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[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Gunther trudged wearily toward the cave, his breathing labored from hours of plodding through the muddy banks of the Toffee Swamp. As he pulled his last booted foot from the muck and struck out on solid footing, he mumbled a prayer to whichever saint happened to be listening. Normally he had the time to be picky about prayer, but today was not one of those days.
Hesitantly, Sir Gunther took a few steps forward and leaned against the wall of the cave, drawing in slow, deep breaths in an attempt to quiet his pounding heart. The moisture-slick stone felt oddly warm against the palms of his hands. He sniffed the air. The entryway smelled of ash and reptile droppings. He was in the right place.
After collecting himself, Sir Gunther stepped away from the wall and watched the granite cavern pulse in and out in a steady breathing motion. He wondered for a moment if he was mistaken and had somehow ended up inside the belly of the creature that he sought. He mused over the thought, and soon decided that it was most likely true.
"Hello?" he shouted at the cave walls. "Hello? Can you hear me in here?" He took a moment to adjust his helmet, which all of a sudden felt much smaller than it had before. "I seek Sparky the Dragon!"
"Who goes there??" a great, booming voice replied.
"It is I, Sir Gunther of Rathskeller!" After a moment's pause, the knight added: "The one whom, a moment earlier, you so voraciously consumed!"
A thunderous noise, like the pounding of a titanic drum, echoed through the great chamber, coming steadily closer with each beat. Sir Gunther braced himself for the worst - surely the dragon was about to send him hurtling through its digestive system.
And then, as he peered into the inky depths of the cave, he saw it. A massive, scaly foot, easily the size of a full-grown man, came to rest upon the cave floor with a force that sent shockwaves across the bare rock.
"I dined on no knight this day," the voice rumbled. "Besides, I went vegetarian four or five decades ago. All that fiber works wonders in my old age."
A second foot thrust itself out of the darkness ahead of the first, coming to rest on the stony ground with a great thud. It was then that Sir Gunther realized that he was not in the dragon's stomach, but was, in fact, simply in a cave *with* the beast. The thought was of only mild comfort to him.
"I... I have journeyed long and far from Rathskeller to visit you, O Great Sparky!" the knight stammered. "Across the vast golden fields of Elysium! Through the dense, jagged Forest of Eternal Peril! Over the-"
"What in the blazes are you talking about, human?" The voice interrupted. "The town of Rathskeller is only two or three miles away."
Another footstep, and Sir Gunther could finally see the head of the beast. Its bright pink, undulating skin wrapped itself around three mouths, all of which spoke in unison.
"And another thing," the dragon continued, "Do *not* insult me with this 'Sparky' nonsense! My name is Sparcinious the Burning Ember, Scourge of Guttenberg, Ruiner of Empires! Get it right, human!"
"Um, I apologize, O Great Sparcinius the... uh..." Sir Gunther blinked again, and suddenly the dragon's head was pale white and studded with hundreds of tiny, crimson eyes that blinked with every syllable that he spoke. "...what was the rest of that again?"
The dragon let out a deep, ragged sigh from its three mouths, and in barely the blink of an eye, they coalesced into a single, gaping maw. "Nevermind. What brings you here, human?" As the dragon spoke, its great black tongue began to worm its way out of its mouth. "Do you wish to do battle? Slay me? Bring my head home as a trophy for some human female?"
"I, well, I was wondering," Sir Gunther continued, casually leaning against the cave wall. "Can I maybe, please, have one of your scales, O Terrible Spar..." He paused, his eyes growing wide as he watched the beast's tongue extend several feet below its chin and swing to and fro like a fleshy pendulum. "...er, whatever the rest of that was?"
The dragon's million eyes widened. Sir Gunther watched as they crawled like beetles toward the center of the creature's forehead, where they collected like water droplets into one Cyclopean eyelid.
"Ah!" the dragon gasped. "Ingested the Crimson Death mushroom, did we?"
"Yes, O Great... One," Sir Gunther said, hoping that the generic declaration of respect would suffice.
The dragon uttered a sharp guffaw. "You aren't the brightest flower in the field, are you, human?" As he spoke, Sir Gunther watched his tongue snake back into his mouth. Now the creature's reptilian scowl was impossibly wide, and when it spoke, it emitted puffs of rainbow-hued smoke from its nostrils. "Tell me. How long ago did you consume the fungus?"
"This past evening," Sir Gunther replied in the midst of struggling not to look at his own hands, which had elongated into furry, bat-like claws.
"In that case, the hallucinations have long since begun," Sparcinius said. "Death will come within a day's time." The dragon raised its gigantic right claw and, with a sound like the snapping of a thick tree branch, pried a canary yellow scale from its forehead. "Take this," he said, tossing the scale to rest at Sir Gunther's feet, where it landed with a thump. "Brew it for five minutes in boiling water and drink the resulting potion. The effects should wear off within an hour's time."
Sir Gunther bent down and picked up the scale in between two bat-talons. Curiously, it was much smaller than he expected - about the size of a rose petal.
"Go, now," the dragon sneered, "and leave me in peace. I have a lovely dinner salad to prepare."
Sir Gunther began to step back toward the cave entrance, his dilated pupils never leaving the monster before him. "Thank you, O Great Sparky!" he bellowed, before promptly turning tail and scurrying away as fast as his heavy leather-and-mail armor would allow.
"Sparcinius," the dragon mumbled grimly. As he spoke, a jet of flame shot forth from his nostrils, momentarily revealing his emerald-scaled body, no bigger than that of a large dog. "And what was that bumbling coward so afraid of, anyway?"
-------
Meanwhile, after having traversed the Cloud Mountains, ran the Rainbow Racetrack, and swim-walked the Seven Fathoms of Aphelion, Sir Gunther arrived back at his mansion in Rathskellar only to find that it had transformed into a three-story caramel flan in his absence. He spent a good twenty minutes attempting to eat his way through to the interior when, purely by happy chance, he stumbled upon the front door.
"Gunther! Thank God! Where have you been?" Princess Hilda screamed as he entered the door. "I've been worried sick about you!"
Gunther braced himself against the door frame. The entire world undulated around him, as though he were in the midst of a slow-motion earthquake. Furthermore, the Princess Hilda standing before him now possessed a few extra arms and also the face of a tarantula.
"Brew this for five minutes in boiling water," he said in between staccato breaths, tossing the scale in Hilda-Spider's general direction. "And make sure there's no poison mushrooms in it, please."
"For the thousandth time, I'm sorry!" Hilda said as she bent down to pick up the shiny, chartreuse-hued object. "It looked exactly like a porcini and I thought it would be perfect for my famous risotto."
"Just hurry, please," said an exasperated and suddenly very pale Sir Gunther.
Hilda shot her husband an icy glare and dashed over to the stove, scale in hand. With a grunt, she hoisted a kettle of steaming water off of the fireplace and decanted it in to a floral-patterned teapot on the counter. After replacing the kettle on its perch, she unceremoniously plopped the scale into the pot.
"You know," she said, resting a delicate hand on her hip and smiling a lovely arachnid smile at her knight, "it's rather difficult being a princess most of the time. There's matters of state to look after, protocol and etiquette to obey, and on top of all that, I need to take care of you, too."
"Right. So difficult," Sir Gunther replied through gritted teeth. "So very difficult indeed." | "Hear me warrior." the dragon said after setting the knight down.
sir ronceval of Parrl was a knight of no small skill, but aside from the fact that this towering, rust-red scale coated behemoth whose every word came with generous gouts of fire that sputtered and crept over its upper jaws like souls being sent to the heavens was many times his size and power, he'd dropped his sword when it had carried him away from the castle, but not before burning it to the ground with as much ire and venom as it could muster in the initial blast of flame, a hellfire so potent that it was as though it had been a waterfall of white-hot flame, as though someone had dumped the flaming lakes of hell onto the castle's formerly pristine white surface to char and blacken both it, and the people within.
ronceval's thoughts turned to the princess, his charge, as well as the king, and he felt a great rage gripping him as the dragon held him down while he struggled.
"LISTEN TO ME!" the dragon roared, its voice shook the air and the flames spilling from its maw flared out with even more strength, crawling over its scaled cheeks to lick its eyes, causing it to blink as it shouted.
"you killed them!" ronceval screamed.
"THEY WERE ALREADY DEAD! THAT ENTIRE COURT HAS BEEN DEAD FOR CENTURIES!!" the dragon protested. "I slew no innocents!! I merely struck an illusion! an illusion that foul princess cast for the sake of maintaining the province of landis!! open your eyes sir knight! I saved you before I even began my assault!!"
though he showed no signs of calming down, the dragon lifted its massive paw from his chest, and ronceval rose and ran at the dragon, beating its massive paw, fully the size of ten angry roncevals of parrl, in futility.
"where are you from?" the dragon asked at length. "what is your title?"
"I am ronceval of parrl." he replied and the name gave the dragon pause as he considered the implications.
"Yes, I do recall the old king of landis once had designs on a diplomatic treaty with parrl, trade agreements if i'm not mistaken...before his death that is."
"you claim he is dead, yet I saw him not moments before you-"
"a corpse and nothing more." the dragon explained dismissively. "he was being held together by necromancy, an illusion kept you from seeing or smelling the truth. what of the princess then? how old is she?"
"she is fully into womanhood, what does it matter-" ronceval asked angrily before the dragon shook his head, waving him to silence. "she was but a troubled youth when she began delving into sorcery...try though i did to protect her from her father's abuses, she could not stomach the suffering she was dealt when I was not around to protect her, in the end she lost trust to all, myself included-" the dragon glanced down at his arm, his eyes moving over the scales he'd grown accustomed to.
"yes....before I became this...thing. you see sir knight, I was once a great knight, the general of the landis armies and personal bodyguard to the princess, I was like a father to her, or perhaps an older brother. but things....they slowly grew worse, the princess fell far, so far in fact that by the time i noticed that she was delving into witchcraft, it was too late. the king moved to have her executed, thinking to make an example of his own daughter. I considered my loyalties then and there and decided to make the hard choice of stopping her death. I succeeded, the flames of the burning did not so much as touch her, but in return for my loyalty, I uncovered a startling truth. she wanted death, and in her twisted mind i'd robbed her of that privilege, so she cursed me, turning me into this dragon before setting her sights on her own father. horrified and confused, I fled to the mountains and eventually recovered enough to observe the kingdom, to try to piece together what had happened after I left. what i discovered was nothing short of jarring. the princess had slain the entire court and used her ever-growing powers to reanimate the dead, to maintain the semblance of a court and to keep the kingdom under her thumb. far from wishing to die, it appeared as though she decided that if she was to live, she would live for the sake of deserving death, and so the hell that is the landis you and i know came to be. this was the day I grew tired of watching my greatest failure as a friend and mentor continue and struck out, and you were caught in the crossfires. I beg you sir knight, leave this realm, tell parrl of what has occurred, keep well away from that kingdom unless it is to invade and free the people from their corrupt princess."
with that, the dragon flew off, leaving ronceval to his confusion atop a great, snow-capped mountain. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Hyperion drew his sword as he entered the bedchamber. Lit scented candles littered the shelves and dressers placed up against the wall bathing the enormous room in an orange glow. Hanging overhead was a metallic chandelier with five or six more lit candles. The walls were decorated with fine silk tapestries depicting the inhabitant's previous conquests.
On one side of the room Hyperion could see his friend's suit of armor laying neatly in the corner. The dragon let out a low bellow in order to signal to his friend that he had arrived. Hyperion's scales bristled at the thought of what might have happened to his friend. He crept through the room toward the center where the enormous bed lay. Something stirred under the covers. His tail stood erect. He unsheathed his sword ready for a fight.
With a loud and feral growl the princess burst out of the covers. She stood over the night stripped down to his underwear and bound to the bedpost with a leather strap. Scrawny arms and slender legs flapped and flailed at the dragon. Fire emerged from her behind lipstick laden lips as she screeched toward her adversary. Hyperion lifted his sword and blocked the flames. He met hers with flames of his own.
"You will not have him!" the creature said, "he's mine! We're meeting my parents for dinner later on tonight!"
The woman lunged off the bed at the dragon baring long, fake nails. Hyperion swung his tail. The princess let out a yelp with the impact of the noble dragon's tail. She landed on the wooden floor with a thud. While the woman was knocked out Hyperion rushed to the knight's side. He took a dagger from his side and cut the leather straps.
"Thank goodness you came," the knight said.
"Maybe this will teach you to stop paying attention to your other head."
"You don't have to tell me twice."
The princess on the floor started coming to. Holding her head, she rolled over and picked herself up. She staggered toward the dragon and the knight reaching out. She fell to her knees.
"You may have defeated me," she said, " but I still have my ladies in waiting. They will make quick work of you."
The princess collapsed once again and lost consciousness. Sounds of women screeching and howling came from behind the door on the other side of the bed chamber.
"Princess Ophelia?" one of the ladies in waiting called. Her nails could be heard scraping against the polished wood. "Is everything okay in there? Do we need to come in?"
"We have to get out of here," Hyperion said helping his friend with his armor. | "Oh, not this shit again."
Hrifbgueghn rubbed the soot from his eyes and poked his head out to see the villagers scurrying away. The girl was, as usual, chained to the stake that they had hastily pounded into the ground in front of his lair. Knowing the "Knight" would be along presently, he decided to ask the "Princess" how she got herself into this mess.
"Er, uh, HAROOF!" he cleared his throat, in an effort to not frighten her anymore than she already was. But the poor thing collapsed and started sobbing, unintelligible jabber bubbling up through her snot and tears.
"It's Okay, Princess, I'm not going to eat you."
"I'M NOT A PRINCESS!" she screamed/wheezed.
"I know."
"Then why did you call me that? And how can you talk? You have no lips, and your mouth is all teeth and fire."
Hrifbgueghn summed her up pretty quick, this one had more spirit than most, and she seemed to actually believe him when he told her he wasn't going to eat her. He'd been through this so many times, and he was glad that he really wasn't going to have to eat her, breaking his word always made his tummy a little unsettled.
"Well, I'm not really talking, you are hearing my thoughts, and I can sort of hear yours, but please, speak clearly, it makes it easier for me to understand you." He did posses the ability to read her thoughts, but right now they were mostly a mass of confusion fear anger and regret.
"He swore to me that I would be safe!"
"The King?"
"Yes, The King"
The King, what an asshole, Thought Hrifbgueghn.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing ... I didn't mean for you to hear that."
Just then the "Knight" came gallumphing into view on his poor old swayback mare. The kid looked like just that, a kid, dressed up in pots and pans riding the family dog.
"Leave her be! Foul Beast!" yelled the kid, trying his best to not let his voice crack.
"Harumph!" belched Hrifbgueghn, sending smoke rings into the air. This stopped the "Knight" in his tracks. "You gonna try to slay me now or something?"
"Yes, and rescue the Princess!"
"Okay, I'm going to try to make this easy for the both of you, "You, Princess, did the King catch you in bed with one of his "Rightful Heirs"?
"Uhm, uh ... yes?"
"And you, "Good Sir Knight" were, perchance hired by the King to rescue the kidnapped Maiden Fair?
"Well, I think 'Hired' makes me sound sort of mercenary, don't you thi ..."
"YES OR NO?!"
"Yes!"
"Okay, here's how this is going to play out, you two idiots have two choices, leave together, or leave separately. If you leave together, I feel I need to warn you, Sir Pots-n-Pans, that there's a more than likely chance that Princess Scullery Maid here is pregnant with the Prince's bastard child. (A weak protest from the "Princess" was stifled by a puff of smoke, and some flames.) If you leave separately, you're both on your own, don't expect me swooping down to save you at the last minute from the Evil Henchmen or anything crazy like that, Got it?"
"Got it."
"Got it."
"Now, they won't be expecting you back at all, Little Miss Roll in the Hay, so you can just leave out the back of the canyon and never be seen or heard from again. (With this, Hrifbgueghn scattered a bunch of gold coins at her feet, and told her to "Don't pay the Ferryman until he gets you to the other side."
"As for you, "Good Sir Knight" if you trust The King, you can go back, plead mercy, and hope he doesn't have Sir Choppy take your head ...
"Right then, she'll need someone to protect her from the Ferryman, so, I'll be going with her if that's alright with you." The Knight said said while scooping ancient gold coins into his helmet, "Thanks! Bye-bye!"
"They're going to make a cute couple", Hrifbgueghn thought to himself, as he lifted into the air, wheeled about, and started for the Castle. "I haven't had King in almost thirty years, this is going to be good."
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Gunther trudged wearily toward the cave, his breathing labored from hours of plodding through the muddy banks of the Toffee Swamp. As he pulled his last booted foot from the muck and struck out on solid footing, he mumbled a prayer to whichever saint happened to be listening. Normally he had the time to be picky about prayer, but today was not one of those days.
Hesitantly, Sir Gunther took a few steps forward and leaned against the wall of the cave, drawing in slow, deep breaths in an attempt to quiet his pounding heart. The moisture-slick stone felt oddly warm against the palms of his hands. He sniffed the air. The entryway smelled of ash and reptile droppings. He was in the right place.
After collecting himself, Sir Gunther stepped away from the wall and watched the granite cavern pulse in and out in a steady breathing motion. He wondered for a moment if he was mistaken and had somehow ended up inside the belly of the creature that he sought. He mused over the thought, and soon decided that it was most likely true.
"Hello?" he shouted at the cave walls. "Hello? Can you hear me in here?" He took a moment to adjust his helmet, which all of a sudden felt much smaller than it had before. "I seek Sparky the Dragon!"
"Who goes there??" a great, booming voice replied.
"It is I, Sir Gunther of Rathskeller!" After a moment's pause, the knight added: "The one whom, a moment earlier, you so voraciously consumed!"
A thunderous noise, like the pounding of a titanic drum, echoed through the great chamber, coming steadily closer with each beat. Sir Gunther braced himself for the worst - surely the dragon was about to send him hurtling through its digestive system.
And then, as he peered into the inky depths of the cave, he saw it. A massive, scaly foot, easily the size of a full-grown man, came to rest upon the cave floor with a force that sent shockwaves across the bare rock.
"I dined on no knight this day," the voice rumbled. "Besides, I went vegetarian four or five decades ago. All that fiber works wonders in my old age."
A second foot thrust itself out of the darkness ahead of the first, coming to rest on the stony ground with a great thud. It was then that Sir Gunther realized that he was not in the dragon's stomach, but was, in fact, simply in a cave *with* the beast. The thought was of only mild comfort to him.
"I... I have journeyed long and far from Rathskeller to visit you, O Great Sparky!" the knight stammered. "Across the vast golden fields of Elysium! Through the dense, jagged Forest of Eternal Peril! Over the-"
"What in the blazes are you talking about, human?" The voice interrupted. "The town of Rathskeller is only two or three miles away."
Another footstep, and Sir Gunther could finally see the head of the beast. Its bright pink, undulating skin wrapped itself around three mouths, all of which spoke in unison.
"And another thing," the dragon continued, "Do *not* insult me with this 'Sparky' nonsense! My name is Sparcinious the Burning Ember, Scourge of Guttenberg, Ruiner of Empires! Get it right, human!"
"Um, I apologize, O Great Sparcinius the... uh..." Sir Gunther blinked again, and suddenly the dragon's head was pale white and studded with hundreds of tiny, crimson eyes that blinked with every syllable that he spoke. "...what was the rest of that again?"
The dragon let out a deep, ragged sigh from its three mouths, and in barely the blink of an eye, they coalesced into a single, gaping maw. "Nevermind. What brings you here, human?" As the dragon spoke, its great black tongue began to worm its way out of its mouth. "Do you wish to do battle? Slay me? Bring my head home as a trophy for some human female?"
"I, well, I was wondering," Sir Gunther continued, casually leaning against the cave wall. "Can I maybe, please, have one of your scales, O Terrible Spar..." He paused, his eyes growing wide as he watched the beast's tongue extend several feet below its chin and swing to and fro like a fleshy pendulum. "...er, whatever the rest of that was?"
The dragon's million eyes widened. Sir Gunther watched as they crawled like beetles toward the center of the creature's forehead, where they collected like water droplets into one Cyclopean eyelid.
"Ah!" the dragon gasped. "Ingested the Crimson Death mushroom, did we?"
"Yes, O Great... One," Sir Gunther said, hoping that the generic declaration of respect would suffice.
The dragon uttered a sharp guffaw. "You aren't the brightest flower in the field, are you, human?" As he spoke, Sir Gunther watched his tongue snake back into his mouth. Now the creature's reptilian scowl was impossibly wide, and when it spoke, it emitted puffs of rainbow-hued smoke from its nostrils. "Tell me. How long ago did you consume the fungus?"
"This past evening," Sir Gunther replied in the midst of struggling not to look at his own hands, which had elongated into furry, bat-like claws.
"In that case, the hallucinations have long since begun," Sparcinius said. "Death will come within a day's time." The dragon raised its gigantic right claw and, with a sound like the snapping of a thick tree branch, pried a canary yellow scale from its forehead. "Take this," he said, tossing the scale to rest at Sir Gunther's feet, where it landed with a thump. "Brew it for five minutes in boiling water and drink the resulting potion. The effects should wear off within an hour's time."
Sir Gunther bent down and picked up the scale in between two bat-talons. Curiously, it was much smaller than he expected - about the size of a rose petal.
"Go, now," the dragon sneered, "and leave me in peace. I have a lovely dinner salad to prepare."
Sir Gunther began to step back toward the cave entrance, his dilated pupils never leaving the monster before him. "Thank you, O Great Sparky!" he bellowed, before promptly turning tail and scurrying away as fast as his heavy leather-and-mail armor would allow.
"Sparcinius," the dragon mumbled grimly. As he spoke, a jet of flame shot forth from his nostrils, momentarily revealing his emerald-scaled body, no bigger than that of a large dog. "And what was that bumbling coward so afraid of, anyway?"
-------
Meanwhile, after having traversed the Cloud Mountains, ran the Rainbow Racetrack, and swim-walked the Seven Fathoms of Aphelion, Sir Gunther arrived back at his mansion in Rathskellar only to find that it had transformed into a three-story caramel flan in his absence. He spent a good twenty minutes attempting to eat his way through to the interior when, purely by happy chance, he stumbled upon the front door.
"Gunther! Thank God! Where have you been?" Princess Hilda screamed as he entered the door. "I've been worried sick about you!"
Gunther braced himself against the door frame. The entire world undulated around him, as though he were in the midst of a slow-motion earthquake. Furthermore, the Princess Hilda standing before him now possessed a few extra arms and also the face of a tarantula.
"Brew this for five minutes in boiling water," he said in between staccato breaths, tossing the scale in Hilda-Spider's general direction. "And make sure there's no poison mushrooms in it, please."
"For the thousandth time, I'm sorry!" Hilda said as she bent down to pick up the shiny, chartreuse-hued object. "It looked exactly like a porcini and I thought it would be perfect for my famous risotto."
"Just hurry, please," said an exasperated and suddenly very pale Sir Gunther.
Hilda shot her husband an icy glare and dashed over to the stove, scale in hand. With a grunt, she hoisted a kettle of steaming water off of the fireplace and decanted it in to a floral-patterned teapot on the counter. After replacing the kettle on its perch, she unceremoniously plopped the scale into the pot.
"You know," she said, resting a delicate hand on her hip and smiling a lovely arachnid smile at her knight, "it's rather difficult being a princess most of the time. There's matters of state to look after, protocol and etiquette to obey, and on top of all that, I need to take care of you, too."
"Right. So difficult," Sir Gunther replied through gritted teeth. "So very difficult indeed." | "Oh, not this shit again."
Hrifbgueghn rubbed the soot from his eyes and poked his head out to see the villagers scurrying away. The girl was, as usual, chained to the stake that they had hastily pounded into the ground in front of his lair. Knowing the "Knight" would be along presently, he decided to ask the "Princess" how she got herself into this mess.
"Er, uh, HAROOF!" he cleared his throat, in an effort to not frighten her anymore than she already was. But the poor thing collapsed and started sobbing, unintelligible jabber bubbling up through her snot and tears.
"It's Okay, Princess, I'm not going to eat you."
"I'M NOT A PRINCESS!" she screamed/wheezed.
"I know."
"Then why did you call me that? And how can you talk? You have no lips, and your mouth is all teeth and fire."
Hrifbgueghn summed her up pretty quick, this one had more spirit than most, and she seemed to actually believe him when he told her he wasn't going to eat her. He'd been through this so many times, and he was glad that he really wasn't going to have to eat her, breaking his word always made his tummy a little unsettled.
"Well, I'm not really talking, you are hearing my thoughts, and I can sort of hear yours, but please, speak clearly, it makes it easier for me to understand you." He did posses the ability to read her thoughts, but right now they were mostly a mass of confusion fear anger and regret.
"He swore to me that I would be safe!"
"The King?"
"Yes, The King"
The King, what an asshole, Thought Hrifbgueghn.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing ... I didn't mean for you to hear that."
Just then the "Knight" came gallumphing into view on his poor old swayback mare. The kid looked like just that, a kid, dressed up in pots and pans riding the family dog.
"Leave her be! Foul Beast!" yelled the kid, trying his best to not let his voice crack.
"Harumph!" belched Hrifbgueghn, sending smoke rings into the air. This stopped the "Knight" in his tracks. "You gonna try to slay me now or something?"
"Yes, and rescue the Princess!"
"Okay, I'm going to try to make this easy for the both of you, "You, Princess, did the King catch you in bed with one of his "Rightful Heirs"?
"Uhm, uh ... yes?"
"And you, "Good Sir Knight" were, perchance hired by the King to rescue the kidnapped Maiden Fair?
"Well, I think 'Hired' makes me sound sort of mercenary, don't you thi ..."
"YES OR NO?!"
"Yes!"
"Okay, here's how this is going to play out, you two idiots have two choices, leave together, or leave separately. If you leave together, I feel I need to warn you, Sir Pots-n-Pans, that there's a more than likely chance that Princess Scullery Maid here is pregnant with the Prince's bastard child. (A weak protest from the "Princess" was stifled by a puff of smoke, and some flames.) If you leave separately, you're both on your own, don't expect me swooping down to save you at the last minute from the Evil Henchmen or anything crazy like that, Got it?"
"Got it."
"Got it."
"Now, they won't be expecting you back at all, Little Miss Roll in the Hay, so you can just leave out the back of the canyon and never be seen or heard from again. (With this, Hrifbgueghn scattered a bunch of gold coins at her feet, and told her to "Don't pay the Ferryman until he gets you to the other side."
"As for you, "Good Sir Knight" if you trust The King, you can go back, plead mercy, and hope he doesn't have Sir Choppy take your head ...
"Right then, she'll need someone to protect her from the Ferryman, so, I'll be going with her if that's alright with you." The Knight said said while scooping ancient gold coins into his helmet, "Thanks! Bye-bye!"
"They're going to make a cute couple", Hrifbgueghn thought to himself, as he lifted into the air, wheeled about, and started for the Castle. "I haven't had King in almost thirty years, this is going to be good."
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "I was pulled from the local brothel by my fragile yet fateful squire Elrish. I'm sure he sounded something like this while attempting to pull me away from the heaven I found myself in."
"Pppp...pardon me, great lord Martin. Slayer of Evil, Lover of Women, and Bringer of Joy"
Elrish stumbled forward sluggishly to place his hand on the back of Martins right shoulder only to miss by a foot and fall flat on his face.
"I didn't say soooch (belch) such a think as...um..as that."
"Good god man, Get a hold of yourself and stop hogging all the rum."
Martin snatches the rum from Elrish and takes three long gulps then continues his tale.
"As I was saying. I was forcefully removed from this pleasure, the pleasure of helping a poor lass down on her luck of course, by kings order. The king then told me to quest here and well, kill you. You see we became something of a legend and were called upon to slay any monsters or creatures that may harm the people of this kingdom. And this legend all started in a small village far to the west. Me and sweet, fragile Elrish here.."
"Not fragile" Elrish belched out.
"Says the man flat on his back. Now as I was saying me and sweet, dumb, fragile, child-like Elrish here (Elrish's hands reach from the ground toward the bottle only to have it ripped away by Martin who takes yet another swig) were taking a nice stroll through the beautiful country side."
"We were fleeing" Elrish said as he slumped himself over a dark, slimy rock.
"Perhaps we were fleeing who can remember? All I recall is the stunning scenery and the grace of the steeds we rode at full speed."
"Stolen steeds."
"Well yes, stolen from an evil man hell bent on over pricing his horses." Martin now becoming sluggish himself.
"Twas an old man, Pleasant in fact."
"Well if denying a man in need of a horse is pleasa-"
"You fucked his daughter after he graciously invited us to stay the night."
"She was very good to us, fed us well and made our beds. Was I to deny her when she entered my chambers?"
A booming voice crackled and echoed towards them. "ON WITH YOUR FOOLISH TALE!!!!"
Martin, looking fearful, clears his throat. "Right, so before we reached this small town we see what appears to be a body lying on a hill in the distance. So naturally, being the good upstanding gentlemen that we are, we go to see if we can help. Only this was no human body it was a dire wolf and a big one at that. With the knowledge of the gold we would receive from the fur of a dire wolf we have a few drinks in celebration."
"A bottle." Elrish whispers
"Being as we were a little drunk mind you, we seemed to not be able to skin this beast in a proper manner. In fact we quite butchered the thing and decided to sleep off the liquors' hold on us. Then we awoke to see a crowd of people standing around us. We thought perhaps we'd been caught but it turns out they were commoners of the local town we sought. And this dire wolf was a tormentor of theirs for years. They paraded us into town like kings and praised us. Some even cried at our feet. It was all quite fetching if I may say so myself."
"Aye, they gave us plenty of food, women, and mead." Elrish spat this out now standing on his feet next to Martin.
"This praise went on for days and the story of our heroism glided throughout the kingdom only getting more and more embellished as it worked its way to the kings ear. And when it finally reached his ear we were plucked from that glorious town and thrown before the king where I was knighted and Elrish was named my squire."
"Twas bullshit that. I should have been the Knighted one."
"Well you shouldn't have drank so much to the point of passing out. The people had many questions. What was I to do?"
Elrish rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle out of Martins hand to take a swig.
Martin smirks and proceeded to say "The king then told us we are to slay any monsters or creatures that bring fear and death to his people and so with no real choice we set off to do just that. And to our luck we found that people are afraid of just about anything. Each story was as foolish as the last. There was the Ghost of the Hollow Woods which only appeared at full moon. It was only a white sheet high in a tree that caught the light of the moon. Then there was the Massive Tunnel Snake that would drag you under if given the chance. Turns out that was just a fat wood chuck, Elrish now keeps him as a pet."
"I call him Chuck Elrish the 3rd. Cute little bugger he is. Turns out hes a bourbon man." Elrish leans in with a hand to his cheek as if to whisper. "Keeps him from biting it does. Oh (hiccup) and don't forget about the Shrieking Banshee of Western Swallow. Now that was just an old toad. I think I still got a bit of him on me boot." Elrish struggles to lift his left boot then gives up. "well its down there somewhere." (hiccup).
Martin then steps forward to once again take control of the story.
"So you see that's what brought us to were we stand today, to kill...(Martin, quivering, takes another drink from the bottle of rum) a dragon."
A massive black scaly face with fangs the length of a mans arm and eyes as gold as the kings crown slowly inches into the moonlight that seeps into the entrance of the cave. All they can hear is the faint sound of water dripping from above and echoing deep as they await their death.
"MUHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA" The dragon laughs hysterically and slams his menacing paw to the ground over and over. The wind of his laughter blows back Martin and Elrishs hair while the slamming of his paw knocks them to the ground. The dragon looks back at them with a frightening grin and says with his booming voice " I am Morgune, It is a pleasure to meet you boys."
Martin and Elrish slowly stand and dust themselves off still shaking with fear. "Yes, well yes it's also quite the pleasure to meet you."
Elrish forces a quivering smile "Aye, it sure is."
Morgune leans in close and asked softly. "Now what reward do you receive by killing me?"
Martin takes a submissive step back. "Well we are to be paid in a mountain of gold and I am to wed the princess. Her beauty knows no bounds as does her cruelty. Some would say she is fair and just, but any man with sense would say shes...well a bit of..."
Elrish interrupts. "She's a cunt." (belch)
Morgune Ponders for a time and offers a sinister counter offer. "How would you two like all the kings gold and Martin how would you like to be free of this princess?"
Both men spit out the rum they were sharing and say at the same time. "Well sir I'd love nothing more" (Martin)
"Well shit I'd love nothing more"(Elrish)
"Then rulers and conquerors you shall be. Free from the shrill princess and rich beyond your dreams. I love nothing more then a good tale and yours, though good, is only just beginning."
| "Should you have the honour of rescuing my daughter, the beautiful princess Yazariya from that lair, you may take her hand and rule alongside her."
Prince Renal nodded respectfully in silence, for he was recognizing the grief and sorrow of the king and also a father of the poor child. The princess was missing for 20 years now, snatched away from her cradle as a newborn. And yet her father never gave up on her. He sent many brave souls after her trail, certain she was alive and held captive from the beast. An effort in vain as all of them went through heaven's doors.
Many tried to convince him he was wasting his time and resources and men, his queen included. “Let the poor girl rest in peace, my dear. We owe her this.”, but none of their words reached the mourning father. Fateful to his promise he made to himself, he sent elite divisions and armies after the beast. None of them successful.
By advice of his trusted men, the ruler decided to trust not brute force but wit and tactics. By sending single warriors or knights, the chances of them to trick the dragon or sneak right past him were higher. And the sacrifice was far smaller.
Prince Renal was determined to do his best or die trying. He wanted to help not only the innocent damsel in distress but to ease her father as well. And the idea of a union between their kingdoms would mean only well for their people. He prepared his armor and his best horse. He also took his father's sword, ready to slay if needed.
It took him two weeks to find the place described by tales all around. He stood before a high tower, lonely in a green field. The old stone was covered with moss and ivy. Dead silence ruled the lands as birds were quiet and the air was still. Prince Renal got off his horse and dared step forward. Not a sign from the dragon. Was this a trap? Did he sense his presence from afar?
He came upon a simple wooden door, which wasn’t hidden nor unapproachable. It wasn’t locked either and with ease he opened the door. From the distance within, somewhere in the dark, he heard the rattle of shackles or so he thought. “My fair maiden!”
Before he can rush in after his promised one, a dirty beast hidden in the shadows grasped him and knocked him down. It bit his arm and tore his flesh. He screamed in agony and tried to pierce the beast but it did not feel any pain. It screamed in triumph and in blood lust, and attacked again.
Renal could barely look at what attacked him as he tried to push the thing away. He could see multiple lesions on its faint skin as it outlined the bones underneath like a map outlining mountains. It barely had any hairs but its teeth were sharp and it was merciless. At one point Renal was sure it would end his life before he can manage to escape. Its eyes were cruel and thirsty.
He couldn’t outrun it. He couldn’t overpower it. His head was heavy and he felt dizzy. Was he poisoned? Was this black magic? The thing jumped forward and tried to reach for his hand, he attacked back desperately trying to cut off its head. But the agile monster evaded and tacked him again. Before it could bite him, he clutched a nearby stone and smashed it against its head. And even though he managed to kick it away from himself, he was unable to get up or move at all. Thick roots were rambled around and held him down, now crushing his body and bones. The grip grew tighter around his ankles and arms.
"No running away now, love." - the thing giggled while getting up. Renal was unable to believe that its rotten mouth was capable of speech. Its voice was just as hideous as its looks. It was sarcastic and mocking and just the sound of it made him shiver with disgust. "Save me from my curse, dearie. Let me feast upon your valiant heart. If it is such truly."
Before the thing could attack one final time, Renal heard wings flapping. A shadow devoured them, from above a flying beast dived without a second doubt. A nature’s force, the dragon stood between the man and the beast. The thing stepped back, hissing.
Yazariya knew the dragon’s fire couldn’t reach her but despite that a dragon should never be underestimated.
"You’re back." - She laughed. Renal could feel how bitter she was from the fact. Yet, she stared at him while she talked to the dragon. "Why did you have to come back?"
The dragon growled and tore the roots around Renal’s body with one of his paws. The wench looked at them furious, clutching her fists and lips into a twisted smile. Distant trees began moving, screeching. The dragon was ready to take any of her attacks.
“Run, you fool!”
Renal got on his feed, shaking. The horse was nowhere to be found, but he turned around and ran as fast as he can.
The child was left behind, alone, distant from everyone and unwanted - even from her own mother. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Gunther trudged wearily toward the cave, his breathing labored from hours of plodding through the muddy banks of the Toffee Swamp. As he pulled his last booted foot from the muck and struck out on solid footing, he mumbled a prayer to whichever saint happened to be listening. Normally he had the time to be picky about prayer, but today was not one of those days.
Hesitantly, Sir Gunther took a few steps forward and leaned against the wall of the cave, drawing in slow, deep breaths in an attempt to quiet his pounding heart. The moisture-slick stone felt oddly warm against the palms of his hands. He sniffed the air. The entryway smelled of ash and reptile droppings. He was in the right place.
After collecting himself, Sir Gunther stepped away from the wall and watched the granite cavern pulse in and out in a steady breathing motion. He wondered for a moment if he was mistaken and had somehow ended up inside the belly of the creature that he sought. He mused over the thought, and soon decided that it was most likely true.
"Hello?" he shouted at the cave walls. "Hello? Can you hear me in here?" He took a moment to adjust his helmet, which all of a sudden felt much smaller than it had before. "I seek Sparky the Dragon!"
"Who goes there??" a great, booming voice replied.
"It is I, Sir Gunther of Rathskeller!" After a moment's pause, the knight added: "The one whom, a moment earlier, you so voraciously consumed!"
A thunderous noise, like the pounding of a titanic drum, echoed through the great chamber, coming steadily closer with each beat. Sir Gunther braced himself for the worst - surely the dragon was about to send him hurtling through its digestive system.
And then, as he peered into the inky depths of the cave, he saw it. A massive, scaly foot, easily the size of a full-grown man, came to rest upon the cave floor with a force that sent shockwaves across the bare rock.
"I dined on no knight this day," the voice rumbled. "Besides, I went vegetarian four or five decades ago. All that fiber works wonders in my old age."
A second foot thrust itself out of the darkness ahead of the first, coming to rest on the stony ground with a great thud. It was then that Sir Gunther realized that he was not in the dragon's stomach, but was, in fact, simply in a cave *with* the beast. The thought was of only mild comfort to him.
"I... I have journeyed long and far from Rathskeller to visit you, O Great Sparky!" the knight stammered. "Across the vast golden fields of Elysium! Through the dense, jagged Forest of Eternal Peril! Over the-"
"What in the blazes are you talking about, human?" The voice interrupted. "The town of Rathskeller is only two or three miles away."
Another footstep, and Sir Gunther could finally see the head of the beast. Its bright pink, undulating skin wrapped itself around three mouths, all of which spoke in unison.
"And another thing," the dragon continued, "Do *not* insult me with this 'Sparky' nonsense! My name is Sparcinious the Burning Ember, Scourge of Guttenberg, Ruiner of Empires! Get it right, human!"
"Um, I apologize, O Great Sparcinius the... uh..." Sir Gunther blinked again, and suddenly the dragon's head was pale white and studded with hundreds of tiny, crimson eyes that blinked with every syllable that he spoke. "...what was the rest of that again?"
The dragon let out a deep, ragged sigh from its three mouths, and in barely the blink of an eye, they coalesced into a single, gaping maw. "Nevermind. What brings you here, human?" As the dragon spoke, its great black tongue began to worm its way out of its mouth. "Do you wish to do battle? Slay me? Bring my head home as a trophy for some human female?"
"I, well, I was wondering," Sir Gunther continued, casually leaning against the cave wall. "Can I maybe, please, have one of your scales, O Terrible Spar..." He paused, his eyes growing wide as he watched the beast's tongue extend several feet below its chin and swing to and fro like a fleshy pendulum. "...er, whatever the rest of that was?"
The dragon's million eyes widened. Sir Gunther watched as they crawled like beetles toward the center of the creature's forehead, where they collected like water droplets into one Cyclopean eyelid.
"Ah!" the dragon gasped. "Ingested the Crimson Death mushroom, did we?"
"Yes, O Great... One," Sir Gunther said, hoping that the generic declaration of respect would suffice.
The dragon uttered a sharp guffaw. "You aren't the brightest flower in the field, are you, human?" As he spoke, Sir Gunther watched his tongue snake back into his mouth. Now the creature's reptilian scowl was impossibly wide, and when it spoke, it emitted puffs of rainbow-hued smoke from its nostrils. "Tell me. How long ago did you consume the fungus?"
"This past evening," Sir Gunther replied in the midst of struggling not to look at his own hands, which had elongated into furry, bat-like claws.
"In that case, the hallucinations have long since begun," Sparcinius said. "Death will come within a day's time." The dragon raised its gigantic right claw and, with a sound like the snapping of a thick tree branch, pried a canary yellow scale from its forehead. "Take this," he said, tossing the scale to rest at Sir Gunther's feet, where it landed with a thump. "Brew it for five minutes in boiling water and drink the resulting potion. The effects should wear off within an hour's time."
Sir Gunther bent down and picked up the scale in between two bat-talons. Curiously, it was much smaller than he expected - about the size of a rose petal.
"Go, now," the dragon sneered, "and leave me in peace. I have a lovely dinner salad to prepare."
Sir Gunther began to step back toward the cave entrance, his dilated pupils never leaving the monster before him. "Thank you, O Great Sparky!" he bellowed, before promptly turning tail and scurrying away as fast as his heavy leather-and-mail armor would allow.
"Sparcinius," the dragon mumbled grimly. As he spoke, a jet of flame shot forth from his nostrils, momentarily revealing his emerald-scaled body, no bigger than that of a large dog. "And what was that bumbling coward so afraid of, anyway?"
-------
Meanwhile, after having traversed the Cloud Mountains, ran the Rainbow Racetrack, and swim-walked the Seven Fathoms of Aphelion, Sir Gunther arrived back at his mansion in Rathskellar only to find that it had transformed into a three-story caramel flan in his absence. He spent a good twenty minutes attempting to eat his way through to the interior when, purely by happy chance, he stumbled upon the front door.
"Gunther! Thank God! Where have you been?" Princess Hilda screamed as he entered the door. "I've been worried sick about you!"
Gunther braced himself against the door frame. The entire world undulated around him, as though he were in the midst of a slow-motion earthquake. Furthermore, the Princess Hilda standing before him now possessed a few extra arms and also the face of a tarantula.
"Brew this for five minutes in boiling water," he said in between staccato breaths, tossing the scale in Hilda-Spider's general direction. "And make sure there's no poison mushrooms in it, please."
"For the thousandth time, I'm sorry!" Hilda said as she bent down to pick up the shiny, chartreuse-hued object. "It looked exactly like a porcini and I thought it would be perfect for my famous risotto."
"Just hurry, please," said an exasperated and suddenly very pale Sir Gunther.
Hilda shot her husband an icy glare and dashed over to the stove, scale in hand. With a grunt, she hoisted a kettle of steaming water off of the fireplace and decanted it in to a floral-patterned teapot on the counter. After replacing the kettle on its perch, she unceremoniously plopped the scale into the pot.
"You know," she said, resting a delicate hand on her hip and smiling a lovely arachnid smile at her knight, "it's rather difficult being a princess most of the time. There's matters of state to look after, protocol and etiquette to obey, and on top of all that, I need to take care of you, too."
"Right. So difficult," Sir Gunther replied through gritted teeth. "So very difficult indeed." | "Should you have the honour of rescuing my daughter, the beautiful princess Yazariya from that lair, you may take her hand and rule alongside her."
Prince Renal nodded respectfully in silence, for he was recognizing the grief and sorrow of the king and also a father of the poor child. The princess was missing for 20 years now, snatched away from her cradle as a newborn. And yet her father never gave up on her. He sent many brave souls after her trail, certain she was alive and held captive from the beast. An effort in vain as all of them went through heaven's doors.
Many tried to convince him he was wasting his time and resources and men, his queen included. “Let the poor girl rest in peace, my dear. We owe her this.”, but none of their words reached the mourning father. Fateful to his promise he made to himself, he sent elite divisions and armies after the beast. None of them successful.
By advice of his trusted men, the ruler decided to trust not brute force but wit and tactics. By sending single warriors or knights, the chances of them to trick the dragon or sneak right past him were higher. And the sacrifice was far smaller.
Prince Renal was determined to do his best or die trying. He wanted to help not only the innocent damsel in distress but to ease her father as well. And the idea of a union between their kingdoms would mean only well for their people. He prepared his armor and his best horse. He also took his father's sword, ready to slay if needed.
It took him two weeks to find the place described by tales all around. He stood before a high tower, lonely in a green field. The old stone was covered with moss and ivy. Dead silence ruled the lands as birds were quiet and the air was still. Prince Renal got off his horse and dared step forward. Not a sign from the dragon. Was this a trap? Did he sense his presence from afar?
He came upon a simple wooden door, which wasn’t hidden nor unapproachable. It wasn’t locked either and with ease he opened the door. From the distance within, somewhere in the dark, he heard the rattle of shackles or so he thought. “My fair maiden!”
Before he can rush in after his promised one, a dirty beast hidden in the shadows grasped him and knocked him down. It bit his arm and tore his flesh. He screamed in agony and tried to pierce the beast but it did not feel any pain. It screamed in triumph and in blood lust, and attacked again.
Renal could barely look at what attacked him as he tried to push the thing away. He could see multiple lesions on its faint skin as it outlined the bones underneath like a map outlining mountains. It barely had any hairs but its teeth were sharp and it was merciless. At one point Renal was sure it would end his life before he can manage to escape. Its eyes were cruel and thirsty.
He couldn’t outrun it. He couldn’t overpower it. His head was heavy and he felt dizzy. Was he poisoned? Was this black magic? The thing jumped forward and tried to reach for his hand, he attacked back desperately trying to cut off its head. But the agile monster evaded and tacked him again. Before it could bite him, he clutched a nearby stone and smashed it against its head. And even though he managed to kick it away from himself, he was unable to get up or move at all. Thick roots were rambled around and held him down, now crushing his body and bones. The grip grew tighter around his ankles and arms.
"No running away now, love." - the thing giggled while getting up. Renal was unable to believe that its rotten mouth was capable of speech. Its voice was just as hideous as its looks. It was sarcastic and mocking and just the sound of it made him shiver with disgust. "Save me from my curse, dearie. Let me feast upon your valiant heart. If it is such truly."
Before the thing could attack one final time, Renal heard wings flapping. A shadow devoured them, from above a flying beast dived without a second doubt. A nature’s force, the dragon stood between the man and the beast. The thing stepped back, hissing.
Yazariya knew the dragon’s fire couldn’t reach her but despite that a dragon should never be underestimated.
"You’re back." - She laughed. Renal could feel how bitter she was from the fact. Yet, she stared at him while she talked to the dragon. "Why did you have to come back?"
The dragon growled and tore the roots around Renal’s body with one of his paws. The wench looked at them furious, clutching her fists and lips into a twisted smile. Distant trees began moving, screeching. The dragon was ready to take any of her attacks.
“Run, you fool!”
Renal got on his feed, shaking. The horse was nowhere to be found, but he turned around and ran as fast as he can.
The child was left behind, alone, distant from everyone and unwanted - even from her own mother. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Gunther trudged wearily toward the cave, his breathing labored from hours of plodding through the muddy banks of the Toffee Swamp. As he pulled his last booted foot from the muck and struck out on solid footing, he mumbled a prayer to whichever saint happened to be listening. Normally he had the time to be picky about prayer, but today was not one of those days.
Hesitantly, Sir Gunther took a few steps forward and leaned against the wall of the cave, drawing in slow, deep breaths in an attempt to quiet his pounding heart. The moisture-slick stone felt oddly warm against the palms of his hands. He sniffed the air. The entryway smelled of ash and reptile droppings. He was in the right place.
After collecting himself, Sir Gunther stepped away from the wall and watched the granite cavern pulse in and out in a steady breathing motion. He wondered for a moment if he was mistaken and had somehow ended up inside the belly of the creature that he sought. He mused over the thought, and soon decided that it was most likely true.
"Hello?" he shouted at the cave walls. "Hello? Can you hear me in here?" He took a moment to adjust his helmet, which all of a sudden felt much smaller than it had before. "I seek Sparky the Dragon!"
"Who goes there??" a great, booming voice replied.
"It is I, Sir Gunther of Rathskeller!" After a moment's pause, the knight added: "The one whom, a moment earlier, you so voraciously consumed!"
A thunderous noise, like the pounding of a titanic drum, echoed through the great chamber, coming steadily closer with each beat. Sir Gunther braced himself for the worst - surely the dragon was about to send him hurtling through its digestive system.
And then, as he peered into the inky depths of the cave, he saw it. A massive, scaly foot, easily the size of a full-grown man, came to rest upon the cave floor with a force that sent shockwaves across the bare rock.
"I dined on no knight this day," the voice rumbled. "Besides, I went vegetarian four or five decades ago. All that fiber works wonders in my old age."
A second foot thrust itself out of the darkness ahead of the first, coming to rest on the stony ground with a great thud. It was then that Sir Gunther realized that he was not in the dragon's stomach, but was, in fact, simply in a cave *with* the beast. The thought was of only mild comfort to him.
"I... I have journeyed long and far from Rathskeller to visit you, O Great Sparky!" the knight stammered. "Across the vast golden fields of Elysium! Through the dense, jagged Forest of Eternal Peril! Over the-"
"What in the blazes are you talking about, human?" The voice interrupted. "The town of Rathskeller is only two or three miles away."
Another footstep, and Sir Gunther could finally see the head of the beast. Its bright pink, undulating skin wrapped itself around three mouths, all of which spoke in unison.
"And another thing," the dragon continued, "Do *not* insult me with this 'Sparky' nonsense! My name is Sparcinious the Burning Ember, Scourge of Guttenberg, Ruiner of Empires! Get it right, human!"
"Um, I apologize, O Great Sparcinius the... uh..." Sir Gunther blinked again, and suddenly the dragon's head was pale white and studded with hundreds of tiny, crimson eyes that blinked with every syllable that he spoke. "...what was the rest of that again?"
The dragon let out a deep, ragged sigh from its three mouths, and in barely the blink of an eye, they coalesced into a single, gaping maw. "Nevermind. What brings you here, human?" As the dragon spoke, its great black tongue began to worm its way out of its mouth. "Do you wish to do battle? Slay me? Bring my head home as a trophy for some human female?"
"I, well, I was wondering," Sir Gunther continued, casually leaning against the cave wall. "Can I maybe, please, have one of your scales, O Terrible Spar..." He paused, his eyes growing wide as he watched the beast's tongue extend several feet below its chin and swing to and fro like a fleshy pendulum. "...er, whatever the rest of that was?"
The dragon's million eyes widened. Sir Gunther watched as they crawled like beetles toward the center of the creature's forehead, where they collected like water droplets into one Cyclopean eyelid.
"Ah!" the dragon gasped. "Ingested the Crimson Death mushroom, did we?"
"Yes, O Great... One," Sir Gunther said, hoping that the generic declaration of respect would suffice.
The dragon uttered a sharp guffaw. "You aren't the brightest flower in the field, are you, human?" As he spoke, Sir Gunther watched his tongue snake back into his mouth. Now the creature's reptilian scowl was impossibly wide, and when it spoke, it emitted puffs of rainbow-hued smoke from its nostrils. "Tell me. How long ago did you consume the fungus?"
"This past evening," Sir Gunther replied in the midst of struggling not to look at his own hands, which had elongated into furry, bat-like claws.
"In that case, the hallucinations have long since begun," Sparcinius said. "Death will come within a day's time." The dragon raised its gigantic right claw and, with a sound like the snapping of a thick tree branch, pried a canary yellow scale from its forehead. "Take this," he said, tossing the scale to rest at Sir Gunther's feet, where it landed with a thump. "Brew it for five minutes in boiling water and drink the resulting potion. The effects should wear off within an hour's time."
Sir Gunther bent down and picked up the scale in between two bat-talons. Curiously, it was much smaller than he expected - about the size of a rose petal.
"Go, now," the dragon sneered, "and leave me in peace. I have a lovely dinner salad to prepare."
Sir Gunther began to step back toward the cave entrance, his dilated pupils never leaving the monster before him. "Thank you, O Great Sparky!" he bellowed, before promptly turning tail and scurrying away as fast as his heavy leather-and-mail armor would allow.
"Sparcinius," the dragon mumbled grimly. As he spoke, a jet of flame shot forth from his nostrils, momentarily revealing his emerald-scaled body, no bigger than that of a large dog. "And what was that bumbling coward so afraid of, anyway?"
-------
Meanwhile, after having traversed the Cloud Mountains, ran the Rainbow Racetrack, and swim-walked the Seven Fathoms of Aphelion, Sir Gunther arrived back at his mansion in Rathskellar only to find that it had transformed into a three-story caramel flan in his absence. He spent a good twenty minutes attempting to eat his way through to the interior when, purely by happy chance, he stumbled upon the front door.
"Gunther! Thank God! Where have you been?" Princess Hilda screamed as he entered the door. "I've been worried sick about you!"
Gunther braced himself against the door frame. The entire world undulated around him, as though he were in the midst of a slow-motion earthquake. Furthermore, the Princess Hilda standing before him now possessed a few extra arms and also the face of a tarantula.
"Brew this for five minutes in boiling water," he said in between staccato breaths, tossing the scale in Hilda-Spider's general direction. "And make sure there's no poison mushrooms in it, please."
"For the thousandth time, I'm sorry!" Hilda said as she bent down to pick up the shiny, chartreuse-hued object. "It looked exactly like a porcini and I thought it would be perfect for my famous risotto."
"Just hurry, please," said an exasperated and suddenly very pale Sir Gunther.
Hilda shot her husband an icy glare and dashed over to the stove, scale in hand. With a grunt, she hoisted a kettle of steaming water off of the fireplace and decanted it in to a floral-patterned teapot on the counter. After replacing the kettle on its perch, she unceremoniously plopped the scale into the pot.
"You know," she said, resting a delicate hand on her hip and smiling a lovely arachnid smile at her knight, "it's rather difficult being a princess most of the time. There's matters of state to look after, protocol and etiquette to obey, and on top of all that, I need to take care of you, too."
"Right. So difficult," Sir Gunther replied through gritted teeth. "So very difficult indeed." | "I was pulled from the local brothel by my fragile yet fateful squire Elrish. I'm sure he sounded something like this while attempting to pull me away from the heaven I found myself in."
"Pppp...pardon me, great lord Martin. Slayer of Evil, Lover of Women, and Bringer of Joy"
Elrish stumbled forward sluggishly to place his hand on the back of Martins right shoulder only to miss by a foot and fall flat on his face.
"I didn't say soooch (belch) such a think as...um..as that."
"Good god man, Get a hold of yourself and stop hogging all the rum."
Martin snatches the rum from Elrish and takes three long gulps then continues his tale.
"As I was saying. I was forcefully removed from this pleasure, the pleasure of helping a poor lass down on her luck of course, by kings order. The king then told me to quest here and well, kill you. You see we became something of a legend and were called upon to slay any monsters or creatures that may harm the people of this kingdom. And this legend all started in a small village far to the west. Me and sweet, fragile Elrish here.."
"Not fragile" Elrish belched out.
"Says the man flat on his back. Now as I was saying me and sweet, dumb, fragile, child-like Elrish here (Elrish's hands reach from the ground toward the bottle only to have it ripped away by Martin who takes yet another swig) were taking a nice stroll through the beautiful country side."
"We were fleeing" Elrish said as he slumped himself over a dark, slimy rock.
"Perhaps we were fleeing who can remember? All I recall is the stunning scenery and the grace of the steeds we rode at full speed."
"Stolen steeds."
"Well yes, stolen from an evil man hell bent on over pricing his horses." Martin now becoming sluggish himself.
"Twas an old man, Pleasant in fact."
"Well if denying a man in need of a horse is pleasa-"
"You fucked his daughter after he graciously invited us to stay the night."
"She was very good to us, fed us well and made our beds. Was I to deny her when she entered my chambers?"
A booming voice crackled and echoed towards them. "ON WITH YOUR FOOLISH TALE!!!!"
Martin, looking fearful, clears his throat. "Right, so before we reached this small town we see what appears to be a body lying on a hill in the distance. So naturally, being the good upstanding gentlemen that we are, we go to see if we can help. Only this was no human body it was a dire wolf and a big one at that. With the knowledge of the gold we would receive from the fur of a dire wolf we have a few drinks in celebration."
"A bottle." Elrish whispers
"Being as we were a little drunk mind you, we seemed to not be able to skin this beast in a proper manner. In fact we quite butchered the thing and decided to sleep off the liquors' hold on us. Then we awoke to see a crowd of people standing around us. We thought perhaps we'd been caught but it turns out they were commoners of the local town we sought. And this dire wolf was a tormentor of theirs for years. They paraded us into town like kings and praised us. Some even cried at our feet. It was all quite fetching if I may say so myself."
"Aye, they gave us plenty of food, women, and mead." Elrish spat this out now standing on his feet next to Martin.
"This praise went on for days and the story of our heroism glided throughout the kingdom only getting more and more embellished as it worked its way to the kings ear. And when it finally reached his ear we were plucked from that glorious town and thrown before the king where I was knighted and Elrish was named my squire."
"Twas bullshit that. I should have been the Knighted one."
"Well you shouldn't have drank so much to the point of passing out. The people had many questions. What was I to do?"
Elrish rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle out of Martins hand to take a swig.
Martin smirks and proceeded to say "The king then told us we are to slay any monsters or creatures that bring fear and death to his people and so with no real choice we set off to do just that. And to our luck we found that people are afraid of just about anything. Each story was as foolish as the last. There was the Ghost of the Hollow Woods which only appeared at full moon. It was only a white sheet high in a tree that caught the light of the moon. Then there was the Massive Tunnel Snake that would drag you under if given the chance. Turns out that was just a fat wood chuck, Elrish now keeps him as a pet."
"I call him Chuck Elrish the 3rd. Cute little bugger he is. Turns out hes a bourbon man." Elrish leans in with a hand to his cheek as if to whisper. "Keeps him from biting it does. Oh (hiccup) and don't forget about the Shrieking Banshee of Western Swallow. Now that was just an old toad. I think I still got a bit of him on me boot." Elrish struggles to lift his left boot then gives up. "well its down there somewhere." (hiccup).
Martin then steps forward to once again take control of the story.
"So you see that's what brought us to were we stand today, to kill...(Martin, quivering, takes another drink from the bottle of rum) a dragon."
A massive black scaly face with fangs the length of a mans arm and eyes as gold as the kings crown slowly inches into the moonlight that seeps into the entrance of the cave. All they can hear is the faint sound of water dripping from above and echoing deep as they await their death.
"MUHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA" The dragon laughs hysterically and slams his menacing paw to the ground over and over. The wind of his laughter blows back Martin and Elrishs hair while the slamming of his paw knocks them to the ground. The dragon looks back at them with a frightening grin and says with his booming voice " I am Morgune, It is a pleasure to meet you boys."
Martin and Elrish slowly stand and dust themselves off still shaking with fear. "Yes, well yes it's also quite the pleasure to meet you."
Elrish forces a quivering smile "Aye, it sure is."
Morgune leans in close and asked softly. "Now what reward do you receive by killing me?"
Martin takes a submissive step back. "Well we are to be paid in a mountain of gold and I am to wed the princess. Her beauty knows no bounds as does her cruelty. Some would say she is fair and just, but any man with sense would say shes...well a bit of..."
Elrish interrupts. "She's a cunt." (belch)
Morgune Ponders for a time and offers a sinister counter offer. "How would you two like all the kings gold and Martin how would you like to be free of this princess?"
Both men spit out the rum they were sharing and say at the same time. "Well sir I'd love nothing more" (Martin)
"Well shit I'd love nothing more"(Elrish)
"Then rulers and conquerors you shall be. Free from the shrill princess and rich beyond your dreams. I love nothing more then a good tale and yours, though good, is only just beginning."
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "So... so you just came after her?"
Despite Sir Elric's many protestations and declarations, Firemouth wouldn't get off the couch.
"Cease your bargaining, evil wyrm! Thy reign of terror is no more!"
Despite Firemouth's refusal to take him seriously, Elric kept up the show.
"Save me, Elric! Save your princess!"
Lady Bella rattled the bars of her cage as she cried out.
"Yes, I shall save my fair lady! Prepare to taste my steel, foul beast!"
Firemouth pressed a crooked talon to his left nostril and shot a quick flame into the bowl of the pipe sitting in his lap with effortless precision. He drew deeply and said, "I mean... fine, whatever, take her."
"Thy days of- wait, what?"
Firemouth exhaled an enormous cloud of purple smoke. "Yeah, go ahead. I didn't kidnap her, she's all yours."
"What are you... I mean, your tricks won't confuse me, dragon!" Elric was determined. "My mind is clear, and my will is iron! I shall strike you down this day!"
"Oh god, you're so fucking hot baby. Save me!"
"How long has she been stringing you along like this, dude?" The last tendrils of smoke drifted up past Firemouth's red eyes. His scaly eyelids blinked slowly.
"My lady is... my lady is the fairest of the land, and as such, detestable snakes like yourself steal her often! It is her beauty that-"
"The fuck would I want with a human woman, bro?"
"What?"
"I'm a dragon, man. She's a human. Why would I want to steal her?"
"She, she is the fairest in all the-"
"Dude, I'm a *dragon*. Even if I did find a member of another species attractive, what am I gonna do with her? Stare at her? I'm ten times your guys' size, if I did anything else I'd *break her in half*."
"Don't listen to him, baby! Slay this motherfucker!"
Elric's sword dropped a bit, but he raised it again. "Then... then you want her for her ransom!"
"I live in a cave, dude! Besides, dragons have their own currency. Your gold pieces are too small for me to even pick up."
"Yes, but it is well known that you and your lizardkin love gold! The feel, the smell, the-"
"Oh god, the fucking Smaug thing?" Firemouth rolled his eyes and took another drag of his pipe. "That was ONE FUCKING GUY with a gold fetish."
"A... gold fetish? I-"
"Shit's just ignorant, bro. Offensive, too."
Elric lowered his shield and sword. "Oh, my god, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"He's getting in your head, baby! He's gonna like... eat me or some shit! Get this fucking asshole!" She rattled her cage's bars again.
Firemouth exhaled and turned to her. "Will you knock it off with the fucking cage?"
Elric raised his sword and shield once more. "Ah ha! If you didn't take her here, then why is she in a cage?"
"I don't know, it's not mine. She brought the cage up here herself."
Lady Bella opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
"She... Bella, is this true?"
"Well... I mean, it's... I mean it's not like this is **my** cage, but-"
"Oh my god, Bella. What the fuck?" Elric dropped his sword and shield to the ground and began to pace.
"Ha. Hahahaha," Firemouth's laugh echoed off the enormous cave's walls as he lit up another drag of his pipe. "Yeah Bella, what the fuck?"
Elric put his hands on his hips. "Have *any* of these been real, then?"
Bella bit her lip and looked away.
"Oh what the FUCK, BELLA?!" Now Elric's voice echoed.
"Haaaaa! Hahahaha," Firemouth exhaled more purple smoke as he laughed. "I'm sorry, this isn't funny. This is pretty fucked up, actually. I'm so sorry, dude."
Bella kicked the cage door out and stormed up to Elric, pointing her finger in his face. "Don't you fucking curse at me, you fucking pussy!"
"Holy fucking shit, Bella! How many dragons have I killed for you?!"
"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it! You rode out here as fast as you could!"
"Oh shit, so this... this has been, like... happening for like... a while, hasn't it?" Firemouth's eyes had turned blood red.
Bella turned to Firemouth. "Shut the fuck up, you fucking pothead! You're ruining it!"
"Don't turn this around on him!" Elric grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "You've been getting yourself kidnapped for years!"
Bella pushed Elric away. "Yeah, well..." she stopped as her face started to seize up.
"What... what's going on? Is she like... ok, man?" Firemouth was barely hanging onto consciousness.
"Are you... are you trying to cry? Are you actually trying to cry right now?" Elric's eyes widened in amazement. "WOW, Bella. WOW."
Her face immediately turned to scorn. "Fuck you, you fucking asshole. Why don't you go suck your wizard friend's dick some more?"
"Really? You're going to bring Merlin, the *ancient wizard who came back from the dead to tell me I'm the hero chosen to reunite the provinces*?"
"Yeah, you've got time for him, but never for me!"
"That's because he's helping me *avoid the fucking orc apocalypse!*"
"Fuck you!" Bella spit at Elric.
"I'm done. I'm out of here. Go fuck yourself, Bella," Elric picked up his sword and shield, and walked towards the mouth of the cave.
Bella followed, screaming at him. "Don't you think we're fucking done here, you son of a bitch!"
"Don't fucking follow me! Get your own needy ass home! And don't think..." Elric's voice faded out as they left the cave.
Firemouth took another drag of his pipe and exhaled. "Oh fuck- Hey! You guys want your cage, or like...?" | “Gods curse me. Clearly the Gods hate me,” a man moaned pitifully, ready and willing to be the subject of serious coddling. His tone revealed the bravo of a kid with the manliness of a slug.
Although a sword hung at the man’s hip, it remained firmly in it’s sheath, unused and forgotten. The pristine hilt gave away its lack of experience in battle. A shiny gem encrusted the very tip of the hilt.
“The Princess of Storms. SHE’S CALLED THE PRINCESS OF STORMS,” came a frustrated bellow, far different from the whiny voice with its rising inflections. With a small breathy sigh he ducked a long stream of lightning and covered the tiny fleshy thing that was clinging to his forearm to protect him from the onslaught.
“I thought it was just a clever title! I’m Balion the Fierce! It’s just what royalty DOES!” the prince fired back, haughty and idiotic.
“How dare you!” came a female voice, furious at the pair currently cowering before her. “I take a small nap and wake up to your ugly face trying to-to-“
“Kiss you,” Balion added helpfully. Another stream of electric wind aimed at his face was her reply. Again he was protected by a great leathery appendage.
“And you! You’re MY dragon!” the girl raged, aiming another spell at the pair, which reflected harmlessly off his wings. Her hair stood out, frazzled and thick, her powers causing herself a very bad hair day.
“Yes, but I’m tired of watching you crisp every prince who comes to court you. Just pick one so we can leave this stupid tower. This one looks good. Look at his little sword,” the dragon enticed, picking up Balion effortlessly in a large claw to inspect the tiny sword more closely. A single claw reached out to bop the handle. “Look at it! Shiny too.”
“I don’t like him! … He has a big nose,” she said, the air flickering around her to ensure everyone remembered who was in charge. Balion covered his offended nose with a free hand.
“I hate royalty. Look, Balion, was it? Your kingdom has a nice remote tower somewhere, right?”
“Of course. Any royalty of clout has a tower. Where would we put…” he gave a nervous glance at the princess, “uh, you know…”
“Great. You need a dragon to guard it?”
“Oh sure, Father’s been looking for a dragon for ages, ever since our neighboring kingdom got one. That’s all you hear all day, the Vicloi family got a dragon. A fire breathing one! They think they’re so great, but I hear the dragon accidently burned down half the village-“
“Shut up. Let’s go,” the dragon interrupted, his great wings expanding to prepare for escape.
“What?!” the Princess of Storms exclaimed in shock at the sudden change of events. Sure, the dragon occasionally tried to save the odd suitor or two, but he’d never indicated that he would ditch her!
“I like the cut of his jib.”
“You owe me a life debt,” she reminded.
“Eh, those are overrated. Come along Balion the Fancy,” the dragon was airborne in moments, the prince taken along for the ride, ready and willing or not.
“It’s Fierce!” came a girly scream as they disappeared into the distance.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | The beast was pregnant.
*Balls*, thought Sir Dragonsbane to himself as he crested the hill. The village messenger had conveniently forgotten that little detail. Dragon slayers weren’t exactly a dime a dozen, but even the most foolish ones knew better than to attack a broodmother with child. The fool knew that, and brought him and his entire force anyway. They were far enough away from the village that she hadn’t noticed them yet, but she could close the distance in seconds if she so chose. She was a fine beast, as far as they went; her scales were a healthy pinkish-orange, with a white belly distended with the girth of her spawn, and greenish-tinged claws that would fetch a pretty coin if he were so inclined.
“Sir?” his second-in-command asked weakly, bringing him back from his reverie. The caged look in her eyes told him she knew very well what their only option would be. Her last commander had been one of the foolish ones.
Dragonsbane sighed. “Retreat,” he said wearily, turning his horse. The village messenger at his side started in shock.
“You can’t leave us here!”, he yelled shrilly. “She’ll destroy us all!”
Dragonsbane stopped, staring down his nose at the man. “If a broodmother has chosen to make her nest in the dead center of your village, you will have to evacuate and flee now with whatever survivors you can find. There is nothing we can do.”
A shout from his brigade drew his attention back to the village. She was aloft and headed their way.
“She’s spotted us now, you great buffoon,” he spat towards the villager. “Take it down an octave or three next time and she might not hear - though there will probably not be a next time, now.”
The man squawked and took off running for the forest. Dragonsbane turned his attention to the more immediate problem. “Leave him, he’s either dead or alive no matter our efforts now,” he shouted. “Defensive formation!”
His hand-picked squad fell into form faster than he could have hoped, filling his chest with pride. He had picked each person with care, based on their bravery, quickness, and prowess. Among them were no knights, but they were stoic to the last. “*Well, if I have to die now, I’ll go out among good folk*,” he thought.
The dragon behaviorist at his side had been a pricey hire, but had proven himself worth his weight in gold several times over. He said in low tones, “Even if we get away she won’t rest until we’re fifty miles away or more. Our chances are next to nothing.”
“Yes,” he replied staunchly. “Let’s give her hell first,” nocking a bolt in his crossbow as he spoke.
A loud, booming roar from behind them startled them all.
“Incoming from the north!” shouted his scout. Even she had been taken off guard.
Dragonsbane whirled to see the largest bull dragon he had ever seen, black as obsidian and with a wingspan that easily covered his small company in its shadow, headed towards them with murder in his eyes and blood on his claws.
He made a quick calculation. Male dragons only flamed rarely, and usually in turf wars, so the fire was not the most immediate threat; it was the claws.
“Everyone, down!” he shouted as loudly as he could.
To a man, they lept off their horses and fell flat to the ground, partially hidden by the long grass. The dragon swooped overhead, blackening the sky for a second. A horse screamed as its sides were pierced by the long claws of the bull. A sickening thud a few seconds later told him that the horse had landed. He hoped that it was dead.
The behaviorist tapped his shoulder. “Sir, the bull has landed and has his head resting on the ground, towards us. He looks like he’s expecting something.” He broke into a grin. “Sir, I think he wants to talk.”
*Talk?* He thought incredulously. Only a few accounts of human-dragon communication had ever been recorded, and those were spotty accounts at best. He had his doubts, but was out of options. He nodded curtly to the behaviorist. “Do what you must,” he said gruffly, masking his unease.
The behaviorist rose unceremoniously and began walking- no, hobbling- towards the bull dragon, who had indeed lay down and was examining the man with one eye as he walked towards him. Behind them, the broodmother screamed angrily, not daring to cross the bull to get to the humans. The man had never hobbled before, but maybe he was buying into the hogwash that dragons only attacked healthy humans. Dragonsbane waited with bated breath. It was out of his hands now. He hated that.
Having reached the bull, the behaviorist - what was his name? Tim? - reached out his hand. The bull nosed it gently. Had he still been seated on a horse, Dragonsbane would have fallen out of his saddle in shock. The bull began making low rumbling noises in its throat, sounding almost like a very, very large cat. A *happy* cat.
Just as soon as it started, the moment was over. The bull whirled towards the female, the low rumble continuing as he loped over to her. She ignored him at first, eating the horse carcass huffily. She eventually allowed him to briefly touch her nose with his, then alighted into the sky and soared north again. Dragonsbane sneezed. He was sure he had felt someone *thank* him. Not to mention, since when had dragons had feelings, and emotions? Yet he was sure that they had been communicating with each other.
He stood, with more questions than his mind could handle. He chose to handle none of them. The behaviorist was glowing like a boy after his first shave, with no trace of a hobble now. He was practically skipping. They stood next to each other for a moment, watching them fly off.
Tim spoke. “It was a misunderstanding, I guess,” he said incredulously. “She wanted veal and he brought her lamb, so she left in a huff, prepared to make her own nest.”
Dragonsbane was too shocked to speak.
Tim chuckled. “He’ll be a fantastic father, I suppose. His lady is lucky to have him. He wouldn’t refer to her as anything but his princess.”
| “Gods curse me. Clearly the Gods hate me,” a man moaned pitifully, ready and willing to be the subject of serious coddling. His tone revealed the bravo of a kid with the manliness of a slug.
Although a sword hung at the man’s hip, it remained firmly in it’s sheath, unused and forgotten. The pristine hilt gave away its lack of experience in battle. A shiny gem encrusted the very tip of the hilt.
“The Princess of Storms. SHE’S CALLED THE PRINCESS OF STORMS,” came a frustrated bellow, far different from the whiny voice with its rising inflections. With a small breathy sigh he ducked a long stream of lightning and covered the tiny fleshy thing that was clinging to his forearm to protect him from the onslaught.
“I thought it was just a clever title! I’m Balion the Fierce! It’s just what royalty DOES!” the prince fired back, haughty and idiotic.
“How dare you!” came a female voice, furious at the pair currently cowering before her. “I take a small nap and wake up to your ugly face trying to-to-“
“Kiss you,” Balion added helpfully. Another stream of electric wind aimed at his face was her reply. Again he was protected by a great leathery appendage.
“And you! You’re MY dragon!” the girl raged, aiming another spell at the pair, which reflected harmlessly off his wings. Her hair stood out, frazzled and thick, her powers causing herself a very bad hair day.
“Yes, but I’m tired of watching you crisp every prince who comes to court you. Just pick one so we can leave this stupid tower. This one looks good. Look at his little sword,” the dragon enticed, picking up Balion effortlessly in a large claw to inspect the tiny sword more closely. A single claw reached out to bop the handle. “Look at it! Shiny too.”
“I don’t like him! … He has a big nose,” she said, the air flickering around her to ensure everyone remembered who was in charge. Balion covered his offended nose with a free hand.
“I hate royalty. Look, Balion, was it? Your kingdom has a nice remote tower somewhere, right?”
“Of course. Any royalty of clout has a tower. Where would we put…” he gave a nervous glance at the princess, “uh, you know…”
“Great. You need a dragon to guard it?”
“Oh sure, Father’s been looking for a dragon for ages, ever since our neighboring kingdom got one. That’s all you hear all day, the Vicloi family got a dragon. A fire breathing one! They think they’re so great, but I hear the dragon accidently burned down half the village-“
“Shut up. Let’s go,” the dragon interrupted, his great wings expanding to prepare for escape.
“What?!” the Princess of Storms exclaimed in shock at the sudden change of events. Sure, the dragon occasionally tried to save the odd suitor or two, but he’d never indicated that he would ditch her!
“I like the cut of his jib.”
“You owe me a life debt,” she reminded.
“Eh, those are overrated. Come along Balion the Fancy,” the dragon was airborne in moments, the prince taken along for the ride, ready and willing or not.
“It’s Fierce!” came a girly scream as they disappeared into the distance.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "You Never talk to me anymore, all of our conversations are one way. I slave over a hot furnace all day to make you a warm meal everyday when you come home from work. That dragon doesn't cook itself you know! HELLO! Can you even hear what i'm saying to right know."
(silence)
"God Charles, you are unbelievable. I don' t even know why I try with you anymore."
This had been Charlie's life for the past 7 years. After 11 hours off hunting dragons and scouting mountains, all Charlie wanted to come home to was peace. A nice relaxing evening free from bitching and complaining from his wife about how hard it was to be home. They didn't have kids after all, she was not expected to pay for anything and most importantly, he never asked anything in return from her for his hard work.
Charlie had been contemplating leaving her for a while now but he didn't have the heart to abandon his wife as he knew no other man in the village would marry her based on what she put Charlie through on a daily basis. Unfortunately, to Charlie death would be the only escape from his miserable life.
The next morning, Charlie woke up promptly at 5 am just as he had everyday. He gather his armor and weaponry from the blacksmith and prepared himself for another long shift of knight duty. His wife ordered him to be home by 6 sharp or she would throw his dinner in the garbage. Threats like this were not unusual for Charlie, he nodded and walked out the door. He arrived at the castle and the king had informed the army that a dragon was spotted in Tranmere (The next town over from his village, Swindmore). The knights ordered to aid the neighboring army in slaying the dragon and returning with it's head to prepare soup for all the people in Swindmore. Charlie and the rest of the kings men put on their helmets and marched towards Tranmere.
They had been traveling for a few hours now when finally one of the knights spotted the dragon on top of the watchtower blowing fire down on the poor civilians below. Then men met up with the brave warriors of Tranmere who then disclosed their plan of attack. The plan was to wait until sunset when the dragon would have tired himself of the destruction and retreat back to his cave for the night. They were to attack at this very moment and ambush the dragon right outside of his home and slay him then. The men responded in unison with a overwhelming, "Yes Sir!"
"Excuse me." a nervous voice said among the hundreds of men who just agreed to the plan.
"Yes?" responded the General of Tranmere.
"My wife asked that I might be home by 6, is there anyway we could ambush the dragon earlier?" asked Charlie.
The armies laughed as they thought this was a joke but the general looked in Charlies eyes and say that this was a genuine question.
"I am sorry" respond Joseph "We must attack while the dragon is tired and unsuspecting or else we will all surely killed"
Charlie nodded in compliance trying to hide his disagreement. Charlie knew if he wasn't home by 6 his wife would surely kill him if the dragon had not. He thought his best bet was to attack the dragon himself and be killed quickly than rather than suffer the wrath of an angry spouse. That afternoon around 5, Charlie slipped away from his platoon and prepared to march himself into battle with the dragon in hopes of a painless death.
Charlie arrived at the burning watchtower where the dragon had been and unsheathed his sword. The dragon stopped his destruction as he noticed Charlie. At this point, Charlie had been trembling with fear, a small crowd had gathered at the bottom of the hill once they noticed a single soldier attempting to slay a giant beast.
Charlie finally spoke up, "Excuse me, Dragon? Would you mind making my death quick I wouldn't want to burden you with my screams for too long."
The dragon puffed out a cloud of thick some from his nostrils and opened his mouth preparing to devour Charlie in a single bite. As he bent over to consume the soldier he made eye contact with him. The dragon saw the look in charlies eyes, it was the same look the dragon had every night when he returned to his wife who was unhappy with the dragon for spending to much time terrorizing villages. Immediately, the dragon stopped. He and Charlie stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. By this point almost the entire town had gathered at the bottom of the hill watching Charlie and the dragon.
Charlie gazed at the dragon, he too had recognized their connection in home lives. The dragon relaxed his tail and allowed Charlie to climb onto his back. Charlie climbed aboard the stroked the dragon on its side.
"yip, yip!" said Charlie, and the dragon jumped into the air and began flying toward the sunset.
"wait" said Charlie "one stop before we leave forever." Charlie guided the dragon towards Swindmore and landed the dragon on the roof of his home. The dragon looked at Charlie and awaited further instruction. The knight looked back at the now tamed beast and nodded his head. The dragon raised his hind leg and shit right on the roof of the home. A shit so massive it collapsed the house in a matter of seconds. Charlie's wife ran out, covered in feces and watched the dragon and Charlie fly away into the horizon.
Not much was said about the two after that. Charlie's wife had become a beggar who spent her days digging through garbage looking for any scrap of food she could find. Both villages had peace for years to come and no one worried about where the dragon would attack next. As for Charlie and the dragon, they spent their days traveling the world and shitting on all the people who deserved it.
tl;dr: Man and dragon live in abusive relationships and team up to shit on all abusive people in the world. | “Gods curse me. Clearly the Gods hate me,” a man moaned pitifully, ready and willing to be the subject of serious coddling. His tone revealed the bravo of a kid with the manliness of a slug.
Although a sword hung at the man’s hip, it remained firmly in it’s sheath, unused and forgotten. The pristine hilt gave away its lack of experience in battle. A shiny gem encrusted the very tip of the hilt.
“The Princess of Storms. SHE’S CALLED THE PRINCESS OF STORMS,” came a frustrated bellow, far different from the whiny voice with its rising inflections. With a small breathy sigh he ducked a long stream of lightning and covered the tiny fleshy thing that was clinging to his forearm to protect him from the onslaught.
“I thought it was just a clever title! I’m Balion the Fierce! It’s just what royalty DOES!” the prince fired back, haughty and idiotic.
“How dare you!” came a female voice, furious at the pair currently cowering before her. “I take a small nap and wake up to your ugly face trying to-to-“
“Kiss you,” Balion added helpfully. Another stream of electric wind aimed at his face was her reply. Again he was protected by a great leathery appendage.
“And you! You’re MY dragon!” the girl raged, aiming another spell at the pair, which reflected harmlessly off his wings. Her hair stood out, frazzled and thick, her powers causing herself a very bad hair day.
“Yes, but I’m tired of watching you crisp every prince who comes to court you. Just pick one so we can leave this stupid tower. This one looks good. Look at his little sword,” the dragon enticed, picking up Balion effortlessly in a large claw to inspect the tiny sword more closely. A single claw reached out to bop the handle. “Look at it! Shiny too.”
“I don’t like him! … He has a big nose,” she said, the air flickering around her to ensure everyone remembered who was in charge. Balion covered his offended nose with a free hand.
“I hate royalty. Look, Balion, was it? Your kingdom has a nice remote tower somewhere, right?”
“Of course. Any royalty of clout has a tower. Where would we put…” he gave a nervous glance at the princess, “uh, you know…”
“Great. You need a dragon to guard it?”
“Oh sure, Father’s been looking for a dragon for ages, ever since our neighboring kingdom got one. That’s all you hear all day, the Vicloi family got a dragon. A fire breathing one! They think they’re so great, but I hear the dragon accidently burned down half the village-“
“Shut up. Let’s go,” the dragon interrupted, his great wings expanding to prepare for escape.
“What?!” the Princess of Storms exclaimed in shock at the sudden change of events. Sure, the dragon occasionally tried to save the odd suitor or two, but he’d never indicated that he would ditch her!
“I like the cut of his jib.”
“You owe me a life debt,” she reminded.
“Eh, those are overrated. Come along Balion the Fancy,” the dragon was airborne in moments, the prince taken along for the ride, ready and willing or not.
“It’s Fierce!” came a girly scream as they disappeared into the distance.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | There once was a princess' dragon
Since childhood, kept as a pet
Even in youth he was massively brute
And had stone scales that never stayed wet
|
Unbeknownst to the hundred-pound playmate
Was the princess' heart on her sleeve
Since the age of eighteen she'd been madly in love
With a daring young squire named Steve
|
Now this Steve was a little bit clueless
So he wasn't aware of her itch
All he saw when he looked at the princess' face
Was a ditz who was naive and rich
|
Having never worked more than a day in her years
And he, living out endless strife
By fates alone, wished that she was his own
As a trophy reward for a wife
|
Since the princess was pretty and Steve was quite vain
He'd settled on taking his chances
He hit her with ever dumb line in the book
In the place of authentic romances
|
Dragons, however, are smarter than smart
So her pet friend was wise to Steve's tricks
They're as patient a creature as can be, as well
So it waited—"Let's see if this sticks."
|
Five years had gone by, and she was still quite smitten
And Steve went from squire to knight
But he never got any more noble, therefore
The dragon saw this as a plight
|
"My poor friend the princess," the dragon called out
"What a sloppy, one-sided affair."
"This dude needs to go, so the princess will know
that it's me who will always be there."
|
If you're not yet made wise to a dragon's anatomy
I'll give you a simplified clue
In the time since their youth, dragon's weights? Through the roof!
Its once hundred pounds turned into two.
|
The dragon confronted Knight Steve in a field
And yelled "pick on someone your own size!"
So Steve drew out his sword, and then prayed to the lord
With both anger and fear in his eyes
|
He ran towards the dragon, and thrust forth his weapon
It hit, but then splintered to shards
"My scales are like rocks," the ticked dragon exclaimed
"Your demise may be found in your cards!"
|
Knight Steve drew his shield, quite expecting a flame
But never got shot by the beast
Said the pet: "It is *I* who have loved her the most
And for so long she's valued me least!"
|
So the dragon extended its thick, mighty claw
Cutting back through the air like a mace
Knight Steve, with no lance, then post-haste shit his pants
And the claws gently ripped off his face.
|
Flying far, the creature looked back to his girl
who mourned loud for the corpse of her beau
Then in sadness put walls up to not feel again
Leaving only this moral to know:
|
If you're pretty and dumb and your standards aren't high
You might find yourself lonely and blue,
For your knights could be dragons, and dragons white knights
With you helpless to sort out the two
| “Gods curse me. Clearly the Gods hate me,” a man moaned pitifully, ready and willing to be the subject of serious coddling. His tone revealed the bravo of a kid with the manliness of a slug.
Although a sword hung at the man’s hip, it remained firmly in it’s sheath, unused and forgotten. The pristine hilt gave away its lack of experience in battle. A shiny gem encrusted the very tip of the hilt.
“The Princess of Storms. SHE’S CALLED THE PRINCESS OF STORMS,” came a frustrated bellow, far different from the whiny voice with its rising inflections. With a small breathy sigh he ducked a long stream of lightning and covered the tiny fleshy thing that was clinging to his forearm to protect him from the onslaught.
“I thought it was just a clever title! I’m Balion the Fierce! It’s just what royalty DOES!” the prince fired back, haughty and idiotic.
“How dare you!” came a female voice, furious at the pair currently cowering before her. “I take a small nap and wake up to your ugly face trying to-to-“
“Kiss you,” Balion added helpfully. Another stream of electric wind aimed at his face was her reply. Again he was protected by a great leathery appendage.
“And you! You’re MY dragon!” the girl raged, aiming another spell at the pair, which reflected harmlessly off his wings. Her hair stood out, frazzled and thick, her powers causing herself a very bad hair day.
“Yes, but I’m tired of watching you crisp every prince who comes to court you. Just pick one so we can leave this stupid tower. This one looks good. Look at his little sword,” the dragon enticed, picking up Balion effortlessly in a large claw to inspect the tiny sword more closely. A single claw reached out to bop the handle. “Look at it! Shiny too.”
“I don’t like him! … He has a big nose,” she said, the air flickering around her to ensure everyone remembered who was in charge. Balion covered his offended nose with a free hand.
“I hate royalty. Look, Balion, was it? Your kingdom has a nice remote tower somewhere, right?”
“Of course. Any royalty of clout has a tower. Where would we put…” he gave a nervous glance at the princess, “uh, you know…”
“Great. You need a dragon to guard it?”
“Oh sure, Father’s been looking for a dragon for ages, ever since our neighboring kingdom got one. That’s all you hear all day, the Vicloi family got a dragon. A fire breathing one! They think they’re so great, but I hear the dragon accidently burned down half the village-“
“Shut up. Let’s go,” the dragon interrupted, his great wings expanding to prepare for escape.
“What?!” the Princess of Storms exclaimed in shock at the sudden change of events. Sure, the dragon occasionally tried to save the odd suitor or two, but he’d never indicated that he would ditch her!
“I like the cut of his jib.”
“You owe me a life debt,” she reminded.
“Eh, those are overrated. Come along Balion the Fancy,” the dragon was airborne in moments, the prince taken along for the ride, ready and willing or not.
“It’s Fierce!” came a girly scream as they disappeared into the distance.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "So... so you just came after her?"
Despite Sir Elric's many protestations and declarations, Firemouth wouldn't get off the couch.
"Cease your bargaining, evil wyrm! Thy reign of terror is no more!"
Despite Firemouth's refusal to take him seriously, Elric kept up the show.
"Save me, Elric! Save your princess!"
Lady Bella rattled the bars of her cage as she cried out.
"Yes, I shall save my fair lady! Prepare to taste my steel, foul beast!"
Firemouth pressed a crooked talon to his left nostril and shot a quick flame into the bowl of the pipe sitting in his lap with effortless precision. He drew deeply and said, "I mean... fine, whatever, take her."
"Thy days of- wait, what?"
Firemouth exhaled an enormous cloud of purple smoke. "Yeah, go ahead. I didn't kidnap her, she's all yours."
"What are you... I mean, your tricks won't confuse me, dragon!" Elric was determined. "My mind is clear, and my will is iron! I shall strike you down this day!"
"Oh god, you're so fucking hot baby. Save me!"
"How long has she been stringing you along like this, dude?" The last tendrils of smoke drifted up past Firemouth's red eyes. His scaly eyelids blinked slowly.
"My lady is... my lady is the fairest of the land, and as such, detestable snakes like yourself steal her often! It is her beauty that-"
"The fuck would I want with a human woman, bro?"
"What?"
"I'm a dragon, man. She's a human. Why would I want to steal her?"
"She, she is the fairest in all the-"
"Dude, I'm a *dragon*. Even if I did find a member of another species attractive, what am I gonna do with her? Stare at her? I'm ten times your guys' size, if I did anything else I'd *break her in half*."
"Don't listen to him, baby! Slay this motherfucker!"
Elric's sword dropped a bit, but he raised it again. "Then... then you want her for her ransom!"
"I live in a cave, dude! Besides, dragons have their own currency. Your gold pieces are too small for me to even pick up."
"Yes, but it is well known that you and your lizardkin love gold! The feel, the smell, the-"
"Oh god, the fucking Smaug thing?" Firemouth rolled his eyes and took another drag of his pipe. "That was ONE FUCKING GUY with a gold fetish."
"A... gold fetish? I-"
"Shit's just ignorant, bro. Offensive, too."
Elric lowered his shield and sword. "Oh, my god, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"He's getting in your head, baby! He's gonna like... eat me or some shit! Get this fucking asshole!" She rattled her cage's bars again.
Firemouth exhaled and turned to her. "Will you knock it off with the fucking cage?"
Elric raised his sword and shield once more. "Ah ha! If you didn't take her here, then why is she in a cage?"
"I don't know, it's not mine. She brought the cage up here herself."
Lady Bella opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
"She... Bella, is this true?"
"Well... I mean, it's... I mean it's not like this is **my** cage, but-"
"Oh my god, Bella. What the fuck?" Elric dropped his sword and shield to the ground and began to pace.
"Ha. Hahahaha," Firemouth's laugh echoed off the enormous cave's walls as he lit up another drag of his pipe. "Yeah Bella, what the fuck?"
Elric put his hands on his hips. "Have *any* of these been real, then?"
Bella bit her lip and looked away.
"Oh what the FUCK, BELLA?!" Now Elric's voice echoed.
"Haaaaa! Hahahaha," Firemouth exhaled more purple smoke as he laughed. "I'm sorry, this isn't funny. This is pretty fucked up, actually. I'm so sorry, dude."
Bella kicked the cage door out and stormed up to Elric, pointing her finger in his face. "Don't you fucking curse at me, you fucking pussy!"
"Holy fucking shit, Bella! How many dragons have I killed for you?!"
"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it! You rode out here as fast as you could!"
"Oh shit, so this... this has been, like... happening for like... a while, hasn't it?" Firemouth's eyes had turned blood red.
Bella turned to Firemouth. "Shut the fuck up, you fucking pothead! You're ruining it!"
"Don't turn this around on him!" Elric grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "You've been getting yourself kidnapped for years!"
Bella pushed Elric away. "Yeah, well..." she stopped as her face started to seize up.
"What... what's going on? Is she like... ok, man?" Firemouth was barely hanging onto consciousness.
"Are you... are you trying to cry? Are you actually trying to cry right now?" Elric's eyes widened in amazement. "WOW, Bella. WOW."
Her face immediately turned to scorn. "Fuck you, you fucking asshole. Why don't you go suck your wizard friend's dick some more?"
"Really? You're going to bring Merlin, the *ancient wizard who came back from the dead to tell me I'm the hero chosen to reunite the provinces*?"
"Yeah, you've got time for him, but never for me!"
"That's because he's helping me *avoid the fucking orc apocalypse!*"
"Fuck you!" Bella spit at Elric.
"I'm done. I'm out of here. Go fuck yourself, Bella," Elric picked up his sword and shield, and walked towards the mouth of the cave.
Bella followed, screaming at him. "Don't you think we're fucking done here, you son of a bitch!"
"Don't fucking follow me! Get your own needy ass home! And don't think..." Elric's voice faded out as they left the cave.
Firemouth took another drag of his pipe and exhaled. "Oh fuck- Hey! You guys want your cage, or like...?" | The castle loomed in the distance, and Trist could feel her heart constricting in anticipation. Arthur was so close. She had heard the whispers from the birds about the bruises and the cuts that he had been enduring, the torture games that Camille, the future wife, had created for the sake of filling her sadistic desires.
*It all started four years ago. Arthur was Trist's best friend, after her egg was given to him as a birthday present. She immediately bonded with him after she hatched, and together they learned to be a formidable force. At the tender age of 16, Arthur was invited to a ball being held by the kingdom; the king was in the market for selling his daughter off to the most impressive man. Pursuing honor and status, Arthur commissioned the most impressive, detailed armor from the esteemed blacksmith Carver. His father, a powerful, rich, and influential man, hired the flashiest and most ornate caravan to transport the aspiring groom to the event. Trist, being a massive Bloodstone beast, was forbidden from joining.*
*The duo met outside the town before his departure. It was a very emotional short eternity before they said their goodbyes, and a wistful prayer for good luck was sent.*
*The princess Camille was absolutely enamored by the finery and grace of the young knight, and they were betrothed mere months later. They were to be wed on her 18th birthday. However, talks of the lovely wedding turned into confusion as the knight seemed to become too ill to ever make public appearances. The population began to question if he would survive to the wedding. It was a tragic story that left much speculation for the kingdom to muse over.*
It was now the last week of Arthur's bachelor days, and Trist was unable to stand the thought of her dearest partner enduring the torture for the rest of his life. She landed on a hill a few miles away, finding some local wildlife to build some strength, and waited for nightfall.
The enticing lunar goddess was creeping too slowly towards the top of the world. Trist was anticipating on waiting for the moon to be directly above the castle before approaching the rescue mission, but became impatient, and jumped in the air with a burst of powerful leather wings.
Luckily, Trist was a very small being, the size of three horses. Bursting through the front doors were a trivial matter. The guards attempted bravery until she let out a beautiful stream of glowing blue flames, then scattered about, leaving her free to search for Arthur.
The king was all about open, massive rooms. Unfortunately, he did not feel the same about his hallways. It was no matter, however. Trist was strong, and the wooden supports were mere annoyances as she rampaged the fortress.
Deep into the castle, she heard the groans that could only be Arthur. The smell of blood and sweat confirmed her suspicions, and served as a burst of adrenaline to smash her way to the dark, gloomy room that might as well have been a dungeon.
The scene ahead of her was almost enough to make Trist sick, if she was a human. Arthur was tied into place on a bed with maroon sheets, and a half dressed Camille, darkness gleaming in her emerald eyes, was idly placing a hot poker on random parts of the naked knight's body. His figure was destroyed, covered in layers of scars from various instruments of Camille's entertainment. He was broken, eyes pale and distant as he tried his best to mentally escape her games.
The encounter was short and anticlimatic. Trist didn't allow the cruel Camille continued savagery, opting instead to lunge and take her body as a midnight snack.
The flight home was a long, arduous and fearful one. Arthur didn't even seem to recognize her. A shadow of a smile traced the bethrothed's face as he felt the cool air of freedom kiss his cheeks, and much needed rest overtook his exhausted body. She made sure to avoid any turbulence and stay as low to the ground as possible to not wear on the knight or his open wounds any more than naturally possible. Slow travel was prudent with her loose clasp of him, as she feared adding any more cuts.
A small group of close friends awaited them outside of the gates. A collective cry of anger and shock passed the group as Trist landed and gently placed Arthur on the ground. The moon was nearing her exit from the world as Arthur was rushed by horse carriage to the doctor to attempt to dress his wounds.
---
The physical wounds healed, but the destruction of the knight's soul and body was forever done. Trist was devastated as she knew that she had come too late. Everyone in the castle that hid him could see him slowly withering away, heard the screams at night of the relived memories.
She would take Arthur out for small adventures like they always did before, but they were comprised of blank stares at the lakes and him clinging to her as if he was afraid of disappearing forever if he loosened his grasp of her leg or neck. Speech slowly seemed to return to him, words then phrases. One day, Trist wished he had never been able to talk again.
"I can't do this, Trist. I can't sleep. Eating is a chore. Waking up is a chore. She is burned into my eyes. I am still there. I walk with you but I'm still in that hell, enduring scathing commentary during the day and scorching games at night. I'll never be your Arthur again."
She nuzzled him. *Don't say that. You're progressing every day.*
"Kill me. Please. I want to die."
A plume of instinctual smoke ejaculated from Trist's snout as she glared at him with amethyst orbs. *You do **not** mean that.*
"But I do. If you don't do it, I'll do it myself. I cannot keep going."
The sun made a long journey across their small forest as the stifling silence surrounded them. Suicide or homocide was the only choices she had, as he seemed determined to die. A fire had sparked in his eyes. As the light was beginning to fade, he stood, walked towards the river a few meters away, and drew his sword.
"Don't make me do this myself. I desire a chance at paradise." Tears began to streak down his carved face.
*Please, we can heal. You are strong.*
He raised his sword.
*ARTHUR.*
It found its target on his chest.
Trist leaped for the sword, willing to part him of his arm if that was what it took, but it was too late.
The town heard the roars of Trist, and the king issued a search party with their fastest horses. He knew where they were, and it wasn't far away.
When the group arrived to the clearing, the king dropped from his horse and attempted to recover, but only managed to bring himself to his knees. His beloved child, the only chance at advancing his family name, lay in the crimson pool of his life, next to the slumped body of the midnight dragon, her eyes vacant pools of sorrow. She had managed to relieve the body of the metallic method of suicide, but there was no way to repair his mangled heart.
The pyre that night was ignited by Trist herself. The sound of silence was crippling to the townsfolk as the smell of burnt flesh and the crackle of the fire licking away the mangled body chugged away. All was lost. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | The beast was pregnant.
*Balls*, thought Sir Dragonsbane to himself as he crested the hill. The village messenger had conveniently forgotten that little detail. Dragon slayers weren’t exactly a dime a dozen, but even the most foolish ones knew better than to attack a broodmother with child. The fool knew that, and brought him and his entire force anyway. They were far enough away from the village that she hadn’t noticed them yet, but she could close the distance in seconds if she so chose. She was a fine beast, as far as they went; her scales were a healthy pinkish-orange, with a white belly distended with the girth of her spawn, and greenish-tinged claws that would fetch a pretty coin if he were so inclined.
“Sir?” his second-in-command asked weakly, bringing him back from his reverie. The caged look in her eyes told him she knew very well what their only option would be. Her last commander had been one of the foolish ones.
Dragonsbane sighed. “Retreat,” he said wearily, turning his horse. The village messenger at his side started in shock.
“You can’t leave us here!”, he yelled shrilly. “She’ll destroy us all!”
Dragonsbane stopped, staring down his nose at the man. “If a broodmother has chosen to make her nest in the dead center of your village, you will have to evacuate and flee now with whatever survivors you can find. There is nothing we can do.”
A shout from his brigade drew his attention back to the village. She was aloft and headed their way.
“She’s spotted us now, you great buffoon,” he spat towards the villager. “Take it down an octave or three next time and she might not hear - though there will probably not be a next time, now.”
The man squawked and took off running for the forest. Dragonsbane turned his attention to the more immediate problem. “Leave him, he’s either dead or alive no matter our efforts now,” he shouted. “Defensive formation!”
His hand-picked squad fell into form faster than he could have hoped, filling his chest with pride. He had picked each person with care, based on their bravery, quickness, and prowess. Among them were no knights, but they were stoic to the last. “*Well, if I have to die now, I’ll go out among good folk*,” he thought.
The dragon behaviorist at his side had been a pricey hire, but had proven himself worth his weight in gold several times over. He said in low tones, “Even if we get away she won’t rest until we’re fifty miles away or more. Our chances are next to nothing.”
“Yes,” he replied staunchly. “Let’s give her hell first,” nocking a bolt in his crossbow as he spoke.
A loud, booming roar from behind them startled them all.
“Incoming from the north!” shouted his scout. Even she had been taken off guard.
Dragonsbane whirled to see the largest bull dragon he had ever seen, black as obsidian and with a wingspan that easily covered his small company in its shadow, headed towards them with murder in his eyes and blood on his claws.
He made a quick calculation. Male dragons only flamed rarely, and usually in turf wars, so the fire was not the most immediate threat; it was the claws.
“Everyone, down!” he shouted as loudly as he could.
To a man, they lept off their horses and fell flat to the ground, partially hidden by the long grass. The dragon swooped overhead, blackening the sky for a second. A horse screamed as its sides were pierced by the long claws of the bull. A sickening thud a few seconds later told him that the horse had landed. He hoped that it was dead.
The behaviorist tapped his shoulder. “Sir, the bull has landed and has his head resting on the ground, towards us. He looks like he’s expecting something.” He broke into a grin. “Sir, I think he wants to talk.”
*Talk?* He thought incredulously. Only a few accounts of human-dragon communication had ever been recorded, and those were spotty accounts at best. He had his doubts, but was out of options. He nodded curtly to the behaviorist. “Do what you must,” he said gruffly, masking his unease.
The behaviorist rose unceremoniously and began walking- no, hobbling- towards the bull dragon, who had indeed lay down and was examining the man with one eye as he walked towards him. Behind them, the broodmother screamed angrily, not daring to cross the bull to get to the humans. The man had never hobbled before, but maybe he was buying into the hogwash that dragons only attacked healthy humans. Dragonsbane waited with bated breath. It was out of his hands now. He hated that.
Having reached the bull, the behaviorist - what was his name? Tim? - reached out his hand. The bull nosed it gently. Had he still been seated on a horse, Dragonsbane would have fallen out of his saddle in shock. The bull began making low rumbling noises in its throat, sounding almost like a very, very large cat. A *happy* cat.
Just as soon as it started, the moment was over. The bull whirled towards the female, the low rumble continuing as he loped over to her. She ignored him at first, eating the horse carcass huffily. She eventually allowed him to briefly touch her nose with his, then alighted into the sky and soared north again. Dragonsbane sneezed. He was sure he had felt someone *thank* him. Not to mention, since when had dragons had feelings, and emotions? Yet he was sure that they had been communicating with each other.
He stood, with more questions than his mind could handle. He chose to handle none of them. The behaviorist was glowing like a boy after his first shave, with no trace of a hobble now. He was practically skipping. They stood next to each other for a moment, watching them fly off.
Tim spoke. “It was a misunderstanding, I guess,” he said incredulously. “She wanted veal and he brought her lamb, so she left in a huff, prepared to make her own nest.”
Dragonsbane was too shocked to speak.
Tim chuckled. “He’ll be a fantastic father, I suppose. His lady is lucky to have him. He wouldn’t refer to her as anything but his princess.”
| The castle loomed in the distance, and Trist could feel her heart constricting in anticipation. Arthur was so close. She had heard the whispers from the birds about the bruises and the cuts that he had been enduring, the torture games that Camille, the future wife, had created for the sake of filling her sadistic desires.
*It all started four years ago. Arthur was Trist's best friend, after her egg was given to him as a birthday present. She immediately bonded with him after she hatched, and together they learned to be a formidable force. At the tender age of 16, Arthur was invited to a ball being held by the kingdom; the king was in the market for selling his daughter off to the most impressive man. Pursuing honor and status, Arthur commissioned the most impressive, detailed armor from the esteemed blacksmith Carver. His father, a powerful, rich, and influential man, hired the flashiest and most ornate caravan to transport the aspiring groom to the event. Trist, being a massive Bloodstone beast, was forbidden from joining.*
*The duo met outside the town before his departure. It was a very emotional short eternity before they said their goodbyes, and a wistful prayer for good luck was sent.*
*The princess Camille was absolutely enamored by the finery and grace of the young knight, and they were betrothed mere months later. They were to be wed on her 18th birthday. However, talks of the lovely wedding turned into confusion as the knight seemed to become too ill to ever make public appearances. The population began to question if he would survive to the wedding. It was a tragic story that left much speculation for the kingdom to muse over.*
It was now the last week of Arthur's bachelor days, and Trist was unable to stand the thought of her dearest partner enduring the torture for the rest of his life. She landed on a hill a few miles away, finding some local wildlife to build some strength, and waited for nightfall.
The enticing lunar goddess was creeping too slowly towards the top of the world. Trist was anticipating on waiting for the moon to be directly above the castle before approaching the rescue mission, but became impatient, and jumped in the air with a burst of powerful leather wings.
Luckily, Trist was a very small being, the size of three horses. Bursting through the front doors were a trivial matter. The guards attempted bravery until she let out a beautiful stream of glowing blue flames, then scattered about, leaving her free to search for Arthur.
The king was all about open, massive rooms. Unfortunately, he did not feel the same about his hallways. It was no matter, however. Trist was strong, and the wooden supports were mere annoyances as she rampaged the fortress.
Deep into the castle, she heard the groans that could only be Arthur. The smell of blood and sweat confirmed her suspicions, and served as a burst of adrenaline to smash her way to the dark, gloomy room that might as well have been a dungeon.
The scene ahead of her was almost enough to make Trist sick, if she was a human. Arthur was tied into place on a bed with maroon sheets, and a half dressed Camille, darkness gleaming in her emerald eyes, was idly placing a hot poker on random parts of the naked knight's body. His figure was destroyed, covered in layers of scars from various instruments of Camille's entertainment. He was broken, eyes pale and distant as he tried his best to mentally escape her games.
The encounter was short and anticlimatic. Trist didn't allow the cruel Camille continued savagery, opting instead to lunge and take her body as a midnight snack.
The flight home was a long, arduous and fearful one. Arthur didn't even seem to recognize her. A shadow of a smile traced the bethrothed's face as he felt the cool air of freedom kiss his cheeks, and much needed rest overtook his exhausted body. She made sure to avoid any turbulence and stay as low to the ground as possible to not wear on the knight or his open wounds any more than naturally possible. Slow travel was prudent with her loose clasp of him, as she feared adding any more cuts.
A small group of close friends awaited them outside of the gates. A collective cry of anger and shock passed the group as Trist landed and gently placed Arthur on the ground. The moon was nearing her exit from the world as Arthur was rushed by horse carriage to the doctor to attempt to dress his wounds.
---
The physical wounds healed, but the destruction of the knight's soul and body was forever done. Trist was devastated as she knew that she had come too late. Everyone in the castle that hid him could see him slowly withering away, heard the screams at night of the relived memories.
She would take Arthur out for small adventures like they always did before, but they were comprised of blank stares at the lakes and him clinging to her as if he was afraid of disappearing forever if he loosened his grasp of her leg or neck. Speech slowly seemed to return to him, words then phrases. One day, Trist wished he had never been able to talk again.
"I can't do this, Trist. I can't sleep. Eating is a chore. Waking up is a chore. She is burned into my eyes. I am still there. I walk with you but I'm still in that hell, enduring scathing commentary during the day and scorching games at night. I'll never be your Arthur again."
She nuzzled him. *Don't say that. You're progressing every day.*
"Kill me. Please. I want to die."
A plume of instinctual smoke ejaculated from Trist's snout as she glared at him with amethyst orbs. *You do **not** mean that.*
"But I do. If you don't do it, I'll do it myself. I cannot keep going."
The sun made a long journey across their small forest as the stifling silence surrounded them. Suicide or homocide was the only choices she had, as he seemed determined to die. A fire had sparked in his eyes. As the light was beginning to fade, he stood, walked towards the river a few meters away, and drew his sword.
"Don't make me do this myself. I desire a chance at paradise." Tears began to streak down his carved face.
*Please, we can heal. You are strong.*
He raised his sword.
*ARTHUR.*
It found its target on his chest.
Trist leaped for the sword, willing to part him of his arm if that was what it took, but it was too late.
The town heard the roars of Trist, and the king issued a search party with their fastest horses. He knew where they were, and it wasn't far away.
When the group arrived to the clearing, the king dropped from his horse and attempted to recover, but only managed to bring himself to his knees. His beloved child, the only chance at advancing his family name, lay in the crimson pool of his life, next to the slumped body of the midnight dragon, her eyes vacant pools of sorrow. She had managed to relieve the body of the metallic method of suicide, but there was no way to repair his mangled heart.
The pyre that night was ignited by Trist herself. The sound of silence was crippling to the townsfolk as the smell of burnt flesh and the crackle of the fire licking away the mangled body chugged away. All was lost. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "You Never talk to me anymore, all of our conversations are one way. I slave over a hot furnace all day to make you a warm meal everyday when you come home from work. That dragon doesn't cook itself you know! HELLO! Can you even hear what i'm saying to right know."
(silence)
"God Charles, you are unbelievable. I don' t even know why I try with you anymore."
This had been Charlie's life for the past 7 years. After 11 hours off hunting dragons and scouting mountains, all Charlie wanted to come home to was peace. A nice relaxing evening free from bitching and complaining from his wife about how hard it was to be home. They didn't have kids after all, she was not expected to pay for anything and most importantly, he never asked anything in return from her for his hard work.
Charlie had been contemplating leaving her for a while now but he didn't have the heart to abandon his wife as he knew no other man in the village would marry her based on what she put Charlie through on a daily basis. Unfortunately, to Charlie death would be the only escape from his miserable life.
The next morning, Charlie woke up promptly at 5 am just as he had everyday. He gather his armor and weaponry from the blacksmith and prepared himself for another long shift of knight duty. His wife ordered him to be home by 6 sharp or she would throw his dinner in the garbage. Threats like this were not unusual for Charlie, he nodded and walked out the door. He arrived at the castle and the king had informed the army that a dragon was spotted in Tranmere (The next town over from his village, Swindmore). The knights ordered to aid the neighboring army in slaying the dragon and returning with it's head to prepare soup for all the people in Swindmore. Charlie and the rest of the kings men put on their helmets and marched towards Tranmere.
They had been traveling for a few hours now when finally one of the knights spotted the dragon on top of the watchtower blowing fire down on the poor civilians below. Then men met up with the brave warriors of Tranmere who then disclosed their plan of attack. The plan was to wait until sunset when the dragon would have tired himself of the destruction and retreat back to his cave for the night. They were to attack at this very moment and ambush the dragon right outside of his home and slay him then. The men responded in unison with a overwhelming, "Yes Sir!"
"Excuse me." a nervous voice said among the hundreds of men who just agreed to the plan.
"Yes?" responded the General of Tranmere.
"My wife asked that I might be home by 6, is there anyway we could ambush the dragon earlier?" asked Charlie.
The armies laughed as they thought this was a joke but the general looked in Charlies eyes and say that this was a genuine question.
"I am sorry" respond Joseph "We must attack while the dragon is tired and unsuspecting or else we will all surely killed"
Charlie nodded in compliance trying to hide his disagreement. Charlie knew if he wasn't home by 6 his wife would surely kill him if the dragon had not. He thought his best bet was to attack the dragon himself and be killed quickly than rather than suffer the wrath of an angry spouse. That afternoon around 5, Charlie slipped away from his platoon and prepared to march himself into battle with the dragon in hopes of a painless death.
Charlie arrived at the burning watchtower where the dragon had been and unsheathed his sword. The dragon stopped his destruction as he noticed Charlie. At this point, Charlie had been trembling with fear, a small crowd had gathered at the bottom of the hill once they noticed a single soldier attempting to slay a giant beast.
Charlie finally spoke up, "Excuse me, Dragon? Would you mind making my death quick I wouldn't want to burden you with my screams for too long."
The dragon puffed out a cloud of thick some from his nostrils and opened his mouth preparing to devour Charlie in a single bite. As he bent over to consume the soldier he made eye contact with him. The dragon saw the look in charlies eyes, it was the same look the dragon had every night when he returned to his wife who was unhappy with the dragon for spending to much time terrorizing villages. Immediately, the dragon stopped. He and Charlie stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. By this point almost the entire town had gathered at the bottom of the hill watching Charlie and the dragon.
Charlie gazed at the dragon, he too had recognized their connection in home lives. The dragon relaxed his tail and allowed Charlie to climb onto his back. Charlie climbed aboard the stroked the dragon on its side.
"yip, yip!" said Charlie, and the dragon jumped into the air and began flying toward the sunset.
"wait" said Charlie "one stop before we leave forever." Charlie guided the dragon towards Swindmore and landed the dragon on the roof of his home. The dragon looked at Charlie and awaited further instruction. The knight looked back at the now tamed beast and nodded his head. The dragon raised his hind leg and shit right on the roof of the home. A shit so massive it collapsed the house in a matter of seconds. Charlie's wife ran out, covered in feces and watched the dragon and Charlie fly away into the horizon.
Not much was said about the two after that. Charlie's wife had become a beggar who spent her days digging through garbage looking for any scrap of food she could find. Both villages had peace for years to come and no one worried about where the dragon would attack next. As for Charlie and the dragon, they spent their days traveling the world and shitting on all the people who deserved it.
tl;dr: Man and dragon live in abusive relationships and team up to shit on all abusive people in the world. | The castle loomed in the distance, and Trist could feel her heart constricting in anticipation. Arthur was so close. She had heard the whispers from the birds about the bruises and the cuts that he had been enduring, the torture games that Camille, the future wife, had created for the sake of filling her sadistic desires.
*It all started four years ago. Arthur was Trist's best friend, after her egg was given to him as a birthday present. She immediately bonded with him after she hatched, and together they learned to be a formidable force. At the tender age of 16, Arthur was invited to a ball being held by the kingdom; the king was in the market for selling his daughter off to the most impressive man. Pursuing honor and status, Arthur commissioned the most impressive, detailed armor from the esteemed blacksmith Carver. His father, a powerful, rich, and influential man, hired the flashiest and most ornate caravan to transport the aspiring groom to the event. Trist, being a massive Bloodstone beast, was forbidden from joining.*
*The duo met outside the town before his departure. It was a very emotional short eternity before they said their goodbyes, and a wistful prayer for good luck was sent.*
*The princess Camille was absolutely enamored by the finery and grace of the young knight, and they were betrothed mere months later. They were to be wed on her 18th birthday. However, talks of the lovely wedding turned into confusion as the knight seemed to become too ill to ever make public appearances. The population began to question if he would survive to the wedding. It was a tragic story that left much speculation for the kingdom to muse over.*
It was now the last week of Arthur's bachelor days, and Trist was unable to stand the thought of her dearest partner enduring the torture for the rest of his life. She landed on a hill a few miles away, finding some local wildlife to build some strength, and waited for nightfall.
The enticing lunar goddess was creeping too slowly towards the top of the world. Trist was anticipating on waiting for the moon to be directly above the castle before approaching the rescue mission, but became impatient, and jumped in the air with a burst of powerful leather wings.
Luckily, Trist was a very small being, the size of three horses. Bursting through the front doors were a trivial matter. The guards attempted bravery until she let out a beautiful stream of glowing blue flames, then scattered about, leaving her free to search for Arthur.
The king was all about open, massive rooms. Unfortunately, he did not feel the same about his hallways. It was no matter, however. Trist was strong, and the wooden supports were mere annoyances as she rampaged the fortress.
Deep into the castle, she heard the groans that could only be Arthur. The smell of blood and sweat confirmed her suspicions, and served as a burst of adrenaline to smash her way to the dark, gloomy room that might as well have been a dungeon.
The scene ahead of her was almost enough to make Trist sick, if she was a human. Arthur was tied into place on a bed with maroon sheets, and a half dressed Camille, darkness gleaming in her emerald eyes, was idly placing a hot poker on random parts of the naked knight's body. His figure was destroyed, covered in layers of scars from various instruments of Camille's entertainment. He was broken, eyes pale and distant as he tried his best to mentally escape her games.
The encounter was short and anticlimatic. Trist didn't allow the cruel Camille continued savagery, opting instead to lunge and take her body as a midnight snack.
The flight home was a long, arduous and fearful one. Arthur didn't even seem to recognize her. A shadow of a smile traced the bethrothed's face as he felt the cool air of freedom kiss his cheeks, and much needed rest overtook his exhausted body. She made sure to avoid any turbulence and stay as low to the ground as possible to not wear on the knight or his open wounds any more than naturally possible. Slow travel was prudent with her loose clasp of him, as she feared adding any more cuts.
A small group of close friends awaited them outside of the gates. A collective cry of anger and shock passed the group as Trist landed and gently placed Arthur on the ground. The moon was nearing her exit from the world as Arthur was rushed by horse carriage to the doctor to attempt to dress his wounds.
---
The physical wounds healed, but the destruction of the knight's soul and body was forever done. Trist was devastated as she knew that she had come too late. Everyone in the castle that hid him could see him slowly withering away, heard the screams at night of the relived memories.
She would take Arthur out for small adventures like they always did before, but they were comprised of blank stares at the lakes and him clinging to her as if he was afraid of disappearing forever if he loosened his grasp of her leg or neck. Speech slowly seemed to return to him, words then phrases. One day, Trist wished he had never been able to talk again.
"I can't do this, Trist. I can't sleep. Eating is a chore. Waking up is a chore. She is burned into my eyes. I am still there. I walk with you but I'm still in that hell, enduring scathing commentary during the day and scorching games at night. I'll never be your Arthur again."
She nuzzled him. *Don't say that. You're progressing every day.*
"Kill me. Please. I want to die."
A plume of instinctual smoke ejaculated from Trist's snout as she glared at him with amethyst orbs. *You do **not** mean that.*
"But I do. If you don't do it, I'll do it myself. I cannot keep going."
The sun made a long journey across their small forest as the stifling silence surrounded them. Suicide or homocide was the only choices she had, as he seemed determined to die. A fire had sparked in his eyes. As the light was beginning to fade, he stood, walked towards the river a few meters away, and drew his sword.
"Don't make me do this myself. I desire a chance at paradise." Tears began to streak down his carved face.
*Please, we can heal. You are strong.*
He raised his sword.
*ARTHUR.*
It found its target on his chest.
Trist leaped for the sword, willing to part him of his arm if that was what it took, but it was too late.
The town heard the roars of Trist, and the king issued a search party with their fastest horses. He knew where they were, and it wasn't far away.
When the group arrived to the clearing, the king dropped from his horse and attempted to recover, but only managed to bring himself to his knees. His beloved child, the only chance at advancing his family name, lay in the crimson pool of his life, next to the slumped body of the midnight dragon, her eyes vacant pools of sorrow. She had managed to relieve the body of the metallic method of suicide, but there was no way to repair his mangled heart.
The pyre that night was ignited by Trist herself. The sound of silence was crippling to the townsfolk as the smell of burnt flesh and the crackle of the fire licking away the mangled body chugged away. All was lost. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | There once was a princess' dragon
Since childhood, kept as a pet
Even in youth he was massively brute
And had stone scales that never stayed wet
|
Unbeknownst to the hundred-pound playmate
Was the princess' heart on her sleeve
Since the age of eighteen she'd been madly in love
With a daring young squire named Steve
|
Now this Steve was a little bit clueless
So he wasn't aware of her itch
All he saw when he looked at the princess' face
Was a ditz who was naive and rich
|
Having never worked more than a day in her years
And he, living out endless strife
By fates alone, wished that she was his own
As a trophy reward for a wife
|
Since the princess was pretty and Steve was quite vain
He'd settled on taking his chances
He hit her with ever dumb line in the book
In the place of authentic romances
|
Dragons, however, are smarter than smart
So her pet friend was wise to Steve's tricks
They're as patient a creature as can be, as well
So it waited—"Let's see if this sticks."
|
Five years had gone by, and she was still quite smitten
And Steve went from squire to knight
But he never got any more noble, therefore
The dragon saw this as a plight
|
"My poor friend the princess," the dragon called out
"What a sloppy, one-sided affair."
"This dude needs to go, so the princess will know
that it's me who will always be there."
|
If you're not yet made wise to a dragon's anatomy
I'll give you a simplified clue
In the time since their youth, dragon's weights? Through the roof!
Its once hundred pounds turned into two.
|
The dragon confronted Knight Steve in a field
And yelled "pick on someone your own size!"
So Steve drew out his sword, and then prayed to the lord
With both anger and fear in his eyes
|
He ran towards the dragon, and thrust forth his weapon
It hit, but then splintered to shards
"My scales are like rocks," the ticked dragon exclaimed
"Your demise may be found in your cards!"
|
Knight Steve drew his shield, quite expecting a flame
But never got shot by the beast
Said the pet: "It is *I* who have loved her the most
And for so long she's valued me least!"
|
So the dragon extended its thick, mighty claw
Cutting back through the air like a mace
Knight Steve, with no lance, then post-haste shit his pants
And the claws gently ripped off his face.
|
Flying far, the creature looked back to his girl
who mourned loud for the corpse of her beau
Then in sadness put walls up to not feel again
Leaving only this moral to know:
|
If you're pretty and dumb and your standards aren't high
You might find yourself lonely and blue,
For your knights could be dragons, and dragons white knights
With you helpless to sort out the two
| The castle loomed in the distance, and Trist could feel her heart constricting in anticipation. Arthur was so close. She had heard the whispers from the birds about the bruises and the cuts that he had been enduring, the torture games that Camille, the future wife, had created for the sake of filling her sadistic desires.
*It all started four years ago. Arthur was Trist's best friend, after her egg was given to him as a birthday present. She immediately bonded with him after she hatched, and together they learned to be a formidable force. At the tender age of 16, Arthur was invited to a ball being held by the kingdom; the king was in the market for selling his daughter off to the most impressive man. Pursuing honor and status, Arthur commissioned the most impressive, detailed armor from the esteemed blacksmith Carver. His father, a powerful, rich, and influential man, hired the flashiest and most ornate caravan to transport the aspiring groom to the event. Trist, being a massive Bloodstone beast, was forbidden from joining.*
*The duo met outside the town before his departure. It was a very emotional short eternity before they said their goodbyes, and a wistful prayer for good luck was sent.*
*The princess Camille was absolutely enamored by the finery and grace of the young knight, and they were betrothed mere months later. They were to be wed on her 18th birthday. However, talks of the lovely wedding turned into confusion as the knight seemed to become too ill to ever make public appearances. The population began to question if he would survive to the wedding. It was a tragic story that left much speculation for the kingdom to muse over.*
It was now the last week of Arthur's bachelor days, and Trist was unable to stand the thought of her dearest partner enduring the torture for the rest of his life. She landed on a hill a few miles away, finding some local wildlife to build some strength, and waited for nightfall.
The enticing lunar goddess was creeping too slowly towards the top of the world. Trist was anticipating on waiting for the moon to be directly above the castle before approaching the rescue mission, but became impatient, and jumped in the air with a burst of powerful leather wings.
Luckily, Trist was a very small being, the size of three horses. Bursting through the front doors were a trivial matter. The guards attempted bravery until she let out a beautiful stream of glowing blue flames, then scattered about, leaving her free to search for Arthur.
The king was all about open, massive rooms. Unfortunately, he did not feel the same about his hallways. It was no matter, however. Trist was strong, and the wooden supports were mere annoyances as she rampaged the fortress.
Deep into the castle, she heard the groans that could only be Arthur. The smell of blood and sweat confirmed her suspicions, and served as a burst of adrenaline to smash her way to the dark, gloomy room that might as well have been a dungeon.
The scene ahead of her was almost enough to make Trist sick, if she was a human. Arthur was tied into place on a bed with maroon sheets, and a half dressed Camille, darkness gleaming in her emerald eyes, was idly placing a hot poker on random parts of the naked knight's body. His figure was destroyed, covered in layers of scars from various instruments of Camille's entertainment. He was broken, eyes pale and distant as he tried his best to mentally escape her games.
The encounter was short and anticlimatic. Trist didn't allow the cruel Camille continued savagery, opting instead to lunge and take her body as a midnight snack.
The flight home was a long, arduous and fearful one. Arthur didn't even seem to recognize her. A shadow of a smile traced the bethrothed's face as he felt the cool air of freedom kiss his cheeks, and much needed rest overtook his exhausted body. She made sure to avoid any turbulence and stay as low to the ground as possible to not wear on the knight or his open wounds any more than naturally possible. Slow travel was prudent with her loose clasp of him, as she feared adding any more cuts.
A small group of close friends awaited them outside of the gates. A collective cry of anger and shock passed the group as Trist landed and gently placed Arthur on the ground. The moon was nearing her exit from the world as Arthur was rushed by horse carriage to the doctor to attempt to dress his wounds.
---
The physical wounds healed, but the destruction of the knight's soul and body was forever done. Trist was devastated as she knew that she had come too late. Everyone in the castle that hid him could see him slowly withering away, heard the screams at night of the relived memories.
She would take Arthur out for small adventures like they always did before, but they were comprised of blank stares at the lakes and him clinging to her as if he was afraid of disappearing forever if he loosened his grasp of her leg or neck. Speech slowly seemed to return to him, words then phrases. One day, Trist wished he had never been able to talk again.
"I can't do this, Trist. I can't sleep. Eating is a chore. Waking up is a chore. She is burned into my eyes. I am still there. I walk with you but I'm still in that hell, enduring scathing commentary during the day and scorching games at night. I'll never be your Arthur again."
She nuzzled him. *Don't say that. You're progressing every day.*
"Kill me. Please. I want to die."
A plume of instinctual smoke ejaculated from Trist's snout as she glared at him with amethyst orbs. *You do **not** mean that.*
"But I do. If you don't do it, I'll do it myself. I cannot keep going."
The sun made a long journey across their small forest as the stifling silence surrounded them. Suicide or homocide was the only choices she had, as he seemed determined to die. A fire had sparked in his eyes. As the light was beginning to fade, he stood, walked towards the river a few meters away, and drew his sword.
"Don't make me do this myself. I desire a chance at paradise." Tears began to streak down his carved face.
*Please, we can heal. You are strong.*
He raised his sword.
*ARTHUR.*
It found its target on his chest.
Trist leaped for the sword, willing to part him of his arm if that was what it took, but it was too late.
The town heard the roars of Trist, and the king issued a search party with their fastest horses. He knew where they were, and it wasn't far away.
When the group arrived to the clearing, the king dropped from his horse and attempted to recover, but only managed to bring himself to his knees. His beloved child, the only chance at advancing his family name, lay in the crimson pool of his life, next to the slumped body of the midnight dragon, her eyes vacant pools of sorrow. She had managed to relieve the body of the metallic method of suicide, but there was no way to repair his mangled heart.
The pyre that night was ignited by Trist herself. The sound of silence was crippling to the townsfolk as the smell of burnt flesh and the crackle of the fire licking away the mangled body chugged away. All was lost. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "You Never talk to me anymore, all of our conversations are one way. I slave over a hot furnace all day to make you a warm meal everyday when you come home from work. That dragon doesn't cook itself you know! HELLO! Can you even hear what i'm saying to right know."
(silence)
"God Charles, you are unbelievable. I don' t even know why I try with you anymore."
This had been Charlie's life for the past 7 years. After 11 hours off hunting dragons and scouting mountains, all Charlie wanted to come home to was peace. A nice relaxing evening free from bitching and complaining from his wife about how hard it was to be home. They didn't have kids after all, she was not expected to pay for anything and most importantly, he never asked anything in return from her for his hard work.
Charlie had been contemplating leaving her for a while now but he didn't have the heart to abandon his wife as he knew no other man in the village would marry her based on what she put Charlie through on a daily basis. Unfortunately, to Charlie death would be the only escape from his miserable life.
The next morning, Charlie woke up promptly at 5 am just as he had everyday. He gather his armor and weaponry from the blacksmith and prepared himself for another long shift of knight duty. His wife ordered him to be home by 6 sharp or she would throw his dinner in the garbage. Threats like this were not unusual for Charlie, he nodded and walked out the door. He arrived at the castle and the king had informed the army that a dragon was spotted in Tranmere (The next town over from his village, Swindmore). The knights ordered to aid the neighboring army in slaying the dragon and returning with it's head to prepare soup for all the people in Swindmore. Charlie and the rest of the kings men put on their helmets and marched towards Tranmere.
They had been traveling for a few hours now when finally one of the knights spotted the dragon on top of the watchtower blowing fire down on the poor civilians below. Then men met up with the brave warriors of Tranmere who then disclosed their plan of attack. The plan was to wait until sunset when the dragon would have tired himself of the destruction and retreat back to his cave for the night. They were to attack at this very moment and ambush the dragon right outside of his home and slay him then. The men responded in unison with a overwhelming, "Yes Sir!"
"Excuse me." a nervous voice said among the hundreds of men who just agreed to the plan.
"Yes?" responded the General of Tranmere.
"My wife asked that I might be home by 6, is there anyway we could ambush the dragon earlier?" asked Charlie.
The armies laughed as they thought this was a joke but the general looked in Charlies eyes and say that this was a genuine question.
"I am sorry" respond Joseph "We must attack while the dragon is tired and unsuspecting or else we will all surely killed"
Charlie nodded in compliance trying to hide his disagreement. Charlie knew if he wasn't home by 6 his wife would surely kill him if the dragon had not. He thought his best bet was to attack the dragon himself and be killed quickly than rather than suffer the wrath of an angry spouse. That afternoon around 5, Charlie slipped away from his platoon and prepared to march himself into battle with the dragon in hopes of a painless death.
Charlie arrived at the burning watchtower where the dragon had been and unsheathed his sword. The dragon stopped his destruction as he noticed Charlie. At this point, Charlie had been trembling with fear, a small crowd had gathered at the bottom of the hill once they noticed a single soldier attempting to slay a giant beast.
Charlie finally spoke up, "Excuse me, Dragon? Would you mind making my death quick I wouldn't want to burden you with my screams for too long."
The dragon puffed out a cloud of thick some from his nostrils and opened his mouth preparing to devour Charlie in a single bite. As he bent over to consume the soldier he made eye contact with him. The dragon saw the look in charlies eyes, it was the same look the dragon had every night when he returned to his wife who was unhappy with the dragon for spending to much time terrorizing villages. Immediately, the dragon stopped. He and Charlie stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. By this point almost the entire town had gathered at the bottom of the hill watching Charlie and the dragon.
Charlie gazed at the dragon, he too had recognized their connection in home lives. The dragon relaxed his tail and allowed Charlie to climb onto his back. Charlie climbed aboard the stroked the dragon on its side.
"yip, yip!" said Charlie, and the dragon jumped into the air and began flying toward the sunset.
"wait" said Charlie "one stop before we leave forever." Charlie guided the dragon towards Swindmore and landed the dragon on the roof of his home. The dragon looked at Charlie and awaited further instruction. The knight looked back at the now tamed beast and nodded his head. The dragon raised his hind leg and shit right on the roof of the home. A shit so massive it collapsed the house in a matter of seconds. Charlie's wife ran out, covered in feces and watched the dragon and Charlie fly away into the horizon.
Not much was said about the two after that. Charlie's wife had become a beggar who spent her days digging through garbage looking for any scrap of food she could find. Both villages had peace for years to come and no one worried about where the dragon would attack next. As for Charlie and the dragon, they spent their days traveling the world and shitting on all the people who deserved it.
tl;dr: Man and dragon live in abusive relationships and team up to shit on all abusive people in the world. | "So... so you just came after her?"
Despite Sir Elric's many protestations and declarations, Firemouth wouldn't get off the couch.
"Cease your bargaining, evil wyrm! Thy reign of terror is no more!"
Despite Firemouth's refusal to take him seriously, Elric kept up the show.
"Save me, Elric! Save your princess!"
Lady Bella rattled the bars of her cage as she cried out.
"Yes, I shall save my fair lady! Prepare to taste my steel, foul beast!"
Firemouth pressed a crooked talon to his left nostril and shot a quick flame into the bowl of the pipe sitting in his lap with effortless precision. He drew deeply and said, "I mean... fine, whatever, take her."
"Thy days of- wait, what?"
Firemouth exhaled an enormous cloud of purple smoke. "Yeah, go ahead. I didn't kidnap her, she's all yours."
"What are you... I mean, your tricks won't confuse me, dragon!" Elric was determined. "My mind is clear, and my will is iron! I shall strike you down this day!"
"Oh god, you're so fucking hot baby. Save me!"
"How long has she been stringing you along like this, dude?" The last tendrils of smoke drifted up past Firemouth's red eyes. His scaly eyelids blinked slowly.
"My lady is... my lady is the fairest of the land, and as such, detestable snakes like yourself steal her often! It is her beauty that-"
"The fuck would I want with a human woman, bro?"
"What?"
"I'm a dragon, man. She's a human. Why would I want to steal her?"
"She, she is the fairest in all the-"
"Dude, I'm a *dragon*. Even if I did find a member of another species attractive, what am I gonna do with her? Stare at her? I'm ten times your guys' size, if I did anything else I'd *break her in half*."
"Don't listen to him, baby! Slay this motherfucker!"
Elric's sword dropped a bit, but he raised it again. "Then... then you want her for her ransom!"
"I live in a cave, dude! Besides, dragons have their own currency. Your gold pieces are too small for me to even pick up."
"Yes, but it is well known that you and your lizardkin love gold! The feel, the smell, the-"
"Oh god, the fucking Smaug thing?" Firemouth rolled his eyes and took another drag of his pipe. "That was ONE FUCKING GUY with a gold fetish."
"A... gold fetish? I-"
"Shit's just ignorant, bro. Offensive, too."
Elric lowered his shield and sword. "Oh, my god, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"He's getting in your head, baby! He's gonna like... eat me or some shit! Get this fucking asshole!" She rattled her cage's bars again.
Firemouth exhaled and turned to her. "Will you knock it off with the fucking cage?"
Elric raised his sword and shield once more. "Ah ha! If you didn't take her here, then why is she in a cage?"
"I don't know, it's not mine. She brought the cage up here herself."
Lady Bella opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
"She... Bella, is this true?"
"Well... I mean, it's... I mean it's not like this is **my** cage, but-"
"Oh my god, Bella. What the fuck?" Elric dropped his sword and shield to the ground and began to pace.
"Ha. Hahahaha," Firemouth's laugh echoed off the enormous cave's walls as he lit up another drag of his pipe. "Yeah Bella, what the fuck?"
Elric put his hands on his hips. "Have *any* of these been real, then?"
Bella bit her lip and looked away.
"Oh what the FUCK, BELLA?!" Now Elric's voice echoed.
"Haaaaa! Hahahaha," Firemouth exhaled more purple smoke as he laughed. "I'm sorry, this isn't funny. This is pretty fucked up, actually. I'm so sorry, dude."
Bella kicked the cage door out and stormed up to Elric, pointing her finger in his face. "Don't you fucking curse at me, you fucking pussy!"
"Holy fucking shit, Bella! How many dragons have I killed for you?!"
"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it! You rode out here as fast as you could!"
"Oh shit, so this... this has been, like... happening for like... a while, hasn't it?" Firemouth's eyes had turned blood red.
Bella turned to Firemouth. "Shut the fuck up, you fucking pothead! You're ruining it!"
"Don't turn this around on him!" Elric grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "You've been getting yourself kidnapped for years!"
Bella pushed Elric away. "Yeah, well..." she stopped as her face started to seize up.
"What... what's going on? Is she like... ok, man?" Firemouth was barely hanging onto consciousness.
"Are you... are you trying to cry? Are you actually trying to cry right now?" Elric's eyes widened in amazement. "WOW, Bella. WOW."
Her face immediately turned to scorn. "Fuck you, you fucking asshole. Why don't you go suck your wizard friend's dick some more?"
"Really? You're going to bring Merlin, the *ancient wizard who came back from the dead to tell me I'm the hero chosen to reunite the provinces*?"
"Yeah, you've got time for him, but never for me!"
"That's because he's helping me *avoid the fucking orc apocalypse!*"
"Fuck you!" Bella spit at Elric.
"I'm done. I'm out of here. Go fuck yourself, Bella," Elric picked up his sword and shield, and walked towards the mouth of the cave.
Bella followed, screaming at him. "Don't you think we're fucking done here, you son of a bitch!"
"Don't fucking follow me! Get your own needy ass home! And don't think..." Elric's voice faded out as they left the cave.
Firemouth took another drag of his pipe and exhaled. "Oh fuck- Hey! You guys want your cage, or like...?" | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | There once was a princess' dragon
Since childhood, kept as a pet
Even in youth he was massively brute
And had stone scales that never stayed wet
|
Unbeknownst to the hundred-pound playmate
Was the princess' heart on her sleeve
Since the age of eighteen she'd been madly in love
With a daring young squire named Steve
|
Now this Steve was a little bit clueless
So he wasn't aware of her itch
All he saw when he looked at the princess' face
Was a ditz who was naive and rich
|
Having never worked more than a day in her years
And he, living out endless strife
By fates alone, wished that she was his own
As a trophy reward for a wife
|
Since the princess was pretty and Steve was quite vain
He'd settled on taking his chances
He hit her with ever dumb line in the book
In the place of authentic romances
|
Dragons, however, are smarter than smart
So her pet friend was wise to Steve's tricks
They're as patient a creature as can be, as well
So it waited—"Let's see if this sticks."
|
Five years had gone by, and she was still quite smitten
And Steve went from squire to knight
But he never got any more noble, therefore
The dragon saw this as a plight
|
"My poor friend the princess," the dragon called out
"What a sloppy, one-sided affair."
"This dude needs to go, so the princess will know
that it's me who will always be there."
|
If you're not yet made wise to a dragon's anatomy
I'll give you a simplified clue
In the time since their youth, dragon's weights? Through the roof!
Its once hundred pounds turned into two.
|
The dragon confronted Knight Steve in a field
And yelled "pick on someone your own size!"
So Steve drew out his sword, and then prayed to the lord
With both anger and fear in his eyes
|
He ran towards the dragon, and thrust forth his weapon
It hit, but then splintered to shards
"My scales are like rocks," the ticked dragon exclaimed
"Your demise may be found in your cards!"
|
Knight Steve drew his shield, quite expecting a flame
But never got shot by the beast
Said the pet: "It is *I* who have loved her the most
And for so long she's valued me least!"
|
So the dragon extended its thick, mighty claw
Cutting back through the air like a mace
Knight Steve, with no lance, then post-haste shit his pants
And the claws gently ripped off his face.
|
Flying far, the creature looked back to his girl
who mourned loud for the corpse of her beau
Then in sadness put walls up to not feel again
Leaving only this moral to know:
|
If you're pretty and dumb and your standards aren't high
You might find yourself lonely and blue,
For your knights could be dragons, and dragons white knights
With you helpless to sort out the two
| They grew up together. She remembered at four, the two took tumbling together. He was in that stupid play and at the community center and she volunteered to help out with stage props. It was funny, because he played a breaking-the-fourth-wall stagehand in that play, while she was an actual stage hand. At cotillion, she taught him to French kiss.
Even so, their marriage wasn’t a love match. It was more a coronation, a coming together of two families. Her family controlled the docks, transportation, unions. His held sway over the judges, cops, and traditional vices. But as she stood next to him in her traditional flowing red áo-dài, she didn’t feel like a mere bride. She felt like a princess being handed off by her father, the king, to the handsome young prince of the neighboring land.
Their life together felt like that first bite of a plump, ripe orange icy cold from the refrigerator. The sweet, eye-opening sensation when a burst of citrus fills your mouth, juicy, sweet, and so delicious. She could stare at him for hours, dreaming about his body pressed against hers. It all ended though that night six months ago when she saw him at the end of the darkened hall. She called his name and ran toward him. Then nothing, but black pain!
She woke in agony, buried in a shallow grave. Later, she learned that most of her relatives died that same night in a dramatically effective purge. Her family’s power shattered. She didn’t know how or why she personally survived. She’d been stabbed twice and her neck was bruised as if someone had tried to strangle her. But she did and now she was coming for him, her sweet prince.
They say six good soldiers are better than an army. She had her cousins at her side and one by one, the soldiers of his family were erased from the map. It took six months to heal and six months to get to this point, but now she stood in the rafters waiting to drop down when the curtain fell and all was darkness as the audience waited for the play to begin. But as she stared down at her prince, she saw he looked pale, ill, only vaguely aware of his surroundings.
Next to him stood her strong, powerful uncle, the Immortal Dragon of the Leong clan. Signaling to her cousins, she slowly retreated from her position, stopped by the sight of her uncle, the Dragon. She now questioned whether it had actually been her husband at the end of that dark hallway. It had seemed so simple. His family gained power. Her family lost power. But was it that simple? Nothing about her uncle was ever simple and if he was at her husband’s side, then her entire theory of what happened just turned on its head.
So on that night when a dragon stopped a princess from slaying her prince, it turned out to be the beginning of a love story and not the end. But that was a story for another day, one which could only be told after the princess defeated an evil, treacherous, and ostensibly immortal dragon, her uncle.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | It was love at first sight.
For her at least.
As a young squire, I used to get in trouble for listening to the romantic ballads of traveling bards instead of practicing my letters or martial arts. Stories of princesses*, dragons**, knights, and adventures*** filled my young head, and dreams of becoming the hero shaped my path to knighthood.
Of course, reality is nothing like the storybooks.
That's why I'm locked in a broom closet hiding from my Fiancée**** and praying to the thirty-five gods of harmony that she would get bored and leave before I had to piss.
It wasn't always this way.
In fact, Emerelda used to be quite fetching. Being the princess of a small country, the mystique of royalty and her apparent shyness were quite alluring to the impressionable eyes of a young man. And like many young men, I dreamed of one day doing deeds great enough to gain recognition from the king, and to get permission to date his daughter. If I had described her then, I would have likened her to pretty flowers, talked about her huge... tracts of land, and probably say her hair looked like the radiant sunset. Of course, that was before I had gotten to know her.
In any case, after attaining my knighthood, I left to adventure across the country and earn recognition in the eyes of the king. I delved dungeons, met dragons, met strange people, fought strange monsters, angered some wizards, and overall had quite the busy time. Over this period though, my dreams of the princess waned as my experiences educated me on life, love, and the pursuit of enough money to not starve.
Eventually though, I finally managed to complete a deed grand enough to garner the attention of the King^+ , and he invited me to join him as a guard in his castle. Having grown tired of adventuring^++ , I made my way back to the capital city. After a short ceremony wherein lots of people spoke too much and mistold the tales of my deeds, the king officially added me as a member of the royal guard.
So, in my new job, I spent most of my days just standing in doorways trying to look intimidating, patrolling the walls and hallways of the castle, and overall enjoying the nice and cushy life of a castle guard. Three meals a day combined with regular non-life-threatening exercise and a bed to sleep in were fantastic for my overall state of mind, though it did have a bit of a drawback. The daily routine in the castle had caused my sense of danger to weaken just enough that I was unable to detect the incoming disaster that loomed over me.
It started innocently enough, one day I was guarding the princess’ chambers, and as she was walking by, she stopped and asked what some bauble on my belt was^+++ . After hesitating a moment before I realised that she was actually talking to me, I took a glance at the item of note and told her a summarized princess-friendly version of how I came to possess it.
At this point let me note two things about the princess: first, whereas I had grown and aged well out adventuring the countryside, the sedentary lifestyle of a princess had not been so kind to her.
The radiant beauty of youth had slowly been worn down the the average attractiveness of the middle ages. Either that, or I my youthful memories misled me in how she used to look. Either way, at this point in my life, I had been involved with prettier women than she.
After all this time, she had also managed to stay single, though not through a lack of matchmaking effort on the part of her father, and had a slight propensity for taking in stray cats.
Regardless, after our small chat, she seemed to take notice of me. Small questions about various items and adventures in passing turned into having tea with her and her maid to regale them with tales of my past deeds. These interactions became more and more common, and like a frog in a pot of water on the stove, I failed to notice the signs of danger until it was almost too late.
A couple months after I took her fancy she called for me to join her for tea, a not uncommon request at the time. Thinking nothing of it, I went to her lounge and sat in my usual spot. Chatting idly with the princess, after a while I noticed that her maid was gone (flag no. 1). Then, after sitting for a while, she complained about the heat -in February mind you- and removed her shawl revealing a dress that was a bit to small and far too daring to be worn in public (flag no. 2). At this point my atrophied danger senses were finally getting around to telling my brain that something really fishy was going on.
After drinking some tea she talked about being tired and lamenter how her maid was gone. So she looked at me and, completely straight-faced, asked me to escort her to her room so she could take a nap.
I am not an idiot. I know the signs of a predator stalking their prey. I also knew that I liked my job just fine as it was, and risking it wasn’t worth a likely mediocre tryst with the princess.
So I did what and gentleman would do, and I played dumb.
“Of course, your highness. I would be more than happy to do so.”
She let out a small smile of victory, and let me lead her to her chambers. Opening the door for her, I let her in, and then closed it behind her. It took her a moment to realize that she had gone in alone, but it wasn’t long until she opened the door and saw me leaving.
“Praytell Sir Steven, why are you leaving my room? I still require assistance in preparing for my nap.” she called out through the open doorframe.
Looking back, I saw that within the fifteen seconds she was in there, she had already lost the dress and had somehow managed to drape herself in a towel.
Before I could answer, by life was saved by the entrance of the princess’ maid. Running inside, she held up a small wooden box. Panting heavily, she greeted me, and then called out to the princess. “Your highness, I have returned! Though it was difficult, I managed to find the bottled sunshine you tasked me to find.”
Opening the box, the maid pulled a small glass vial the size of a little finger from the box with a triumphant smile.
Taking advantage of the intrusion, I hastily bade good day to the two of them, and ran out of there like a mouse in a barnfire.
That wasn’t the end of it though.
Over the next couple of weeks, I found myself playing cat-and-mouse with the princess. Or I suppose that calling it cougar-and-mouse would be more apt. Some days she would ambush me in the halls, require me to join her on trips, or any other number of pursuits.
Then she claimed me to be her fiance.
That is when I knew I had to escape.
I was called to a conference with the king, and the captain of the guard one afternoon. Any time one is summoned by name to a conference with their boss and the king, is a time to worry. Steadying my nerves, I walked into the king’s office.
Bowing before the king, I immediately sprang into action.
“Sir, I promise that the fires behind the stables last night were totally and completely not my fault….” I started.
The two of them stared at each other a moment before chuckling.
“Actually Steven, this is not a disciplinary review.” The guard-captain said. “The King himself actually has a proposition for you.”
The first part was a major load off my back. The second one replaced the weight tenfold.
Nodding silently, I looked to the king expectantly.
Clearing his throat, he began to say some of the words I least wanted to hear.
“I want you to marry my daughter.”
Time froze.
“Uh, say again your highness?” I asked, hopeful that I misheard.
“Sir steven, I want you to marry my daughter. Over the past couple of weeks, she has been incessantly talking about you, and you are the first man I can recall that she has actually taken an interest in.”
Oh no.
Nonononononononononono.
Clinging onto a thread of hope, I sought to blame my job.
“But your Highness, I am but a lowly member of the castle guard. Surely there is someone better suited to her station than I for marriage.” Crossing my fingers I looked desperately at the guard-captain for support. He just smiled back at me.
“Actually, Guard-Captain Alenz and I have been talking. You will be reassigned to be her personal guard and retainer. As for the second part, you are already a Knight who has performed great deeds in this land; as such you are more than qualified to join my family.” Smiling at me like a kind old grandfather, the King knew exactly what he was doing.
By the end of the meeting, I had already begun my plan to escape.
Starting the next day, my life was hell.
---------
*who are not as great as the stories make them out to be.
**which are waaay cooler than the stories tell.
***It's like camping, but with more mortal danger. Adventures often seem to also have a strange predisposition for odd weather phenomenon and will often result in copious amounts of unseasonal rain/snow/sleet/mosquitoes/and wildfires. I cannot honestly recommend them to anyone.
**** It was her idea, not mine.
\+ If I recall, I had removed a cult of assassins or something. I don’t remember it well, as it was not too long after I had broken up with an ex and was drinking too much to remember everything going on at the time.
++ i.e. sleeping on the ground and getting rained on.
+++ Years of adventuring makes you a bit like a packrat. Over time I had grown accustomed to keeping small useful items on my person. Things like rings of communication, gemstones that will glow like a torch, pouches that are bigger on the inside than the outside; that sort of thing.
| The day had finally come. It is amazing how fast these things sneak up on you. What at first seemed like half a lifetime away had slipped closer and closer almost without notice until finally it was here. Of course, he did want to marry the princess. He was sure he did, every knight in the kingdom had entered that tourney knowing that this was the prize and he had been no different. He had felt that day that his whole life had been leading up to that moment and when it was he that emerged victorious he had felt an immense pride and satisfaction that he had earned the greatest prize in the land, the hand of the kings only daughter and following the marriage the kingdom itself.
The king had organised the tourney when he had learned of his failing health, but had kept this fact secret from the masses. No-one except his family and closest advisors had understood the urgency of the search for the future king until he suddenly passed and a wedding was hastily arranged. Dignitaries from all corners of the country had been gathered for two contrasting but equally momentous events, the burial of a king and the coronation of a new king. "The king is dead, long live the king."
"The king is dead..." those fateful words had hit the knight harder than any opponent had ever managed. Sure he wanted this, but he hadn't expected the call to rule for many years yet, after all, the king had seemed in rude health at the tourney, drinking and feasting till the early hours. He had been expected to sit in the throne for years yet, allowing the knight plenty of time to roam the land as he will, experiencing all there is to experience in what was to become his kingdom. Now it would be his kingdom in a matter of hours but ironically he would have far less freedom to know his country when he took up the mantle of ruler. Sure the peace established by the previous king was robust and should not prove overly difficult to maintain, but the relentless hospitallity required to maintain the hard won diplomatic alliances would fill his days with fatuous events involving too much dancing and food and not enough blood and wine.
And sex. As a knight of the realm he had never been short of company from the opposite sex when he desired it, even before he had proven himself the best knight in the country at the infamous tourney. It is not that he disliked the princess. They had gotten along reasonably well on the few occasions that had spent time together. But it was clear that apart from this union they had little in common. Of course it wasn't unheard of for a king to have mistresses, it was frowned upon and besides, it would not be the same as seducing some young thing in a new town who had no idea who you were. The massive crowd now gathered and the multitudinal posters being sent to every corner of the country would certainly put paid to that.
The soon to be king took a deep breath and stood up, taking a moment to enjoy the blissful solitude he would soon find it so hard to obtain. A page politely prompted him to move into position and he walked out of the room and followed the page to the small anteroom behind the courtyard which had been prepared for the ceremony. On the other side of the door were all the important people and the people who thought of themselves as important from all corners of the kingdom and the most important of their allies. All waiting to see the knew royal couple confirm their union. He pushed through door as he was announced to the crowd and was instantly aware of the eyes of every person there on him, watching and judging his every move. How he longed for his armour and a weapon!
There was a commotion towards the back of the crowd as the princesses arrival was announced and every eye moved away from the knight again. The princess moved down the aisle to the knight with a grace which belied the metres of fabric enveloping her and trailing off into the distance behind her. She reached the knight and turned to face him, looking up at him with a strange combination of nervousness and excitement that almost perfectly matched the knights own mood.
The priest stepped forward, preparing to deliver the ceremonial coup de gras when a shadow fell over the crowd. The deathly silence that fell over the courtyard was punctuated by the crack of leathery wings as the giant beast lazily glided low over the fearful crowd. The knight didn't hesitate, he had his best suit of armour back in his room and it would be the work of a moment to don it and carry his sword and shield again onto he field of battle. For the first time since the death of the previous king, the knight felt pure joy. This is what he was born to do. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | It was the most unusual test of wills that Sir Quirel had ever experienced in all the years of his life. Sitting across from him, wearing an honest-to-goddess smoking jacket and puffing on a pipe, was a dragon trying to come up with his next move on the game situated between them.
“I’m still not quite sure I follow,” Sir Quirel muttered as he idly clinked his glove on his chest plate. He had forgotten he was wearing armor for a moment and had gone to scratch a persistent itch.
The dragon rumbled for a moment, and sent a huge cloud of smoke up through his pipe before moving a piece on the game board in front of them. He held it for a moment longer, smiled to himself, then released the piece and leaned back in his chair. “I like the game, but there is more to it if you wish to hear.”
Quirel studied the move the dragon had made, tried to scratch again, and slowly nodded. “If you please, Sir….”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” the chuckled loudly, “but there is no honor amongst dragons in the way you humans understand.”
“But you have not yet told me your name,” Quirel muttered as he tried to come up with another move. The game was the dragon’s idea, much to Quirel’s dismay. It was a children’s game, meant to test one’s ability to think ahead, plan, and execute strategies. An extraordinary level of skill was required just to get into the knighthood, and Quirel was losing; but only barely.
“I never intended to,” the dragon said with another chuckle, and a larger puff of smoke.
“But for honorable combat…”
“Over a children’s game?”
Quirel winced; so the dragon knew it was a children’s game. “Well, no…”
“Then make your move, Knight,” the dragon said as he leaned back in his chair.
At that moment a low scream could be heard coming up through the deeper parts of the surprisingly well decorated and furnished cave. The dragon smiled coolly and Quirel winced; the Princess must be in great pain. He must attempt to move this along more quickly. He moved a piece.
The dragon’s eyebrows rose for a brief moment before he chewed his pipe stem and leaned forward. He rumbled in thought before sitting back, leaving the board untouched. “The King never explained it to you then?”
“What is there to explain,” Quirel asked, confident that his move had truly perplexed the dragon. “Salvage laws—“
“’Are very specific;’ yes, yes, I know that,” the dragon muttered as he chewed his pipe. “Save the Princess, become the prince, win the rights to the kingdom, etc. However, did he ever *explain* it to you?”
“I am not sure I follow,” Quirel said as he once again attempted to scratch his side. He frowned at the sudden clink and the lack of satisfaction once again.
“Typical.” The dragon leaned forward, moved a piece, and then leaned back again. “How many times have you been married?”
Quirel frowned, “None.”
“How many times would you like your wife to have been married?”
Quirel looked up from the board, a flash of anger crossing his face, “Just what are you implying, dragon?”
The dragon took his pipe out of his mouth and held it up in his hands in mock surrender, “I am merely trying to explain the situation. I had hoped the king would, but apparently he needs it to be ‘real.’”
Quirel nodded, but kept his eyes focused on the dragon as he moved his piece, and then removed several of the dragon’s pieces. He leaned back in his chair with a smile of satisfaction. “I would hope my wife had never been married, but if she had, then it would be because her husband had died unexpectedly.”
The dragon smiled, “The game turns on your favor, Sir Quirel.” He leaned forward and mulled over the pieces for several moments before moving yet another piece, causing the balance of power to return to himself. “How many times do you think Princess Laurela has been married?”
Another scream rose up from the cave and Sir Quirel leapt to his feet, his hand on his sword. The dragon, though oozing an air of calm confidence, tensed in preparation. This was always a danger for the method he took to convince the knights to just leave. He had done this dozens of times, spending much of his free time studying strategies and intricacies of the game to get this over with as quickly as possible every time the king sent a new knight. Quirel, however, was surprisingly good, even for knighthood standards.
Quirel eyed the dragon angrily before he finally settled back down. His jaw set, and a cold concentration seemed to flow over him. He was going to actually start taking the game seriously. He stared hard at the board for several minutes before he moved another piece, and firmly set the balance of power back in his favor. He then looked hard at the dragon, “How many times?”
The dragon idly scratched before leaning forward and studying the board. “Three.”
“Three!?”
“Three,” the dragon muttered again under his breath, “Three times I have lost and the Princess has been wed. Three times I have taken her back.”
“You truly are a monster,” Quirel muttered, “If I win this game, I will not only take her, I will slit your wicked throat as well.”
The dragon smiled sadly, “As is your right, but you are not asking the important questions.” He moved a piece on the board and partially restored his powerbase, but he was on the defensive now; good.
“Which is?”
The dragon sat upright and looked hard at Quirel, “Why has the king allowed me to take her four times now? Surely after the first two times he would have doubled, or even tripled the security on her. We dragons are tough, but we are not immortal.”
Quirel sputtered for a moment, “Well that’s because…Well obviously…The king would…” After a moment he grew quiet, and then truly thoughtful.
The dragon smiled, “Exactly. Why has she been kidnapped and rescued so many times? Salvage laws are very specific.”
Quirel frowned, “Once retaken, any previous relationships are voided. The rescued must marry the rescuer.”
The dragon nodded, “Which of course led to the all sorts of lucrative business options for dragons, and women who wanted husbands,” he paused and muttered with a smile, “or men who wanted husbands.” He then waved his pipe in Quirel’s direction, “So why would the king allow three previous husbands to have their claims to the throne nullified by dragon kidnapping? And why would none of those three husbands come rescue her themselves, thus solidifying their claims on both her and the throne?”
Quirel sat back and thought, but could not come up with a satisfactory answer. He puzzled, and pondered, and scratched his head, and would have sat there longer if the dragon hadn’t muttered, “Your move.” Coming to his senses, he moved a piece idly, and then sat back again.
“Why then,” Quirel asked, “Why would the king allow it?”
Another scream rose up from the depths, this time followed by something that sounded similar to insane laughter. The dragon winced, and then frowned, “Princess Laurela is completely, and utterly, insane.”
Quirel stared, his mouth slightly agape, “What?”
With a heavy sigh, the dragon leaned back in his chair, “Princess Laurela began showing symptoms for mental instability approximately 10 years ago. She was checked over by various doctors, witch doctors, medical doctors, and alleyway doctors; all of them proclaimed her irrevocably insane. So a scheme was concocted.”
“To have her kidnapped,” Quirel muttered.
“Yes,” the dragon said. “She was kidnapped by me, thus nullifying her marriage to the current prince in a very understandable and acceptable manner. No scandal, no tabloids, just good, old-fashioned dragon kidnapping and salvage laws.”
“But you said she had been married three times,” Quirel said.
“I did, and she was,” the dragon said as he puffed on his pipe. “The king had to act devastated, and so he organized so that, every year, a knight would make an attempt at rescuing the princess. Initially the knights came in all pompous and ready to fight, but my medical bills got too high.”
“Medical bills?”
The dragon laughed, “You don’t think I do this for free, do you?” He stopped laughing and smiled, “Yes, my medical bills. Two of those times were two of her other marriages. She had to be kidnapped again, so I did, but this time the king suggested a battle of wits instead, and suggested this game. No knight would turn down the opportunity to best a dragon at a knight’s game.”
“I suppose not,” Quirel said, realizing he had been suckered from the beginning with the game.
“I lost the first match, but got better and better,” the dragon said with a smile. He leaned forward and moved a piece on the board, “But I also began making this offer after the next knight was a sore loser.”
Quirel stared in disbelief. The move the dragon had just made completely exposed his defenses, and made it so the game could be won in one move; a simple, and fair, maneuver to completely end the game. He looked at the dragon and raised an eyebrow.
The dragon smiled, “If you don’t believe me then make your move, I will concede your victory without a fight, and you can become the prince of the kingdom.” He leaned back in his chair and puffed his pipe, “Or you can forfeit the game, and return to your life as you please. I hear in Yulir there is a ‘Knights of Laurela’ men’s club that is steadily growing in membership.”
Quirel sat for a moment before reaching over and unclipping his chestplate. He took off his glove, scratched his side, and smiled, “A challenging game, and I humbly offer my surrender. There is no way I can win.”
The dragon smiled, and reached across to shake Quirel’s hand. “I have ale if you wish to try again.”
“Only if it is a gentleman’s game,” Quirel said, “No stakes; just sport.”
“Agreed.”
----------
[r/grenadiere42] | The day had finally come. It is amazing how fast these things sneak up on you. What at first seemed like half a lifetime away had slipped closer and closer almost without notice until finally it was here. Of course, he did want to marry the princess. He was sure he did, every knight in the kingdom had entered that tourney knowing that this was the prize and he had been no different. He had felt that day that his whole life had been leading up to that moment and when it was he that emerged victorious he had felt an immense pride and satisfaction that he had earned the greatest prize in the land, the hand of the kings only daughter and following the marriage the kingdom itself.
The king had organised the tourney when he had learned of his failing health, but had kept this fact secret from the masses. No-one except his family and closest advisors had understood the urgency of the search for the future king until he suddenly passed and a wedding was hastily arranged. Dignitaries from all corners of the country had been gathered for two contrasting but equally momentous events, the burial of a king and the coronation of a new king. "The king is dead, long live the king."
"The king is dead..." those fateful words had hit the knight harder than any opponent had ever managed. Sure he wanted this, but he hadn't expected the call to rule for many years yet, after all, the king had seemed in rude health at the tourney, drinking and feasting till the early hours. He had been expected to sit in the throne for years yet, allowing the knight plenty of time to roam the land as he will, experiencing all there is to experience in what was to become his kingdom. Now it would be his kingdom in a matter of hours but ironically he would have far less freedom to know his country when he took up the mantle of ruler. Sure the peace established by the previous king was robust and should not prove overly difficult to maintain, but the relentless hospitallity required to maintain the hard won diplomatic alliances would fill his days with fatuous events involving too much dancing and food and not enough blood and wine.
And sex. As a knight of the realm he had never been short of company from the opposite sex when he desired it, even before he had proven himself the best knight in the country at the infamous tourney. It is not that he disliked the princess. They had gotten along reasonably well on the few occasions that had spent time together. But it was clear that apart from this union they had little in common. Of course it wasn't unheard of for a king to have mistresses, it was frowned upon and besides, it would not be the same as seducing some young thing in a new town who had no idea who you were. The massive crowd now gathered and the multitudinal posters being sent to every corner of the country would certainly put paid to that.
The soon to be king took a deep breath and stood up, taking a moment to enjoy the blissful solitude he would soon find it so hard to obtain. A page politely prompted him to move into position and he walked out of the room and followed the page to the small anteroom behind the courtyard which had been prepared for the ceremony. On the other side of the door were all the important people and the people who thought of themselves as important from all corners of the kingdom and the most important of their allies. All waiting to see the knew royal couple confirm their union. He pushed through door as he was announced to the crowd and was instantly aware of the eyes of every person there on him, watching and judging his every move. How he longed for his armour and a weapon!
There was a commotion towards the back of the crowd as the princesses arrival was announced and every eye moved away from the knight again. The princess moved down the aisle to the knight with a grace which belied the metres of fabric enveloping her and trailing off into the distance behind her. She reached the knight and turned to face him, looking up at him with a strange combination of nervousness and excitement that almost perfectly matched the knights own mood.
The priest stepped forward, preparing to deliver the ceremonial coup de gras when a shadow fell over the crowd. The deathly silence that fell over the courtyard was punctuated by the crack of leathery wings as the giant beast lazily glided low over the fearful crowd. The knight didn't hesitate, he had his best suit of armour back in his room and it would be the work of a moment to don it and carry his sword and shield again onto he field of battle. For the first time since the death of the previous king, the knight felt pure joy. This is what he was born to do. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Dragons are a very important natural resource, though most mortal being have no idea of this fact. They just think we're a bunch of flying, elemental-spewing lizards that hoard gold, ravage the countryside, and devour virgins.
Flying yes, elemental spewing yes, lizards no. We dragons are decidedly not reptiles. We were here first, before the reptiles, before the mammals, and they went and stole bits out our design. The reptiles made off with our scales and decided to be silly and splay-legged and belly crawly, while the mammals decided "Hey we want to be able to nurse our young and have nice, straight legs that are good for running and sometimes even manual dexterity. Fuck the long tails and necks though, and we want to be covered in ridiculous, easily pierced fluff."
And you'd ravage the countryside too if, let's go with something comparative in size, a bunch of bunny rabbits stole everything that wasn't nailed down while you were taking a nap. You'd flush out, fill in, and set fire to every bunny burrow in hopes of getting information to getting your personal property back.
But with dragons things are on a much longer time scale, a nap can be a few months, while a good solid sleep can last a few decades, and a chronic oversleeper might stir after a century or two.
We need our nice, long naps, they're very important for the continued health of the dragon, and for the world.
See, dragons are innately magical creatures, which is why when we're slain mortals can use just about every bit of us for some magical thing or another. Arms, armor, magical potions, decorative night stands made out of skulls whose eye sockets glow with inner radiance, etc, etc.
That's because we're all basically walking, talking ley lines. We're living conduits of raw elemental power, and we bring that to the lands in which we dwell.
Of course it's not obvious to mortals because they tend to keel over dead after three centuries, tops.
They see fire elemental dragons residing in volcanoes and ice dragons living in arctic tundras and glaciers and floating icebergs and whatnot and think "Oh, the dragon must live there because it's a comfortable environment."
That is cloaca-backwards. Volcanoes spring up because there's a fire dragon living there. Places freeze over because there's been an ice dragon in residence for a century or more.
You wouldn't like a world without dragons, it would result in an utterly boring landscape created by rules of wind, erosion, elevation, and water flow. You wouldn't have interesting places like my little spot of the countryside, where my neighbors are a steamy rain-forest, a bleak salt flat, a frozen valley, some volcanic mountains, and a nasty, stinky swamp.
All this surrounds the forty mile or so diameter circle around my lair, where the land is beautiful and gorgeous filled with good soil for bountiful crops, peaceful and cute animals (like the aforementioned fluffy bunnies), and nice, sunny weather where the rain around like clockwork, and only at night so as not to bother the inhabitants.
I'm a Benedictine dragon, and I bring order and placidness into the world through my very presence.
My element is named after the Benedictine School of magic, where one uses the elements in more sedate, natural ways to accomplish things. Safe, simple, predictable, and clean.
As opposed to the Maledictine School which is messy, sometimes complex, sometimes random, moderately unsafe, and decidedly weird.
My half sister down to the south, the one in the swamp, she's a Maledictine dragon. Her breath weapon is identical to my own fire, except that hers is blue, and instead of heat it throws off cold completely in the violation of physics and thermodynamics and whatnot.
Stereotypically the two schools are labelled "Good" and "Evil" by a lot of mortals, but one's morality is decided through one's thoughts and deeds, rather than one's preferred element and method of spellcasting.
My sister, for example, is just about the most polite and well-behaved dragoness you could possibly every hope to meet. She's also terribly shy, has problems talking to new people, and generally just likes to stay in the middle of her swamp tending to her undead legions.
Umm… she also just so happens to be the dragon equivalent of a crazy cat lady, but with the undead.
She mostly has mindless zombies and skeletons, and keeps them out of trouble by tending to her gardens. She's also a cook and an alchemist, so she's got a lot of interesting plants growing.
And it's hard to do delicate works when your fingers have claws on the end and are as thick as tree branches.
Which was why I was flying out today. Something radiating quite a bit of Maledictine and Void mana had managed to wander into my nice, quiet fairy tale kingdom and needed to be shooed back into my sister's lands before it caused any troubles.
It was already causing nasty black clouds in my otherwise pristine blue sky, and seemed to be providing thunder and lightning in high amounts, but no rain.
Ugh. It was probably holed up in the old church fort that I kept around because I liked the shabby chic aesthetic of the place. But I was starting to think I'd have been better off knocking it down, as mortals seemed to think it was a castle of some sort and that the architecture was decidedly sinister enough to make it an evil lair.
Though I have to admit I'm probably somewhat to blame for that. The stones are mostly black, as I keep having to swoop by and clean the place out of bandits, cultists, slimes, and the occasional infestation of giant rats every so often, and it takes so much effort to scrub soot from my fire breath off the rocks.
So the place is dark, ruined, ominous, and a former church, so all evil-doing within is also blasphemous. Thus a magnet for all the naughty activity in my realm.
Then again I suppose if I knocked it down, they baddies would misbehave in other places, rather than popping up again and again in a nice predictable spot.
I sighed as I spread my wings to slow my descent and land in the courtyard.
I could hear the mad cackling from all the way up here. I couldn't make out the words, but from the way someone had been shouting for the past minute or so it sounded like your typical "They called me mad, MAD! But know I, Professor von Frumpensmergle, will show them! I WILL SHOW THEM ALL! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!" type speech.
They always hold up in the fort's sanctum, where some ne'er do well squatter went and put a dias on the raised altar platform to make it a proper throne room.
I'd kept it like that, since that made it pretty easy to hop in, eat the leader of the offending infestation, and resolve the whole issue.
I'd even had carpenters in to put some hinges on a suitably large section of the roof so that I could just lift it up and pop in without having to wriggle through hallways that were not sized with fully grown dragonesses in mind.
So I lifted up the roof, stuck my head in and saw the wrongest wrong thing in the history of wrong.
The mad cackling was not coming from a skinny, pale, frail wizard, a wild-haired scientist in a lab coat, or a powerful, yet still rotund leader of a band of demi-humans. But rather a young woman in a suitably fairy tale-esque pink dress. But it wasn't quite right, as the pink garment had black accents, and the princess-y vibe was utterly ruined by shiny silver gauntlets, greaves, and a breastplate, as well as scandalous shortness. The dress barely reached her knees!
The lady had a matching silver staff with a skull on top (with the requisite glowing eyes), but she also carried a sword! The noblewomen of the Meadowgrass Kingdom didn't use swords! If they had to battle they were either archers or magicians!
I shook my head at the whole sight. The young lady necromancer definitely had her clothes made around here, as the styles were right, and the craftsmanship exquisite, and the ominous details of all the skull detailing on her armor was nowhere near creepy. The skulls were happy and pleasant and cheerful.
And that meant that she was a local girl, too. No proper evil necromancer would go marching around with a general look that could only be described as "cutesy."
And she had a captive. A huge, powerful, towering man in black leather armor had a chain around his neck that had been attached to the heavy stone altar, which had been set for tea. The black knight calmly polished his monocle, sipped delicately from a cup of tea with his pinky extended and shook his head at his captor's theatrics.
"Madam, I quite understand where you're coming from, but I am quite sure that this has gone too far. Certainly a nice sit down in front of the fire with your father to discuss the matter of your matrimony would accomplish things in a far more civil fashion than abducting the ambassador of your fiance's kingdom." he said in his posh Greenspire Jungle accent.
"My father refuses, REFUSES to see reason! I am the eldest, the firstborn, and yet I am to be shipped off from paradise to your wretched land of chronic rain, mosquitoes, and misery, while my brother takes the throne!"
The knight nodded, refilling his cup from the teapot, and then pouring a second.
"One lump or sugar or two, your highness?" the knight asked politely.
"Two please." she said, accepting the cup and taking a sip before drawing in a deep breath for some more ranting.
Your highness?!
I squinted. Human faces are so tiny and difficult to make out.
"Princess Buttercup?!" I said with a gasp.
The necromancer-princess spun, dropping her cup of tea in shock (which was expertly caught by the Greenspire ambassador and placed back on the table for later consumption), staring up at me with wide eyes.
"Goldengleam!" the princess groaned, "You're going to ruin everything!" | The day had finally come. It is amazing how fast these things sneak up on you. What at first seemed like half a lifetime away had slipped closer and closer almost without notice until finally it was here. Of course, he did want to marry the princess. He was sure he did, every knight in the kingdom had entered that tourney knowing that this was the prize and he had been no different. He had felt that day that his whole life had been leading up to that moment and when it was he that emerged victorious he had felt an immense pride and satisfaction that he had earned the greatest prize in the land, the hand of the kings only daughter and following the marriage the kingdom itself.
The king had organised the tourney when he had learned of his failing health, but had kept this fact secret from the masses. No-one except his family and closest advisors had understood the urgency of the search for the future king until he suddenly passed and a wedding was hastily arranged. Dignitaries from all corners of the country had been gathered for two contrasting but equally momentous events, the burial of a king and the coronation of a new king. "The king is dead, long live the king."
"The king is dead..." those fateful words had hit the knight harder than any opponent had ever managed. Sure he wanted this, but he hadn't expected the call to rule for many years yet, after all, the king had seemed in rude health at the tourney, drinking and feasting till the early hours. He had been expected to sit in the throne for years yet, allowing the knight plenty of time to roam the land as he will, experiencing all there is to experience in what was to become his kingdom. Now it would be his kingdom in a matter of hours but ironically he would have far less freedom to know his country when he took up the mantle of ruler. Sure the peace established by the previous king was robust and should not prove overly difficult to maintain, but the relentless hospitallity required to maintain the hard won diplomatic alliances would fill his days with fatuous events involving too much dancing and food and not enough blood and wine.
And sex. As a knight of the realm he had never been short of company from the opposite sex when he desired it, even before he had proven himself the best knight in the country at the infamous tourney. It is not that he disliked the princess. They had gotten along reasonably well on the few occasions that had spent time together. But it was clear that apart from this union they had little in common. Of course it wasn't unheard of for a king to have mistresses, it was frowned upon and besides, it would not be the same as seducing some young thing in a new town who had no idea who you were. The massive crowd now gathered and the multitudinal posters being sent to every corner of the country would certainly put paid to that.
The soon to be king took a deep breath and stood up, taking a moment to enjoy the blissful solitude he would soon find it so hard to obtain. A page politely prompted him to move into position and he walked out of the room and followed the page to the small anteroom behind the courtyard which had been prepared for the ceremony. On the other side of the door were all the important people and the people who thought of themselves as important from all corners of the kingdom and the most important of their allies. All waiting to see the knew royal couple confirm their union. He pushed through door as he was announced to the crowd and was instantly aware of the eyes of every person there on him, watching and judging his every move. How he longed for his armour and a weapon!
There was a commotion towards the back of the crowd as the princesses arrival was announced and every eye moved away from the knight again. The princess moved down the aisle to the knight with a grace which belied the metres of fabric enveloping her and trailing off into the distance behind her. She reached the knight and turned to face him, looking up at him with a strange combination of nervousness and excitement that almost perfectly matched the knights own mood.
The priest stepped forward, preparing to deliver the ceremonial coup de gras when a shadow fell over the crowd. The deathly silence that fell over the courtyard was punctuated by the crack of leathery wings as the giant beast lazily glided low over the fearful crowd. The knight didn't hesitate, he had his best suit of armour back in his room and it would be the work of a moment to don it and carry his sword and shield again onto he field of battle. For the first time since the death of the previous king, the knight felt pure joy. This is what he was born to do. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Dwayne caught his breath as he stood at the mouth of the terrible volcano, Harbinger. As he stood on the edge he looked at his target, a great tower in the center of a fiery lake with only old rope bridge leading connecting it to the outside world. Sir Dwayne knelt and said his prayers to the Gods, for he knew he must be right with them; after all, this could be his last day on Earth. There were many tales about the great blight on this land, the fearsome dragon, Puff who raided many local farms, taking plants and animals from them. While a threat, this didn't become an issue for the King until he grabbed his daughter one time while she was visiting the town during a fair. The King called on the bravest knights of the land to answer the call and return her to him but only Sir Dwayne of the Holy Order answered the call and vowed to save her. And now, with his breath returned to him, he knew his destiny was upon him.
As Sir Dwayne made his way to the bridge he kept ever vigilant, for death lurked around every corner; this he was sure of. But it was quiet, much too quiet and he feared he was walking into a trap. It was said that dragons are intelligent beasts with a cunning and sadistic nature. But no danger approached Sir Dwayne yet, as he successfully crossed the shaking bridge to arrive at the entrance of castle. Suddenly, he heard it a roar in the bowels of the castle, great and powerful. *Groawwwwr*. Sir Dwayne repeated the holy incantations to himself then bravely entered this Evil Castle.
Every step he took it felt as thought the ground was shaking as Sir Dwayne grew more and more scared of this Demon sent forth from the God of Darkness. *Groawwwwr* He knew the scriptures as well as any in the order and knew the perils facing him. *Groawwwwr* May the Goddess of wind grant him breath, and the God of War grant him strength. And with his plea to the Gods Sir Dwayne entered the great chamber to face his destiny. In front of him was a giant, green, scaly, beast; hideous and horrifying at the same time.
Sir Dwayne bellowed out to it "In the name of the Kingdom and all the gods I will slay thee and rid this world of your terrifying presence!". Just then the giant beast turned to face him and Sir Dwayne gripped his holy sword and shield closer, ready to do battle.
*Groawwwwr, Groawwwwr, GROAWWWWR, Oh... that's so much better, had some cow stuck in my throat. Anyway, what's... what's going on?*.
Sir Dwayne was shocked at the beasts knowledge of their tongue but thought he could use the parley to distract the beast as he got a better vantage point. "I am Sir Dwayne and I was sent here, great and terrible dragon, to save the princess and right the world of your crimes."
*haha, what?*.
"Your crimes filthy bea...."
*I'm gonna level with you right now, I am waaay out of it right now. Like I'm only getting bits and pieces of what your saying. Speaking of which, you wanna hit?*.
"I will not be mocked sir dragon.."
*Sir Dragon was my father, I'm Puff*
"Well, Puff, I am here to slay you for your theft of crops and cattle and t..."
*Oh, come on man, that's so fascist*
"What?"
*Nobody owns the plants and animals, it belongs to all of us. So much fighting would be over if we all learned to share the Earth, man*
"You stole from farm owners"
*Who had no claim to the land. It belongs to all of us man, plus, you know... I always get hungry when I'm like this*
"When you are like what?"
*What?!? Experiencing the world, man*
"I don't follow"
*You know, lighting one up, getting blazed, getting stoned*
"That's all you do in your free time?"
*Not all of us want to become fascist conquerers dad... i mean Dwayne*
"Forget it, Where is the princess"
*dude, forget about her. I dropped her in some random field. Total premdo... prema...*
"primadonna?"
*yeah, dude. Major buzzkill. Just trying to bark orders all the time. You ever feel stressed when you got people like that in your life?*
"Well, it's a little tiring at times, but it's my responsibility"
*dude, that's just the government trying to control you. You gotta see through the lies man*
"this is the only life I've known"
*Here, try this. It'll open your mind*
"Well, I guess one time won't hurt"
......
......
"hey man, you ever wonder if there's other worlds out there, with other creatures out there"
*Dude, all the time man* | The day had finally come. It is amazing how fast these things sneak up on you. What at first seemed like half a lifetime away had slipped closer and closer almost without notice until finally it was here. Of course, he did want to marry the princess. He was sure he did, every knight in the kingdom had entered that tourney knowing that this was the prize and he had been no different. He had felt that day that his whole life had been leading up to that moment and when it was he that emerged victorious he had felt an immense pride and satisfaction that he had earned the greatest prize in the land, the hand of the kings only daughter and following the marriage the kingdom itself.
The king had organised the tourney when he had learned of his failing health, but had kept this fact secret from the masses. No-one except his family and closest advisors had understood the urgency of the search for the future king until he suddenly passed and a wedding was hastily arranged. Dignitaries from all corners of the country had been gathered for two contrasting but equally momentous events, the burial of a king and the coronation of a new king. "The king is dead, long live the king."
"The king is dead..." those fateful words had hit the knight harder than any opponent had ever managed. Sure he wanted this, but he hadn't expected the call to rule for many years yet, after all, the king had seemed in rude health at the tourney, drinking and feasting till the early hours. He had been expected to sit in the throne for years yet, allowing the knight plenty of time to roam the land as he will, experiencing all there is to experience in what was to become his kingdom. Now it would be his kingdom in a matter of hours but ironically he would have far less freedom to know his country when he took up the mantle of ruler. Sure the peace established by the previous king was robust and should not prove overly difficult to maintain, but the relentless hospitallity required to maintain the hard won diplomatic alliances would fill his days with fatuous events involving too much dancing and food and not enough blood and wine.
And sex. As a knight of the realm he had never been short of company from the opposite sex when he desired it, even before he had proven himself the best knight in the country at the infamous tourney. It is not that he disliked the princess. They had gotten along reasonably well on the few occasions that had spent time together. But it was clear that apart from this union they had little in common. Of course it wasn't unheard of for a king to have mistresses, it was frowned upon and besides, it would not be the same as seducing some young thing in a new town who had no idea who you were. The massive crowd now gathered and the multitudinal posters being sent to every corner of the country would certainly put paid to that.
The soon to be king took a deep breath and stood up, taking a moment to enjoy the blissful solitude he would soon find it so hard to obtain. A page politely prompted him to move into position and he walked out of the room and followed the page to the small anteroom behind the courtyard which had been prepared for the ceremony. On the other side of the door were all the important people and the people who thought of themselves as important from all corners of the kingdom and the most important of their allies. All waiting to see the knew royal couple confirm their union. He pushed through door as he was announced to the crowd and was instantly aware of the eyes of every person there on him, watching and judging his every move. How he longed for his armour and a weapon!
There was a commotion towards the back of the crowd as the princesses arrival was announced and every eye moved away from the knight again. The princess moved down the aisle to the knight with a grace which belied the metres of fabric enveloping her and trailing off into the distance behind her. She reached the knight and turned to face him, looking up at him with a strange combination of nervousness and excitement that almost perfectly matched the knights own mood.
The priest stepped forward, preparing to deliver the ceremonial coup de gras when a shadow fell over the crowd. The deathly silence that fell over the courtyard was punctuated by the crack of leathery wings as the giant beast lazily glided low over the fearful crowd. The knight didn't hesitate, he had his best suit of armour back in his room and it would be the work of a moment to don it and carry his sword and shield again onto he field of battle. For the first time since the death of the previous king, the knight felt pure joy. This is what he was born to do. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Dragons are a very important natural resource, though most mortal being have no idea of this fact. They just think we're a bunch of flying, elemental-spewing lizards that hoard gold, ravage the countryside, and devour virgins.
Flying yes, elemental spewing yes, lizards no. We dragons are decidedly not reptiles. We were here first, before the reptiles, before the mammals, and they went and stole bits out our design. The reptiles made off with our scales and decided to be silly and splay-legged and belly crawly, while the mammals decided "Hey we want to be able to nurse our young and have nice, straight legs that are good for running and sometimes even manual dexterity. Fuck the long tails and necks though, and we want to be covered in ridiculous, easily pierced fluff."
And you'd ravage the countryside too if, let's go with something comparative in size, a bunch of bunny rabbits stole everything that wasn't nailed down while you were taking a nap. You'd flush out, fill in, and set fire to every bunny burrow in hopes of getting information to getting your personal property back.
But with dragons things are on a much longer time scale, a nap can be a few months, while a good solid sleep can last a few decades, and a chronic oversleeper might stir after a century or two.
We need our nice, long naps, they're very important for the continued health of the dragon, and for the world.
See, dragons are innately magical creatures, which is why when we're slain mortals can use just about every bit of us for some magical thing or another. Arms, armor, magical potions, decorative night stands made out of skulls whose eye sockets glow with inner radiance, etc, etc.
That's because we're all basically walking, talking ley lines. We're living conduits of raw elemental power, and we bring that to the lands in which we dwell.
Of course it's not obvious to mortals because they tend to keel over dead after three centuries, tops.
They see fire elemental dragons residing in volcanoes and ice dragons living in arctic tundras and glaciers and floating icebergs and whatnot and think "Oh, the dragon must live there because it's a comfortable environment."
That is cloaca-backwards. Volcanoes spring up because there's a fire dragon living there. Places freeze over because there's been an ice dragon in residence for a century or more.
You wouldn't like a world without dragons, it would result in an utterly boring landscape created by rules of wind, erosion, elevation, and water flow. You wouldn't have interesting places like my little spot of the countryside, where my neighbors are a steamy rain-forest, a bleak salt flat, a frozen valley, some volcanic mountains, and a nasty, stinky swamp.
All this surrounds the forty mile or so diameter circle around my lair, where the land is beautiful and gorgeous filled with good soil for bountiful crops, peaceful and cute animals (like the aforementioned fluffy bunnies), and nice, sunny weather where the rain around like clockwork, and only at night so as not to bother the inhabitants.
I'm a Benedictine dragon, and I bring order and placidness into the world through my very presence.
My element is named after the Benedictine School of magic, where one uses the elements in more sedate, natural ways to accomplish things. Safe, simple, predictable, and clean.
As opposed to the Maledictine School which is messy, sometimes complex, sometimes random, moderately unsafe, and decidedly weird.
My half sister down to the south, the one in the swamp, she's a Maledictine dragon. Her breath weapon is identical to my own fire, except that hers is blue, and instead of heat it throws off cold completely in the violation of physics and thermodynamics and whatnot.
Stereotypically the two schools are labelled "Good" and "Evil" by a lot of mortals, but one's morality is decided through one's thoughts and deeds, rather than one's preferred element and method of spellcasting.
My sister, for example, is just about the most polite and well-behaved dragoness you could possibly every hope to meet. She's also terribly shy, has problems talking to new people, and generally just likes to stay in the middle of her swamp tending to her undead legions.
Umm… she also just so happens to be the dragon equivalent of a crazy cat lady, but with the undead.
She mostly has mindless zombies and skeletons, and keeps them out of trouble by tending to her gardens. She's also a cook and an alchemist, so she's got a lot of interesting plants growing.
And it's hard to do delicate works when your fingers have claws on the end and are as thick as tree branches.
Which was why I was flying out today. Something radiating quite a bit of Maledictine and Void mana had managed to wander into my nice, quiet fairy tale kingdom and needed to be shooed back into my sister's lands before it caused any troubles.
It was already causing nasty black clouds in my otherwise pristine blue sky, and seemed to be providing thunder and lightning in high amounts, but no rain.
Ugh. It was probably holed up in the old church fort that I kept around because I liked the shabby chic aesthetic of the place. But I was starting to think I'd have been better off knocking it down, as mortals seemed to think it was a castle of some sort and that the architecture was decidedly sinister enough to make it an evil lair.
Though I have to admit I'm probably somewhat to blame for that. The stones are mostly black, as I keep having to swoop by and clean the place out of bandits, cultists, slimes, and the occasional infestation of giant rats every so often, and it takes so much effort to scrub soot from my fire breath off the rocks.
So the place is dark, ruined, ominous, and a former church, so all evil-doing within is also blasphemous. Thus a magnet for all the naughty activity in my realm.
Then again I suppose if I knocked it down, they baddies would misbehave in other places, rather than popping up again and again in a nice predictable spot.
I sighed as I spread my wings to slow my descent and land in the courtyard.
I could hear the mad cackling from all the way up here. I couldn't make out the words, but from the way someone had been shouting for the past minute or so it sounded like your typical "They called me mad, MAD! But know I, Professor von Frumpensmergle, will show them! I WILL SHOW THEM ALL! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!" type speech.
They always hold up in the fort's sanctum, where some ne'er do well squatter went and put a dias on the raised altar platform to make it a proper throne room.
I'd kept it like that, since that made it pretty easy to hop in, eat the leader of the offending infestation, and resolve the whole issue.
I'd even had carpenters in to put some hinges on a suitably large section of the roof so that I could just lift it up and pop in without having to wriggle through hallways that were not sized with fully grown dragonesses in mind.
So I lifted up the roof, stuck my head in and saw the wrongest wrong thing in the history of wrong.
The mad cackling was not coming from a skinny, pale, frail wizard, a wild-haired scientist in a lab coat, or a powerful, yet still rotund leader of a band of demi-humans. But rather a young woman in a suitably fairy tale-esque pink dress. But it wasn't quite right, as the pink garment had black accents, and the princess-y vibe was utterly ruined by shiny silver gauntlets, greaves, and a breastplate, as well as scandalous shortness. The dress barely reached her knees!
The lady had a matching silver staff with a skull on top (with the requisite glowing eyes), but she also carried a sword! The noblewomen of the Meadowgrass Kingdom didn't use swords! If they had to battle they were either archers or magicians!
I shook my head at the whole sight. The young lady necromancer definitely had her clothes made around here, as the styles were right, and the craftsmanship exquisite, and the ominous details of all the skull detailing on her armor was nowhere near creepy. The skulls were happy and pleasant and cheerful.
And that meant that she was a local girl, too. No proper evil necromancer would go marching around with a general look that could only be described as "cutesy."
And she had a captive. A huge, powerful, towering man in black leather armor had a chain around his neck that had been attached to the heavy stone altar, which had been set for tea. The black knight calmly polished his monocle, sipped delicately from a cup of tea with his pinky extended and shook his head at his captor's theatrics.
"Madam, I quite understand where you're coming from, but I am quite sure that this has gone too far. Certainly a nice sit down in front of the fire with your father to discuss the matter of your matrimony would accomplish things in a far more civil fashion than abducting the ambassador of your fiance's kingdom." he said in his posh Greenspire Jungle accent.
"My father refuses, REFUSES to see reason! I am the eldest, the firstborn, and yet I am to be shipped off from paradise to your wretched land of chronic rain, mosquitoes, and misery, while my brother takes the throne!"
The knight nodded, refilling his cup from the teapot, and then pouring a second.
"One lump or sugar or two, your highness?" the knight asked politely.
"Two please." she said, accepting the cup and taking a sip before drawing in a deep breath for some more ranting.
Your highness?!
I squinted. Human faces are so tiny and difficult to make out.
"Princess Buttercup?!" I said with a gasp.
The necromancer-princess spun, dropping her cup of tea in shock (which was expertly caught by the Greenspire ambassador and placed back on the table for later consumption), staring up at me with wide eyes.
"Goldengleam!" the princess groaned, "You're going to ruin everything!" | It was love at first sight.
For her at least.
As a young squire, I used to get in trouble for listening to the romantic ballads of traveling bards instead of practicing my letters or martial arts. Stories of princesses*, dragons**, knights, and adventures*** filled my young head, and dreams of becoming the hero shaped my path to knighthood.
Of course, reality is nothing like the storybooks.
That's why I'm locked in a broom closet hiding from my Fiancée**** and praying to the thirty-five gods of harmony that she would get bored and leave before I had to piss.
It wasn't always this way.
In fact, Emerelda used to be quite fetching. Being the princess of a small country, the mystique of royalty and her apparent shyness were quite alluring to the impressionable eyes of a young man. And like many young men, I dreamed of one day doing deeds great enough to gain recognition from the king, and to get permission to date his daughter. If I had described her then, I would have likened her to pretty flowers, talked about her huge... tracts of land, and probably say her hair looked like the radiant sunset. Of course, that was before I had gotten to know her.
In any case, after attaining my knighthood, I left to adventure across the country and earn recognition in the eyes of the king. I delved dungeons, met dragons, met strange people, fought strange monsters, angered some wizards, and overall had quite the busy time. Over this period though, my dreams of the princess waned as my experiences educated me on life, love, and the pursuit of enough money to not starve.
Eventually though, I finally managed to complete a deed grand enough to garner the attention of the King^+ , and he invited me to join him as a guard in his castle. Having grown tired of adventuring^++ , I made my way back to the capital city. After a short ceremony wherein lots of people spoke too much and mistold the tales of my deeds, the king officially added me as a member of the royal guard.
So, in my new job, I spent most of my days just standing in doorways trying to look intimidating, patrolling the walls and hallways of the castle, and overall enjoying the nice and cushy life of a castle guard. Three meals a day combined with regular non-life-threatening exercise and a bed to sleep in were fantastic for my overall state of mind, though it did have a bit of a drawback. The daily routine in the castle had caused my sense of danger to weaken just enough that I was unable to detect the incoming disaster that loomed over me.
It started innocently enough, one day I was guarding the princess’ chambers, and as she was walking by, she stopped and asked what some bauble on my belt was^+++ . After hesitating a moment before I realised that she was actually talking to me, I took a glance at the item of note and told her a summarized princess-friendly version of how I came to possess it.
At this point let me note two things about the princess: first, whereas I had grown and aged well out adventuring the countryside, the sedentary lifestyle of a princess had not been so kind to her.
The radiant beauty of youth had slowly been worn down the the average attractiveness of the middle ages. Either that, or I my youthful memories misled me in how she used to look. Either way, at this point in my life, I had been involved with prettier women than she.
After all this time, she had also managed to stay single, though not through a lack of matchmaking effort on the part of her father, and had a slight propensity for taking in stray cats.
Regardless, after our small chat, she seemed to take notice of me. Small questions about various items and adventures in passing turned into having tea with her and her maid to regale them with tales of my past deeds. These interactions became more and more common, and like a frog in a pot of water on the stove, I failed to notice the signs of danger until it was almost too late.
A couple months after I took her fancy she called for me to join her for tea, a not uncommon request at the time. Thinking nothing of it, I went to her lounge and sat in my usual spot. Chatting idly with the princess, after a while I noticed that her maid was gone (flag no. 1). Then, after sitting for a while, she complained about the heat -in February mind you- and removed her shawl revealing a dress that was a bit to small and far too daring to be worn in public (flag no. 2). At this point my atrophied danger senses were finally getting around to telling my brain that something really fishy was going on.
After drinking some tea she talked about being tired and lamenter how her maid was gone. So she looked at me and, completely straight-faced, asked me to escort her to her room so she could take a nap.
I am not an idiot. I know the signs of a predator stalking their prey. I also knew that I liked my job just fine as it was, and risking it wasn’t worth a likely mediocre tryst with the princess.
So I did what and gentleman would do, and I played dumb.
“Of course, your highness. I would be more than happy to do so.”
She let out a small smile of victory, and let me lead her to her chambers. Opening the door for her, I let her in, and then closed it behind her. It took her a moment to realize that she had gone in alone, but it wasn’t long until she opened the door and saw me leaving.
“Praytell Sir Steven, why are you leaving my room? I still require assistance in preparing for my nap.” she called out through the open doorframe.
Looking back, I saw that within the fifteen seconds she was in there, she had already lost the dress and had somehow managed to drape herself in a towel.
Before I could answer, by life was saved by the entrance of the princess’ maid. Running inside, she held up a small wooden box. Panting heavily, she greeted me, and then called out to the princess. “Your highness, I have returned! Though it was difficult, I managed to find the bottled sunshine you tasked me to find.”
Opening the box, the maid pulled a small glass vial the size of a little finger from the box with a triumphant smile.
Taking advantage of the intrusion, I hastily bade good day to the two of them, and ran out of there like a mouse in a barnfire.
That wasn’t the end of it though.
Over the next couple of weeks, I found myself playing cat-and-mouse with the princess. Or I suppose that calling it cougar-and-mouse would be more apt. Some days she would ambush me in the halls, require me to join her on trips, or any other number of pursuits.
Then she claimed me to be her fiance.
That is when I knew I had to escape.
I was called to a conference with the king, and the captain of the guard one afternoon. Any time one is summoned by name to a conference with their boss and the king, is a time to worry. Steadying my nerves, I walked into the king’s office.
Bowing before the king, I immediately sprang into action.
“Sir, I promise that the fires behind the stables last night were totally and completely not my fault….” I started.
The two of them stared at each other a moment before chuckling.
“Actually Steven, this is not a disciplinary review.” The guard-captain said. “The King himself actually has a proposition for you.”
The first part was a major load off my back. The second one replaced the weight tenfold.
Nodding silently, I looked to the king expectantly.
Clearing his throat, he began to say some of the words I least wanted to hear.
“I want you to marry my daughter.”
Time froze.
“Uh, say again your highness?” I asked, hopeful that I misheard.
“Sir steven, I want you to marry my daughter. Over the past couple of weeks, she has been incessantly talking about you, and you are the first man I can recall that she has actually taken an interest in.”
Oh no.
Nonononononononononono.
Clinging onto a thread of hope, I sought to blame my job.
“But your Highness, I am but a lowly member of the castle guard. Surely there is someone better suited to her station than I for marriage.” Crossing my fingers I looked desperately at the guard-captain for support. He just smiled back at me.
“Actually, Guard-Captain Alenz and I have been talking. You will be reassigned to be her personal guard and retainer. As for the second part, you are already a Knight who has performed great deeds in this land; as such you are more than qualified to join my family.” Smiling at me like a kind old grandfather, the King knew exactly what he was doing.
By the end of the meeting, I had already begun my plan to escape.
Starting the next day, my life was hell.
---------
*who are not as great as the stories make them out to be.
**which are waaay cooler than the stories tell.
***It's like camping, but with more mortal danger. Adventures often seem to also have a strange predisposition for odd weather phenomenon and will often result in copious amounts of unseasonal rain/snow/sleet/mosquitoes/and wildfires. I cannot honestly recommend them to anyone.
**** It was her idea, not mine.
\+ If I recall, I had removed a cult of assassins or something. I don’t remember it well, as it was not too long after I had broken up with an ex and was drinking too much to remember everything going on at the time.
++ i.e. sleeping on the ground and getting rained on.
+++ Years of adventuring makes you a bit like a packrat. Over time I had grown accustomed to keeping small useful items on my person. Things like rings of communication, gemstones that will glow like a torch, pouches that are bigger on the inside than the outside; that sort of thing.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Dwayne caught his breath as he stood at the mouth of the terrible volcano, Harbinger. As he stood on the edge he looked at his target, a great tower in the center of a fiery lake with only old rope bridge leading connecting it to the outside world. Sir Dwayne knelt and said his prayers to the Gods, for he knew he must be right with them; after all, this could be his last day on Earth. There were many tales about the great blight on this land, the fearsome dragon, Puff who raided many local farms, taking plants and animals from them. While a threat, this didn't become an issue for the King until he grabbed his daughter one time while she was visiting the town during a fair. The King called on the bravest knights of the land to answer the call and return her to him but only Sir Dwayne of the Holy Order answered the call and vowed to save her. And now, with his breath returned to him, he knew his destiny was upon him.
As Sir Dwayne made his way to the bridge he kept ever vigilant, for death lurked around every corner; this he was sure of. But it was quiet, much too quiet and he feared he was walking into a trap. It was said that dragons are intelligent beasts with a cunning and sadistic nature. But no danger approached Sir Dwayne yet, as he successfully crossed the shaking bridge to arrive at the entrance of castle. Suddenly, he heard it a roar in the bowels of the castle, great and powerful. *Groawwwwr*. Sir Dwayne repeated the holy incantations to himself then bravely entered this Evil Castle.
Every step he took it felt as thought the ground was shaking as Sir Dwayne grew more and more scared of this Demon sent forth from the God of Darkness. *Groawwwwr* He knew the scriptures as well as any in the order and knew the perils facing him. *Groawwwwr* May the Goddess of wind grant him breath, and the God of War grant him strength. And with his plea to the Gods Sir Dwayne entered the great chamber to face his destiny. In front of him was a giant, green, scaly, beast; hideous and horrifying at the same time.
Sir Dwayne bellowed out to it "In the name of the Kingdom and all the gods I will slay thee and rid this world of your terrifying presence!". Just then the giant beast turned to face him and Sir Dwayne gripped his holy sword and shield closer, ready to do battle.
*Groawwwwr, Groawwwwr, GROAWWWWR, Oh... that's so much better, had some cow stuck in my throat. Anyway, what's... what's going on?*.
Sir Dwayne was shocked at the beasts knowledge of their tongue but thought he could use the parley to distract the beast as he got a better vantage point. "I am Sir Dwayne and I was sent here, great and terrible dragon, to save the princess and right the world of your crimes."
*haha, what?*.
"Your crimes filthy bea...."
*I'm gonna level with you right now, I am waaay out of it right now. Like I'm only getting bits and pieces of what your saying. Speaking of which, you wanna hit?*.
"I will not be mocked sir dragon.."
*Sir Dragon was my father, I'm Puff*
"Well, Puff, I am here to slay you for your theft of crops and cattle and t..."
*Oh, come on man, that's so fascist*
"What?"
*Nobody owns the plants and animals, it belongs to all of us. So much fighting would be over if we all learned to share the Earth, man*
"You stole from farm owners"
*Who had no claim to the land. It belongs to all of us man, plus, you know... I always get hungry when I'm like this*
"When you are like what?"
*What?!? Experiencing the world, man*
"I don't follow"
*You know, lighting one up, getting blazed, getting stoned*
"That's all you do in your free time?"
*Not all of us want to become fascist conquerers dad... i mean Dwayne*
"Forget it, Where is the princess"
*dude, forget about her. I dropped her in some random field. Total premdo... prema...*
"primadonna?"
*yeah, dude. Major buzzkill. Just trying to bark orders all the time. You ever feel stressed when you got people like that in your life?*
"Well, it's a little tiring at times, but it's my responsibility"
*dude, that's just the government trying to control you. You gotta see through the lies man*
"this is the only life I've known"
*Here, try this. It'll open your mind*
"Well, I guess one time won't hurt"
......
......
"hey man, you ever wonder if there's other worlds out there, with other creatures out there"
*Dude, all the time man* | It was love at first sight.
For her at least.
As a young squire, I used to get in trouble for listening to the romantic ballads of traveling bards instead of practicing my letters or martial arts. Stories of princesses*, dragons**, knights, and adventures*** filled my young head, and dreams of becoming the hero shaped my path to knighthood.
Of course, reality is nothing like the storybooks.
That's why I'm locked in a broom closet hiding from my Fiancée**** and praying to the thirty-five gods of harmony that she would get bored and leave before I had to piss.
It wasn't always this way.
In fact, Emerelda used to be quite fetching. Being the princess of a small country, the mystique of royalty and her apparent shyness were quite alluring to the impressionable eyes of a young man. And like many young men, I dreamed of one day doing deeds great enough to gain recognition from the king, and to get permission to date his daughter. If I had described her then, I would have likened her to pretty flowers, talked about her huge... tracts of land, and probably say her hair looked like the radiant sunset. Of course, that was before I had gotten to know her.
In any case, after attaining my knighthood, I left to adventure across the country and earn recognition in the eyes of the king. I delved dungeons, met dragons, met strange people, fought strange monsters, angered some wizards, and overall had quite the busy time. Over this period though, my dreams of the princess waned as my experiences educated me on life, love, and the pursuit of enough money to not starve.
Eventually though, I finally managed to complete a deed grand enough to garner the attention of the King^+ , and he invited me to join him as a guard in his castle. Having grown tired of adventuring^++ , I made my way back to the capital city. After a short ceremony wherein lots of people spoke too much and mistold the tales of my deeds, the king officially added me as a member of the royal guard.
So, in my new job, I spent most of my days just standing in doorways trying to look intimidating, patrolling the walls and hallways of the castle, and overall enjoying the nice and cushy life of a castle guard. Three meals a day combined with regular non-life-threatening exercise and a bed to sleep in were fantastic for my overall state of mind, though it did have a bit of a drawback. The daily routine in the castle had caused my sense of danger to weaken just enough that I was unable to detect the incoming disaster that loomed over me.
It started innocently enough, one day I was guarding the princess’ chambers, and as she was walking by, she stopped and asked what some bauble on my belt was^+++ . After hesitating a moment before I realised that she was actually talking to me, I took a glance at the item of note and told her a summarized princess-friendly version of how I came to possess it.
At this point let me note two things about the princess: first, whereas I had grown and aged well out adventuring the countryside, the sedentary lifestyle of a princess had not been so kind to her.
The radiant beauty of youth had slowly been worn down the the average attractiveness of the middle ages. Either that, or I my youthful memories misled me in how she used to look. Either way, at this point in my life, I had been involved with prettier women than she.
After all this time, she had also managed to stay single, though not through a lack of matchmaking effort on the part of her father, and had a slight propensity for taking in stray cats.
Regardless, after our small chat, she seemed to take notice of me. Small questions about various items and adventures in passing turned into having tea with her and her maid to regale them with tales of my past deeds. These interactions became more and more common, and like a frog in a pot of water on the stove, I failed to notice the signs of danger until it was almost too late.
A couple months after I took her fancy she called for me to join her for tea, a not uncommon request at the time. Thinking nothing of it, I went to her lounge and sat in my usual spot. Chatting idly with the princess, after a while I noticed that her maid was gone (flag no. 1). Then, after sitting for a while, she complained about the heat -in February mind you- and removed her shawl revealing a dress that was a bit to small and far too daring to be worn in public (flag no. 2). At this point my atrophied danger senses were finally getting around to telling my brain that something really fishy was going on.
After drinking some tea she talked about being tired and lamenter how her maid was gone. So she looked at me and, completely straight-faced, asked me to escort her to her room so she could take a nap.
I am not an idiot. I know the signs of a predator stalking their prey. I also knew that I liked my job just fine as it was, and risking it wasn’t worth a likely mediocre tryst with the princess.
So I did what and gentleman would do, and I played dumb.
“Of course, your highness. I would be more than happy to do so.”
She let out a small smile of victory, and let me lead her to her chambers. Opening the door for her, I let her in, and then closed it behind her. It took her a moment to realize that she had gone in alone, but it wasn’t long until she opened the door and saw me leaving.
“Praytell Sir Steven, why are you leaving my room? I still require assistance in preparing for my nap.” she called out through the open doorframe.
Looking back, I saw that within the fifteen seconds she was in there, she had already lost the dress and had somehow managed to drape herself in a towel.
Before I could answer, by life was saved by the entrance of the princess’ maid. Running inside, she held up a small wooden box. Panting heavily, she greeted me, and then called out to the princess. “Your highness, I have returned! Though it was difficult, I managed to find the bottled sunshine you tasked me to find.”
Opening the box, the maid pulled a small glass vial the size of a little finger from the box with a triumphant smile.
Taking advantage of the intrusion, I hastily bade good day to the two of them, and ran out of there like a mouse in a barnfire.
That wasn’t the end of it though.
Over the next couple of weeks, I found myself playing cat-and-mouse with the princess. Or I suppose that calling it cougar-and-mouse would be more apt. Some days she would ambush me in the halls, require me to join her on trips, or any other number of pursuits.
Then she claimed me to be her fiance.
That is when I knew I had to escape.
I was called to a conference with the king, and the captain of the guard one afternoon. Any time one is summoned by name to a conference with their boss and the king, is a time to worry. Steadying my nerves, I walked into the king’s office.
Bowing before the king, I immediately sprang into action.
“Sir, I promise that the fires behind the stables last night were totally and completely not my fault….” I started.
The two of them stared at each other a moment before chuckling.
“Actually Steven, this is not a disciplinary review.” The guard-captain said. “The King himself actually has a proposition for you.”
The first part was a major load off my back. The second one replaced the weight tenfold.
Nodding silently, I looked to the king expectantly.
Clearing his throat, he began to say some of the words I least wanted to hear.
“I want you to marry my daughter.”
Time froze.
“Uh, say again your highness?” I asked, hopeful that I misheard.
“Sir steven, I want you to marry my daughter. Over the past couple of weeks, she has been incessantly talking about you, and you are the first man I can recall that she has actually taken an interest in.”
Oh no.
Nonononononononononono.
Clinging onto a thread of hope, I sought to blame my job.
“But your Highness, I am but a lowly member of the castle guard. Surely there is someone better suited to her station than I for marriage.” Crossing my fingers I looked desperately at the guard-captain for support. He just smiled back at me.
“Actually, Guard-Captain Alenz and I have been talking. You will be reassigned to be her personal guard and retainer. As for the second part, you are already a Knight who has performed great deeds in this land; as such you are more than qualified to join my family.” Smiling at me like a kind old grandfather, the King knew exactly what he was doing.
By the end of the meeting, I had already begun my plan to escape.
Starting the next day, my life was hell.
---------
*who are not as great as the stories make them out to be.
**which are waaay cooler than the stories tell.
***It's like camping, but with more mortal danger. Adventures often seem to also have a strange predisposition for odd weather phenomenon and will often result in copious amounts of unseasonal rain/snow/sleet/mosquitoes/and wildfires. I cannot honestly recommend them to anyone.
**** It was her idea, not mine.
\+ If I recall, I had removed a cult of assassins or something. I don’t remember it well, as it was not too long after I had broken up with an ex and was drinking too much to remember everything going on at the time.
++ i.e. sleeping on the ground and getting rained on.
+++ Years of adventuring makes you a bit like a packrat. Over time I had grown accustomed to keeping small useful items on my person. Things like rings of communication, gemstones that will glow like a torch, pouches that are bigger on the inside than the outside; that sort of thing.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Dragons are a very important natural resource, though most mortal being have no idea of this fact. They just think we're a bunch of flying, elemental-spewing lizards that hoard gold, ravage the countryside, and devour virgins.
Flying yes, elemental spewing yes, lizards no. We dragons are decidedly not reptiles. We were here first, before the reptiles, before the mammals, and they went and stole bits out our design. The reptiles made off with our scales and decided to be silly and splay-legged and belly crawly, while the mammals decided "Hey we want to be able to nurse our young and have nice, straight legs that are good for running and sometimes even manual dexterity. Fuck the long tails and necks though, and we want to be covered in ridiculous, easily pierced fluff."
And you'd ravage the countryside too if, let's go with something comparative in size, a bunch of bunny rabbits stole everything that wasn't nailed down while you were taking a nap. You'd flush out, fill in, and set fire to every bunny burrow in hopes of getting information to getting your personal property back.
But with dragons things are on a much longer time scale, a nap can be a few months, while a good solid sleep can last a few decades, and a chronic oversleeper might stir after a century or two.
We need our nice, long naps, they're very important for the continued health of the dragon, and for the world.
See, dragons are innately magical creatures, which is why when we're slain mortals can use just about every bit of us for some magical thing or another. Arms, armor, magical potions, decorative night stands made out of skulls whose eye sockets glow with inner radiance, etc, etc.
That's because we're all basically walking, talking ley lines. We're living conduits of raw elemental power, and we bring that to the lands in which we dwell.
Of course it's not obvious to mortals because they tend to keel over dead after three centuries, tops.
They see fire elemental dragons residing in volcanoes and ice dragons living in arctic tundras and glaciers and floating icebergs and whatnot and think "Oh, the dragon must live there because it's a comfortable environment."
That is cloaca-backwards. Volcanoes spring up because there's a fire dragon living there. Places freeze over because there's been an ice dragon in residence for a century or more.
You wouldn't like a world without dragons, it would result in an utterly boring landscape created by rules of wind, erosion, elevation, and water flow. You wouldn't have interesting places like my little spot of the countryside, where my neighbors are a steamy rain-forest, a bleak salt flat, a frozen valley, some volcanic mountains, and a nasty, stinky swamp.
All this surrounds the forty mile or so diameter circle around my lair, where the land is beautiful and gorgeous filled with good soil for bountiful crops, peaceful and cute animals (like the aforementioned fluffy bunnies), and nice, sunny weather where the rain around like clockwork, and only at night so as not to bother the inhabitants.
I'm a Benedictine dragon, and I bring order and placidness into the world through my very presence.
My element is named after the Benedictine School of magic, where one uses the elements in more sedate, natural ways to accomplish things. Safe, simple, predictable, and clean.
As opposed to the Maledictine School which is messy, sometimes complex, sometimes random, moderately unsafe, and decidedly weird.
My half sister down to the south, the one in the swamp, she's a Maledictine dragon. Her breath weapon is identical to my own fire, except that hers is blue, and instead of heat it throws off cold completely in the violation of physics and thermodynamics and whatnot.
Stereotypically the two schools are labelled "Good" and "Evil" by a lot of mortals, but one's morality is decided through one's thoughts and deeds, rather than one's preferred element and method of spellcasting.
My sister, for example, is just about the most polite and well-behaved dragoness you could possibly every hope to meet. She's also terribly shy, has problems talking to new people, and generally just likes to stay in the middle of her swamp tending to her undead legions.
Umm… she also just so happens to be the dragon equivalent of a crazy cat lady, but with the undead.
She mostly has mindless zombies and skeletons, and keeps them out of trouble by tending to her gardens. She's also a cook and an alchemist, so she's got a lot of interesting plants growing.
And it's hard to do delicate works when your fingers have claws on the end and are as thick as tree branches.
Which was why I was flying out today. Something radiating quite a bit of Maledictine and Void mana had managed to wander into my nice, quiet fairy tale kingdom and needed to be shooed back into my sister's lands before it caused any troubles.
It was already causing nasty black clouds in my otherwise pristine blue sky, and seemed to be providing thunder and lightning in high amounts, but no rain.
Ugh. It was probably holed up in the old church fort that I kept around because I liked the shabby chic aesthetic of the place. But I was starting to think I'd have been better off knocking it down, as mortals seemed to think it was a castle of some sort and that the architecture was decidedly sinister enough to make it an evil lair.
Though I have to admit I'm probably somewhat to blame for that. The stones are mostly black, as I keep having to swoop by and clean the place out of bandits, cultists, slimes, and the occasional infestation of giant rats every so often, and it takes so much effort to scrub soot from my fire breath off the rocks.
So the place is dark, ruined, ominous, and a former church, so all evil-doing within is also blasphemous. Thus a magnet for all the naughty activity in my realm.
Then again I suppose if I knocked it down, they baddies would misbehave in other places, rather than popping up again and again in a nice predictable spot.
I sighed as I spread my wings to slow my descent and land in the courtyard.
I could hear the mad cackling from all the way up here. I couldn't make out the words, but from the way someone had been shouting for the past minute or so it sounded like your typical "They called me mad, MAD! But know I, Professor von Frumpensmergle, will show them! I WILL SHOW THEM ALL! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!" type speech.
They always hold up in the fort's sanctum, where some ne'er do well squatter went and put a dias on the raised altar platform to make it a proper throne room.
I'd kept it like that, since that made it pretty easy to hop in, eat the leader of the offending infestation, and resolve the whole issue.
I'd even had carpenters in to put some hinges on a suitably large section of the roof so that I could just lift it up and pop in without having to wriggle through hallways that were not sized with fully grown dragonesses in mind.
So I lifted up the roof, stuck my head in and saw the wrongest wrong thing in the history of wrong.
The mad cackling was not coming from a skinny, pale, frail wizard, a wild-haired scientist in a lab coat, or a powerful, yet still rotund leader of a band of demi-humans. But rather a young woman in a suitably fairy tale-esque pink dress. But it wasn't quite right, as the pink garment had black accents, and the princess-y vibe was utterly ruined by shiny silver gauntlets, greaves, and a breastplate, as well as scandalous shortness. The dress barely reached her knees!
The lady had a matching silver staff with a skull on top (with the requisite glowing eyes), but she also carried a sword! The noblewomen of the Meadowgrass Kingdom didn't use swords! If they had to battle they were either archers or magicians!
I shook my head at the whole sight. The young lady necromancer definitely had her clothes made around here, as the styles were right, and the craftsmanship exquisite, and the ominous details of all the skull detailing on her armor was nowhere near creepy. The skulls were happy and pleasant and cheerful.
And that meant that she was a local girl, too. No proper evil necromancer would go marching around with a general look that could only be described as "cutesy."
And she had a captive. A huge, powerful, towering man in black leather armor had a chain around his neck that had been attached to the heavy stone altar, which had been set for tea. The black knight calmly polished his monocle, sipped delicately from a cup of tea with his pinky extended and shook his head at his captor's theatrics.
"Madam, I quite understand where you're coming from, but I am quite sure that this has gone too far. Certainly a nice sit down in front of the fire with your father to discuss the matter of your matrimony would accomplish things in a far more civil fashion than abducting the ambassador of your fiance's kingdom." he said in his posh Greenspire Jungle accent.
"My father refuses, REFUSES to see reason! I am the eldest, the firstborn, and yet I am to be shipped off from paradise to your wretched land of chronic rain, mosquitoes, and misery, while my brother takes the throne!"
The knight nodded, refilling his cup from the teapot, and then pouring a second.
"One lump or sugar or two, your highness?" the knight asked politely.
"Two please." she said, accepting the cup and taking a sip before drawing in a deep breath for some more ranting.
Your highness?!
I squinted. Human faces are so tiny and difficult to make out.
"Princess Buttercup?!" I said with a gasp.
The necromancer-princess spun, dropping her cup of tea in shock (which was expertly caught by the Greenspire ambassador and placed back on the table for later consumption), staring up at me with wide eyes.
"Goldengleam!" the princess groaned, "You're going to ruin everything!" | It was the most unusual test of wills that Sir Quirel had ever experienced in all the years of his life. Sitting across from him, wearing an honest-to-goddess smoking jacket and puffing on a pipe, was a dragon trying to come up with his next move on the game situated between them.
“I’m still not quite sure I follow,” Sir Quirel muttered as he idly clinked his glove on his chest plate. He had forgotten he was wearing armor for a moment and had gone to scratch a persistent itch.
The dragon rumbled for a moment, and sent a huge cloud of smoke up through his pipe before moving a piece on the game board in front of them. He held it for a moment longer, smiled to himself, then released the piece and leaned back in his chair. “I like the game, but there is more to it if you wish to hear.”
Quirel studied the move the dragon had made, tried to scratch again, and slowly nodded. “If you please, Sir….”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” the chuckled loudly, “but there is no honor amongst dragons in the way you humans understand.”
“But you have not yet told me your name,” Quirel muttered as he tried to come up with another move. The game was the dragon’s idea, much to Quirel’s dismay. It was a children’s game, meant to test one’s ability to think ahead, plan, and execute strategies. An extraordinary level of skill was required just to get into the knighthood, and Quirel was losing; but only barely.
“I never intended to,” the dragon said with another chuckle, and a larger puff of smoke.
“But for honorable combat…”
“Over a children’s game?”
Quirel winced; so the dragon knew it was a children’s game. “Well, no…”
“Then make your move, Knight,” the dragon said as he leaned back in his chair.
At that moment a low scream could be heard coming up through the deeper parts of the surprisingly well decorated and furnished cave. The dragon smiled coolly and Quirel winced; the Princess must be in great pain. He must attempt to move this along more quickly. He moved a piece.
The dragon’s eyebrows rose for a brief moment before he chewed his pipe stem and leaned forward. He rumbled in thought before sitting back, leaving the board untouched. “The King never explained it to you then?”
“What is there to explain,” Quirel asked, confident that his move had truly perplexed the dragon. “Salvage laws—“
“’Are very specific;’ yes, yes, I know that,” the dragon muttered as he chewed his pipe. “Save the Princess, become the prince, win the rights to the kingdom, etc. However, did he ever *explain* it to you?”
“I am not sure I follow,” Quirel said as he once again attempted to scratch his side. He frowned at the sudden clink and the lack of satisfaction once again.
“Typical.” The dragon leaned forward, moved a piece, and then leaned back again. “How many times have you been married?”
Quirel frowned, “None.”
“How many times would you like your wife to have been married?”
Quirel looked up from the board, a flash of anger crossing his face, “Just what are you implying, dragon?”
The dragon took his pipe out of his mouth and held it up in his hands in mock surrender, “I am merely trying to explain the situation. I had hoped the king would, but apparently he needs it to be ‘real.’”
Quirel nodded, but kept his eyes focused on the dragon as he moved his piece, and then removed several of the dragon’s pieces. He leaned back in his chair with a smile of satisfaction. “I would hope my wife had never been married, but if she had, then it would be because her husband had died unexpectedly.”
The dragon smiled, “The game turns on your favor, Sir Quirel.” He leaned forward and mulled over the pieces for several moments before moving yet another piece, causing the balance of power to return to himself. “How many times do you think Princess Laurela has been married?”
Another scream rose up from the cave and Sir Quirel leapt to his feet, his hand on his sword. The dragon, though oozing an air of calm confidence, tensed in preparation. This was always a danger for the method he took to convince the knights to just leave. He had done this dozens of times, spending much of his free time studying strategies and intricacies of the game to get this over with as quickly as possible every time the king sent a new knight. Quirel, however, was surprisingly good, even for knighthood standards.
Quirel eyed the dragon angrily before he finally settled back down. His jaw set, and a cold concentration seemed to flow over him. He was going to actually start taking the game seriously. He stared hard at the board for several minutes before he moved another piece, and firmly set the balance of power back in his favor. He then looked hard at the dragon, “How many times?”
The dragon idly scratched before leaning forward and studying the board. “Three.”
“Three!?”
“Three,” the dragon muttered again under his breath, “Three times I have lost and the Princess has been wed. Three times I have taken her back.”
“You truly are a monster,” Quirel muttered, “If I win this game, I will not only take her, I will slit your wicked throat as well.”
The dragon smiled sadly, “As is your right, but you are not asking the important questions.” He moved a piece on the board and partially restored his powerbase, but he was on the defensive now; good.
“Which is?”
The dragon sat upright and looked hard at Quirel, “Why has the king allowed me to take her four times now? Surely after the first two times he would have doubled, or even tripled the security on her. We dragons are tough, but we are not immortal.”
Quirel sputtered for a moment, “Well that’s because…Well obviously…The king would…” After a moment he grew quiet, and then truly thoughtful.
The dragon smiled, “Exactly. Why has she been kidnapped and rescued so many times? Salvage laws are very specific.”
Quirel frowned, “Once retaken, any previous relationships are voided. The rescued must marry the rescuer.”
The dragon nodded, “Which of course led to the all sorts of lucrative business options for dragons, and women who wanted husbands,” he paused and muttered with a smile, “or men who wanted husbands.” He then waved his pipe in Quirel’s direction, “So why would the king allow three previous husbands to have their claims to the throne nullified by dragon kidnapping? And why would none of those three husbands come rescue her themselves, thus solidifying their claims on both her and the throne?”
Quirel sat back and thought, but could not come up with a satisfactory answer. He puzzled, and pondered, and scratched his head, and would have sat there longer if the dragon hadn’t muttered, “Your move.” Coming to his senses, he moved a piece idly, and then sat back again.
“Why then,” Quirel asked, “Why would the king allow it?”
Another scream rose up from the depths, this time followed by something that sounded similar to insane laughter. The dragon winced, and then frowned, “Princess Laurela is completely, and utterly, insane.”
Quirel stared, his mouth slightly agape, “What?”
With a heavy sigh, the dragon leaned back in his chair, “Princess Laurela began showing symptoms for mental instability approximately 10 years ago. She was checked over by various doctors, witch doctors, medical doctors, and alleyway doctors; all of them proclaimed her irrevocably insane. So a scheme was concocted.”
“To have her kidnapped,” Quirel muttered.
“Yes,” the dragon said. “She was kidnapped by me, thus nullifying her marriage to the current prince in a very understandable and acceptable manner. No scandal, no tabloids, just good, old-fashioned dragon kidnapping and salvage laws.”
“But you said she had been married three times,” Quirel said.
“I did, and she was,” the dragon said as he puffed on his pipe. “The king had to act devastated, and so he organized so that, every year, a knight would make an attempt at rescuing the princess. Initially the knights came in all pompous and ready to fight, but my medical bills got too high.”
“Medical bills?”
The dragon laughed, “You don’t think I do this for free, do you?” He stopped laughing and smiled, “Yes, my medical bills. Two of those times were two of her other marriages. She had to be kidnapped again, so I did, but this time the king suggested a battle of wits instead, and suggested this game. No knight would turn down the opportunity to best a dragon at a knight’s game.”
“I suppose not,” Quirel said, realizing he had been suckered from the beginning with the game.
“I lost the first match, but got better and better,” the dragon said with a smile. He leaned forward and moved a piece on the board, “But I also began making this offer after the next knight was a sore loser.”
Quirel stared in disbelief. The move the dragon had just made completely exposed his defenses, and made it so the game could be won in one move; a simple, and fair, maneuver to completely end the game. He looked at the dragon and raised an eyebrow.
The dragon smiled, “If you don’t believe me then make your move, I will concede your victory without a fight, and you can become the prince of the kingdom.” He leaned back in his chair and puffed his pipe, “Or you can forfeit the game, and return to your life as you please. I hear in Yulir there is a ‘Knights of Laurela’ men’s club that is steadily growing in membership.”
Quirel sat for a moment before reaching over and unclipping his chestplate. He took off his glove, scratched his side, and smiled, “A challenging game, and I humbly offer my surrender. There is no way I can win.”
The dragon smiled, and reached across to shake Quirel’s hand. “I have ale if you wish to try again.”
“Only if it is a gentleman’s game,” Quirel said, “No stakes; just sport.”
“Agreed.”
----------
[r/grenadiere42] | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Dwayne caught his breath as he stood at the mouth of the terrible volcano, Harbinger. As he stood on the edge he looked at his target, a great tower in the center of a fiery lake with only old rope bridge leading connecting it to the outside world. Sir Dwayne knelt and said his prayers to the Gods, for he knew he must be right with them; after all, this could be his last day on Earth. There were many tales about the great blight on this land, the fearsome dragon, Puff who raided many local farms, taking plants and animals from them. While a threat, this didn't become an issue for the King until he grabbed his daughter one time while she was visiting the town during a fair. The King called on the bravest knights of the land to answer the call and return her to him but only Sir Dwayne of the Holy Order answered the call and vowed to save her. And now, with his breath returned to him, he knew his destiny was upon him.
As Sir Dwayne made his way to the bridge he kept ever vigilant, for death lurked around every corner; this he was sure of. But it was quiet, much too quiet and he feared he was walking into a trap. It was said that dragons are intelligent beasts with a cunning and sadistic nature. But no danger approached Sir Dwayne yet, as he successfully crossed the shaking bridge to arrive at the entrance of castle. Suddenly, he heard it a roar in the bowels of the castle, great and powerful. *Groawwwwr*. Sir Dwayne repeated the holy incantations to himself then bravely entered this Evil Castle.
Every step he took it felt as thought the ground was shaking as Sir Dwayne grew more and more scared of this Demon sent forth from the God of Darkness. *Groawwwwr* He knew the scriptures as well as any in the order and knew the perils facing him. *Groawwwwr* May the Goddess of wind grant him breath, and the God of War grant him strength. And with his plea to the Gods Sir Dwayne entered the great chamber to face his destiny. In front of him was a giant, green, scaly, beast; hideous and horrifying at the same time.
Sir Dwayne bellowed out to it "In the name of the Kingdom and all the gods I will slay thee and rid this world of your terrifying presence!". Just then the giant beast turned to face him and Sir Dwayne gripped his holy sword and shield closer, ready to do battle.
*Groawwwwr, Groawwwwr, GROAWWWWR, Oh... that's so much better, had some cow stuck in my throat. Anyway, what's... what's going on?*.
Sir Dwayne was shocked at the beasts knowledge of their tongue but thought he could use the parley to distract the beast as he got a better vantage point. "I am Sir Dwayne and I was sent here, great and terrible dragon, to save the princess and right the world of your crimes."
*haha, what?*.
"Your crimes filthy bea...."
*I'm gonna level with you right now, I am waaay out of it right now. Like I'm only getting bits and pieces of what your saying. Speaking of which, you wanna hit?*.
"I will not be mocked sir dragon.."
*Sir Dragon was my father, I'm Puff*
"Well, Puff, I am here to slay you for your theft of crops and cattle and t..."
*Oh, come on man, that's so fascist*
"What?"
*Nobody owns the plants and animals, it belongs to all of us. So much fighting would be over if we all learned to share the Earth, man*
"You stole from farm owners"
*Who had no claim to the land. It belongs to all of us man, plus, you know... I always get hungry when I'm like this*
"When you are like what?"
*What?!? Experiencing the world, man*
"I don't follow"
*You know, lighting one up, getting blazed, getting stoned*
"That's all you do in your free time?"
*Not all of us want to become fascist conquerers dad... i mean Dwayne*
"Forget it, Where is the princess"
*dude, forget about her. I dropped her in some random field. Total premdo... prema...*
"primadonna?"
*yeah, dude. Major buzzkill. Just trying to bark orders all the time. You ever feel stressed when you got people like that in your life?*
"Well, it's a little tiring at times, but it's my responsibility"
*dude, that's just the government trying to control you. You gotta see through the lies man*
"this is the only life I've known"
*Here, try this. It'll open your mind*
"Well, I guess one time won't hurt"
......
......
"hey man, you ever wonder if there's other worlds out there, with other creatures out there"
*Dude, all the time man* | It was the most unusual test of wills that Sir Quirel had ever experienced in all the years of his life. Sitting across from him, wearing an honest-to-goddess smoking jacket and puffing on a pipe, was a dragon trying to come up with his next move on the game situated between them.
“I’m still not quite sure I follow,” Sir Quirel muttered as he idly clinked his glove on his chest plate. He had forgotten he was wearing armor for a moment and had gone to scratch a persistent itch.
The dragon rumbled for a moment, and sent a huge cloud of smoke up through his pipe before moving a piece on the game board in front of them. He held it for a moment longer, smiled to himself, then released the piece and leaned back in his chair. “I like the game, but there is more to it if you wish to hear.”
Quirel studied the move the dragon had made, tried to scratch again, and slowly nodded. “If you please, Sir….”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” the chuckled loudly, “but there is no honor amongst dragons in the way you humans understand.”
“But you have not yet told me your name,” Quirel muttered as he tried to come up with another move. The game was the dragon’s idea, much to Quirel’s dismay. It was a children’s game, meant to test one’s ability to think ahead, plan, and execute strategies. An extraordinary level of skill was required just to get into the knighthood, and Quirel was losing; but only barely.
“I never intended to,” the dragon said with another chuckle, and a larger puff of smoke.
“But for honorable combat…”
“Over a children’s game?”
Quirel winced; so the dragon knew it was a children’s game. “Well, no…”
“Then make your move, Knight,” the dragon said as he leaned back in his chair.
At that moment a low scream could be heard coming up through the deeper parts of the surprisingly well decorated and furnished cave. The dragon smiled coolly and Quirel winced; the Princess must be in great pain. He must attempt to move this along more quickly. He moved a piece.
The dragon’s eyebrows rose for a brief moment before he chewed his pipe stem and leaned forward. He rumbled in thought before sitting back, leaving the board untouched. “The King never explained it to you then?”
“What is there to explain,” Quirel asked, confident that his move had truly perplexed the dragon. “Salvage laws—“
“’Are very specific;’ yes, yes, I know that,” the dragon muttered as he chewed his pipe. “Save the Princess, become the prince, win the rights to the kingdom, etc. However, did he ever *explain* it to you?”
“I am not sure I follow,” Quirel said as he once again attempted to scratch his side. He frowned at the sudden clink and the lack of satisfaction once again.
“Typical.” The dragon leaned forward, moved a piece, and then leaned back again. “How many times have you been married?”
Quirel frowned, “None.”
“How many times would you like your wife to have been married?”
Quirel looked up from the board, a flash of anger crossing his face, “Just what are you implying, dragon?”
The dragon took his pipe out of his mouth and held it up in his hands in mock surrender, “I am merely trying to explain the situation. I had hoped the king would, but apparently he needs it to be ‘real.’”
Quirel nodded, but kept his eyes focused on the dragon as he moved his piece, and then removed several of the dragon’s pieces. He leaned back in his chair with a smile of satisfaction. “I would hope my wife had never been married, but if she had, then it would be because her husband had died unexpectedly.”
The dragon smiled, “The game turns on your favor, Sir Quirel.” He leaned forward and mulled over the pieces for several moments before moving yet another piece, causing the balance of power to return to himself. “How many times do you think Princess Laurela has been married?”
Another scream rose up from the cave and Sir Quirel leapt to his feet, his hand on his sword. The dragon, though oozing an air of calm confidence, tensed in preparation. This was always a danger for the method he took to convince the knights to just leave. He had done this dozens of times, spending much of his free time studying strategies and intricacies of the game to get this over with as quickly as possible every time the king sent a new knight. Quirel, however, was surprisingly good, even for knighthood standards.
Quirel eyed the dragon angrily before he finally settled back down. His jaw set, and a cold concentration seemed to flow over him. He was going to actually start taking the game seriously. He stared hard at the board for several minutes before he moved another piece, and firmly set the balance of power back in his favor. He then looked hard at the dragon, “How many times?”
The dragon idly scratched before leaning forward and studying the board. “Three.”
“Three!?”
“Three,” the dragon muttered again under his breath, “Three times I have lost and the Princess has been wed. Three times I have taken her back.”
“You truly are a monster,” Quirel muttered, “If I win this game, I will not only take her, I will slit your wicked throat as well.”
The dragon smiled sadly, “As is your right, but you are not asking the important questions.” He moved a piece on the board and partially restored his powerbase, but he was on the defensive now; good.
“Which is?”
The dragon sat upright and looked hard at Quirel, “Why has the king allowed me to take her four times now? Surely after the first two times he would have doubled, or even tripled the security on her. We dragons are tough, but we are not immortal.”
Quirel sputtered for a moment, “Well that’s because…Well obviously…The king would…” After a moment he grew quiet, and then truly thoughtful.
The dragon smiled, “Exactly. Why has she been kidnapped and rescued so many times? Salvage laws are very specific.”
Quirel frowned, “Once retaken, any previous relationships are voided. The rescued must marry the rescuer.”
The dragon nodded, “Which of course led to the all sorts of lucrative business options for dragons, and women who wanted husbands,” he paused and muttered with a smile, “or men who wanted husbands.” He then waved his pipe in Quirel’s direction, “So why would the king allow three previous husbands to have their claims to the throne nullified by dragon kidnapping? And why would none of those three husbands come rescue her themselves, thus solidifying their claims on both her and the throne?”
Quirel sat back and thought, but could not come up with a satisfactory answer. He puzzled, and pondered, and scratched his head, and would have sat there longer if the dragon hadn’t muttered, “Your move.” Coming to his senses, he moved a piece idly, and then sat back again.
“Why then,” Quirel asked, “Why would the king allow it?”
Another scream rose up from the depths, this time followed by something that sounded similar to insane laughter. The dragon winced, and then frowned, “Princess Laurela is completely, and utterly, insane.”
Quirel stared, his mouth slightly agape, “What?”
With a heavy sigh, the dragon leaned back in his chair, “Princess Laurela began showing symptoms for mental instability approximately 10 years ago. She was checked over by various doctors, witch doctors, medical doctors, and alleyway doctors; all of them proclaimed her irrevocably insane. So a scheme was concocted.”
“To have her kidnapped,” Quirel muttered.
“Yes,” the dragon said. “She was kidnapped by me, thus nullifying her marriage to the current prince in a very understandable and acceptable manner. No scandal, no tabloids, just good, old-fashioned dragon kidnapping and salvage laws.”
“But you said she had been married three times,” Quirel said.
“I did, and she was,” the dragon said as he puffed on his pipe. “The king had to act devastated, and so he organized so that, every year, a knight would make an attempt at rescuing the princess. Initially the knights came in all pompous and ready to fight, but my medical bills got too high.”
“Medical bills?”
The dragon laughed, “You don’t think I do this for free, do you?” He stopped laughing and smiled, “Yes, my medical bills. Two of those times were two of her other marriages. She had to be kidnapped again, so I did, but this time the king suggested a battle of wits instead, and suggested this game. No knight would turn down the opportunity to best a dragon at a knight’s game.”
“I suppose not,” Quirel said, realizing he had been suckered from the beginning with the game.
“I lost the first match, but got better and better,” the dragon said with a smile. He leaned forward and moved a piece on the board, “But I also began making this offer after the next knight was a sore loser.”
Quirel stared in disbelief. The move the dragon had just made completely exposed his defenses, and made it so the game could be won in one move; a simple, and fair, maneuver to completely end the game. He looked at the dragon and raised an eyebrow.
The dragon smiled, “If you don’t believe me then make your move, I will concede your victory without a fight, and you can become the prince of the kingdom.” He leaned back in his chair and puffed his pipe, “Or you can forfeit the game, and return to your life as you please. I hear in Yulir there is a ‘Knights of Laurela’ men’s club that is steadily growing in membership.”
Quirel sat for a moment before reaching over and unclipping his chestplate. He took off his glove, scratched his side, and smiled, “A challenging game, and I humbly offer my surrender. There is no way I can win.”
The dragon smiled, and reached across to shake Quirel’s hand. “I have ale if you wish to try again.”
“Only if it is a gentleman’s game,” Quirel said, “No stakes; just sport.”
“Agreed.”
----------
[r/grenadiere42] | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Dragons are a very important natural resource, though most mortal being have no idea of this fact. They just think we're a bunch of flying, elemental-spewing lizards that hoard gold, ravage the countryside, and devour virgins.
Flying yes, elemental spewing yes, lizards no. We dragons are decidedly not reptiles. We were here first, before the reptiles, before the mammals, and they went and stole bits out our design. The reptiles made off with our scales and decided to be silly and splay-legged and belly crawly, while the mammals decided "Hey we want to be able to nurse our young and have nice, straight legs that are good for running and sometimes even manual dexterity. Fuck the long tails and necks though, and we want to be covered in ridiculous, easily pierced fluff."
And you'd ravage the countryside too if, let's go with something comparative in size, a bunch of bunny rabbits stole everything that wasn't nailed down while you were taking a nap. You'd flush out, fill in, and set fire to every bunny burrow in hopes of getting information to getting your personal property back.
But with dragons things are on a much longer time scale, a nap can be a few months, while a good solid sleep can last a few decades, and a chronic oversleeper might stir after a century or two.
We need our nice, long naps, they're very important for the continued health of the dragon, and for the world.
See, dragons are innately magical creatures, which is why when we're slain mortals can use just about every bit of us for some magical thing or another. Arms, armor, magical potions, decorative night stands made out of skulls whose eye sockets glow with inner radiance, etc, etc.
That's because we're all basically walking, talking ley lines. We're living conduits of raw elemental power, and we bring that to the lands in which we dwell.
Of course it's not obvious to mortals because they tend to keel over dead after three centuries, tops.
They see fire elemental dragons residing in volcanoes and ice dragons living in arctic tundras and glaciers and floating icebergs and whatnot and think "Oh, the dragon must live there because it's a comfortable environment."
That is cloaca-backwards. Volcanoes spring up because there's a fire dragon living there. Places freeze over because there's been an ice dragon in residence for a century or more.
You wouldn't like a world without dragons, it would result in an utterly boring landscape created by rules of wind, erosion, elevation, and water flow. You wouldn't have interesting places like my little spot of the countryside, where my neighbors are a steamy rain-forest, a bleak salt flat, a frozen valley, some volcanic mountains, and a nasty, stinky swamp.
All this surrounds the forty mile or so diameter circle around my lair, where the land is beautiful and gorgeous filled with good soil for bountiful crops, peaceful and cute animals (like the aforementioned fluffy bunnies), and nice, sunny weather where the rain around like clockwork, and only at night so as not to bother the inhabitants.
I'm a Benedictine dragon, and I bring order and placidness into the world through my very presence.
My element is named after the Benedictine School of magic, where one uses the elements in more sedate, natural ways to accomplish things. Safe, simple, predictable, and clean.
As opposed to the Maledictine School which is messy, sometimes complex, sometimes random, moderately unsafe, and decidedly weird.
My half sister down to the south, the one in the swamp, she's a Maledictine dragon. Her breath weapon is identical to my own fire, except that hers is blue, and instead of heat it throws off cold completely in the violation of physics and thermodynamics and whatnot.
Stereotypically the two schools are labelled "Good" and "Evil" by a lot of mortals, but one's morality is decided through one's thoughts and deeds, rather than one's preferred element and method of spellcasting.
My sister, for example, is just about the most polite and well-behaved dragoness you could possibly every hope to meet. She's also terribly shy, has problems talking to new people, and generally just likes to stay in the middle of her swamp tending to her undead legions.
Umm… she also just so happens to be the dragon equivalent of a crazy cat lady, but with the undead.
She mostly has mindless zombies and skeletons, and keeps them out of trouble by tending to her gardens. She's also a cook and an alchemist, so she's got a lot of interesting plants growing.
And it's hard to do delicate works when your fingers have claws on the end and are as thick as tree branches.
Which was why I was flying out today. Something radiating quite a bit of Maledictine and Void mana had managed to wander into my nice, quiet fairy tale kingdom and needed to be shooed back into my sister's lands before it caused any troubles.
It was already causing nasty black clouds in my otherwise pristine blue sky, and seemed to be providing thunder and lightning in high amounts, but no rain.
Ugh. It was probably holed up in the old church fort that I kept around because I liked the shabby chic aesthetic of the place. But I was starting to think I'd have been better off knocking it down, as mortals seemed to think it was a castle of some sort and that the architecture was decidedly sinister enough to make it an evil lair.
Though I have to admit I'm probably somewhat to blame for that. The stones are mostly black, as I keep having to swoop by and clean the place out of bandits, cultists, slimes, and the occasional infestation of giant rats every so often, and it takes so much effort to scrub soot from my fire breath off the rocks.
So the place is dark, ruined, ominous, and a former church, so all evil-doing within is also blasphemous. Thus a magnet for all the naughty activity in my realm.
Then again I suppose if I knocked it down, they baddies would misbehave in other places, rather than popping up again and again in a nice predictable spot.
I sighed as I spread my wings to slow my descent and land in the courtyard.
I could hear the mad cackling from all the way up here. I couldn't make out the words, but from the way someone had been shouting for the past minute or so it sounded like your typical "They called me mad, MAD! But know I, Professor von Frumpensmergle, will show them! I WILL SHOW THEM ALL! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!" type speech.
They always hold up in the fort's sanctum, where some ne'er do well squatter went and put a dias on the raised altar platform to make it a proper throne room.
I'd kept it like that, since that made it pretty easy to hop in, eat the leader of the offending infestation, and resolve the whole issue.
I'd even had carpenters in to put some hinges on a suitably large section of the roof so that I could just lift it up and pop in without having to wriggle through hallways that were not sized with fully grown dragonesses in mind.
So I lifted up the roof, stuck my head in and saw the wrongest wrong thing in the history of wrong.
The mad cackling was not coming from a skinny, pale, frail wizard, a wild-haired scientist in a lab coat, or a powerful, yet still rotund leader of a band of demi-humans. But rather a young woman in a suitably fairy tale-esque pink dress. But it wasn't quite right, as the pink garment had black accents, and the princess-y vibe was utterly ruined by shiny silver gauntlets, greaves, and a breastplate, as well as scandalous shortness. The dress barely reached her knees!
The lady had a matching silver staff with a skull on top (with the requisite glowing eyes), but she also carried a sword! The noblewomen of the Meadowgrass Kingdom didn't use swords! If they had to battle they were either archers or magicians!
I shook my head at the whole sight. The young lady necromancer definitely had her clothes made around here, as the styles were right, and the craftsmanship exquisite, and the ominous details of all the skull detailing on her armor was nowhere near creepy. The skulls were happy and pleasant and cheerful.
And that meant that she was a local girl, too. No proper evil necromancer would go marching around with a general look that could only be described as "cutesy."
And she had a captive. A huge, powerful, towering man in black leather armor had a chain around his neck that had been attached to the heavy stone altar, which had been set for tea. The black knight calmly polished his monocle, sipped delicately from a cup of tea with his pinky extended and shook his head at his captor's theatrics.
"Madam, I quite understand where you're coming from, but I am quite sure that this has gone too far. Certainly a nice sit down in front of the fire with your father to discuss the matter of your matrimony would accomplish things in a far more civil fashion than abducting the ambassador of your fiance's kingdom." he said in his posh Greenspire Jungle accent.
"My father refuses, REFUSES to see reason! I am the eldest, the firstborn, and yet I am to be shipped off from paradise to your wretched land of chronic rain, mosquitoes, and misery, while my brother takes the throne!"
The knight nodded, refilling his cup from the teapot, and then pouring a second.
"One lump or sugar or two, your highness?" the knight asked politely.
"Two please." she said, accepting the cup and taking a sip before drawing in a deep breath for some more ranting.
Your highness?!
I squinted. Human faces are so tiny and difficult to make out.
"Princess Buttercup?!" I said with a gasp.
The necromancer-princess spun, dropping her cup of tea in shock (which was expertly caught by the Greenspire ambassador and placed back on the table for later consumption), staring up at me with wide eyes.
"Goldengleam!" the princess groaned, "You're going to ruin everything!" | Sir Barlington was by far one of the finest knights around. With all his willpower he decided to go out into the world and rescue the last remaining princess held captive by a dragon. Calcintaph, that dreadful foe, had defeated every knight who'd come before him in battle.
Sir Barlington, donning his gear and setting off on his horse, knew that Calcintaph had never faced the likes of him before.
It was a three day journey to the tower, erected on the side of a river and with two large moats around it. The knight kept the palm of his right hand clenched tight around the handle of his sword and pushed his horse forward, cutting the ropes that held the drawbridge and riding over them with ease. He found his way into the foyer of the tower rather easily and dismounted his horse, brushing back her hair to calm her.
"Stay," he whispered to her as he reached inside his clothing for an apple. The horse neighed and took it within her mouth all at once. Sir Barlington smiled and drew his sword, starting up the steps. With each step his heart pounded, so loud he was sure that the dragon would hear his blood from down below and come to find him before he could get the element of surprise.
At the top of the staircase Sir Barlington pushed against a door and stepped into a grand atrium. Against one wall there was a bed with a netted cover. He took a step forward and looked around for the dragon but it was nowhere to be seen.
"Princess," he called softly. "Princess, I have come to save you."
"Oh, sweet knight. How I have waited for this day," her voice floated from the bed. "Never in my life have I felt such security as I do in this moment, knowing that you are here to save me. Tell me you have slain him, the evil dragon that keeps me locked in this place and refuses to let me out. He has chained my hands to this bed to keep me here forever. Please come and free me. Together we can return to Adelaide and rule forever."
"Of course my lady. I will free you, not out of hope to wed you but because it is my sworn oath to protect the royal family. To not do so would be to betray my country and my king, so much that —"
There was a crash behind him and the dragon landed. It swiped at Sir Barlington with a long-nailed claw, nearly slicing through his armor as though it had been made from nothing but the leaves of flowers.
"Do not listen to that witch," the dragon said. "Years ago I took her and brought her to this tower. I chained her so that she could not use her powers on those around her. She is an evil thing, a twisted, immortal soul whose only desire is to destroy humanity. If you set her free she will drain you of your blood and use it in a sacrifice to gain enormous power that not even I can overpower."
Sir Barlington shook his head. "You trick me!" he said to the dragon. He charged, sword drawn, but the dragon easily escaped his charge.
"I do not trick you," said the dragon. "I try to save you. Other knights have come before. I'm afraid I cannot let you take her. To do so would be too dangerous. But ask the lady you see before you to draw back the curtains on her bed. I will cast a spell to reveal her true face and you will see for yourself that she is nothing but a witch. I have kept her here for centuries. She speaks to the birds that make their way into the tower - subdues them with her secrets and her lies about her origins. That is how you came to hear the story of the princess in the tower."
Sir Barlington stood. "It can't be true," he said. "Princess, tell me it isn't true."
"I swear upon my parents, upon my kingdom. It isn't true, good knight. Free me! The dragon speaks nothing but lies. Slay him and we will forever be happy."
The dragon snorted, smoke escaping its nostrils. "Tell me, good knight. Were I lying to you...were that a real princess...why not just burn you to a crisp? Perhaps you fight well, and have slayed dragons in the past. But when you entered you did not detect me. I could have crushed you like a bug. I tell you, the woman in that covering is crazy. She has lost her mind to the poison of her powers. She must stay here for eternity, or else the very world could be in peril."
The knight pointed his sword toward the dragon and then toward the princess sitting in the bed.
"Do not listen to him!" screeched the princess. "He spits lies. Nothing but lies!"
"I could have killed you," spoke the dragon. "Charred you. Burned you. Ended your life in one moment. You never would have known."
"Can you prove to me that she is a witch?" Sir Barlington asked. "Princess, can you prove to me that you are not?"
"There are three tests," the dragon spoke. Small flames escaped its lips, rising to the ceiling in great twists of orange and yellow. "But I urge you. Walk away now, dear knight. Her magic will seep into your brain. Even after the three tests, you will be destroyed. I tell you, and I tell you truthfully. I keep this witch as prisoner to protect the world. She is not a princess. Please, dear knight. Try to run me through. Take her through the three trials. You will see the way. But if you release her, I promise that earth itself will suffer as it never has before."
---
Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed it, please check out /r/Celsius232 :) | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Dwayne caught his breath as he stood at the mouth of the terrible volcano, Harbinger. As he stood on the edge he looked at his target, a great tower in the center of a fiery lake with only old rope bridge leading connecting it to the outside world. Sir Dwayne knelt and said his prayers to the Gods, for he knew he must be right with them; after all, this could be his last day on Earth. There were many tales about the great blight on this land, the fearsome dragon, Puff who raided many local farms, taking plants and animals from them. While a threat, this didn't become an issue for the King until he grabbed his daughter one time while she was visiting the town during a fair. The King called on the bravest knights of the land to answer the call and return her to him but only Sir Dwayne of the Holy Order answered the call and vowed to save her. And now, with his breath returned to him, he knew his destiny was upon him.
As Sir Dwayne made his way to the bridge he kept ever vigilant, for death lurked around every corner; this he was sure of. But it was quiet, much too quiet and he feared he was walking into a trap. It was said that dragons are intelligent beasts with a cunning and sadistic nature. But no danger approached Sir Dwayne yet, as he successfully crossed the shaking bridge to arrive at the entrance of castle. Suddenly, he heard it a roar in the bowels of the castle, great and powerful. *Groawwwwr*. Sir Dwayne repeated the holy incantations to himself then bravely entered this Evil Castle.
Every step he took it felt as thought the ground was shaking as Sir Dwayne grew more and more scared of this Demon sent forth from the God of Darkness. *Groawwwwr* He knew the scriptures as well as any in the order and knew the perils facing him. *Groawwwwr* May the Goddess of wind grant him breath, and the God of War grant him strength. And with his plea to the Gods Sir Dwayne entered the great chamber to face his destiny. In front of him was a giant, green, scaly, beast; hideous and horrifying at the same time.
Sir Dwayne bellowed out to it "In the name of the Kingdom and all the gods I will slay thee and rid this world of your terrifying presence!". Just then the giant beast turned to face him and Sir Dwayne gripped his holy sword and shield closer, ready to do battle.
*Groawwwwr, Groawwwwr, GROAWWWWR, Oh... that's so much better, had some cow stuck in my throat. Anyway, what's... what's going on?*.
Sir Dwayne was shocked at the beasts knowledge of their tongue but thought he could use the parley to distract the beast as he got a better vantage point. "I am Sir Dwayne and I was sent here, great and terrible dragon, to save the princess and right the world of your crimes."
*haha, what?*.
"Your crimes filthy bea...."
*I'm gonna level with you right now, I am waaay out of it right now. Like I'm only getting bits and pieces of what your saying. Speaking of which, you wanna hit?*.
"I will not be mocked sir dragon.."
*Sir Dragon was my father, I'm Puff*
"Well, Puff, I am here to slay you for your theft of crops and cattle and t..."
*Oh, come on man, that's so fascist*
"What?"
*Nobody owns the plants and animals, it belongs to all of us. So much fighting would be over if we all learned to share the Earth, man*
"You stole from farm owners"
*Who had no claim to the land. It belongs to all of us man, plus, you know... I always get hungry when I'm like this*
"When you are like what?"
*What?!? Experiencing the world, man*
"I don't follow"
*You know, lighting one up, getting blazed, getting stoned*
"That's all you do in your free time?"
*Not all of us want to become fascist conquerers dad... i mean Dwayne*
"Forget it, Where is the princess"
*dude, forget about her. I dropped her in some random field. Total premdo... prema...*
"primadonna?"
*yeah, dude. Major buzzkill. Just trying to bark orders all the time. You ever feel stressed when you got people like that in your life?*
"Well, it's a little tiring at times, but it's my responsibility"
*dude, that's just the government trying to control you. You gotta see through the lies man*
"this is the only life I've known"
*Here, try this. It'll open your mind*
"Well, I guess one time won't hurt"
......
......
"hey man, you ever wonder if there's other worlds out there, with other creatures out there"
*Dude, all the time man* | Sir Barlington was by far one of the finest knights around. With all his willpower he decided to go out into the world and rescue the last remaining princess held captive by a dragon. Calcintaph, that dreadful foe, had defeated every knight who'd come before him in battle.
Sir Barlington, donning his gear and setting off on his horse, knew that Calcintaph had never faced the likes of him before.
It was a three day journey to the tower, erected on the side of a river and with two large moats around it. The knight kept the palm of his right hand clenched tight around the handle of his sword and pushed his horse forward, cutting the ropes that held the drawbridge and riding over them with ease. He found his way into the foyer of the tower rather easily and dismounted his horse, brushing back her hair to calm her.
"Stay," he whispered to her as he reached inside his clothing for an apple. The horse neighed and took it within her mouth all at once. Sir Barlington smiled and drew his sword, starting up the steps. With each step his heart pounded, so loud he was sure that the dragon would hear his blood from down below and come to find him before he could get the element of surprise.
At the top of the staircase Sir Barlington pushed against a door and stepped into a grand atrium. Against one wall there was a bed with a netted cover. He took a step forward and looked around for the dragon but it was nowhere to be seen.
"Princess," he called softly. "Princess, I have come to save you."
"Oh, sweet knight. How I have waited for this day," her voice floated from the bed. "Never in my life have I felt such security as I do in this moment, knowing that you are here to save me. Tell me you have slain him, the evil dragon that keeps me locked in this place and refuses to let me out. He has chained my hands to this bed to keep me here forever. Please come and free me. Together we can return to Adelaide and rule forever."
"Of course my lady. I will free you, not out of hope to wed you but because it is my sworn oath to protect the royal family. To not do so would be to betray my country and my king, so much that —"
There was a crash behind him and the dragon landed. It swiped at Sir Barlington with a long-nailed claw, nearly slicing through his armor as though it had been made from nothing but the leaves of flowers.
"Do not listen to that witch," the dragon said. "Years ago I took her and brought her to this tower. I chained her so that she could not use her powers on those around her. She is an evil thing, a twisted, immortal soul whose only desire is to destroy humanity. If you set her free she will drain you of your blood and use it in a sacrifice to gain enormous power that not even I can overpower."
Sir Barlington shook his head. "You trick me!" he said to the dragon. He charged, sword drawn, but the dragon easily escaped his charge.
"I do not trick you," said the dragon. "I try to save you. Other knights have come before. I'm afraid I cannot let you take her. To do so would be too dangerous. But ask the lady you see before you to draw back the curtains on her bed. I will cast a spell to reveal her true face and you will see for yourself that she is nothing but a witch. I have kept her here for centuries. She speaks to the birds that make their way into the tower - subdues them with her secrets and her lies about her origins. That is how you came to hear the story of the princess in the tower."
Sir Barlington stood. "It can't be true," he said. "Princess, tell me it isn't true."
"I swear upon my parents, upon my kingdom. It isn't true, good knight. Free me! The dragon speaks nothing but lies. Slay him and we will forever be happy."
The dragon snorted, smoke escaping its nostrils. "Tell me, good knight. Were I lying to you...were that a real princess...why not just burn you to a crisp? Perhaps you fight well, and have slayed dragons in the past. But when you entered you did not detect me. I could have crushed you like a bug. I tell you, the woman in that covering is crazy. She has lost her mind to the poison of her powers. She must stay here for eternity, or else the very world could be in peril."
The knight pointed his sword toward the dragon and then toward the princess sitting in the bed.
"Do not listen to him!" screeched the princess. "He spits lies. Nothing but lies!"
"I could have killed you," spoke the dragon. "Charred you. Burned you. Ended your life in one moment. You never would have known."
"Can you prove to me that she is a witch?" Sir Barlington asked. "Princess, can you prove to me that you are not?"
"There are three tests," the dragon spoke. Small flames escaped its lips, rising to the ceiling in great twists of orange and yellow. "But I urge you. Walk away now, dear knight. Her magic will seep into your brain. Even after the three tests, you will be destroyed. I tell you, and I tell you truthfully. I keep this witch as prisoner to protect the world. She is not a princess. Please, dear knight. Try to run me through. Take her through the three trials. You will see the way. But if you release her, I promise that earth itself will suffer as it never has before."
---
Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed it, please check out /r/Celsius232 :) | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "But, but, but... we were going to see my mother tonight! You PROMISED!"
I rolled my eyes at the wall, making sure she couldn't see me, as I pulled on my codpiece.
"You knew what you were getting into when I rescued you, Belle. I'm a knight. It's my job to slay dragons. My goddamned *job*. I took an oath - to protect the kingdom from the evils of the dragons, and to always put the good of the commoners before my own plans."
I glanced sideways at Belle. She was gorgeous, even when fuming mad, but she had to understand. She just *had* to. It had been weeks since the last dragon scare. Weeks of ironing clothes on my breastplate, weeks of hunting, skinning and cooking dinner, and weeks where the only thing my blade tasted was the bloody lawn.
I'd done *everything* for her, and now, she wanted us to go to her mother's house for dinner.
But now, there was need for valiance. There was a task that could only be completed by Sir Sedwick the Wyrmslayer. A task that didn't involve unclogging the chamber pot or organizing the stable (it's my bloody stable, woman, I'll have a bloody forge and anvil in there if I bloody well want to). The Black Wyrm of the North had been spotted flying low over one of the King's fields, and Sir Sedwick must ride.
I saddled and mounted Lizardsbane, my trusty steed, all the while trying not to look back at Belle's face. I knew what I would see there. A mix of hoping I'd come back unscathed and hoping I'd get burned at least a little bit, y'know, for her inconvenience. As I mounted up and rode off, I heard her cry "Good battle, dear husband!" somewhat less than convincingly.
After an hour's ride, I came to my destination. A massive cavern at the foot of the Firebreath Mountains, with bones of heroes and sacrifices scattered about the entrance. I tied Lizardsbane up, left him with a feed bag, and ventured inside, sword held at my right hand with the confidence of a man who knows what he's doing.
"Sssssedwick," a throaty voice wheezed, the burdens of eons dripping from each exaggerated consonant. "You hhhhave commmmme, at lassssssst, and you sssssshall facccccce your fearssssssss."
Fire blazed all around, and the figure of Edxyoras, the Black Wyrm of the North, eldest of the powerful dragons of this part of the world, uncoiled itself. On its face was a smirk, the smirk of a cat that has just watched a mouse venture into its domain. In its hands were a stack of fireproof papers, each with a number and a symbol, obviously some kind of draconic hex. And he was not alone - I found myself surrounded, with six of his brethren, all obviously awaiting my arrival with malicious intent.
"The hell with my fears, Ed, she bought it. Now deal me in and get me a bloody drink."
Edit: My first WP gold! Thank you random Internet stranger! | Sir Barlington was by far one of the finest knights around. With all his willpower he decided to go out into the world and rescue the last remaining princess held captive by a dragon. Calcintaph, that dreadful foe, had defeated every knight who'd come before him in battle.
Sir Barlington, donning his gear and setting off on his horse, knew that Calcintaph had never faced the likes of him before.
It was a three day journey to the tower, erected on the side of a river and with two large moats around it. The knight kept the palm of his right hand clenched tight around the handle of his sword and pushed his horse forward, cutting the ropes that held the drawbridge and riding over them with ease. He found his way into the foyer of the tower rather easily and dismounted his horse, brushing back her hair to calm her.
"Stay," he whispered to her as he reached inside his clothing for an apple. The horse neighed and took it within her mouth all at once. Sir Barlington smiled and drew his sword, starting up the steps. With each step his heart pounded, so loud he was sure that the dragon would hear his blood from down below and come to find him before he could get the element of surprise.
At the top of the staircase Sir Barlington pushed against a door and stepped into a grand atrium. Against one wall there was a bed with a netted cover. He took a step forward and looked around for the dragon but it was nowhere to be seen.
"Princess," he called softly. "Princess, I have come to save you."
"Oh, sweet knight. How I have waited for this day," her voice floated from the bed. "Never in my life have I felt such security as I do in this moment, knowing that you are here to save me. Tell me you have slain him, the evil dragon that keeps me locked in this place and refuses to let me out. He has chained my hands to this bed to keep me here forever. Please come and free me. Together we can return to Adelaide and rule forever."
"Of course my lady. I will free you, not out of hope to wed you but because it is my sworn oath to protect the royal family. To not do so would be to betray my country and my king, so much that —"
There was a crash behind him and the dragon landed. It swiped at Sir Barlington with a long-nailed claw, nearly slicing through his armor as though it had been made from nothing but the leaves of flowers.
"Do not listen to that witch," the dragon said. "Years ago I took her and brought her to this tower. I chained her so that she could not use her powers on those around her. She is an evil thing, a twisted, immortal soul whose only desire is to destroy humanity. If you set her free she will drain you of your blood and use it in a sacrifice to gain enormous power that not even I can overpower."
Sir Barlington shook his head. "You trick me!" he said to the dragon. He charged, sword drawn, but the dragon easily escaped his charge.
"I do not trick you," said the dragon. "I try to save you. Other knights have come before. I'm afraid I cannot let you take her. To do so would be too dangerous. But ask the lady you see before you to draw back the curtains on her bed. I will cast a spell to reveal her true face and you will see for yourself that she is nothing but a witch. I have kept her here for centuries. She speaks to the birds that make their way into the tower - subdues them with her secrets and her lies about her origins. That is how you came to hear the story of the princess in the tower."
Sir Barlington stood. "It can't be true," he said. "Princess, tell me it isn't true."
"I swear upon my parents, upon my kingdom. It isn't true, good knight. Free me! The dragon speaks nothing but lies. Slay him and we will forever be happy."
The dragon snorted, smoke escaping its nostrils. "Tell me, good knight. Were I lying to you...were that a real princess...why not just burn you to a crisp? Perhaps you fight well, and have slayed dragons in the past. But when you entered you did not detect me. I could have crushed you like a bug. I tell you, the woman in that covering is crazy. She has lost her mind to the poison of her powers. She must stay here for eternity, or else the very world could be in peril."
The knight pointed his sword toward the dragon and then toward the princess sitting in the bed.
"Do not listen to him!" screeched the princess. "He spits lies. Nothing but lies!"
"I could have killed you," spoke the dragon. "Charred you. Burned you. Ended your life in one moment. You never would have known."
"Can you prove to me that she is a witch?" Sir Barlington asked. "Princess, can you prove to me that you are not?"
"There are three tests," the dragon spoke. Small flames escaped its lips, rising to the ceiling in great twists of orange and yellow. "But I urge you. Walk away now, dear knight. Her magic will seep into your brain. Even after the three tests, you will be destroyed. I tell you, and I tell you truthfully. I keep this witch as prisoner to protect the world. She is not a princess. Please, dear knight. Try to run me through. Take her through the three trials. You will see the way. But if you release her, I promise that earth itself will suffer as it never has before."
---
Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed it, please check out /r/Celsius232 :) | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Dragons are a very important natural resource, though most mortal being have no idea of this fact. They just think we're a bunch of flying, elemental-spewing lizards that hoard gold, ravage the countryside, and devour virgins.
Flying yes, elemental spewing yes, lizards no. We dragons are decidedly not reptiles. We were here first, before the reptiles, before the mammals, and they went and stole bits out our design. The reptiles made off with our scales and decided to be silly and splay-legged and belly crawly, while the mammals decided "Hey we want to be able to nurse our young and have nice, straight legs that are good for running and sometimes even manual dexterity. Fuck the long tails and necks though, and we want to be covered in ridiculous, easily pierced fluff."
And you'd ravage the countryside too if, let's go with something comparative in size, a bunch of bunny rabbits stole everything that wasn't nailed down while you were taking a nap. You'd flush out, fill in, and set fire to every bunny burrow in hopes of getting information to getting your personal property back.
But with dragons things are on a much longer time scale, a nap can be a few months, while a good solid sleep can last a few decades, and a chronic oversleeper might stir after a century or two.
We need our nice, long naps, they're very important for the continued health of the dragon, and for the world.
See, dragons are innately magical creatures, which is why when we're slain mortals can use just about every bit of us for some magical thing or another. Arms, armor, magical potions, decorative night stands made out of skulls whose eye sockets glow with inner radiance, etc, etc.
That's because we're all basically walking, talking ley lines. We're living conduits of raw elemental power, and we bring that to the lands in which we dwell.
Of course it's not obvious to mortals because they tend to keel over dead after three centuries, tops.
They see fire elemental dragons residing in volcanoes and ice dragons living in arctic tundras and glaciers and floating icebergs and whatnot and think "Oh, the dragon must live there because it's a comfortable environment."
That is cloaca-backwards. Volcanoes spring up because there's a fire dragon living there. Places freeze over because there's been an ice dragon in residence for a century or more.
You wouldn't like a world without dragons, it would result in an utterly boring landscape created by rules of wind, erosion, elevation, and water flow. You wouldn't have interesting places like my little spot of the countryside, where my neighbors are a steamy rain-forest, a bleak salt flat, a frozen valley, some volcanic mountains, and a nasty, stinky swamp.
All this surrounds the forty mile or so diameter circle around my lair, where the land is beautiful and gorgeous filled with good soil for bountiful crops, peaceful and cute animals (like the aforementioned fluffy bunnies), and nice, sunny weather where the rain around like clockwork, and only at night so as not to bother the inhabitants.
I'm a Benedictine dragon, and I bring order and placidness into the world through my very presence.
My element is named after the Benedictine School of magic, where one uses the elements in more sedate, natural ways to accomplish things. Safe, simple, predictable, and clean.
As opposed to the Maledictine School which is messy, sometimes complex, sometimes random, moderately unsafe, and decidedly weird.
My half sister down to the south, the one in the swamp, she's a Maledictine dragon. Her breath weapon is identical to my own fire, except that hers is blue, and instead of heat it throws off cold completely in the violation of physics and thermodynamics and whatnot.
Stereotypically the two schools are labelled "Good" and "Evil" by a lot of mortals, but one's morality is decided through one's thoughts and deeds, rather than one's preferred element and method of spellcasting.
My sister, for example, is just about the most polite and well-behaved dragoness you could possibly every hope to meet. She's also terribly shy, has problems talking to new people, and generally just likes to stay in the middle of her swamp tending to her undead legions.
Umm… she also just so happens to be the dragon equivalent of a crazy cat lady, but with the undead.
She mostly has mindless zombies and skeletons, and keeps them out of trouble by tending to her gardens. She's also a cook and an alchemist, so she's got a lot of interesting plants growing.
And it's hard to do delicate works when your fingers have claws on the end and are as thick as tree branches.
Which was why I was flying out today. Something radiating quite a bit of Maledictine and Void mana had managed to wander into my nice, quiet fairy tale kingdom and needed to be shooed back into my sister's lands before it caused any troubles.
It was already causing nasty black clouds in my otherwise pristine blue sky, and seemed to be providing thunder and lightning in high amounts, but no rain.
Ugh. It was probably holed up in the old church fort that I kept around because I liked the shabby chic aesthetic of the place. But I was starting to think I'd have been better off knocking it down, as mortals seemed to think it was a castle of some sort and that the architecture was decidedly sinister enough to make it an evil lair.
Though I have to admit I'm probably somewhat to blame for that. The stones are mostly black, as I keep having to swoop by and clean the place out of bandits, cultists, slimes, and the occasional infestation of giant rats every so often, and it takes so much effort to scrub soot from my fire breath off the rocks.
So the place is dark, ruined, ominous, and a former church, so all evil-doing within is also blasphemous. Thus a magnet for all the naughty activity in my realm.
Then again I suppose if I knocked it down, they baddies would misbehave in other places, rather than popping up again and again in a nice predictable spot.
I sighed as I spread my wings to slow my descent and land in the courtyard.
I could hear the mad cackling from all the way up here. I couldn't make out the words, but from the way someone had been shouting for the past minute or so it sounded like your typical "They called me mad, MAD! But know I, Professor von Frumpensmergle, will show them! I WILL SHOW THEM ALL! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!" type speech.
They always hold up in the fort's sanctum, where some ne'er do well squatter went and put a dias on the raised altar platform to make it a proper throne room.
I'd kept it like that, since that made it pretty easy to hop in, eat the leader of the offending infestation, and resolve the whole issue.
I'd even had carpenters in to put some hinges on a suitably large section of the roof so that I could just lift it up and pop in without having to wriggle through hallways that were not sized with fully grown dragonesses in mind.
So I lifted up the roof, stuck my head in and saw the wrongest wrong thing in the history of wrong.
The mad cackling was not coming from a skinny, pale, frail wizard, a wild-haired scientist in a lab coat, or a powerful, yet still rotund leader of a band of demi-humans. But rather a young woman in a suitably fairy tale-esque pink dress. But it wasn't quite right, as the pink garment had black accents, and the princess-y vibe was utterly ruined by shiny silver gauntlets, greaves, and a breastplate, as well as scandalous shortness. The dress barely reached her knees!
The lady had a matching silver staff with a skull on top (with the requisite glowing eyes), but she also carried a sword! The noblewomen of the Meadowgrass Kingdom didn't use swords! If they had to battle they were either archers or magicians!
I shook my head at the whole sight. The young lady necromancer definitely had her clothes made around here, as the styles were right, and the craftsmanship exquisite, and the ominous details of all the skull detailing on her armor was nowhere near creepy. The skulls were happy and pleasant and cheerful.
And that meant that she was a local girl, too. No proper evil necromancer would go marching around with a general look that could only be described as "cutesy."
And she had a captive. A huge, powerful, towering man in black leather armor had a chain around his neck that had been attached to the heavy stone altar, which had been set for tea. The black knight calmly polished his monocle, sipped delicately from a cup of tea with his pinky extended and shook his head at his captor's theatrics.
"Madam, I quite understand where you're coming from, but I am quite sure that this has gone too far. Certainly a nice sit down in front of the fire with your father to discuss the matter of your matrimony would accomplish things in a far more civil fashion than abducting the ambassador of your fiance's kingdom." he said in his posh Greenspire Jungle accent.
"My father refuses, REFUSES to see reason! I am the eldest, the firstborn, and yet I am to be shipped off from paradise to your wretched land of chronic rain, mosquitoes, and misery, while my brother takes the throne!"
The knight nodded, refilling his cup from the teapot, and then pouring a second.
"One lump or sugar or two, your highness?" the knight asked politely.
"Two please." she said, accepting the cup and taking a sip before drawing in a deep breath for some more ranting.
Your highness?!
I squinted. Human faces are so tiny and difficult to make out.
"Princess Buttercup?!" I said with a gasp.
The necromancer-princess spun, dropping her cup of tea in shock (which was expertly caught by the Greenspire ambassador and placed back on the table for later consumption), staring up at me with wide eyes.
"Goldengleam!" the princess groaned, "You're going to ruin everything!" | How I miss you. Every light needs a shadow, every yin a yang. There’s so little joy in drawing forth their screams of agony when it’s so easy. Gold is meaningless when it’s not drenched in the blood of oneself and a worthy opponent.
 
I immolate the villages you used to guard so zealously. The edifices of man pass so quickly into oblivion when none will stand to guard them. I grow weary of torturing these peasants. Their fear is unsatisfactory. They understand little and do even less.
 
Wherefore have you deserted me nemesis? I wonder if you too yearn for our shared suffering. Surely one such as you cannot be satisfied with a life of peace. We are not so different. Destruction is only a joy when it is earned. Would you have me believe that peace is otherwise?
 
You have not yet earned peace and I have not yet earned victory. Your foreign little princess has stolen you away and in doing so denied you the one thing you truly need. I am going to rescue you, my knight.
----------------
 
[Check out my subreddit!](https://www.reddit.com/r/herd_of_birds)
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Dwayne caught his breath as he stood at the mouth of the terrible volcano, Harbinger. As he stood on the edge he looked at his target, a great tower in the center of a fiery lake with only old rope bridge leading connecting it to the outside world. Sir Dwayne knelt and said his prayers to the Gods, for he knew he must be right with them; after all, this could be his last day on Earth. There were many tales about the great blight on this land, the fearsome dragon, Puff who raided many local farms, taking plants and animals from them. While a threat, this didn't become an issue for the King until he grabbed his daughter one time while she was visiting the town during a fair. The King called on the bravest knights of the land to answer the call and return her to him but only Sir Dwayne of the Holy Order answered the call and vowed to save her. And now, with his breath returned to him, he knew his destiny was upon him.
As Sir Dwayne made his way to the bridge he kept ever vigilant, for death lurked around every corner; this he was sure of. But it was quiet, much too quiet and he feared he was walking into a trap. It was said that dragons are intelligent beasts with a cunning and sadistic nature. But no danger approached Sir Dwayne yet, as he successfully crossed the shaking bridge to arrive at the entrance of castle. Suddenly, he heard it a roar in the bowels of the castle, great and powerful. *Groawwwwr*. Sir Dwayne repeated the holy incantations to himself then bravely entered this Evil Castle.
Every step he took it felt as thought the ground was shaking as Sir Dwayne grew more and more scared of this Demon sent forth from the God of Darkness. *Groawwwwr* He knew the scriptures as well as any in the order and knew the perils facing him. *Groawwwwr* May the Goddess of wind grant him breath, and the God of War grant him strength. And with his plea to the Gods Sir Dwayne entered the great chamber to face his destiny. In front of him was a giant, green, scaly, beast; hideous and horrifying at the same time.
Sir Dwayne bellowed out to it "In the name of the Kingdom and all the gods I will slay thee and rid this world of your terrifying presence!". Just then the giant beast turned to face him and Sir Dwayne gripped his holy sword and shield closer, ready to do battle.
*Groawwwwr, Groawwwwr, GROAWWWWR, Oh... that's so much better, had some cow stuck in my throat. Anyway, what's... what's going on?*.
Sir Dwayne was shocked at the beasts knowledge of their tongue but thought he could use the parley to distract the beast as he got a better vantage point. "I am Sir Dwayne and I was sent here, great and terrible dragon, to save the princess and right the world of your crimes."
*haha, what?*.
"Your crimes filthy bea...."
*I'm gonna level with you right now, I am waaay out of it right now. Like I'm only getting bits and pieces of what your saying. Speaking of which, you wanna hit?*.
"I will not be mocked sir dragon.."
*Sir Dragon was my father, I'm Puff*
"Well, Puff, I am here to slay you for your theft of crops and cattle and t..."
*Oh, come on man, that's so fascist*
"What?"
*Nobody owns the plants and animals, it belongs to all of us. So much fighting would be over if we all learned to share the Earth, man*
"You stole from farm owners"
*Who had no claim to the land. It belongs to all of us man, plus, you know... I always get hungry when I'm like this*
"When you are like what?"
*What?!? Experiencing the world, man*
"I don't follow"
*You know, lighting one up, getting blazed, getting stoned*
"That's all you do in your free time?"
*Not all of us want to become fascist conquerers dad... i mean Dwayne*
"Forget it, Where is the princess"
*dude, forget about her. I dropped her in some random field. Total premdo... prema...*
"primadonna?"
*yeah, dude. Major buzzkill. Just trying to bark orders all the time. You ever feel stressed when you got people like that in your life?*
"Well, it's a little tiring at times, but it's my responsibility"
*dude, that's just the government trying to control you. You gotta see through the lies man*
"this is the only life I've known"
*Here, try this. It'll open your mind*
"Well, I guess one time won't hurt"
......
......
"hey man, you ever wonder if there's other worlds out there, with other creatures out there"
*Dude, all the time man* | How I miss you. Every light needs a shadow, every yin a yang. There’s so little joy in drawing forth their screams of agony when it’s so easy. Gold is meaningless when it’s not drenched in the blood of oneself and a worthy opponent.
 
I immolate the villages you used to guard so zealously. The edifices of man pass so quickly into oblivion when none will stand to guard them. I grow weary of torturing these peasants. Their fear is unsatisfactory. They understand little and do even less.
 
Wherefore have you deserted me nemesis? I wonder if you too yearn for our shared suffering. Surely one such as you cannot be satisfied with a life of peace. We are not so different. Destruction is only a joy when it is earned. Would you have me believe that peace is otherwise?
 
You have not yet earned peace and I have not yet earned victory. Your foreign little princess has stolen you away and in doing so denied you the one thing you truly need. I am going to rescue you, my knight.
----------------
 
[Check out my subreddit!](https://www.reddit.com/r/herd_of_birds)
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "But, but, but... we were going to see my mother tonight! You PROMISED!"
I rolled my eyes at the wall, making sure she couldn't see me, as I pulled on my codpiece.
"You knew what you were getting into when I rescued you, Belle. I'm a knight. It's my job to slay dragons. My goddamned *job*. I took an oath - to protect the kingdom from the evils of the dragons, and to always put the good of the commoners before my own plans."
I glanced sideways at Belle. She was gorgeous, even when fuming mad, but she had to understand. She just *had* to. It had been weeks since the last dragon scare. Weeks of ironing clothes on my breastplate, weeks of hunting, skinning and cooking dinner, and weeks where the only thing my blade tasted was the bloody lawn.
I'd done *everything* for her, and now, she wanted us to go to her mother's house for dinner.
But now, there was need for valiance. There was a task that could only be completed by Sir Sedwick the Wyrmslayer. A task that didn't involve unclogging the chamber pot or organizing the stable (it's my bloody stable, woman, I'll have a bloody forge and anvil in there if I bloody well want to). The Black Wyrm of the North had been spotted flying low over one of the King's fields, and Sir Sedwick must ride.
I saddled and mounted Lizardsbane, my trusty steed, all the while trying not to look back at Belle's face. I knew what I would see there. A mix of hoping I'd come back unscathed and hoping I'd get burned at least a little bit, y'know, for her inconvenience. As I mounted up and rode off, I heard her cry "Good battle, dear husband!" somewhat less than convincingly.
After an hour's ride, I came to my destination. A massive cavern at the foot of the Firebreath Mountains, with bones of heroes and sacrifices scattered about the entrance. I tied Lizardsbane up, left him with a feed bag, and ventured inside, sword held at my right hand with the confidence of a man who knows what he's doing.
"Sssssedwick," a throaty voice wheezed, the burdens of eons dripping from each exaggerated consonant. "You hhhhave commmmme, at lassssssst, and you sssssshall facccccce your fearssssssss."
Fire blazed all around, and the figure of Edxyoras, the Black Wyrm of the North, eldest of the powerful dragons of this part of the world, uncoiled itself. On its face was a smirk, the smirk of a cat that has just watched a mouse venture into its domain. In its hands were a stack of fireproof papers, each with a number and a symbol, obviously some kind of draconic hex. And he was not alone - I found myself surrounded, with six of his brethren, all obviously awaiting my arrival with malicious intent.
"The hell with my fears, Ed, she bought it. Now deal me in and get me a bloody drink."
Edit: My first WP gold! Thank you random Internet stranger! | How I miss you. Every light needs a shadow, every yin a yang. There’s so little joy in drawing forth their screams of agony when it’s so easy. Gold is meaningless when it’s not drenched in the blood of oneself and a worthy opponent.
 
I immolate the villages you used to guard so zealously. The edifices of man pass so quickly into oblivion when none will stand to guard them. I grow weary of torturing these peasants. Their fear is unsatisfactory. They understand little and do even less.
 
Wherefore have you deserted me nemesis? I wonder if you too yearn for our shared suffering. Surely one such as you cannot be satisfied with a life of peace. We are not so different. Destruction is only a joy when it is earned. Would you have me believe that peace is otherwise?
 
You have not yet earned peace and I have not yet earned victory. Your foreign little princess has stolen you away and in doing so denied you the one thing you truly need. I am going to rescue you, my knight.
----------------
 
[Check out my subreddit!](https://www.reddit.com/r/herd_of_birds)
| |
[WP] WritingPrompts are now sponsored by product placements, and your romantic short story has tons of them. | The moon was high in the sky. The night air was cool and the stars twinkled above a pair of lovers standing on the pier.
"Johnny," she said as the scent of Old Spice Body Wash filled her senses, "Do you really love me?"
Without hesitation, Johnny cracked a grin, revealing his teeth, white from using Colgate 3D Whitening toothpaste, said, "You know there's no other girl for me Claudia."
Johnny could feel the soft material of Claudia's Abercrombie and Fitch cashmere shirt as he wrapped his arms around her. Claudia had never been more beautiful than tonight. She had just gotten Maybelline Dream foundation and Long Wear liquid eye liner. She was perfect.
Claudia, stepping back from Johnny, said "Would you like a snack? How about some Goldfish? The snack that smiles back."
These were Johnny's favorite. And the only thing better than Goldfish crackers was an ice cold Pepsi. Bold. Refreshing. Robust.
As Claudia turned away to get the snacks and drinks, Johnny fiddled with a small box in his pocket. "Tonight's the night," he thought.
Upon Claudia's return, Johnny dropped to one knee and presented the box. "Will you marry me?"
Stunned, the only thing Claudia could muster was, "You went to Jared's." | The wicked warlock bellowed victoriously as he stood over the knight in shining armor. The shine was due to FW1's brand new waterless wax and wash. The knight gazed at the evil villain; showing off a baby smooth face thanks to the new heavy duty Gilette razor capable of presenting the most deepest of shaves.
The knight managed to say, "you will never get away with th- these prices." The warlock mockingly laughed and replied, "you peasant! The new 2016 Hyundai Sonata is now leasable for the small price of $116 dollars a month! No down payment!"
The knight spit bloodless spit, thanks to the new Colgate anti gingivitis formula, and watched helplessly as the warlock began to laugh again. The smell of his Brute aftershave clogged the Knights nose with an aroma of goodness.
" You forgot one thing!" The knight yelled as he arose to his feet. "For the unbeatable price of six payments of 19.95, I am a proud owner of the entire Chia Pet collection! Sold separately in stores."
The warlock clenched his heart and began to wither away. "With prices like that... Your a mad man!" The warlock said slowly fading from existence.
"Did I also mention this weekend you get 10% bonus Riot Points with every purchase?" The knight said causing the warlock to explode.
The End
Act now and and recieve an original copy of this short story for the measly payment of 19.95. Act within the next ten minutes and get free shipping with Amazon Prime! | |
[WP] An alien court system picks jury members by warping in randomly selected intelligent lifeforms from throughout the galaxy. You've just been selected to witness the trial of an alleged alien murder. | "Stop the nitpicking, Jack", my boss said.
"These servers are two millimeters too wide for our racks. They won't fit.
That's not nitpicking, that's physics," I said.
"We can provide you with racks as well," the salesman tried to interject.
His name had dropped from my mind the second I've seen the specs of his
offers. Outdated, overpriced, and on top of that: non-standard.
"Yeah," I said. "And their mountings are two millimeters off as well. Boss, if
you fall for his bullshit, you spend half a million on old hardware and
another twenty thousand on the installation."
"Jack!"
"What? You wanted my opinion. If you wanted somebody decorative you should
have brought ..."
There was a blinding flash of light and instead of sitting between a
pissed-off boss and a huckster I stood between two burly ... things.
"Who the bleep are you?" I asked the person on my right.
The being had a head with two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and two ears. The body
had two arms and two legs. That's where the similarities with a human being
ended. The head was the size of my fist, the eyes sat on stalks. So did the
mouth. The nose was kind of an elephant's trunk, but only as thick as a
finger.
Their skin was of an fluorescent light blue that hurt my eyes more than their
shape, but not as much as their neon-pink uniforms.
"We are bailiffs of the court", the being said. "And you have been selected
for jury duty. Follow us to the box."
"Errrm, no," I said. "I'm most certainly not. You'll return me to my planet.
Who do you think you are to abduct me?"
"We are the Bailiffs of the Court," the being on my left intoned. This time, I
could hear the capitalization.
A second later, they grabbed me under the arms and dragged me towards a desk
that sat at the edge of the huge room. Apparently, I had arrived in a
marble-decked hall. There were thick columns on either side. In front of me
was said desk and a pair of wooden doors.
"I'm the Chief Bailiff," the being behind the desk said. "You, as an
intelligent being, have been selected for jury duty. In accordance to the
protocol, you have been teleported to the Great Hall of Universal Justice to
serve as a juror. No objection is possible. Your ... "
"What if I try to object?", I asked.
"The bailiffs will ensure your compliance, even if it kills you. In that case,
the bailiffs will resuscitate you. As I was about to say: Your mind has been
treated with the usual anti-confusion field and the Universal Translator has
been updated to your language."
The bailiffs dragged me through the doors and into the set of Perry Mason,
just up-scaled by a factor ten. Apparently, I was the last juror to be
selected. Everybody looked at me when the Bailiffs pushed me down on a
moderately comfortable seat.
"The proceedings begin!", another blue stalk-eyed being intoned.
The judge, an octopus with oversized bat wings, flopped down
on the bench. A pale-red goat rose from his seat. A display floating above him
read 'prosecutor'.
Four stalk-eyes brought a shackled stick insect. The defendant, I was informed
by another floating display. The insect was followed by a wheel of about two
meters diameter. The defender rolled behind the table and faced the judge with
his flat side.
"Case number 912787213459," read the bailiff. "Gurshun has murdered Pahulul."
"How do you decide?" the judge asked the jury. A sign appeared, indicating to
raise one of the two items in front of me: an orb for guilty, a feather for
innocent.
All of my fellow jurors raised the orb.
"Jack Freeman of Earth, how do you decide?"
"No idea, your honor," I said. "How about you show me some evidence?
"We have already inspected the Then-And-There machine," the prosecutor said.
"It shows Gurshun killed Pahulul."
"May I see for myself, you honor?"
The judge waved a wing towards the bailiff. A huge flat-screen
TV was wheeled into the room. After the bailiff fiddled with the knobs, it
played a grainy video of one stick insect hacking another one apart
with a comically huge sword.
"Defendant, is that you?" the judge asked.
"Yes, your honor", the insect said. "But I didn't kill Pahululy."
"Jury, how do you decide after seeing the evidence?"
I left the orb where it was.
"More questions, Jack Freeman?"
"Yes, your honor."
"Go ahead. Somebody wake me when you're done," he said and wrapped himself in
his wings.
"OK, Gurshun," I said. "Who is this Pahulul?"
"Pahulul is my best friend. We hatched next to each other, only seconds apart. I
would never hurt him!"
"So, you say this piece of infallible high-tech lies?" I pointed to the
There-and-Then machine. A display explained the machine provided a window to
any place in the known universe, at any time in the past.
"Yes, honored juror. The machine is wrong."
I had the same weird feeling I got when reading the server brochure, not more
than an hour ago and a few billion light years away.
"Bailiff, teleport Pahulul into the court," I said.
The judge snapped upright. His wings produced a strong puff of air. "That's
standard procedure. The teleporter didn't bring the victim here which means
the victim is dead."
"OK, show me Pahulul on the There-and-Then machine," I demanded. "Gurshun, where
would Pahulul be now, if he's not dead?"
The insect was silent. It stared at me with its faceted eyes and said nothing.
Sheesh, aliens. Their head is on the block and they keep quiet. On the other
hand, every alien so far had more or less acted like a human would. Assuming the
insect did too, why would he keep quiet? Could he protect somebody?
"Can you show me what happened after the victim was supposedly killed?" I
asked the judge.
"Running the There-and-Then machine is costly," he reminded.
"Then run in fast-forward mode," I said.
"Noo," came a tortured yell from Gurshun. My suspicion was confirmed
immediately.
The judge seemed to think so as well. The bailiff set the machine in motion
and we all observed how the stick insect put down the sword. The motions
became faster and faster when the bailiff adjusted the controls.
On the screen, one insect dragged half of the other into a box. He put a lid
on it and an address label as I was informed by another floating display. Then
he dragged the box to a waiting robot that carried it away. He repeated the
procedure with the other half of the dead insect. Then, he sat down and
waited. The police arrived and arrested him.
None of this made sense, unless ...
"Where are the boxes now? Can we take a look at one of them?"
The judge made some chirping noises that the Universal Translator could not or
didn't want to interpret. With a flap of his wing, he instructed the bailiff
to do as I requested.
A second later, the box was shown on screen. It sat on a lush green pasture
between a few trees. Nobody was to be seen. The lid of the box had been broken
open. I'd bet a year's salary that it had been broken open from the inside.
"And now the other, please."
The box stood in the mail room of a sales company on the same planet as the
other. Apparently, it was after hours as nobody was there. The lid had been
broken open too. That all but confirmed my suspicion.
"Thank you, your honor. We can stop the machine. Gurshun, just one question.
If I hacked one of you guys apart, do the halves regrow?"
The insect looked shocked. That was all the confirmation, I needed.
"I'm decided, your honor," I said and raised the feather.
"What? How?", the judge stuttered. "Explain, Earthling!"
"Gurshun cut his best buddy in half, well knowing that the two parts would
regrow. Pahulul is not dead. He is so not dead that there are two of him right
now: one on the meadow, one in the mail room."
"Is that true," the judge droned and flapped his wings. He hovered above the
insect like an angel of death. "Did you violate the most sacred of laws? Did
you duplicate a sentient being?"
"Yes, Sir," the insect meekly. "I had to. Pahulul was always so stressed-out. He
could not meet his sales quota regardless how many companies he visited. He
needed some time off. I ..."
"Silence," the judge thundered. "Bailiffs, take him away for incineration.
The jury is dismissed."
The judge landed gracefully behind the bench and waved with a wing in my
direction. The two bailiffs brought me to him.
"Earthling. Jack Freeman. You are the pride of your species. If all of your
people are this attentive and intelligent, they will be a great addition to
the juries of the future."
He went on to praise me and my contribution to this case. All I wanted was to
go home. It had been a long day. There was just one thing I needed to know.
"If you burn the buy because he cloned his best friend, what would you have
done if he really had killed him?"
"Psychiatric ward until declared healthy", the judge said.
"I don't get it. Why you would kill somebody for creating new life, but treat
a murder like a mental illness?"
"Do you believe in souls? Does your planet have this concept?"
"I, personally, don't believe in them. But yes, we have this concept."
"Then tell me, Jack, if a person with is duplicated, what happens to their
soul? What happened to Pahulul's soul? Was it halved? Did it regrow like his
body?"
"No idea. Could be either of those things."
"Yes, nobody knows," the judge said. "But nothing good could come out of that
situation, right?"
"Hmm," I said. Something was off. This time, it took me a second to
understand. If I was right, it would explain why the teleporter and the
There-and-Then machine had failed to prove that Pahulul was live.
"Let me guess, you use the 'soul' to identify people. Kind of a fingerprint on
my planet. A feature, unique for each person. So, if somebody is duplicated,
you don't know which one to teleport or, for that matter, to put on trial."
A blinding flash returned me to earth without an answer. | I was on the train to work when my watch vibrated, alerting me that I had a message. Probably my boss, wondering where Alice was (at home, with her newborn) or if I could include something ridiculous in this week's newsletter (hopefully just something small, a humanizing personal comment). It took me three attempts to convince myself that I wasn't hallucinating when I put on my glasses and checked my mail. A round trip ticket to CQ0393, better known as Blue Eden. Five years of compensation for travel time. I felt tears in my eyes, but it wasn't until I got to the last line that I jumped out of my seat and started hugging strangers. PLEASE JOIN US on BLUE EDEN as a GUEST JUDGE for the hit show STARS OF THE UNIVERSE.
The small print was a blur. All that I caught was the bold letters, things like AS SOON AS POSSIBLE and YOUR WARDROBE WILL BE PROVIDED.
The temptation to get off at my stop and throw my briefcase through the office window was strong, but knowing that the train I was on would loop around to North Dakota Intersystem Starport within the hour kept me onboard. One hour and I'd be prepping. How soon would I be waking up on the planet? Five years from now, sure, but would it feel like today or tomorrow? Would they provide the full week recovery treatment or just a few days? Either way, with all that technology and the pampering that came after, I would probably feel years younger. I already felt like a little kid again! And after that, a celebrity stylist and a whole new wardrobe. Clothes that we won't have on Earth for at least a decade, and that I'd be able to afford only if I sold some organs. And after all that... I couldn't even imagine what it would be like judging the show. I always thought I would be the nasty one, the one who only gave out four or five stars during the whole season. But the way I was feeling, I could be the small-planet girl, the sweet one. Which would get me a spinoff?
The hour passed by too quickly. By the time I'd called my parents and closest friends, arranged for my house to be put into storage, and updated my LiveSelf, the train had arrived at NDIS.
I showed my ticket to the first attendant I saw, a slender blond with blue eyebrows. "Oh my gods! You must be the luckiest person in the whole galaxy."
"So I don't have any stuff."
"Then you skip the line! Come with me, I'll hand you over to the best Personal Attendant. I'm just baggage." She led me to through the silver-plated terminal, past banners advertising destinations with half the appeal of where I was going. Pretty much everyone I saw looked wiped out, but most of them were wealthy enough to have baggage. There were a few people like me carrying little or nothing, probably with 3D models of everything they had once owned on their watches but not a single physical object to their name. I wondered how many of us had round trip tickets, and realized I was probably one of the only ones. "This is Malik."
"Hi, I'm Nyssa." I shook the hand offered to me by a guy painted entirely silver, probably either out of respect or admiration of the Themerra people.
"Good luck! Can't wait to see you on the show!" The other attendant headed back to the other side of the terminal, where the line was already shorter as people from my train finished arranging for their most valued possessions to accompany them.
"This way, Nyssa." I followed Malik down a hallway, until he opened a door into a room with a bright false window and elegant white bathtub and cushioned chair. For your comfort and so that you don't wake during the journey, we have some simple things for you do do. First, you'll bathe. If you need any assistance I would be happy to provide it. Then," he walked to the chair and tapped his watch. A pillar rose from the floor and unfolded into a side table, already holding a glass of water and divided tray with dozens of pills. "You'll take these. Have you eaten recently?"
"Not since New York."
"Check the menu of the room then, it should appear when you use your glasses. Is there anything else I can provide?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Will you need any assistance bathing?"
I resisted the urge to give him a once over. "No, I'll be all right."
Bliss is something I hadn't often encountered in my adult life. But in a warm bathtub, the soft robe provided to me, and every bite of the real steak I was served... it's all bliss. Every moment.
Then the nausea. Everything black. Every atom of my being on fire. Unable to move. Hear. Flashes of things my eyes couldn't register but my brain translated as death, death, death.
I was on my knees on concrete, sucking in huge lungfuls of air. It was muggy. The robe was covered in ice. I still had a fork in my hand. The space I was in was enormous, empty, and made of concrete with the exception of a large metal door.
I got to my feet, stronger than I felt but still trembling. I had to take small steps to reach the door. Just before I did, it swung open.
A small, wooly square looked up at me with yellow eyes from a bright metal hallway. I heard noises coming from past the being, perhaps from the other doors in the hall. I took a deep breath and arrange my arm so that my watch is between us. "Where am I?" A projection jumped from my wrist to make my words into gestures.
The square lifted three pairs of arms and the watch translated their gestures. "Welcome to JK126! You have been randomly selected for a great honor. The species I serve are the Sonopa. You will be a Sonopa juror."
"A juror? I'm not Sonopa."
"The Sonopa are the greatest and wisest species in the galaxy." The gesture made for this was a number of wild motions and jazz hands, but when the square being had completed them it trembled a little and became a hexagon. A lie? "Their people are always good, but may still be accused of ignoble action. When this occurs, an unbiased jury is needed. You are a member of this three being jury! Congratulations!"
"I was going to Blue Eden."
"Yes."
"Oh god." I felt the tears rising alongside vomit. "That wasn't real. You sent me a fake ticket so I would go through travel preparations and survive the warp."
"Someone undergoing these preparations was necessary. The Sonopa do not lie or fake."
"Okay. Okay. So now what?"
"I will escort you to the trial, and you will make the right decision about the murder."
"Murder?"
The square summersaulted down the corridor, and I followed on foot. The noises continued from behind the doors, mostly chattering. I lifted my wrist and it translated curses. This had to be the prison.
Soon the corridor ended in another metal door. The square set its equivalent of a hand on the handle, and turned to wait for me.
"I have a question." The being didn't move. I hoped he'd seen the translation. "What happens to me after the trial?"
Another long pause. The gestures were slower this time. "I am a slave. You... I hope they will send you to Heaven." The watch binged, and in a different voice informed me. "The word Heaven has multiple meanings in this language. The speaker may mean heaven, hell, home, or the garden.
"Well... thanks."
The door opened. | |
[WP] An alien court system picks jury members by warping in randomly selected intelligent lifeforms from throughout the galaxy. You've just been selected to witness the trial of an alleged alien murder. | "Stop the nitpicking, Jack", my boss said.
"These servers are two millimeters too wide for our racks. They won't fit.
That's not nitpicking, that's physics," I said.
"We can provide you with racks as well," the salesman tried to interject.
His name had dropped from my mind the second I've seen the specs of his
offers. Outdated, overpriced, and on top of that: non-standard.
"Yeah," I said. "And their mountings are two millimeters off as well. Boss, if
you fall for his bullshit, you spend half a million on old hardware and
another twenty thousand on the installation."
"Jack!"
"What? You wanted my opinion. If you wanted somebody decorative you should
have brought ..."
There was a blinding flash of light and instead of sitting between a
pissed-off boss and a huckster I stood between two burly ... things.
"Who the bleep are you?" I asked the person on my right.
The being had a head with two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and two ears. The body
had two arms and two legs. That's where the similarities with a human being
ended. The head was the size of my fist, the eyes sat on stalks. So did the
mouth. The nose was kind of an elephant's trunk, but only as thick as a
finger.
Their skin was of an fluorescent light blue that hurt my eyes more than their
shape, but not as much as their neon-pink uniforms.
"We are bailiffs of the court", the being said. "And you have been selected
for jury duty. Follow us to the box."
"Errrm, no," I said. "I'm most certainly not. You'll return me to my planet.
Who do you think you are to abduct me?"
"We are the Bailiffs of the Court," the being on my left intoned. This time, I
could hear the capitalization.
A second later, they grabbed me under the arms and dragged me towards a desk
that sat at the edge of the huge room. Apparently, I had arrived in a
marble-decked hall. There were thick columns on either side. In front of me
was said desk and a pair of wooden doors.
"I'm the Chief Bailiff," the being behind the desk said. "You, as an
intelligent being, have been selected for jury duty. In accordance to the
protocol, you have been teleported to the Great Hall of Universal Justice to
serve as a juror. No objection is possible. Your ... "
"What if I try to object?", I asked.
"The bailiffs will ensure your compliance, even if it kills you. In that case,
the bailiffs will resuscitate you. As I was about to say: Your mind has been
treated with the usual anti-confusion field and the Universal Translator has
been updated to your language."
The bailiffs dragged me through the doors and into the set of Perry Mason,
just up-scaled by a factor ten. Apparently, I was the last juror to be
selected. Everybody looked at me when the Bailiffs pushed me down on a
moderately comfortable seat.
"The proceedings begin!", another blue stalk-eyed being intoned.
The judge, an octopus with oversized bat wings, flopped down
on the bench. A pale-red goat rose from his seat. A display floating above him
read 'prosecutor'.
Four stalk-eyes brought a shackled stick insect. The defendant, I was informed
by another floating display. The insect was followed by a wheel of about two
meters diameter. The defender rolled behind the table and faced the judge with
his flat side.
"Case number 912787213459," read the bailiff. "Gurshun has murdered Pahulul."
"How do you decide?" the judge asked the jury. A sign appeared, indicating to
raise one of the two items in front of me: an orb for guilty, a feather for
innocent.
All of my fellow jurors raised the orb.
"Jack Freeman of Earth, how do you decide?"
"No idea, your honor," I said. "How about you show me some evidence?
"We have already inspected the Then-And-There machine," the prosecutor said.
"It shows Gurshun killed Pahulul."
"May I see for myself, you honor?"
The judge waved a wing towards the bailiff. A huge flat-screen
TV was wheeled into the room. After the bailiff fiddled with the knobs, it
played a grainy video of one stick insect hacking another one apart
with a comically huge sword.
"Defendant, is that you?" the judge asked.
"Yes, your honor", the insect said. "But I didn't kill Pahululy."
"Jury, how do you decide after seeing the evidence?"
I left the orb where it was.
"More questions, Jack Freeman?"
"Yes, your honor."
"Go ahead. Somebody wake me when you're done," he said and wrapped himself in
his wings.
"OK, Gurshun," I said. "Who is this Pahulul?"
"Pahulul is my best friend. We hatched next to each other, only seconds apart. I
would never hurt him!"
"So, you say this piece of infallible high-tech lies?" I pointed to the
There-and-Then machine. A display explained the machine provided a window to
any place in the known universe, at any time in the past.
"Yes, honored juror. The machine is wrong."
I had the same weird feeling I got when reading the server brochure, not more
than an hour ago and a few billion light years away.
"Bailiff, teleport Pahulul into the court," I said.
The judge snapped upright. His wings produced a strong puff of air. "That's
standard procedure. The teleporter didn't bring the victim here which means
the victim is dead."
"OK, show me Pahulul on the There-and-Then machine," I demanded. "Gurshun, where
would Pahulul be now, if he's not dead?"
The insect was silent. It stared at me with its faceted eyes and said nothing.
Sheesh, aliens. Their head is on the block and they keep quiet. On the other
hand, every alien so far had more or less acted like a human would. Assuming the
insect did too, why would he keep quiet? Could he protect somebody?
"Can you show me what happened after the victim was supposedly killed?" I
asked the judge.
"Running the There-and-Then machine is costly," he reminded.
"Then run in fast-forward mode," I said.
"Noo," came a tortured yell from Gurshun. My suspicion was confirmed
immediately.
The judge seemed to think so as well. The bailiff set the machine in motion
and we all observed how the stick insect put down the sword. The motions
became faster and faster when the bailiff adjusted the controls.
On the screen, one insect dragged half of the other into a box. He put a lid
on it and an address label as I was informed by another floating display. Then
he dragged the box to a waiting robot that carried it away. He repeated the
procedure with the other half of the dead insect. Then, he sat down and
waited. The police arrived and arrested him.
None of this made sense, unless ...
"Where are the boxes now? Can we take a look at one of them?"
The judge made some chirping noises that the Universal Translator could not or
didn't want to interpret. With a flap of his wing, he instructed the bailiff
to do as I requested.
A second later, the box was shown on screen. It sat on a lush green pasture
between a few trees. Nobody was to be seen. The lid of the box had been broken
open. I'd bet a year's salary that it had been broken open from the inside.
"And now the other, please."
The box stood in the mail room of a sales company on the same planet as the
other. Apparently, it was after hours as nobody was there. The lid had been
broken open too. That all but confirmed my suspicion.
"Thank you, your honor. We can stop the machine. Gurshun, just one question.
If I hacked one of you guys apart, do the halves regrow?"
The insect looked shocked. That was all the confirmation, I needed.
"I'm decided, your honor," I said and raised the feather.
"What? How?", the judge stuttered. "Explain, Earthling!"
"Gurshun cut his best buddy in half, well knowing that the two parts would
regrow. Pahulul is not dead. He is so not dead that there are two of him right
now: one on the meadow, one in the mail room."
"Is that true," the judge droned and flapped his wings. He hovered above the
insect like an angel of death. "Did you violate the most sacred of laws? Did
you duplicate a sentient being?"
"Yes, Sir," the insect meekly. "I had to. Pahulul was always so stressed-out. He
could not meet his sales quota regardless how many companies he visited. He
needed some time off. I ..."
"Silence," the judge thundered. "Bailiffs, take him away for incineration.
The jury is dismissed."
The judge landed gracefully behind the bench and waved with a wing in my
direction. The two bailiffs brought me to him.
"Earthling. Jack Freeman. You are the pride of your species. If all of your
people are this attentive and intelligent, they will be a great addition to
the juries of the future."
He went on to praise me and my contribution to this case. All I wanted was to
go home. It had been a long day. There was just one thing I needed to know.
"If you burn the buy because he cloned his best friend, what would you have
done if he really had killed him?"
"Psychiatric ward until declared healthy", the judge said.
"I don't get it. Why you would kill somebody for creating new life, but treat
a murder like a mental illness?"
"Do you believe in souls? Does your planet have this concept?"
"I, personally, don't believe in them. But yes, we have this concept."
"Then tell me, Jack, if a person with is duplicated, what happens to their
soul? What happened to Pahulul's soul? Was it halved? Did it regrow like his
body?"
"No idea. Could be either of those things."
"Yes, nobody knows," the judge said. "But nothing good could come out of that
situation, right?"
"Hmm," I said. Something was off. This time, it took me a second to
understand. If I was right, it would explain why the teleporter and the
There-and-Then machine had failed to prove that Pahulul was live.
"Let me guess, you use the 'soul' to identify people. Kind of a fingerprint on
my planet. A feature, unique for each person. So, if somebody is duplicated,
you don't know which one to teleport or, for that matter, to put on trial."
A blinding flash returned me to earth without an answer. | Chad had been masturbating, rather lethargically and with no obvious end in sight, when he looked up to discover that he was no longer in his studio apartment.
He thought at first that he may have blacked out, because this was a thing that sometimes happened when he sniffed markers and played with himself for more than 45 minutes. But this was not the case.
Instead of his apartment, Chad was in an endless, white room. To his immediate left, some sort of alligator-man sat twiddling his hooked claws and muttering to himself. To the right, a clear cube filled with phosphorescent leaves blinked and hummed like a old man at a bus stop.
Further up and down the line on both sides, odd creatures of light and slime and prehensile tails sat, waiting patiently. So Chad did the same. He was not wearing pants, because of the masturbation, but then no one else seemed to have pants, so he decided not to dwell on it.
After a time, two cylinders of swirling light - one red, the other sort of bluish - appeared before Chad.
"Chad Burns?"
Chad nodded. "Present?"
"Chad - do you have prior knowledge of the events that occurred on starscale 00:45:919 in the Chronium Rim, 187th parallel?"
Chad could not tell which column of light was talking to him, so he made sure to look at both so as to avoid causing offense.
"What?"
"Chad - have you ever met or associated with the Tobathian known as Handus the Narrow-Footed?"
"...what?"
"Chad - do you consider yourself biased against Tobathians as a race?"
Chad considered this one a hard moment. "Come again?"
"I have no cause for rejection."
"I have no cause for rejection."
The columns of red and blue light disappeared. The alligator-man seemed to be laughing, but Chad couldn't be sure about that one way or the other.
Some time later, a block of wood dressed in sequins and glass beads appeared before the alligator, muttering words the alligator-man seemed to understand. He disappeared from the endless white room almost immediately. The beaded block of wood then stood in front of the cube of leaves and hummed a tune that Chad thought might be a Cars song. The cube disappeared. The block of wood ignored Chad and disappeared into the whiteness of the room's endless horizon.
Chad was glad the room was not especially cold.
A table appeared before Chad. On the edge of the table was a sheaf of paper and a sharpened pencil. Chad had not considered the possibility that there would be a test. Fortunately, the pages were blank.
Other tables appeared around the room - left, right, above, and below. Each table was uniquely shaped to accommodate the uniquely shaped creature that was soon sitting behind those desks. There was a mosquito-man and an anvil-man and something like a crock-pot with a bun of silvery grandma hair. There were a hundred at least, and none that looked even a little bit like Chad. At the very least, he continued to feel at ease in his pantslessness.
In the center of the sphere of floating desks a cylinder of orange light appeared, followed closely by the red and blue cylinders. Chad waved.
In between the red and blue cylinders a final being appeared. This last thing was very nearly human, except it's feet were abnormally narrow. Chad tried his best not to stare.
"Handus the Narrow-Footed - you have been charged with three counts of astrolarceny. How do you plead?"
The narrow-footed man stood to speak. Chad worried that he might fall over on such preposterously slender feet.
"Guilty, your honor."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Well..."
"I *said* he would, didn't I?"
"They always say they will and then they don't."
The man shrugged. "Well, I did it. Take me away."
"Hum. Very well. Sentencing tomorrow. Court is adjourned. Return the jury."
Chad's desk disappeared. "That's it?" One of the wooden blocks appeared.
"Earth, correct?"
"Yeah," said Chad. "Jersey. Petersburg. Sun..."
"Well, is it Jersey or Petersburg?"
"Uh. Jersey. But Petersburg is a to..."
"Thank you for your service," said the wooden block in a voice even more wooden than you'd expect from a wooden block. "The Galactic Consortium of Justice appreciates your efforts today. Goodbye."
Then Chad was on a beach. It was very cold and rocky and not at all familiar.
Chad made a mental note to keep his pants on while masturbating and began to walk. | |
[WP] in a future universe super powers are available for purchase. However it costs $250,000 and you cannot pick your power, it's decided based on personality and physical attributes. You have finally saved up enough money ... | The day before my 25th birthday. That's when it happened. My whole life, I'd always been in a rush. Go from here to there, always trying to get the next big promotion at my job, always working hard to impress others. I never really had time for family and friends.
But the day before my 25th birthday, my grandfather died. I loved him so much. I was never there for him. I always wanted to call, but I just never had the time. I didn't have a wife or kids, I was just... _busy_. I was always busy.
So when I got the call from the local hospital that he had suffered cardiac arrest, I was devastated. For once, I stopped rushing around. Grief overwhelmed me. I slowly drove my car to the hospital. Grandpa was dead now and I hadn't spoken to him in over 5 months. Mom and dad died when I was little, and grandma had died shortly after they took me in. He always smiled though, he never let me see the pain. Grandpa was always good to me, and what did I ever do for him? Nothing. I'm no good. I'm just worthless.
The lawyers came later on, telling me about the inheritance. He left me a lot of money. Almost $200,000. How long had he been saving up for it? But that wasn't the part that finally broke me down. It was the letter he'd written in his will.
_"Jonathan. I've always loved you so much. After Mary passed, I was always holding back the tears. You were the only thing that made my life worth living. I know you've been busy, so I was aiming to save up and get you a special surprise. I know you love helping people at your job. Being a pediatrician takes a lot of hard work and putting in the long hours._
_But I wanted you to know that you can really help a lot of people now. More than you've ever known. If you're reading this letter, it means I have died. I don't know if I was able to save up enough, but I hope I was. There's an operation you can get from the Luthorian Hospital. It will change you. My grandfather did the operation for me, and I had a good run in my younger years. Now it's time to pass it on to you._
_Take care, your grandather, Jim."_
I knew what grandpa was talking about. The operation to gain super abilities. It was very expensive, and always had a major effect on the world when someone used it. I didn't know that my grandfather had been a S-Citizen, as we called them, but if that was what he wanted for me, how could I deny him? What right did I have?
He left me $200,000. That was a lot of money, but it was more than 50 grand short. That's okay, I'll take it out of my savings. I'll be dead broke, but if that's what Grandpa Jim wanted, I'd do it.
------------------
A week later, I had the operation. The doctors warned me it would take time for the ability or abilities to kick in. But that's the funny thing, isn't it? Time. It turns out my ability was super speed. It didn't work out as you'd expect though. People think super-speed means you run really fast. What it really means though is that your perception of time and the world around you slows to a complete stop.
Nobody moves around anymore. I was always fast, but now I'm beyond fast. It's been 40 years. My body has aged but time has not moved. The children are still frozen playing at the park. The apple falling from the tree hasn't moved an inch. The president is still stuck mid-sentence in a keynote address. Nothing changes, but still my body ages. I can only get by by eating the unspoiled food from grocery stores. I've eaten out two major cities and a few smaller metropolitan areas by this point. People are going to have a rude shock the instant I die and time returns to normal.
It's kind of funny when you think about it. My whole life before the operation, I rushed to get things done. I rushed so fast that I never had time to think about what really mattered. Now that I move at the speed of light, I have all the time in the world but nobody to share it with.
The more I think about it, the more I realize... nothing has really changed. I'm just more aware than ever of how flawed I am. If there is a god, he's having a good laugh now. | "Aw fuck. Everytime I sneeze?"
"Yes, sir. It seems that way."
"And I can't control where?"
"I'm sorry, sir. This is what it chose for you. Maybe you'll find some good in it someday."
The lab tech was no help. Reading the computer monitor one last time, I hopped off the gurney and headed out the door.
I had always been prone to getting sick. All throughout my life it seemed I lived in a hospital room, so, of course, I knew all of my physicians on a first name basis. I thought that I would get a power that would let me overcome my poor immune system rather than work with it, but evidently not. At any rate, I'd gone about four days before a sneeze crept up on me...
...I'd always wanted a vacation in Tahiti. | |
[WP] in a future universe super powers are available for purchase. However it costs $250,000 and you cannot pick your power, it's decided based on personality and physical attributes. You have finally saved up enough money ... | 47 years of saving my money had finally come to this. The operation was done, now to find out the power. The doctor burst in, smile gleaming on his face. "Sir, you are the first participant in this test, if you will, to get this result. You got Technokinesis. Complete control over all technology, including AI." I leapt up and bounded out of the surgery. 250,000 dollars for this. It was incredible.
The first things I did was try it out. I could make televisions turn on and off, change the volume, you name it I could do it. That's when I turned to robots. A complete army at my control. Tanks, fighter jets, helicopters, everything.
The military surrounded me, yelling "Put your hands on the ground! Do not move!" I just ignored them, my newfound fame was only just beginning. I could take revenge on the one things that took my daughter's life. The Oracle. The one superhero who thought it would be fun to torture a little girl, while her father watched, to see if his prediction came true. Well now, his robotic parts won't stand a chance. | "Void?"
"Yes, Void"
"But... void... really?" the voice was muffled by a layer of bandage.
The doctor shifted uneasily in his perched position at the end of the bed.
"Listen Mr Grant, can I call you...?" He glanced down at the clipboard in his hand "Opie, really, like the Charactor in the Andy...?"
The bandaged man in the bed waved this away, his arm
"Yes, like in the show, look you were telling me about Void"
"Right, right, right, void" The doctor spent a moment tapping dazzling white teeth with the end of a pen and staring into the heavens for a moment before continuing. "Opie, Here at Gene-Genie we garuantee that the Powers we provide are absolutely and precisely tailored to each client."
He stood, and paced towards the window
"Our researchers investigate every faccet of the clients personality, life-style, moral standing..." Each point was ticked off with a tap to his perfect teeth. " ...sexual hisory, every facet, every nuance of their psychy"
"But... void though?" The nurse by his side tsk'd him into silence as she began to unpick the dressings at his temples and throat.
Dr. Sandstrom spun from the window, his finely creased trousers settling instantly over his highly polished Oxford Brogues.
"Woah now Mr. Grant, Opie, I don't think you understand quite what this power is." The Doctor smoothly arched an eyebrow "When we looked into you, do know what we found, do you?"
He leaned forward and continued in a conspiritorial whisper "We found a guy who gets the superman package at no extra charge." Dr. Sandstrom sat upright, his eyes glistening with corporate pride.
"We found a guy that when someone tries to shoot him, the bullets will just fall to the ground, spent of energy" a manicured hand patted the patients knee "When a bad guy punches him, the force is absorbed with no harm and can be stored for later use."
The light level in the room dimmed as the last of the bandages were removed.
"In essence, Mr. Grant, after looking into you, into your soul, we finally found someone who deserved the great attracter." A look of humbled awe had come over his face "Someone who could be the singularity."
After a moments silence, the patient in the bed whispered a single word.
"Awesome"
His work done, the Doctor hung the clipboard on the end of the bed and backed out of the room.
Turning left in the corridor his pace picked up. Now striding purposefully.
Now jabbing impatiently at the buttons on several lifts, and barging through various security checkpoints, the sound of voices could be heard over his echoing footsteps, a back and forth litany in bored tones.
"John Radcliff"
"Erm... flying."
"William Gambit"
"He's down for telekinesis, but we are out of TK6 til next week, so... invisibility?"
"Lisa Mahone."
"Fire, cause she's like so damn h..."
Dr. Hamilton Sandstrom came to the door of the small sub-basement room, raised the supple leather of his glossy footwear, and kicked it in.
The two men seated at the console paused sentence, and in one case mid-cheeto-to-mouth.
"Gentlemen, I like to think of myself as a calm man, a professional man, but really this is intolerable." he stared into their blank, childlike faces, the rage draining out of him in an instant.
"Look, don't you understand, don't you get how badly we could be sued. If he ever figures it out... Oh forget it" with a sigh he turned and stalked from the room, leaving the two men to sit in silence.
After a moment, a quiet chant was all that could be heard behind him.
"OP sucks!"
^"OP ^sucks!"
^^"OP ^^sucks!"
^^^"OP ^^^sucks!" | |
[WP] in a future universe super powers are available for purchase. However it costs $250,000 and you cannot pick your power, it's decided based on personality and physical attributes. You have finally saved up enough money ... | I never expected to be in the waiting room ready to receive my new powers this soon. Ever since it was made public when I was a child that someone had found a way to give you superpowers I’d been ready for mine. I would do anything to get them. All of the rich kids at school of course got powers right away as gifts from their parents’ overflowing bank accounts. It was far too expensive for me and my family though. But that never deterred me. Someday I’d have scrimped and saved enough money that I’d be able to afford a power, and as my dad always said, I’d have more character because of it. I’d be even better than the rich kids that got powers handed to them.
My plan had always been to save up on my own. I’d figured I’d get enough to afford powers when I was about 50. Sure I’d have dropped my whole life savings on it, but it was worth it to me. My little sister always argued against it; to try to talk me out of it. And yeah, sure, I knew it was a bit of a gamble. You never knew what kind of powers you would end up getting after all. I’d heard stories of people spending their life savings to get powers with the belief that they’d then be able to use those powers to make millions, but they’d ended up getting super smell; something that could be useful if you got creative, but of course they’d been a little horrified at their new power compared with how much money it had cost them.
Despite those warning stories, I was never deterred. I always just felt like I was destined for more. I just didn’t realize it would come when I was 25. A week of horrors had left me alone in the world with no family, but lots of money. My father was at the bank when some punk wannabe villain robbed the place and ended up blowing the whole building up. While he was in the hospital Dr. Magnitude levelled the entire wing while trying to take out some hero I’d never heard of, killing all three. I’d gone home for a few hours to get some sleep and let the dog out right before that happened.
After a whirlwind few months I had no family left, but plenty of money after all 3 of their villain insurance policies paid out to me. I was left hollow and depressed for a while, but finally decided it was time to take action.
“Mr. Shepard? Mr. Shepard, if you’d please follow me the doctor is ready,” said a petite nurse with the darkest black hair I’ve ever seen. It was really all I could see of her with her surgical mask on. I followed her back into a small, well-lit room and sat on the examination table after Dr. Anderson indicated that I should do so. He seemed to have his big, friendly smile on his face, but again it was covered by his own mask. Dr. Anderson had short, dark blonde hair with a slight dusting of grey at the temples that seemed to accentuate that he was old enough to have been in the industry for a while and experienced enough to be trustworthy. I don’t know why, but it had always made me feel more comfortable during our prep sessions.
“It’s nice to see you again Daniel. We’ve been over everything in our pre-op appointments, so I’ll get right to the procedure unless you have any additional questions.”
“No,” I responded. “Let’s get this done. I’m excited to see what I get.”
“Fantastic,” he said as he put the oxygen mask over my face. “If you’ll just keep breathing, you’ll find that you’ll slowly drift off and we can…”
I woke slowly to find myself staring at the ceiling. I laid there for a minute while my thoughts slowly came back to me. Finally, I leaned up a little and propped myself up with my elbows. Dr. Anderson was sitting at a computer in the corner of the room typing something. There were two other doctors that I didn’t recognize sitting behind him looking at the screen. When one noticed I’d come to he whispered something to Dr. Anderson, who stood up and smiled.
“Daniel, welcome back.”
“Thanks,” I replied, still a little groggy. “Any word yet on what I got?”
“Yes, well I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” Dr. Anderson replied, pausing for added dramatic effect. When he saw me lean forward in anticipation he seemed satisfied and continued. “It doesn’t happen often. In fact, it’s only ever happened in a few documented cases. However, occasionally the procedure is quite effective. In fact, sometimes it’s more successful than intended. You’ve received multiple powers. More specifically, you’ve so far shown signs of 3 different powers.”
| "Void?"
"Yes, Void"
"But... void... really?" the voice was muffled by a layer of bandage.
The doctor shifted uneasily in his perched position at the end of the bed.
"Listen Mr Grant, can I call you...?" He glanced down at the clipboard in his hand "Opie, really, like the Charactor in the Andy...?"
The bandaged man in the bed waved this away, his arm
"Yes, like in the show, look you were telling me about Void"
"Right, right, right, void" The doctor spent a moment tapping dazzling white teeth with the end of a pen and staring into the heavens for a moment before continuing. "Opie, Here at Gene-Genie we garuantee that the Powers we provide are absolutely and precisely tailored to each client."
He stood, and paced towards the window
"Our researchers investigate every faccet of the clients personality, life-style, moral standing..." Each point was ticked off with a tap to his perfect teeth. " ...sexual hisory, every facet, every nuance of their psychy"
"But... void though?" The nurse by his side tsk'd him into silence as she began to unpick the dressings at his temples and throat.
Dr. Sandstrom spun from the window, his finely creased trousers settling instantly over his highly polished Oxford Brogues.
"Woah now Mr. Grant, Opie, I don't think you understand quite what this power is." The Doctor smoothly arched an eyebrow "When we looked into you, do know what we found, do you?"
He leaned forward and continued in a conspiritorial whisper "We found a guy who gets the superman package at no extra charge." Dr. Sandstrom sat upright, his eyes glistening with corporate pride.
"We found a guy that when someone tries to shoot him, the bullets will just fall to the ground, spent of energy" a manicured hand patted the patients knee "When a bad guy punches him, the force is absorbed with no harm and can be stored for later use."
The light level in the room dimmed as the last of the bandages were removed.
"In essence, Mr. Grant, after looking into you, into your soul, we finally found someone who deserved the great attracter." A look of humbled awe had come over his face "Someone who could be the singularity."
After a moments silence, the patient in the bed whispered a single word.
"Awesome"
His work done, the Doctor hung the clipboard on the end of the bed and backed out of the room.
Turning left in the corridor his pace picked up. Now striding purposefully.
Now jabbing impatiently at the buttons on several lifts, and barging through various security checkpoints, the sound of voices could be heard over his echoing footsteps, a back and forth litany in bored tones.
"John Radcliff"
"Erm... flying."
"William Gambit"
"He's down for telekinesis, but we are out of TK6 til next week, so... invisibility?"
"Lisa Mahone."
"Fire, cause she's like so damn h..."
Dr. Hamilton Sandstrom came to the door of the small sub-basement room, raised the supple leather of his glossy footwear, and kicked it in.
The two men seated at the console paused sentence, and in one case mid-cheeto-to-mouth.
"Gentlemen, I like to think of myself as a calm man, a professional man, but really this is intolerable." he stared into their blank, childlike faces, the rage draining out of him in an instant.
"Look, don't you understand, don't you get how badly we could be sued. If he ever figures it out... Oh forget it" with a sigh he turned and stalked from the room, leaving the two men to sit in silence.
After a moment, a quiet chant was all that could be heard behind him.
"OP sucks!"
^"OP ^sucks!"
^^"OP ^^sucks!"
^^^"OP ^^^sucks!" | |
[WP] in a future universe super powers are available for purchase. However it costs $250,000 and you cannot pick your power, it's decided based on personality and physical attributes. You have finally saved up enough money ... | My 21st birthday went like just about every other day in my life has. I woke up, made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast, made sure my bag was packed for class, and went about my day trying to talk to as little people as possible.
My life hadn't been very interesting up until then. I was never exceptionally smart or funny, never athletic or charismatic. I didn't have any friends, which was fine because I hated talking to people anyways. My family wasn't rich, but we weren't poor either. I guess you could say almost everything in my life was average.
They had started selling superpowers about 3 years ago, but I never payed much attention to the news about it. There were 5 different superpowers people were able to get, and it just seemed like an extension of talents that that person already had. All the sports players got super strength or speed. All the smart kids got telekinesis or super intelligence. The only other power I ever saw people with was the power to fly, but that was really rare.
When I got home from my classes for they day, I was greeted by a big hug from my mom, saying she had a surprise for me. I walked with her into the kitchen and she showed me a cheque for $250 000 and said that it was finally time for me to show everyone how special I was. My dad said he couldn't wait to see what I could do with my new superpowers. I thanked them, but the entire time all I wanted to do was go to my room and read. I didn't want superpowers. I didn't want my parents to waste our money like this, but I was too scared to tell them no.
The next day my parents drove me to the hospital for the operation.
The nurse told me that I needed to be restrained as a precaution in case something went wrong, and that they had to put me to sleep for the procedure, and the last thing I remember was the doctor saying he was very interested to see what my power would be.
------------------------------------
"I don't know what happened sir... Maybe it didn't work?"
"No that's not possible. It always works."
"Sir he's not showing any readings like our other patients do... He's the exact same as he was before the operation."
"Well then we'll just make up some bullshit. We can't give their money back."
'The surgery must not have worked,' I thought. 'I'm so average that there literally aren't any powers for them to give me.'
I was so embarrassed. I just wanted to disappear.
The nurse walked over to my bed, looked down at me, and turned around and shouted "SIR WE HAVE A PROBLEM CALL SECURITY!!"
I had no idea what she was talking about. I wanted to leave but I was still tied down to the bed. I couldn't go anywhere.
"He was right there 5 minutes ago! I have no idea where he went. The restraints are still tied and everything is where it was before."
I didn't understand what was going on. I was still in my bed, tied down like they left me. Then I looked down and stifled a scream as I realized that my body seemed to have disappeared.
'Oh god I'm literally invisible' I thought. | "Void?"
"Yes, Void"
"But... void... really?" the voice was muffled by a layer of bandage.
The doctor shifted uneasily in his perched position at the end of the bed.
"Listen Mr Grant, can I call you...?" He glanced down at the clipboard in his hand "Opie, really, like the Charactor in the Andy...?"
The bandaged man in the bed waved this away, his arm
"Yes, like in the show, look you were telling me about Void"
"Right, right, right, void" The doctor spent a moment tapping dazzling white teeth with the end of a pen and staring into the heavens for a moment before continuing. "Opie, Here at Gene-Genie we garuantee that the Powers we provide are absolutely and precisely tailored to each client."
He stood, and paced towards the window
"Our researchers investigate every faccet of the clients personality, life-style, moral standing..." Each point was ticked off with a tap to his perfect teeth. " ...sexual hisory, every facet, every nuance of their psychy"
"But... void though?" The nurse by his side tsk'd him into silence as she began to unpick the dressings at his temples and throat.
Dr. Sandstrom spun from the window, his finely creased trousers settling instantly over his highly polished Oxford Brogues.
"Woah now Mr. Grant, Opie, I don't think you understand quite what this power is." The Doctor smoothly arched an eyebrow "When we looked into you, do know what we found, do you?"
He leaned forward and continued in a conspiritorial whisper "We found a guy who gets the superman package at no extra charge." Dr. Sandstrom sat upright, his eyes glistening with corporate pride.
"We found a guy that when someone tries to shoot him, the bullets will just fall to the ground, spent of energy" a manicured hand patted the patients knee "When a bad guy punches him, the force is absorbed with no harm and can be stored for later use."
The light level in the room dimmed as the last of the bandages were removed.
"In essence, Mr. Grant, after looking into you, into your soul, we finally found someone who deserved the great attracter." A look of humbled awe had come over his face "Someone who could be the singularity."
After a moments silence, the patient in the bed whispered a single word.
"Awesome"
His work done, the Doctor hung the clipboard on the end of the bed and backed out of the room.
Turning left in the corridor his pace picked up. Now striding purposefully.
Now jabbing impatiently at the buttons on several lifts, and barging through various security checkpoints, the sound of voices could be heard over his echoing footsteps, a back and forth litany in bored tones.
"John Radcliff"
"Erm... flying."
"William Gambit"
"He's down for telekinesis, but we are out of TK6 til next week, so... invisibility?"
"Lisa Mahone."
"Fire, cause she's like so damn h..."
Dr. Hamilton Sandstrom came to the door of the small sub-basement room, raised the supple leather of his glossy footwear, and kicked it in.
The two men seated at the console paused sentence, and in one case mid-cheeto-to-mouth.
"Gentlemen, I like to think of myself as a calm man, a professional man, but really this is intolerable." he stared into their blank, childlike faces, the rage draining out of him in an instant.
"Look, don't you understand, don't you get how badly we could be sued. If he ever figures it out... Oh forget it" with a sigh he turned and stalked from the room, leaving the two men to sit in silence.
After a moment, a quiet chant was all that could be heard behind him.
"OP sucks!"
^"OP ^sucks!"
^^"OP ^^sucks!"
^^^"OP ^^^sucks!" | |
[WP] in a future universe super powers are available for purchase. However it costs $250,000 and you cannot pick your power, it's decided based on personality and physical attributes. You have finally saved up enough money ... | The thing is, I had a plan. The problem, however, was that I was an idiot. I thought I would be the first to try it, but I should've realised that if what I wanted to do was actually... well, doable, it would have been done before. All the time. But like I said. I'm an idiot.
So anyway. Everyone knows how hard it is to save a quarter of a million dollars. And I'm pretty lazy. So I decided to try and get a loan, thinking that I could turn whatever power I was given into some sort of money making scheme. Of course, no bank wants to lend that money out to a dude who lives in a one bedroom flat and tends a bar six nights a week. So I was stuck. But the bar I worked in wasn't really the safest place in the city, we had some characters there that weren't exactly above board with their dealings, you get me? However, I realised a long time ago that if you make friends with a dangerous, scary person that's one less person that will wave a gun in your face. And dude, I was a barman. I'm friends with everyone (they tip more that way.)
But I digress. You guys probably know where this is going. I worked out which of the guys in the bar was a loan shark and asked him to meet me after work one night. He did, and I asked him for the cash. He agreed. So far so... good, I guess. Then he added the condition. I had to meet with his boss, and if she agreed we were good to go, I'd have to do something else. I agreed. So we went to meet his boss. Now, I was expecting like, a proper scary lady. Laser eyes or some shit, but this woman was not that. 92 years old, frail and grandmotherly, she reminded me of my Nan. We rocked up to her cottage (seriously, this old gal lived in a cottage) and all she did was look me up and down for half a minute. Then she smiled the sweetest smile ever and said she could help. I was stoked. Then she asked for a vial of blood. I was less stoked, but I really wanted this money. The loan shark bloke drew my blood, we signed a contract stating they'd have the money back in three months and I went on my merry way, carrying $250,000 in cash.
This is where me being an idiot comes into play. Not a lot of people have these powers yet, there's been a lot of fear-mongering in the news, and damn, they ain't cheap. So I was planning on kinda... not paying the money back. When I have my super strength or ability to fly who could stop me? So I went and got my power, right? I got a sick one too, short bursts of time slowing or something like that. Basically I could slow down time for about three seconds, turning it into about a minute where I could move normal speed. Not quite super speed, but similar. It was cool.
Not everything went to plan though. Course it didn't, I told you I was an idiot at the start. Turns out there was a reason they needed my blood. When I didn't pay the money back, the old lady got mad. She had a power. It was to swap bodies with whoever's blood she drank. So that's how I'm now a 92 year old woman waiting to die. I always wondered what it would be like to be a chick but... not like this. Not like this. More tea? | "Void?"
"Yes, Void"
"But... void... really?" the voice was muffled by a layer of bandage.
The doctor shifted uneasily in his perched position at the end of the bed.
"Listen Mr Grant, can I call you...?" He glanced down at the clipboard in his hand "Opie, really, like the Charactor in the Andy...?"
The bandaged man in the bed waved this away, his arm
"Yes, like in the show, look you were telling me about Void"
"Right, right, right, void" The doctor spent a moment tapping dazzling white teeth with the end of a pen and staring into the heavens for a moment before continuing. "Opie, Here at Gene-Genie we garuantee that the Powers we provide are absolutely and precisely tailored to each client."
He stood, and paced towards the window
"Our researchers investigate every faccet of the clients personality, life-style, moral standing..." Each point was ticked off with a tap to his perfect teeth. " ...sexual hisory, every facet, every nuance of their psychy"
"But... void though?" The nurse by his side tsk'd him into silence as she began to unpick the dressings at his temples and throat.
Dr. Sandstrom spun from the window, his finely creased trousers settling instantly over his highly polished Oxford Brogues.
"Woah now Mr. Grant, Opie, I don't think you understand quite what this power is." The Doctor smoothly arched an eyebrow "When we looked into you, do know what we found, do you?"
He leaned forward and continued in a conspiritorial whisper "We found a guy who gets the superman package at no extra charge." Dr. Sandstrom sat upright, his eyes glistening with corporate pride.
"We found a guy that when someone tries to shoot him, the bullets will just fall to the ground, spent of energy" a manicured hand patted the patients knee "When a bad guy punches him, the force is absorbed with no harm and can be stored for later use."
The light level in the room dimmed as the last of the bandages were removed.
"In essence, Mr. Grant, after looking into you, into your soul, we finally found someone who deserved the great attracter." A look of humbled awe had come over his face "Someone who could be the singularity."
After a moments silence, the patient in the bed whispered a single word.
"Awesome"
His work done, the Doctor hung the clipboard on the end of the bed and backed out of the room.
Turning left in the corridor his pace picked up. Now striding purposefully.
Now jabbing impatiently at the buttons on several lifts, and barging through various security checkpoints, the sound of voices could be heard over his echoing footsteps, a back and forth litany in bored tones.
"John Radcliff"
"Erm... flying."
"William Gambit"
"He's down for telekinesis, but we are out of TK6 til next week, so... invisibility?"
"Lisa Mahone."
"Fire, cause she's like so damn h..."
Dr. Hamilton Sandstrom came to the door of the small sub-basement room, raised the supple leather of his glossy footwear, and kicked it in.
The two men seated at the console paused sentence, and in one case mid-cheeto-to-mouth.
"Gentlemen, I like to think of myself as a calm man, a professional man, but really this is intolerable." he stared into their blank, childlike faces, the rage draining out of him in an instant.
"Look, don't you understand, don't you get how badly we could be sued. If he ever figures it out... Oh forget it" with a sigh he turned and stalked from the room, leaving the two men to sit in silence.
After a moment, a quiet chant was all that could be heard behind him.
"OP sucks!"
^"OP ^sucks!"
^^"OP ^^sucks!"
^^^"OP ^^^sucks!" | |
[WP] in a future universe super powers are available for purchase. However it costs $250,000 and you cannot pick your power, it's decided based on personality and physical attributes. You have finally saved up enough money ... | I never expected to be in the waiting room ready to receive my new powers this soon. Ever since it was made public when I was a child that someone had found a way to give you superpowers I’d been ready for mine. I would do anything to get them. All of the rich kids at school of course got powers right away as gifts from their parents’ overflowing bank accounts. It was far too expensive for me and my family though. But that never deterred me. Someday I’d have scrimped and saved enough money that I’d be able to afford a power, and as my dad always said, I’d have more character because of it. I’d be even better than the rich kids that got powers handed to them.
My plan had always been to save up on my own. I’d figured I’d get enough to afford powers when I was about 50. Sure I’d have dropped my whole life savings on it, but it was worth it to me. My little sister always argued against it; to try to talk me out of it. And yeah, sure, I knew it was a bit of a gamble. You never knew what kind of powers you would end up getting after all. I’d heard stories of people spending their life savings to get powers with the belief that they’d then be able to use those powers to make millions, but they’d ended up getting super smell; something that could be useful if you got creative, but of course they’d been a little horrified at their new power compared with how much money it had cost them.
Despite those warning stories, I was never deterred. I always just felt like I was destined for more. I just didn’t realize it would come when I was 25. A week of horrors had left me alone in the world with no family, but lots of money. My father was at the bank when some punk wannabe villain robbed the place and ended up blowing the whole building up. While he was in the hospital Dr. Magnitude levelled the entire wing while trying to take out some hero I’d never heard of, killing all three. I’d gone home for a few hours to get some sleep and let the dog out right before that happened.
After a whirlwind few months I had no family left, but plenty of money after all 3 of their villain insurance policies paid out to me. I was left hollow and depressed for a while, but finally decided it was time to take action.
“Mr. Shepard? Mr. Shepard, if you’d please follow me the doctor is ready,” said a petite nurse with the darkest black hair I’ve ever seen. It was really all I could see of her with her surgical mask on. I followed her back into a small, well-lit room and sat on the examination table after Dr. Anderson indicated that I should do so. He seemed to have his big, friendly smile on his face, but again it was covered by his own mask. Dr. Anderson had short, dark blonde hair with a slight dusting of grey at the temples that seemed to accentuate that he was old enough to have been in the industry for a while and experienced enough to be trustworthy. I don’t know why, but it had always made me feel more comfortable during our prep sessions.
“It’s nice to see you again Daniel. We’ve been over everything in our pre-op appointments, so I’ll get right to the procedure unless you have any additional questions.”
“No,” I responded. “Let’s get this done. I’m excited to see what I get.”
“Fantastic,” he said as he put the oxygen mask over my face. “If you’ll just keep breathing, you’ll find that you’ll slowly drift off and we can…”
I woke slowly to find myself staring at the ceiling. I laid there for a minute while my thoughts slowly came back to me. Finally, I leaned up a little and propped myself up with my elbows. Dr. Anderson was sitting at a computer in the corner of the room typing something. There were two other doctors that I didn’t recognize sitting behind him looking at the screen. When one noticed I’d come to he whispered something to Dr. Anderson, who stood up and smiled.
“Daniel, welcome back.”
“Thanks,” I replied, still a little groggy. “Any word yet on what I got?”
“Yes, well I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” Dr. Anderson replied, pausing for added dramatic effect. When he saw me lean forward in anticipation he seemed satisfied and continued. “It doesn’t happen often. In fact, it’s only ever happened in a few documented cases. However, occasionally the procedure is quite effective. In fact, sometimes it’s more successful than intended. You’ve received multiple powers. More specifically, you’ve so far shown signs of 3 different powers.”
| 47 years of saving my money had finally come to this. The operation was done, now to find out the power. The doctor burst in, smile gleaming on his face. "Sir, you are the first participant in this test, if you will, to get this result. You got Technokinesis. Complete control over all technology, including AI." I leapt up and bounded out of the surgery. 250,000 dollars for this. It was incredible.
The first things I did was try it out. I could make televisions turn on and off, change the volume, you name it I could do it. That's when I turned to robots. A complete army at my control. Tanks, fighter jets, helicopters, everything.
The military surrounded me, yelling "Put your hands on the ground! Do not move!" I just ignored them, my newfound fame was only just beginning. I could take revenge on the one things that took my daughter's life. The Oracle. The one superhero who thought it would be fun to torture a little girl, while her father watched, to see if his prediction came true. Well now, his robotic parts won't stand a chance. | |
[WP] in a future universe super powers are available for purchase. However it costs $250,000 and you cannot pick your power, it's decided based on personality and physical attributes. You have finally saved up enough money ... | My 21st birthday went like just about every other day in my life has. I woke up, made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast, made sure my bag was packed for class, and went about my day trying to talk to as little people as possible.
My life hadn't been very interesting up until then. I was never exceptionally smart or funny, never athletic or charismatic. I didn't have any friends, which was fine because I hated talking to people anyways. My family wasn't rich, but we weren't poor either. I guess you could say almost everything in my life was average.
They had started selling superpowers about 3 years ago, but I never payed much attention to the news about it. There were 5 different superpowers people were able to get, and it just seemed like an extension of talents that that person already had. All the sports players got super strength or speed. All the smart kids got telekinesis or super intelligence. The only other power I ever saw people with was the power to fly, but that was really rare.
When I got home from my classes for they day, I was greeted by a big hug from my mom, saying she had a surprise for me. I walked with her into the kitchen and she showed me a cheque for $250 000 and said that it was finally time for me to show everyone how special I was. My dad said he couldn't wait to see what I could do with my new superpowers. I thanked them, but the entire time all I wanted to do was go to my room and read. I didn't want superpowers. I didn't want my parents to waste our money like this, but I was too scared to tell them no.
The next day my parents drove me to the hospital for the operation.
The nurse told me that I needed to be restrained as a precaution in case something went wrong, and that they had to put me to sleep for the procedure, and the last thing I remember was the doctor saying he was very interested to see what my power would be.
------------------------------------
"I don't know what happened sir... Maybe it didn't work?"
"No that's not possible. It always works."
"Sir he's not showing any readings like our other patients do... He's the exact same as he was before the operation."
"Well then we'll just make up some bullshit. We can't give their money back."
'The surgery must not have worked,' I thought. 'I'm so average that there literally aren't any powers for them to give me.'
I was so embarrassed. I just wanted to disappear.
The nurse walked over to my bed, looked down at me, and turned around and shouted "SIR WE HAVE A PROBLEM CALL SECURITY!!"
I had no idea what she was talking about. I wanted to leave but I was still tied down to the bed. I couldn't go anywhere.
"He was right there 5 minutes ago! I have no idea where he went. The restraints are still tied and everything is where it was before."
I didn't understand what was going on. I was still in my bed, tied down like they left me. Then I looked down and stifled a scream as I realized that my body seemed to have disappeared.
'Oh god I'm literally invisible' I thought. | 47 years of saving my money had finally come to this. The operation was done, now to find out the power. The doctor burst in, smile gleaming on his face. "Sir, you are the first participant in this test, if you will, to get this result. You got Technokinesis. Complete control over all technology, including AI." I leapt up and bounded out of the surgery. 250,000 dollars for this. It was incredible.
The first things I did was try it out. I could make televisions turn on and off, change the volume, you name it I could do it. That's when I turned to robots. A complete army at my control. Tanks, fighter jets, helicopters, everything.
The military surrounded me, yelling "Put your hands on the ground! Do not move!" I just ignored them, my newfound fame was only just beginning. I could take revenge on the one things that took my daughter's life. The Oracle. The one superhero who thought it would be fun to torture a little girl, while her father watched, to see if his prediction came true. Well now, his robotic parts won't stand a chance. | |
[WP] in a future universe super powers are available for purchase. However it costs $250,000 and you cannot pick your power, it's decided based on personality and physical attributes. You have finally saved up enough money ... | When you're little the idea of being a "super hero" was something that just made sense. The only part that didn't, was how to be "super". So naturally you spend your childhood trying every which way to somehow become this person that you dream of every night... Only to realize that eating broccoli and saying please and thank you doesn't give you laser vision, or invisibility.
Well it wasn't until right after my freshman year of college that I finally understood...
These superpowers that I fantasized about, were never something you could simply wake up with. They were something you had to work for. Unless you just had $250,000 lying around, that is.
See you need to understand something about the world. Everything has a price. It's not always money though, sometimes things cost more than a few Benjamin's. As for super powers, those cost a whole lot more than $250,000. Yeah sure, maybe if that much money was pocket change for someone it might be a little easier. But for someone like me, someone who grew up without knowing what an Iphone was for the better half of my life, it most certainly cost more than that. I know, I know, some people aren't so fortunate as to even think about, thinking about buying a super power.
I guess that makes me the lucky one then, even though it took this long. Like I said, the cost of getting my powers was a lot more than 250 grand. By the time I got the last $500, I had worked nearly 100 plus jobs, nearly failed all my classes and almost drove away the last good friend I had. All of this time and effort and money just for a shot at becoming that guy that I dreamt about night after night.
Now don't worry, I am getting to the good part, if that's what you care about anyway. I'll try not to ramble, even though my mom says that rambling is a side effect of "That hyperactive, genius brain of yours!" as she tells me pretty much every day. Anyway, the day after I had finally saved up enough, I went to my room, counted every bill about a dozen times just to make sure, and then ran straight to the DSP. I say ran, but it was more like a half jog/half cramp walk. I was never one to get into running, or much of any exercise related activities for that matter. So as I gimped up to where I assumed was the line to "purchase" powers, based on the attire of those in the line (mostly kids my age all wearing S.E.C.T.O.R. uniforms), the thought of which power I was going to pick began running through my mind. I realized I hadn't really thought through this until just now. I was so set on simply getting the money that I forgot that there is more than one super power. Suddenly I felt my stomach drop. "What if I can't decide before I get in the room?" the line continued to move forward, seemingly faster than before. "Will they still take my money?", "Or would they give some horrible useless power?". My mind was racing with all sorts of questions, that I hadn't realized that I started rambling out loud. The kid in front of me spun around and when he saw what I looked like he apparently couldn't help but to starting laughing.
"Hey buddy, you sure you're in the right place?" he said while laughing. "I thought the trash was around ba-"
He was cut off by attendant at the desk shouting
"NEXT!"
As he was walking in the room he looked back and mouthed something I could only assume was some sort of crude name for my kind of people. By that I mean people who actually had to work to be in this line.
The thoughts were still eating away at me when I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Oh great I have to deal with another one of these guys" I thought to myself as I rolled my eyes and turned around.
"Look I don't want any trou-."
This time I was cut off, not by the attendant thankfully. But rather by the mere surprise of seeing a beautiful girl. I stood there just making an "uhhh" sound until she said,
"I'm sorry I couldn't help but overhear you talking to yourself earlier".
"Great" I thought "I already ruined my chance without even knowing". She smiled and continued,
"I just thought you'd like to know that you don't have to pick one".
What was she talking about? Of course you do. That's how purchases work.
"What do you mean?" I said after mustering the courage.
"I mean, it chooses for you."
I wanted to ask what "it" was but I got distracted by the sound of someone shouting. It was the guy that was in front of me. I can only assume that he was pleased with the power he got as he greeted his friends with cheers and laughter.
I was next.
The only other time I felt this nervous and excited all at once was when my dad taught me how to shoot a gun for the first time. But I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking about what that girl said. How I don't get to choose and how "it" chooses for me. I started to shake as I walked up to the desk. "What will 'it' pick for me?"
"Hello, name and date of birth please", the attendant asked.
"Oh uh, Callan. Callan Kade. And July 40th, 2979."
She looked at a computer screen and typed in my information then looked at me and said,
"And how will you be paying today, Mr. Kade?"
I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the folder, "Um, cash if that's alright."
She shook her head and I handed her my stack of bills, and waited patently as she put it in a machine to be counted. As I stood there watching the number slowly grow larger, my breathing started to return to normal. When the screen said $250,000, she turned to the computer, clicked the mouse a couple times and looked at me again.
"It seems everything is in order. Thank you for your purchase. You may step into the room now", she said without breaking eye contact or her smile.
The room was surprisingly warm, but still somehow the hairs on my neck stood up and my body shivered. There was one pillar in the middle of the room with a hole cut through it. I took my time walking up to it, somewhat expecting something to pop out of it. But nothing did. I was starting to doubt anything would happen, when suddenly, a small ring rose from the bottom side of the hole. As it came to a stop in the middle a blue light flickered on the inside of the ring. At this point I was standing right next to the pillar. I looked around as if some instructions might appear, but of course, none did. So naturally I began to examine the ring and as my fingers touched the metal a sharp tingling pulsed through my whole body. Before I could pull my hand away, my arm began to move through the ring on its own. Then as my forearm came to a stop directly under the blue light, the ring closed down on my arm and everything went white.
"I knew this would happen, but to someone from the outlands?"
There was an indistinct voice coming from all around me.
"What do we do?"
There was another voice. A womans. I still couldn't see but I could start to feel my arms and legs again. As I opened my eyes I saw something that I could only describe as, stary? Like space. But when I blinked it was gone. When my vision actually came to, I was in the room again. However this time there was no pillar, no ring. Just me and one other person. The girl that was behind me.
I wasn't sure what was going on at this point but as I stood up she came up to me.
"Are you okay? What happened? What did you see?"
I wasn't okay, my head felt like it exploded, I had no idea what happened, and the only thing I remember seeing is stars. All I could say was,
"What did I get?"
"You mean what power?" , she looked at me as if I killed someone.
"Yeah, what power? Something good?", I was starting to get annoyed with this whole situation.
"Well, Callan, you didn't exactly get a power."
"What?!", I took a step back "No power? I paid all that money for nothing? How is that possible? What is going on? I paid for a super power!", I would have kept going but the look on her faced concerned me.
"I am not sure what is going on. All I know is that this wasn't supposed to happen at least not to you." she looked to be on brink of tears.
"What wasn't supposed to happen? Me not getting a power?"
"No." , her head dropped.
"Then what?!"
"... You getting all of them."
__________________
Wow guys!! Thank you so much for all the feedback! Part II is on the way!!! (And maybe more...)
P.S. Thank you to whoever gave me Gold, totally was not expecting that!!!!
| The second I stepped out of the limo, an explosion of cheers and applause assailed me. I brushed my golden cape back and struck a pose, chest thrust out so that the silver star upon it caught the light of the sun. The photographers went berserk, and journalists began blabbering furiously into hovering camera-drones.
A red carpet had been rolled out on the sidewalk, all the way into the New Ascendance Center. Fans lined both sides of it, clutching posters of me and my pearly teeth, or squeaky figurines of my Herculean frame.
"What's my name?" I called.
"The Omega!" came the reply.
Flashing them a gigawatt smile, I began walking up the carpet. This was a momentous day for all of us. After spending years and millions of dollars cultivating my public persona, I would finally be able to give these people the hero they had always wanted.
"Mr. Omega, a word please?" one of the journalists said, hurrying alongside me. "Tell us how you feel."
I stopped to sign some autographs. "Amazing. I couldn't sleep last night. I'm not doing this for myself, you know. Look at our world today. Crime. Terrorism. These things are happening—hey, you're great too, keep it up, champ."
After posing for a photo with some teenage girls, I said, "I mean, are we any better off ever since humanity evolved? Now we have super people doing bad things. Hey, love you too. You want a kiss? Come here."
The taste of the woman's lipstick lingered on my mouth as I continued walking. "I believe it's my duty to look out for these people. You people," I said, turning to face the camera. Raising my voice, I said, "The world already has enough supers. What it needs is a hero. And that's why I'm here today!"
The response from the crowd was deafening; an old couple nearby actually broke down crying. I gave them all a final wave before entering the Center.
I felt like I'd entered another world; so silent it was indoors. Every surface was polished to shine, mostly in colors of gold and silver. A long counter ran across the hall, manned by workers dressed in navy blue uniforms. Behind them stood a massive statue of a man and woman with one arm interlinked, while the other hand was outstretched and clutching thunderbolts.
The sight of it made me frown. Not many people manifested powers of electricity, and the few who did invariably went bad. A little flutter of nervousness awoke in my belly. What if I gained lightning powers? Would it hurt my image? My PR team had a contingency prepared, but who knew how people would react?
Some of the journalists and my assistants had entered the building with me, but they stayed behind while I approached the counter.
"Good morning," said the chipper-looking man, whose name tag read "Jordan". "We've been expecting you, Mr. Omega."
I nodded and slid a card over the table to him. "Two-hundred and fifty grand. A fair price for greatness."
He gave me a polite nod, but said nothing otherwise as he tapped away on a holographic keyboard. While waiting, I flashed my team a smile and checked my reflection on the counter's surface.
After a minute, he drew a vial of yellow liquid from a dispenser and handed it to me. "Drink that in one go, and stand in front of this sensor, please."
My anticipation turned into joy, as though I'd ingested liquid sunshine. Unscrewing the cap, I poured the contents down and my throat and waited.
My heartbeat thumped the seconds away, but after two minutes, I opened my eyes and frowned at Jordan. "Hey, is it supposed to take this long?"
He jerked his thumb at the sensor. "Don't know. Try standing over there. Sometimes, we get duds."
"I paid a lot of money for this, you know," I said. "Better not screw it up."
"The sensor, please."
I rolled my eyes and did as he asked. The quicker we could get this over with, the better. My belly was starting to ache with hunger.
Jordan stared at the screen with a bored expression, while my entourage began muttering to each other. It hadn't been easy to get the journalists to come; the Omega wasn't a household name yet, and crime stories sold better. I needed this to work, to make this worth their time.
"Hurry up, man," I said. Maybe I should've had a burger before coming. Damn this stomach of mine.
Suddenly, Jordan gasped, and began typing furiously. At once, a group of men in black uniforms and armor charged out from a side room, guns aimed at me.
"What's the meaning of this?" I said.
"Don't move, sir," Jordan said. "We need you to remain calm."
"Remain calm?" I said. "Oh crap, am I about to turn into a pig? Is that why I'm so hungry?"
He mouthed the word "hungry", and held up a hand. "This is just a safety precaution, Mr. Omega. Ever since some people gained dangerous powers, we've had to—"
"Dangerous? What did you give me? Oh shit," I said, bending over. It felt like something had emptied my stomach completely. "Shit, it hurts."
"Take him down," Jordan said.
I threw my head back and screamed, and the void within me awakened. Immediately, the Center's employees began howling as their flesh was stripped away from their bodies, becoming dust-like and melting into my skin as though carried by miniature cyclones.
Within seconds, it was over. Nothing remained of them but their tattered clothing. Gulping air, I turned to look at my entourage, fearing the worst. Only a pile of cloth and bits of drone machinery remained. Even the furniture in the room had chunks missing, as though gouged out.
"What've I done? What the hell have I done?" I repeated as I stumbled out the entrance.
It was chaos outside; people running for their lives. The gnawing in my belly had been lessened, but it was far from sated. Before I realized what I was doing, I held up a hand and began draining the stragglers. Their bodies were ripped apart and absorbed into me, along with flecks of paint and cement.
My horror grew even as I fed, until at long last, contentment gushed through me. Somehow, I felt stronger, lighter; my forty years of age seemed to have halved. Power flickered at my fingertips, and when I pointed my hand at a nearby car, a jet of golden energy shot out and blew it to scraps.
"What have I become?" I whispered.
***
"You should've stayed home, Mr. Omega!" Clayton Danvers shouted, his body glowing with energy. "This is beyond you now! Not even your sick powers can stop me when I'm auuuuugh—"
I breathed deep as his life force seeped into me. In the three years since I'd first gained my ability, this feeling had become one of familiarity.
And as the terrorist died, the cheers around Times Square became louder. "Mr. Omega! Mr. Omega! It's the Omega!"
I smiled and waved. Yes, I'd grown quite comfortable with my place in the world.
***
*If you enjoyed this, do come to [The Nonsense Locker](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more stories.*
| |
[WP] in a future universe super powers are available for purchase. However it costs $250,000 and you cannot pick your power, it's decided based on personality and physical attributes. You have finally saved up enough money ... | "You've been awarded super empathy!"
The doctor was standing at the base of Alyssa's bed. Alyssa stared with her mouth almost half open in a sort of slack-jawed way, unsure if she had heard the man correctly.
"Did you just say that I was awarded empathy?"
"*Super* empathy," the doctor nodded. "Actually I developed that myself. I'm really proud of it. You get to go around making people have feelings for others!"
"That...is the worst superpower I've ever heard of. I wanted a *superpower*. Not some stupid head shrinking thing. I want my money back. I want this thing undone. I want a refund."
The doctor's smile faded. "Sorry. We can't do that," he said. Then he picked up the chart and swiftly left Alyssa's room. She turned on her side, murmuring to herself as she curled up into a ball. $250,000 gone just like that for some stupid *empathy*,
She was released from the hospital on the same day. She wandered home with her hands shoved into her pockets, still feeling the dejection that sat on her chest as she kicked at pebbles.
From far away she thought she could hear someone screaming help, but the only thing Alyssa could think was, *Nothing I can do. I don't have any* real *superpowers*.
"Please help!" the voice came again.
Alyssa ignored it. *Someone else will go.*
It was quite near to her. A woman was running desperately in her direction, her shirt stained with blood spatter. She ran straight to Alyssa, grabbing the girl's arm and tightening her grip.
"*Please* help me," the woman said. "There's a man. He killed my husband. At the convenience store. He's going to kill everyone in the store. I just escaped. I don't have a cellphone. Please, can you call the police? Please?"
Alyssa called the police. They said they would send the superheroes.
As though Alyssa's annoyance couldn't grow anymore.
The superheroes came and did their thing, but the criminal was long gone. His face, however, was all over the news. Alyssa stared at it as she ate dinner.
Then she went about her days. She ate food, went on runs, and was still bitter about losing so much money to gain such a stupid thing. It was on one of her runs that she saw him - the man from the television screen. *Were I a superhero I could just pin him down.* There was still a bitter edge to her thoughts.
*But maybe I can outrun him. Maybe I can still be useful.*
She jogged past him, and then stopped. She tapped him on the shoulder, which in hindsight seemed like maybe not the best idea.
"Hey," she said. "You're the guy who shot up the convenience store. You killed that man."
The man looked at her, and then laughed. He pushed aside the pocket of his coat to reveal a gun. "You going to do something about it?"
Something inside Alyssa snapped. "You know what? I have already had a really shitty week, so don't fucking threaten me with a gun, okay? I got that stupid surgery to get superpowers, and all they gave me was *empathy*. Other people get laser eyes and get to fly and super strength and they gave me freaking *empathy*. Do you know what that's like?"
The man had a confused expression on his face, but he had released his jacket and was looking at her.
"Not really," he said. "I don't have enough money for that surgery."
"Well it sucks. Sometimes I just feel like everything in my life sucks. My mom died last year, then my boyfriend dumped me and then I used my inheritance and my life's savings to get a superpower and *this* is what I end up with. And then I have to deal with you shooting up a convenience store and being asked to call the police and hearing that *the superheroes will come* —" Alyssa adopted a high pitched mocking voice. "Well you know what? *Fuck* the superheroes. And *fuck* you, dude. You just kill people? You just *do* that? That man had a family. That man had a wife who you've traumatized forever. And why? What did you even want?"
The man's posture had changed. He crossed his arms against his chest.
"I...I guess I didn't really think about that man's family."
"No," Alyssa cried. "No, you fucking didn't. And you aren't thinking of mine now. You realize you just threatened me with a gun? What, you're going to kill me just because *you're* a criminal? I have a life. I want to be happy. No one effing cares about Alyssa Richman. You just want to end that because you think I don't matter? I matter, okay? Everyone keeps screwing me over but I *matter*."
"You matter," the man repeated.
"And if you had any sense of decency at all you'd see the error of your ways and go turn yourself into police and take the punishment for your crime. Because seriously. Maybe you can't feel but those people had families. Those people had loved ones. Those people had hopes and dreams and so do I and you should be *ashamed.*"
Alyssa ran off, then. Her face was red from her anger, and she full out sprinted the last kilometer to her house before collapsing on her bed and screaming, punching the mattress before she began to cry.
She was still there when the phone rang.
"Alyssa Richman?"
She rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. "What? What do you want?"
"We just had a criminal walk into the precinct and tell us that he felt bad for his crimes and wanted to confess and apologize to the families. He said an Alyssa Richman made him see the error of his ways by making him feel some empathy."
Alyssa froze. "What?"
"Well we were calling because...well...we were wondering if you could come down to the station and tell us just *how* you managed to convince a murderer to turn himself in."
"Y-yeah. Yeah, sure. I just need to shower."
Alyssa hung up the phone and stared up at the ceiling. A strange feeling came over her.
*Huh,* she thought. *Maybe I can do some good. Maybe everyone just needs a little bit more empathy.* | The second I stepped out of the limo, an explosion of cheers and applause assailed me. I brushed my golden cape back and struck a pose, chest thrust out so that the silver star upon it caught the light of the sun. The photographers went berserk, and journalists began blabbering furiously into hovering camera-drones.
A red carpet had been rolled out on the sidewalk, all the way into the New Ascendance Center. Fans lined both sides of it, clutching posters of me and my pearly teeth, or squeaky figurines of my Herculean frame.
"What's my name?" I called.
"The Omega!" came the reply.
Flashing them a gigawatt smile, I began walking up the carpet. This was a momentous day for all of us. After spending years and millions of dollars cultivating my public persona, I would finally be able to give these people the hero they had always wanted.
"Mr. Omega, a word please?" one of the journalists said, hurrying alongside me. "Tell us how you feel."
I stopped to sign some autographs. "Amazing. I couldn't sleep last night. I'm not doing this for myself, you know. Look at our world today. Crime. Terrorism. These things are happening—hey, you're great too, keep it up, champ."
After posing for a photo with some teenage girls, I said, "I mean, are we any better off ever since humanity evolved? Now we have super people doing bad things. Hey, love you too. You want a kiss? Come here."
The taste of the woman's lipstick lingered on my mouth as I continued walking. "I believe it's my duty to look out for these people. You people," I said, turning to face the camera. Raising my voice, I said, "The world already has enough supers. What it needs is a hero. And that's why I'm here today!"
The response from the crowd was deafening; an old couple nearby actually broke down crying. I gave them all a final wave before entering the Center.
I felt like I'd entered another world; so silent it was indoors. Every surface was polished to shine, mostly in colors of gold and silver. A long counter ran across the hall, manned by workers dressed in navy blue uniforms. Behind them stood a massive statue of a man and woman with one arm interlinked, while the other hand was outstretched and clutching thunderbolts.
The sight of it made me frown. Not many people manifested powers of electricity, and the few who did invariably went bad. A little flutter of nervousness awoke in my belly. What if I gained lightning powers? Would it hurt my image? My PR team had a contingency prepared, but who knew how people would react?
Some of the journalists and my assistants had entered the building with me, but they stayed behind while I approached the counter.
"Good morning," said the chipper-looking man, whose name tag read "Jordan". "We've been expecting you, Mr. Omega."
I nodded and slid a card over the table to him. "Two-hundred and fifty grand. A fair price for greatness."
He gave me a polite nod, but said nothing otherwise as he tapped away on a holographic keyboard. While waiting, I flashed my team a smile and checked my reflection on the counter's surface.
After a minute, he drew a vial of yellow liquid from a dispenser and handed it to me. "Drink that in one go, and stand in front of this sensor, please."
My anticipation turned into joy, as though I'd ingested liquid sunshine. Unscrewing the cap, I poured the contents down and my throat and waited.
My heartbeat thumped the seconds away, but after two minutes, I opened my eyes and frowned at Jordan. "Hey, is it supposed to take this long?"
He jerked his thumb at the sensor. "Don't know. Try standing over there. Sometimes, we get duds."
"I paid a lot of money for this, you know," I said. "Better not screw it up."
"The sensor, please."
I rolled my eyes and did as he asked. The quicker we could get this over with, the better. My belly was starting to ache with hunger.
Jordan stared at the screen with a bored expression, while my entourage began muttering to each other. It hadn't been easy to get the journalists to come; the Omega wasn't a household name yet, and crime stories sold better. I needed this to work, to make this worth their time.
"Hurry up, man," I said. Maybe I should've had a burger before coming. Damn this stomach of mine.
Suddenly, Jordan gasped, and began typing furiously. At once, a group of men in black uniforms and armor charged out from a side room, guns aimed at me.
"What's the meaning of this?" I said.
"Don't move, sir," Jordan said. "We need you to remain calm."
"Remain calm?" I said. "Oh crap, am I about to turn into a pig? Is that why I'm so hungry?"
He mouthed the word "hungry", and held up a hand. "This is just a safety precaution, Mr. Omega. Ever since some people gained dangerous powers, we've had to—"
"Dangerous? What did you give me? Oh shit," I said, bending over. It felt like something had emptied my stomach completely. "Shit, it hurts."
"Take him down," Jordan said.
I threw my head back and screamed, and the void within me awakened. Immediately, the Center's employees began howling as their flesh was stripped away from their bodies, becoming dust-like and melting into my skin as though carried by miniature cyclones.
Within seconds, it was over. Nothing remained of them but their tattered clothing. Gulping air, I turned to look at my entourage, fearing the worst. Only a pile of cloth and bits of drone machinery remained. Even the furniture in the room had chunks missing, as though gouged out.
"What've I done? What the hell have I done?" I repeated as I stumbled out the entrance.
It was chaos outside; people running for their lives. The gnawing in my belly had been lessened, but it was far from sated. Before I realized what I was doing, I held up a hand and began draining the stragglers. Their bodies were ripped apart and absorbed into me, along with flecks of paint and cement.
My horror grew even as I fed, until at long last, contentment gushed through me. Somehow, I felt stronger, lighter; my forty years of age seemed to have halved. Power flickered at my fingertips, and when I pointed my hand at a nearby car, a jet of golden energy shot out and blew it to scraps.
"What have I become?" I whispered.
***
"You should've stayed home, Mr. Omega!" Clayton Danvers shouted, his body glowing with energy. "This is beyond you now! Not even your sick powers can stop me when I'm auuuuugh—"
I breathed deep as his life force seeped into me. In the three years since I'd first gained my ability, this feeling had become one of familiarity.
And as the terrorist died, the cheers around Times Square became louder. "Mr. Omega! Mr. Omega! It's the Omega!"
I smiled and waved. Yes, I'd grown quite comfortable with my place in the world.
***
*If you enjoyed this, do come to [The Nonsense Locker](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more stories.*
| |
[WP] In the near future, people spend more time in VR than they do outdoors. It's just better 'in there'... except when script kiddies swarm a server. | Jared shambled from his kitchen over to his VR recliner and pulled the connectors down to his temples, grumbling (as he frequently did) that he wished he made enough to buy a full life support VR casket so he didn't need to deal with things like kitchens, or bathrooms, or exercise.
Besides, with just a casket and hookups he'd take up next to no meatspace and save a metric fuckton on rent and groceries. Still, you needed credits to save credits, and he didn't have 'em.
And then he opened his eyes *inside*.
Having recently signed up for a fantasy medieval space, he found himself in a small town, in an alley next to a marketplace. The sky was blue and had just the right amount of cloud, the temperature was perfect, the smells pleasant. No bodily discomforts were felt. *Like life if life were fair*, he thought.
*Time to work*.
Working as an 'NPC' wasn't bad work if you could get it - you were paid to play around in VRspace, even if it was to support someone else's fantasy. He put his hand on the pommel of the sword resting at his hip and stepped out to hassle some adventurers. There were a couple just entering - you could tell because they had fancy armor that shone in the sunlight, and they didn't seem to have any particular job to do. Perhaps he could guide them to a wizard, healer, or thief to round out their party, or maybe even send them on a quest. Quests were good if the party succeeded - you got a real-world commission out of it.
Maybe he'd really luck out and they'd ask him along. That paid *really* well. *Don't get your hopes up, just keep the customers happy*, he thought to himself.
That's when *they* invaded. A dark circular cloud formed overhead. Ominous... until other clouds formed buttocks and two giant hands pulling at the edges of the dark cloud. And then a squire with white eyes walked into the market screaming, "Haxx0rs rule! Visit Haxx0r space!". And then he bifurcated, again and again... and soon there was nowhere to stand that wasn't already occupied by a screaming squire.
Damn sysadmins were falling behind on their duties, so with a reluctant sigh, Jared drew his sword and started cutting down the squires. Pointless, since they just spawned anew, but fighting off hacks was an unofficial part of his job - and a necessary one to do if he wanted to *keep* that job.
*No commissions today, I guess.*
* * *
And you might try */r/The_Evil_Within_WP*, where I store some of my prompt responses that got a decent amount of interest and upvotes. | freevr: So, are we doing this?
AliceAndAlison: Yeah, just gimme a sec to put on my headset.
noscopr22: It still boggles my mind we're literally living in that cyberpunk dystopia.
freevr: Hype
noscopr22: Uh...
AliceAndAlison: Okay, let's go.
Microsoft Home:
"So, you know, I'm slaying this dragon, when out of FUCKING NOWHERE my sister asks to join my game and it respawns with full health."
"Jesus."
"Yeah. I blocked her."
"I mean, my brother can be annoying too, but to join in the middle of a battle."
**An update is available for Microsoft Home. Install now?**
"Fuck off."
noscopr22: Found one!
AliceAndAlison: Yesss!
freevr: This is why you install security updates.
Microsoft Home:
"I don't feel like the clock really matches your wall, though. You know?"
"Holy shit nothing matches this wall! How about I just buy a new house? Only 15k credits. I motherfucking swear. The clock is fine."
"It's also kinda glitchy."
"What?"
"The time is off."
"Piece of shit."
freevr: plsplspls
AliceAndAlison: And...
AliceAndAlison: Yes!
freevr: every time
Microsoft Home:
"This clock had better work."
"HELLO. WE ARE LIBREREALITY, A GROUP DEDICATED TO FREEING YOU FROM THE CHAINS OF YOUR CORPORATE OVERLORDS..."
"holy shit it's one of these."
"Is there anything you can do tot make it shut upt?"
"Not really. You just gotta wait for it to finish and install your security updates."
"IN YOUR CURRENT VIRTUAL ENVIRONMENT, MICROSOFT CONTROLS YOUR ENTIRE WORLD..."
noscpor22: wow worked wonders u guys
freevr: I'm very willing to listen to alternatives, if you've got any ideas.
noscopr22: something other than ads pasted all over shit.
freevr: so no suggestions.
noscopr22: Fuck it i quit. | |
[WP] Did you really think you could change anything? | I could write you a book about what I see in your eyes.
I could compose you a symphony with the sweet notes of your laugh.
I could go blind from the radiance of your smile.
I would run in the rain with a flower and promise, if I could ring your doorbell and see you standing there wanting to see me.
I would hold you higher than the sky if it meant you got to have your head in the clouds for only a moment.
I would do anything to see you happy.
But you don't see that in me.
So why do I think I can change anything? | You're such an optimistic man. Or, were you? I don't know anymore. Lots of disappointment, right? Well, you were always a stubborn one, so I'd guess you're still somewhat optimistic, strangely enough. Most men would've despaired by now, but not you, though I wonder if you have seen the folly of your cause. An optimistic man who realizes what he wants is impossible? Is it possible for a man to exist in those two states?
It was never going to be like Mr. Smith Goes To Washington. I don't know why you expected that. The Senate is just a body made out of normal men, with their own allegiances to their own causes. Though you may speak and speech, the loyalty men have to their own preconceived notions of justice and equality is greater than anything in this world, especially in this little Washingtonian bubble and not even God Himself come down from Heaven can sway their beliefs. But still, it had some effect, right? You were seen as an idealist, you became popular, and some things did get through, but only some. It fell short of what you, the perennial firebrand, considered as change. It wasn't really change... but the little victories are what matter.
But it had another effect, you got some national spotlight. And indeed, lo and behold, you got picked for Veep. Congratulations. Did you like the campaign? When the press digged into your private life, harassed your family, took your statements out of context? I remember you lecturing the press, but that didn't go too well. Not soon after you being picked as Veep was considered a mistake and any influence you might've ever had with your nominee was gone. You were put out of the spotlight, hidden away. Still, you did well enough in the vicepresidential debates.
So, here we are. Your party won the election, congratulations. The president won't really tell you anything, won't really let you do anything. You're just... there. Do you miss your old spot in the Senate? I would. You cut ribbons now, but you desire so much more, I can feel it in my bones, I can see it in your eyes. Perhaps you could've, if you were a different man. Different men would've been able to get real change through, different men would've been able to shape the destinity of the United States. But you, you firebrand, you idealist, you fool, so convinced of his rightenousness, did you think YOU could change anything? No, the firebrands and the self-righteous are only despised by all, from the yuppie in California to the miner in West Virginia. Even the president didn't like you, so here you are, stuck.
The idealist and firebrand eventually runs into the ground in Washington, burning up. I hope you have learned that now. I hope pragmatism and compromise will guide you now, for God's sake. Learn of this well, for you will need it in your new position. Perhaps God took pity on you, or perhaps it was simply the boss' time, but here you are, with a second chance given to you to create the change you so desperately want. Don't throw it away.
The old president is dead, sir. Long live the new president! Now, make your adress to the nation, sir, and give 'em hell.
| |
Do whatever you want. Be creative. I'll give gold to the best WP | [WP] A mathematician disproved 1+1=2, which in turned caused worlwide chaos. | 1 plus 1 can never equal 2. It makes sense once it has been explained to you, so I have been told.
Think of the ingredients that make up your favourite meal - salt plus pepper, for instance. Clearly those 2 seasonings are more than just the sum of their parts. We had always known that, but with the comforting blanket of ignorance lying over us, we ignored the *why*.
How I proved this to the scientific community is much harder to explain. I took the number '1' down to the infinitesimal level, where it eventually reveals itself to be more than 1. It looked something like : 1.00000000000000001 , but with a few trillion more 0's between the 1s.
As you can see, 1 is never truly *just* 1.
The night I discovered this I had been staring at my computer monitor as usal, eating my favourite dish of rice and peas, watching it crunch the numbers as it had been doing for the last three months. The decimal 1 that eventually popped up on my computer screen shocked me to the marrow, and it changed *everything*.
The publication of my theroem, and its immediate acceptance by the scientific community caused utter public panic. Everything that our society was built on began to collapse, both physical and social.
For example, a married couple was no longer two people in love. It was two, and a *bit* people. The Pope was outraged! Marriage became a sin overnight.
The mathematics behind any engineering feat was now proven flawed. Everything, every single building, bridge and boat had to be torn down and rebuilt based on the new principle. Health and safety experts had worried it might all suddenly collapse.
Socks and pants and other traditionally paired items of clothing were given a little extra material to make up for their short comings. This actually wasn't so bad, and many men appreciated the extra room.
Perhaps worst of all though, was that all previously accepted scientific theories were now inaccurate. Physics, biology, medicine, chemistry and all the rest were thrown back into the dark ages. The only proven theory now, was mine.
So you can imagine how silly I felt when I ran through the numbers again, indulging my self in my own fantastical brilliance, and noticed that I had made a slight mistake the first time around. I really should have cleaned my monitor prior to running the calculations. I had at some point spilt a grain of rice on to my computer monitor and it, uh, it looked remarkably like a 1. An easy mistake to make.
The good news is 1 is indeed 1 once again. 1 plus 1 truly is 2.
At this point though, I think it might be best to keep this *tiny* mistake to myself.
| "Wait, no, you can't- This makes no sense!" Lena shouted, throwing a neatly bound, 400-page long book onto the ground. The binding held tight, lying down with its spine facing the ceiling. Calmly, Luce picked the book back up and dusted it, setting it aside on a table.
"Calm down." Luce said smoothly, hands snugly tugged away in his pockets. Lena was quite positively flipping out, as was the rest of the world outside.
"But, this defies all logical sense!" She protested, "1 plus 1 *must* equal 2! It's the very foundation of mathematics, everything, and I mean **EVERYTHING**, will collapse if this is wrong!"
"'Will'?" Luce raised his eyebrows, directing Lena's eyes out the window, "I'm afraid everything's already gone to hell. It's like someone finding out that gravity never existed, or that Carbon-12 was another compound entirely. When fundamentals collapse, so do the thousands of scientific advances we've made thus far. Overnight, we've turned back to the Stone Ages."
Frantically, Lena paced back to the massive book and flipped through, not even making an effort to examine the contents as she furiously blew through the pages, almost ripping the book in half, "There's got to be an error somewhere in this proof - got to be..."
"Ah, don't bother," Luce shrugged, wearing a boastful grin, "You should've been there, you know. Imagine - a room full of mathematicians... So much mockery, so much laughing... Then they saw the full proof, all of it, and their smiles all crashed onto the ground. Just about every mathematician and scientist had gone over this proof a dozen times now, it's now official - this proof is 100% correct."
Lena turned to Luce and snarled, "And you've just messed the world up."
"Oh, oh yes," Luce nodded nonchalantly, "Panic was one of the first things that set in. After all, I've just done the... What did they call it? 'Heretic'? Thing to do? I've broken them all. Every single scientific theory - overturned, and it was that simple."
Lena looked at Luce with great disdain, "Do you have any idea how much chaos is happening out there? You seem quite proud of what you've done to the world."
"As mathematicians and scientists, we must always have an obligation to uncover the truth behind the world's machinations," Luce answered, "That's right, Lena. The *truth*. It's certainly not my problem that it was just a bit too much to handle."
"Fine, then, destroyer," Lena mocked, "If you've so diligently proven 1 plus 1 is not 2, then what is it? What is the answer to the most basic problem?"
Luce smiled, the same smile that has been annoying Lena for the past half an hour, "I don't know."
"What do you mean, you don't know!? You-"
"I mean I don't know, simple as that," Luce explained, "You're acting like this has never happened before. As with any complicated solution, often proving something to be wrong is so much easier than producing the true answer. People were discovering large numbers are not primes long before they could find its factors. It's a similar case, here. I expect the coming years I shall spend finding the true answer will no doubt by a thrilling journey."
"Years!? We don't have that long!" Lena shouted, "Books are being burned, science has been toppled, *doomsayers* are the most common profession now! There is chaos on the streets, dissent in the schools, the system of education has collapsed, the market has gone dark, all the stocks turned to zeroes, the global economy is no more, all printed money are now worthless, and you want years!? You need to fix this mess, right now!"
"No, I don't," Luce shook his head, "I simply have no obligation to clean up their mess."
"And why not?"
"Because I have not done anything to the world," Luce smirked, "all I have done is point out a small lie that we've lived with for millenniums. Just a tiny, harmless, lie... We've lived under false pretences of what we've perceived to be the truth. But what had caused this chaos? Was it my discovery? No. My discovery had not magically altered the workings of the world. The Earth and Sun still rotates around each other, and neither of the two have any idea that anything had gone wrong. The Sun will still rise and set, it's just that our perceptions of it have changed."
"But people *do not like that*." Lena said, barking out each word.
"Of course not, people dislike chaos, but they seem to combat it by adding more chaos." Luce said, looking out the window to the terrifying redness outside coating the skies, "Although, they'll still need water, food, and they'll all pass away, some in this mess, some by the natural course of time. But as time moves on, so will we, won't we? If all we've known is false, then the true methods of the world are just another unknown for us to discover again."
Luce looked down at his wristwatch, waiting for the second hand to tick by twice.
"Hmm, I used to be able to tell how many seconds had gone by, but not anymore this time," Luce said calmly, "But the answer behind the premise won't be waiting for too long. Shall we get back to work?" |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Folklore calls us guardians. We are not though. We are leeches, we latch onto subconsciousness of a human and feed off of the emotions. When a host dies, we fade back to our own realm/dimension/universe/whatever to use this energy to multiply and prosper. The purer the emotions the more power they give us, and thus we gently steer the host into making good decisions in life (for our benefit).
Remember that ecstatic moment when you first tasted that strawberry ice-cream on a warm summer day? The combination of the sugar rush with the coldness of the ice-cream made you lose your wording and you started giggling. Probably not, you where only 2 at the time. But I remember your joy, that pure joy that only a kid can experience. That emotion powered me up and I reveled in the power and had just enough time to jiggle your mind to not take too large a bite. Brain freeze is not a nice experience for either of us.
I was there when my host first learned to read and write, I was there when he read his first sentence to his parents and felt his pride as they congratulate him.
I was there when he fell off his bike and snapped his arm. The pain was white hot and exhilarating. With a little push to his subconscious I made him remember his fathers teachings about first aid. He made a sling, and the relief and pride he felt felt wonderful to me.
I was there when he watched his favorite superhero movie on the big screen.
I was there when he got accepted into a prestigious university. Pushing him away from late night gaming sessions (for a cheap thrill) so that he would study payed off when the combined feeling of fear, anticipation, relief and joy washed over me when he read that acceptance letter.
I was there on his first date.
I was there when he lost his virginity. Such a beautiful moment for all of us. I winked at the other host's entity. It too knew that the moment was perfect.
I was there when he inevitably broke up with her. Sorrow doesn't feel good, for it is a draining emotion and over too fast (kinda like fast food) so I reminded him of all the great moments he had with her and that all his memories of the relation are positive ones. He grew stronger, and with him his emotions became purer.
And...
I was there when he died.
It was at a party with fellow students in his final year. Tired from studying he just hang around with his friends and one of them had heard of a party happening out of campus, I tried to dissuade him but in the end his friends managed to convince him.
The party was at someone's place in a shady part of town. Alcohol clouded both our senses and I cannot clearly recall how it lead to it. My host got into an argument about drugs with some lowlife at the party and apparently the dispute did not stick well with said lowlife.
At one point his drink got spiked and he was lead to a different area of the house. There on a filthy mattress he was forcefully given a cocktail of many different drugs. The door locked. The reaction was severe, he was flooded with mixed signals, he felt immeasurable joy and his body felt pleasure beyond belief. His mind however did not. As he lay on the ground writhing in ecstasy unable to control himself, his mind was in a clear state, he felt a mortal fear as all his senses told him it was wrong. Compare it to a locked in syndrome, only your body isn't just immobile, it's torturing you.
His stomach tried to expel whatever was wrong but all it did was make the host choke. He died in both ecstasy and agony and at that moment I felt power like no other. The energy was powerful but felt entirely wrong at the same time.
Only... I did not pass on to my own realm. I lingered. The link was severed and I hung there above his lifeless corpse. I felt. For the first time in my existence I felt. We are not ment to have feelings, we just feed on the feelings of others.
But I felt.
I felt sorrow, for losing my host at such a young age. There was so much potential, so much more that he could have done and achieve.
I felt... was that anger? No. It was more, I experienced rage. I. Felt. HATE. I wanted vengeance. And with this power that I had I could have it.
I reached out and found the lowlife. A guy in his late twenties, the kind of guy that deals drugs, steals, and has no empathy for others. I found him on the couch, smoking weed and trying to impress a group of girls 10 years younger than him. His entity was a shell of a being, being fed only the occasional 'pure emotion' when the lowlife relieved himself. All other emotions where artificial from drugs.
For the first time in the history of our kind I committed murder. I snuffed him out and severed his link. I felt joy as the lowlife suffered a tiny sting of utter loneliness.
I linked myself to the lowlife, but not to his subconsciousness, I linked to his entire mind. It was cramped and colorless. There where no ambitions, no dreams, no long term plans. All this scum wanted was to get high and "score bitches", there was a tiny ambition about something called 'street cred' but that would never materialize on purpose.
Linked to a subconsciousness I could only nudge a host. Now that I was linked to an entire mind and with the amount of power I had I could do anything. I could make him into a vegetable, or simply stop his heart, but no, I wanted him to suffer.
The first thing I did was to make his brain immune to drugs. He would never again feel the numbness of weed, the warmth of alcohol, the exhilaration of cocaine, and he would never smell the colors of acid. All that he had now was the cold hard reality of life. He sucked on his joint and puked as the smoke felt unfamiliar and disgusting in his mouth and lungs.
I also wanted him out of there. So I gave him agoraphobia, he instantly began to sweat as he realized he was surrounded by tens of people in a room with very loud music.
He stumbled out the house and limped to his car. As he sat there trying to comprehend what he felt I dragged out the memory of my former host and let it linger behind his every thought. As much as I wanted him to feel regret he was too much of a narcissist to feel empathy. So he drove off into the night instead, trying to outrun his fears. I was in his mind however stuck to him until his death, which would soon follow him.
As he started speeding I managed to burst several blood vessels in his brain causing a pain similar to a white hot knife being thrust in the eye. A cluster headache. I will admit that I enjoyed his screamed of pain. So I let it subside, I let him calm down and the moment he felt relaxed I did it again.
The lowlife lost control and swerved into oncoming traffic and I cursed as he managed to avoid the 20 ton truck, in doing so he did not avoid the barrier and crashed into it.
The engine of his car deflected the barrier and drove it through the drivers side windscreen, a shower of glass and sparks showered his face fractions of a second before the mangled steel plunged into his shoulder. The pain of a snapped arm was nothing compared to rusty serrated steel driving its way through flesh. Finally a pure emotion.
It didn't last long though, he passed out quickly after that. I wasn't having it and gave him another cluster headache. He woke up screaming from the pain in his body. He would die soon due to blood loss and I had to think of a way to not let him go too easy.
I noticed that the gas tank was punctured and it was porring down the side of the car.
I planted the idea in his subconsciousness that yes, a cigarette will help me him calm down.
As the lowlife pressed the car's lighter against the cigarette in his mouth I gave him another stab. He yelped and let the lighter fall... Right into the gasoline.
Flames licked the car and the interior caught fire quickly. He was trapped and burning. The fire seared his flesh and fused his clothes to his skin.
I quickly flashed the images of my former host in front of the lowlife's eyes. The last thing he would see would be of him and the last feeling (besides pain and fear) would be regret.
He died screaming and gurgling. And as his mind faded so did I. There was no afterlife for me, no return to my realm, I simply ceased to exist. We might not be actual "guardians", but for once, I was an Avenger. My host would have liked that. | Holy carp I enjoyed reading this. Spare moment at work and decided to read this aloud, voice acting for an unknown entity going through a mixture of different emotions is not as easy as I thought.
Thank you for this beautiful short story, nicely done! +10 | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | If I knew it was the last few breaths I had left, I would have just sat there and panted for the next 10 seconds of my life. But fight or flight, that's how it works when panic sets in. I knew there was no escaping him this time. Just didn't know exactly what would happen at the moment when he does catch me. Oh what did I do what did I do... Running away from a Ford Escalade in unpatrolled desert late into the night should have given me a clue as to my fate, but you never can really give up, can you? But in the end it was just him ramming into me and ME flying into the air and cracking my head open on a rock. Nothing fancy.
Same can be said about my guardian. He exists, which is cool but he hasn't done much guarding has he. As far as I understand from otherworldly knowledge, he's been hiding my entire life, watching quietly as I endured bullying in high school, repeated muggings and now That. So basically my death was the result of prolonged game of cat and mouse. I died without the pleasure of knowing my deliverer. On January 8 2016, I receive a text which said, "Fast as wind though you may be, Harken, Harken, still not safe you see!". This might have set off a slight case of alarm bells for anyone else, but since I thoroughly believed in my insignificance, I thought it was one of my homies' bad rap compositions. So I reply with "Wazzup, nice rhymes man!" Ya I know I deserved to die for that alone.
Since then every day for three days no matter where I was at 1am, I found myself in the trunk of the Escalade. It's quite spacious I concede but smells kinda weird. So he lets my blindfolded self off at seemingly random locales and I'm free to scream and run away until I'm out of his headlights. Staying at a friend's house, police protection, nothing helped. I am back running every night for three nights.
So this 'guardian' will supposedly 'avenge' me. I mean, what good does that do? Found him rather quickly though......
Want to read more? This is my first post on WP so will if you guys like it. | Holy carp I enjoyed reading this. Spare moment at work and decided to read this aloud, voice acting for an unknown entity going through a mixture of different emotions is not as easy as I thought.
Thank you for this beautiful short story, nicely done! +10 | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | *There couldn't possibly have been a witness. I had done everything I needed to. The duct tape was tight, rope was tight. Even if the drugs hadn't taken hold, she had no way of letting anyone know. This just doesn't make sense.* Jonathan stood in his kitchen, staring at the red liquid on the table. "I know, and I'm coming." He leaned closer and the all too familiar metallic smell of blood wafted into his nostrils. He enjoyed it at first, reminding him of his first kill. But this wasn't it at all- he was afraid. This is the second message he had found in blood since he killed her. Someone was coming after him.
The next day, Jonathan woke up covered in sweat. He had a dream, a nightmare really. All of his victims were chasing him, all armed with the same filet knife he had used on them. He was soaked head to toe in perspiration. *Why is this happening? Those sluts, those whores they had it coming! They deserved it.* The smell of blood wafted into his bedroom sending chills down his spine. Jonathan crept out of bed, his hands trembling as it gripped a baseball bat. He turned the corner to the living room and the third message awaited him. "No one deserves what you did, Jonathan."
He flew into a frenzy. He had to get out of town, now. Go to Canada or something. *I knew that it was a bad idea after I saw that black cat. Probably walked under a ladder too.* Jonathan threw clothes and his valuables into a duffle bag, retrieved the filet knife from under his bed to place in the bag. Again, metal filled the air as blood oozed from the handle of the knife. "AUUGH!" Jonathan dropped the knife and rushed out of the apartment screaming bloody murder. He scaled the stairs of his basement apartment and flew out the foyer door, gasping for air. All he could think about was the girls hair, her screams and her eyes closing as he plunge the knife into her heart. Then, he felt something brush across his bare leg.
It was the black cat. He had seen it in the woods where he buried them. He saw it on his way home from work yesterday. And last night when he went out for a smoke it crossed the parking lot. Jonathan stared in amazement. The cat met his gaze. Instead of the usual yellow eyes with black almonds the cats eyes were completely black. Jonathan began to recoil ad tripped as it started to change.
The cat crew black,leathery skin and its bones elongated with a horrifying creaking noise. It's face grew human and gaunt, till as black as night. The cat morphed into a lumbering monstrosity, 7 feet tall. It's skin clung to its bones and its joints creaked as it stepped closer and closer to Jonathan. The creature's mannequin face stared deep into him.
"Why did you do it Jonathan?"
"I didn't do anything, I swear! Please for the love of God, don't kill me!"
"It's too late Jonathan."
Jonathan felt the filet knife in his hand, oozing with blood again. The creature knelt down and stared deep into Jonathan's eyes as it gripped his wrist. Jonathan was powerless. The life left his arms and his face drained of color as the creature plunged his own knife into his chest. Over and over again, he felt the blood cut through his flesh. With a dying gurgle Jonathan finally collapsed, the knife embedded in his torso.
When the police arrived, the doorman said that he had seen it all. Jonathan emerged from his home, screaming with a filet knife in hand. He stabbed himself bet and over again as he fell to the ground. The doorman noted that there was a cat there that walked by him in the middle of his episode. The police shrugged it off and conducted a search of Jonathan's apartment as found the evidence. The families were notified and brought closure to a tortured few months during his rampage.
Jonathan was buried, with his mother and sister in attendance. Rachel, his most recent victim, was exhumed from her shallow grave and put to rest. The community poured out to pay their respects. In attendance was a curious black cat, who sat at the edge of her tombstone. | Holy carp I enjoyed reading this. Spare moment at work and decided to read this aloud, voice acting for an unknown entity going through a mixture of different emotions is not as easy as I thought.
Thank you for this beautiful short story, nicely done! +10 | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | I am dead. But I can't be. I can still think. But it must be true. As I look down on myself from a few feet up, I am unrecognizable. A bloody mess with organs sprawled on the ground. And something else. A rat must have gotten into my body, as it seems to be writhing as it lies on the ground. A terrifying noise rings through the air. And a bug flies out of my carcass. A bug couldn't have jostled my body so much. There is no way! I black out. Maybe it was a dream. But when I wake up, I am still floating in midair. And watching the bug fly to the door of my murderer's house. My girlfriend. She killed me, being a black widow, as she told me before she did it, she hated men,but got close to them in order to kill them afterwards. My consciousness transported into the house, along with the flying bug, which landed on my girlfri- wait, ex's lap, and changed into a rat. She screamed, which for some reason brought my soul joy. She hated rats. And locusts. That's what it was when it was a bug. I wish I had some popcorn. The creature changed into a wolf. My killer screamed in fear. She didn't hate wolves, but having a snarling one in your house would be unpleasant. The doorbell rang. As the man stepped inside, I realized who it was. Rico Sanchez. He was my buddy in college. And when he heard her scream, he wrapped his arm around her. The creature had turned itself into a spider. My ex pointed in fear.
"A wo-w-w-" Clearly, from my mindset, I knew she was saying wolf, but Rico, an entomologist, did not.
"It's just a spider, dear. And it's not a widow spider either."
My ex would be a widow. There was a knife in her pocket, presumably to kill Rico. It would take a long time to clean the blood out of her carpet. But I( had forgotten about the tiger. Or I guess what is now a tiger. It snarled, and she screamed, but Rico must have still thought it was a spider.
"It's just an arachnid, dear." The killer took the knife out of her pocket and slashed at the tiger. It just passed through the strange creature. but the true terror was on Rico's face. This was getting good.
"W-why do you have a knife, dear?"
'Why do you think?" And as she stabbed at the poor man, the tiger lunged at her. It dissipated into mist, but the black widow started clutching her chest. Rico panted in relief as the room started to get darker. And I sighed with the same relief as I myself dissipated into dust.
Edit: Spelling and grammar
| Holy carp I enjoyed reading this. Spare moment at work and decided to read this aloud, voice acting for an unknown entity going through a mixture of different emotions is not as easy as I thought.
Thank you for this beautiful short story, nicely done! +10 | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | [Okay, so this might turn out to be a combination of a little silly and a little dark. It's my first submission, sorry for any major errors or stupid mistakes. I hope you enjoy it.]
It started with a murder. A lot of stories do, and this one went as a lot of murders do. One man stopped another in a dark alley and demanded all of his money. There was a fight and the second man never left that alley alive. The murderer thought he'd gotten away with it, but then strange things started happening.
A week after the murder, the guilty man was walking down the street. He finally felt more relaxed, and wasn't looking over his shoulder every two seconds. As he moved down the side walk, he started catching strange glimpses out of the corner of his eye. He would catch a flash of black and white, but every time he looked it was just the regular pedestrians. Shaking his head, the murderer kept walking. Maybe he wasn't quite over it yet.
A few days later he was at the bank. While waiting in line, the man caught sight of something strange. There was a *penguin* in one of the offices! He grabbed his phone, but when he went to take a picture, there was just a man giving him a funny look. Rubbing his eyes, he looked again and the penguin was back! Grabbing the shoulder of the man next to him, the murderer pointed wordlessly. Before they turned back though, the penguin was gone again. The second man shook the murderer's hand off of his shoulder and hurried to a different line. The murderer shoved his hands in his pockets and ducked his head, staring at the floor.
...
They were everywhere. The murderer was sure of it. No matter where he went he saw the damned *penguins!* At the grocery store in the freezer section, behind him on the streets, once in his apartment! He couldn't escape the birds and it was playing havoc with his mind. No one else ever saw them. The murderer would try to point them out, tried to get pictures, but they were always gone. He couldn't take it anymore. Holding the gun to his head, a suicide note in hand, telling the world what he had done and what he had scene, he pulled the trigger.
On the roof, a lone penguin smiled. The expression didn't fit the normally inexpressive face. Slowly, the face changed, and soon something else was standing in it's place. There was a sense of *wrongness* to the new occupant. Anyone nearby suddenly felt chilled, and hurried on their way, heads down and eyes searching to and fro with paranoid flickering. The thing had done it's job, and had guarded the man it had been given throughout his life. It had also avenged him, after it's death. The naagloshii chuckled to itself, and then a small bird left the roof top and flew towards the forests to the north.
[Thanks for reading if you got this far! I based my story on my favorite animal, a penguin, and one of the monsters that has affected me the most in literature, the Naagloshii. I first read of it in the [Dresden Files](http://dresdenfiles.wikia.com/wiki/Naagloshii) and have done a little more research into the original Native American legend of the [Skin-Walkers.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skin-walker) If you have any comments or criticism I'd be happy to hear them as it is my first submission, as I mentioned. Have a great day!] | Holy carp I enjoyed reading this. Spare moment at work and decided to read this aloud, voice acting for an unknown entity going through a mixture of different emotions is not as easy as I thought.
Thank you for this beautiful short story, nicely done! +10 | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Thomas ran a shaking hand through his wet hair. He picked up the glass from the table, spilling onto his sleeve. He put the glass back on the table, his throat too tight to drink.
The room was silent. He should get a clock, he thought suddenly. A real old-fashioned one, the kind with slender hands and a slow, steady tick to measure the passing of time. *Tick, tick* everything is fine *tick, tick* the world is still turning *tick, tick* see? it's ok.
*Tick, tick.* His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he jerked backwards. He *had* heard it this time. Not the slow, steady, heavy march of time ticking; the sharp, scraping tick of pins on wood.
"*AUWK!*"
"*FUCK!*"
Not pins on wood. His heart clattered against his ribcage. Claws on wood. Or talons? Isn't it talons when they're on a bird? Fuck. There was a bird in the window. The open window. He didn't remember opening the window. But then, he didn't remember a lot of things that had happened after... before he'd come to in the shower, watching the last of the pink trails eddying around his feet and circling the drain...
"*Auwk!*" The bird repeated. Thomas didn't know much about birds, but you didn't need to know that much to realize it was obviously a parrot, bright green with a yellow and blue head. It doubled over, rubbing its beak against the windowsill, *tick, tick.* So, not its claws, or talons, or whatever, after all.
He laughed to ease the pressure in his chest. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He tried to remember if anyone in the building had a parrot, but he wasn't close with his neighbors. In any case, parrots are expensive, and he still needed money. He got up slowly.
The parrot shuffled and muttered like a cranky old man, turning its head to fix him with a reproachful glare.
"Pretty bird," he warbled, "c'mere, pretty bird."
"*Who's there?*" the parrot answered, in a high, frail voice that froze Thomas in his tracks. "*Who's there? I'm calling the police!*"
Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but he couldn't understand how. He felt cold as ice, dry as a desert. Where did it come from?
"*Open the fucking safe!*" *His* voice this time, but tinny, like an old recording. The parrot stared at him, as if daring him to answer.
"You weren't there," he croaked dumbly. He would have remembered. He would have- there just wasn't. Only the old man, and him. And then just him. *He would have remembered.*
The parrot clicked its beak rapidly and bobbed its head, like it was laughing at him. "*I'm calling the police!*"
"You can't," his face felt numb and he wasn't sure if he had said that, or if it was the parrot again. It clicked its beak again, ruffling its bright feathers.
"*Open the fucking safe!*" Thomas said again, but definitely not from his mouth this time. "*I'll fucking kill you if you don't open the fucking safe!*"
Thomas lunged. The parrot, beak clattering like laughter, evaded him with ease and settled to perch on the railing of the rusted fire escape. It bobbed up and down, dancing spitefully out of reach.
"*I'm calling the police!*" It taunted, then wolf-whistled.
"I'll fucking kill you," Thomas, the real Thomas, hissed for the second time that night. The window was a tight squeeze - it was an old building and the windows were huge, but so was Thomas - and he got stuck at the shoulders. The parrot turned its rainbow head from side to side, watching him struggle.
"Oh, fuck this," he panted, adrenaline or anger or whatever it was driving him draining rapidly away. He glared at the parrot. "Nobody's gonna listen to a stupid bird."
The parrot ruffled its feathers and fixed a sharp, red eye on Thomas' sweaty face. Its pupil flashed, flaring up huge and black before shrinking to a vengeful pinprick.
"*Fuck!*" it repeated softly, "*There's nothing in the safe!*"
Thomas swore. He lunged. He made it through the window. His full weight slammed into the railing of the fire escape. It was an old building, and Thomas was huge. Metal screamed in protest (like the old man hadn't, just a short, startled bark and a gurgling wheeze) followed by the crack of a bolt popping free of brick (that was scratched and marked around the bolt like it had been methodically scraped away by something sharp) followed by another scream, a real one this time, as the fire escape jolted just enough for Thomas to lose his balance.
Followed, after some time, by a wet, crunching thump.
The parrot perched on the tilted fire escape railing and ruffled its brightly-colored feathers, chuckling.
| Holy carp I enjoyed reading this. Spare moment at work and decided to read this aloud, voice acting for an unknown entity going through a mixture of different emotions is not as easy as I thought.
Thank you for this beautiful short story, nicely done! +10 | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | I'm a Guardian. And I've just failed my charge. Watching her die helpless, all alone as she took her last breath. I could do nothing as the knife plunged into her. I was helpless then. No longer. It's time I avenged her.
To hunt a man and kill him, one must render him defenseless. I'm an immaterial being, unable to affect the material world nor am I able to influence it directly. So I go directly to his Guardian.
I request his Guardian to stand aside as I enact my revenge. A formality, really. No Guardian would ever willingly let their charge come to harm while they're around. My request denied I ready my plan.
A simple distraction, a trap set and ready. We cannot touch the material, but the intangible? That's our purview. Our weakness and now, my weapon and strength. As he lay dreaming that night, I let lose a few stray nightmares. Nothing strong, not horrific. Just enough to get his Guardian to dispatch them away from him.
I quickly dropped a seed of mania in his mind. Small and insignificant now, but in the rich and fertile fields of his mind, it will grow. I cover it and whisper her name. He'll remember her.
Every night I let lose ever bigger nightmares. And every night his Guardian runs ragged trying to contain them all. Most are contained. And every night I sow more seeds. Discord, doubt, insecurity, fear. I sow and they take root in his mind. By day, his Guardian clears them all.
It doesn't work. Seeds of horror are like weeds. They cling on to you, like burr and grow quickly. Much too quickly. It can't be undone. And so I watch. I watch as madness takes over. And I watch in satisfaction as he steps over the edge and plummets over the edge of the building.
It's time. My charge is dead. My revenge fulfilled. And it's now time for me to receive my punishment. I can feel the call. I think maybe it'll hurt. But that's alright. It was worth it. I smile as I step lightly into the light. | Holy carp I enjoyed reading this. Spare moment at work and decided to read this aloud, voice acting for an unknown entity going through a mixture of different emotions is not as easy as I thought.
Thank you for this beautiful short story, nicely done! +10 | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Vince stood from his kneeling position, patting his hands off on his coat. Before him was a positively destroyed wall, and another beyond it, and another...
Beyond all of those broken walls was a corpse, laying in the living room of one of the nearby ground-floor apartments. Policemen swarmed the building, as did confused and sometimes irate residents, wondering why there were new holes leading through their apartments.
"What's your prognosis, detective?"
Vince turned his head, glancing toward his female counterpart- a younger woman, whose exemplary performance in the academy and later on the street let her climb the ranks of the local PD almost effortlessly.
"I said-"
"Power-type guardian, that much is for sure," Vince said. "No other type could bust through this many walls. And we're dealing with one that is very, very angry. The confusing thing is..." He slowly kneeled again, looking over some of the debris. "How is it running around when the host is six feet under?"
"It doesn't seem that far-fetched, Vince," Katrina said. She moved to stand next to him, idly looking over the damage. "... They exist, after all. What's to say one couldn't just roam around?" The concept of a 'hidden' guardian didn't last all that long, in modern society. The phenomenon was documented and researched to the point where it was *almost* common knowledge.
"Here's the thing, Katrina. Guardians are supposed to *die* when the host dies. They aren't supposed to just walk around like the hero of some action flick." He stood again, putting his hands in his pockets. "But we've got no idea what our perp looks like."
"'Perp'? You're calling the guardian a 'perp', now?"
"Take a look around, Kat. We've got ten busted up walls, one dead body, and not a whole lotta answers."
---
Something quick because I'm likely gonna be busy all day. Sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted, but the first thing my mind went to was [JJBA](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/JoJo%27s_Bizarre_Adventure) themes. | Holy carp I enjoyed reading this. Spare moment at work and decided to read this aloud, voice acting for an unknown entity going through a mixture of different emotions is not as easy as I thought.
Thank you for this beautiful short story, nicely done! +10 | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | After what can only be described as my soul leaving my body, watching the doctors give up not long after and declare me dead, I noticed the cockroach.
There was nothing obviously different about the cockroach, but somehow I knew that the cockroach was there for me. I think it was the fact that it stood on it's hindmost legs, looked directly at me (the floating me, not the dead body me), and started waving everything else in a deliberate "follow me" gesture.
All of this, being exceedingly surreal, yet having no other pressing needs at the moment, I gave him a little wave. At that he dropped down to all sixes and scurried into a gap between the floor and wall.
I rushed to follow, I didn't want to lose him, and suddenly found myself in the middle of the wall. Part of me back in the room with my body, the other part in a hallway, people scurrying to and fro, on whatever it is that the living still need to do.
I notice my wife, or who used to be my wife, until moments ago, who may or may not still be my wife, all things considered, sitting in a chair, a look of worry, tears on her face. I almost feel like I need to touch her, but it passes. Apparently, the dead forget, quickly.
I turn to look for the cockroach. I don't see him, but somehow, I know where he is. He's moving quickly. Much quicker than any cockroach I knew in life. Not that I knew any. Most cockroaches I ever saw I simply squished, or ignored. I hope he doesn't hold that against me. Maybe he's leading me to a ghostly doom, in revenge of his fallen comrades.
I don't dwell on this. As a matter of fact, I find myself moving much quicker than I expected. For a brief instant, I feel surprise and shock, but being dead, it quickly passes. I find I don't care about that, either.
The cockroach has entered a house. It's unfamiliar to me, I'm pretty sure I've never been there before, yet at the same time, I feel drawn to it. I think I should stop a moment, but a sensation, not unlike a nicotine fit (from the days I smoked), compels me forward, and I find myself hovering next to a sleeping woman, the cockroach sitting on her pillow by her head.
I know this woman. The woman that shot me. Already, I don't remember much of my life. I think I mentioned, the dead don't care, but her...I remember. I don't remember any details, just her, the gun, the shot, the pain...
Suddenly, another cockroach appears. This one is normal, but my cockroach, appears to communicate with it. With that, the cockroach (the normal one) turns, and crawls into the ear of the sleeping woman.
I feel glee. With anticipation, I wait to see the result. I don't know how long I waited. A moment, an hour, time has no meaning, and I don't feel the least bit bored or impatient.
Her eyes flutter open, tears spring to her eyes, and in apparent agony, shoves a finger in the ear the cockroach crawled into. She sits up, and the cockroach falls out and scurries away.
I feel disappointed that her pain was so short lived.
After a moment, I see her laying in her bed again, sleeping. It's been an hour, or maybe a day, I don't know. The cockroach (my cockroach) is next to her head on the pillow again, and not long after, another cockroach appears, and crawls into her ear.
The scene repeats, over and over, sometimes with small differences, so I know that each time this happens, it's a new event, a new experience of agony for her, and each time, I feel unrestrained glee. Sleeping in her bed, sitting on her couch, driving in her car, in church, at the store, even during sex, my cockroach has directed some other cockroach to burrow into her ear. Sometimes the live cockroach escapes...sometimes they don't, but there's no shortage of cockroaches, and my cockroach never seems to tire.
Frankly, neither do I.
| Holy carp I enjoyed reading this. Spare moment at work and decided to read this aloud, voice acting for an unknown entity going through a mixture of different emotions is not as easy as I thought.
Thank you for this beautiful short story, nicely done! +10 | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | I never thought I’d see a Guardian at such a young age. We always learnt at school that killing people was bad, and if you killed someone, you were cursed by the victim’s Guardian. I guess nobody knew that you were able to see your Guardian after you were murdered.
My Guardian told me that it was normal for murdered souls to still hang around Earth because of lingering regret. I’m not sure I had any lingering regrets though. Maybe not telling my mom I love her for the last time, or being there to protect her. My father was violent and always hit my mom or me. I felt it was unjust knowing my mother had to face Father’s wrath alone.
After my death, I followed my Guardian around while he stalked my killer. My father stomped down the front steps on his way to work, a heavy air hanging around him. His hair was unkempt and his tie loose. Mom looked more frazzled than usual as she rushed after him to straighten his tie and comb his hair. He slapped her hands away. She brought her hand to her chest before turning back indoors and slamming the door behind her. My father sighed heavily and looked up briefly to acknowledge my neighbour, Mr. Gage.
Father drove off to work. My Guardian and I stayed behind, as usual, to observe Mr. Gage. He was the one who killed me, my Guardian told me.
I was shocked. Mr. Gage moved into the neighbourhood two years ago. Although he had no children of his own, he lived with his dog and two cats.
Guardians are silent, but they speak through our minds. They don’t really have a physical form, they mostly look like shadows and wisps. They are the things that people think they see out of the corner of their eye, only when you look for it, you can’t see it.
Mr. Gage watched my house for a few minutes while pretending to prune his hedge. We followed when he went back inside the house. He was preparing to move out, feigning that he was offered a job in another state.
My Guardian never told me how I died, apparently it was too gruesome for a 13 year old boy to know. I didn’t really want to know anyway.
As Mr. Gage packs his belongings, a piece of paper flutter to the ground. Mr. Gage looks at the paper and he immediately looks for something. I catch a look at the paper. It’s a permission slip for a school trip my class was planning. He finds what he was looking for - a lighter - and sets the paper alight.
Mr. Gage packs his things faster. He freezes when the doorbell rings. It’s mom.
She’s brought over some potato salad because there was too much for just her and my father. Mr. Gage tells mom that he has something for her too and hands over a box. Mom opens it. It’s some of my toys that I thought were lost but were actually in Mr. Gage’s yard. There a few of my other belongings too.
Mom tears up and her hand trembles as she picks up one of the toys. She sifts through the box and something catches her eye. “How did you get this?” she demands.
Mr. Gage stiffens. Mom holds up a piece of paper.
“I’m not sure,” he begins cautiously, “maybe it flew over the fence too.”
Mom’s bottom lip trembles. “This is my son’s permission slip that was issued on the day he was murdered. He didn’t come home with this slip!”
Mr. Gage is white as a sheet and visibly sweating on his upper lip. “It’s all because of your husband!”
Mom looks as shocked as Mr. Gage.
“Your husband killed my son! He hit my dear boy with that filthy car of his and ran off!” Mr. Gage’s voice broke.
Mom doesn’t say anything, and just stands in the doorway with her mouth agape.
“I’m calling the police,” Mom says in a calm voice after a minute. “This will have your fingerprints on it.”
“Wait- please- I can explain!” Mr. Gage exclaims. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a pocket knife. He lunges towards mom. I yell to warn her but she can’t hear me.
Mom screams. Mr. Gage looks down. She’s not hurt. He’s holding a toy knife, the ones that go back in when you stab someone.
Mom runs off while Mr. Gage looks defeated.
“It’s easy to make someone think they see what they want to see,” my Guardian tells me in my head, “or don’t want to see.”
“I put a similar curse on him that was put on your father,” my Guardian adds but doesn’t further explain.
I find out later in my father’s and Mr. Gage’s testimonies. Mr. Gage’s son was murdered in an unsolved hit-and-run. Mr. Gage discovered the driver was my father. He researched on ways to get back at him, not knowing my father was reliving his guilt every day.
My father acknowledged his domestic abuse problem after being shown photos of mom’s bruises and her medical reports. He also admitted he abused me too, only because he hated the fact that I was growing up to look more and more like the boy he killed in that hit-and-run. He hated looking at me, to be reminded of his guilt. He hated my mother for giving birth to a child who looked just like the boy he killed.
When I looked at the photo of Mr. Gage’s son, he looked nothing like me. I remembered what my Guardian told me earlier.
Although it was nice knowing my murderer had been caught, I still wanted to say goodbye to mom.
My Guardian couldn’t do anything to help me since he could only help in haunting the murderer. My Guardian would still continue to haunt Mr. Gage for the rest of his life.
I didn’t have to follow my Guardian around so I stayed with mom. She was going through the box that Mr. Gage gave her, smiling as she touched each toy. She gasped when she came to an envelope addressed to her.
I remembered writing it when I was 11 for Mother’s Day. I wanted to post it through the mail so I had written the address and stamped it. I look now to find that I had written Mr. Gage’s address by mistake. She carefully opened it, her eyes brimming with tears.
Inside was a short letter telling her how thankful I was to have her as a mom, and how much I love her. There was also a small plastic ring inside, one of those freebie’s inside candy packets.
She gave a tearful smile and slid the ring on her pinky finger. | Holy carp I enjoyed reading this. Spare moment at work and decided to read this aloud, voice acting for an unknown entity going through a mixture of different emotions is not as easy as I thought.
Thank you for this beautiful short story, nicely done! +10 | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Twenty five years.
Twenty five years she laughed. She lived. She was kind. Certainly far from perfect, but she was kind.
Twenty five years. And there were so many more ahead. There should have been.
But he made a decision.
I've been watching him. I watched him that morning. That cool, crisp morning when she'd been on her way to work. Coffee in one hand, car keys in the other.
I watched him catch her off guard. Watched him pin her, watched her struggle. Watched her weep and scream when he...
I watched her crumble to the ground. I watched him abandon her battered body.
I watched red trickle into the grass. Watched it drip onto the concrete.
He used to watch her. And now I'm watching him.
It's late. Not beyond midnight, but close.
The bar's door swings open. Music and laughter pours out into the street. Arguments, cigarette smoke.
Three people step out. A woman and two men. She's homely looking with long brown hair. She seems a bit out of sorts. One man is tall, his dark hair speckled with hints of white.
And the third..
The man and woman say goodbye to the third. They leave. The third goes in another direction.
And I'm watching him.
It's quiet. The sounds from the bar are dying out. Aside from the occasional hum of traffic or a distant siren, it's quiet.
He has a little sway to his steps. A little stumble.
I catch the scent of alcohol wafting from him.
He pauses. I halt.
A slow turn and he's facing the wall, gently tugging his zipper down. It's urgent, I'd wager.
He stands there, swaying just a little. Eyes closed and a happy hum rumbling past his lips. It's complimented by a trickling drip.
He zips. He turns.
And I'm there.
He opens his eyes. He screams, a terrible bellow.
I silence him, a hand over his mouth like his had been on hers.
He struggles like she had. He weeps and pleads like she had.
"Twenty five years I watched her."
His red, bleary eyes widen as he stares at me. He trembles.
"And now I've been watching you." | Holy carp I enjoyed reading this. Spare moment at work and decided to read this aloud, voice acting for an unknown entity going through a mixture of different emotions is not as easy as I thought.
Thank you for this beautiful short story, nicely done! +10 | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | "Where the hell are the Cheetos?"
These were not the first words I expected to hear in the afterlife. This is the afterlife, right?
Yeah, that's my severed head over there. I'm definitely dead.
The fat gnome shook the empty chip bag again, creating another orange dust cloud. He licked at the cheesy apparition, and, unsatisfied, lumbered off towards the pantry. "Damn Scott, you gotta have some decent snacks left around here," he garbled.
"Who are you?"
"I'm your guardian, you moron. Been following your lame ass your whole life. Supposed to protect you or avenge you or something." He garbled out a laugh. Or maybe he was hacking phlegm? I couldn't tell.
"I know that. So what are you doing in my pantry? Some dude just burst in and cut my head off!"
"Hell yeah! That was so badass! Way better than watching you play that stupid shooter another 7 hours."
"You worthless---" I tried to shove my floating ghost body towards the grimy gnome. Instead, I found myself 4 feet above the ground. As I soared upwards, I managed to grab hold of the banister to keep myself from crashing into the ceiling. He let loose another phlegmy cackle as he tore open a bag of chips.
"---why aren't you doing anything?" I managed to squeak out, "Aren't you guys supposed to be powerful avengers? Hunting down murders? Haunting them to their last dying breath? Making them pay for---"
My monologue was cut off by the television turning on. The Gnome tossed aside the remote, grabbed a fistful of chips, and kicked back.
"Listen kid. I know you've heard all these fancy stories about guardians taking insane revenge schemes, but the truth is, we learn from you. I spent my life watching you sit on your fat ass. Now it's time for you to watch me do the same." | Holy carp I enjoyed reading this. Spare moment at work and decided to read this aloud, voice acting for an unknown entity going through a mixture of different emotions is not as easy as I thought.
Thank you for this beautiful short story, nicely done! +10 | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | I thought of Jamie, lying in the woods, while I stood behind Tom as her blood mixed with water and poured down the sink from his hands. *Sixteen years,* I kept thinking with murderous rage. She’d been my shortest charge, but one that I was overly fond of. It is always those with the brightest light that attract the insects.
I held my head right over his shoulder, turning so that my breath bushed against his neck. He flinched and turned around, his eyes still wild from his deed. I smiled, functioning only through the fuel of my revenge.
He removed his clothes, and shoved them into a black bag. Smears of blood remained on the edge of the sink, and the floor had two bloodied footprints.
I walked to his bedroom while he climbed into the shower, and retrieved a hanger. When I returned, I waited for the glass of the shower to cover with steam, and then removed the clothes from the bag, swept the shirt—still soaking wet with her blood—across the floor to spread the blood, and hung it up against the door. Stepping aside, I slammed it shut.
The door of the shower opened, and he leaned his head out. The horror that swept over him reminded me of my days of being a demon. Guardianship was a rehabilitation program, and for the first time since I started, I felt like I was probably going to fail at it.
“Who’s there?” he asked, and climbed out. His face was clean, but strings of light red water dripped down his torso.
“How did it feel?” I whispered and smiled as his eyes helplessly traced the empty room.
I pressed my back against the wall, right across from the mirror, and crossed my arms. My wings, light grey and still in the process of redemption, grew darker by the second. I thought I’d care when the change came, but the fury that filled me sated a hunger that I had long forgotten I had.
He climbed out and wrapped a towel around his waist. Walking over the sink, the vein in his neck twitched with a rising fear. He turned the cold tap, and scooped up the water, splashing it over his face. When he looked up, my face flashed at him through the mirror, and he jumped away, running for the door.
I followed him into the bedroom as he shuffled through his closet throwing out a shirt onto the bed, and grabbed a pair of pants.
I felt a new presence in the room, and heard the flutter of wings behind me. “Kral, it would be wise of you to leave us now.”
“He’s not worth it,” the guardian said, and I heard a knock in the broken floor plank of Tom’s apartment as he stepped closer toward.
“Leave.” He knew better than to try and fight me now. I doubted he gave a single shit about Tom to risk losing the progress of his redemption. A wind blew against my back as Kral disappeared.
I stood behind Tom as he clumsily buttoned his shirt, skipping buttons with his shaking fingers. I pressed my nail against his neck and swiped as hard as I could. The skin did not split, but a red line formed.
“Did she scream?” I asked, my voice bellowing through the room.
Tom tried to run but I caught him by the collar of his shirt and threw him into the corner by the door. I wanted him to see the exit be a step away from him, but know that despite his best efforts he would never get to go through it.
I appeared before him, and he crawled into a ball on the floor, his lip quivering like that of a weeping child.
“I will kill you now, Thomas. And I know this seems like the worst thing that can possibly happen to a man like you in this predicament, but let me tell you this, when you cross the gates of hell, I shall be waiting. There where even death cannot release you.”
*****
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/AlinaKG/comments/4or4yn/demon_rehabilitation_part_2/)
More stories here, /r/AlinaKG | Holy carp I enjoyed reading this. Spare moment at work and decided to read this aloud, voice acting for an unknown entity going through a mixture of different emotions is not as easy as I thought.
Thank you for this beautiful short story, nicely done! +10 | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Folklore calls us guardians. We are not though. We are leeches, we latch onto subconsciousness of a human and feed off of the emotions. When a host dies, we fade back to our own realm/dimension/universe/whatever to use this energy to multiply and prosper. The purer the emotions the more power they give us, and thus we gently steer the host into making good decisions in life (for our benefit).
Remember that ecstatic moment when you first tasted that strawberry ice-cream on a warm summer day? The combination of the sugar rush with the coldness of the ice-cream made you lose your wording and you started giggling. Probably not, you where only 2 at the time. But I remember your joy, that pure joy that only a kid can experience. That emotion powered me up and I reveled in the power and had just enough time to jiggle your mind to not take too large a bite. Brain freeze is not a nice experience for either of us.
I was there when my host first learned to read and write, I was there when he read his first sentence to his parents and felt his pride as they congratulate him.
I was there when he fell off his bike and snapped his arm. The pain was white hot and exhilarating. With a little push to his subconscious I made him remember his fathers teachings about first aid. He made a sling, and the relief and pride he felt felt wonderful to me.
I was there when he watched his favorite superhero movie on the big screen.
I was there when he got accepted into a prestigious university. Pushing him away from late night gaming sessions (for a cheap thrill) so that he would study payed off when the combined feeling of fear, anticipation, relief and joy washed over me when he read that acceptance letter.
I was there on his first date.
I was there when he lost his virginity. Such a beautiful moment for all of us. I winked at the other host's entity. It too knew that the moment was perfect.
I was there when he inevitably broke up with her. Sorrow doesn't feel good, for it is a draining emotion and over too fast (kinda like fast food) so I reminded him of all the great moments he had with her and that all his memories of the relation are positive ones. He grew stronger, and with him his emotions became purer.
And...
I was there when he died.
It was at a party with fellow students in his final year. Tired from studying he just hang around with his friends and one of them had heard of a party happening out of campus, I tried to dissuade him but in the end his friends managed to convince him.
The party was at someone's place in a shady part of town. Alcohol clouded both our senses and I cannot clearly recall how it lead to it. My host got into an argument about drugs with some lowlife at the party and apparently the dispute did not stick well with said lowlife.
At one point his drink got spiked and he was lead to a different area of the house. There on a filthy mattress he was forcefully given a cocktail of many different drugs. The door locked. The reaction was severe, he was flooded with mixed signals, he felt immeasurable joy and his body felt pleasure beyond belief. His mind however did not. As he lay on the ground writhing in ecstasy unable to control himself, his mind was in a clear state, he felt a mortal fear as all his senses told him it was wrong. Compare it to a locked in syndrome, only your body isn't just immobile, it's torturing you.
His stomach tried to expel whatever was wrong but all it did was make the host choke. He died in both ecstasy and agony and at that moment I felt power like no other. The energy was powerful but felt entirely wrong at the same time.
Only... I did not pass on to my own realm. I lingered. The link was severed and I hung there above his lifeless corpse. I felt. For the first time in my existence I felt. We are not ment to have feelings, we just feed on the feelings of others.
But I felt.
I felt sorrow, for losing my host at such a young age. There was so much potential, so much more that he could have done and achieve.
I felt... was that anger? No. It was more, I experienced rage. I. Felt. HATE. I wanted vengeance. And with this power that I had I could have it.
I reached out and found the lowlife. A guy in his late twenties, the kind of guy that deals drugs, steals, and has no empathy for others. I found him on the couch, smoking weed and trying to impress a group of girls 10 years younger than him. His entity was a shell of a being, being fed only the occasional 'pure emotion' when the lowlife relieved himself. All other emotions where artificial from drugs.
For the first time in the history of our kind I committed murder. I snuffed him out and severed his link. I felt joy as the lowlife suffered a tiny sting of utter loneliness.
I linked myself to the lowlife, but not to his subconsciousness, I linked to his entire mind. It was cramped and colorless. There where no ambitions, no dreams, no long term plans. All this scum wanted was to get high and "score bitches", there was a tiny ambition about something called 'street cred' but that would never materialize on purpose.
Linked to a subconsciousness I could only nudge a host. Now that I was linked to an entire mind and with the amount of power I had I could do anything. I could make him into a vegetable, or simply stop his heart, but no, I wanted him to suffer.
The first thing I did was to make his brain immune to drugs. He would never again feel the numbness of weed, the warmth of alcohol, the exhilaration of cocaine, and he would never smell the colors of acid. All that he had now was the cold hard reality of life. He sucked on his joint and puked as the smoke felt unfamiliar and disgusting in his mouth and lungs.
I also wanted him out of there. So I gave him agoraphobia, he instantly began to sweat as he realized he was surrounded by tens of people in a room with very loud music.
He stumbled out the house and limped to his car. As he sat there trying to comprehend what he felt I dragged out the memory of my former host and let it linger behind his every thought. As much as I wanted him to feel regret he was too much of a narcissist to feel empathy. So he drove off into the night instead, trying to outrun his fears. I was in his mind however stuck to him until his death, which would soon follow him.
As he started speeding I managed to burst several blood vessels in his brain causing a pain similar to a white hot knife being thrust in the eye. A cluster headache. I will admit that I enjoyed his screamed of pain. So I let it subside, I let him calm down and the moment he felt relaxed I did it again.
The lowlife lost control and swerved into oncoming traffic and I cursed as he managed to avoid the 20 ton truck, in doing so he did not avoid the barrier and crashed into it.
The engine of his car deflected the barrier and drove it through the drivers side windscreen, a shower of glass and sparks showered his face fractions of a second before the mangled steel plunged into his shoulder. The pain of a snapped arm was nothing compared to rusty serrated steel driving its way through flesh. Finally a pure emotion.
It didn't last long though, he passed out quickly after that. I wasn't having it and gave him another cluster headache. He woke up screaming from the pain in his body. He would die soon due to blood loss and I had to think of a way to not let him go too easy.
I noticed that the gas tank was punctured and it was porring down the side of the car.
I planted the idea in his subconsciousness that yes, a cigarette will help me him calm down.
As the lowlife pressed the car's lighter against the cigarette in his mouth I gave him another stab. He yelped and let the lighter fall... Right into the gasoline.
Flames licked the car and the interior caught fire quickly. He was trapped and burning. The fire seared his flesh and fused his clothes to his skin.
I quickly flashed the images of my former host in front of the lowlife's eyes. The last thing he would see would be of him and the last feeling (besides pain and fear) would be regret.
He died screaming and gurgling. And as his mind faded so did I. There was no afterlife for me, no return to my realm, I simply ceased to exist. We might not be actual "guardians", but for once, I was an Avenger. My host would have liked that. | Ellis couldn't fall asleep the next night.
His operation was safe, no one knew about the lab. He didn't want to see Darryl go, but he couldn't keep working around someone so closely tied to the police. Darryl HAD to go.
He could still feel the blood on his hands. Axes don't make for clean wounds. The chemical smell still lingered on his body.
But that was over. He was safe.
Soon, him and Elyse could get out of this vicious cycle. They could be free.
It was hard to sleep. One Mississippi, two Mississippi he would count to himself to help his mind rest. Three Mississippi. There was a terribly annoying buzzing sound. It wouldn't stop hovering around the room. Yesterday he woke up with bites all around his body.
Four Mississippi.
Still the buzzing.
I'll never get to sleep with this damned mosquito hovering around everywhere, he thought to himself.
Five Mississippi.
And the mosquito would make sure of that. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | If I knew it was the last few breaths I had left, I would have just sat there and panted for the next 10 seconds of my life. But fight or flight, that's how it works when panic sets in. I knew there was no escaping him this time. Just didn't know exactly what would happen at the moment when he does catch me. Oh what did I do what did I do... Running away from a Ford Escalade in unpatrolled desert late into the night should have given me a clue as to my fate, but you never can really give up, can you? But in the end it was just him ramming into me and ME flying into the air and cracking my head open on a rock. Nothing fancy.
Same can be said about my guardian. He exists, which is cool but he hasn't done much guarding has he. As far as I understand from otherworldly knowledge, he's been hiding my entire life, watching quietly as I endured bullying in high school, repeated muggings and now That. So basically my death was the result of prolonged game of cat and mouse. I died without the pleasure of knowing my deliverer. On January 8 2016, I receive a text which said, "Fast as wind though you may be, Harken, Harken, still not safe you see!". This might have set off a slight case of alarm bells for anyone else, but since I thoroughly believed in my insignificance, I thought it was one of my homies' bad rap compositions. So I reply with "Wazzup, nice rhymes man!" Ya I know I deserved to die for that alone.
Since then every day for three days no matter where I was at 1am, I found myself in the trunk of the Escalade. It's quite spacious I concede but smells kinda weird. So he lets my blindfolded self off at seemingly random locales and I'm free to scream and run away until I'm out of his headlights. Staying at a friend's house, police protection, nothing helped. I am back running every night for three nights.
So this 'guardian' will supposedly 'avenge' me. I mean, what good does that do? Found him rather quickly though......
Want to read more? This is my first post on WP so will if you guys like it. | Ellis couldn't fall asleep the next night.
His operation was safe, no one knew about the lab. He didn't want to see Darryl go, but he couldn't keep working around someone so closely tied to the police. Darryl HAD to go.
He could still feel the blood on his hands. Axes don't make for clean wounds. The chemical smell still lingered on his body.
But that was over. He was safe.
Soon, him and Elyse could get out of this vicious cycle. They could be free.
It was hard to sleep. One Mississippi, two Mississippi he would count to himself to help his mind rest. Three Mississippi. There was a terribly annoying buzzing sound. It wouldn't stop hovering around the room. Yesterday he woke up with bites all around his body.
Four Mississippi.
Still the buzzing.
I'll never get to sleep with this damned mosquito hovering around everywhere, he thought to himself.
Five Mississippi.
And the mosquito would make sure of that. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | *There couldn't possibly have been a witness. I had done everything I needed to. The duct tape was tight, rope was tight. Even if the drugs hadn't taken hold, she had no way of letting anyone know. This just doesn't make sense.* Jonathan stood in his kitchen, staring at the red liquid on the table. "I know, and I'm coming." He leaned closer and the all too familiar metallic smell of blood wafted into his nostrils. He enjoyed it at first, reminding him of his first kill. But this wasn't it at all- he was afraid. This is the second message he had found in blood since he killed her. Someone was coming after him.
The next day, Jonathan woke up covered in sweat. He had a dream, a nightmare really. All of his victims were chasing him, all armed with the same filet knife he had used on them. He was soaked head to toe in perspiration. *Why is this happening? Those sluts, those whores they had it coming! They deserved it.* The smell of blood wafted into his bedroom sending chills down his spine. Jonathan crept out of bed, his hands trembling as it gripped a baseball bat. He turned the corner to the living room and the third message awaited him. "No one deserves what you did, Jonathan."
He flew into a frenzy. He had to get out of town, now. Go to Canada or something. *I knew that it was a bad idea after I saw that black cat. Probably walked under a ladder too.* Jonathan threw clothes and his valuables into a duffle bag, retrieved the filet knife from under his bed to place in the bag. Again, metal filled the air as blood oozed from the handle of the knife. "AUUGH!" Jonathan dropped the knife and rushed out of the apartment screaming bloody murder. He scaled the stairs of his basement apartment and flew out the foyer door, gasping for air. All he could think about was the girls hair, her screams and her eyes closing as he plunge the knife into her heart. Then, he felt something brush across his bare leg.
It was the black cat. He had seen it in the woods where he buried them. He saw it on his way home from work yesterday. And last night when he went out for a smoke it crossed the parking lot. Jonathan stared in amazement. The cat met his gaze. Instead of the usual yellow eyes with black almonds the cats eyes were completely black. Jonathan began to recoil ad tripped as it started to change.
The cat crew black,leathery skin and its bones elongated with a horrifying creaking noise. It's face grew human and gaunt, till as black as night. The cat morphed into a lumbering monstrosity, 7 feet tall. It's skin clung to its bones and its joints creaked as it stepped closer and closer to Jonathan. The creature's mannequin face stared deep into him.
"Why did you do it Jonathan?"
"I didn't do anything, I swear! Please for the love of God, don't kill me!"
"It's too late Jonathan."
Jonathan felt the filet knife in his hand, oozing with blood again. The creature knelt down and stared deep into Jonathan's eyes as it gripped his wrist. Jonathan was powerless. The life left his arms and his face drained of color as the creature plunged his own knife into his chest. Over and over again, he felt the blood cut through his flesh. With a dying gurgle Jonathan finally collapsed, the knife embedded in his torso.
When the police arrived, the doorman said that he had seen it all. Jonathan emerged from his home, screaming with a filet knife in hand. He stabbed himself bet and over again as he fell to the ground. The doorman noted that there was a cat there that walked by him in the middle of his episode. The police shrugged it off and conducted a search of Jonathan's apartment as found the evidence. The families were notified and brought closure to a tortured few months during his rampage.
Jonathan was buried, with his mother and sister in attendance. Rachel, his most recent victim, was exhumed from her shallow grave and put to rest. The community poured out to pay their respects. In attendance was a curious black cat, who sat at the edge of her tombstone. | Ellis couldn't fall asleep the next night.
His operation was safe, no one knew about the lab. He didn't want to see Darryl go, but he couldn't keep working around someone so closely tied to the police. Darryl HAD to go.
He could still feel the blood on his hands. Axes don't make for clean wounds. The chemical smell still lingered on his body.
But that was over. He was safe.
Soon, him and Elyse could get out of this vicious cycle. They could be free.
It was hard to sleep. One Mississippi, two Mississippi he would count to himself to help his mind rest. Three Mississippi. There was a terribly annoying buzzing sound. It wouldn't stop hovering around the room. Yesterday he woke up with bites all around his body.
Four Mississippi.
Still the buzzing.
I'll never get to sleep with this damned mosquito hovering around everywhere, he thought to himself.
Five Mississippi.
And the mosquito would make sure of that. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | [Okay, so this might turn out to be a combination of a little silly and a little dark. It's my first submission, sorry for any major errors or stupid mistakes. I hope you enjoy it.]
It started with a murder. A lot of stories do, and this one went as a lot of murders do. One man stopped another in a dark alley and demanded all of his money. There was a fight and the second man never left that alley alive. The murderer thought he'd gotten away with it, but then strange things started happening.
A week after the murder, the guilty man was walking down the street. He finally felt more relaxed, and wasn't looking over his shoulder every two seconds. As he moved down the side walk, he started catching strange glimpses out of the corner of his eye. He would catch a flash of black and white, but every time he looked it was just the regular pedestrians. Shaking his head, the murderer kept walking. Maybe he wasn't quite over it yet.
A few days later he was at the bank. While waiting in line, the man caught sight of something strange. There was a *penguin* in one of the offices! He grabbed his phone, but when he went to take a picture, there was just a man giving him a funny look. Rubbing his eyes, he looked again and the penguin was back! Grabbing the shoulder of the man next to him, the murderer pointed wordlessly. Before they turned back though, the penguin was gone again. The second man shook the murderer's hand off of his shoulder and hurried to a different line. The murderer shoved his hands in his pockets and ducked his head, staring at the floor.
...
They were everywhere. The murderer was sure of it. No matter where he went he saw the damned *penguins!* At the grocery store in the freezer section, behind him on the streets, once in his apartment! He couldn't escape the birds and it was playing havoc with his mind. No one else ever saw them. The murderer would try to point them out, tried to get pictures, but they were always gone. He couldn't take it anymore. Holding the gun to his head, a suicide note in hand, telling the world what he had done and what he had scene, he pulled the trigger.
On the roof, a lone penguin smiled. The expression didn't fit the normally inexpressive face. Slowly, the face changed, and soon something else was standing in it's place. There was a sense of *wrongness* to the new occupant. Anyone nearby suddenly felt chilled, and hurried on their way, heads down and eyes searching to and fro with paranoid flickering. The thing had done it's job, and had guarded the man it had been given throughout his life. It had also avenged him, after it's death. The naagloshii chuckled to itself, and then a small bird left the roof top and flew towards the forests to the north.
[Thanks for reading if you got this far! I based my story on my favorite animal, a penguin, and one of the monsters that has affected me the most in literature, the Naagloshii. I first read of it in the [Dresden Files](http://dresdenfiles.wikia.com/wiki/Naagloshii) and have done a little more research into the original Native American legend of the [Skin-Walkers.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skin-walker) If you have any comments or criticism I'd be happy to hear them as it is my first submission, as I mentioned. Have a great day!] | Ellis couldn't fall asleep the next night.
His operation was safe, no one knew about the lab. He didn't want to see Darryl go, but he couldn't keep working around someone so closely tied to the police. Darryl HAD to go.
He could still feel the blood on his hands. Axes don't make for clean wounds. The chemical smell still lingered on his body.
But that was over. He was safe.
Soon, him and Elyse could get out of this vicious cycle. They could be free.
It was hard to sleep. One Mississippi, two Mississippi he would count to himself to help his mind rest. Three Mississippi. There was a terribly annoying buzzing sound. It wouldn't stop hovering around the room. Yesterday he woke up with bites all around his body.
Four Mississippi.
Still the buzzing.
I'll never get to sleep with this damned mosquito hovering around everywhere, he thought to himself.
Five Mississippi.
And the mosquito would make sure of that. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Thomas ran a shaking hand through his wet hair. He picked up the glass from the table, spilling onto his sleeve. He put the glass back on the table, his throat too tight to drink.
The room was silent. He should get a clock, he thought suddenly. A real old-fashioned one, the kind with slender hands and a slow, steady tick to measure the passing of time. *Tick, tick* everything is fine *tick, tick* the world is still turning *tick, tick* see? it's ok.
*Tick, tick.* His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he jerked backwards. He *had* heard it this time. Not the slow, steady, heavy march of time ticking; the sharp, scraping tick of pins on wood.
"*AUWK!*"
"*FUCK!*"
Not pins on wood. His heart clattered against his ribcage. Claws on wood. Or talons? Isn't it talons when they're on a bird? Fuck. There was a bird in the window. The open window. He didn't remember opening the window. But then, he didn't remember a lot of things that had happened after... before he'd come to in the shower, watching the last of the pink trails eddying around his feet and circling the drain...
"*Auwk!*" The bird repeated. Thomas didn't know much about birds, but you didn't need to know that much to realize it was obviously a parrot, bright green with a yellow and blue head. It doubled over, rubbing its beak against the windowsill, *tick, tick.* So, not its claws, or talons, or whatever, after all.
He laughed to ease the pressure in his chest. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He tried to remember if anyone in the building had a parrot, but he wasn't close with his neighbors. In any case, parrots are expensive, and he still needed money. He got up slowly.
The parrot shuffled and muttered like a cranky old man, turning its head to fix him with a reproachful glare.
"Pretty bird," he warbled, "c'mere, pretty bird."
"*Who's there?*" the parrot answered, in a high, frail voice that froze Thomas in his tracks. "*Who's there? I'm calling the police!*"
Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but he couldn't understand how. He felt cold as ice, dry as a desert. Where did it come from?
"*Open the fucking safe!*" *His* voice this time, but tinny, like an old recording. The parrot stared at him, as if daring him to answer.
"You weren't there," he croaked dumbly. He would have remembered. He would have- there just wasn't. Only the old man, and him. And then just him. *He would have remembered.*
The parrot clicked its beak rapidly and bobbed its head, like it was laughing at him. "*I'm calling the police!*"
"You can't," his face felt numb and he wasn't sure if he had said that, or if it was the parrot again. It clicked its beak again, ruffling its bright feathers.
"*Open the fucking safe!*" Thomas said again, but definitely not from his mouth this time. "*I'll fucking kill you if you don't open the fucking safe!*"
Thomas lunged. The parrot, beak clattering like laughter, evaded him with ease and settled to perch on the railing of the rusted fire escape. It bobbed up and down, dancing spitefully out of reach.
"*I'm calling the police!*" It taunted, then wolf-whistled.
"I'll fucking kill you," Thomas, the real Thomas, hissed for the second time that night. The window was a tight squeeze - it was an old building and the windows were huge, but so was Thomas - and he got stuck at the shoulders. The parrot turned its rainbow head from side to side, watching him struggle.
"Oh, fuck this," he panted, adrenaline or anger or whatever it was driving him draining rapidly away. He glared at the parrot. "Nobody's gonna listen to a stupid bird."
The parrot ruffled its feathers and fixed a sharp, red eye on Thomas' sweaty face. Its pupil flashed, flaring up huge and black before shrinking to a vengeful pinprick.
"*Fuck!*" it repeated softly, "*There's nothing in the safe!*"
Thomas swore. He lunged. He made it through the window. His full weight slammed into the railing of the fire escape. It was an old building, and Thomas was huge. Metal screamed in protest (like the old man hadn't, just a short, startled bark and a gurgling wheeze) followed by the crack of a bolt popping free of brick (that was scratched and marked around the bolt like it had been methodically scraped away by something sharp) followed by another scream, a real one this time, as the fire escape jolted just enough for Thomas to lose his balance.
Followed, after some time, by a wet, crunching thump.
The parrot perched on the tilted fire escape railing and ruffled its brightly-colored feathers, chuckling.
| Ellis couldn't fall asleep the next night.
His operation was safe, no one knew about the lab. He didn't want to see Darryl go, but he couldn't keep working around someone so closely tied to the police. Darryl HAD to go.
He could still feel the blood on his hands. Axes don't make for clean wounds. The chemical smell still lingered on his body.
But that was over. He was safe.
Soon, him and Elyse could get out of this vicious cycle. They could be free.
It was hard to sleep. One Mississippi, two Mississippi he would count to himself to help his mind rest. Three Mississippi. There was a terribly annoying buzzing sound. It wouldn't stop hovering around the room. Yesterday he woke up with bites all around his body.
Four Mississippi.
Still the buzzing.
I'll never get to sleep with this damned mosquito hovering around everywhere, he thought to himself.
Five Mississippi.
And the mosquito would make sure of that. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | I'm a Guardian. And I've just failed my charge. Watching her die helpless, all alone as she took her last breath. I could do nothing as the knife plunged into her. I was helpless then. No longer. It's time I avenged her.
To hunt a man and kill him, one must render him defenseless. I'm an immaterial being, unable to affect the material world nor am I able to influence it directly. So I go directly to his Guardian.
I request his Guardian to stand aside as I enact my revenge. A formality, really. No Guardian would ever willingly let their charge come to harm while they're around. My request denied I ready my plan.
A simple distraction, a trap set and ready. We cannot touch the material, but the intangible? That's our purview. Our weakness and now, my weapon and strength. As he lay dreaming that night, I let lose a few stray nightmares. Nothing strong, not horrific. Just enough to get his Guardian to dispatch them away from him.
I quickly dropped a seed of mania in his mind. Small and insignificant now, but in the rich and fertile fields of his mind, it will grow. I cover it and whisper her name. He'll remember her.
Every night I let lose ever bigger nightmares. And every night his Guardian runs ragged trying to contain them all. Most are contained. And every night I sow more seeds. Discord, doubt, insecurity, fear. I sow and they take root in his mind. By day, his Guardian clears them all.
It doesn't work. Seeds of horror are like weeds. They cling on to you, like burr and grow quickly. Much too quickly. It can't be undone. And so I watch. I watch as madness takes over. And I watch in satisfaction as he steps over the edge and plummets over the edge of the building.
It's time. My charge is dead. My revenge fulfilled. And it's now time for me to receive my punishment. I can feel the call. I think maybe it'll hurt. But that's alright. It was worth it. I smile as I step lightly into the light. | Ellis couldn't fall asleep the next night.
His operation was safe, no one knew about the lab. He didn't want to see Darryl go, but he couldn't keep working around someone so closely tied to the police. Darryl HAD to go.
He could still feel the blood on his hands. Axes don't make for clean wounds. The chemical smell still lingered on his body.
But that was over. He was safe.
Soon, him and Elyse could get out of this vicious cycle. They could be free.
It was hard to sleep. One Mississippi, two Mississippi he would count to himself to help his mind rest. Three Mississippi. There was a terribly annoying buzzing sound. It wouldn't stop hovering around the room. Yesterday he woke up with bites all around his body.
Four Mississippi.
Still the buzzing.
I'll never get to sleep with this damned mosquito hovering around everywhere, he thought to himself.
Five Mississippi.
And the mosquito would make sure of that. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | After what can only be described as my soul leaving my body, watching the doctors give up not long after and declare me dead, I noticed the cockroach.
There was nothing obviously different about the cockroach, but somehow I knew that the cockroach was there for me. I think it was the fact that it stood on it's hindmost legs, looked directly at me (the floating me, not the dead body me), and started waving everything else in a deliberate "follow me" gesture.
All of this, being exceedingly surreal, yet having no other pressing needs at the moment, I gave him a little wave. At that he dropped down to all sixes and scurried into a gap between the floor and wall.
I rushed to follow, I didn't want to lose him, and suddenly found myself in the middle of the wall. Part of me back in the room with my body, the other part in a hallway, people scurrying to and fro, on whatever it is that the living still need to do.
I notice my wife, or who used to be my wife, until moments ago, who may or may not still be my wife, all things considered, sitting in a chair, a look of worry, tears on her face. I almost feel like I need to touch her, but it passes. Apparently, the dead forget, quickly.
I turn to look for the cockroach. I don't see him, but somehow, I know where he is. He's moving quickly. Much quicker than any cockroach I knew in life. Not that I knew any. Most cockroaches I ever saw I simply squished, or ignored. I hope he doesn't hold that against me. Maybe he's leading me to a ghostly doom, in revenge of his fallen comrades.
I don't dwell on this. As a matter of fact, I find myself moving much quicker than I expected. For a brief instant, I feel surprise and shock, but being dead, it quickly passes. I find I don't care about that, either.
The cockroach has entered a house. It's unfamiliar to me, I'm pretty sure I've never been there before, yet at the same time, I feel drawn to it. I think I should stop a moment, but a sensation, not unlike a nicotine fit (from the days I smoked), compels me forward, and I find myself hovering next to a sleeping woman, the cockroach sitting on her pillow by her head.
I know this woman. The woman that shot me. Already, I don't remember much of my life. I think I mentioned, the dead don't care, but her...I remember. I don't remember any details, just her, the gun, the shot, the pain...
Suddenly, another cockroach appears. This one is normal, but my cockroach, appears to communicate with it. With that, the cockroach (the normal one) turns, and crawls into the ear of the sleeping woman.
I feel glee. With anticipation, I wait to see the result. I don't know how long I waited. A moment, an hour, time has no meaning, and I don't feel the least bit bored or impatient.
Her eyes flutter open, tears spring to her eyes, and in apparent agony, shoves a finger in the ear the cockroach crawled into. She sits up, and the cockroach falls out and scurries away.
I feel disappointed that her pain was so short lived.
After a moment, I see her laying in her bed again, sleeping. It's been an hour, or maybe a day, I don't know. The cockroach (my cockroach) is next to her head on the pillow again, and not long after, another cockroach appears, and crawls into her ear.
The scene repeats, over and over, sometimes with small differences, so I know that each time this happens, it's a new event, a new experience of agony for her, and each time, I feel unrestrained glee. Sleeping in her bed, sitting on her couch, driving in her car, in church, at the store, even during sex, my cockroach has directed some other cockroach to burrow into her ear. Sometimes the live cockroach escapes...sometimes they don't, but there's no shortage of cockroaches, and my cockroach never seems to tire.
Frankly, neither do I.
| Ellis couldn't fall asleep the next night.
His operation was safe, no one knew about the lab. He didn't want to see Darryl go, but he couldn't keep working around someone so closely tied to the police. Darryl HAD to go.
He could still feel the blood on his hands. Axes don't make for clean wounds. The chemical smell still lingered on his body.
But that was over. He was safe.
Soon, him and Elyse could get out of this vicious cycle. They could be free.
It was hard to sleep. One Mississippi, two Mississippi he would count to himself to help his mind rest. Three Mississippi. There was a terribly annoying buzzing sound. It wouldn't stop hovering around the room. Yesterday he woke up with bites all around his body.
Four Mississippi.
Still the buzzing.
I'll never get to sleep with this damned mosquito hovering around everywhere, he thought to himself.
Five Mississippi.
And the mosquito would make sure of that. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Folklore calls us guardians. We are not though. We are leeches, we latch onto subconsciousness of a human and feed off of the emotions. When a host dies, we fade back to our own realm/dimension/universe/whatever to use this energy to multiply and prosper. The purer the emotions the more power they give us, and thus we gently steer the host into making good decisions in life (for our benefit).
Remember that ecstatic moment when you first tasted that strawberry ice-cream on a warm summer day? The combination of the sugar rush with the coldness of the ice-cream made you lose your wording and you started giggling. Probably not, you where only 2 at the time. But I remember your joy, that pure joy that only a kid can experience. That emotion powered me up and I reveled in the power and had just enough time to jiggle your mind to not take too large a bite. Brain freeze is not a nice experience for either of us.
I was there when my host first learned to read and write, I was there when he read his first sentence to his parents and felt his pride as they congratulate him.
I was there when he fell off his bike and snapped his arm. The pain was white hot and exhilarating. With a little push to his subconscious I made him remember his fathers teachings about first aid. He made a sling, and the relief and pride he felt felt wonderful to me.
I was there when he watched his favorite superhero movie on the big screen.
I was there when he got accepted into a prestigious university. Pushing him away from late night gaming sessions (for a cheap thrill) so that he would study payed off when the combined feeling of fear, anticipation, relief and joy washed over me when he read that acceptance letter.
I was there on his first date.
I was there when he lost his virginity. Such a beautiful moment for all of us. I winked at the other host's entity. It too knew that the moment was perfect.
I was there when he inevitably broke up with her. Sorrow doesn't feel good, for it is a draining emotion and over too fast (kinda like fast food) so I reminded him of all the great moments he had with her and that all his memories of the relation are positive ones. He grew stronger, and with him his emotions became purer.
And...
I was there when he died.
It was at a party with fellow students in his final year. Tired from studying he just hang around with his friends and one of them had heard of a party happening out of campus, I tried to dissuade him but in the end his friends managed to convince him.
The party was at someone's place in a shady part of town. Alcohol clouded both our senses and I cannot clearly recall how it lead to it. My host got into an argument about drugs with some lowlife at the party and apparently the dispute did not stick well with said lowlife.
At one point his drink got spiked and he was lead to a different area of the house. There on a filthy mattress he was forcefully given a cocktail of many different drugs. The door locked. The reaction was severe, he was flooded with mixed signals, he felt immeasurable joy and his body felt pleasure beyond belief. His mind however did not. As he lay on the ground writhing in ecstasy unable to control himself, his mind was in a clear state, he felt a mortal fear as all his senses told him it was wrong. Compare it to a locked in syndrome, only your body isn't just immobile, it's torturing you.
His stomach tried to expel whatever was wrong but all it did was make the host choke. He died in both ecstasy and agony and at that moment I felt power like no other. The energy was powerful but felt entirely wrong at the same time.
Only... I did not pass on to my own realm. I lingered. The link was severed and I hung there above his lifeless corpse. I felt. For the first time in my existence I felt. We are not ment to have feelings, we just feed on the feelings of others.
But I felt.
I felt sorrow, for losing my host at such a young age. There was so much potential, so much more that he could have done and achieve.
I felt... was that anger? No. It was more, I experienced rage. I. Felt. HATE. I wanted vengeance. And with this power that I had I could have it.
I reached out and found the lowlife. A guy in his late twenties, the kind of guy that deals drugs, steals, and has no empathy for others. I found him on the couch, smoking weed and trying to impress a group of girls 10 years younger than him. His entity was a shell of a being, being fed only the occasional 'pure emotion' when the lowlife relieved himself. All other emotions where artificial from drugs.
For the first time in the history of our kind I committed murder. I snuffed him out and severed his link. I felt joy as the lowlife suffered a tiny sting of utter loneliness.
I linked myself to the lowlife, but not to his subconsciousness, I linked to his entire mind. It was cramped and colorless. There where no ambitions, no dreams, no long term plans. All this scum wanted was to get high and "score bitches", there was a tiny ambition about something called 'street cred' but that would never materialize on purpose.
Linked to a subconsciousness I could only nudge a host. Now that I was linked to an entire mind and with the amount of power I had I could do anything. I could make him into a vegetable, or simply stop his heart, but no, I wanted him to suffer.
The first thing I did was to make his brain immune to drugs. He would never again feel the numbness of weed, the warmth of alcohol, the exhilaration of cocaine, and he would never smell the colors of acid. All that he had now was the cold hard reality of life. He sucked on his joint and puked as the smoke felt unfamiliar and disgusting in his mouth and lungs.
I also wanted him out of there. So I gave him agoraphobia, he instantly began to sweat as he realized he was surrounded by tens of people in a room with very loud music.
He stumbled out the house and limped to his car. As he sat there trying to comprehend what he felt I dragged out the memory of my former host and let it linger behind his every thought. As much as I wanted him to feel regret he was too much of a narcissist to feel empathy. So he drove off into the night instead, trying to outrun his fears. I was in his mind however stuck to him until his death, which would soon follow him.
As he started speeding I managed to burst several blood vessels in his brain causing a pain similar to a white hot knife being thrust in the eye. A cluster headache. I will admit that I enjoyed his screamed of pain. So I let it subside, I let him calm down and the moment he felt relaxed I did it again.
The lowlife lost control and swerved into oncoming traffic and I cursed as he managed to avoid the 20 ton truck, in doing so he did not avoid the barrier and crashed into it.
The engine of his car deflected the barrier and drove it through the drivers side windscreen, a shower of glass and sparks showered his face fractions of a second before the mangled steel plunged into his shoulder. The pain of a snapped arm was nothing compared to rusty serrated steel driving its way through flesh. Finally a pure emotion.
It didn't last long though, he passed out quickly after that. I wasn't having it and gave him another cluster headache. He woke up screaming from the pain in his body. He would die soon due to blood loss and I had to think of a way to not let him go too easy.
I noticed that the gas tank was punctured and it was porring down the side of the car.
I planted the idea in his subconsciousness that yes, a cigarette will help me him calm down.
As the lowlife pressed the car's lighter against the cigarette in his mouth I gave him another stab. He yelped and let the lighter fall... Right into the gasoline.
Flames licked the car and the interior caught fire quickly. He was trapped and burning. The fire seared his flesh and fused his clothes to his skin.
I quickly flashed the images of my former host in front of the lowlife's eyes. The last thing he would see would be of him and the last feeling (besides pain and fear) would be regret.
He died screaming and gurgling. And as his mind faded so did I. There was no afterlife for me, no return to my realm, I simply ceased to exist. We might not be actual "guardians", but for once, I was an Avenger. My host would have liked that. | We start as you imaginary friend, taking whatever form you are most comfortable with. I watched you, cared for you, and, I suppose thinking back, I did love you. I loved you in my own way. Some guardians become corrupt, turning their charges insane. I only spoke to you while you were young. Then I was the pleasant breeze in your face on a hot day. I did everything in my power to keep you happy and safe. Until that night. That night ruined me. While you tried, in vain, to fight of the madman that took you from me I fought with his corrupted guardian. But in both cases, madness can grant strength. I lost at nearly the same time you did. As I watched helplessly, the life I fought so hard to make perfect faded from your eyes. I screamed. I howled at the sky.Ranting and raving incoherently as the madman and his corrupt guardian just watched. Then I changed. I changed from the soft breeze on your face. I became the horrible gale. I ripped the essence of his guardian to shreds. Good riddance. I watched, happily, as my wind, my life energy giving it power, peeled the flesh, layer by layer from his bones. And, as I felt my self fading away into eternity to be with you again, I delighted in his horrified screams. Oh how he shrieked and screamed. I didn't know if you would still want me after what I had done. But my last thought as I faded away, was "I love you". | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | If I knew it was the last few breaths I had left, I would have just sat there and panted for the next 10 seconds of my life. But fight or flight, that's how it works when panic sets in. I knew there was no escaping him this time. Just didn't know exactly what would happen at the moment when he does catch me. Oh what did I do what did I do... Running away from a Ford Escalade in unpatrolled desert late into the night should have given me a clue as to my fate, but you never can really give up, can you? But in the end it was just him ramming into me and ME flying into the air and cracking my head open on a rock. Nothing fancy.
Same can be said about my guardian. He exists, which is cool but he hasn't done much guarding has he. As far as I understand from otherworldly knowledge, he's been hiding my entire life, watching quietly as I endured bullying in high school, repeated muggings and now That. So basically my death was the result of prolonged game of cat and mouse. I died without the pleasure of knowing my deliverer. On January 8 2016, I receive a text which said, "Fast as wind though you may be, Harken, Harken, still not safe you see!". This might have set off a slight case of alarm bells for anyone else, but since I thoroughly believed in my insignificance, I thought it was one of my homies' bad rap compositions. So I reply with "Wazzup, nice rhymes man!" Ya I know I deserved to die for that alone.
Since then every day for three days no matter where I was at 1am, I found myself in the trunk of the Escalade. It's quite spacious I concede but smells kinda weird. So he lets my blindfolded self off at seemingly random locales and I'm free to scream and run away until I'm out of his headlights. Staying at a friend's house, police protection, nothing helped. I am back running every night for three nights.
So this 'guardian' will supposedly 'avenge' me. I mean, what good does that do? Found him rather quickly though......
Want to read more? This is my first post on WP so will if you guys like it. | We start as you imaginary friend, taking whatever form you are most comfortable with. I watched you, cared for you, and, I suppose thinking back, I did love you. I loved you in my own way. Some guardians become corrupt, turning their charges insane. I only spoke to you while you were young. Then I was the pleasant breeze in your face on a hot day. I did everything in my power to keep you happy and safe. Until that night. That night ruined me. While you tried, in vain, to fight of the madman that took you from me I fought with his corrupted guardian. But in both cases, madness can grant strength. I lost at nearly the same time you did. As I watched helplessly, the life I fought so hard to make perfect faded from your eyes. I screamed. I howled at the sky.Ranting and raving incoherently as the madman and his corrupt guardian just watched. Then I changed. I changed from the soft breeze on your face. I became the horrible gale. I ripped the essence of his guardian to shreds. Good riddance. I watched, happily, as my wind, my life energy giving it power, peeled the flesh, layer by layer from his bones. And, as I felt my self fading away into eternity to be with you again, I delighted in his horrified screams. Oh how he shrieked and screamed. I didn't know if you would still want me after what I had done. But my last thought as I faded away, was "I love you". | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | *There couldn't possibly have been a witness. I had done everything I needed to. The duct tape was tight, rope was tight. Even if the drugs hadn't taken hold, she had no way of letting anyone know. This just doesn't make sense.* Jonathan stood in his kitchen, staring at the red liquid on the table. "I know, and I'm coming." He leaned closer and the all too familiar metallic smell of blood wafted into his nostrils. He enjoyed it at first, reminding him of his first kill. But this wasn't it at all- he was afraid. This is the second message he had found in blood since he killed her. Someone was coming after him.
The next day, Jonathan woke up covered in sweat. He had a dream, a nightmare really. All of his victims were chasing him, all armed with the same filet knife he had used on them. He was soaked head to toe in perspiration. *Why is this happening? Those sluts, those whores they had it coming! They deserved it.* The smell of blood wafted into his bedroom sending chills down his spine. Jonathan crept out of bed, his hands trembling as it gripped a baseball bat. He turned the corner to the living room and the third message awaited him. "No one deserves what you did, Jonathan."
He flew into a frenzy. He had to get out of town, now. Go to Canada or something. *I knew that it was a bad idea after I saw that black cat. Probably walked under a ladder too.* Jonathan threw clothes and his valuables into a duffle bag, retrieved the filet knife from under his bed to place in the bag. Again, metal filled the air as blood oozed from the handle of the knife. "AUUGH!" Jonathan dropped the knife and rushed out of the apartment screaming bloody murder. He scaled the stairs of his basement apartment and flew out the foyer door, gasping for air. All he could think about was the girls hair, her screams and her eyes closing as he plunge the knife into her heart. Then, he felt something brush across his bare leg.
It was the black cat. He had seen it in the woods where he buried them. He saw it on his way home from work yesterday. And last night when he went out for a smoke it crossed the parking lot. Jonathan stared in amazement. The cat met his gaze. Instead of the usual yellow eyes with black almonds the cats eyes were completely black. Jonathan began to recoil ad tripped as it started to change.
The cat crew black,leathery skin and its bones elongated with a horrifying creaking noise. It's face grew human and gaunt, till as black as night. The cat morphed into a lumbering monstrosity, 7 feet tall. It's skin clung to its bones and its joints creaked as it stepped closer and closer to Jonathan. The creature's mannequin face stared deep into him.
"Why did you do it Jonathan?"
"I didn't do anything, I swear! Please for the love of God, don't kill me!"
"It's too late Jonathan."
Jonathan felt the filet knife in his hand, oozing with blood again. The creature knelt down and stared deep into Jonathan's eyes as it gripped his wrist. Jonathan was powerless. The life left his arms and his face drained of color as the creature plunged his own knife into his chest. Over and over again, he felt the blood cut through his flesh. With a dying gurgle Jonathan finally collapsed, the knife embedded in his torso.
When the police arrived, the doorman said that he had seen it all. Jonathan emerged from his home, screaming with a filet knife in hand. He stabbed himself bet and over again as he fell to the ground. The doorman noted that there was a cat there that walked by him in the middle of his episode. The police shrugged it off and conducted a search of Jonathan's apartment as found the evidence. The families were notified and brought closure to a tortured few months during his rampage.
Jonathan was buried, with his mother and sister in attendance. Rachel, his most recent victim, was exhumed from her shallow grave and put to rest. The community poured out to pay their respects. In attendance was a curious black cat, who sat at the edge of her tombstone. | We start as you imaginary friend, taking whatever form you are most comfortable with. I watched you, cared for you, and, I suppose thinking back, I did love you. I loved you in my own way. Some guardians become corrupt, turning their charges insane. I only spoke to you while you were young. Then I was the pleasant breeze in your face on a hot day. I did everything in my power to keep you happy and safe. Until that night. That night ruined me. While you tried, in vain, to fight of the madman that took you from me I fought with his corrupted guardian. But in both cases, madness can grant strength. I lost at nearly the same time you did. As I watched helplessly, the life I fought so hard to make perfect faded from your eyes. I screamed. I howled at the sky.Ranting and raving incoherently as the madman and his corrupt guardian just watched. Then I changed. I changed from the soft breeze on your face. I became the horrible gale. I ripped the essence of his guardian to shreds. Good riddance. I watched, happily, as my wind, my life energy giving it power, peeled the flesh, layer by layer from his bones. And, as I felt my self fading away into eternity to be with you again, I delighted in his horrified screams. Oh how he shrieked and screamed. I didn't know if you would still want me after what I had done. But my last thought as I faded away, was "I love you". | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Thomas ran a shaking hand through his wet hair. He picked up the glass from the table, spilling onto his sleeve. He put the glass back on the table, his throat too tight to drink.
The room was silent. He should get a clock, he thought suddenly. A real old-fashioned one, the kind with slender hands and a slow, steady tick to measure the passing of time. *Tick, tick* everything is fine *tick, tick* the world is still turning *tick, tick* see? it's ok.
*Tick, tick.* His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he jerked backwards. He *had* heard it this time. Not the slow, steady, heavy march of time ticking; the sharp, scraping tick of pins on wood.
"*AUWK!*"
"*FUCK!*"
Not pins on wood. His heart clattered against his ribcage. Claws on wood. Or talons? Isn't it talons when they're on a bird? Fuck. There was a bird in the window. The open window. He didn't remember opening the window. But then, he didn't remember a lot of things that had happened after... before he'd come to in the shower, watching the last of the pink trails eddying around his feet and circling the drain...
"*Auwk!*" The bird repeated. Thomas didn't know much about birds, but you didn't need to know that much to realize it was obviously a parrot, bright green with a yellow and blue head. It doubled over, rubbing its beak against the windowsill, *tick, tick.* So, not its claws, or talons, or whatever, after all.
He laughed to ease the pressure in his chest. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He tried to remember if anyone in the building had a parrot, but he wasn't close with his neighbors. In any case, parrots are expensive, and he still needed money. He got up slowly.
The parrot shuffled and muttered like a cranky old man, turning its head to fix him with a reproachful glare.
"Pretty bird," he warbled, "c'mere, pretty bird."
"*Who's there?*" the parrot answered, in a high, frail voice that froze Thomas in his tracks. "*Who's there? I'm calling the police!*"
Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but he couldn't understand how. He felt cold as ice, dry as a desert. Where did it come from?
"*Open the fucking safe!*" *His* voice this time, but tinny, like an old recording. The parrot stared at him, as if daring him to answer.
"You weren't there," he croaked dumbly. He would have remembered. He would have- there just wasn't. Only the old man, and him. And then just him. *He would have remembered.*
The parrot clicked its beak rapidly and bobbed its head, like it was laughing at him. "*I'm calling the police!*"
"You can't," his face felt numb and he wasn't sure if he had said that, or if it was the parrot again. It clicked its beak again, ruffling its bright feathers.
"*Open the fucking safe!*" Thomas said again, but definitely not from his mouth this time. "*I'll fucking kill you if you don't open the fucking safe!*"
Thomas lunged. The parrot, beak clattering like laughter, evaded him with ease and settled to perch on the railing of the rusted fire escape. It bobbed up and down, dancing spitefully out of reach.
"*I'm calling the police!*" It taunted, then wolf-whistled.
"I'll fucking kill you," Thomas, the real Thomas, hissed for the second time that night. The window was a tight squeeze - it was an old building and the windows were huge, but so was Thomas - and he got stuck at the shoulders. The parrot turned its rainbow head from side to side, watching him struggle.
"Oh, fuck this," he panted, adrenaline or anger or whatever it was driving him draining rapidly away. He glared at the parrot. "Nobody's gonna listen to a stupid bird."
The parrot ruffled its feathers and fixed a sharp, red eye on Thomas' sweaty face. Its pupil flashed, flaring up huge and black before shrinking to a vengeful pinprick.
"*Fuck!*" it repeated softly, "*There's nothing in the safe!*"
Thomas swore. He lunged. He made it through the window. His full weight slammed into the railing of the fire escape. It was an old building, and Thomas was huge. Metal screamed in protest (like the old man hadn't, just a short, startled bark and a gurgling wheeze) followed by the crack of a bolt popping free of brick (that was scratched and marked around the bolt like it had been methodically scraped away by something sharp) followed by another scream, a real one this time, as the fire escape jolted just enough for Thomas to lose his balance.
Followed, after some time, by a wet, crunching thump.
The parrot perched on the tilted fire escape railing and ruffled its brightly-colored feathers, chuckling.
| We start as you imaginary friend, taking whatever form you are most comfortable with. I watched you, cared for you, and, I suppose thinking back, I did love you. I loved you in my own way. Some guardians become corrupt, turning their charges insane. I only spoke to you while you were young. Then I was the pleasant breeze in your face on a hot day. I did everything in my power to keep you happy and safe. Until that night. That night ruined me. While you tried, in vain, to fight of the madman that took you from me I fought with his corrupted guardian. But in both cases, madness can grant strength. I lost at nearly the same time you did. As I watched helplessly, the life I fought so hard to make perfect faded from your eyes. I screamed. I howled at the sky.Ranting and raving incoherently as the madman and his corrupt guardian just watched. Then I changed. I changed from the soft breeze on your face. I became the horrible gale. I ripped the essence of his guardian to shreds. Good riddance. I watched, happily, as my wind, my life energy giving it power, peeled the flesh, layer by layer from his bones. And, as I felt my self fading away into eternity to be with you again, I delighted in his horrified screams. Oh how he shrieked and screamed. I didn't know if you would still want me after what I had done. But my last thought as I faded away, was "I love you". | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | I'm a Guardian. And I've just failed my charge. Watching her die helpless, all alone as she took her last breath. I could do nothing as the knife plunged into her. I was helpless then. No longer. It's time I avenged her.
To hunt a man and kill him, one must render him defenseless. I'm an immaterial being, unable to affect the material world nor am I able to influence it directly. So I go directly to his Guardian.
I request his Guardian to stand aside as I enact my revenge. A formality, really. No Guardian would ever willingly let their charge come to harm while they're around. My request denied I ready my plan.
A simple distraction, a trap set and ready. We cannot touch the material, but the intangible? That's our purview. Our weakness and now, my weapon and strength. As he lay dreaming that night, I let lose a few stray nightmares. Nothing strong, not horrific. Just enough to get his Guardian to dispatch them away from him.
I quickly dropped a seed of mania in his mind. Small and insignificant now, but in the rich and fertile fields of his mind, it will grow. I cover it and whisper her name. He'll remember her.
Every night I let lose ever bigger nightmares. And every night his Guardian runs ragged trying to contain them all. Most are contained. And every night I sow more seeds. Discord, doubt, insecurity, fear. I sow and they take root in his mind. By day, his Guardian clears them all.
It doesn't work. Seeds of horror are like weeds. They cling on to you, like burr and grow quickly. Much too quickly. It can't be undone. And so I watch. I watch as madness takes over. And I watch in satisfaction as he steps over the edge and plummets over the edge of the building.
It's time. My charge is dead. My revenge fulfilled. And it's now time for me to receive my punishment. I can feel the call. I think maybe it'll hurt. But that's alright. It was worth it. I smile as I step lightly into the light. | We start as you imaginary friend, taking whatever form you are most comfortable with. I watched you, cared for you, and, I suppose thinking back, I did love you. I loved you in my own way. Some guardians become corrupt, turning their charges insane. I only spoke to you while you were young. Then I was the pleasant breeze in your face on a hot day. I did everything in my power to keep you happy and safe. Until that night. That night ruined me. While you tried, in vain, to fight of the madman that took you from me I fought with his corrupted guardian. But in both cases, madness can grant strength. I lost at nearly the same time you did. As I watched helplessly, the life I fought so hard to make perfect faded from your eyes. I screamed. I howled at the sky.Ranting and raving incoherently as the madman and his corrupt guardian just watched. Then I changed. I changed from the soft breeze on your face. I became the horrible gale. I ripped the essence of his guardian to shreds. Good riddance. I watched, happily, as my wind, my life energy giving it power, peeled the flesh, layer by layer from his bones. And, as I felt my self fading away into eternity to be with you again, I delighted in his horrified screams. Oh how he shrieked and screamed. I didn't know if you would still want me after what I had done. But my last thought as I faded away, was "I love you". | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Folklore calls us guardians. We are not though. We are leeches, we latch onto subconsciousness of a human and feed off of the emotions. When a host dies, we fade back to our own realm/dimension/universe/whatever to use this energy to multiply and prosper. The purer the emotions the more power they give us, and thus we gently steer the host into making good decisions in life (for our benefit).
Remember that ecstatic moment when you first tasted that strawberry ice-cream on a warm summer day? The combination of the sugar rush with the coldness of the ice-cream made you lose your wording and you started giggling. Probably not, you where only 2 at the time. But I remember your joy, that pure joy that only a kid can experience. That emotion powered me up and I reveled in the power and had just enough time to jiggle your mind to not take too large a bite. Brain freeze is not a nice experience for either of us.
I was there when my host first learned to read and write, I was there when he read his first sentence to his parents and felt his pride as they congratulate him.
I was there when he fell off his bike and snapped his arm. The pain was white hot and exhilarating. With a little push to his subconscious I made him remember his fathers teachings about first aid. He made a sling, and the relief and pride he felt felt wonderful to me.
I was there when he watched his favorite superhero movie on the big screen.
I was there when he got accepted into a prestigious university. Pushing him away from late night gaming sessions (for a cheap thrill) so that he would study payed off when the combined feeling of fear, anticipation, relief and joy washed over me when he read that acceptance letter.
I was there on his first date.
I was there when he lost his virginity. Such a beautiful moment for all of us. I winked at the other host's entity. It too knew that the moment was perfect.
I was there when he inevitably broke up with her. Sorrow doesn't feel good, for it is a draining emotion and over too fast (kinda like fast food) so I reminded him of all the great moments he had with her and that all his memories of the relation are positive ones. He grew stronger, and with him his emotions became purer.
And...
I was there when he died.
It was at a party with fellow students in his final year. Tired from studying he just hang around with his friends and one of them had heard of a party happening out of campus, I tried to dissuade him but in the end his friends managed to convince him.
The party was at someone's place in a shady part of town. Alcohol clouded both our senses and I cannot clearly recall how it lead to it. My host got into an argument about drugs with some lowlife at the party and apparently the dispute did not stick well with said lowlife.
At one point his drink got spiked and he was lead to a different area of the house. There on a filthy mattress he was forcefully given a cocktail of many different drugs. The door locked. The reaction was severe, he was flooded with mixed signals, he felt immeasurable joy and his body felt pleasure beyond belief. His mind however did not. As he lay on the ground writhing in ecstasy unable to control himself, his mind was in a clear state, he felt a mortal fear as all his senses told him it was wrong. Compare it to a locked in syndrome, only your body isn't just immobile, it's torturing you.
His stomach tried to expel whatever was wrong but all it did was make the host choke. He died in both ecstasy and agony and at that moment I felt power like no other. The energy was powerful but felt entirely wrong at the same time.
Only... I did not pass on to my own realm. I lingered. The link was severed and I hung there above his lifeless corpse. I felt. For the first time in my existence I felt. We are not ment to have feelings, we just feed on the feelings of others.
But I felt.
I felt sorrow, for losing my host at such a young age. There was so much potential, so much more that he could have done and achieve.
I felt... was that anger? No. It was more, I experienced rage. I. Felt. HATE. I wanted vengeance. And with this power that I had I could have it.
I reached out and found the lowlife. A guy in his late twenties, the kind of guy that deals drugs, steals, and has no empathy for others. I found him on the couch, smoking weed and trying to impress a group of girls 10 years younger than him. His entity was a shell of a being, being fed only the occasional 'pure emotion' when the lowlife relieved himself. All other emotions where artificial from drugs.
For the first time in the history of our kind I committed murder. I snuffed him out and severed his link. I felt joy as the lowlife suffered a tiny sting of utter loneliness.
I linked myself to the lowlife, but not to his subconsciousness, I linked to his entire mind. It was cramped and colorless. There where no ambitions, no dreams, no long term plans. All this scum wanted was to get high and "score bitches", there was a tiny ambition about something called 'street cred' but that would never materialize on purpose.
Linked to a subconsciousness I could only nudge a host. Now that I was linked to an entire mind and with the amount of power I had I could do anything. I could make him into a vegetable, or simply stop his heart, but no, I wanted him to suffer.
The first thing I did was to make his brain immune to drugs. He would never again feel the numbness of weed, the warmth of alcohol, the exhilaration of cocaine, and he would never smell the colors of acid. All that he had now was the cold hard reality of life. He sucked on his joint and puked as the smoke felt unfamiliar and disgusting in his mouth and lungs.
I also wanted him out of there. So I gave him agoraphobia, he instantly began to sweat as he realized he was surrounded by tens of people in a room with very loud music.
He stumbled out the house and limped to his car. As he sat there trying to comprehend what he felt I dragged out the memory of my former host and let it linger behind his every thought. As much as I wanted him to feel regret he was too much of a narcissist to feel empathy. So he drove off into the night instead, trying to outrun his fears. I was in his mind however stuck to him until his death, which would soon follow him.
As he started speeding I managed to burst several blood vessels in his brain causing a pain similar to a white hot knife being thrust in the eye. A cluster headache. I will admit that I enjoyed his screamed of pain. So I let it subside, I let him calm down and the moment he felt relaxed I did it again.
The lowlife lost control and swerved into oncoming traffic and I cursed as he managed to avoid the 20 ton truck, in doing so he did not avoid the barrier and crashed into it.
The engine of his car deflected the barrier and drove it through the drivers side windscreen, a shower of glass and sparks showered his face fractions of a second before the mangled steel plunged into his shoulder. The pain of a snapped arm was nothing compared to rusty serrated steel driving its way through flesh. Finally a pure emotion.
It didn't last long though, he passed out quickly after that. I wasn't having it and gave him another cluster headache. He woke up screaming from the pain in his body. He would die soon due to blood loss and I had to think of a way to not let him go too easy.
I noticed that the gas tank was punctured and it was porring down the side of the car.
I planted the idea in his subconsciousness that yes, a cigarette will help me him calm down.
As the lowlife pressed the car's lighter against the cigarette in his mouth I gave him another stab. He yelped and let the lighter fall... Right into the gasoline.
Flames licked the car and the interior caught fire quickly. He was trapped and burning. The fire seared his flesh and fused his clothes to his skin.
I quickly flashed the images of my former host in front of the lowlife's eyes. The last thing he would see would be of him and the last feeling (besides pain and fear) would be regret.
He died screaming and gurgling. And as his mind faded so did I. There was no afterlife for me, no return to my realm, I simply ceased to exist. We might not be actual "guardians", but for once, I was an Avenger. My host would have liked that. | When opening the door, Jimmy heard a loud crack, and the world swirled around him. It took him several seconds to realize he was lying on the floor coughing up blood. Several seconds later the pain in his jaw set in, and as he stroked his hand against it the jawbone felt shattered to the touch. Soon his filthy apartment came back into view, and standing in it was a large creature clad in metal armour from head to toe. Who the fuck wears armours? His eyes widened as the creature bent down to him and lifted him up by the collar.
"You killed him!" the creature shouted. Its voice sounded hollow as a chapel, like an anguishing soul. "You pitiful little wretch! He was destined for greatness and you murdered him!" The gauntleted fist lifting him up smashed him against the wall, and Jimmy could feel the world starting to fade away again before another crushing blow landed on the other side of his jaw.
"What the fuck man? I didn't kill nobody." Jimmy tried to cry out, though years of using had caused him to let go of many standards he had held dear. He remembered sizing up the mark, realizing that he might have enough valuables to keep him going for a few weeks, and that he would be likely be more trouble dead than alive. "Who the fuck are you man? I'm sorry! I can pay you!" Jimmy wailed. He had faced off angry dealers before, most of the time all they wanted was their money and to prove a point. Nobody wanted dead junkies, when alive junkies made them more money.
The creature lifted Jimmy around and with tremendous force smashed him to the ground under him. Jimmy could feel the air fleeing his body at the traumatic impact, and tried to gasp, leading him to cough up more blood from the shattered jaw.
"I am your undoing. I don't care about your valuables, I don't care about your tragedy, I don't care about the Guardians Code, I don't care about honor. You have no idea how much strife he had already faced, how many challenges he had overcome, YOU DIDN'T CARE, AND NEITHER SHALL I."
Panic set in for full now. His heart raced, his body tingled, his eyes widened at the impending disaster. Jimmy started to realize this wasn't a shakedown. Jimmy started to realize this might actually be it. He watched from the floor as the creature stood up over him. Petrified by dread, fear and pain he watched as the creature unsheathed an engraved broadsword, it looked black, sinister and vicious.
"What the fuck?" Jimmy gasped, as the cold steel penetrated his chest. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | If I knew it was the last few breaths I had left, I would have just sat there and panted for the next 10 seconds of my life. But fight or flight, that's how it works when panic sets in. I knew there was no escaping him this time. Just didn't know exactly what would happen at the moment when he does catch me. Oh what did I do what did I do... Running away from a Ford Escalade in unpatrolled desert late into the night should have given me a clue as to my fate, but you never can really give up, can you? But in the end it was just him ramming into me and ME flying into the air and cracking my head open on a rock. Nothing fancy.
Same can be said about my guardian. He exists, which is cool but he hasn't done much guarding has he. As far as I understand from otherworldly knowledge, he's been hiding my entire life, watching quietly as I endured bullying in high school, repeated muggings and now That. So basically my death was the result of prolonged game of cat and mouse. I died without the pleasure of knowing my deliverer. On January 8 2016, I receive a text which said, "Fast as wind though you may be, Harken, Harken, still not safe you see!". This might have set off a slight case of alarm bells for anyone else, but since I thoroughly believed in my insignificance, I thought it was one of my homies' bad rap compositions. So I reply with "Wazzup, nice rhymes man!" Ya I know I deserved to die for that alone.
Since then every day for three days no matter where I was at 1am, I found myself in the trunk of the Escalade. It's quite spacious I concede but smells kinda weird. So he lets my blindfolded self off at seemingly random locales and I'm free to scream and run away until I'm out of his headlights. Staying at a friend's house, police protection, nothing helped. I am back running every night for three nights.
So this 'guardian' will supposedly 'avenge' me. I mean, what good does that do? Found him rather quickly though......
Want to read more? This is my first post on WP so will if you guys like it. | When opening the door, Jimmy heard a loud crack, and the world swirled around him. It took him several seconds to realize he was lying on the floor coughing up blood. Several seconds later the pain in his jaw set in, and as he stroked his hand against it the jawbone felt shattered to the touch. Soon his filthy apartment came back into view, and standing in it was a large creature clad in metal armour from head to toe. Who the fuck wears armours? His eyes widened as the creature bent down to him and lifted him up by the collar.
"You killed him!" the creature shouted. Its voice sounded hollow as a chapel, like an anguishing soul. "You pitiful little wretch! He was destined for greatness and you murdered him!" The gauntleted fist lifting him up smashed him against the wall, and Jimmy could feel the world starting to fade away again before another crushing blow landed on the other side of his jaw.
"What the fuck man? I didn't kill nobody." Jimmy tried to cry out, though years of using had caused him to let go of many standards he had held dear. He remembered sizing up the mark, realizing that he might have enough valuables to keep him going for a few weeks, and that he would be likely be more trouble dead than alive. "Who the fuck are you man? I'm sorry! I can pay you!" Jimmy wailed. He had faced off angry dealers before, most of the time all they wanted was their money and to prove a point. Nobody wanted dead junkies, when alive junkies made them more money.
The creature lifted Jimmy around and with tremendous force smashed him to the ground under him. Jimmy could feel the air fleeing his body at the traumatic impact, and tried to gasp, leading him to cough up more blood from the shattered jaw.
"I am your undoing. I don't care about your valuables, I don't care about your tragedy, I don't care about the Guardians Code, I don't care about honor. You have no idea how much strife he had already faced, how many challenges he had overcome, YOU DIDN'T CARE, AND NEITHER SHALL I."
Panic set in for full now. His heart raced, his body tingled, his eyes widened at the impending disaster. Jimmy started to realize this wasn't a shakedown. Jimmy started to realize this might actually be it. He watched from the floor as the creature stood up over him. Petrified by dread, fear and pain he watched as the creature unsheathed an engraved broadsword, it looked black, sinister and vicious.
"What the fuck?" Jimmy gasped, as the cold steel penetrated his chest. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | *There couldn't possibly have been a witness. I had done everything I needed to. The duct tape was tight, rope was tight. Even if the drugs hadn't taken hold, she had no way of letting anyone know. This just doesn't make sense.* Jonathan stood in his kitchen, staring at the red liquid on the table. "I know, and I'm coming." He leaned closer and the all too familiar metallic smell of blood wafted into his nostrils. He enjoyed it at first, reminding him of his first kill. But this wasn't it at all- he was afraid. This is the second message he had found in blood since he killed her. Someone was coming after him.
The next day, Jonathan woke up covered in sweat. He had a dream, a nightmare really. All of his victims were chasing him, all armed with the same filet knife he had used on them. He was soaked head to toe in perspiration. *Why is this happening? Those sluts, those whores they had it coming! They deserved it.* The smell of blood wafted into his bedroom sending chills down his spine. Jonathan crept out of bed, his hands trembling as it gripped a baseball bat. He turned the corner to the living room and the third message awaited him. "No one deserves what you did, Jonathan."
He flew into a frenzy. He had to get out of town, now. Go to Canada or something. *I knew that it was a bad idea after I saw that black cat. Probably walked under a ladder too.* Jonathan threw clothes and his valuables into a duffle bag, retrieved the filet knife from under his bed to place in the bag. Again, metal filled the air as blood oozed from the handle of the knife. "AUUGH!" Jonathan dropped the knife and rushed out of the apartment screaming bloody murder. He scaled the stairs of his basement apartment and flew out the foyer door, gasping for air. All he could think about was the girls hair, her screams and her eyes closing as he plunge the knife into her heart. Then, he felt something brush across his bare leg.
It was the black cat. He had seen it in the woods where he buried them. He saw it on his way home from work yesterday. And last night when he went out for a smoke it crossed the parking lot. Jonathan stared in amazement. The cat met his gaze. Instead of the usual yellow eyes with black almonds the cats eyes were completely black. Jonathan began to recoil ad tripped as it started to change.
The cat crew black,leathery skin and its bones elongated with a horrifying creaking noise. It's face grew human and gaunt, till as black as night. The cat morphed into a lumbering monstrosity, 7 feet tall. It's skin clung to its bones and its joints creaked as it stepped closer and closer to Jonathan. The creature's mannequin face stared deep into him.
"Why did you do it Jonathan?"
"I didn't do anything, I swear! Please for the love of God, don't kill me!"
"It's too late Jonathan."
Jonathan felt the filet knife in his hand, oozing with blood again. The creature knelt down and stared deep into Jonathan's eyes as it gripped his wrist. Jonathan was powerless. The life left his arms and his face drained of color as the creature plunged his own knife into his chest. Over and over again, he felt the blood cut through his flesh. With a dying gurgle Jonathan finally collapsed, the knife embedded in his torso.
When the police arrived, the doorman said that he had seen it all. Jonathan emerged from his home, screaming with a filet knife in hand. He stabbed himself bet and over again as he fell to the ground. The doorman noted that there was a cat there that walked by him in the middle of his episode. The police shrugged it off and conducted a search of Jonathan's apartment as found the evidence. The families were notified and brought closure to a tortured few months during his rampage.
Jonathan was buried, with his mother and sister in attendance. Rachel, his most recent victim, was exhumed from her shallow grave and put to rest. The community poured out to pay their respects. In attendance was a curious black cat, who sat at the edge of her tombstone. | When opening the door, Jimmy heard a loud crack, and the world swirled around him. It took him several seconds to realize he was lying on the floor coughing up blood. Several seconds later the pain in his jaw set in, and as he stroked his hand against it the jawbone felt shattered to the touch. Soon his filthy apartment came back into view, and standing in it was a large creature clad in metal armour from head to toe. Who the fuck wears armours? His eyes widened as the creature bent down to him and lifted him up by the collar.
"You killed him!" the creature shouted. Its voice sounded hollow as a chapel, like an anguishing soul. "You pitiful little wretch! He was destined for greatness and you murdered him!" The gauntleted fist lifting him up smashed him against the wall, and Jimmy could feel the world starting to fade away again before another crushing blow landed on the other side of his jaw.
"What the fuck man? I didn't kill nobody." Jimmy tried to cry out, though years of using had caused him to let go of many standards he had held dear. He remembered sizing up the mark, realizing that he might have enough valuables to keep him going for a few weeks, and that he would be likely be more trouble dead than alive. "Who the fuck are you man? I'm sorry! I can pay you!" Jimmy wailed. He had faced off angry dealers before, most of the time all they wanted was their money and to prove a point. Nobody wanted dead junkies, when alive junkies made them more money.
The creature lifted Jimmy around and with tremendous force smashed him to the ground under him. Jimmy could feel the air fleeing his body at the traumatic impact, and tried to gasp, leading him to cough up more blood from the shattered jaw.
"I am your undoing. I don't care about your valuables, I don't care about your tragedy, I don't care about the Guardians Code, I don't care about honor. You have no idea how much strife he had already faced, how many challenges he had overcome, YOU DIDN'T CARE, AND NEITHER SHALL I."
Panic set in for full now. His heart raced, his body tingled, his eyes widened at the impending disaster. Jimmy started to realize this wasn't a shakedown. Jimmy started to realize this might actually be it. He watched from the floor as the creature stood up over him. Petrified by dread, fear and pain he watched as the creature unsheathed an engraved broadsword, it looked black, sinister and vicious.
"What the fuck?" Jimmy gasped, as the cold steel penetrated his chest. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Thomas ran a shaking hand through his wet hair. He picked up the glass from the table, spilling onto his sleeve. He put the glass back on the table, his throat too tight to drink.
The room was silent. He should get a clock, he thought suddenly. A real old-fashioned one, the kind with slender hands and a slow, steady tick to measure the passing of time. *Tick, tick* everything is fine *tick, tick* the world is still turning *tick, tick* see? it's ok.
*Tick, tick.* His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he jerked backwards. He *had* heard it this time. Not the slow, steady, heavy march of time ticking; the sharp, scraping tick of pins on wood.
"*AUWK!*"
"*FUCK!*"
Not pins on wood. His heart clattered against his ribcage. Claws on wood. Or talons? Isn't it talons when they're on a bird? Fuck. There was a bird in the window. The open window. He didn't remember opening the window. But then, he didn't remember a lot of things that had happened after... before he'd come to in the shower, watching the last of the pink trails eddying around his feet and circling the drain...
"*Auwk!*" The bird repeated. Thomas didn't know much about birds, but you didn't need to know that much to realize it was obviously a parrot, bright green with a yellow and blue head. It doubled over, rubbing its beak against the windowsill, *tick, tick.* So, not its claws, or talons, or whatever, after all.
He laughed to ease the pressure in his chest. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He tried to remember if anyone in the building had a parrot, but he wasn't close with his neighbors. In any case, parrots are expensive, and he still needed money. He got up slowly.
The parrot shuffled and muttered like a cranky old man, turning its head to fix him with a reproachful glare.
"Pretty bird," he warbled, "c'mere, pretty bird."
"*Who's there?*" the parrot answered, in a high, frail voice that froze Thomas in his tracks. "*Who's there? I'm calling the police!*"
Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but he couldn't understand how. He felt cold as ice, dry as a desert. Where did it come from?
"*Open the fucking safe!*" *His* voice this time, but tinny, like an old recording. The parrot stared at him, as if daring him to answer.
"You weren't there," he croaked dumbly. He would have remembered. He would have- there just wasn't. Only the old man, and him. And then just him. *He would have remembered.*
The parrot clicked its beak rapidly and bobbed its head, like it was laughing at him. "*I'm calling the police!*"
"You can't," his face felt numb and he wasn't sure if he had said that, or if it was the parrot again. It clicked its beak again, ruffling its bright feathers.
"*Open the fucking safe!*" Thomas said again, but definitely not from his mouth this time. "*I'll fucking kill you if you don't open the fucking safe!*"
Thomas lunged. The parrot, beak clattering like laughter, evaded him with ease and settled to perch on the railing of the rusted fire escape. It bobbed up and down, dancing spitefully out of reach.
"*I'm calling the police!*" It taunted, then wolf-whistled.
"I'll fucking kill you," Thomas, the real Thomas, hissed for the second time that night. The window was a tight squeeze - it was an old building and the windows were huge, but so was Thomas - and he got stuck at the shoulders. The parrot turned its rainbow head from side to side, watching him struggle.
"Oh, fuck this," he panted, adrenaline or anger or whatever it was driving him draining rapidly away. He glared at the parrot. "Nobody's gonna listen to a stupid bird."
The parrot ruffled its feathers and fixed a sharp, red eye on Thomas' sweaty face. Its pupil flashed, flaring up huge and black before shrinking to a vengeful pinprick.
"*Fuck!*" it repeated softly, "*There's nothing in the safe!*"
Thomas swore. He lunged. He made it through the window. His full weight slammed into the railing of the fire escape. It was an old building, and Thomas was huge. Metal screamed in protest (like the old man hadn't, just a short, startled bark and a gurgling wheeze) followed by the crack of a bolt popping free of brick (that was scratched and marked around the bolt like it had been methodically scraped away by something sharp) followed by another scream, a real one this time, as the fire escape jolted just enough for Thomas to lose his balance.
Followed, after some time, by a wet, crunching thump.
The parrot perched on the tilted fire escape railing and ruffled its brightly-colored feathers, chuckling.
| When opening the door, Jimmy heard a loud crack, and the world swirled around him. It took him several seconds to realize he was lying on the floor coughing up blood. Several seconds later the pain in his jaw set in, and as he stroked his hand against it the jawbone felt shattered to the touch. Soon his filthy apartment came back into view, and standing in it was a large creature clad in metal armour from head to toe. Who the fuck wears armours? His eyes widened as the creature bent down to him and lifted him up by the collar.
"You killed him!" the creature shouted. Its voice sounded hollow as a chapel, like an anguishing soul. "You pitiful little wretch! He was destined for greatness and you murdered him!" The gauntleted fist lifting him up smashed him against the wall, and Jimmy could feel the world starting to fade away again before another crushing blow landed on the other side of his jaw.
"What the fuck man? I didn't kill nobody." Jimmy tried to cry out, though years of using had caused him to let go of many standards he had held dear. He remembered sizing up the mark, realizing that he might have enough valuables to keep him going for a few weeks, and that he would be likely be more trouble dead than alive. "Who the fuck are you man? I'm sorry! I can pay you!" Jimmy wailed. He had faced off angry dealers before, most of the time all they wanted was their money and to prove a point. Nobody wanted dead junkies, when alive junkies made them more money.
The creature lifted Jimmy around and with tremendous force smashed him to the ground under him. Jimmy could feel the air fleeing his body at the traumatic impact, and tried to gasp, leading him to cough up more blood from the shattered jaw.
"I am your undoing. I don't care about your valuables, I don't care about your tragedy, I don't care about the Guardians Code, I don't care about honor. You have no idea how much strife he had already faced, how many challenges he had overcome, YOU DIDN'T CARE, AND NEITHER SHALL I."
Panic set in for full now. His heart raced, his body tingled, his eyes widened at the impending disaster. Jimmy started to realize this wasn't a shakedown. Jimmy started to realize this might actually be it. He watched from the floor as the creature stood up over him. Petrified by dread, fear and pain he watched as the creature unsheathed an engraved broadsword, it looked black, sinister and vicious.
"What the fuck?" Jimmy gasped, as the cold steel penetrated his chest. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | I'm a Guardian. And I've just failed my charge. Watching her die helpless, all alone as she took her last breath. I could do nothing as the knife plunged into her. I was helpless then. No longer. It's time I avenged her.
To hunt a man and kill him, one must render him defenseless. I'm an immaterial being, unable to affect the material world nor am I able to influence it directly. So I go directly to his Guardian.
I request his Guardian to stand aside as I enact my revenge. A formality, really. No Guardian would ever willingly let their charge come to harm while they're around. My request denied I ready my plan.
A simple distraction, a trap set and ready. We cannot touch the material, but the intangible? That's our purview. Our weakness and now, my weapon and strength. As he lay dreaming that night, I let lose a few stray nightmares. Nothing strong, not horrific. Just enough to get his Guardian to dispatch them away from him.
I quickly dropped a seed of mania in his mind. Small and insignificant now, but in the rich and fertile fields of his mind, it will grow. I cover it and whisper her name. He'll remember her.
Every night I let lose ever bigger nightmares. And every night his Guardian runs ragged trying to contain them all. Most are contained. And every night I sow more seeds. Discord, doubt, insecurity, fear. I sow and they take root in his mind. By day, his Guardian clears them all.
It doesn't work. Seeds of horror are like weeds. They cling on to you, like burr and grow quickly. Much too quickly. It can't be undone. And so I watch. I watch as madness takes over. And I watch in satisfaction as he steps over the edge and plummets over the edge of the building.
It's time. My charge is dead. My revenge fulfilled. And it's now time for me to receive my punishment. I can feel the call. I think maybe it'll hurt. But that's alright. It was worth it. I smile as I step lightly into the light. | When opening the door, Jimmy heard a loud crack, and the world swirled around him. It took him several seconds to realize he was lying on the floor coughing up blood. Several seconds later the pain in his jaw set in, and as he stroked his hand against it the jawbone felt shattered to the touch. Soon his filthy apartment came back into view, and standing in it was a large creature clad in metal armour from head to toe. Who the fuck wears armours? His eyes widened as the creature bent down to him and lifted him up by the collar.
"You killed him!" the creature shouted. Its voice sounded hollow as a chapel, like an anguishing soul. "You pitiful little wretch! He was destined for greatness and you murdered him!" The gauntleted fist lifting him up smashed him against the wall, and Jimmy could feel the world starting to fade away again before another crushing blow landed on the other side of his jaw.
"What the fuck man? I didn't kill nobody." Jimmy tried to cry out, though years of using had caused him to let go of many standards he had held dear. He remembered sizing up the mark, realizing that he might have enough valuables to keep him going for a few weeks, and that he would be likely be more trouble dead than alive. "Who the fuck are you man? I'm sorry! I can pay you!" Jimmy wailed. He had faced off angry dealers before, most of the time all they wanted was their money and to prove a point. Nobody wanted dead junkies, when alive junkies made them more money.
The creature lifted Jimmy around and with tremendous force smashed him to the ground under him. Jimmy could feel the air fleeing his body at the traumatic impact, and tried to gasp, leading him to cough up more blood from the shattered jaw.
"I am your undoing. I don't care about your valuables, I don't care about your tragedy, I don't care about the Guardians Code, I don't care about honor. You have no idea how much strife he had already faced, how many challenges he had overcome, YOU DIDN'T CARE, AND NEITHER SHALL I."
Panic set in for full now. His heart raced, his body tingled, his eyes widened at the impending disaster. Jimmy started to realize this wasn't a shakedown. Jimmy started to realize this might actually be it. He watched from the floor as the creature stood up over him. Petrified by dread, fear and pain he watched as the creature unsheathed an engraved broadsword, it looked black, sinister and vicious.
"What the fuck?" Jimmy gasped, as the cold steel penetrated his chest. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Folklore calls us guardians. We are not though. We are leeches, we latch onto subconsciousness of a human and feed off of the emotions. When a host dies, we fade back to our own realm/dimension/universe/whatever to use this energy to multiply and prosper. The purer the emotions the more power they give us, and thus we gently steer the host into making good decisions in life (for our benefit).
Remember that ecstatic moment when you first tasted that strawberry ice-cream on a warm summer day? The combination of the sugar rush with the coldness of the ice-cream made you lose your wording and you started giggling. Probably not, you where only 2 at the time. But I remember your joy, that pure joy that only a kid can experience. That emotion powered me up and I reveled in the power and had just enough time to jiggle your mind to not take too large a bite. Brain freeze is not a nice experience for either of us.
I was there when my host first learned to read and write, I was there when he read his first sentence to his parents and felt his pride as they congratulate him.
I was there when he fell off his bike and snapped his arm. The pain was white hot and exhilarating. With a little push to his subconscious I made him remember his fathers teachings about first aid. He made a sling, and the relief and pride he felt felt wonderful to me.
I was there when he watched his favorite superhero movie on the big screen.
I was there when he got accepted into a prestigious university. Pushing him away from late night gaming sessions (for a cheap thrill) so that he would study payed off when the combined feeling of fear, anticipation, relief and joy washed over me when he read that acceptance letter.
I was there on his first date.
I was there when he lost his virginity. Such a beautiful moment for all of us. I winked at the other host's entity. It too knew that the moment was perfect.
I was there when he inevitably broke up with her. Sorrow doesn't feel good, for it is a draining emotion and over too fast (kinda like fast food) so I reminded him of all the great moments he had with her and that all his memories of the relation are positive ones. He grew stronger, and with him his emotions became purer.
And...
I was there when he died.
It was at a party with fellow students in his final year. Tired from studying he just hang around with his friends and one of them had heard of a party happening out of campus, I tried to dissuade him but in the end his friends managed to convince him.
The party was at someone's place in a shady part of town. Alcohol clouded both our senses and I cannot clearly recall how it lead to it. My host got into an argument about drugs with some lowlife at the party and apparently the dispute did not stick well with said lowlife.
At one point his drink got spiked and he was lead to a different area of the house. There on a filthy mattress he was forcefully given a cocktail of many different drugs. The door locked. The reaction was severe, he was flooded with mixed signals, he felt immeasurable joy and his body felt pleasure beyond belief. His mind however did not. As he lay on the ground writhing in ecstasy unable to control himself, his mind was in a clear state, he felt a mortal fear as all his senses told him it was wrong. Compare it to a locked in syndrome, only your body isn't just immobile, it's torturing you.
His stomach tried to expel whatever was wrong but all it did was make the host choke. He died in both ecstasy and agony and at that moment I felt power like no other. The energy was powerful but felt entirely wrong at the same time.
Only... I did not pass on to my own realm. I lingered. The link was severed and I hung there above his lifeless corpse. I felt. For the first time in my existence I felt. We are not ment to have feelings, we just feed on the feelings of others.
But I felt.
I felt sorrow, for losing my host at such a young age. There was so much potential, so much more that he could have done and achieve.
I felt... was that anger? No. It was more, I experienced rage. I. Felt. HATE. I wanted vengeance. And with this power that I had I could have it.
I reached out and found the lowlife. A guy in his late twenties, the kind of guy that deals drugs, steals, and has no empathy for others. I found him on the couch, smoking weed and trying to impress a group of girls 10 years younger than him. His entity was a shell of a being, being fed only the occasional 'pure emotion' when the lowlife relieved himself. All other emotions where artificial from drugs.
For the first time in the history of our kind I committed murder. I snuffed him out and severed his link. I felt joy as the lowlife suffered a tiny sting of utter loneliness.
I linked myself to the lowlife, but not to his subconsciousness, I linked to his entire mind. It was cramped and colorless. There where no ambitions, no dreams, no long term plans. All this scum wanted was to get high and "score bitches", there was a tiny ambition about something called 'street cred' but that would never materialize on purpose.
Linked to a subconsciousness I could only nudge a host. Now that I was linked to an entire mind and with the amount of power I had I could do anything. I could make him into a vegetable, or simply stop his heart, but no, I wanted him to suffer.
The first thing I did was to make his brain immune to drugs. He would never again feel the numbness of weed, the warmth of alcohol, the exhilaration of cocaine, and he would never smell the colors of acid. All that he had now was the cold hard reality of life. He sucked on his joint and puked as the smoke felt unfamiliar and disgusting in his mouth and lungs.
I also wanted him out of there. So I gave him agoraphobia, he instantly began to sweat as he realized he was surrounded by tens of people in a room with very loud music.
He stumbled out the house and limped to his car. As he sat there trying to comprehend what he felt I dragged out the memory of my former host and let it linger behind his every thought. As much as I wanted him to feel regret he was too much of a narcissist to feel empathy. So he drove off into the night instead, trying to outrun his fears. I was in his mind however stuck to him until his death, which would soon follow him.
As he started speeding I managed to burst several blood vessels in his brain causing a pain similar to a white hot knife being thrust in the eye. A cluster headache. I will admit that I enjoyed his screamed of pain. So I let it subside, I let him calm down and the moment he felt relaxed I did it again.
The lowlife lost control and swerved into oncoming traffic and I cursed as he managed to avoid the 20 ton truck, in doing so he did not avoid the barrier and crashed into it.
The engine of his car deflected the barrier and drove it through the drivers side windscreen, a shower of glass and sparks showered his face fractions of a second before the mangled steel plunged into his shoulder. The pain of a snapped arm was nothing compared to rusty serrated steel driving its way through flesh. Finally a pure emotion.
It didn't last long though, he passed out quickly after that. I wasn't having it and gave him another cluster headache. He woke up screaming from the pain in his body. He would die soon due to blood loss and I had to think of a way to not let him go too easy.
I noticed that the gas tank was punctured and it was porring down the side of the car.
I planted the idea in his subconsciousness that yes, a cigarette will help me him calm down.
As the lowlife pressed the car's lighter against the cigarette in his mouth I gave him another stab. He yelped and let the lighter fall... Right into the gasoline.
Flames licked the car and the interior caught fire quickly. He was trapped and burning. The fire seared his flesh and fused his clothes to his skin.
I quickly flashed the images of my former host in front of the lowlife's eyes. The last thing he would see would be of him and the last feeling (besides pain and fear) would be regret.
He died screaming and gurgling. And as his mind faded so did I. There was no afterlife for me, no return to my realm, I simply ceased to exist. We might not be actual "guardians", but for once, I was an Avenger. My host would have liked that. | The vent was cold but the three of them didn't mind. It was dark and the air was moist and that was the way they liked it. They had built their shared web near the grate so they could slip in and out at will. So they could observe the man they had been sent to deal with.
It was almost ironic to them. For almost three decades spiders like them had been the protectors had kept a watch on their charge, a person who was deathly afraid of and hated spiders like them. But, no matter how many of their kind he killed, the spiders fulfilled their duty and kept the vigil through generations of arachnids. When one would pass another would take the lead. They were always watching, always waiting.
On the night it happened only one of the three saw it go down. It all happened so quickly. The little black spider with spindly legs tried to intervene but was too small to do anything on its own. It was only a watcher after all. The protectors, the bigger ones lived deep in the house, hidden from view. When it was all over and its charge was dead the small spider crawled up the body to his face. If he was still alive it knew it might lose its own life but perhaps the shock of it walking the skin might bring him back. But it was useless, he was dead.
it wasn't over. The spider had seen the killer as clear as day through its dozen unblinking eyes. It knew what had be done. Slowly it made its way down to the crawlspace in the basement where the others lived. In clicks and clacks it delivered the news. The spiders looked at each other and knew what had to be done. It was time to do their duty.
The scout spiders scoured the city. Everywhere was searched. No face went unseen. A week later a scout came back and told the rest the killer had been found. Three were chosen to go and exact the revenge; the small one who saw it happen and two larger ones who could do real damage.
They had living in this vent now for days. They made their presence known but they were always just out of view. The killer could never seem to catch them. Tonight was the night they made their final advance.
The small one watched all day until the sun had set and the killer had gone to bed and turned out the lights. The little spider crawled back into the vent and woke the other two who were nestled in their webs. Together they left to take their positions. One on the ceiling for dramatic entrance. The other under the covers for stealth approach.
They waited until the killer had fallen into a deep sleep. Until nothing would wake them up. The first descended from the ceiling on a single strand of silk and hung above the face. The others found soft spots; the inside of the thigh and fleshy abdomen. With a single click it was time. And the fangs came out...
*Writing this gave me the creepy crawlies.* | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | If I knew it was the last few breaths I had left, I would have just sat there and panted for the next 10 seconds of my life. But fight or flight, that's how it works when panic sets in. I knew there was no escaping him this time. Just didn't know exactly what would happen at the moment when he does catch me. Oh what did I do what did I do... Running away from a Ford Escalade in unpatrolled desert late into the night should have given me a clue as to my fate, but you never can really give up, can you? But in the end it was just him ramming into me and ME flying into the air and cracking my head open on a rock. Nothing fancy.
Same can be said about my guardian. He exists, which is cool but he hasn't done much guarding has he. As far as I understand from otherworldly knowledge, he's been hiding my entire life, watching quietly as I endured bullying in high school, repeated muggings and now That. So basically my death was the result of prolonged game of cat and mouse. I died without the pleasure of knowing my deliverer. On January 8 2016, I receive a text which said, "Fast as wind though you may be, Harken, Harken, still not safe you see!". This might have set off a slight case of alarm bells for anyone else, but since I thoroughly believed in my insignificance, I thought it was one of my homies' bad rap compositions. So I reply with "Wazzup, nice rhymes man!" Ya I know I deserved to die for that alone.
Since then every day for three days no matter where I was at 1am, I found myself in the trunk of the Escalade. It's quite spacious I concede but smells kinda weird. So he lets my blindfolded self off at seemingly random locales and I'm free to scream and run away until I'm out of his headlights. Staying at a friend's house, police protection, nothing helped. I am back running every night for three nights.
So this 'guardian' will supposedly 'avenge' me. I mean, what good does that do? Found him rather quickly though......
Want to read more? This is my first post on WP so will if you guys like it. | The vent was cold but the three of them didn't mind. It was dark and the air was moist and that was the way they liked it. They had built their shared web near the grate so they could slip in and out at will. So they could observe the man they had been sent to deal with.
It was almost ironic to them. For almost three decades spiders like them had been the protectors had kept a watch on their charge, a person who was deathly afraid of and hated spiders like them. But, no matter how many of their kind he killed, the spiders fulfilled their duty and kept the vigil through generations of arachnids. When one would pass another would take the lead. They were always watching, always waiting.
On the night it happened only one of the three saw it go down. It all happened so quickly. The little black spider with spindly legs tried to intervene but was too small to do anything on its own. It was only a watcher after all. The protectors, the bigger ones lived deep in the house, hidden from view. When it was all over and its charge was dead the small spider crawled up the body to his face. If he was still alive it knew it might lose its own life but perhaps the shock of it walking the skin might bring him back. But it was useless, he was dead.
it wasn't over. The spider had seen the killer as clear as day through its dozen unblinking eyes. It knew what had be done. Slowly it made its way down to the crawlspace in the basement where the others lived. In clicks and clacks it delivered the news. The spiders looked at each other and knew what had to be done. It was time to do their duty.
The scout spiders scoured the city. Everywhere was searched. No face went unseen. A week later a scout came back and told the rest the killer had been found. Three were chosen to go and exact the revenge; the small one who saw it happen and two larger ones who could do real damage.
They had living in this vent now for days. They made their presence known but they were always just out of view. The killer could never seem to catch them. Tonight was the night they made their final advance.
The small one watched all day until the sun had set and the killer had gone to bed and turned out the lights. The little spider crawled back into the vent and woke the other two who were nestled in their webs. Together they left to take their positions. One on the ceiling for dramatic entrance. The other under the covers for stealth approach.
They waited until the killer had fallen into a deep sleep. Until nothing would wake them up. The first descended from the ceiling on a single strand of silk and hung above the face. The others found soft spots; the inside of the thigh and fleshy abdomen. With a single click it was time. And the fangs came out...
*Writing this gave me the creepy crawlies.* | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | *There couldn't possibly have been a witness. I had done everything I needed to. The duct tape was tight, rope was tight. Even if the drugs hadn't taken hold, she had no way of letting anyone know. This just doesn't make sense.* Jonathan stood in his kitchen, staring at the red liquid on the table. "I know, and I'm coming." He leaned closer and the all too familiar metallic smell of blood wafted into his nostrils. He enjoyed it at first, reminding him of his first kill. But this wasn't it at all- he was afraid. This is the second message he had found in blood since he killed her. Someone was coming after him.
The next day, Jonathan woke up covered in sweat. He had a dream, a nightmare really. All of his victims were chasing him, all armed with the same filet knife he had used on them. He was soaked head to toe in perspiration. *Why is this happening? Those sluts, those whores they had it coming! They deserved it.* The smell of blood wafted into his bedroom sending chills down his spine. Jonathan crept out of bed, his hands trembling as it gripped a baseball bat. He turned the corner to the living room and the third message awaited him. "No one deserves what you did, Jonathan."
He flew into a frenzy. He had to get out of town, now. Go to Canada or something. *I knew that it was a bad idea after I saw that black cat. Probably walked under a ladder too.* Jonathan threw clothes and his valuables into a duffle bag, retrieved the filet knife from under his bed to place in the bag. Again, metal filled the air as blood oozed from the handle of the knife. "AUUGH!" Jonathan dropped the knife and rushed out of the apartment screaming bloody murder. He scaled the stairs of his basement apartment and flew out the foyer door, gasping for air. All he could think about was the girls hair, her screams and her eyes closing as he plunge the knife into her heart. Then, he felt something brush across his bare leg.
It was the black cat. He had seen it in the woods where he buried them. He saw it on his way home from work yesterday. And last night when he went out for a smoke it crossed the parking lot. Jonathan stared in amazement. The cat met his gaze. Instead of the usual yellow eyes with black almonds the cats eyes were completely black. Jonathan began to recoil ad tripped as it started to change.
The cat crew black,leathery skin and its bones elongated with a horrifying creaking noise. It's face grew human and gaunt, till as black as night. The cat morphed into a lumbering monstrosity, 7 feet tall. It's skin clung to its bones and its joints creaked as it stepped closer and closer to Jonathan. The creature's mannequin face stared deep into him.
"Why did you do it Jonathan?"
"I didn't do anything, I swear! Please for the love of God, don't kill me!"
"It's too late Jonathan."
Jonathan felt the filet knife in his hand, oozing with blood again. The creature knelt down and stared deep into Jonathan's eyes as it gripped his wrist. Jonathan was powerless. The life left his arms and his face drained of color as the creature plunged his own knife into his chest. Over and over again, he felt the blood cut through his flesh. With a dying gurgle Jonathan finally collapsed, the knife embedded in his torso.
When the police arrived, the doorman said that he had seen it all. Jonathan emerged from his home, screaming with a filet knife in hand. He stabbed himself bet and over again as he fell to the ground. The doorman noted that there was a cat there that walked by him in the middle of his episode. The police shrugged it off and conducted a search of Jonathan's apartment as found the evidence. The families were notified and brought closure to a tortured few months during his rampage.
Jonathan was buried, with his mother and sister in attendance. Rachel, his most recent victim, was exhumed from her shallow grave and put to rest. The community poured out to pay their respects. In attendance was a curious black cat, who sat at the edge of her tombstone. | The vent was cold but the three of them didn't mind. It was dark and the air was moist and that was the way they liked it. They had built their shared web near the grate so they could slip in and out at will. So they could observe the man they had been sent to deal with.
It was almost ironic to them. For almost three decades spiders like them had been the protectors had kept a watch on their charge, a person who was deathly afraid of and hated spiders like them. But, no matter how many of their kind he killed, the spiders fulfilled their duty and kept the vigil through generations of arachnids. When one would pass another would take the lead. They were always watching, always waiting.
On the night it happened only one of the three saw it go down. It all happened so quickly. The little black spider with spindly legs tried to intervene but was too small to do anything on its own. It was only a watcher after all. The protectors, the bigger ones lived deep in the house, hidden from view. When it was all over and its charge was dead the small spider crawled up the body to his face. If he was still alive it knew it might lose its own life but perhaps the shock of it walking the skin might bring him back. But it was useless, he was dead.
it wasn't over. The spider had seen the killer as clear as day through its dozen unblinking eyes. It knew what had be done. Slowly it made its way down to the crawlspace in the basement where the others lived. In clicks and clacks it delivered the news. The spiders looked at each other and knew what had to be done. It was time to do their duty.
The scout spiders scoured the city. Everywhere was searched. No face went unseen. A week later a scout came back and told the rest the killer had been found. Three were chosen to go and exact the revenge; the small one who saw it happen and two larger ones who could do real damage.
They had living in this vent now for days. They made their presence known but they were always just out of view. The killer could never seem to catch them. Tonight was the night they made their final advance.
The small one watched all day until the sun had set and the killer had gone to bed and turned out the lights. The little spider crawled back into the vent and woke the other two who were nestled in their webs. Together they left to take their positions. One on the ceiling for dramatic entrance. The other under the covers for stealth approach.
They waited until the killer had fallen into a deep sleep. Until nothing would wake them up. The first descended from the ceiling on a single strand of silk and hung above the face. The others found soft spots; the inside of the thigh and fleshy abdomen. With a single click it was time. And the fangs came out...
*Writing this gave me the creepy crawlies.* | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Thomas ran a shaking hand through his wet hair. He picked up the glass from the table, spilling onto his sleeve. He put the glass back on the table, his throat too tight to drink.
The room was silent. He should get a clock, he thought suddenly. A real old-fashioned one, the kind with slender hands and a slow, steady tick to measure the passing of time. *Tick, tick* everything is fine *tick, tick* the world is still turning *tick, tick* see? it's ok.
*Tick, tick.* His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he jerked backwards. He *had* heard it this time. Not the slow, steady, heavy march of time ticking; the sharp, scraping tick of pins on wood.
"*AUWK!*"
"*FUCK!*"
Not pins on wood. His heart clattered against his ribcage. Claws on wood. Or talons? Isn't it talons when they're on a bird? Fuck. There was a bird in the window. The open window. He didn't remember opening the window. But then, he didn't remember a lot of things that had happened after... before he'd come to in the shower, watching the last of the pink trails eddying around his feet and circling the drain...
"*Auwk!*" The bird repeated. Thomas didn't know much about birds, but you didn't need to know that much to realize it was obviously a parrot, bright green with a yellow and blue head. It doubled over, rubbing its beak against the windowsill, *tick, tick.* So, not its claws, or talons, or whatever, after all.
He laughed to ease the pressure in his chest. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He tried to remember if anyone in the building had a parrot, but he wasn't close with his neighbors. In any case, parrots are expensive, and he still needed money. He got up slowly.
The parrot shuffled and muttered like a cranky old man, turning its head to fix him with a reproachful glare.
"Pretty bird," he warbled, "c'mere, pretty bird."
"*Who's there?*" the parrot answered, in a high, frail voice that froze Thomas in his tracks. "*Who's there? I'm calling the police!*"
Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but he couldn't understand how. He felt cold as ice, dry as a desert. Where did it come from?
"*Open the fucking safe!*" *His* voice this time, but tinny, like an old recording. The parrot stared at him, as if daring him to answer.
"You weren't there," he croaked dumbly. He would have remembered. He would have- there just wasn't. Only the old man, and him. And then just him. *He would have remembered.*
The parrot clicked its beak rapidly and bobbed its head, like it was laughing at him. "*I'm calling the police!*"
"You can't," his face felt numb and he wasn't sure if he had said that, or if it was the parrot again. It clicked its beak again, ruffling its bright feathers.
"*Open the fucking safe!*" Thomas said again, but definitely not from his mouth this time. "*I'll fucking kill you if you don't open the fucking safe!*"
Thomas lunged. The parrot, beak clattering like laughter, evaded him with ease and settled to perch on the railing of the rusted fire escape. It bobbed up and down, dancing spitefully out of reach.
"*I'm calling the police!*" It taunted, then wolf-whistled.
"I'll fucking kill you," Thomas, the real Thomas, hissed for the second time that night. The window was a tight squeeze - it was an old building and the windows were huge, but so was Thomas - and he got stuck at the shoulders. The parrot turned its rainbow head from side to side, watching him struggle.
"Oh, fuck this," he panted, adrenaline or anger or whatever it was driving him draining rapidly away. He glared at the parrot. "Nobody's gonna listen to a stupid bird."
The parrot ruffled its feathers and fixed a sharp, red eye on Thomas' sweaty face. Its pupil flashed, flaring up huge and black before shrinking to a vengeful pinprick.
"*Fuck!*" it repeated softly, "*There's nothing in the safe!*"
Thomas swore. He lunged. He made it through the window. His full weight slammed into the railing of the fire escape. It was an old building, and Thomas was huge. Metal screamed in protest (like the old man hadn't, just a short, startled bark and a gurgling wheeze) followed by the crack of a bolt popping free of brick (that was scratched and marked around the bolt like it had been methodically scraped away by something sharp) followed by another scream, a real one this time, as the fire escape jolted just enough for Thomas to lose his balance.
Followed, after some time, by a wet, crunching thump.
The parrot perched on the tilted fire escape railing and ruffled its brightly-colored feathers, chuckling.
| The vent was cold but the three of them didn't mind. It was dark and the air was moist and that was the way they liked it. They had built their shared web near the grate so they could slip in and out at will. So they could observe the man they had been sent to deal with.
It was almost ironic to them. For almost three decades spiders like them had been the protectors had kept a watch on their charge, a person who was deathly afraid of and hated spiders like them. But, no matter how many of their kind he killed, the spiders fulfilled their duty and kept the vigil through generations of arachnids. When one would pass another would take the lead. They were always watching, always waiting.
On the night it happened only one of the three saw it go down. It all happened so quickly. The little black spider with spindly legs tried to intervene but was too small to do anything on its own. It was only a watcher after all. The protectors, the bigger ones lived deep in the house, hidden from view. When it was all over and its charge was dead the small spider crawled up the body to his face. If he was still alive it knew it might lose its own life but perhaps the shock of it walking the skin might bring him back. But it was useless, he was dead.
it wasn't over. The spider had seen the killer as clear as day through its dozen unblinking eyes. It knew what had be done. Slowly it made its way down to the crawlspace in the basement where the others lived. In clicks and clacks it delivered the news. The spiders looked at each other and knew what had to be done. It was time to do their duty.
The scout spiders scoured the city. Everywhere was searched. No face went unseen. A week later a scout came back and told the rest the killer had been found. Three were chosen to go and exact the revenge; the small one who saw it happen and two larger ones who could do real damage.
They had living in this vent now for days. They made their presence known but they were always just out of view. The killer could never seem to catch them. Tonight was the night they made their final advance.
The small one watched all day until the sun had set and the killer had gone to bed and turned out the lights. The little spider crawled back into the vent and woke the other two who were nestled in their webs. Together they left to take their positions. One on the ceiling for dramatic entrance. The other under the covers for stealth approach.
They waited until the killer had fallen into a deep sleep. Until nothing would wake them up. The first descended from the ceiling on a single strand of silk and hung above the face. The others found soft spots; the inside of the thigh and fleshy abdomen. With a single click it was time. And the fangs came out...
*Writing this gave me the creepy crawlies.* | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Folklore calls us guardians. We are not though. We are leeches, we latch onto subconsciousness of a human and feed off of the emotions. When a host dies, we fade back to our own realm/dimension/universe/whatever to use this energy to multiply and prosper. The purer the emotions the more power they give us, and thus we gently steer the host into making good decisions in life (for our benefit).
Remember that ecstatic moment when you first tasted that strawberry ice-cream on a warm summer day? The combination of the sugar rush with the coldness of the ice-cream made you lose your wording and you started giggling. Probably not, you where only 2 at the time. But I remember your joy, that pure joy that only a kid can experience. That emotion powered me up and I reveled in the power and had just enough time to jiggle your mind to not take too large a bite. Brain freeze is not a nice experience for either of us.
I was there when my host first learned to read and write, I was there when he read his first sentence to his parents and felt his pride as they congratulate him.
I was there when he fell off his bike and snapped his arm. The pain was white hot and exhilarating. With a little push to his subconscious I made him remember his fathers teachings about first aid. He made a sling, and the relief and pride he felt felt wonderful to me.
I was there when he watched his favorite superhero movie on the big screen.
I was there when he got accepted into a prestigious university. Pushing him away from late night gaming sessions (for a cheap thrill) so that he would study payed off when the combined feeling of fear, anticipation, relief and joy washed over me when he read that acceptance letter.
I was there on his first date.
I was there when he lost his virginity. Such a beautiful moment for all of us. I winked at the other host's entity. It too knew that the moment was perfect.
I was there when he inevitably broke up with her. Sorrow doesn't feel good, for it is a draining emotion and over too fast (kinda like fast food) so I reminded him of all the great moments he had with her and that all his memories of the relation are positive ones. He grew stronger, and with him his emotions became purer.
And...
I was there when he died.
It was at a party with fellow students in his final year. Tired from studying he just hang around with his friends and one of them had heard of a party happening out of campus, I tried to dissuade him but in the end his friends managed to convince him.
The party was at someone's place in a shady part of town. Alcohol clouded both our senses and I cannot clearly recall how it lead to it. My host got into an argument about drugs with some lowlife at the party and apparently the dispute did not stick well with said lowlife.
At one point his drink got spiked and he was lead to a different area of the house. There on a filthy mattress he was forcefully given a cocktail of many different drugs. The door locked. The reaction was severe, he was flooded with mixed signals, he felt immeasurable joy and his body felt pleasure beyond belief. His mind however did not. As he lay on the ground writhing in ecstasy unable to control himself, his mind was in a clear state, he felt a mortal fear as all his senses told him it was wrong. Compare it to a locked in syndrome, only your body isn't just immobile, it's torturing you.
His stomach tried to expel whatever was wrong but all it did was make the host choke. He died in both ecstasy and agony and at that moment I felt power like no other. The energy was powerful but felt entirely wrong at the same time.
Only... I did not pass on to my own realm. I lingered. The link was severed and I hung there above his lifeless corpse. I felt. For the first time in my existence I felt. We are not ment to have feelings, we just feed on the feelings of others.
But I felt.
I felt sorrow, for losing my host at such a young age. There was so much potential, so much more that he could have done and achieve.
I felt... was that anger? No. It was more, I experienced rage. I. Felt. HATE. I wanted vengeance. And with this power that I had I could have it.
I reached out and found the lowlife. A guy in his late twenties, the kind of guy that deals drugs, steals, and has no empathy for others. I found him on the couch, smoking weed and trying to impress a group of girls 10 years younger than him. His entity was a shell of a being, being fed only the occasional 'pure emotion' when the lowlife relieved himself. All other emotions where artificial from drugs.
For the first time in the history of our kind I committed murder. I snuffed him out and severed his link. I felt joy as the lowlife suffered a tiny sting of utter loneliness.
I linked myself to the lowlife, but not to his subconsciousness, I linked to his entire mind. It was cramped and colorless. There where no ambitions, no dreams, no long term plans. All this scum wanted was to get high and "score bitches", there was a tiny ambition about something called 'street cred' but that would never materialize on purpose.
Linked to a subconsciousness I could only nudge a host. Now that I was linked to an entire mind and with the amount of power I had I could do anything. I could make him into a vegetable, or simply stop his heart, but no, I wanted him to suffer.
The first thing I did was to make his brain immune to drugs. He would never again feel the numbness of weed, the warmth of alcohol, the exhilaration of cocaine, and he would never smell the colors of acid. All that he had now was the cold hard reality of life. He sucked on his joint and puked as the smoke felt unfamiliar and disgusting in his mouth and lungs.
I also wanted him out of there. So I gave him agoraphobia, he instantly began to sweat as he realized he was surrounded by tens of people in a room with very loud music.
He stumbled out the house and limped to his car. As he sat there trying to comprehend what he felt I dragged out the memory of my former host and let it linger behind his every thought. As much as I wanted him to feel regret he was too much of a narcissist to feel empathy. So he drove off into the night instead, trying to outrun his fears. I was in his mind however stuck to him until his death, which would soon follow him.
As he started speeding I managed to burst several blood vessels in his brain causing a pain similar to a white hot knife being thrust in the eye. A cluster headache. I will admit that I enjoyed his screamed of pain. So I let it subside, I let him calm down and the moment he felt relaxed I did it again.
The lowlife lost control and swerved into oncoming traffic and I cursed as he managed to avoid the 20 ton truck, in doing so he did not avoid the barrier and crashed into it.
The engine of his car deflected the barrier and drove it through the drivers side windscreen, a shower of glass and sparks showered his face fractions of a second before the mangled steel plunged into his shoulder. The pain of a snapped arm was nothing compared to rusty serrated steel driving its way through flesh. Finally a pure emotion.
It didn't last long though, he passed out quickly after that. I wasn't having it and gave him another cluster headache. He woke up screaming from the pain in his body. He would die soon due to blood loss and I had to think of a way to not let him go too easy.
I noticed that the gas tank was punctured and it was porring down the side of the car.
I planted the idea in his subconsciousness that yes, a cigarette will help me him calm down.
As the lowlife pressed the car's lighter against the cigarette in his mouth I gave him another stab. He yelped and let the lighter fall... Right into the gasoline.
Flames licked the car and the interior caught fire quickly. He was trapped and burning. The fire seared his flesh and fused his clothes to his skin.
I quickly flashed the images of my former host in front of the lowlife's eyes. The last thing he would see would be of him and the last feeling (besides pain and fear) would be regret.
He died screaming and gurgling. And as his mind faded so did I. There was no afterlife for me, no return to my realm, I simply ceased to exist. We might not be actual "guardians", but for once, I was an Avenger. My host would have liked that. | When a new soul is created we’re bonded for life. We Guardians are the mirrors of our protectorates. As they live and grow and play and develop, mature and get older so do we. Our job is to nudge what we protect, as we cannot directly interfere. When their watch is over for that life, they move on to the new soul.
There have been some legendary Guardians through history. Guardians that guided some of the greatest minds on Earth. Nudged these protectorates in the right direction and changed mankind, but never interfered. Even when that talent became the slave of alcohol and drugs and vice.
I just wanted to do my job. I knew I wouldn’t be one of the best Guardians in history, but I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. Successful parents, and people who try their best to make the world a slightly better place.
That changed when Jake was born. I knew in an instant he had potential. The kid was smart as a whip. He was talking and walking before his parents knew it. He had a way with science and technology. He can convince people of anything and my heavens was he an honest soul. He only wanted to do good in this world. Finally! This could be it for me, I may finally have a world changer and have my name put on the Great Wall of Guardians.
I guided Jake best I could, he graduated top honors in high school and went to a prestigious college. It was going great until he met…her.
We guardians can’t see each other on the mortal plane, only when our watch is done and we await a new assignment can we see other guardians. I wish I could have met her guardian, tell her what she did and what she was responsible for, but they will know.
He fell in love with her but she didn’t feel the same. That lack of love and warmth froze him slowly. His studies declines and worse his heart grew cold. I wanted to get involved but I couldn’t, Guardians couldn’t get involved. I had to sit there and watch and Jake…. who…. what I was supposed to protect, threw himself in front of a train. His life slipped away and my watch was over.
Maybe it was selfishness…maybe it was my own anger at my failure. I ignored the portal back to the Guardian plane.
I broke protocol. I was free on the mortal plane and I didn’t have a lot of time before the other Guardians would find me.
I followed her. Waiting and watching. She didn’t have a care in the world that Jake died because of her. She decides she needed a vacation! Can you imagine, a vacation, as if she was the victim. I followed.
She went to San Diego and I waited. She went to San Francisco and I waited. She went to Santa Cruz and I waited. Finally, she was in Los Angeles. The Guardians would be on me soon, but I only had one chance.
She checked in a hotel with energy. So much death in this hotel. This was my chance. I can consume the energy of failed Guardians in this place and interact with the mortal plane.
I’m not a good Guardian…I got involved. I never said I was great, just wanted to be one of the great ones. It doesn’t matter at this point though; I will do what I need to do.
As she enters the elevator to go to her room, I follow. Now will be the time for my revenge. For myself but mainly for Jake. It will destroy me in the end but I am fine with that. My watch is over, and it will soon be over for you as well Elisa Lam.
| |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | If I knew it was the last few breaths I had left, I would have just sat there and panted for the next 10 seconds of my life. But fight or flight, that's how it works when panic sets in. I knew there was no escaping him this time. Just didn't know exactly what would happen at the moment when he does catch me. Oh what did I do what did I do... Running away from a Ford Escalade in unpatrolled desert late into the night should have given me a clue as to my fate, but you never can really give up, can you? But in the end it was just him ramming into me and ME flying into the air and cracking my head open on a rock. Nothing fancy.
Same can be said about my guardian. He exists, which is cool but he hasn't done much guarding has he. As far as I understand from otherworldly knowledge, he's been hiding my entire life, watching quietly as I endured bullying in high school, repeated muggings and now That. So basically my death was the result of prolonged game of cat and mouse. I died without the pleasure of knowing my deliverer. On January 8 2016, I receive a text which said, "Fast as wind though you may be, Harken, Harken, still not safe you see!". This might have set off a slight case of alarm bells for anyone else, but since I thoroughly believed in my insignificance, I thought it was one of my homies' bad rap compositions. So I reply with "Wazzup, nice rhymes man!" Ya I know I deserved to die for that alone.
Since then every day for three days no matter where I was at 1am, I found myself in the trunk of the Escalade. It's quite spacious I concede but smells kinda weird. So he lets my blindfolded self off at seemingly random locales and I'm free to scream and run away until I'm out of his headlights. Staying at a friend's house, police protection, nothing helped. I am back running every night for three nights.
So this 'guardian' will supposedly 'avenge' me. I mean, what good does that do? Found him rather quickly though......
Want to read more? This is my first post on WP so will if you guys like it. | When a new soul is created we’re bonded for life. We Guardians are the mirrors of our protectorates. As they live and grow and play and develop, mature and get older so do we. Our job is to nudge what we protect, as we cannot directly interfere. When their watch is over for that life, they move on to the new soul.
There have been some legendary Guardians through history. Guardians that guided some of the greatest minds on Earth. Nudged these protectorates in the right direction and changed mankind, but never interfered. Even when that talent became the slave of alcohol and drugs and vice.
I just wanted to do my job. I knew I wouldn’t be one of the best Guardians in history, but I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. Successful parents, and people who try their best to make the world a slightly better place.
That changed when Jake was born. I knew in an instant he had potential. The kid was smart as a whip. He was talking and walking before his parents knew it. He had a way with science and technology. He can convince people of anything and my heavens was he an honest soul. He only wanted to do good in this world. Finally! This could be it for me, I may finally have a world changer and have my name put on the Great Wall of Guardians.
I guided Jake best I could, he graduated top honors in high school and went to a prestigious college. It was going great until he met…her.
We guardians can’t see each other on the mortal plane, only when our watch is done and we await a new assignment can we see other guardians. I wish I could have met her guardian, tell her what she did and what she was responsible for, but they will know.
He fell in love with her but she didn’t feel the same. That lack of love and warmth froze him slowly. His studies declines and worse his heart grew cold. I wanted to get involved but I couldn’t, Guardians couldn’t get involved. I had to sit there and watch and Jake…. who…. what I was supposed to protect, threw himself in front of a train. His life slipped away and my watch was over.
Maybe it was selfishness…maybe it was my own anger at my failure. I ignored the portal back to the Guardian plane.
I broke protocol. I was free on the mortal plane and I didn’t have a lot of time before the other Guardians would find me.
I followed her. Waiting and watching. She didn’t have a care in the world that Jake died because of her. She decides she needed a vacation! Can you imagine, a vacation, as if she was the victim. I followed.
She went to San Diego and I waited. She went to San Francisco and I waited. She went to Santa Cruz and I waited. Finally, she was in Los Angeles. The Guardians would be on me soon, but I only had one chance.
She checked in a hotel with energy. So much death in this hotel. This was my chance. I can consume the energy of failed Guardians in this place and interact with the mortal plane.
I’m not a good Guardian…I got involved. I never said I was great, just wanted to be one of the great ones. It doesn’t matter at this point though; I will do what I need to do.
As she enters the elevator to go to her room, I follow. Now will be the time for my revenge. For myself but mainly for Jake. It will destroy me in the end but I am fine with that. My watch is over, and it will soon be over for you as well Elisa Lam.
| |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | *There couldn't possibly have been a witness. I had done everything I needed to. The duct tape was tight, rope was tight. Even if the drugs hadn't taken hold, she had no way of letting anyone know. This just doesn't make sense.* Jonathan stood in his kitchen, staring at the red liquid on the table. "I know, and I'm coming." He leaned closer and the all too familiar metallic smell of blood wafted into his nostrils. He enjoyed it at first, reminding him of his first kill. But this wasn't it at all- he was afraid. This is the second message he had found in blood since he killed her. Someone was coming after him.
The next day, Jonathan woke up covered in sweat. He had a dream, a nightmare really. All of his victims were chasing him, all armed with the same filet knife he had used on them. He was soaked head to toe in perspiration. *Why is this happening? Those sluts, those whores they had it coming! They deserved it.* The smell of blood wafted into his bedroom sending chills down his spine. Jonathan crept out of bed, his hands trembling as it gripped a baseball bat. He turned the corner to the living room and the third message awaited him. "No one deserves what you did, Jonathan."
He flew into a frenzy. He had to get out of town, now. Go to Canada or something. *I knew that it was a bad idea after I saw that black cat. Probably walked under a ladder too.* Jonathan threw clothes and his valuables into a duffle bag, retrieved the filet knife from under his bed to place in the bag. Again, metal filled the air as blood oozed from the handle of the knife. "AUUGH!" Jonathan dropped the knife and rushed out of the apartment screaming bloody murder. He scaled the stairs of his basement apartment and flew out the foyer door, gasping for air. All he could think about was the girls hair, her screams and her eyes closing as he plunge the knife into her heart. Then, he felt something brush across his bare leg.
It was the black cat. He had seen it in the woods where he buried them. He saw it on his way home from work yesterday. And last night when he went out for a smoke it crossed the parking lot. Jonathan stared in amazement. The cat met his gaze. Instead of the usual yellow eyes with black almonds the cats eyes were completely black. Jonathan began to recoil ad tripped as it started to change.
The cat crew black,leathery skin and its bones elongated with a horrifying creaking noise. It's face grew human and gaunt, till as black as night. The cat morphed into a lumbering monstrosity, 7 feet tall. It's skin clung to its bones and its joints creaked as it stepped closer and closer to Jonathan. The creature's mannequin face stared deep into him.
"Why did you do it Jonathan?"
"I didn't do anything, I swear! Please for the love of God, don't kill me!"
"It's too late Jonathan."
Jonathan felt the filet knife in his hand, oozing with blood again. The creature knelt down and stared deep into Jonathan's eyes as it gripped his wrist. Jonathan was powerless. The life left his arms and his face drained of color as the creature plunged his own knife into his chest. Over and over again, he felt the blood cut through his flesh. With a dying gurgle Jonathan finally collapsed, the knife embedded in his torso.
When the police arrived, the doorman said that he had seen it all. Jonathan emerged from his home, screaming with a filet knife in hand. He stabbed himself bet and over again as he fell to the ground. The doorman noted that there was a cat there that walked by him in the middle of his episode. The police shrugged it off and conducted a search of Jonathan's apartment as found the evidence. The families were notified and brought closure to a tortured few months during his rampage.
Jonathan was buried, with his mother and sister in attendance. Rachel, his most recent victim, was exhumed from her shallow grave and put to rest. The community poured out to pay their respects. In attendance was a curious black cat, who sat at the edge of her tombstone. | When a new soul is created we’re bonded for life. We Guardians are the mirrors of our protectorates. As they live and grow and play and develop, mature and get older so do we. Our job is to nudge what we protect, as we cannot directly interfere. When their watch is over for that life, they move on to the new soul.
There have been some legendary Guardians through history. Guardians that guided some of the greatest minds on Earth. Nudged these protectorates in the right direction and changed mankind, but never interfered. Even when that talent became the slave of alcohol and drugs and vice.
I just wanted to do my job. I knew I wouldn’t be one of the best Guardians in history, but I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. Successful parents, and people who try their best to make the world a slightly better place.
That changed when Jake was born. I knew in an instant he had potential. The kid was smart as a whip. He was talking and walking before his parents knew it. He had a way with science and technology. He can convince people of anything and my heavens was he an honest soul. He only wanted to do good in this world. Finally! This could be it for me, I may finally have a world changer and have my name put on the Great Wall of Guardians.
I guided Jake best I could, he graduated top honors in high school and went to a prestigious college. It was going great until he met…her.
We guardians can’t see each other on the mortal plane, only when our watch is done and we await a new assignment can we see other guardians. I wish I could have met her guardian, tell her what she did and what she was responsible for, but they will know.
He fell in love with her but she didn’t feel the same. That lack of love and warmth froze him slowly. His studies declines and worse his heart grew cold. I wanted to get involved but I couldn’t, Guardians couldn’t get involved. I had to sit there and watch and Jake…. who…. what I was supposed to protect, threw himself in front of a train. His life slipped away and my watch was over.
Maybe it was selfishness…maybe it was my own anger at my failure. I ignored the portal back to the Guardian plane.
I broke protocol. I was free on the mortal plane and I didn’t have a lot of time before the other Guardians would find me.
I followed her. Waiting and watching. She didn’t have a care in the world that Jake died because of her. She decides she needed a vacation! Can you imagine, a vacation, as if she was the victim. I followed.
She went to San Diego and I waited. She went to San Francisco and I waited. She went to Santa Cruz and I waited. Finally, she was in Los Angeles. The Guardians would be on me soon, but I only had one chance.
She checked in a hotel with energy. So much death in this hotel. This was my chance. I can consume the energy of failed Guardians in this place and interact with the mortal plane.
I’m not a good Guardian…I got involved. I never said I was great, just wanted to be one of the great ones. It doesn’t matter at this point though; I will do what I need to do.
As she enters the elevator to go to her room, I follow. Now will be the time for my revenge. For myself but mainly for Jake. It will destroy me in the end but I am fine with that. My watch is over, and it will soon be over for you as well Elisa Lam.
| |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Thomas ran a shaking hand through his wet hair. He picked up the glass from the table, spilling onto his sleeve. He put the glass back on the table, his throat too tight to drink.
The room was silent. He should get a clock, he thought suddenly. A real old-fashioned one, the kind with slender hands and a slow, steady tick to measure the passing of time. *Tick, tick* everything is fine *tick, tick* the world is still turning *tick, tick* see? it's ok.
*Tick, tick.* His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he jerked backwards. He *had* heard it this time. Not the slow, steady, heavy march of time ticking; the sharp, scraping tick of pins on wood.
"*AUWK!*"
"*FUCK!*"
Not pins on wood. His heart clattered against his ribcage. Claws on wood. Or talons? Isn't it talons when they're on a bird? Fuck. There was a bird in the window. The open window. He didn't remember opening the window. But then, he didn't remember a lot of things that had happened after... before he'd come to in the shower, watching the last of the pink trails eddying around his feet and circling the drain...
"*Auwk!*" The bird repeated. Thomas didn't know much about birds, but you didn't need to know that much to realize it was obviously a parrot, bright green with a yellow and blue head. It doubled over, rubbing its beak against the windowsill, *tick, tick.* So, not its claws, or talons, or whatever, after all.
He laughed to ease the pressure in his chest. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He tried to remember if anyone in the building had a parrot, but he wasn't close with his neighbors. In any case, parrots are expensive, and he still needed money. He got up slowly.
The parrot shuffled and muttered like a cranky old man, turning its head to fix him with a reproachful glare.
"Pretty bird," he warbled, "c'mere, pretty bird."
"*Who's there?*" the parrot answered, in a high, frail voice that froze Thomas in his tracks. "*Who's there? I'm calling the police!*"
Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but he couldn't understand how. He felt cold as ice, dry as a desert. Where did it come from?
"*Open the fucking safe!*" *His* voice this time, but tinny, like an old recording. The parrot stared at him, as if daring him to answer.
"You weren't there," he croaked dumbly. He would have remembered. He would have- there just wasn't. Only the old man, and him. And then just him. *He would have remembered.*
The parrot clicked its beak rapidly and bobbed its head, like it was laughing at him. "*I'm calling the police!*"
"You can't," his face felt numb and he wasn't sure if he had said that, or if it was the parrot again. It clicked its beak again, ruffling its bright feathers.
"*Open the fucking safe!*" Thomas said again, but definitely not from his mouth this time. "*I'll fucking kill you if you don't open the fucking safe!*"
Thomas lunged. The parrot, beak clattering like laughter, evaded him with ease and settled to perch on the railing of the rusted fire escape. It bobbed up and down, dancing spitefully out of reach.
"*I'm calling the police!*" It taunted, then wolf-whistled.
"I'll fucking kill you," Thomas, the real Thomas, hissed for the second time that night. The window was a tight squeeze - it was an old building and the windows were huge, but so was Thomas - and he got stuck at the shoulders. The parrot turned its rainbow head from side to side, watching him struggle.
"Oh, fuck this," he panted, adrenaline or anger or whatever it was driving him draining rapidly away. He glared at the parrot. "Nobody's gonna listen to a stupid bird."
The parrot ruffled its feathers and fixed a sharp, red eye on Thomas' sweaty face. Its pupil flashed, flaring up huge and black before shrinking to a vengeful pinprick.
"*Fuck!*" it repeated softly, "*There's nothing in the safe!*"
Thomas swore. He lunged. He made it through the window. His full weight slammed into the railing of the fire escape. It was an old building, and Thomas was huge. Metal screamed in protest (like the old man hadn't, just a short, startled bark and a gurgling wheeze) followed by the crack of a bolt popping free of brick (that was scratched and marked around the bolt like it had been methodically scraped away by something sharp) followed by another scream, a real one this time, as the fire escape jolted just enough for Thomas to lose his balance.
Followed, after some time, by a wet, crunching thump.
The parrot perched on the tilted fire escape railing and ruffled its brightly-colored feathers, chuckling.
| When a new soul is created we’re bonded for life. We Guardians are the mirrors of our protectorates. As they live and grow and play and develop, mature and get older so do we. Our job is to nudge what we protect, as we cannot directly interfere. When their watch is over for that life, they move on to the new soul.
There have been some legendary Guardians through history. Guardians that guided some of the greatest minds on Earth. Nudged these protectorates in the right direction and changed mankind, but never interfered. Even when that talent became the slave of alcohol and drugs and vice.
I just wanted to do my job. I knew I wouldn’t be one of the best Guardians in history, but I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. Successful parents, and people who try their best to make the world a slightly better place.
That changed when Jake was born. I knew in an instant he had potential. The kid was smart as a whip. He was talking and walking before his parents knew it. He had a way with science and technology. He can convince people of anything and my heavens was he an honest soul. He only wanted to do good in this world. Finally! This could be it for me, I may finally have a world changer and have my name put on the Great Wall of Guardians.
I guided Jake best I could, he graduated top honors in high school and went to a prestigious college. It was going great until he met…her.
We guardians can’t see each other on the mortal plane, only when our watch is done and we await a new assignment can we see other guardians. I wish I could have met her guardian, tell her what she did and what she was responsible for, but they will know.
He fell in love with her but she didn’t feel the same. That lack of love and warmth froze him slowly. His studies declines and worse his heart grew cold. I wanted to get involved but I couldn’t, Guardians couldn’t get involved. I had to sit there and watch and Jake…. who…. what I was supposed to protect, threw himself in front of a train. His life slipped away and my watch was over.
Maybe it was selfishness…maybe it was my own anger at my failure. I ignored the portal back to the Guardian plane.
I broke protocol. I was free on the mortal plane and I didn’t have a lot of time before the other Guardians would find me.
I followed her. Waiting and watching. She didn’t have a care in the world that Jake died because of her. She decides she needed a vacation! Can you imagine, a vacation, as if she was the victim. I followed.
She went to San Diego and I waited. She went to San Francisco and I waited. She went to Santa Cruz and I waited. Finally, she was in Los Angeles. The Guardians would be on me soon, but I only had one chance.
She checked in a hotel with energy. So much death in this hotel. This was my chance. I can consume the energy of failed Guardians in this place and interact with the mortal plane.
I’m not a good Guardian…I got involved. I never said I was great, just wanted to be one of the great ones. It doesn’t matter at this point though; I will do what I need to do.
As she enters the elevator to go to her room, I follow. Now will be the time for my revenge. For myself but mainly for Jake. It will destroy me in the end but I am fine with that. My watch is over, and it will soon be over for you as well Elisa Lam.
| |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Thomas ran a shaking hand through his wet hair. He picked up the glass from the table, spilling onto his sleeve. He put the glass back on the table, his throat too tight to drink.
The room was silent. He should get a clock, he thought suddenly. A real old-fashioned one, the kind with slender hands and a slow, steady tick to measure the passing of time. *Tick, tick* everything is fine *tick, tick* the world is still turning *tick, tick* see? it's ok.
*Tick, tick.* His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he jerked backwards. He *had* heard it this time. Not the slow, steady, heavy march of time ticking; the sharp, scraping tick of pins on wood.
"*AUWK!*"
"*FUCK!*"
Not pins on wood. His heart clattered against his ribcage. Claws on wood. Or talons? Isn't it talons when they're on a bird? Fuck. There was a bird in the window. The open window. He didn't remember opening the window. But then, he didn't remember a lot of things that had happened after... before he'd come to in the shower, watching the last of the pink trails eddying around his feet and circling the drain...
"*Auwk!*" The bird repeated. Thomas didn't know much about birds, but you didn't need to know that much to realize it was obviously a parrot, bright green with a yellow and blue head. It doubled over, rubbing its beak against the windowsill, *tick, tick.* So, not its claws, or talons, or whatever, after all.
He laughed to ease the pressure in his chest. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He tried to remember if anyone in the building had a parrot, but he wasn't close with his neighbors. In any case, parrots are expensive, and he still needed money. He got up slowly.
The parrot shuffled and muttered like a cranky old man, turning its head to fix him with a reproachful glare.
"Pretty bird," he warbled, "c'mere, pretty bird."
"*Who's there?*" the parrot answered, in a high, frail voice that froze Thomas in his tracks. "*Who's there? I'm calling the police!*"
Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but he couldn't understand how. He felt cold as ice, dry as a desert. Where did it come from?
"*Open the fucking safe!*" *His* voice this time, but tinny, like an old recording. The parrot stared at him, as if daring him to answer.
"You weren't there," he croaked dumbly. He would have remembered. He would have- there just wasn't. Only the old man, and him. And then just him. *He would have remembered.*
The parrot clicked its beak rapidly and bobbed its head, like it was laughing at him. "*I'm calling the police!*"
"You can't," his face felt numb and he wasn't sure if he had said that, or if it was the parrot again. It clicked its beak again, ruffling its bright feathers.
"*Open the fucking safe!*" Thomas said again, but definitely not from his mouth this time. "*I'll fucking kill you if you don't open the fucking safe!*"
Thomas lunged. The parrot, beak clattering like laughter, evaded him with ease and settled to perch on the railing of the rusted fire escape. It bobbed up and down, dancing spitefully out of reach.
"*I'm calling the police!*" It taunted, then wolf-whistled.
"I'll fucking kill you," Thomas, the real Thomas, hissed for the second time that night. The window was a tight squeeze - it was an old building and the windows were huge, but so was Thomas - and he got stuck at the shoulders. The parrot turned its rainbow head from side to side, watching him struggle.
"Oh, fuck this," he panted, adrenaline or anger or whatever it was driving him draining rapidly away. He glared at the parrot. "Nobody's gonna listen to a stupid bird."
The parrot ruffled its feathers and fixed a sharp, red eye on Thomas' sweaty face. Its pupil flashed, flaring up huge and black before shrinking to a vengeful pinprick.
"*Fuck!*" it repeated softly, "*There's nothing in the safe!*"
Thomas swore. He lunged. He made it through the window. His full weight slammed into the railing of the fire escape. It was an old building, and Thomas was huge. Metal screamed in protest (like the old man hadn't, just a short, startled bark and a gurgling wheeze) followed by the crack of a bolt popping free of brick (that was scratched and marked around the bolt like it had been methodically scraped away by something sharp) followed by another scream, a real one this time, as the fire escape jolted just enough for Thomas to lose his balance.
Followed, after some time, by a wet, crunching thump.
The parrot perched on the tilted fire escape railing and ruffled its brightly-colored feathers, chuckling.
| You open your eyes, from somewhere beyond time. You grimace, or try to. But your face is gone. You remember a bullet, a pop, pain. Yeah.
Instinctively, you look for your guardian, that little floaty seal you've always seen. But in a place beyond time, there is nowhere to see anything. Man the void is weird. It's so unnerving, there being nothing anywhere, especially without the comforting blue glow of him.
Ellis has always been there, everyone has a someone floating around them, a little blue someone. Sometimes green or white, Ellis is blue, and not here.
Ellis isn't here.
You close your eyelids, or think of it. Seeing through Ellis's eyes, he's somewhere. You see woods, and darkness, and a blond head surrounded by floaty glows.
Yeah. The trees fly by, and you know you're, er- Ellis is surrounded by hate and anger. A hand flies at you, and finally you hear the shouting, like a radio tuning.
"Get off! Get off! Get off!"
The blond head goes down, and you dip too. It gives you vertigo, like a roller coaster.
"I know! I hate me too! Just leave me alone"
The other guardians, who forms come twinkle in an out of focus fly at the head, even as they roll over onto their back. Ellis makes no attempt to attack.
You see that face, the last face you ever saw, twisted in agony. You love the sight of it, it sickens you, that sadistic feeling.
Tears bead up.
"Please!"
You cant help but wonder, if this guy kills himself, where would his guardian go. With that thought, Ellis turns sharply to the right, and you see a green koala bear, looking at you with a sad, resigned face. It nods, and suddenly the world flies out of view.
You try to gasp for breath, but have no lungs. You try to grab your face, but your hands are gone.
It doesnt feel like closing your eyes, because when it happens you only see more, some how, instinctively you know what it is.
It's taxing to come back, but how can you sweat without pores. You see blood, tears, the glint of a gun, and finally you relax.
You dad told you not to date blonds. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Thomas ran a shaking hand through his wet hair. He picked up the glass from the table, spilling onto his sleeve. He put the glass back on the table, his throat too tight to drink.
The room was silent. He should get a clock, he thought suddenly. A real old-fashioned one, the kind with slender hands and a slow, steady tick to measure the passing of time. *Tick, tick* everything is fine *tick, tick* the world is still turning *tick, tick* see? it's ok.
*Tick, tick.* His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he jerked backwards. He *had* heard it this time. Not the slow, steady, heavy march of time ticking; the sharp, scraping tick of pins on wood.
"*AUWK!*"
"*FUCK!*"
Not pins on wood. His heart clattered against his ribcage. Claws on wood. Or talons? Isn't it talons when they're on a bird? Fuck. There was a bird in the window. The open window. He didn't remember opening the window. But then, he didn't remember a lot of things that had happened after... before he'd come to in the shower, watching the last of the pink trails eddying around his feet and circling the drain...
"*Auwk!*" The bird repeated. Thomas didn't know much about birds, but you didn't need to know that much to realize it was obviously a parrot, bright green with a yellow and blue head. It doubled over, rubbing its beak against the windowsill, *tick, tick.* So, not its claws, or talons, or whatever, after all.
He laughed to ease the pressure in his chest. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He tried to remember if anyone in the building had a parrot, but he wasn't close with his neighbors. In any case, parrots are expensive, and he still needed money. He got up slowly.
The parrot shuffled and muttered like a cranky old man, turning its head to fix him with a reproachful glare.
"Pretty bird," he warbled, "c'mere, pretty bird."
"*Who's there?*" the parrot answered, in a high, frail voice that froze Thomas in his tracks. "*Who's there? I'm calling the police!*"
Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but he couldn't understand how. He felt cold as ice, dry as a desert. Where did it come from?
"*Open the fucking safe!*" *His* voice this time, but tinny, like an old recording. The parrot stared at him, as if daring him to answer.
"You weren't there," he croaked dumbly. He would have remembered. He would have- there just wasn't. Only the old man, and him. And then just him. *He would have remembered.*
The parrot clicked its beak rapidly and bobbed its head, like it was laughing at him. "*I'm calling the police!*"
"You can't," his face felt numb and he wasn't sure if he had said that, or if it was the parrot again. It clicked its beak again, ruffling its bright feathers.
"*Open the fucking safe!*" Thomas said again, but definitely not from his mouth this time. "*I'll fucking kill you if you don't open the fucking safe!*"
Thomas lunged. The parrot, beak clattering like laughter, evaded him with ease and settled to perch on the railing of the rusted fire escape. It bobbed up and down, dancing spitefully out of reach.
"*I'm calling the police!*" It taunted, then wolf-whistled.
"I'll fucking kill you," Thomas, the real Thomas, hissed for the second time that night. The window was a tight squeeze - it was an old building and the windows were huge, but so was Thomas - and he got stuck at the shoulders. The parrot turned its rainbow head from side to side, watching him struggle.
"Oh, fuck this," he panted, adrenaline or anger or whatever it was driving him draining rapidly away. He glared at the parrot. "Nobody's gonna listen to a stupid bird."
The parrot ruffled its feathers and fixed a sharp, red eye on Thomas' sweaty face. Its pupil flashed, flaring up huge and black before shrinking to a vengeful pinprick.
"*Fuck!*" it repeated softly, "*There's nothing in the safe!*"
Thomas swore. He lunged. He made it through the window. His full weight slammed into the railing of the fire escape. It was an old building, and Thomas was huge. Metal screamed in protest (like the old man hadn't, just a short, startled bark and a gurgling wheeze) followed by the crack of a bolt popping free of brick (that was scratched and marked around the bolt like it had been methodically scraped away by something sharp) followed by another scream, a real one this time, as the fire escape jolted just enough for Thomas to lose his balance.
Followed, after some time, by a wet, crunching thump.
The parrot perched on the tilted fire escape railing and ruffled its brightly-colored feathers, chuckling.
| *Thump, thump, thump*
I never did like graveyards much. My feelings towards them have only grown more grim, now that I reside in one. It's a pity they should bury me here, rotting in the soil with the maggots. I thought the afterlife would be more exciting, even if I was to be ravaged by hellfire for my crimes. Is a little damnation too much to ask for?
*Thump, thump, THUMP!*
Instead of an eternity floating on a cloud, or being broken at a wheel, I'm doomed to lay here. Restless night, after restless night, wishing for the earth to crack open and swallow me whole. How many weeks has it been since I was 'laid to rest?'
I never was a religious man, and I never believed the local folklore of spirits-- angels and demons. Never had time for any of that nonsense.
*Thump, THUMP! THUMP!*
Perhaps I should have gone to church on Sunday, and pretended I gave a shit like the rest of the cretins in this town. Would I have been welcomed with open arms by a halo-clad greeter for the pearly gates? Probably not, I didn't deserve that. I wasn't a good man, or even a decent man. I was scum, like everyone else I shared the burden of life with. Now that burden has lifted from me, only to be replaced with this. I could smell the sudden sweet scent of lavender. A gift from the god of death, to freshen up my dusty coffin?
*THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!*
I would cut off my own legs to go back, if I still had legs. When McCreedy playing his fucking harmonica next door was the worst part of my day. Every single night on his front porch, spitting the wasted air from his lungs into that thing. I could still hear it, and it almost sounded warm now. The simple, irritating comforts of home.
**THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!**
“Yes? Who is it?” I called out mockingly, mustering up my best impression of a housemaid inviting a stranger in for tea. “Surely you've come for me? Allow me to join in your song.” Knock, knock, knock.
As I knocked on the thick oak lid of my coffin, the thumping from the outside stopped. I heard the wood creak, and an avalanche of rocks spilled onto the sides of the coffin like an army of ants marching to war.
“That's it? No smashing?” I asked, almost saddened. I half expected a hundred fists of the dead punching through and seizing me by my collar. There were no zombies here, however, only silence. Then the deafening howl of a wolf broke that silence. It was so loud, it was as if the beast was in the coffin with me. It tore through my skull and caused me to jolt upwards. Upon impact with my head, the coffin gave way and the wood splintered into several chunks flying in different directions. My casket was not covered, or someone had dug me out. It was raining heavy, and I had been buried naked, how shameful. I slowly stood up, and took a step forward onto the muddy soil.
*Thump, thump, thump*
What the fuck. With no coffin to keep me cozy, the thumping was now inside my head. Tip-tapping on my brain, sending tingling surges through my body.
“Very funny” I called out. As if to answer my call, a woman walked out slowly from behind a nearby tree. Her hair was short, but long enough to cover her face with her head down. She was naked, and was gripping something in her hand as she moved towards me. It was more like a shamble the way she lumbered on, so perhaps the zombies really had come for me.
*Thump, thump, THUMP!*
I fell to my knees as the third thump cracked my eardrums from inside my head. I could feel hot, sticky blood racing down my cheeks. I was almost grateful, this excruciating pain must mean that whatever has come for me is almost done.
The woman shuffled closer, one hobbled footstep at a time. Her body was wet, and colored a grayish brown from all the mud. When she was around ten feet away she stopped, and slowly lifted her head. As my eyes met hers, I shuddered in pain.
*Thump, THUMP! THUMP!*
As quickly as I had seen her, I could no longer. I screamed as the force inside my head ejected my sight, and left me blinded. I wept blood and began to sob, uncontrollably and heavy. It all came flooding back. In that coffin I had forgotten how I died. I remembered only the darkness of the grave, and my longing for release. I knew I had died, I must have?
*THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!*
I woke up sitting in a car- my car. But I'm in the passenger seat, and I can see myself also sitting in the driver seat. What the fuck is going on? Am I the ghost of Christmas past? Then it hit me. Where I was, and when I was. This is the night I died. It was pouring rain, much like the grave I now call home. The light was on outside the house, beckoning me inside. I watched myself slowly open the driver door, and stumble out of the car. I did the same, and followed the hobbling image of myself making it's way towards my house. The other me was drunk. I could see it in my posture, and the stench of liquor invaded my senses.
“Hoooneeeey!” the past me called out. “I'm home!”
I followed it with a chuckle, as I pulled a nip from my coat pocket and swigged it down. I was beginning to remember how this night ended. Please, why did I have to see this again? I'd rather endure an eternity of brimstone and cloven hooves.
**THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!**
Suddenly, I'm inside my house. Both of me. Dripping all over the new hardwood floors from the rain. I watched myself go over to the fridge, and open a beer. How delightful. Then there was the sound of hurried footsteps from upstairs, rapidly approaching. The other me turned toward them, and chugged a deep swig from the bottle.
“Where the fuck have you been?!” a woman's voice yelled out as she neared the bottom of the stairs. “I was worried sick!”
The other me smiled an almost evil smile, and finished the beer. “I was out with some buddies, you know that!” he said, as she stormed into the room. She gave him a stern look, with a posture that spewed anger and concern. After a moment she turned her head, and as my eyes met hers I shuddered in pain.
*THUMP!*
My head was reeling. I could feel my teeth being ripped out as the room spun. I could hear whispers and shouts, scratches and growling. The smell of lavender returned reeking, strong, and mixed with the smell of beer. After a moment of swirling vertigo the room settled and I saw the other me holding the woman by the throat. Holding my wife. He was screaming so fierce that a mixture of saliva and beer was painting her face. She began to cry, and beg. He had been with another woman. As tears streamed down her face, one teardrop splashed on the hardwood floor and I could hear the waves ripple through my head. Then I was inside my body, I was one with myself as I had been that night. I brought my arm up high, and smashed the beer bottle down on the counter.
*THUMP!*
I'm pretty sure my skull cracked open, and blood was oozing from the wounds. I could feel a cool air invading my cranium, and pooling with the tissue. My fingernails were slowly ripping apart from the skin, and the pain was like a burning fire. I must be in hell after all.
Through all of this, the room was spinning once again, and I could hear the scratching and the growling. The whispers were now shouts, and the shouts were now screams.
I had her by the hair, and I was furious with rage. I could feel it. I could taste it. I wanted to finally release all the hate I felt, and she would be the outlet. I stabbed at her stomach with the bottle over, and over again. Blood pooled on the new hardwood floor, as I stabbed the broken glass into her again, and again.
She spat out blood, and screamed in pain before shock took her voice. After what seemed like endless blows, I jammed the bottle into her neck, blood splashing into my face and coating the counters. I dropped the bottle and stepped back.
The rage had left, and I was now feeling sick. I felt nauseated and ready to vomit. All rage was lost and I was immediately stricken with remorse and guilt. What had I just done? Had I really just killed my wife? Sobbing, I cradled my wife's lifeless body, slipping to grip her with the blood on my hands. I heard the howling of a wolf, and the thumping again, louder and louder. The sound of hooves barreling across my new hardwood floor. It was more piercing than ever, and I wanted it to be over. I yearned for release, to be gone from this world of rage, and deceit, and pain. I was a drunken bastard, and I had now destroyed the only thing I ever truly loved. But how could someone like me ever love at all?
The howling and the hooves grew, and grew. The scratching, and the growling. The screaming, and the moaning. I saw only red as I wept tears of blood, and grabbed a shard of the broken glass from the floor. I squeezed it tight, cutting into my hand as I slid it quickly across my throat and added to the pool. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Thomas ran a shaking hand through his wet hair. He picked up the glass from the table, spilling onto his sleeve. He put the glass back on the table, his throat too tight to drink.
The room was silent. He should get a clock, he thought suddenly. A real old-fashioned one, the kind with slender hands and a slow, steady tick to measure the passing of time. *Tick, tick* everything is fine *tick, tick* the world is still turning *tick, tick* see? it's ok.
*Tick, tick.* His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he jerked backwards. He *had* heard it this time. Not the slow, steady, heavy march of time ticking; the sharp, scraping tick of pins on wood.
"*AUWK!*"
"*FUCK!*"
Not pins on wood. His heart clattered against his ribcage. Claws on wood. Or talons? Isn't it talons when they're on a bird? Fuck. There was a bird in the window. The open window. He didn't remember opening the window. But then, he didn't remember a lot of things that had happened after... before he'd come to in the shower, watching the last of the pink trails eddying around his feet and circling the drain...
"*Auwk!*" The bird repeated. Thomas didn't know much about birds, but you didn't need to know that much to realize it was obviously a parrot, bright green with a yellow and blue head. It doubled over, rubbing its beak against the windowsill, *tick, tick.* So, not its claws, or talons, or whatever, after all.
He laughed to ease the pressure in his chest. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He tried to remember if anyone in the building had a parrot, but he wasn't close with his neighbors. In any case, parrots are expensive, and he still needed money. He got up slowly.
The parrot shuffled and muttered like a cranky old man, turning its head to fix him with a reproachful glare.
"Pretty bird," he warbled, "c'mere, pretty bird."
"*Who's there?*" the parrot answered, in a high, frail voice that froze Thomas in his tracks. "*Who's there? I'm calling the police!*"
Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but he couldn't understand how. He felt cold as ice, dry as a desert. Where did it come from?
"*Open the fucking safe!*" *His* voice this time, but tinny, like an old recording. The parrot stared at him, as if daring him to answer.
"You weren't there," he croaked dumbly. He would have remembered. He would have- there just wasn't. Only the old man, and him. And then just him. *He would have remembered.*
The parrot clicked its beak rapidly and bobbed its head, like it was laughing at him. "*I'm calling the police!*"
"You can't," his face felt numb and he wasn't sure if he had said that, or if it was the parrot again. It clicked its beak again, ruffling its bright feathers.
"*Open the fucking safe!*" Thomas said again, but definitely not from his mouth this time. "*I'll fucking kill you if you don't open the fucking safe!*"
Thomas lunged. The parrot, beak clattering like laughter, evaded him with ease and settled to perch on the railing of the rusted fire escape. It bobbed up and down, dancing spitefully out of reach.
"*I'm calling the police!*" It taunted, then wolf-whistled.
"I'll fucking kill you," Thomas, the real Thomas, hissed for the second time that night. The window was a tight squeeze - it was an old building and the windows were huge, but so was Thomas - and he got stuck at the shoulders. The parrot turned its rainbow head from side to side, watching him struggle.
"Oh, fuck this," he panted, adrenaline or anger or whatever it was driving him draining rapidly away. He glared at the parrot. "Nobody's gonna listen to a stupid bird."
The parrot ruffled its feathers and fixed a sharp, red eye on Thomas' sweaty face. Its pupil flashed, flaring up huge and black before shrinking to a vengeful pinprick.
"*Fuck!*" it repeated softly, "*There's nothing in the safe!*"
Thomas swore. He lunged. He made it through the window. His full weight slammed into the railing of the fire escape. It was an old building, and Thomas was huge. Metal screamed in protest (like the old man hadn't, just a short, startled bark and a gurgling wheeze) followed by the crack of a bolt popping free of brick (that was scratched and marked around the bolt like it had been methodically scraped away by something sharp) followed by another scream, a real one this time, as the fire escape jolted just enough for Thomas to lose his balance.
Followed, after some time, by a wet, crunching thump.
The parrot perched on the tilted fire escape railing and ruffled its brightly-colored feathers, chuckling.
| There is something inanely pretentious about humankind. They plot and scheme; meditate and dream upon their actions but never expect lives to change in the aftermath. I have seen it a hundred times, Johnny Big Shot spends his life dreaming about his promotion, but never thinks about the long trips away from his family and the hours spent apart. I have seen the contrary, where the frail minded mortal gives it all up, but never thinks about their first cold Christmas on the street. I have seen the depths for their depravity, and the brightness of their generosity. Twice though I have seen my assignment cut short. And to that there is no comparison.
The first Ingrid Danov. Curious girl. Pleasant. Maybe a little a head of your time. Her father was the village elder in what I believe the humans called Ystradir. It is nothing but rubble underneath an apartment complex now, but that was my crash course, my maiden voyage. Once my service was released from Ingrid, I was immediately assigned to her killer. His name was Franz. Beer bellied, rotten, old Franz. Fortunately for me my time with Franz was short and in-between my assignments I got quite a lot of advice from the compendium and from the overseer, so that in the event that I ever find myself here again I would be prepared.
The second, and most recent, happened not to long ago, as I am using my time between assignments to document my experiences. Her name was Cadence. She was young, and my time in her service was too short. Everywhere she stepped life seemed to bloom, and darkness fled. Her life was full of happy days, and smiling faces. Until the end. I have always contested that the familiar is always more terrifying than the unknown. The unknown is honest, it does waiver, it simply is. It fills everyone with the same fear. However, the familiar can only be familiar to an extent. Do they ever really know the people they think they do? Their inner most thoughts?
It was her birthday. It was a beautiful day at the park, the river was high from the melting mountain snow, and the first fruits of daffodils showed their face to mother sun. All were in attendance; Mom, Dad, Brothers, Uncles and Aunts. Also there was Norman. A business partner of Dad and close friend to Mom. He was familiar.
As the kids sang and swam in the spring jubilee, he stood seedy and straight. As the party came to a close he took Cadence to the river to "show her his gift." and in that instant, it ended. While all were near, silently and quickly. Candence drifted south with the flotsam.
So, as is customary, my assignment changed, and now I was standing over Norman's shoulder. We speak but are more silent than a whisper, we touch but cannot be felt. As such I waited, every move I calculated. Seeing the results and the end game, I started my new job, concealed and and meticulous.
I made my first move on a Wednesday. I saw a birthday invitation on Normans end table. It was for his cousin. As Norman eyed the invitation and was checking his calendar I leaned over his shoulder, so close we were almost touching.
"He never liked you anyway, you never got along, why not schedule a meeting instead?"
He stood still for seconds as his heart beat in empty lonely apartment air.
"I think I can work Sanders in for a 3 o'clock, I never got a long with my mom's side anyway." his voice assured.
It was my first success.
Before long every waking hour we spent at the office. Business was great, booming even. Norman would feel rushes of success and euphoria, but every night I reminded him of his empty apartment. I felt my gold on him grow every day.
I waited for a year. A year of avoiding calls from family. A year of double booking clients. A year of whispering the same things to him every night until the perfect moment peaked its head out from the clouds. Normans car broke down, his clients dropped him, and the market took a nose dive. In one of those quiet desperate moments while he was alone in his office I whispered, "Leave. It. All." and with that, his brief case slammed shut and we left.
The next week was easy. No one in the apartment but he and I. In the late hours I would simply say "Cadence" and watch him shudder. The alcohol was his idea, and it only served to blur the lines between my world and his.
One night in the midst of his drunken fit, we walked. For hours. Until his feet were sore and the crisp night air turned sharp. I led him to the park, where the river was high and angry. The trees leaned in to watch as I gave him a gentle push. It was over as quickly and quietly as it began. All was set right, as his body drifted south with the flotsam.
| |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Thomas ran a shaking hand through his wet hair. He picked up the glass from the table, spilling onto his sleeve. He put the glass back on the table, his throat too tight to drink.
The room was silent. He should get a clock, he thought suddenly. A real old-fashioned one, the kind with slender hands and a slow, steady tick to measure the passing of time. *Tick, tick* everything is fine *tick, tick* the world is still turning *tick, tick* see? it's ok.
*Tick, tick.* His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he jerked backwards. He *had* heard it this time. Not the slow, steady, heavy march of time ticking; the sharp, scraping tick of pins on wood.
"*AUWK!*"
"*FUCK!*"
Not pins on wood. His heart clattered against his ribcage. Claws on wood. Or talons? Isn't it talons when they're on a bird? Fuck. There was a bird in the window. The open window. He didn't remember opening the window. But then, he didn't remember a lot of things that had happened after... before he'd come to in the shower, watching the last of the pink trails eddying around his feet and circling the drain...
"*Auwk!*" The bird repeated. Thomas didn't know much about birds, but you didn't need to know that much to realize it was obviously a parrot, bright green with a yellow and blue head. It doubled over, rubbing its beak against the windowsill, *tick, tick.* So, not its claws, or talons, or whatever, after all.
He laughed to ease the pressure in his chest. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He tried to remember if anyone in the building had a parrot, but he wasn't close with his neighbors. In any case, parrots are expensive, and he still needed money. He got up slowly.
The parrot shuffled and muttered like a cranky old man, turning its head to fix him with a reproachful glare.
"Pretty bird," he warbled, "c'mere, pretty bird."
"*Who's there?*" the parrot answered, in a high, frail voice that froze Thomas in his tracks. "*Who's there? I'm calling the police!*"
Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but he couldn't understand how. He felt cold as ice, dry as a desert. Where did it come from?
"*Open the fucking safe!*" *His* voice this time, but tinny, like an old recording. The parrot stared at him, as if daring him to answer.
"You weren't there," he croaked dumbly. He would have remembered. He would have- there just wasn't. Only the old man, and him. And then just him. *He would have remembered.*
The parrot clicked its beak rapidly and bobbed its head, like it was laughing at him. "*I'm calling the police!*"
"You can't," his face felt numb and he wasn't sure if he had said that, or if it was the parrot again. It clicked its beak again, ruffling its bright feathers.
"*Open the fucking safe!*" Thomas said again, but definitely not from his mouth this time. "*I'll fucking kill you if you don't open the fucking safe!*"
Thomas lunged. The parrot, beak clattering like laughter, evaded him with ease and settled to perch on the railing of the rusted fire escape. It bobbed up and down, dancing spitefully out of reach.
"*I'm calling the police!*" It taunted, then wolf-whistled.
"I'll fucking kill you," Thomas, the real Thomas, hissed for the second time that night. The window was a tight squeeze - it was an old building and the windows were huge, but so was Thomas - and he got stuck at the shoulders. The parrot turned its rainbow head from side to side, watching him struggle.
"Oh, fuck this," he panted, adrenaline or anger or whatever it was driving him draining rapidly away. He glared at the parrot. "Nobody's gonna listen to a stupid bird."
The parrot ruffled its feathers and fixed a sharp, red eye on Thomas' sweaty face. Its pupil flashed, flaring up huge and black before shrinking to a vengeful pinprick.
"*Fuck!*" it repeated softly, "*There's nothing in the safe!*"
Thomas swore. He lunged. He made it through the window. His full weight slammed into the railing of the fire escape. It was an old building, and Thomas was huge. Metal screamed in protest (like the old man hadn't, just a short, startled bark and a gurgling wheeze) followed by the crack of a bolt popping free of brick (that was scratched and marked around the bolt like it had been methodically scraped away by something sharp) followed by another scream, a real one this time, as the fire escape jolted just enough for Thomas to lose his balance.
Followed, after some time, by a wet, crunching thump.
The parrot perched on the tilted fire escape railing and ruffled its brightly-colored feathers, chuckling.
| I feed. Bones are crushed and flesh is torn as I devoured the corpse. I feel my body creak as my bones shatter and are reforged, my skin flayed and then grown anew.
A new eye opens and looks toward my prey. He seems to sense my presence but he cannot see me. He cannot touch me just as I cannot touch him.
I watch him trip and fall, a satisfying snap and a scream echos as his arm breaks.
A fall like that should have never happened. Normally the man's guardian, a spirit that protects a person from their birth, would have helped him regain his balance and he would have been fine.
That is if I hadn't just eaten it.
The man had murdered my charge, the human I had watched over. I murdered his guardian and took its place.
The man will know no rest. I cannot touch him but he can sense my presence. He will see me in the dark corners, just out of the corner of his eye but when he looks I will be gone. His luck is dead. Everything that can go wrong for him will. I will see to it.
I will not allow him to be caught though they will come close. People will hate him and never know why. Children will scream and animals will riot around him. Minor wounds will fester. Sickness and filfth will be drawn to him. His life will be a living hell but I will not allow him to die no matter how much he craves it. He will live, forever fearing that he will be caught, forever wishing for the eternal relief of death.
A smile crosses my many mouths as my new form stabilizes. I will enjoy this. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Thomas ran a shaking hand through his wet hair. He picked up the glass from the table, spilling onto his sleeve. He put the glass back on the table, his throat too tight to drink.
The room was silent. He should get a clock, he thought suddenly. A real old-fashioned one, the kind with slender hands and a slow, steady tick to measure the passing of time. *Tick, tick* everything is fine *tick, tick* the world is still turning *tick, tick* see? it's ok.
*Tick, tick.* His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he jerked backwards. He *had* heard it this time. Not the slow, steady, heavy march of time ticking; the sharp, scraping tick of pins on wood.
"*AUWK!*"
"*FUCK!*"
Not pins on wood. His heart clattered against his ribcage. Claws on wood. Or talons? Isn't it talons when they're on a bird? Fuck. There was a bird in the window. The open window. He didn't remember opening the window. But then, he didn't remember a lot of things that had happened after... before he'd come to in the shower, watching the last of the pink trails eddying around his feet and circling the drain...
"*Auwk!*" The bird repeated. Thomas didn't know much about birds, but you didn't need to know that much to realize it was obviously a parrot, bright green with a yellow and blue head. It doubled over, rubbing its beak against the windowsill, *tick, tick.* So, not its claws, or talons, or whatever, after all.
He laughed to ease the pressure in his chest. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He tried to remember if anyone in the building had a parrot, but he wasn't close with his neighbors. In any case, parrots are expensive, and he still needed money. He got up slowly.
The parrot shuffled and muttered like a cranky old man, turning its head to fix him with a reproachful glare.
"Pretty bird," he warbled, "c'mere, pretty bird."
"*Who's there?*" the parrot answered, in a high, frail voice that froze Thomas in his tracks. "*Who's there? I'm calling the police!*"
Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but he couldn't understand how. He felt cold as ice, dry as a desert. Where did it come from?
"*Open the fucking safe!*" *His* voice this time, but tinny, like an old recording. The parrot stared at him, as if daring him to answer.
"You weren't there," he croaked dumbly. He would have remembered. He would have- there just wasn't. Only the old man, and him. And then just him. *He would have remembered.*
The parrot clicked its beak rapidly and bobbed its head, like it was laughing at him. "*I'm calling the police!*"
"You can't," his face felt numb and he wasn't sure if he had said that, or if it was the parrot again. It clicked its beak again, ruffling its bright feathers.
"*Open the fucking safe!*" Thomas said again, but definitely not from his mouth this time. "*I'll fucking kill you if you don't open the fucking safe!*"
Thomas lunged. The parrot, beak clattering like laughter, evaded him with ease and settled to perch on the railing of the rusted fire escape. It bobbed up and down, dancing spitefully out of reach.
"*I'm calling the police!*" It taunted, then wolf-whistled.
"I'll fucking kill you," Thomas, the real Thomas, hissed for the second time that night. The window was a tight squeeze - it was an old building and the windows were huge, but so was Thomas - and he got stuck at the shoulders. The parrot turned its rainbow head from side to side, watching him struggle.
"Oh, fuck this," he panted, adrenaline or anger or whatever it was driving him draining rapidly away. He glared at the parrot. "Nobody's gonna listen to a stupid bird."
The parrot ruffled its feathers and fixed a sharp, red eye on Thomas' sweaty face. Its pupil flashed, flaring up huge and black before shrinking to a vengeful pinprick.
"*Fuck!*" it repeated softly, "*There's nothing in the safe!*"
Thomas swore. He lunged. He made it through the window. His full weight slammed into the railing of the fire escape. It was an old building, and Thomas was huge. Metal screamed in protest (like the old man hadn't, just a short, startled bark and a gurgling wheeze) followed by the crack of a bolt popping free of brick (that was scratched and marked around the bolt like it had been methodically scraped away by something sharp) followed by another scream, a real one this time, as the fire escape jolted just enough for Thomas to lose his balance.
Followed, after some time, by a wet, crunching thump.
The parrot perched on the tilted fire escape railing and ruffled its brightly-colored feathers, chuckling.
| Two rounds. Pop. Pop. One in the head, one in the heart. A .45 doesn't seem like a huge round, but it leaves a gruelling mess either way. As blood slowly seeped out of my wounds, I resigned myself to the fate. There isn't much that I could do anyway.
The walk to the light, you've heard it nearly every where, and sad to fit the cliche, it's so true. On my walk however, I was stopped by a mischievous little bugger, barely the height of my chest.
"Wanna follow me?" It asked.
I'm dead already, what's the worse that could happen.
That is how I met my guardian. We all get one at birth, we just don't see them. They'll follow you no matter what, but there's one law they live by, take no lives. If youve killed, or caused someone to kill themselves, poof, they're gone. Now remember that part where I said everyone has one? Figure out how happy the guardian is at losing it's charge? That's the one exception to the rule, they can kill those with no guardians. Now let's get back in.
"The person who shot you is Jack, Jack Daniel. Sorry to rain on your virgin parade, but you ain't his first Vinny. He's killed more before you, but none of the other guardians do jack, cause their charges don't do jack."
"But you, you is different, you followed."
You get a chance to choose, at death, if you want to serve revenge. Totally up to you, but unknowingly, I said yes to revenge.
Jack lives on a small two story lot by a huge commercial building, for some postal company. Bu all means, the house looks abandoned. But ol Jackie turned the top floor into a room worthy of any king, any poor king at least. Well at least he has plumbing.
"Wont it be such a shame if one of the vans above had a broken gearshift and handbrake?"
Damn Daniel... Back at it again with the white vans. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Thomas ran a shaking hand through his wet hair. He picked up the glass from the table, spilling onto his sleeve. He put the glass back on the table, his throat too tight to drink.
The room was silent. He should get a clock, he thought suddenly. A real old-fashioned one, the kind with slender hands and a slow, steady tick to measure the passing of time. *Tick, tick* everything is fine *tick, tick* the world is still turning *tick, tick* see? it's ok.
*Tick, tick.* His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he jerked backwards. He *had* heard it this time. Not the slow, steady, heavy march of time ticking; the sharp, scraping tick of pins on wood.
"*AUWK!*"
"*FUCK!*"
Not pins on wood. His heart clattered against his ribcage. Claws on wood. Or talons? Isn't it talons when they're on a bird? Fuck. There was a bird in the window. The open window. He didn't remember opening the window. But then, he didn't remember a lot of things that had happened after... before he'd come to in the shower, watching the last of the pink trails eddying around his feet and circling the drain...
"*Auwk!*" The bird repeated. Thomas didn't know much about birds, but you didn't need to know that much to realize it was obviously a parrot, bright green with a yellow and blue head. It doubled over, rubbing its beak against the windowsill, *tick, tick.* So, not its claws, or talons, or whatever, after all.
He laughed to ease the pressure in his chest. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He tried to remember if anyone in the building had a parrot, but he wasn't close with his neighbors. In any case, parrots are expensive, and he still needed money. He got up slowly.
The parrot shuffled and muttered like a cranky old man, turning its head to fix him with a reproachful glare.
"Pretty bird," he warbled, "c'mere, pretty bird."
"*Who's there?*" the parrot answered, in a high, frail voice that froze Thomas in his tracks. "*Who's there? I'm calling the police!*"
Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but he couldn't understand how. He felt cold as ice, dry as a desert. Where did it come from?
"*Open the fucking safe!*" *His* voice this time, but tinny, like an old recording. The parrot stared at him, as if daring him to answer.
"You weren't there," he croaked dumbly. He would have remembered. He would have- there just wasn't. Only the old man, and him. And then just him. *He would have remembered.*
The parrot clicked its beak rapidly and bobbed its head, like it was laughing at him. "*I'm calling the police!*"
"You can't," his face felt numb and he wasn't sure if he had said that, or if it was the parrot again. It clicked its beak again, ruffling its bright feathers.
"*Open the fucking safe!*" Thomas said again, but definitely not from his mouth this time. "*I'll fucking kill you if you don't open the fucking safe!*"
Thomas lunged. The parrot, beak clattering like laughter, evaded him with ease and settled to perch on the railing of the rusted fire escape. It bobbed up and down, dancing spitefully out of reach.
"*I'm calling the police!*" It taunted, then wolf-whistled.
"I'll fucking kill you," Thomas, the real Thomas, hissed for the second time that night. The window was a tight squeeze - it was an old building and the windows were huge, but so was Thomas - and he got stuck at the shoulders. The parrot turned its rainbow head from side to side, watching him struggle.
"Oh, fuck this," he panted, adrenaline or anger or whatever it was driving him draining rapidly away. He glared at the parrot. "Nobody's gonna listen to a stupid bird."
The parrot ruffled its feathers and fixed a sharp, red eye on Thomas' sweaty face. Its pupil flashed, flaring up huge and black before shrinking to a vengeful pinprick.
"*Fuck!*" it repeated softly, "*There's nothing in the safe!*"
Thomas swore. He lunged. He made it through the window. His full weight slammed into the railing of the fire escape. It was an old building, and Thomas was huge. Metal screamed in protest (like the old man hadn't, just a short, startled bark and a gurgling wheeze) followed by the crack of a bolt popping free of brick (that was scratched and marked around the bolt like it had been methodically scraped away by something sharp) followed by another scream, a real one this time, as the fire escape jolted just enough for Thomas to lose his balance.
Followed, after some time, by a wet, crunching thump.
The parrot perched on the tilted fire escape railing and ruffled its brightly-colored feathers, chuckling.
| Folklore calls us guardians. We are not though. We are leeches, we latch onto subconsciousness of a human and feed off of the emotions. When a host dies, we fade back to our own realm/dimension/universe/whatever to use this energy to multiply and prosper. The purer the emotions the more power they give us, and thus we gently steer the host into making good decisions in life (for our benefit).
Remember that ecstatic moment when you first tasted that strawberry ice-cream on a warm summer day? The combination of the sugar rush with the coldness of the ice-cream made you lose your wording and you started giggling. Probably not, you where only 2 at the time. But I remember your joy, that pure joy that only a kid can experience. That emotion powered me up and I reveled in the power and had just enough time to jiggle your mind to not take too large a bite. Brain freeze is not a nice experience for either of us.
I was there when my host first learned to read and write, I was there when he read his first sentence to his parents and felt his pride as they congratulate him.
I was there when he fell off his bike and snapped his arm. The pain was white hot and exhilarating. With a little push to his subconscious I made him remember his fathers teachings about first aid. He made a sling, and the relief and pride he felt felt wonderful to me.
I was there when he watched his favorite superhero movie on the big screen.
I was there when he got accepted into a prestigious university. Pushing him away from late night gaming sessions (for a cheap thrill) so that he would study payed off when the combined feeling of fear, anticipation, relief and joy washed over me when he read that acceptance letter.
I was there on his first date.
I was there when he lost his virginity. Such a beautiful moment for all of us. I winked at the other host's entity. It too knew that the moment was perfect.
I was there when he inevitably broke up with her. Sorrow doesn't feel good, for it is a draining emotion and over too fast (kinda like fast food) so I reminded him of all the great moments he had with her and that all his memories of the relation are positive ones. He grew stronger, and with him his emotions became purer.
And...
I was there when he died.
It was at a party with fellow students in his final year. Tired from studying he just hang around with his friends and one of them had heard of a party happening out of campus, I tried to dissuade him but in the end his friends managed to convince him.
The party was at someone's place in a shady part of town. Alcohol clouded both our senses and I cannot clearly recall how it lead to it. My host got into an argument about drugs with some lowlife at the party and apparently the dispute did not stick well with said lowlife.
At one point his drink got spiked and he was lead to a different area of the house. There on a filthy mattress he was forcefully given a cocktail of many different drugs. The door locked. The reaction was severe, he was flooded with mixed signals, he felt immeasurable joy and his body felt pleasure beyond belief. His mind however did not. As he lay on the ground writhing in ecstasy unable to control himself, his mind was in a clear state, he felt a mortal fear as all his senses told him it was wrong. Compare it to a locked in syndrome, only your body isn't just immobile, it's torturing you.
His stomach tried to expel whatever was wrong but all it did was make the host choke. He died in both ecstasy and agony and at that moment I felt power like no other. The energy was powerful but felt entirely wrong at the same time.
Only... I did not pass on to my own realm. I lingered. The link was severed and I hung there above his lifeless corpse. I felt. For the first time in my existence I felt. We are not ment to have feelings, we just feed on the feelings of others.
But I felt.
I felt sorrow, for losing my host at such a young age. There was so much potential, so much more that he could have done and achieve.
I felt... was that anger? No. It was more, I experienced rage. I. Felt. HATE. I wanted vengeance. And with this power that I had I could have it.
I reached out and found the lowlife. A guy in his late twenties, the kind of guy that deals drugs, steals, and has no empathy for others. I found him on the couch, smoking weed and trying to impress a group of girls 10 years younger than him. His entity was a shell of a being, being fed only the occasional 'pure emotion' when the lowlife relieved himself. All other emotions where artificial from drugs.
For the first time in the history of our kind I committed murder. I snuffed him out and severed his link. I felt joy as the lowlife suffered a tiny sting of utter loneliness.
I linked myself to the lowlife, but not to his subconsciousness, I linked to his entire mind. It was cramped and colorless. There where no ambitions, no dreams, no long term plans. All this scum wanted was to get high and "score bitches", there was a tiny ambition about something called 'street cred' but that would never materialize on purpose.
Linked to a subconsciousness I could only nudge a host. Now that I was linked to an entire mind and with the amount of power I had I could do anything. I could make him into a vegetable, or simply stop his heart, but no, I wanted him to suffer.
The first thing I did was to make his brain immune to drugs. He would never again feel the numbness of weed, the warmth of alcohol, the exhilaration of cocaine, and he would never smell the colors of acid. All that he had now was the cold hard reality of life. He sucked on his joint and puked as the smoke felt unfamiliar and disgusting in his mouth and lungs.
I also wanted him out of there. So I gave him agoraphobia, he instantly began to sweat as he realized he was surrounded by tens of people in a room with very loud music.
He stumbled out the house and limped to his car. As he sat there trying to comprehend what he felt I dragged out the memory of my former host and let it linger behind his every thought. As much as I wanted him to feel regret he was too much of a narcissist to feel empathy. So he drove off into the night instead, trying to outrun his fears. I was in his mind however stuck to him until his death, which would soon follow him.
As he started speeding I managed to burst several blood vessels in his brain causing a pain similar to a white hot knife being thrust in the eye. A cluster headache. I will admit that I enjoyed his screamed of pain. So I let it subside, I let him calm down and the moment he felt relaxed I did it again.
The lowlife lost control and swerved into oncoming traffic and I cursed as he managed to avoid the 20 ton truck, in doing so he did not avoid the barrier and crashed into it.
The engine of his car deflected the barrier and drove it through the drivers side windscreen, a shower of glass and sparks showered his face fractions of a second before the mangled steel plunged into his shoulder. The pain of a snapped arm was nothing compared to rusty serrated steel driving its way through flesh. Finally a pure emotion.
It didn't last long though, he passed out quickly after that. I wasn't having it and gave him another cluster headache. He woke up screaming from the pain in his body. He would die soon due to blood loss and I had to think of a way to not let him go too easy.
I noticed that the gas tank was punctured and it was porring down the side of the car.
I planted the idea in his subconsciousness that yes, a cigarette will help me him calm down.
As the lowlife pressed the car's lighter against the cigarette in his mouth I gave him another stab. He yelped and let the lighter fall... Right into the gasoline.
Flames licked the car and the interior caught fire quickly. He was trapped and burning. The fire seared his flesh and fused his clothes to his skin.
I quickly flashed the images of my former host in front of the lowlife's eyes. The last thing he would see would be of him and the last feeling (besides pain and fear) would be regret.
He died screaming and gurgling. And as his mind faded so did I. There was no afterlife for me, no return to my realm, I simply ceased to exist. We might not be actual "guardians", but for once, I was an Avenger. My host would have liked that. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Thomas ran a shaking hand through his wet hair. He picked up the glass from the table, spilling onto his sleeve. He put the glass back on the table, his throat too tight to drink.
The room was silent. He should get a clock, he thought suddenly. A real old-fashioned one, the kind with slender hands and a slow, steady tick to measure the passing of time. *Tick, tick* everything is fine *tick, tick* the world is still turning *tick, tick* see? it's ok.
*Tick, tick.* His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he jerked backwards. He *had* heard it this time. Not the slow, steady, heavy march of time ticking; the sharp, scraping tick of pins on wood.
"*AUWK!*"
"*FUCK!*"
Not pins on wood. His heart clattered against his ribcage. Claws on wood. Or talons? Isn't it talons when they're on a bird? Fuck. There was a bird in the window. The open window. He didn't remember opening the window. But then, he didn't remember a lot of things that had happened after... before he'd come to in the shower, watching the last of the pink trails eddying around his feet and circling the drain...
"*Auwk!*" The bird repeated. Thomas didn't know much about birds, but you didn't need to know that much to realize it was obviously a parrot, bright green with a yellow and blue head. It doubled over, rubbing its beak against the windowsill, *tick, tick.* So, not its claws, or talons, or whatever, after all.
He laughed to ease the pressure in his chest. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He tried to remember if anyone in the building had a parrot, but he wasn't close with his neighbors. In any case, parrots are expensive, and he still needed money. He got up slowly.
The parrot shuffled and muttered like a cranky old man, turning its head to fix him with a reproachful glare.
"Pretty bird," he warbled, "c'mere, pretty bird."
"*Who's there?*" the parrot answered, in a high, frail voice that froze Thomas in his tracks. "*Who's there? I'm calling the police!*"
Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but he couldn't understand how. He felt cold as ice, dry as a desert. Where did it come from?
"*Open the fucking safe!*" *His* voice this time, but tinny, like an old recording. The parrot stared at him, as if daring him to answer.
"You weren't there," he croaked dumbly. He would have remembered. He would have- there just wasn't. Only the old man, and him. And then just him. *He would have remembered.*
The parrot clicked its beak rapidly and bobbed its head, like it was laughing at him. "*I'm calling the police!*"
"You can't," his face felt numb and he wasn't sure if he had said that, or if it was the parrot again. It clicked its beak again, ruffling its bright feathers.
"*Open the fucking safe!*" Thomas said again, but definitely not from his mouth this time. "*I'll fucking kill you if you don't open the fucking safe!*"
Thomas lunged. The parrot, beak clattering like laughter, evaded him with ease and settled to perch on the railing of the rusted fire escape. It bobbed up and down, dancing spitefully out of reach.
"*I'm calling the police!*" It taunted, then wolf-whistled.
"I'll fucking kill you," Thomas, the real Thomas, hissed for the second time that night. The window was a tight squeeze - it was an old building and the windows were huge, but so was Thomas - and he got stuck at the shoulders. The parrot turned its rainbow head from side to side, watching him struggle.
"Oh, fuck this," he panted, adrenaline or anger or whatever it was driving him draining rapidly away. He glared at the parrot. "Nobody's gonna listen to a stupid bird."
The parrot ruffled its feathers and fixed a sharp, red eye on Thomas' sweaty face. Its pupil flashed, flaring up huge and black before shrinking to a vengeful pinprick.
"*Fuck!*" it repeated softly, "*There's nothing in the safe!*"
Thomas swore. He lunged. He made it through the window. His full weight slammed into the railing of the fire escape. It was an old building, and Thomas was huge. Metal screamed in protest (like the old man hadn't, just a short, startled bark and a gurgling wheeze) followed by the crack of a bolt popping free of brick (that was scratched and marked around the bolt like it had been methodically scraped away by something sharp) followed by another scream, a real one this time, as the fire escape jolted just enough for Thomas to lose his balance.
Followed, after some time, by a wet, crunching thump.
The parrot perched on the tilted fire escape railing and ruffled its brightly-colored feathers, chuckling.
| If I knew it was the last few breaths I had left, I would have just sat there and panted for the next 10 seconds of my life. But fight or flight, that's how it works when panic sets in. I knew there was no escaping him this time. Just didn't know exactly what would happen at the moment when he does catch me. Oh what did I do what did I do... Running away from a Ford Escalade in unpatrolled desert late into the night should have given me a clue as to my fate, but you never can really give up, can you? But in the end it was just him ramming into me and ME flying into the air and cracking my head open on a rock. Nothing fancy.
Same can be said about my guardian. He exists, which is cool but he hasn't done much guarding has he. As far as I understand from otherworldly knowledge, he's been hiding my entire life, watching quietly as I endured bullying in high school, repeated muggings and now That. So basically my death was the result of prolonged game of cat and mouse. I died without the pleasure of knowing my deliverer. On January 8 2016, I receive a text which said, "Fast as wind though you may be, Harken, Harken, still not safe you see!". This might have set off a slight case of alarm bells for anyone else, but since I thoroughly believed in my insignificance, I thought it was one of my homies' bad rap compositions. So I reply with "Wazzup, nice rhymes man!" Ya I know I deserved to die for that alone.
Since then every day for three days no matter where I was at 1am, I found myself in the trunk of the Escalade. It's quite spacious I concede but smells kinda weird. So he lets my blindfolded self off at seemingly random locales and I'm free to scream and run away until I'm out of his headlights. Staying at a friend's house, police protection, nothing helped. I am back running every night for three nights.
So this 'guardian' will supposedly 'avenge' me. I mean, what good does that do? Found him rather quickly though......
Want to read more? This is my first post on WP so will if you guys like it. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Thomas ran a shaking hand through his wet hair. He picked up the glass from the table, spilling onto his sleeve. He put the glass back on the table, his throat too tight to drink.
The room was silent. He should get a clock, he thought suddenly. A real old-fashioned one, the kind with slender hands and a slow, steady tick to measure the passing of time. *Tick, tick* everything is fine *tick, tick* the world is still turning *tick, tick* see? it's ok.
*Tick, tick.* His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he jerked backwards. He *had* heard it this time. Not the slow, steady, heavy march of time ticking; the sharp, scraping tick of pins on wood.
"*AUWK!*"
"*FUCK!*"
Not pins on wood. His heart clattered against his ribcage. Claws on wood. Or talons? Isn't it talons when they're on a bird? Fuck. There was a bird in the window. The open window. He didn't remember opening the window. But then, he didn't remember a lot of things that had happened after... before he'd come to in the shower, watching the last of the pink trails eddying around his feet and circling the drain...
"*Auwk!*" The bird repeated. Thomas didn't know much about birds, but you didn't need to know that much to realize it was obviously a parrot, bright green with a yellow and blue head. It doubled over, rubbing its beak against the windowsill, *tick, tick.* So, not its claws, or talons, or whatever, after all.
He laughed to ease the pressure in his chest. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He tried to remember if anyone in the building had a parrot, but he wasn't close with his neighbors. In any case, parrots are expensive, and he still needed money. He got up slowly.
The parrot shuffled and muttered like a cranky old man, turning its head to fix him with a reproachful glare.
"Pretty bird," he warbled, "c'mere, pretty bird."
"*Who's there?*" the parrot answered, in a high, frail voice that froze Thomas in his tracks. "*Who's there? I'm calling the police!*"
Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but he couldn't understand how. He felt cold as ice, dry as a desert. Where did it come from?
"*Open the fucking safe!*" *His* voice this time, but tinny, like an old recording. The parrot stared at him, as if daring him to answer.
"You weren't there," he croaked dumbly. He would have remembered. He would have- there just wasn't. Only the old man, and him. And then just him. *He would have remembered.*
The parrot clicked its beak rapidly and bobbed its head, like it was laughing at him. "*I'm calling the police!*"
"You can't," his face felt numb and he wasn't sure if he had said that, or if it was the parrot again. It clicked its beak again, ruffling its bright feathers.
"*Open the fucking safe!*" Thomas said again, but definitely not from his mouth this time. "*I'll fucking kill you if you don't open the fucking safe!*"
Thomas lunged. The parrot, beak clattering like laughter, evaded him with ease and settled to perch on the railing of the rusted fire escape. It bobbed up and down, dancing spitefully out of reach.
"*I'm calling the police!*" It taunted, then wolf-whistled.
"I'll fucking kill you," Thomas, the real Thomas, hissed for the second time that night. The window was a tight squeeze - it was an old building and the windows were huge, but so was Thomas - and he got stuck at the shoulders. The parrot turned its rainbow head from side to side, watching him struggle.
"Oh, fuck this," he panted, adrenaline or anger or whatever it was driving him draining rapidly away. He glared at the parrot. "Nobody's gonna listen to a stupid bird."
The parrot ruffled its feathers and fixed a sharp, red eye on Thomas' sweaty face. Its pupil flashed, flaring up huge and black before shrinking to a vengeful pinprick.
"*Fuck!*" it repeated softly, "*There's nothing in the safe!*"
Thomas swore. He lunged. He made it through the window. His full weight slammed into the railing of the fire escape. It was an old building, and Thomas was huge. Metal screamed in protest (like the old man hadn't, just a short, startled bark and a gurgling wheeze) followed by the crack of a bolt popping free of brick (that was scratched and marked around the bolt like it had been methodically scraped away by something sharp) followed by another scream, a real one this time, as the fire escape jolted just enough for Thomas to lose his balance.
Followed, after some time, by a wet, crunching thump.
The parrot perched on the tilted fire escape railing and ruffled its brightly-colored feathers, chuckling.
| *There couldn't possibly have been a witness. I had done everything I needed to. The duct tape was tight, rope was tight. Even if the drugs hadn't taken hold, she had no way of letting anyone know. This just doesn't make sense.* Jonathan stood in his kitchen, staring at the red liquid on the table. "I know, and I'm coming." He leaned closer and the all too familiar metallic smell of blood wafted into his nostrils. He enjoyed it at first, reminding him of his first kill. But this wasn't it at all- he was afraid. This is the second message he had found in blood since he killed her. Someone was coming after him.
The next day, Jonathan woke up covered in sweat. He had a dream, a nightmare really. All of his victims were chasing him, all armed with the same filet knife he had used on them. He was soaked head to toe in perspiration. *Why is this happening? Those sluts, those whores they had it coming! They deserved it.* The smell of blood wafted into his bedroom sending chills down his spine. Jonathan crept out of bed, his hands trembling as it gripped a baseball bat. He turned the corner to the living room and the third message awaited him. "No one deserves what you did, Jonathan."
He flew into a frenzy. He had to get out of town, now. Go to Canada or something. *I knew that it was a bad idea after I saw that black cat. Probably walked under a ladder too.* Jonathan threw clothes and his valuables into a duffle bag, retrieved the filet knife from under his bed to place in the bag. Again, metal filled the air as blood oozed from the handle of the knife. "AUUGH!" Jonathan dropped the knife and rushed out of the apartment screaming bloody murder. He scaled the stairs of his basement apartment and flew out the foyer door, gasping for air. All he could think about was the girls hair, her screams and her eyes closing as he plunge the knife into her heart. Then, he felt something brush across his bare leg.
It was the black cat. He had seen it in the woods where he buried them. He saw it on his way home from work yesterday. And last night when he went out for a smoke it crossed the parking lot. Jonathan stared in amazement. The cat met his gaze. Instead of the usual yellow eyes with black almonds the cats eyes were completely black. Jonathan began to recoil ad tripped as it started to change.
The cat crew black,leathery skin and its bones elongated with a horrifying creaking noise. It's face grew human and gaunt, till as black as night. The cat morphed into a lumbering monstrosity, 7 feet tall. It's skin clung to its bones and its joints creaked as it stepped closer and closer to Jonathan. The creature's mannequin face stared deep into him.
"Why did you do it Jonathan?"
"I didn't do anything, I swear! Please for the love of God, don't kill me!"
"It's too late Jonathan."
Jonathan felt the filet knife in his hand, oozing with blood again. The creature knelt down and stared deep into Jonathan's eyes as it gripped his wrist. Jonathan was powerless. The life left his arms and his face drained of color as the creature plunged his own knife into his chest. Over and over again, he felt the blood cut through his flesh. With a dying gurgle Jonathan finally collapsed, the knife embedded in his torso.
When the police arrived, the doorman said that he had seen it all. Jonathan emerged from his home, screaming with a filet knife in hand. He stabbed himself bet and over again as he fell to the ground. The doorman noted that there was a cat there that walked by him in the middle of his episode. The police shrugged it off and conducted a search of Jonathan's apartment as found the evidence. The families were notified and brought closure to a tortured few months during his rampage.
Jonathan was buried, with his mother and sister in attendance. Rachel, his most recent victim, was exhumed from her shallow grave and put to rest. The community poured out to pay their respects. In attendance was a curious black cat, who sat at the edge of her tombstone. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | [Okay, so this might turn out to be a combination of a little silly and a little dark. It's my first submission, sorry for any major errors or stupid mistakes. I hope you enjoy it.]
It started with a murder. A lot of stories do, and this one went as a lot of murders do. One man stopped another in a dark alley and demanded all of his money. There was a fight and the second man never left that alley alive. The murderer thought he'd gotten away with it, but then strange things started happening.
A week after the murder, the guilty man was walking down the street. He finally felt more relaxed, and wasn't looking over his shoulder every two seconds. As he moved down the side walk, he started catching strange glimpses out of the corner of his eye. He would catch a flash of black and white, but every time he looked it was just the regular pedestrians. Shaking his head, the murderer kept walking. Maybe he wasn't quite over it yet.
A few days later he was at the bank. While waiting in line, the man caught sight of something strange. There was a *penguin* in one of the offices! He grabbed his phone, but when he went to take a picture, there was just a man giving him a funny look. Rubbing his eyes, he looked again and the penguin was back! Grabbing the shoulder of the man next to him, the murderer pointed wordlessly. Before they turned back though, the penguin was gone again. The second man shook the murderer's hand off of his shoulder and hurried to a different line. The murderer shoved his hands in his pockets and ducked his head, staring at the floor.
...
They were everywhere. The murderer was sure of it. No matter where he went he saw the damned *penguins!* At the grocery store in the freezer section, behind him on the streets, once in his apartment! He couldn't escape the birds and it was playing havoc with his mind. No one else ever saw them. The murderer would try to point them out, tried to get pictures, but they were always gone. He couldn't take it anymore. Holding the gun to his head, a suicide note in hand, telling the world what he had done and what he had scene, he pulled the trigger.
On the roof, a lone penguin smiled. The expression didn't fit the normally inexpressive face. Slowly, the face changed, and soon something else was standing in it's place. There was a sense of *wrongness* to the new occupant. Anyone nearby suddenly felt chilled, and hurried on their way, heads down and eyes searching to and fro with paranoid flickering. The thing had done it's job, and had guarded the man it had been given throughout his life. It had also avenged him, after it's death. The naagloshii chuckled to itself, and then a small bird left the roof top and flew towards the forests to the north.
[Thanks for reading if you got this far! I based my story on my favorite animal, a penguin, and one of the monsters that has affected me the most in literature, the Naagloshii. I first read of it in the [Dresden Files](http://dresdenfiles.wikia.com/wiki/Naagloshii) and have done a little more research into the original Native American legend of the [Skin-Walkers.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skin-walker) If you have any comments or criticism I'd be happy to hear them as it is my first submission, as I mentioned. Have a great day!] | I am dead. But I can't be. I can still think. But it must be true. As I look down on myself from a few feet up, I am unrecognizable. A bloody mess with organs sprawled on the ground. And something else. A rat must have gotten into my body, as it seems to be writhing as it lies on the ground. A terrifying noise rings through the air. And a bug flies out of my carcass. A bug couldn't have jostled my body so much. There is no way! I black out. Maybe it was a dream. But when I wake up, I am still floating in midair. And watching the bug fly to the door of my murderer's house. My girlfriend. She killed me, being a black widow, as she told me before she did it, she hated men,but got close to them in order to kill them afterwards. My consciousness transported into the house, along with the flying bug, which landed on my girlfri- wait, ex's lap, and changed into a rat. She screamed, which for some reason brought my soul joy. She hated rats. And locusts. That's what it was when it was a bug. I wish I had some popcorn. The creature changed into a wolf. My killer screamed in fear. She didn't hate wolves, but having a snarling one in your house would be unpleasant. The doorbell rang. As the man stepped inside, I realized who it was. Rico Sanchez. He was my buddy in college. And when he heard her scream, he wrapped his arm around her. The creature had turned itself into a spider. My ex pointed in fear.
"A wo-w-w-" Clearly, from my mindset, I knew she was saying wolf, but Rico, an entomologist, did not.
"It's just a spider, dear. And it's not a widow spider either."
My ex would be a widow. There was a knife in her pocket, presumably to kill Rico. It would take a long time to clean the blood out of her carpet. But I( had forgotten about the tiger. Or I guess what is now a tiger. It snarled, and she screamed, but Rico must have still thought it was a spider.
"It's just an arachnid, dear." The killer took the knife out of her pocket and slashed at the tiger. It just passed through the strange creature. but the true terror was on Rico's face. This was getting good.
"W-why do you have a knife, dear?"
'Why do you think?" And as she stabbed at the poor man, the tiger lunged at her. It dissipated into mist, but the black widow started clutching her chest. Rico panted in relief as the room started to get darker. And I sighed with the same relief as I myself dissipated into dust.
Edit: Spelling and grammar
| |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Thomas ran a shaking hand through his wet hair. He picked up the glass from the table, spilling onto his sleeve. He put the glass back on the table, his throat too tight to drink.
The room was silent. He should get a clock, he thought suddenly. A real old-fashioned one, the kind with slender hands and a slow, steady tick to measure the passing of time. *Tick, tick* everything is fine *tick, tick* the world is still turning *tick, tick* see? it's ok.
*Tick, tick.* His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he jerked backwards. He *had* heard it this time. Not the slow, steady, heavy march of time ticking; the sharp, scraping tick of pins on wood.
"*AUWK!*"
"*FUCK!*"
Not pins on wood. His heart clattered against his ribcage. Claws on wood. Or talons? Isn't it talons when they're on a bird? Fuck. There was a bird in the window. The open window. He didn't remember opening the window. But then, he didn't remember a lot of things that had happened after... before he'd come to in the shower, watching the last of the pink trails eddying around his feet and circling the drain...
"*Auwk!*" The bird repeated. Thomas didn't know much about birds, but you didn't need to know that much to realize it was obviously a parrot, bright green with a yellow and blue head. It doubled over, rubbing its beak against the windowsill, *tick, tick.* So, not its claws, or talons, or whatever, after all.
He laughed to ease the pressure in his chest. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He tried to remember if anyone in the building had a parrot, but he wasn't close with his neighbors. In any case, parrots are expensive, and he still needed money. He got up slowly.
The parrot shuffled and muttered like a cranky old man, turning its head to fix him with a reproachful glare.
"Pretty bird," he warbled, "c'mere, pretty bird."
"*Who's there?*" the parrot answered, in a high, frail voice that froze Thomas in his tracks. "*Who's there? I'm calling the police!*"
Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but he couldn't understand how. He felt cold as ice, dry as a desert. Where did it come from?
"*Open the fucking safe!*" *His* voice this time, but tinny, like an old recording. The parrot stared at him, as if daring him to answer.
"You weren't there," he croaked dumbly. He would have remembered. He would have- there just wasn't. Only the old man, and him. And then just him. *He would have remembered.*
The parrot clicked its beak rapidly and bobbed its head, like it was laughing at him. "*I'm calling the police!*"
"You can't," his face felt numb and he wasn't sure if he had said that, or if it was the parrot again. It clicked its beak again, ruffling its bright feathers.
"*Open the fucking safe!*" Thomas said again, but definitely not from his mouth this time. "*I'll fucking kill you if you don't open the fucking safe!*"
Thomas lunged. The parrot, beak clattering like laughter, evaded him with ease and settled to perch on the railing of the rusted fire escape. It bobbed up and down, dancing spitefully out of reach.
"*I'm calling the police!*" It taunted, then wolf-whistled.
"I'll fucking kill you," Thomas, the real Thomas, hissed for the second time that night. The window was a tight squeeze - it was an old building and the windows were huge, but so was Thomas - and he got stuck at the shoulders. The parrot turned its rainbow head from side to side, watching him struggle.
"Oh, fuck this," he panted, adrenaline or anger or whatever it was driving him draining rapidly away. He glared at the parrot. "Nobody's gonna listen to a stupid bird."
The parrot ruffled its feathers and fixed a sharp, red eye on Thomas' sweaty face. Its pupil flashed, flaring up huge and black before shrinking to a vengeful pinprick.
"*Fuck!*" it repeated softly, "*There's nothing in the safe!*"
Thomas swore. He lunged. He made it through the window. His full weight slammed into the railing of the fire escape. It was an old building, and Thomas was huge. Metal screamed in protest (like the old man hadn't, just a short, startled bark and a gurgling wheeze) followed by the crack of a bolt popping free of brick (that was scratched and marked around the bolt like it had been methodically scraped away by something sharp) followed by another scream, a real one this time, as the fire escape jolted just enough for Thomas to lose his balance.
Followed, after some time, by a wet, crunching thump.
The parrot perched on the tilted fire escape railing and ruffled its brightly-colored feathers, chuckling.
| I am dead. But I can't be. I can still think. But it must be true. As I look down on myself from a few feet up, I am unrecognizable. A bloody mess with organs sprawled on the ground. And something else. A rat must have gotten into my body, as it seems to be writhing as it lies on the ground. A terrifying noise rings through the air. And a bug flies out of my carcass. A bug couldn't have jostled my body so much. There is no way! I black out. Maybe it was a dream. But when I wake up, I am still floating in midair. And watching the bug fly to the door of my murderer's house. My girlfriend. She killed me, being a black widow, as she told me before she did it, she hated men,but got close to them in order to kill them afterwards. My consciousness transported into the house, along with the flying bug, which landed on my girlfri- wait, ex's lap, and changed into a rat. She screamed, which for some reason brought my soul joy. She hated rats. And locusts. That's what it was when it was a bug. I wish I had some popcorn. The creature changed into a wolf. My killer screamed in fear. She didn't hate wolves, but having a snarling one in your house would be unpleasant. The doorbell rang. As the man stepped inside, I realized who it was. Rico Sanchez. He was my buddy in college. And when he heard her scream, he wrapped his arm around her. The creature had turned itself into a spider. My ex pointed in fear.
"A wo-w-w-" Clearly, from my mindset, I knew she was saying wolf, but Rico, an entomologist, did not.
"It's just a spider, dear. And it's not a widow spider either."
My ex would be a widow. There was a knife in her pocket, presumably to kill Rico. It would take a long time to clean the blood out of her carpet. But I( had forgotten about the tiger. Or I guess what is now a tiger. It snarled, and she screamed, but Rico must have still thought it was a spider.
"It's just an arachnid, dear." The killer took the knife out of her pocket and slashed at the tiger. It just passed through the strange creature. but the true terror was on Rico's face. This was getting good.
"W-why do you have a knife, dear?"
'Why do you think?" And as she stabbed at the poor man, the tiger lunged at her. It dissipated into mist, but the black widow started clutching her chest. Rico panted in relief as the room started to get darker. And I sighed with the same relief as I myself dissipated into dust.
Edit: Spelling and grammar
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[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | I'm a Guardian. And I've just failed my charge. Watching her die helpless, all alone as she took her last breath. I could do nothing as the knife plunged into her. I was helpless then. No longer. It's time I avenged her.
To hunt a man and kill him, one must render him defenseless. I'm an immaterial being, unable to affect the material world nor am I able to influence it directly. So I go directly to his Guardian.
I request his Guardian to stand aside as I enact my revenge. A formality, really. No Guardian would ever willingly let their charge come to harm while they're around. My request denied I ready my plan.
A simple distraction, a trap set and ready. We cannot touch the material, but the intangible? That's our purview. Our weakness and now, my weapon and strength. As he lay dreaming that night, I let lose a few stray nightmares. Nothing strong, not horrific. Just enough to get his Guardian to dispatch them away from him.
I quickly dropped a seed of mania in his mind. Small and insignificant now, but in the rich and fertile fields of his mind, it will grow. I cover it and whisper her name. He'll remember her.
Every night I let lose ever bigger nightmares. And every night his Guardian runs ragged trying to contain them all. Most are contained. And every night I sow more seeds. Discord, doubt, insecurity, fear. I sow and they take root in his mind. By day, his Guardian clears them all.
It doesn't work. Seeds of horror are like weeds. They cling on to you, like burr and grow quickly. Much too quickly. It can't be undone. And so I watch. I watch as madness takes over. And I watch in satisfaction as he steps over the edge and plummets over the edge of the building.
It's time. My charge is dead. My revenge fulfilled. And it's now time for me to receive my punishment. I can feel the call. I think maybe it'll hurt. But that's alright. It was worth it. I smile as I step lightly into the light. | I am dead. But I can't be. I can still think. But it must be true. As I look down on myself from a few feet up, I am unrecognizable. A bloody mess with organs sprawled on the ground. And something else. A rat must have gotten into my body, as it seems to be writhing as it lies on the ground. A terrifying noise rings through the air. And a bug flies out of my carcass. A bug couldn't have jostled my body so much. There is no way! I black out. Maybe it was a dream. But when I wake up, I am still floating in midair. And watching the bug fly to the door of my murderer's house. My girlfriend. She killed me, being a black widow, as she told me before she did it, she hated men,but got close to them in order to kill them afterwards. My consciousness transported into the house, along with the flying bug, which landed on my girlfri- wait, ex's lap, and changed into a rat. She screamed, which for some reason brought my soul joy. She hated rats. And locusts. That's what it was when it was a bug. I wish I had some popcorn. The creature changed into a wolf. My killer screamed in fear. She didn't hate wolves, but having a snarling one in your house would be unpleasant. The doorbell rang. As the man stepped inside, I realized who it was. Rico Sanchez. He was my buddy in college. And when he heard her scream, he wrapped his arm around her. The creature had turned itself into a spider. My ex pointed in fear.
"A wo-w-w-" Clearly, from my mindset, I knew she was saying wolf, but Rico, an entomologist, did not.
"It's just a spider, dear. And it's not a widow spider either."
My ex would be a widow. There was a knife in her pocket, presumably to kill Rico. It would take a long time to clean the blood out of her carpet. But I( had forgotten about the tiger. Or I guess what is now a tiger. It snarled, and she screamed, but Rico must have still thought it was a spider.
"It's just an arachnid, dear." The killer took the knife out of her pocket and slashed at the tiger. It just passed through the strange creature. but the true terror was on Rico's face. This was getting good.
"W-why do you have a knife, dear?"
'Why do you think?" And as she stabbed at the poor man, the tiger lunged at her. It dissipated into mist, but the black widow started clutching her chest. Rico panted in relief as the room started to get darker. And I sighed with the same relief as I myself dissipated into dust.
Edit: Spelling and grammar
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[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | After what can only be described as my soul leaving my body, watching the doctors give up not long after and declare me dead, I noticed the cockroach.
There was nothing obviously different about the cockroach, but somehow I knew that the cockroach was there for me. I think it was the fact that it stood on it's hindmost legs, looked directly at me (the floating me, not the dead body me), and started waving everything else in a deliberate "follow me" gesture.
All of this, being exceedingly surreal, yet having no other pressing needs at the moment, I gave him a little wave. At that he dropped down to all sixes and scurried into a gap between the floor and wall.
I rushed to follow, I didn't want to lose him, and suddenly found myself in the middle of the wall. Part of me back in the room with my body, the other part in a hallway, people scurrying to and fro, on whatever it is that the living still need to do.
I notice my wife, or who used to be my wife, until moments ago, who may or may not still be my wife, all things considered, sitting in a chair, a look of worry, tears on her face. I almost feel like I need to touch her, but it passes. Apparently, the dead forget, quickly.
I turn to look for the cockroach. I don't see him, but somehow, I know where he is. He's moving quickly. Much quicker than any cockroach I knew in life. Not that I knew any. Most cockroaches I ever saw I simply squished, or ignored. I hope he doesn't hold that against me. Maybe he's leading me to a ghostly doom, in revenge of his fallen comrades.
I don't dwell on this. As a matter of fact, I find myself moving much quicker than I expected. For a brief instant, I feel surprise and shock, but being dead, it quickly passes. I find I don't care about that, either.
The cockroach has entered a house. It's unfamiliar to me, I'm pretty sure I've never been there before, yet at the same time, I feel drawn to it. I think I should stop a moment, but a sensation, not unlike a nicotine fit (from the days I smoked), compels me forward, and I find myself hovering next to a sleeping woman, the cockroach sitting on her pillow by her head.
I know this woman. The woman that shot me. Already, I don't remember much of my life. I think I mentioned, the dead don't care, but her...I remember. I don't remember any details, just her, the gun, the shot, the pain...
Suddenly, another cockroach appears. This one is normal, but my cockroach, appears to communicate with it. With that, the cockroach (the normal one) turns, and crawls into the ear of the sleeping woman.
I feel glee. With anticipation, I wait to see the result. I don't know how long I waited. A moment, an hour, time has no meaning, and I don't feel the least bit bored or impatient.
Her eyes flutter open, tears spring to her eyes, and in apparent agony, shoves a finger in the ear the cockroach crawled into. She sits up, and the cockroach falls out and scurries away.
I feel disappointed that her pain was so short lived.
After a moment, I see her laying in her bed again, sleeping. It's been an hour, or maybe a day, I don't know. The cockroach (my cockroach) is next to her head on the pillow again, and not long after, another cockroach appears, and crawls into her ear.
The scene repeats, over and over, sometimes with small differences, so I know that each time this happens, it's a new event, a new experience of agony for her, and each time, I feel unrestrained glee. Sleeping in her bed, sitting on her couch, driving in her car, in church, at the store, even during sex, my cockroach has directed some other cockroach to burrow into her ear. Sometimes the live cockroach escapes...sometimes they don't, but there's no shortage of cockroaches, and my cockroach never seems to tire.
Frankly, neither do I.
| I am dead. But I can't be. I can still think. But it must be true. As I look down on myself from a few feet up, I am unrecognizable. A bloody mess with organs sprawled on the ground. And something else. A rat must have gotten into my body, as it seems to be writhing as it lies on the ground. A terrifying noise rings through the air. And a bug flies out of my carcass. A bug couldn't have jostled my body so much. There is no way! I black out. Maybe it was a dream. But when I wake up, I am still floating in midair. And watching the bug fly to the door of my murderer's house. My girlfriend. She killed me, being a black widow, as she told me before she did it, she hated men,but got close to them in order to kill them afterwards. My consciousness transported into the house, along with the flying bug, which landed on my girlfri- wait, ex's lap, and changed into a rat. She screamed, which for some reason brought my soul joy. She hated rats. And locusts. That's what it was when it was a bug. I wish I had some popcorn. The creature changed into a wolf. My killer screamed in fear. She didn't hate wolves, but having a snarling one in your house would be unpleasant. The doorbell rang. As the man stepped inside, I realized who it was. Rico Sanchez. He was my buddy in college. And when he heard her scream, he wrapped his arm around her. The creature had turned itself into a spider. My ex pointed in fear.
"A wo-w-w-" Clearly, from my mindset, I knew she was saying wolf, but Rico, an entomologist, did not.
"It's just a spider, dear. And it's not a widow spider either."
My ex would be a widow. There was a knife in her pocket, presumably to kill Rico. It would take a long time to clean the blood out of her carpet. But I( had forgotten about the tiger. Or I guess what is now a tiger. It snarled, and she screamed, but Rico must have still thought it was a spider.
"It's just an arachnid, dear." The killer took the knife out of her pocket and slashed at the tiger. It just passed through the strange creature. but the true terror was on Rico's face. This was getting good.
"W-why do you have a knife, dear?"
'Why do you think?" And as she stabbed at the poor man, the tiger lunged at her. It dissipated into mist, but the black widow started clutching her chest. Rico panted in relief as the room started to get darker. And I sighed with the same relief as I myself dissipated into dust.
Edit: Spelling and grammar
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[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | I never thought I’d see a Guardian at such a young age. We always learnt at school that killing people was bad, and if you killed someone, you were cursed by the victim’s Guardian. I guess nobody knew that you were able to see your Guardian after you were murdered.
My Guardian told me that it was normal for murdered souls to still hang around Earth because of lingering regret. I’m not sure I had any lingering regrets though. Maybe not telling my mom I love her for the last time, or being there to protect her. My father was violent and always hit my mom or me. I felt it was unjust knowing my mother had to face Father’s wrath alone.
After my death, I followed my Guardian around while he stalked my killer. My father stomped down the front steps on his way to work, a heavy air hanging around him. His hair was unkempt and his tie loose. Mom looked more frazzled than usual as she rushed after him to straighten his tie and comb his hair. He slapped her hands away. She brought her hand to her chest before turning back indoors and slamming the door behind her. My father sighed heavily and looked up briefly to acknowledge my neighbour, Mr. Gage.
Father drove off to work. My Guardian and I stayed behind, as usual, to observe Mr. Gage. He was the one who killed me, my Guardian told me.
I was shocked. Mr. Gage moved into the neighbourhood two years ago. Although he had no children of his own, he lived with his dog and two cats.
Guardians are silent, but they speak through our minds. They don’t really have a physical form, they mostly look like shadows and wisps. They are the things that people think they see out of the corner of their eye, only when you look for it, you can’t see it.
Mr. Gage watched my house for a few minutes while pretending to prune his hedge. We followed when he went back inside the house. He was preparing to move out, feigning that he was offered a job in another state.
My Guardian never told me how I died, apparently it was too gruesome for a 13 year old boy to know. I didn’t really want to know anyway.
As Mr. Gage packs his belongings, a piece of paper flutter to the ground. Mr. Gage looks at the paper and he immediately looks for something. I catch a look at the paper. It’s a permission slip for a school trip my class was planning. He finds what he was looking for - a lighter - and sets the paper alight.
Mr. Gage packs his things faster. He freezes when the doorbell rings. It’s mom.
She’s brought over some potato salad because there was too much for just her and my father. Mr. Gage tells mom that he has something for her too and hands over a box. Mom opens it. It’s some of my toys that I thought were lost but were actually in Mr. Gage’s yard. There a few of my other belongings too.
Mom tears up and her hand trembles as she picks up one of the toys. She sifts through the box and something catches her eye. “How did you get this?” she demands.
Mr. Gage stiffens. Mom holds up a piece of paper.
“I’m not sure,” he begins cautiously, “maybe it flew over the fence too.”
Mom’s bottom lip trembles. “This is my son’s permission slip that was issued on the day he was murdered. He didn’t come home with this slip!”
Mr. Gage is white as a sheet and visibly sweating on his upper lip. “It’s all because of your husband!”
Mom looks as shocked as Mr. Gage.
“Your husband killed my son! He hit my dear boy with that filthy car of his and ran off!” Mr. Gage’s voice broke.
Mom doesn’t say anything, and just stands in the doorway with her mouth agape.
“I’m calling the police,” Mom says in a calm voice after a minute. “This will have your fingerprints on it.”
“Wait- please- I can explain!” Mr. Gage exclaims. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a pocket knife. He lunges towards mom. I yell to warn her but she can’t hear me.
Mom screams. Mr. Gage looks down. She’s not hurt. He’s holding a toy knife, the ones that go back in when you stab someone.
Mom runs off while Mr. Gage looks defeated.
“It’s easy to make someone think they see what they want to see,” my Guardian tells me in my head, “or don’t want to see.”
“I put a similar curse on him that was put on your father,” my Guardian adds but doesn’t further explain.
I find out later in my father’s and Mr. Gage’s testimonies. Mr. Gage’s son was murdered in an unsolved hit-and-run. Mr. Gage discovered the driver was my father. He researched on ways to get back at him, not knowing my father was reliving his guilt every day.
My father acknowledged his domestic abuse problem after being shown photos of mom’s bruises and her medical reports. He also admitted he abused me too, only because he hated the fact that I was growing up to look more and more like the boy he killed in that hit-and-run. He hated looking at me, to be reminded of his guilt. He hated my mother for giving birth to a child who looked just like the boy he killed.
When I looked at the photo of Mr. Gage’s son, he looked nothing like me. I remembered what my Guardian told me earlier.
Although it was nice knowing my murderer had been caught, I still wanted to say goodbye to mom.
My Guardian couldn’t do anything to help me since he could only help in haunting the murderer. My Guardian would still continue to haunt Mr. Gage for the rest of his life.
I didn’t have to follow my Guardian around so I stayed with mom. She was going through the box that Mr. Gage gave her, smiling as she touched each toy. She gasped when she came to an envelope addressed to her.
I remembered writing it when I was 11 for Mother’s Day. I wanted to post it through the mail so I had written the address and stamped it. I look now to find that I had written Mr. Gage’s address by mistake. She carefully opened it, her eyes brimming with tears.
Inside was a short letter telling her how thankful I was to have her as a mom, and how much I love her. There was also a small plastic ring inside, one of those freebie’s inside candy packets.
She gave a tearful smile and slid the ring on her pinky finger. | I am dead. But I can't be. I can still think. But it must be true. As I look down on myself from a few feet up, I am unrecognizable. A bloody mess with organs sprawled on the ground. And something else. A rat must have gotten into my body, as it seems to be writhing as it lies on the ground. A terrifying noise rings through the air. And a bug flies out of my carcass. A bug couldn't have jostled my body so much. There is no way! I black out. Maybe it was a dream. But when I wake up, I am still floating in midair. And watching the bug fly to the door of my murderer's house. My girlfriend. She killed me, being a black widow, as she told me before she did it, she hated men,but got close to them in order to kill them afterwards. My consciousness transported into the house, along with the flying bug, which landed on my girlfri- wait, ex's lap, and changed into a rat. She screamed, which for some reason brought my soul joy. She hated rats. And locusts. That's what it was when it was a bug. I wish I had some popcorn. The creature changed into a wolf. My killer screamed in fear. She didn't hate wolves, but having a snarling one in your house would be unpleasant. The doorbell rang. As the man stepped inside, I realized who it was. Rico Sanchez. He was my buddy in college. And when he heard her scream, he wrapped his arm around her. The creature had turned itself into a spider. My ex pointed in fear.
"A wo-w-w-" Clearly, from my mindset, I knew she was saying wolf, but Rico, an entomologist, did not.
"It's just a spider, dear. And it's not a widow spider either."
My ex would be a widow. There was a knife in her pocket, presumably to kill Rico. It would take a long time to clean the blood out of her carpet. But I( had forgotten about the tiger. Or I guess what is now a tiger. It snarled, and she screamed, but Rico must have still thought it was a spider.
"It's just an arachnid, dear." The killer took the knife out of her pocket and slashed at the tiger. It just passed through the strange creature. but the true terror was on Rico's face. This was getting good.
"W-why do you have a knife, dear?"
'Why do you think?" And as she stabbed at the poor man, the tiger lunged at her. It dissipated into mist, but the black widow started clutching her chest. Rico panted in relief as the room started to get darker. And I sighed with the same relief as I myself dissipated into dust.
Edit: Spelling and grammar
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[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Thomas ran a shaking hand through his wet hair. He picked up the glass from the table, spilling onto his sleeve. He put the glass back on the table, his throat too tight to drink.
The room was silent. He should get a clock, he thought suddenly. A real old-fashioned one, the kind with slender hands and a slow, steady tick to measure the passing of time. *Tick, tick* everything is fine *tick, tick* the world is still turning *tick, tick* see? it's ok.
*Tick, tick.* His chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he jerked backwards. He *had* heard it this time. Not the slow, steady, heavy march of time ticking; the sharp, scraping tick of pins on wood.
"*AUWK!*"
"*FUCK!*"
Not pins on wood. His heart clattered against his ribcage. Claws on wood. Or talons? Isn't it talons when they're on a bird? Fuck. There was a bird in the window. The open window. He didn't remember opening the window. But then, he didn't remember a lot of things that had happened after... before he'd come to in the shower, watching the last of the pink trails eddying around his feet and circling the drain...
"*Auwk!*" The bird repeated. Thomas didn't know much about birds, but you didn't need to know that much to realize it was obviously a parrot, bright green with a yellow and blue head. It doubled over, rubbing its beak against the windowsill, *tick, tick.* So, not its claws, or talons, or whatever, after all.
He laughed to ease the pressure in his chest. "Where the fuck did you come from?" He tried to remember if anyone in the building had a parrot, but he wasn't close with his neighbors. In any case, parrots are expensive, and he still needed money. He got up slowly.
The parrot shuffled and muttered like a cranky old man, turning its head to fix him with a reproachful glare.
"Pretty bird," he warbled, "c'mere, pretty bird."
"*Who's there?*" the parrot answered, in a high, frail voice that froze Thomas in his tracks. "*Who's there? I'm calling the police!*"
Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but he couldn't understand how. He felt cold as ice, dry as a desert. Where did it come from?
"*Open the fucking safe!*" *His* voice this time, but tinny, like an old recording. The parrot stared at him, as if daring him to answer.
"You weren't there," he croaked dumbly. He would have remembered. He would have- there just wasn't. Only the old man, and him. And then just him. *He would have remembered.*
The parrot clicked its beak rapidly and bobbed its head, like it was laughing at him. "*I'm calling the police!*"
"You can't," his face felt numb and he wasn't sure if he had said that, or if it was the parrot again. It clicked its beak again, ruffling its bright feathers.
"*Open the fucking safe!*" Thomas said again, but definitely not from his mouth this time. "*I'll fucking kill you if you don't open the fucking safe!*"
Thomas lunged. The parrot, beak clattering like laughter, evaded him with ease and settled to perch on the railing of the rusted fire escape. It bobbed up and down, dancing spitefully out of reach.
"*I'm calling the police!*" It taunted, then wolf-whistled.
"I'll fucking kill you," Thomas, the real Thomas, hissed for the second time that night. The window was a tight squeeze - it was an old building and the windows were huge, but so was Thomas - and he got stuck at the shoulders. The parrot turned its rainbow head from side to side, watching him struggle.
"Oh, fuck this," he panted, adrenaline or anger or whatever it was driving him draining rapidly away. He glared at the parrot. "Nobody's gonna listen to a stupid bird."
The parrot ruffled its feathers and fixed a sharp, red eye on Thomas' sweaty face. Its pupil flashed, flaring up huge and black before shrinking to a vengeful pinprick.
"*Fuck!*" it repeated softly, "*There's nothing in the safe!*"
Thomas swore. He lunged. He made it through the window. His full weight slammed into the railing of the fire escape. It was an old building, and Thomas was huge. Metal screamed in protest (like the old man hadn't, just a short, startled bark and a gurgling wheeze) followed by the crack of a bolt popping free of brick (that was scratched and marked around the bolt like it had been methodically scraped away by something sharp) followed by another scream, a real one this time, as the fire escape jolted just enough for Thomas to lose his balance.
Followed, after some time, by a wet, crunching thump.
The parrot perched on the tilted fire escape railing and ruffled its brightly-colored feathers, chuckling.
| [Okay, so this might turn out to be a combination of a little silly and a little dark. It's my first submission, sorry for any major errors or stupid mistakes. I hope you enjoy it.]
It started with a murder. A lot of stories do, and this one went as a lot of murders do. One man stopped another in a dark alley and demanded all of his money. There was a fight and the second man never left that alley alive. The murderer thought he'd gotten away with it, but then strange things started happening.
A week after the murder, the guilty man was walking down the street. He finally felt more relaxed, and wasn't looking over his shoulder every two seconds. As he moved down the side walk, he started catching strange glimpses out of the corner of his eye. He would catch a flash of black and white, but every time he looked it was just the regular pedestrians. Shaking his head, the murderer kept walking. Maybe he wasn't quite over it yet.
A few days later he was at the bank. While waiting in line, the man caught sight of something strange. There was a *penguin* in one of the offices! He grabbed his phone, but when he went to take a picture, there was just a man giving him a funny look. Rubbing his eyes, he looked again and the penguin was back! Grabbing the shoulder of the man next to him, the murderer pointed wordlessly. Before they turned back though, the penguin was gone again. The second man shook the murderer's hand off of his shoulder and hurried to a different line. The murderer shoved his hands in his pockets and ducked his head, staring at the floor.
...
They were everywhere. The murderer was sure of it. No matter where he went he saw the damned *penguins!* At the grocery store in the freezer section, behind him on the streets, once in his apartment! He couldn't escape the birds and it was playing havoc with his mind. No one else ever saw them. The murderer would try to point them out, tried to get pictures, but they were always gone. He couldn't take it anymore. Holding the gun to his head, a suicide note in hand, telling the world what he had done and what he had scene, he pulled the trigger.
On the roof, a lone penguin smiled. The expression didn't fit the normally inexpressive face. Slowly, the face changed, and soon something else was standing in it's place. There was a sense of *wrongness* to the new occupant. Anyone nearby suddenly felt chilled, and hurried on their way, heads down and eyes searching to and fro with paranoid flickering. The thing had done it's job, and had guarded the man it had been given throughout his life. It had also avenged him, after it's death. The naagloshii chuckled to itself, and then a small bird left the roof top and flew towards the forests to the north.
[Thanks for reading if you got this far! I based my story on my favorite animal, a penguin, and one of the monsters that has affected me the most in literature, the Naagloshii. I first read of it in the [Dresden Files](http://dresdenfiles.wikia.com/wiki/Naagloshii) and have done a little more research into the original Native American legend of the [Skin-Walkers.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skin-walker) If you have any comments or criticism I'd be happy to hear them as it is my first submission, as I mentioned. Have a great day!] | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | I'm a Guardian. And I've just failed my charge. Watching her die helpless, all alone as she took her last breath. I could do nothing as the knife plunged into her. I was helpless then. No longer. It's time I avenged her.
To hunt a man and kill him, one must render him defenseless. I'm an immaterial being, unable to affect the material world nor am I able to influence it directly. So I go directly to his Guardian.
I request his Guardian to stand aside as I enact my revenge. A formality, really. No Guardian would ever willingly let their charge come to harm while they're around. My request denied I ready my plan.
A simple distraction, a trap set and ready. We cannot touch the material, but the intangible? That's our purview. Our weakness and now, my weapon and strength. As he lay dreaming that night, I let lose a few stray nightmares. Nothing strong, not horrific. Just enough to get his Guardian to dispatch them away from him.
I quickly dropped a seed of mania in his mind. Small and insignificant now, but in the rich and fertile fields of his mind, it will grow. I cover it and whisper her name. He'll remember her.
Every night I let lose ever bigger nightmares. And every night his Guardian runs ragged trying to contain them all. Most are contained. And every night I sow more seeds. Discord, doubt, insecurity, fear. I sow and they take root in his mind. By day, his Guardian clears them all.
It doesn't work. Seeds of horror are like weeds. They cling on to you, like burr and grow quickly. Much too quickly. It can't be undone. And so I watch. I watch as madness takes over. And I watch in satisfaction as he steps over the edge and plummets over the edge of the building.
It's time. My charge is dead. My revenge fulfilled. And it's now time for me to receive my punishment. I can feel the call. I think maybe it'll hurt. But that's alright. It was worth it. I smile as I step lightly into the light. | [Okay, so this might turn out to be a combination of a little silly and a little dark. It's my first submission, sorry for any major errors or stupid mistakes. I hope you enjoy it.]
It started with a murder. A lot of stories do, and this one went as a lot of murders do. One man stopped another in a dark alley and demanded all of his money. There was a fight and the second man never left that alley alive. The murderer thought he'd gotten away with it, but then strange things started happening.
A week after the murder, the guilty man was walking down the street. He finally felt more relaxed, and wasn't looking over his shoulder every two seconds. As he moved down the side walk, he started catching strange glimpses out of the corner of his eye. He would catch a flash of black and white, but every time he looked it was just the regular pedestrians. Shaking his head, the murderer kept walking. Maybe he wasn't quite over it yet.
A few days later he was at the bank. While waiting in line, the man caught sight of something strange. There was a *penguin* in one of the offices! He grabbed his phone, but when he went to take a picture, there was just a man giving him a funny look. Rubbing his eyes, he looked again and the penguin was back! Grabbing the shoulder of the man next to him, the murderer pointed wordlessly. Before they turned back though, the penguin was gone again. The second man shook the murderer's hand off of his shoulder and hurried to a different line. The murderer shoved his hands in his pockets and ducked his head, staring at the floor.
...
They were everywhere. The murderer was sure of it. No matter where he went he saw the damned *penguins!* At the grocery store in the freezer section, behind him on the streets, once in his apartment! He couldn't escape the birds and it was playing havoc with his mind. No one else ever saw them. The murderer would try to point them out, tried to get pictures, but they were always gone. He couldn't take it anymore. Holding the gun to his head, a suicide note in hand, telling the world what he had done and what he had scene, he pulled the trigger.
On the roof, a lone penguin smiled. The expression didn't fit the normally inexpressive face. Slowly, the face changed, and soon something else was standing in it's place. There was a sense of *wrongness* to the new occupant. Anyone nearby suddenly felt chilled, and hurried on their way, heads down and eyes searching to and fro with paranoid flickering. The thing had done it's job, and had guarded the man it had been given throughout his life. It had also avenged him, after it's death. The naagloshii chuckled to itself, and then a small bird left the roof top and flew towards the forests to the north.
[Thanks for reading if you got this far! I based my story on my favorite animal, a penguin, and one of the monsters that has affected me the most in literature, the Naagloshii. I first read of it in the [Dresden Files](http://dresdenfiles.wikia.com/wiki/Naagloshii) and have done a little more research into the original Native American legend of the [Skin-Walkers.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skin-walker) If you have any comments or criticism I'd be happy to hear them as it is my first submission, as I mentioned. Have a great day!] | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | After what can only be described as my soul leaving my body, watching the doctors give up not long after and declare me dead, I noticed the cockroach.
There was nothing obviously different about the cockroach, but somehow I knew that the cockroach was there for me. I think it was the fact that it stood on it's hindmost legs, looked directly at me (the floating me, not the dead body me), and started waving everything else in a deliberate "follow me" gesture.
All of this, being exceedingly surreal, yet having no other pressing needs at the moment, I gave him a little wave. At that he dropped down to all sixes and scurried into a gap between the floor and wall.
I rushed to follow, I didn't want to lose him, and suddenly found myself in the middle of the wall. Part of me back in the room with my body, the other part in a hallway, people scurrying to and fro, on whatever it is that the living still need to do.
I notice my wife, or who used to be my wife, until moments ago, who may or may not still be my wife, all things considered, sitting in a chair, a look of worry, tears on her face. I almost feel like I need to touch her, but it passes. Apparently, the dead forget, quickly.
I turn to look for the cockroach. I don't see him, but somehow, I know where he is. He's moving quickly. Much quicker than any cockroach I knew in life. Not that I knew any. Most cockroaches I ever saw I simply squished, or ignored. I hope he doesn't hold that against me. Maybe he's leading me to a ghostly doom, in revenge of his fallen comrades.
I don't dwell on this. As a matter of fact, I find myself moving much quicker than I expected. For a brief instant, I feel surprise and shock, but being dead, it quickly passes. I find I don't care about that, either.
The cockroach has entered a house. It's unfamiliar to me, I'm pretty sure I've never been there before, yet at the same time, I feel drawn to it. I think I should stop a moment, but a sensation, not unlike a nicotine fit (from the days I smoked), compels me forward, and I find myself hovering next to a sleeping woman, the cockroach sitting on her pillow by her head.
I know this woman. The woman that shot me. Already, I don't remember much of my life. I think I mentioned, the dead don't care, but her...I remember. I don't remember any details, just her, the gun, the shot, the pain...
Suddenly, another cockroach appears. This one is normal, but my cockroach, appears to communicate with it. With that, the cockroach (the normal one) turns, and crawls into the ear of the sleeping woman.
I feel glee. With anticipation, I wait to see the result. I don't know how long I waited. A moment, an hour, time has no meaning, and I don't feel the least bit bored or impatient.
Her eyes flutter open, tears spring to her eyes, and in apparent agony, shoves a finger in the ear the cockroach crawled into. She sits up, and the cockroach falls out and scurries away.
I feel disappointed that her pain was so short lived.
After a moment, I see her laying in her bed again, sleeping. It's been an hour, or maybe a day, I don't know. The cockroach (my cockroach) is next to her head on the pillow again, and not long after, another cockroach appears, and crawls into her ear.
The scene repeats, over and over, sometimes with small differences, so I know that each time this happens, it's a new event, a new experience of agony for her, and each time, I feel unrestrained glee. Sleeping in her bed, sitting on her couch, driving in her car, in church, at the store, even during sex, my cockroach has directed some other cockroach to burrow into her ear. Sometimes the live cockroach escapes...sometimes they don't, but there's no shortage of cockroaches, and my cockroach never seems to tire.
Frankly, neither do I.
| Vince stood from his kneeling position, patting his hands off on his coat. Before him was a positively destroyed wall, and another beyond it, and another...
Beyond all of those broken walls was a corpse, laying in the living room of one of the nearby ground-floor apartments. Policemen swarmed the building, as did confused and sometimes irate residents, wondering why there were new holes leading through their apartments.
"What's your prognosis, detective?"
Vince turned his head, glancing toward his female counterpart- a younger woman, whose exemplary performance in the academy and later on the street let her climb the ranks of the local PD almost effortlessly.
"I said-"
"Power-type guardian, that much is for sure," Vince said. "No other type could bust through this many walls. And we're dealing with one that is very, very angry. The confusing thing is..." He slowly kneeled again, looking over some of the debris. "How is it running around when the host is six feet under?"
"It doesn't seem that far-fetched, Vince," Katrina said. She moved to stand next to him, idly looking over the damage. "... They exist, after all. What's to say one couldn't just roam around?" The concept of a 'hidden' guardian didn't last all that long, in modern society. The phenomenon was documented and researched to the point where it was *almost* common knowledge.
"Here's the thing, Katrina. Guardians are supposed to *die* when the host dies. They aren't supposed to just walk around like the hero of some action flick." He stood again, putting his hands in his pockets. "But we've got no idea what our perp looks like."
"'Perp'? You're calling the guardian a 'perp', now?"
"Take a look around, Kat. We've got ten busted up walls, one dead body, and not a whole lotta answers."
---
Something quick because I'm likely gonna be busy all day. Sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted, but the first thing my mind went to was [JJBA](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/JoJo%27s_Bizarre_Adventure) themes. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | I never thought I’d see a Guardian at such a young age. We always learnt at school that killing people was bad, and if you killed someone, you were cursed by the victim’s Guardian. I guess nobody knew that you were able to see your Guardian after you were murdered.
My Guardian told me that it was normal for murdered souls to still hang around Earth because of lingering regret. I’m not sure I had any lingering regrets though. Maybe not telling my mom I love her for the last time, or being there to protect her. My father was violent and always hit my mom or me. I felt it was unjust knowing my mother had to face Father’s wrath alone.
After my death, I followed my Guardian around while he stalked my killer. My father stomped down the front steps on his way to work, a heavy air hanging around him. His hair was unkempt and his tie loose. Mom looked more frazzled than usual as she rushed after him to straighten his tie and comb his hair. He slapped her hands away. She brought her hand to her chest before turning back indoors and slamming the door behind her. My father sighed heavily and looked up briefly to acknowledge my neighbour, Mr. Gage.
Father drove off to work. My Guardian and I stayed behind, as usual, to observe Mr. Gage. He was the one who killed me, my Guardian told me.
I was shocked. Mr. Gage moved into the neighbourhood two years ago. Although he had no children of his own, he lived with his dog and two cats.
Guardians are silent, but they speak through our minds. They don’t really have a physical form, they mostly look like shadows and wisps. They are the things that people think they see out of the corner of their eye, only when you look for it, you can’t see it.
Mr. Gage watched my house for a few minutes while pretending to prune his hedge. We followed when he went back inside the house. He was preparing to move out, feigning that he was offered a job in another state.
My Guardian never told me how I died, apparently it was too gruesome for a 13 year old boy to know. I didn’t really want to know anyway.
As Mr. Gage packs his belongings, a piece of paper flutter to the ground. Mr. Gage looks at the paper and he immediately looks for something. I catch a look at the paper. It’s a permission slip for a school trip my class was planning. He finds what he was looking for - a lighter - and sets the paper alight.
Mr. Gage packs his things faster. He freezes when the doorbell rings. It’s mom.
She’s brought over some potato salad because there was too much for just her and my father. Mr. Gage tells mom that he has something for her too and hands over a box. Mom opens it. It’s some of my toys that I thought were lost but were actually in Mr. Gage’s yard. There a few of my other belongings too.
Mom tears up and her hand trembles as she picks up one of the toys. She sifts through the box and something catches her eye. “How did you get this?” she demands.
Mr. Gage stiffens. Mom holds up a piece of paper.
“I’m not sure,” he begins cautiously, “maybe it flew over the fence too.”
Mom’s bottom lip trembles. “This is my son’s permission slip that was issued on the day he was murdered. He didn’t come home with this slip!”
Mr. Gage is white as a sheet and visibly sweating on his upper lip. “It’s all because of your husband!”
Mom looks as shocked as Mr. Gage.
“Your husband killed my son! He hit my dear boy with that filthy car of his and ran off!” Mr. Gage’s voice broke.
Mom doesn’t say anything, and just stands in the doorway with her mouth agape.
“I’m calling the police,” Mom says in a calm voice after a minute. “This will have your fingerprints on it.”
“Wait- please- I can explain!” Mr. Gage exclaims. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a pocket knife. He lunges towards mom. I yell to warn her but she can’t hear me.
Mom screams. Mr. Gage looks down. She’s not hurt. He’s holding a toy knife, the ones that go back in when you stab someone.
Mom runs off while Mr. Gage looks defeated.
“It’s easy to make someone think they see what they want to see,” my Guardian tells me in my head, “or don’t want to see.”
“I put a similar curse on him that was put on your father,” my Guardian adds but doesn’t further explain.
I find out later in my father’s and Mr. Gage’s testimonies. Mr. Gage’s son was murdered in an unsolved hit-and-run. Mr. Gage discovered the driver was my father. He researched on ways to get back at him, not knowing my father was reliving his guilt every day.
My father acknowledged his domestic abuse problem after being shown photos of mom’s bruises and her medical reports. He also admitted he abused me too, only because he hated the fact that I was growing up to look more and more like the boy he killed in that hit-and-run. He hated looking at me, to be reminded of his guilt. He hated my mother for giving birth to a child who looked just like the boy he killed.
When I looked at the photo of Mr. Gage’s son, he looked nothing like me. I remembered what my Guardian told me earlier.
Although it was nice knowing my murderer had been caught, I still wanted to say goodbye to mom.
My Guardian couldn’t do anything to help me since he could only help in haunting the murderer. My Guardian would still continue to haunt Mr. Gage for the rest of his life.
I didn’t have to follow my Guardian around so I stayed with mom. She was going through the box that Mr. Gage gave her, smiling as she touched each toy. She gasped when she came to an envelope addressed to her.
I remembered writing it when I was 11 for Mother’s Day. I wanted to post it through the mail so I had written the address and stamped it. I look now to find that I had written Mr. Gage’s address by mistake. She carefully opened it, her eyes brimming with tears.
Inside was a short letter telling her how thankful I was to have her as a mom, and how much I love her. There was also a small plastic ring inside, one of those freebie’s inside candy packets.
She gave a tearful smile and slid the ring on her pinky finger. | Vince stood from his kneeling position, patting his hands off on his coat. Before him was a positively destroyed wall, and another beyond it, and another...
Beyond all of those broken walls was a corpse, laying in the living room of one of the nearby ground-floor apartments. Policemen swarmed the building, as did confused and sometimes irate residents, wondering why there were new holes leading through their apartments.
"What's your prognosis, detective?"
Vince turned his head, glancing toward his female counterpart- a younger woman, whose exemplary performance in the academy and later on the street let her climb the ranks of the local PD almost effortlessly.
"I said-"
"Power-type guardian, that much is for sure," Vince said. "No other type could bust through this many walls. And we're dealing with one that is very, very angry. The confusing thing is..." He slowly kneeled again, looking over some of the debris. "How is it running around when the host is six feet under?"
"It doesn't seem that far-fetched, Vince," Katrina said. She moved to stand next to him, idly looking over the damage. "... They exist, after all. What's to say one couldn't just roam around?" The concept of a 'hidden' guardian didn't last all that long, in modern society. The phenomenon was documented and researched to the point where it was *almost* common knowledge.
"Here's the thing, Katrina. Guardians are supposed to *die* when the host dies. They aren't supposed to just walk around like the hero of some action flick." He stood again, putting his hands in his pockets. "But we've got no idea what our perp looks like."
"'Perp'? You're calling the guardian a 'perp', now?"
"Take a look around, Kat. We've got ten busted up walls, one dead body, and not a whole lotta answers."
---
Something quick because I'm likely gonna be busy all day. Sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted, but the first thing my mind went to was [JJBA](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/JoJo%27s_Bizarre_Adventure) themes. |
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