fairy King had been abducted with malicious intentions?"
I shake my head. "I'd never do such a thing. I'm evil, I won't deny it, but I simply make deals with desperate travellers that come with a... *hefty* price. If his majesty wants his precious daughter back, then I need my precious granddaughter back. Olivia must be frightened. Go. Send the message."
There's a look of anger and fury in the knight's eyes. "I can't believe that someone so noble would do such a thing... I will make it very clear that I will not be involved in this ordeal unless *he agrees* to let Olivia go." I nod. "If you get him to sign the paper, then I am prepared to release Kayla first. If I don't see Olivia by tomorrow's moon, there will be consequences. Don't tell the king that, just make sure he signs the paper.
With that, the knight heads off. I decide to make something to eat. I go see my 'prisoner'. "You don't want to stay in here, do you? Come downstairs, we can eat together." Kayla smiles and follows me downstairs. We have a nice evening, as we wait for the knight to return. | 12 | A traveling knight was sent to save a princess abducted by a dark overlord. He later found out that the overlord will only let her go if the Fairy King gives his kidnapped first born granddaughter back. The knight didn't expect to be involved in a hostage exchange... | 52 |
The stranger standing before me pulled off his hat and scarf to reveal a face that I've never seen nor heard of before - pale skin tarnished with weather strung over bones, messy short hair and a long nose. What made that face different from other travellers were the deeply seated grayish blue eyes resembling a winter river so deep, you would certainly drown in it.
"How may I help you with my craft? What do you require: horseshoes, hoes, shovels, shears, maybe a hammer and nails?"
The stranger made an expression that I could only guess was a light smile while his eyes measured me head to toe. When he spoke back he had a very weird accent and his words were careful.
"I've come from afar and were told you're the best in your craft far and wide. I have a need for a tool that you've never made, touched or even seen, but I can tell you how to make it."
With those the stranger gave me a number of drawings done with such attention to detail I gasped. Measurements, dimensions, all matching to form a long device made of wood and steel with springs, hinges and screws. Despite a feeling deep down inside my mind I had to know how it worked and was made, the urge was too great to resist.
Many days have passed during the work on the peculiar tool. The stranger showed me smithing techniques I've never seen before, but limited himself to observing and making corrections on the drawings. While I worked on metals, he worked on wood and alchemy foreign even to the wisest I've met.
When the steel was met with wood, hinges with the springs and alchemical coatings were applied the stranger showed me the purpose of the tool and I've fallen to my knees over the vow I broken out of dangerous curiosity.
I've created a weapon worse than anything I've ever made or seen, a terrifying contraption breathing fire and spewing metal, easier to use than a crossbow or a slingshot and with a monstrously better range, speed and accuracy. Empires would be made and destroyed with it, countless lives lost and saved, tyranny and freedom mixed into one.
I couldn't accept his coin, but I accepted his knowledge, knowing that it was rather a curse than a blessing. Watching the drawings burn in the forge fire I knew I could not trust myself to ever again grab a hammer to smith again. | 172 | You are a mighty draconian blacksmith for a small village in the mountains. You make unbreakable tools for the villagers in exchange for coin, yet refuse to make weapons. Until… | 507 |
Aboard a carriage, acting as the protectors of a large merchant caravan, there sit four people. Each of them dressed in high quality armour. Each of them have either sharp knives, good swords, or strong spells as their preferred methods of working. Together they form small team of adventurers, the Winddrifters, known as one of the more professional and high quality teams out there. If you need rogue dragons killed, orcish warlords assassinated, valuable magical cargo protected, they're your guys. Their leader is the young half-elven knight in red. Sir Albrecht of Rychlov, the heir to the margraviate of Rychlov, his blade is swift and in his hands there are strong spells. A swordmage of renown and skill. There is the quick and cunning human street-monk, Carries-The-Law-In-Blood-And-Bone, who hath a great skill with dagger and fist, who always follows the tenets and scriptures of the beneficent Mendicant Monks. A woman of great courage who always does what is best for the people. Supporting them is the kind and faithful minotaur healer-priestess Montuaca, who came from across the mountains to spread the holy word of healing, kindness, and forgiveness. The final member of this group, is the enigmatic mage Venturio Firen. His body is covered in cloth, his words are few, but his spells and power speaks eloquently enough for themselves. Together they fight as a cohesive unit that has felled enemies daemonic, draconic, elemental, and abyssal.
Today though, they're just escorting a large shipment of Cjionnic spices that have been enhanced through arcane means. It is the primary export of the spice-mages of the city-state of Cjionnes, and can fetch fortunes for any merchant who can transport it across the badlands to the Freeports of the Speartip Coast. These adventurers have repelled raiders, orc warbands, a minor lich with their undead forces, and even an attack from the rogue wild-elves. They've earned their substantial reward, once the caravan gets to the Freeport ahead of them. Albrecht has never been this far west, and is fascinated by the cultural practices. Carries-The-Law has already helped many people quietly on the side, farmers on the edge of civilisation, beggars, outcasts. Montuaca preaches with fervour and heals like a kindly mother would, to any who comes to them. It's quite an adventure. But as they pass closer and closer to the city, Venturio has grown more and more withdrawn.
The other three trusts him. He has saved their lives on multiple occasions, and he has an impressive knowledge of countless things. He has never acted like this before, and they're getting slightly worried, though all the new impressions they are experiencing are distracting them from acting upon it. Until they get close to the coast. There stands a grand and beautiful temple of the local faith. Its high towers are proud and pleasing to the eyes. The priests in their white robes are walking around the entrance, discussing theology. But while the three of them are in awe of it, Venturio is not. He stares with abject horror at the temple. Montuaca tries to shake him awake, but he does not speak. His eyes are burning with fear and terror. Carries-The-Law tries to reach out to him with her big strong hands, but she recoils as his flesh is like fire. Albrecht is calling for the caravan medics, and telling Montuaca to get her herbs, potions, and healing prayers ready. Just in case.
Venturio sees none of this.
He sees the temple's foundations. He sees the cruel priests whipping him and his people. He remembers losing family and friends to the cruelty of the gods that this structure is dedicated to. Sacrifices, bloody and horrid. They had to watch. And had to ape the words of the empire's church. Had to pretend to be grateful for being civilised by the empire and their bloody legions. Or get punished. The priests took the weakest and the sickest of the slaves and bled the stonework red with the blood of Venturio's kin. He remembers the cruelty of the empire that built this. The day they burned his hometown to the ground. The last day he saw his parents. The last day he was innocent and free. He remembers the empire's mages dragging off slaves to their dark dungeons where they committed unspeakable crimes in their horrid quest for immortality. A quest that succeeded. Venturio doesn't remember what spell or alchemy ripped his flesh apart and put it together, granting him immortality. But he remembers how it allowed him to break free. How it allowed him to rise up, free the other slaves. Slay the empire's magecorps. Raise an army of freed slaves. He remembers the others who stood by his side.
His first team.
Xon the gladiator, the greatest warrior that Venturio had ever met. He remembers how Xon spoke to the slaves, lighting the fire of freedom in them. He didn't care about victory, only about living free, and dying free on their own terms. He learned a love of freedom from Xon. Venturio remembers Qhorwin, the old bird who healed them, the black talons healing wounds caused by decades or even lifetimes of slavery. How he had such kindness, like a grandfather to all the people who had been freed. And how much that old bird hated the masters. The empire, his love and kindness did not reach them. He learned magic from and hatred from Qhorwin, and how to temper it with kindness towards those whom you love. Venturio remembers Callimar the Scout, who held the lines at the Khyden Pass, allowing most of the slaves too old, too young, or too sick, to escape from the empire. He remembers fighting through the imperial forces, only for it to be too late for Callimar, his beautiful elven face smiling even in death, because he held the line successfully. Nothing else mattered. He learned never to give up from Callimar.
The army was defeated. The slaves died free. But it was enough, the empire collapsed shortly after their defeat, though it took nearly two centuries for Venturio to learn this. He survived of course, and met up with the old, the children, and the weak, so that he could lead them away to safety if the empire sent a punitive expedition after them. His immortality was spent trying to forget for a while. Forget the horrors. And guiding the people who escaped to a land that was fertile and free. The settlements near the far eastern ocean coast became the first Freeport, appropriately named Haven. The first free city, formed from a hundred tribes, a thousand gods, and a common history extolling the virtues of freedom, dignity, and cooperation. Lead by an immortal king, until Venturio left and let the senate elect leaders instead. It was for the better, and even today it is a city of prosperity and freedom. A beacon of hope, that the world could be that good if only people worked together. Most other cities built later are reflections of that first Haven.
Now he is back where his immortality started. That same temple he was forced to work on. He still has the scars on his back. He is a mage. An immortal mage who has powers that can challenge some gods. And as he hears the priests chatter, talking about the ''glorious days of the old empire'' and the ''righteousness of the gods'', he can taste bile in his throat. But even through the rage, he has immense self-control. Discipline. Xon wasn't the smartest man in the universe, but he taught every freed slave to control their rage. To direct it towards something useful, so innocents would not be harmed. The huge gladiator had been very firm about that. He wanted an army, not a disorganised rabble. | 55 | An adventuring party travels to an old kingdom. Their immortal party member happens upon a grand and beautiful structure, he/she is overwhelmed with rage as memories of the slave labor used to build it come to. | 178 |
Truly, it depends upon the monster and their abilities. the three types of monsters would react differently to this particular situation.
Firstly, Grasping Horrors, of which yours truly is counted among, would say "no", after all, the torso is not our aim, but the arms and legs. should we assume that the bed in question is of a single size, as opposed to a queen or king, then a fitting duvet will not cover the extremities properly. This leaves an opening for us Horrors to get a firm grasp upon our prey. In fact, this situation may be considered ideal, for it creates an illusion of safety that, when ripped away, generates a fulfilling amount of that delicious fear.
Secondly, there are the brutish Heart Stoppers. They would find this a terrible obstacle. As these creatures need access to the prey's heart this presents an obstacle. in order to wake their prey they stop the heart for a beat. this wakes children up in a cold sweat, already on guard. The duvet cover in the proposed orientation would thwart such a creature. This can be worked around should it come up but these hold the risk of marking the child, causing them harm. As this must be avoided at all costs to protect our existence, most will take this as a lost opportunity and move on.
Finally, the Nightmares. I won't lie, most nightmares will likely be confused, as duvets never protect prey from their abilities. Ever since they successfully drove nightcaps out of fashion there are very few nights these monsters go hungry. These beasts awaken their prey by placing a vague sense of terror in the prey's mind, hence their name, Nightmares.
To summarize, The capabilities of different monsters vary widely enough that for any given situation there are no cut and dry answers. Each monster must determine the risk and reward of each prey and find one suitable for them to feed on. In my own case, my tentacles are more than capable of awakening a prey around such "protection". | 43 | "If a potential client is sleeping under a duvet cover, but has the duvet across their torso, are they protected? Explain your reasoning. This question is worth 6 marks." Boogeyman final exams are... different | 127 |
The rule echoed in my head as I stared at the gate. 'There is only one gate on campus. If you find multiples or any gate that is not the original, stay where you are and contact a teacher.' See the problem was, gates surrounded me. Not only the one in front, but they were ringed right around. There was no way for me to contact a teacher besides yelling very loud, and at the moment, everyone would be in class. I suppose this is what I get for skipping.
Turning in a slow circle, making sure it didn't look like I was trying to go through a gate, I studied them. The one in front was a grand wrought iron affair, with leaves and flowers worked around the bars. To my left, a small white picket gate seemed to invite hopping over it, more than opening it. On the right, they were almost pearly, though I doubt they were *those* pearly gates. Behind me, a deep red gate rose, made most likely of wood, but I wasn't going to touch it to find out. There were faces in that gate, and they looked like they were screaming.
Taking a calming breath, I settled onto the ground, making sure I was equidistant from each gate. The logical decision was to wait here until a teacher was in shouting distance.
"Hello."
I nearly jumped out of my skin. From behind the pearly gates, a figure loomed. An oddly familiar figure—oh. That was me. Right down to the broken nose I'd gotten last September.
"Hello? Can you hear me?" The other me said again. But before I could respond, someone else joined the conversation.
"Hello? Can you see me?" That voice belonged to the person behind the white picket gate. Who was also me. Me, when I was about twelve. I took a shaky breath before another voice chimed in. And I mean literally chimed.
They stood behind the wrought iron gate. Tall, impossibly good-looking, everything I could ever have wanted to be, including older.
"Of course, they can hear and see you. These are the Gates after all. This is where the convergence occurs."
"Yes, but they are rather young." The sibilant voice came from the dark red gate, and I was afraid to look. But something compelled me to turn, and as I did so, I nearly bit my tongue. The wood had shifted, and now, picked out as if in a bas-relief carving, stood another me.
"What does youth matter?" That was younger me. "After all, I'm here."
"Yes, but eternal youth doesn't really count." The pretty version of me shook their head, managing to sound condescending and kind at the same time.
Trying not to hyperventilate, I raised a hand.
"Um. What's happening?" My voice squeaked, but I was too overwhelmed to care.
"Now, look. You've scared them." The first me, the one by the pearly gates, shook their head. I couldn't see their difference to me, which frightened me more than the rest.
"Look, we're just here to give you a choice." The sibilant me wasn't helping. "You have to walk through one of these gates."
"And what happens when I do that?" I asked.
It was disconcerting having four of me laughing in concert. Little me actually wiped away a tear.
"We can't tell you that. It's against the rules." Pretty me chimed from their gait. Not wanting to be laughed at again, I didn't ask what rules; just sent up a quick prayer that classes would let out soon. This was getting worrisome.
"So. Choose." The first me said, the pearly gates actually shimmering invitingly.
"Choose." And the wrought iron seemed to flower more intensely.
"Choose." And the white picket gate creaked as if in a strong breeze.
"Choose." And the red wood gate darkened, the faces standing out stronger.
Against my will, I stood, my body moving on its own accord. Even though I didn't want to acknowledge it, I knew this choice had been coming for a long time. I'd had this dream before. I'd seen these faces, I'd seen these gates. Every time I woke up before the decision. But there would be no waking up this time. I would choose a gate. There was no other option. The facility would have to add to the rule. Something like, 'Do NOT go through any of the gates.'
Because once I went through, I didn't think I'd be coming back.
Breathing hard, I took a step toward my choice. The me behind it smiled. A yell tore from my throat, a last desperate attempt to draw a teacher's attention. And hands grabbed me, dragging me across the ground.
Reflexively I thrashed, hearing voices swirl around me.
"Hold them."
"Careful, they've had an encounter."
"I thought they were in your class."
"Look, they were there when I took attendance." The last grumpy sentence stilled my fear. That was my teacher. Which meant...
I opened my eyes, staring up into the faces above me. The entire faculty had a hand on me, pinning me to the ground. Worriedly, my teacher bent over me.
"Are you here?" They asked. An odd question, but after what I'd gone through, an understandable one.
"Yes. I'm here. I'm present." At my answer, tension leaked out of the air around us. Helping me up, the faculty surrounded me, heading back to the main building. Their relief was palpable. But I couldn't relax, because I knew the truth.
Those Gates were still out there. They were still waiting. And one day, there wouldn't be anyone to pull me to safety. One day, I would have to make a choice and step through. And one day there would be no turning back. | 164 | There is only one gate on campus. If you find multiple gates, stay where you are and contact your teacher. Do NOT go through any of the gates. | 487 |
It was a time like no other. Not only did humanity confirm the existence of extra-terrestrial life, but we also confirmed that they're hostile to us. We weren't ready when the first wave attacked. Two large saucer-like ships just suddenly appeared in the middle of the ocean and made their way to japan. Leaders from around the world scattered to form a response and fighter jets were dispatched almost immediately, but upon their arrival at where the alien ships were supposed to be headed, the pilots reported that the two ships were torn apart by a sudden hurricane. While we all breathed one massive sigh of relief at the lack of human casualties, we were equally confused as to how a massive hurricane formed out of nowhere in the middle of the ocean. Not only that, but how were these scientifically advanced alien ships not able to handle a bit of bad weather. The incident soon passed in our minds and Japan legally got to keep the wreckage of the ships. I hear they're advancing like crazy over there these days. What happened next however.....well, It might be better if I just explain what happened.
About two or three months after the first ships arrived, the earth was bombarded with wave after wave of invasions. Japan got attacked again, Russia, America, and even Australia were attacked. Everywhere almost all at once was swarmed by relentless waves of alien ships, each looking more dangerous than the last. The only thing is that despite however many ships came at us, there were an equal amount of wreckages piling up across the world. One by one they came and one by one they fell. A spontaneous tornado in Australia, earthquakes across Russia, and we in the Americas were forced to endure all of that and more. It's as if the planet itself was fighting back the invasion. One day there would be terrible winds raging while blowing away ships and houses along with them and the next day would present tremors so powerful that they completely shattered the Richter scale. Let me tell you, it was hell for a while there. My house was blown clear across the sky along with practically my entire neighborhood, got to watch them nail a couple ships out of the sky so it wasn't all bad.
By the end of it all, there were just a few stragglers left over. They took off though, probably didn't want to end up like their comrades. And so the day was saved I guess. No Idea what the aliens were after, No clue as to how each disaster occurred, and the weirdest of all, we have no clue as to how there were no casualties among everything that happened. People who were Almost killed just claimed they were "Protected", whatever that means.
In the end I guess we really didn't want to answer the aliens call, or however that saying goes. My house did go flying which means that like a whole lot of others, I'm now homeless.
"**Damnit all to hell!"** An old man was cursing at the rubble that was once his home. "**Stupid sons of bitches!"** I walked up to him and placed my hand on his shoulder "*Don't worry sir, we've still got our health right?"* I flexed my arms and gave him a good smile, the best one I could muster. | 10 | Humans brace for an alien invasion But are surprised when a series of natural disasters take out most of the invasion forces. | 37 |
Dread and terror was all that was expected when the 116th Zalrex Expeditionary Fleet finally touched down after ages of travel. The planet had simple defenses, radio signals suggesting only recent industrialization, and evidence of in-atmosphere nuclear tests. The Zalrex assumed the invasion would be like fighting hatchlings.
As all ships of the thousand vessel strong fleet landed, and at long last opened the viewports of their vessels to gaze upon their quarry, they were horrified and dismayed; There was plant life taller than the highest peak, and then further ones even higher. The craggy, gray ground the ships had landed upon houses a vehicle larger than even the mightiest Zalrex capital ships by magnitude of thousands.
The native domicile was easily larger than a continent, and the titanic, unfathomably large organic resting on a gargantuan seat in front of it didn't even register the arrival of the attacking fleet because of the size difference, and instead drank from a city-sized aluminum container.
The crews began to wail in surprise and shock. The gods had truly abandoned the Zalrex at the cusp of their greatest victory.
Too stunned to raise defenses, they watched as a native lifeform stomped over. It was a hairy, monstrous thing with pointed ears, and a binding around it's throat with a cacaphonous ringing sphere attached.
As the creature smashed the fleet beyond recognition, the Supreme Commander gazed upon Mittens, the Destroyer of Zalrex, and cursed her name. Five months of atmospheric travel and they were undone by a pet. Earth was the most dangerous place in the galaxy, for gods dwelt there. | 303 | The Zalrex were feared among the galaxy as the most cruel, violent and ruthless species. They would bully, slap, hit, sometimes even kill other species. Nobody could stand in their way.. till they arrived on a small blue planet named Earth. | 512 |
Two cups of tea sat steaming. The table was made of bone, stitched together with shadow. Beside the table sat two thrones.
The thrones were simple. The host's matched the bones of the table; with skulls of various species long extinct forming the back. The guest's was just a throne. But it hovered there like a three dimensional shadow, no reflections or refractions from its surface, throwing no shadow of its own in the flickering torch light.
The host reached for his tea, his bones carefully grasping the delicate china with cats chasing each other around the rim. He sipped, or the sound of sipping came from within his ebon hood. Can the reaper sip without lips?
His guest picked her cup up, with its motif of iridescent black serpents hatching from eggs the color of black holes. She, too, sipped carefully. Black lips and skin even paler than the bones that her host used for hands.
She spoke first, "My Lord Thanatos, thank you for inviting me. How fares my favorite psychopomp?"
An agonal rattle struggled forth from the hood in place of a sigh, "I fare as always, Lady Nox. Eternal, wreathed in entropy, and weary of the task appointed me."
Nox gave a gentle, all enshrouding smile, "It is a burden, Thanatos, having to reap the crop of souls. So many of them unready, so many that reject your gift even as their pain ceases and your peace enfolds them. They fear that which they should love dearest. What is day without night, and what is life without the guarantee that it will end?"
"That is the rub, my Lady. So few realize what existence would be like, the horrors that would be, without death. Those that do, I count them as dear friends, even when they know me not. Among those, doctors bear my greatest affection. Indeed, that is why I asked you here. I have made a friend."
"You have always had friends, myself among them. We gods know the good you do, and love you for it. You are my favorite son, as much as any of us can be said to be family."
"Thank you for that, I mean no slight to my friends among the gods and great spirits. But without the very ephemeral nature of mortality, friendship has a different weight. I can never lose my dark mother, for she is eternal. She was here before all, and she will be the only one left other than me when the universe suffers its own death. There is great comfort in that.
But I made a mortal friend again, despite having promised myself to never do so again."
"Not that necromancer, I hope?"
"No, though we have reached an understanding, we shall never be friends. It is a doctor."
"You do so gravitate toward them, which has always confused most gods. Why have such love for those that curse and despise you most?"
"As you know, part of the draw is that they stand athwart life and death so often. And I've spoken to you of the way they reduce my burden by giving the mortals more time, and those tend to appreciate the gift of death much more when I do lift them.
They, and the hospitals they work with, also make scheduling much more convenient, though that is largely a bit of humor I give out when asked about doctors. Death is timeless.
But there has always been a greater reason."
"You have never said so, to me or any god."
"No. You would not understand. No god could. Very few mortals can. But when I meet one that has the ability to truly understand death, I am nigh compelled to befriend them just to share that reason."
"I take it your new friend is one of those?"
"She is. Truly a magnificent physician. She specializes in palliative care, which is what I fancy my true purpose to be. She is gentle, and good, and strong enough to shoulder the pain of that so her patients suffer less. Truly what a doctor should be. Today I was able to tell her why I so love doctors and nurses and all their ilk."
"This is what makes a friend to you? Being able to share that with them?"
"Not just that. It's the ones that can bear the truth, understand it, but wish to change it at the same time as still possessing the desire to fulfill it. Those are the ones I eventually show myself to, as I am. Those are the ones I risk baring that secret to. Today, I told her, and she understood."
"Can you share that secret with me as well, or shall you leave me in the dark with all the other secrets I have never shared with anyone but the ones who gave them into my care?"
"It is as I told her. I wish they could succeed. I wish that they could banish death. Lady Night, you know I despair of my existence. But if any mortals could banish death for the living, it is the doctors. But this doctor was among those few that also wished to ease that pain, while promising to always try to rid the worlds of me until the end of the universe when it will be just you and I.
That's why I am drawn to them, the healers. They would heal me, give me surcease even as they drove me into your eternal embrace at the end. And I welcome that oblivion." | 29 | Death’s favorite people to talk to are doctors for a few reasons. They lighten his work load, gather the dying in one place, and a third reason he only tells his BEST of mortal friends. | 67 |
Death. Humanity's always been obsessed with it. It's one of our two deepest and most primal instincts: the burning need to explore, discover, and conquer... and a terror of what lies beyond life. They're intimately intertwined, because death is the only thing that we *can't* explore. There's no way to get information back through the process of it.
We have a million different names for the thing, though eggheads 'officially' call it The Point of No Return. The Point, Nonpoint, The Wall, The Veil, The Death, Azathoth's End, Hiraita, The Styx, on and on. All I know is that fourteen lightyears out there, some *thing* is keeping us inside of it, and no one who's gone through the black sheen has come back. Surely there must be another side to it... or perhaps it is a termination of reality, a nothingness so profound as to be unknowable. That's why I usually call it The Death, because that's really all it is. It is a cage that is holding us within it, and the only thing scarier than realizing that is pondering *why.* Well, it's time for me to find out.
I don't have a lot to leave behind, save the sanity I lost somewhere along the way. Not much money, an apartment charitably described as a closet on the 248th floor, long below the 'haves'. Little family, few friends. All small sacrifices to be made to finally sate the slavering hunger, the indomitable need to understand. If The Point proves a Newton Gate, my scrambled atoms will at least be dissolved at peace. If I find a magnificent new frontier, a Promised Land, I will leave an indelible legacy as a man so mad as to be genius in seeing the future all others were blind to. Should I discover naught but a truly endless void, as the rest of space so often seems to be, I will live out my final miserable days clutching the contentment I will find in at last putting this rabid beast of a search to rest.
And so with that I depart you. Some may call this a suicide note, some perhaps a guidestone, and certainly many an anthropological study. If you are a follower of a god, blame them for what I am to do. If not, know this: my own humanity is what possessed me to do this. Don't mourn, don't question. Study if you wish, but I advise that you accept. Nature is unstoppable, and this is merely human nature. May I be known to the world not by the name the governments will list me as. May I be known by the name I leave you with below, for it is not only my truest nature, but yours as well. It is time to begin. As the great Winston Churchill once said: "Up to the neck, and into the death."
\- Moth Into Flame | 11 | With FTL travel available on a commercial scale, it wasnt long before The Point of No Return was discovered. An opaque barrier 14 lightyears away from earth in every direction which provides a one way trip to... something... on the other side. | 27 |
Grimsbane watched as a towering slime creature let out a keening cry. Distortions rippled across the video feed from a kaleidoscope of light. The slime’s ruby core shattered under the combined powers of three girls in frilly outfits. And with a burst of energy, its body exploded, sending slime and debris across many city blocks. One of the girls screeched in disgust as the trio was covered in goo. Another said something calming in the post-battle lull.
“Boss, Fengora has fallen.” A young man with a black stripe pinned to his shirt froze the display. “His explosion seems to extend from third street all the way to tenth. Many of the traffic cameras are offline, so it’s hard to say for sure.”
Grimsbane tapped his chin in thought. “What’s the situation with the helicopter, Mary?”
“Getting the report, Boss.” A young woman with a similar black stripe tapped away at a keyboard for a moment. “Cadet Red saved the team, but her method destroyed the top two floors of an office building in the process. That entire business will likely be disrupted until repairs are completed.”
Grimsbane made a note on his tablet. “Good. What’s the online response so far?”
Another man reported, “The usual. Praise for stopping a horrible creature. Propositions from lonely men and women. The more risqué comments seem to be more common this time with all the slime. A lot of diehard fans and creeps enjoyed that display.”
“And the locals?”
“Overwhelmingly negative, Boss. The streets are soaked. The deluge flooded all vehicles in the blast radius, as well as most of the buildings. Some people didn’t evacuate either, so we may even have some deaths on our hands.”
Grimsbane shifted from his notes to a map of the city. “Fengora was already moving toward the bay, right? Had he destroyed much before the Cadets engaged?”
A woman with two black stripes saluted and replied, “No, Boss. We made sure to lure him in such a way that he did very little damage as he moved through the old district.”
“Good work, Elora. Michael, have your team push that narrative online. The Cadets could have waited until Fengora reached the bay before destroying him.”
“Yes, Boss.” Michael got to work.
Grimsbane turned back to Elora. “Did he attack anyone other than the Cadets?”
Elora shook her head. “He made some light swipes at the news helicopters. They were never in danger until Cadet Green lost her temper because she couldn’t do enough damage. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage.”
“Good idea.” Grimsbane motioned to the rest of his underlings. “I have some business to attend to. Keep up the good work and keep me updated on the Cadets. They’ve hindered our plans long enough.”
“Yes, Boss!” The voices of dozens of men and women echoed throughout the base.
Grimsbane left the room, making his way to an underground parking lot where a limo awaited him. A tall man in dark sunglasses got out of the car.
The driver asked in a deep voice, “Ready to go, Boss?”
Grimsbane nodded and sat down in the back. Soon, the limo began to move, passing through a sloped passage and emerging in a forest. With a sigh, Grimsbane removed his blank mask and straightened his tie. As they merged back onto a highway, one of his phones let out a buzz.
“Talk to me, commissioner. What’s the situation?”
The woman on the other end was irate. “It was those damned girls again. We asked them to avoid the civilian sectors. And what do they do? They destroyed half the city because they couldn’t wait five minutes! I’ve got slime clogging up the streets! Who knows if it’s dangerous?”
“Breathe, commissioner. We’ll get through this. For now, let’s make sure we take the appropriate precautions. Make sure recovery teams are wearing proper hazmat suits and search for any injured. I’ll make some calls to the mayor. See if we can push through any legislature for more funding. We need to be able to deal with these creatures without the Cadets.”
There was a frustrated sigh from the other end. “Right. Good luck with that, Victor. Talk to you later.”
As the line went dead, Counselor Victor Ophires smiled as he leaned back in his seat. One day, when the Sparkling Cadets came out to ‘save the day’, they would find their help was no longer wanted.
...
A quick bit of writing, but I like the concept. I feel like the concept of collateral damage following superhero fights never got addressed much until maybe the Marvel movies?
If you're interested in my works, the archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile.
Thanks for reading. | 76 | You're the vicious, evil overlord trying to take over Earth. These magical girls that are always destroying your monsters are causing so much collateral damage they're practically doing your job for you. | 146 |
I sat at a distance, admiring the subtle hints of creation- the differences each diamond in the void shimmered with on its own volition. Flaring reds and perfidious oranges that popped with angry, pent energy to humming azure blues and thrumming whites that danced with lazy grace. The more nefarious creations grabbed and pushed the visible cosmic landscape, kneading it and spinning it further and further away from each other. Not to be outdone, some were greedily hoarding the shining particles and pilfering them from sight like a mischievous, wanton child.
My focus waxed upon a particular orange sphere that scintillated on the horizon. It wasn't particularly bold in color or shirking away from attention. It was lonely in the celestial dance though, perhaps bereft of a partner unlike many of its wayward kin in the vicinity.
Then I noticed it wasn't quite alone. I peered harder, and saw there was a few more smaller companions. Fragments of failed creations?
No...there was something...odd with this. I had to get closer.
With but a thought, my vision narrowed and I beheld a jewel amongst jewels, a swirling little blue ball that paled against anything else I'd seen molded by Father that was tinier than anything else I beheld.
It was cold. I knew this because it lacked light of it's own. The orange fiery sphere that encircled it blessed it with warmth and protection.
Squinting, it wasn't all blue. Closer I had to approach to make out hues of white and brown and...green? A color I had rarely seen.
Pastiches of green brushed the sphere, obscured by wispy puffs of white that straddled the blue orb, holding firm to the patches of brown that scuffed the surface.
My curiosity almost obliterated the fragile thing as I had unconsciously went to grab for it. I pulled back my hand, keeping it at bay until I had fully observed it and chiding myself for patience.
I inched closer, almost as much as I dared, holding my breath for fear of disturbing it as it spun in the void, embraced by its greater companion.
And then, I had to pause, for despite its minuscule size, something else even more amazing happened; infinitesimally wiggling amongst the green canopy, and slithering through the granular browns, and flopping across the rhythmic blues.
It was something Father had talked about to himself in his shop. A thing that had been his greatest toil that had broken him as he labored day and night in his twilight years to accomplish but never quite perfect. It was the highest achievement he aspired to and thought lost when he had moved on.
Life.
I shuddered a breath in awe.
In that tiniest moment of inhibition, a chill rose up my spine as I saw the waves of force exit my mouth and slam into the blue marble, igniting the surface into angry cinders and dulling the sheen as the blues and browns and greens faltered against the impact.
Then...silence as it limped in its dance, perhaps fatally from my carelessness.
Oh my Father, what had I done? | 85 | It has been some time since your father passed. You enter his workshop, now a cold void where the ethereal dust had long settled. His work was still in motion, 9 heavily spheres above 9 infernal rings with a blue sphere in the middle. You sit in his old chair and ponder on what do with earth. | 300 |
She's just sitting there, holding the biggest red egg you've ever seen. You open and close your mouth, not sure what to say.
"Well?" She asks and looks at you expectantly. "Are you just going to stand there like a goldfish or come over here and greet our first baby?"
You're still not sure if this is real, when she speaks up again. "Or you could heat up that plate of pasta from last night, if that's more your speed right now"
She smiles. Such a happy, loving and tired smile.
"Pasta? Hungry, right, you're hungry. I'll heat the pasta for you, honey" You stumble to the kitchen, your mind a flurry of questions.
It's been 6 months, not 9. Isn't your baby really early? Shouldn't you be at the hospital? It's an egg? A RED egg.
The microwave beeps. Time's up. You pick up the plate and a fork and take it to the living room. Your wife beams at you.
"Please hold it, while I eat" she says and hands you the egg. It feels warm in your hands.
"Are you okay?" You manage to ask.
"Hmmm? Yeah" her mouth is full of pasta. "Just tired and hungry"
"Um, is it a boy or a girl?" You feel so stupid for asking that.
"Well, the scans said it's a girl, but we'll know for sure once it hatches in three months"
"Sh-should I get a blanket for it, or...?"
"Gods, John, what's gotten into you?"
"Oh, I don't know, Lizandra, maybe it's because you never mentioned our daughter could come out still in her egg. We prepared for a full birth. You told me that was the norm for half-dragons. We haven't even started looking at bassinets, yet"
"Yeah, I'm surprised, too. Maybe I should call my mom"
"We don't need an incubator, do we?"
"JOHN!" she punches you in the arm before laughing. | 428 | You are frantically driving back to your house. Your wife called you for she delivered, even though it has been just six months. You open the door and find your wife hugging a 1 foot egg. "I will explain everything honey, but could you warm our baby for a while, I am hungry AF." | 1,249 |
Uluoch’s three hearts quickened as the sounds of the elevator stopped and the door opened. Light from the planet ship's roof blinded him for a moment but he could still make out the human’s welcoming party.
“Hello Mr Uluoch!” a human male said, putting his hand out in classic human style. ”I’m David. I’m to be your guide for the day.” The human, small for his kind, was bald with huge spectacles hanging from his face. Uluoch tried to smile just as his training had instructed. If the humans were disgusted by his looks, they didn’t show it.
“Hello and thank you for the invitation,” Uluoch replied while stepping off the elevator, reaching up with a tentacle and shaking the male’s hand. “Everyone in Altletren is quite looking forward to your demonstration.” Behind the male leader, was a trio of other humans. Two females and one male it would seem. All tall with long hair, smiling down on the small alien. David turned, pointing behind them, towards a corridor, long and white.
“Well,” David began as he walked towards the corridor. “I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.” Wordlessly, Uluoch followed, struggling to keep up with the long strides of the humans.
David, always smiling, took the ambassador through a series of corridors, all seemingly the same.
Finally, after several minutes and just as Uluoch thought he might need to ask for a rest, a sliding door open up and in they stepped into the planet’s main control room. The room was probably the largest that Uluoch had ever been in. Hundreds of humans, chairs, tables and computers had been squashed into the room. Humans of all shapes and sizes ran about frantically, shouting at one another as papers fell and computer screens flicker. The thing that caught his eyes, though, was the walls. Two were normal, huge but plain white like the corridors had been. The two others though weren’t even walls. Two sides of the room had been given over to glass so that the humans here were always looking out at the solar system to were making into a battleship.
“Extraordinary, isn’t it?” David said, hands on his hips as he slowly made his way to the window. “No matter how many times I see it, I’m still consumed by its beauty.” The human male was right of course, Uluoch couldn’t argue. The stars, the blackness and the few passing ships made for quite a sight.
“And yet,” Uluoch said, hoping his words wouldn’t fail him now. “The humans of Earth have decided to turn this great beauty into a warship.” David laughed, throwing his head back as he did. The trio that had been following them had slipped away, working at one desk or another.
“Yes well,” David smirked. “You can’t admire anything, especially beauty, if your dead.” Uluoch shook his head, knowing already his mission was futile. These humans will not give up on their foolish dream, he thought.
“Humans are the strongest known race in the galaxy. You’ve created such weapons that others could only dream to replicate. You’ve turned enemy planets into ships that you control from lightyears away. What does your kind have to fear?” Finally, the smile left David’s lips as he continued to stare out into the speckled blackness of the solar system.
“Something,” he whispered with looking at the ambassador. “Something even we haven’t fully figured out.” Uluoch was taken aback. An unnatural chill ran down his back.
“How?” he asked, moving slightly now to face the human once more. The worker’s behind them continued to scramble, unaware of the conversation happening at the window. “How is it that you cannot know…what is it exactly?” David shook his head, looking down on Uluoch with great trouble in his eyes.
“Betty!” David called out, looking over Uluoch now at a female human, sitting at a desk nearest them. “Betty, can you bring me a tablet, please? I want to show the ambassador here the Verminoth.”
“Verminoth?” Uluoch asked but David didn’t respond. He simply took a tablet from Betty who sat back down at her desk. For a few moments, David tapped away on the screen, ignoring the ambassador. Then, at last, the human turned the tablet towards the alien. On the screen was hundred and hundreds of differently coloured dots, all pulsing and twinkling in turn.
“So? Another solar system?” Uluoch questioned, wondering what was the significance of the image on the screen. “So what?”
“It’s not a solar system,” David answered, looking back at the blackness. “It's a living thing. A Verminoth. A god.” | 10 | The human has gone mad. First they made a ship the size of the moon. Then they strapped guns to a moon and made it flew. After that was a freaking planet. And now they’re turning an entire solar system into a battleship. | 16 |
She turned into the alleyway, gasping for breath as she dashed over months of accumulated refuse: bags of trash, old appliances, boxes upon boxes toppled in crooked piles. Behind her, they snarled and screeched, their razor-sharp claws scraping against the concrete.
She turned another corner, and another. The backways of this town were like a labyrinth, twisting in odd ways, paths blocked by abandoned cars and half-collapsed buildings. In front of her, a tall chain-link fence rose roughly ten feet high, crowned with barbed wire. The time it would take to climb it, much less carefully move around the razors protecting the other side, would give her pursuers ample opportunity to catch up.
She looked side to side searching for some alternative. A rusty fire escape hanged down from a burnt out building. It was up high, but a dumpster sat beneath it. She could jump off the dumpster, perhaps bounce off the wall, and reach the hanging ladder. Hopefully the black brick façade still had enough structural integrity to hold it.
She jumped onto the dumpster's top, took three preparatory huffs , and--
She felt the impact like a freight train. It was on her, its snarling, wet, hairy body pinning her on a rancid bag of trash. Its jaws snapped around her face, its breath heavy and eager. Where there was one, more were to follow. That was a certainty.
With a free hand, she retrieved a hatchet from her belt. Its blade was sharp--she had honed it this morning before setting out. It didn't require a big swing to do serious damage.
With her right hand, she began chopping at the beast's belly. It whined and recoiled, warm blood spurting from its wound. She could see in its once-human eyes the terror of a mortal wound; the realization of one's fleeting life. She wondered if there was still a human in there somewhere, a mere witness to the chaos they were causing.
For a moment she thought about apologizing, but what would be the point? For one thing, the creature would soon be dead. For another, she wasn't sorry.
She heaved the hatchet in the air and brought it down on the monster's skull. There was a solid crack as the blade hit the bone and red blood splashed outward all over her clothes.
This was a problem. In an age without power, without washing machines and laundry soap, hygiene was important. Her first priority was escaping before the monsters' pack caught up. Her second priority was to take a shower and find new clothes.
She readied herself to jump on the dumpster again, but as she sprang upwards, a stabbing pain radiated from her ankle. *Oh no*, she hissed as she grabbed her leg. This was bad. She couldn't run on this, much less jump around.
Echoes of galloping claws bounced off the building's walls. She readied both her hatchet and the machete from her belt. If she was going to survive--and that was a big if--she would need to be downright surgical with how she dispatched her attackers.
They rounded the corner, three of them, their jaws hanging open, bouncing with their wild, awkward gait. Their eyes glowed with that red light and their giant claws stomped over the broken cars and crates in their way.
She closed one eye and aimed down her hatchet's blade. She only gets one shot at this, and it needs to be perfect. With a fluid swing, she launched the hatchet through the air, its spin whistling as it flew.
It impacted into one of the monsters' shoulders, but it showed no sign of slowing. *Shit*. Now it was just her and the machete.
*Pop pop pop*.
She dropped at the loud noise. The monsters let loose a brief whine before collapsing mere inches from her. One of their mouths opened as their dying jaw spasmed and its tongue rolled out and touched her hand. Pools of blood collected on the ground, covering every inch of exposed concrete.
"Hey!" A voice shouted from above her. A human voice. She peered up and saw a man with a rifle in his hands. "Why are you wearing crocs?"
"What?" She must have misheard the question.
"Your shoes," he pointed. "They're crocs.?"
"Yes," she confirmed, her answer half question itself.
"Why?"
"I'm out here alone, covered in blood, and you want to know about my crocs?"
"Yeah."
She steadied herself upright, making sure she kept the weight off her bad ankle. She steadied herself by holding the fence beside her. "they breathe really well."
"They look dumb."
"I'm not really, uh...thinking about fashion these days."
"I can tell."
They stared at each other silently for a few moments.
"I'm going to throw you a ladder," he announced. "And then I'm taking you shopping." | 23 | "There's something strange about you... why are you wearing crocs?" "Really? You understand that I'm covered in blood, right?" "Not important, explain the crocs!" | 146 |
"Until today, thanks to you, I have not had to kill anyone for almost fifteen years."
Gil scrabbled backwards as he tried to get away from the man advancing on him. It has looked so easy. A small village, no parish guards, almost certainly no gold to be worthwhile, but more than enough food and beer to get them through the winter.
Plus some farmers daughters (and sons- Urzaak might have have been a she-ork, but she enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh as much as the next man) for entertainment.
So they had come charging in just after the crack of dawn, waving swords and threatening to cut them down if they didn't comply.
And this old man had come striding out from behind one of the cottages.
He didn't look like much- weathered skin, balding, beard almost lost to gray, paunch, and armed with just a wood axe.
Urzaak had been the first to die, when she came swaggering up to him intent on beating him to death with her mace. She never even got a chance to raise her weapon.
Gil didn't see the man move, but one moment Urzaak was alive, the next the side of her neck was split open with a single stroke of the old man's axe.
Four of the lads closest to the man had charged him- and died.
Three more had heard the fighting and came running. They had died immediately thereafter.
Realizing that they were in over their heads, Gil had called for the band to retreat. He had turned to run when he had felt the prickle of magic on his skin right before lightning had struck them down.
He had gotten caught at the edge of the blast, which was why he was still alive, the only one of his band still alive.
And that was why he was trying to crawl away as fast as he could from this very unassuming old man.
"W-who are you?" Gil rasped as the man loomed over him.
"Aselfirrth Ulafsson." answered the old man as he hefted his axe.
Before the head of the axe split his skull, Gil felt absolute terror at the fact that he had tried to raid the village that Aselfirrth Ulafsson, Scourge of Dragons, had decided to retire. | 19 | The bandits thought this village would be easy to raid, little did they know the old Hero had retired here. | 33 |
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