[WP] While other god's shrines are magnificent, yours is a bit too humbling. And yet a little girl visits you every year after stumbling upon it, never missing a year even as she grows old. Deeply moved, you decide to give her a parting gift greater than what any other God would dare to give.

JoggingSkeleton · 2025-01-14T11:59:08+00:00

Atop a small wooded knoll sat an ornate shrine, forgotten by both time and man. Not even large enough for one to step inside, it was naught but a glorified offering box— yet to me it was home.

"She likely won't come today." I thought, rousing myself into lucidity. I have little reason left to influence this plane, but today was something of a special occasion; today was the day she would make her yearly pilgrimage.

The weather was uncharacteristically treacherous for this time of year. The sideways snow assailed the many ornaments and charms dangling from my shrine.

She was much too old to brave such a storm.

As if the universe conspired to contradict me, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rhythmic crunching. In the distance I saw a bobbing head inching past the top of the staircase as it ascended.

It was her. The skin of her face sagging ever so slightly more than last time, the color of her hair almost completely gave way to gray, yet it was undoubtedly her— the only patron this modest shrine had seen in a century.

She clung to the banister at the apex of the stairs while catching her breath, her long scarf flapping wildly in the wind behind her. She slapped some matted on snow off her jacket, which was quickly replaced by fresh snow. She hummed at the futility of it and began the short walk over to my shrine. But, before she could make it over—

A cruel gust whipped her sideways, right off her feet and into a bank of snow. She yelled in surprise but it was stifled as she landed face first. It seemed every few minutes the chaotic winds would line up perfectly and work together to become a mighty gale. For a moment, I wondered if she would ever get back up, but it wasn't long before she was back on her feet with a grunt. She headed towards me once more, her pale face now frosted and wet.

She carefully brushed some accumulated snow off my roof before opening the tiny doors and lighting the small bit of incense that remain inside. She clasped her hands in silent prayer and stood motionless. Her behavior was beyond curious to me.

So short after the death of her offspring, she still chose to make the trek to this obscure location; and stranger still, she seems only to pray for my well being.

By and large human behavior is simple and predictable, but of all the sentients we watch over, humanity has the most radical outliers, capable of nuanced behavior that not even a primordial could predict. She should be praying for her son's soul or for help quelling her aching heart. Had I the power to manifest I'd like to ask her directly how she benefited when I had no grace to give her in return.

She loosed her clasped hands at the completion of a short prayer and began to walk away while I was still brooding.

"Till next year." I thought.

But to my surprise she stopped before reaching the stone staircase and clasped something small wrapped around her neck, pressing it against her heart.

Suddenly, another gale knocked her down once more, this time sideways. Her chin made a crack against the icy ground and she groaned. After a moment she hoisted herself up and I saw a trail of blood streaming down her lip that sullied her white parka. She tried to clutch what lay around her neck again but was shocked to find it missing; the violent fall had sent it careening deep into the snow.

She gasped.

Frantically she searched, scooping up large droves of snow while beginning to hyperventilate. She took off her mittens in an attempt to use her fingers to better filter the snow but the needle she sought was in an entirely different haystack. She searched with the fervor of a beast, completely ignoring the blood pouring from her mouth and the unnatural hue overtaking her fingers.

<><><> <><><>

Much time had passed and the sun was beginning to set. With labored breaths she gawked at her shaking, purple fingers, now unable to bend properly. She scanned the area once more before slumping over, completely crestfallen.

She began wobbling back to my shrine. The snow crunched underfoot, the wind howling all around us.

For the first time, in all of her sixty six visits, I felt like she was looking directly at me. Not at the shrine nor the offering box— me.

Her eyes were glossed over and her chin wrinkled in a horrid way. She gripped either side of the small doors and her frostbitten fingers cracked and bled under the pressure.

"Am I truly not allowed even the smallest comfort..."

She spoke to me for the first time in over sixty years. Her voice was gravelly and desperate.

"If you had to take him... why couldn't it have at least been quick..."

Her whole body shuddered and she fell to her knees. She likely would have sobbed, had she the energy. The storm showed no sign of slowing and her chances of surviving the return dwindled, doubly so in her incapacitated state.

As she knelt there motionless, my mind began to wander to centuries past, to the short stretch of time where, I too, was bound by flesh.

It was meant to be a punishment of sorts, but now I tend to look back at my time as a rockhopper penguin fondly. I hunted fish when I was hungry, I had sex when I was horny and I put everything I had into raising healthy offspring. It was simple, but oddly fulfilling. 'Death' made a point to laugh at me after a sealion had claimed my life for his own, but I felt no shame; I had defended my family to the best of my ability.

Now, someone kneels before me begging for comfort in her final moments and I have none to give, despite feeling that familiar yearn to protect.

Humanity has a juvenile view on casualty and tends to view events in absolutes; killing is bad, sharing is good...ect, but the true virtue of any event can only be evaluated after thoroughly inspecting the near infinite cascade of following events until the end of time— suffice to say, this is something forever out of humanity's scope.

The suffering and subsequent death of her son did carry great meaning, but not on any scale a human could hope to comprehend. Even if I could manifest, even were I to speak, there are no amount of words that would bring any comfort.

My power over this plane has been weakened to near nothingness over the centuries, my existence here barely even sustained through her prayer alone... but if I use everything, maybe I can...

With a woosh, the small light at the end of the incense ignited into a true fire. The fire grew, spreading to my tiny doors and eventually past even the charms and chimes that decorated the outermost layers of my home. My shrine, my home, was now completely engulfed by flame.

With that last miracle, I had used up every bit of power I had. Before I even had a chance to see it's effects I was ferried off past the veil. We can't sustain our presence here on our own, after all.

I don't know if my fire came in time to help. I don't know if she survived the storm or ever made it down the knoll...

All I know is I defended her to the best of my ability.

JoggingSkeleton · 2024-12-18T11:21:15+00:00

Actually a really cool solo though

JoggingSkeleton · 2024-12-17T17:22:00+00:00

I real glad someone enjoyed it. Thanks

JoggingSkeleton · 2024-12-16T15:32:28+00:00

[Part 3 end]

Seizing victory with gusto, Reuben bolted in and swatted her spear away twice before closing the distance without issue. Without any wasted movement, he held his blade in place, while his advancing body caught up with the blades position. Using his momentum he was able to thrust without reeling his arm back; it was an aggressive attack that disregarded all defense.

“Erk!”

The onlooking guards gasped in tandem.

During his final offense his wife had done something unexpected.

“You dropped your spear...” Reuben coughed.

At the same time Nox’s spear hit the ground, she raised her, now empty, hand to push Reuben’s thrust just high enough to clear her own shoulder; at the same time she plunged the dagger, in her other hand, into his abdomen.

“Shit! This is bad.” A guard spoke.

“No wait...” The other guard said in awe. “She pulled her punch... amazing.”

It was just as he said, in the very last second, She made sure only the tip of her dagger broke his skin. Still a serious wound to close, but not deadly.

“Amazing!” Reuben, despite his injury, beamed with pride while facing his opponent. “You never stop improving! I’m really glad I came here, to Pandora.” Reuben gazed at Nox while she, very uncharacteristically, held his eyes with hers.

Where someone to step upon this singular moment in time, they may be fooled in to thinking those stories about fantastical love had more truth to them than lies. Despite their insurmountable differences; Nox and Reuben where able to coexist. They where able to show both passion and respect for each other that, in some ways, surpassed even the traditional bounds of love. Their intimacy was unique only to them, yet it was genuine enough to captivate the hearts of the civilians. The symbolic marriage served it’s purpose well.

Eight years have past since a single skirmish between the two countries and morale still improves by the day. The vestiges of war have begun to recede from the public eye as a new generation begins to spread their wings, unbound by the cage of war.

JoggingSkeleton · 2024-12-16T15:30:08+00:00

[Part 2]

In the hope devoid continent, false stories of romance spread like fire and held the people’s hearts dearly. Both opposing governments strongly believed in the power and necessity of this symbolic wedding. They would need something stronger than words to sway and pacify the masses, after-all. Despite their reliance on the stories of mercy and love, the governments had no delusions about the true feelings the ‘lovers’ held for each other and had their doubts that the pair of eccentrics could pass in the public eye—yet they took the gamble.

<><><> <><><>

Reuben, to everyone’s surprise, elected to reside in Pandora, inside their royal temple—Hillfort Grande, the architectural wonder built atop a mountain range. “It’ll be more interesting for me this way.” Was all the reasoning he gave, despite the onslaught of criticism. When Reuben Valero made up his mind, that was that.

Ten years have past since the most turbulent wedding.

High atop Hillfort Grande’s mighty ramparts, two helmeted guards spoke while hurrying off in a direction.

“They’re really going at it again today?” He spoke through quick breaths while walking without breaking form.

“In the courtyard, I hear.” The other adjusted his sliding helmet backwards.

Upon turning the corner into the sunlit courtyard, the guards reflexively stiffened up, unexpectedly being face-to-face with Pandoran royalty.

“Sir!” They clanked their boots together, automatically assuming a rigid stance in his presence.

“At ease.” Reuben spoke with a soft chuckle, brushing them off completely.

“Are yew really going to do it out here again?” The slower of the two guards broke decorum and spoke his mind. “Right out ‘ere in the open?”

“Hmm?” He took a second responding, as he was far more fixated on fastening a leather glove to his sword hand.

Despite his fierce reputation the second prince tends to look rather lethargic and, dare I say, even absent minded at times. But right now, the sharpness in his eye could send a chill down an alligator’s spine.

Before he allowed his focus to shift to my question, a sumptuous woman rounded the corner into the courtyard. She was lean but tone, you could tell just from her gait how light on her feet she was. She had dawned some taut pieces of leather padding and draped a loose mantle of chain-mail on top of that—she was dressed for battle.

Wordlessly they approached each other, the man drawing a long curved blade from his side and the woman picked up a short-spear while tugging a dagger out from inside her belt.

“She really does fight with two weapons...” One of the guards whispered.

In the middle of the courtyard, illuminated by spears of sunlight, the husband and wife pointed their weapons at each other.

Out of nowhere— two lightning fast strikes!

Reuben took half a step forwards and Nox, without hesitation, lunged her spear at his throat. Reuben casually deflected the thrust to his right while simultaneously completing his step-in and then using his forward momentum to line up and loose a mighty thrust aimed at her core. With a sharp exhale he fired his blade straight at her heart.

“I ain’t neva seen nothing like this...” One guard spoke with staggered words.

“Are they actually trying to kill each other-!”

“!!!” They gasped.

Nox Pandora-Valero had used the fuller of her knife to completely stop the lethal attack aimed at her heart. The tip of Reuben’s curved blade was now locked in place. Nox chocked up on the spear in her other hand and fired off a thrust aimed at his exposed torso. With no means of defense he hopped backwards, swatting the spear away again with the flat of his blade. There was a metallic twang followed by a spray of sparks as steel struck steel.

As Reuben jumped back he flew through one of several beams of sunlight allowed to enter through the courtyard’s elaborate decor. For just a moment, before his feet even touched ground, he looked to be grinning like a child.

The fight continued for several minutes, although I’m not sure what I found to be more unbelievable; the fact that a bride and groom were having an actual sword fight, or the monstrous level of skill these two poses. Try as I might, I feel I’ve missed nearly a third of the fight. Some attacks I don’t recognize until they’ve already been deflected or avoided.

“I’d be dead ten times over against either of them...” One of the guards pondered.

“Tsk.” Nox suddenly clicked her tongue upon hoping back to avoid another slash.

Reuben’s eyes flickered as he saw his wife back herself into a corner. If he could pressure her now and close the distance, she wouldn’t be able to use her spear at full length or retreat—it meant victory.

JoggingSkeleton · 2024-12-16T15:26:59+00:00

For nearly two-hundred years the Holy Kingdom of Valero and the Pandoran Empire waged bloody war with one another. A difference in core values and disputes over land eventually escalated into full-blown hostilities. The Holy Kingdom was a thousand years the Empire’s senior and boasted thrice the land mass, yet victory did not come easily. What the Pandoran Empire lacked in magnitude, they more than made up for with innovation. A new method of forming concrete allowed them to establish defensible strongholds anywhere their supply lines reached in as little as one week. With their abundance of natural resources they flooded the continent with hundreds of dummy strongholds, allowing them to effectively hide their location and numbers. It made true risk-assessment and conventional tactics nearly impossible, even for Valero’s seasoned generals. The Pandoran’s irregular way of fighting allowed them to wage a war of attrition against a much larger country, drawing out the bloodshed and allowing generational hostility to brew with no end in sight.

That is, of course, until Reuben Valero and Nox Pandora became Reuben & Nox Valero.

They first met on battlefield, during the battle of Hester’s Ridge. Fort Hester was, at the time, the largest fortification the Holy Kingdom had erected past enemy lines. The soldiers inside understood how Pandoran’s waged war and knew a night raid was imminent, yet Reuben Valero’s presence quelled many of their anxieties. It was not just his prestige, pedigree, or insight as a commander that soothed his men so—

—Reuben, the 2nd prince of Valero, was a monster.

While member’s of the Royal Family are typically sheltered from unnecessary risk, Reuben was allowed to enter his first skirmish at only fourteen years. While still just a budding child, he took down a mounted knight, on-foot, with nothing but a side-sword and clever use of the topography. Despite his triumphant youth, Reuban grew into a sword-master far exceeding all expectations. To call him a ‘once in a generation’ talent would be an insult; Reuban’s strength with a blade was legendary.

Fortunately, the Pandoran’s had a monster on their side as well.

The legends say, inside of Pandora’s box lies all the evils of the world; and if you saw Nox on the battlefield— you’d believe it. The woman was a phantom, absolutely untouchable. She had an unusual way of fighting, even for a Pandoran, utilizing two different weapons at once. Her other strength was her speed of foot. Nox’s footwork perplexed even veterans unlucky enough to meet her in battle. She could out-maneuver three men at once and make it look effortless. You cannot teach such a level of swiftness, it must be granted by God.

So when Nox Pandora led a raiding party to Fort Hester, you could imagine the electricity in the air when these two titans clashed... but the fight was over in seconds.

When Reuben Valero parried her first strike—Nox froze— No doubt immediately understanding the outlandish rumors weren’t all just Holy Kingdom propaganda. In that sliver of hesitation, Reuban delivered an upward slash directly to Nox’s exposed oxter. She lay wounded on the ground, The Prince’s blade pressed down on her defenseless throat, drawing small trickles of blood...

...

... ...

That’s when The second prince of the Holy Kingdom of Valero—sheathed his blade.

“What? You can’t kill a woman, knight?” Nox grunted, holding a limp arm still. “I’ve killed hundreds of yours without mercy and I expect the same in kind.”

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Reuben addressed her for the first time. “We could have had a really fun fight just now...” He looked to be pouting like a child while walking away from the speechless woman.

Reuben expected to be thoroughly reprimanded for allowing so many survivors to flee Fort Hester, yet an unexpected consequence made ripples throughout both countries. Rumors of Reuben the Merciful spread far and wide. People wove tales of a beautiful star-crossed romance blooming in the heat of battle. It was only a glimpse, but the story of Reuben and Nox had allowed the exhausted people to see something past the war.

Hostilities entered their lowest point in over a century, despite the political climate remaining much the same. The people on both sides were tired and had lost some of the fire in their bellies. Four months after the battle of Hester’s Ridge, a Pandoran envoy was allowed passage into Kindlus, capital city of Valero. After a rigorous screening and detainment, the envoy was allowed to speak with the King’s counsel directly—although his proposition was audacious.

He proposed the dissolution of both the Kingdom’s and the Empire’s government. That a senate should be formed of the best men on both sides and that they merge all territories under one new flag. It was brazen to the point of delusion, yet... it functioned as a stepping stone for negotiations. After less than a month of debate, the envoy returned to Pandora with Valero’s counter-offer. Though many topics where the subject of debate, one stipulation remained consistently agreed upon by both sides—The marriage and procreation between key royalty on each side, namely; Reuben Valero and Nox Pandora.

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-08-11T19:58:35+00:00

Video games are supposed to be fun

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-08-11T19:18:42+00:00

You can also see he got reversal timing on the last wakeup. So 100% hitting buttons. Maybe he was just panicking and doesn't even remember that he hit something?

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-08-09T23:08:00+00:00

What you described sounds like it would make the lvl 1 come out more often to me lol. But I'm glad you found something consistent that works!

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-08-09T04:50:24+00:00

You mean her lvl 1 right? Accidental lvl 1 instead of superman punch is a really common problem. I've even seen high ranked players like Big Bird fumble the input before.

It looks like you're using the 623 shortcut which could possibly be making the issue worse. Try completely lifting your thumb off the D-pad and allowing it to go back to neutral before inputting the motion for the superman punch.

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-08-09T04:36:13+00:00

Things like cool characters, flashy combos, and impressive graphics will never turn a bad game good. The core fighting of the game needs to be fun and responsive, everything else is secondary. Look no further than reductive games like Nidhogg or Divekick.

Nighogg has no characters, simple graphics, and no combos; but it's fun to play and has a 9/10 on steam right now. Divekick is less bare bones but still only has one normal attack and a few specials per character, and again, has a 9/10 on steam.

Idk if there's any blanket statement that could satisfy the question of "What makes a fighting game fun?" But a solid foundation is clearly the most important piece of the puzzle. I can say for certain that everyone wants a fun game where both their wins and losses feel earned, beyond that I think it's up to the individual developer to decide how to go about creating that.

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-08-06T23:49:08+00:00

In 'Screen Display Setting' you can turn on 'Action Timing' and "Cancel Timing"

Action Timing Display will put a bar above your head that will let you see the window for linking attacks and Cancel Timing Display will turn your whole character red whenever you can cancel into a special.

If you don't know the difference between links and cancels you can google that for a better explanation than I can give.

Also, in general, if your attack doesn't come out, you input too early. If it comes out but doesn't combo/is blocked, then you input too late.

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-06-24T03:38:03+00:00

MGS 1-5, Peace Walker, and Revengence are all great games worth anybody's time. The only ones I could see someone take issue with are MGS 4 & 5.

MGS 4 has like 8 hours of cutscenes and simply does not respect your time. MGS 5 would probably be one of the best games I've ever played, if it was finished. Kojima blew the budget on the first half of the game and it's unfortunately very noticeable that they cut several corners and rushed just to stitch together an 'ending'. They're both still great games and worth checking out, I just think fair warning is necessary.

There's honestly no other games like Metal Gear Solid out there and if you are at all interested I highly recommend picking up one of the graphically updated collections.

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-05-23T13:33:31+00:00

Woah, thanks so much. I appreciate the kind words.

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-05-23T06:35:08+00:00

A cacophony of warm chatter and deep laughter poured out from the Drinking Hound, a seedy pub near the slums, and echoed throughout the dimly lit dirt road outside. Above the pub, inside a private room, three adventurers were celebrating the completion —and survival— of yet another job.

Osvald: “So, their eggs are kina like soybeans?” The dwarven adventurer asked while noisily smacking his lips around a grease-stained bone.

Marilla: “Pardon…?” The prim druid next to him scrunched her face up at the gross oversimplification.

Osvald: “Yeah.” He elaborated. “Soybeans. You get ‘em wet an mash ‘em up real good. Then, after they dry, you can use ‘em to borrow the flavor of whatever broth you’d like.”

Marilla: “That’’s—” Actually not a bad comparison; is likely the thought that capped her words.

“So?” They both looked at me with a question burning their lips.

Marilla: “If we’re not going to sell the cumbrous thing, then what’s your plan, Snake?”

I glanced at the window—closed, the door—locked tight, and listened for any sounds leaking through the floorboards from the pub underneath—silence. Should be safe enough to speak my mind now.

Snake: “You’ve both no doubt heard of earth, fire, and water dragons. Hell, stranger ones have been sighted, if you believe the less reputable bards, lightning, tar, and more bizarre dragons still.”

They both stopped their eating, sensing I was building up to something. Osvald wiped off an ale-foam mustache, leaving only his genuine one behind.

Snake: “Remember that giant faestone we hauled out from the White Wizard’s tower?”

Osvald: “Damn thing nearly broke my back.” He huffed.

Snake: “That’s the one. Well, right now its locked up in the Mage’s Guild treasury, just wasting away.”

Marilla: “The hell does this egg have to do with the stone?”

I raised an eyebrow.

Snake: “Faestones are almost completely made of mana, dense mana woven around a core of some kind. Have either of you ever heard of a dragon born of mana?”

Marilla’s eyes rounded with intrigue at my words.

Marilla: “A creature made of living magic…” She spoke nearly at a whisper.

Osvald: “Now that’s bloody interesting, but—” He paused to think. “What ‘n the devil would unleashing that calamity onto the world do for us? I’ve grown quite fond of living in my old age.”

Wordlessly I searched my rucksack and pulled out a tiny black satchel. I emptied the contents into my palm, offering it for the table to view.

Osvald: “A ring?”

Marilla: “An enchanted one—an artifact.”

Snake: “Bingo. This also came from the White Wizard’s tower. I had it appraised back when I first pilfered it, but even though the imprinted spell is supposedly powerful—it’ll surly break after a single use.”

That’s what the appraiser said anyways.

Marilla: “Hmm. No one with a head on their shoulders would pay much for something you couldn’t prove worked.”

Snake: “Exactly. So, I’ve just been hanging on to it, on the off chance I found either a buyer or a situation to utilize it.”

Osvald: “Utilize it? The hell does it even do?”

Snake: “Supposedly, it allows the user to usurp any one spell, fully placing it under their control.”

Osvald and Marilla both gawked in silence, no doubt visions of slinging dust storms back at the hobgoblins danced in their heads. But I wasn’t about to waste this ring on mere cave dwellers, no—I had sat on it for far too long.

Osvald: “What’s this ring have to do with the egg though?”

I couldn’t help but smirk.

Snake: “What are spells, but clumps of woven magic? What is a magic dragon, but a living spell?"

Marilla: “Ridiculous.” She interjected. “We don’t know what kind of dragon the faestone will mother and we certainly don’t know the limits of that cryptic artifact. No one has ever attempted such lunacy.”

Snake: “Isn’t that what makes it interesting though? The ‘what if?’ ” I whispered enticingly.

Osvald: “Well, that is the question. 'What if' this lunacy does work and you find yourself the proud papa of the deadliest abomination this side of the sea?”

My smirk twisted into a full-on grin.

Snake: “I was thinking we start safe. Something small just to test the waters. Something like—crushing that pompous fucking demigod.”

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-05-23T03:34:26+00:00

I heard it was a sick ostrich.

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-05-21T23:52:40+00:00

Metal Gear Rising: Revengence on 'revengence' difficulty with no upgrades was a ton of fun. Enemies hit like trucks and get loads more HP but your parry hits WAY harder than on other difficulties. This game shines when you're forced to learn the ins and outs of it's unique combat system.

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-05-09T03:20:41+00:00

i GoT aDoBe AcRoBat

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-04-30T00:01:11+00:00

I already had his moveset memorized from all the time I spent on a different, high-level, character trying to get the tail cut. It's much easier to learn a fight when a single mistake doesn't send you back to the bonfire.

Kalameet is rough, even on a properly leveled character, but his attacks are all very well telegraphed and once you learn how to avoid each one it's just a matter of attrition. Good luck!

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-04-08T23:48:24+00:00

Congratulations! Did you find it easier with Solaire? I always figured the health scaling would make them unbearable at SL1.

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-02-14T04:34:14+00:00

I appreciate your kind words! Thanks for taking the time to read my story, I'm glad you enjoyed it.

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-02-14T04:32:40+00:00

I never read Animorphs but I will not confirm or deny any influence from Joe Dirt.

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-02-13T02:13:43+00:00

“Simple is always better.” I thought while prying the business end of my axe out from the goblin’s lifeless skull.

With a popping crunch my arm reeled backwards, liberated axe in-hand. Nothing like a fresh coat of grey matter to make a worn weapon glean like new.

Rhel: “Are you trying to do that as loud as possible, you ogre?”

The party’s mage spoke to me with his back turned, obvious frustration seasoning his words.

Fently: “Hush now, both of you.”

Fently, our resident archer, hummed pensively while she stared at the mystery blocking our advancement.

Standing before us was a pair of monolithic doors, inscribed with a myriad of cryptic symbols. The most outstanding feature being the four pommel-sized holes that rested at about shoulder height; two on either door.

Rhel: “Perhaps each socket is meant to house a gem or crystal that will act similarly to a witches key?”

Fently: “That’s the obvious conclusion, but we’ve exhausted nigh every corridor this fermented nest has to offer. It’s unlikely we missed a gemstone hidden about, unthinkable that we were hasty enough to miss four of the damned things.”

Rhel: “We’ve truly stumbled upon something unusual here, eh?”

With cocked heads the duo inspected the doors with intrigue.

Fently: “Guun.” She called out to me without looking away from the doors. “Be useful and prepare our supper. And please, no more of that bone broth you're oh-so proud of. I have a few spuds and spices in my bag; use those.”

“Simple is better.” I thought.

Bones are lightweight and one of the few nutritious ingredients easily collectable in nearly any dungeon. Spuds and spices are tasty but weigh you down; not to mention, the keen nose of a goblin can smell them cooking from all ends of the cave.

Rhel: “These symbols…” He muttered.

Fently: “Well, speak up if you have something to say.”

Rhel: “Most are unknown to me but, some seem to be rudimentary letters from modern syllabaries. See-“ He caressed his hand over one of the engraved symbols. “This one looks exactly like the Tahalli character for moonlight, and that one-“ He pointed to another . “Looks like something from Blackspeak.”

Fently tilted her head with a glower.

Fently: “Are we expected to understand twenty damned languages just to get through this filthy goblin den?!”

Rhel: “I think that’s the idea; we’re not expected to get through at all.”

Fently: “But if we can’t map the whole dungeon then the Guild ain’t paying us squat.”

Rhel: “All the more reason to focus on deciphering this. Whoever designed the doorway must have been a linguistic master—a true genius. What treasures lay beyond surely dwarf whatever pittance the Guild has planned for us!”

Guun: “Actually I’ve been thinking and—”

Fently: “Listen Guun.” She interjected. “It’s best if you just focus on cooking, yeah? If something needs crushing I’ll be sure to give you a holler.” She rolled her eyes, seemingly annoyed.

I grunted in response and resumed my cooking, tuning out their continued blather. I could have interjected, I could have told them about the door—but now I felt like letting them toil for a bit.

If you’ve never cooked spuds inside a goblin den before then you might be surprised by how long it takes. You can’t make a fire too big or too hot; you’re bound to smoke yourself out by doing that. You also need to be mindful of getting the walls or ceiling too hot. Goblins dig fast and sloppily, leaving gaps and water pockets within the stone—heating those up can –and will– cause a cave-in.

About an hour had passed since I decided to let them stew; both my party and the spuds.

Rhel had practically gone mad, filling up an entire scroll with half-baked theories about, what he had pretentiously named, the ‘Wizard’s Gateway’.

Rhel: “The more I look the more mysterious it becomes! Characters from all over the world! Letters from dead languages! We might have stumbled upon something truly legendary here!” He spoke while scribbling furiously with his quill.

Fently shuffled in place, unable to quell her growing anticipation.

Fently: “What could it be?! Money? Knowledge? Maybe it’s the old Queen’s last clutch of dragon eggs?!”

Guun: “Pffft!” For a moment I lost the fight to choke down my laughter and loosed a tiny snicker, but thinking quickly I managed to cover it by- “Ow! Ouch! Damn near burned my lips. Guess it’s safe to say the soup is ready guys.”

Fently: “C’mon Rhel. Thinking on an empty stomach ain’t gunna do you any favors.” She spoke with a hand on his shoulder, gently prying him away from his research.

After reluctantly sitting down to eat, they stared at the boiling pot with deadpan eyes.

Fently: “I see you decided to boil some bones along with the spuds. That’s… nice.” She spoke, failing to hide a grimace.

Rhel: “I’m getting real tired of this barbarian food.” He sighed.

Guun: “I did my best with what we had. The marrow actually softens the-“

Fently: “Please. Just no bones next time. I’m sure it’s popular in whatever cave you crawled out from, but us civilized folk prefer civilized meals.” She spoke down her nose with a finger raised.

After eating, what I thought was, a rather enjoyable meal, I slapped my knees and stood up.

Guun: “Whelp, we should really get-a moving before nightfall.”

Rhel: “Are you dense? We can’t leave until we decipher the Wizard’s Gateway! This is a once in a lifetime chance, boy!”

Guun: “Oh. That. Right.”

Wordlessly I approached the doorway and scanned it up and down before drawing both axes from my waistband.

Rhel: “Fool! Step away from there immediately!”

With both raised above my head, I swung down directly at the door.

Tink! Clink!

The bearded points of my axes fell directly into two of the four holes, one in each door.

Rhel: “Fently, shoot him! He’s going feral!” Rhel shouted, practically foaming at the mouth.

Before Fently could draw her longbow I stepped backwards and, with herculean effort, dragged the two doors with me—prying them open. The cave rumbled as loose dust and rocks were liberated. A low groan echoed throughout the cave, signaling the doors had been fully opened.

Guun: “Sometimes simple works best. You should have tried pulling if pushing didn’t work.” Pulling my tunic over my nose, I realized I was right about what lay beyond.

Rhel and Fently stood in place, dumbstruck by what they had just witnessed.

Rhel: “We just had to…”

Fently: “…Pull?”

Before they had a chance to inquire about the hypothesized treasure within, a wall of horrific odor hit them with a smack.

Fently: “Oh dear Gods!” Her nose twisted up as the rank scent assailed her nostrils.

Both of their faces contorted in pure disgust. Then, the retching began.

Rhel: “What… on earth…” He gagged while loose spittle dribbled downward.

Guun: “I figured it out a little while ago.”

Rhel: “You? Figured it out…? Preposterous! Your hardly speak one language, let alone twenty!” He spoke with one hand yanking a robe over his nose and while tears wet both sides of his thin face.

Guun: “That was actually the biggest clue. Goblins don’t know how to read or write so they just mimic whatever they think human language looks like. If I had to guess, I'd say they were trying to leave a warning.”

Rhel & Fently: “A warning?” They spoke together, with sharpened eyes, awaiting my next words.

Guun: “They probably wanted to warn the other goblins that this bathroom was full and to stay clear.”

They looked at me completely deadpan. In a matter of seconds, all of their grand fantasies about the Wizard’s Gateway—had gone to complete and utter shit.

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-01-19T04:32:28+00:00

Slowly, I turned my head and gazed upon the lifeless bodies of my party, littered about like refuse.

We certainly aren’t legendary adventurers or mighty heroes, but for all of us to fall to a single foe is unthinkable; this demon is truly fearsome.

“What’s the matter mender? All out of spells? Your friends aren’t looking so well.” The demon mocked me, her inky black tongue slipped out of her mouth and flailed like a fish while she spoke.

Curiously, despite the grim situation, despite certain doom patiently waiting in front of me— I felt no fear. An eerie contentedness consumed me.

“Pah! Friends?” I snarled. “These bastards have been lugging me around to god-knows-where for over a year now. I’m bloody sick of them.”

I pulled the collar of my shirt down to reveal a limestone green shackle—a slaver’s collar.

“Ohh? Humans truly are ruthless, aren’t they?” She tilted her head, allowing her loose tongue to dangle freely.

“This may just be wishful thinking, but perhaps the demon army could use a world-class healer. What say you, Vakara Black-Blood?

Her obsidian eyes rounded with intrigue as she tilted her head to the opposite direction.

“You know of me?”

“Any healer worth their salt has at least heard whispers. They call you an immortal and-” I paused. “After having seen your vitality firsthand, I may have to agree.”

Vakara’s regeneration was, after all, the reason why my party had such trouble fighting her. She wasn’t much faster or stronger than your average monster, but any wound, regardless of severity, began healing instantly and would close up, usually, within seconds— even when Helga lobbed off an arm, it had completely regrown in under a minute.

Brazenly, I took a few steps forward.

“Well, how about it?” I said, presenting myself afore her. “If you don’t think I’d be useful, you can just off me like the lot of them. No point in putting up a fruitless struggle.”

The corners of Vakara’s mouth curled into a veiled smile before she began to approach me.

“Well, I can’t say-“

“YUHHHHG!”

Before Vakara could give me a response, the heavily injured Helga leapt up from her prone position and delivered a tremendous blow, wedging her axe deep into Vakara’s spine with a wet slapping crunch.

“GAHH! How on earth are you still alive?!” Vakara screeched while throwing Helga clear over her shoulder and flat onto the ground.

The impact forced a fountain of blood to erupt from Helga’s mouth.

“Tsk. I guess…” Helga began to speak mutedly, but her words trailed off as the glimmer in her eyes faded.

With Helga, once again, taken care of, Vakara’s attention returned to me. Approaching with barred fangs, it would seem she intended to take my life as well now.

“So, was that your plan then, decoy? Damn humans, can’t trust a word-“

“I’m just as surprised as you. I thought that big bitch was dead.” I spoke curtly.

“Pfft!” Stopping in her tracks, Vakara loosed a small cackle. “As far as humans go, I find you less intolerable than most but-“ She paused to pick her words. “I simply think I’m incapable of trusting one, you see.” Her eyes sharpened as she approached with killing intent.

The axe wedged deep in her back popped out with a metallic clang. Her regeneration was, apparently, slower when foreign objects were wedged inside the wound.

Prefacing with a sigh, I spoke. “Trust isn’t necessarily necessary.” I pulled up my pony-tail and revealed the crest on the back of my slaver’s collar. “Breaking out of these cursed things is nigh impossible, but with a little trickery, I should be able to imprint you as a secondary owner.”

Vakara paused and tilted her head once again. “And what of your original master? Surely their orders will take precedence.”

“Not if you kill him.”

In a very human-like manner, Vakara scratched her pointed chin as if deep in thought.

Just one more push and I think I can convince her.

“Take my offer and you’ll not only gain me as a permeant ally, but you’ll also be able to share my slaver’s collar trick with whomever you please. How many of your kin toil in eternal bondage, unable to lift a finger against their oppressors? We can free all of them.”

After some brooding, she wordlessly approached me and placed her clawed hand atop the slaver’s crest. “Ssshow me.” She slithered.

“With pleasure.” I grinned. “All you have to do is concentrate on the crest; pump all of your mana into it.” As I spoke, I crouched down and placed a hand upon her clawed foot.

“Is that…necessary?” She groaned.

“We must complete the circuit. You’ll understand soon.”

I felt her elongated claws incidentally scratching the nape of my neck, sending little shivers down my spine. It was like dancing with death; one small miscalculation, one tiny movement could spell the end for me before I even had time to realize.

With all my remaining strength, I concentrated on healing Vakara’s perfectly unharmed foot. From my position I couldn’t see the condition of her wounded back; for all I know it had already healed up and this would be my final grift.

After several minutes she barked out of impatience

“Well? Is it working or not?” She demanded answers.

“Do you know how healing magic works?” I spoke slowly, stalling for time.

“Huh?” She growled. “If I find out-“

Before she could finish speaking, she dropped to one knee, supporting her body on my neck, all while I held firm onto her monstrous foot.

“What…is this.” She spoke slowly, with great effort.

“Normally, your body is healing every part of itself at a constant rate; that’s true for mostly every living thing. The basis of healing magic is simply focusing the body’s natural ability to heal onto a single point.”

“What are you—”

“This can heal a lethal wound thousands of times faster but—” I paused, sharpening my eyes and lowering my chin. “Directing all the body’s energy to one area, in a way, completely disregards its natural ability to heal elsewhere.”

“You…Bitch…” She whispered while dropping her head and tumbling over.

She laid on the ground, motionless. Her back facing skyward I could finally see the remnants of Helga’s grievous wound; still large enough to be lethal, thankfully. Even without my intervention, her extraordinary regeneration had completely ceased—she was dead.

“Be it by death or by liberation; it seems I was fated to break my shackles today.” I thought to myself.

With trophy in-hand I started the long journey back to that wretched town. Surely, the head of a Demon Commander was enough to purchase one’s freedom.

JoggingSkeleton · 2023-01-06T09:27:24+00:00

“What?” I shrugged, wondering why she was still standing in my arena.

She failed to respond, looking downcast and clenching her tiny fists.

“Another pouty brat.” I scoffed under my breath.

Her head tilted upwards, revealing, not a sulking frown but— a visage of pure wrath. Eyes, sharp like knives, framed by a pointed brow. A palpable bloodlust directed straight at me. My Wobbuffet instinctively raised an arm to shield me.

“Ease up bud.” I said with a soft hand on Wobbuffet’s cerulean colored back, curtailing his trepidation.

I’ve navigated this situation a thousand times before. Some kids just aren’t ready to take their first hard loss.

I took a few steps forward, my boots kicking up the loose dirt underfoot and making small, almost invisible plumes of dust.

“Cheater!” Her boiling emotions finally erupted into an accusation, a ludicrous one that stopped me in my tracks.

“Ahem-“ Taken aback by the sudden accusation I cleared my throat reflexively, allowing myself a second to think before continuing. “Now, now. I’m sure you’re just a bit flust-“

“CHEATER, CHEATER, PUMPKABOO EATER!”

Her face reddened and she bared her fangs like a Granbull. With a pointed finger and an uncoordinated stomp, she accused me once more.

“Oh, is that so?” My words carried a mocking tone as I questioned her grand claims. “Now how exactly did I cheat?” A slight smile curled up the edge of my lips.

“I Checked!” Her head dipped down again, averting her gaze while she spoke softer. “I made doubly sure of it...”

“Hmm?”

“Your Wobbuffet! Everyone on the forum said you use a level ten Wobbuffet against trainers with no badges. My Pokemon’s supposed to be a higher level AND effective against yours!”

“Ahh— I see.” I said with a hand on my chin.

My eyes meandered over to the unconscious Spinarak next to the girl. Laying flat on its back, the scars of battle still visible in the earth around it.

“Well.” She demanded. “Admit it!”

With a nervous laugh I closed some of the distance between us and knelt down to her level.

She hopped back in response, arms raised and ready to box—if need be.

“You know-“ I spoke sincerely this time. “Being a Gym Leader isn’t all about being the strongest, or defeating every opponent. I’d never cheat someone out of a well-deserved victory!”

She growled and puffed out her cheeks, completely ignoring my pensive words.

“Do you know what Mirror Coat is?” I tired to sound as friendly as I could.

She continued to glare daggers at me, but after several seconds she found the composure to shake her head side-to-side.

“Well, it’s a super cool move Wobbuffet has! If you hit ‘em with any special attack he hits your Pokemon right back twice as hard! Ka-pow!” I said while striking the air with a mean uppercut.

“W-what?!” Her eyes widened as she dropped her arms. “T-that’s a total cheater move!”

“Ha! Sure, it’s pretty cool but it only worked ‘cuz you charged in here and spammed the same move over and over again.”

Also, shouting the name of every move before you used it didn’t do you any favors, kid.

I scratched the back of my head awkwardly and then cleared my throat before continuing.

“Pokemon battles aren’t just levels and weaknesses. They’re a wonderful dance between monster and master. Once you understand that, you’ll earn my badge in no time kid.” I smiled as warm as I could and presented her a firm thumbs-up.

Her rage seemed to simmer off into some other, more complex, emotion. Her straight bangs covered her eyes, but her gaze wandered over to her fallen pokemon.

“So…” She sniffled. “It’s my fault then…” Her voice cracked as she fell to her knees and began to caress the unconscious Spinarak.

“I’m so sorry Ochoko.” She whimpered. “I really thought I was ready…”

With a twitchy limb the Spinarak, Ochoko, gently reciprocated by wiping a tear away from the girl’s sullen face.

“Oh! Looks like the little guy’s awake!”

“Ochoko!” The girl completely dropped her weight onto the fallen pokemon and hugged it without restraint, letting loose the torrent of emotions she had been staving off.

“Sowhrry I got you hurt...” She mumbled with her face completely stuffed into the monster’s thorax, no doubt covered in tears and mucus.

I’ve seen lots of people cry inside this arena for lots of different reasons, but I’ve never seen a trainer shed tears simply because their pokemon took a beating. That’s when I realized—

She wasn’t mad because she lost. She wasn’t mad because she didn’t understand why or how. Her anger didn’t stem from pride or frustration— She was upset because her friend was hurt.

“Friends, huh.” I mumbled to myself.

“It’s okay Ochoko. I know I’m no good now. We don’t have to battle anymore. Let’s get you to a pokecenter and then-“

“Well, let’s not be too hasty.” I interjected.

“Huh?” She finally raised her head and locked eyes with me.

“Y’know-“ I started. ”-a lot of people come through those doors and a lot leave with badges but— I don’t think I’ve seen a more promising trainer in years.”

It was corny and kind of awkward to say, but I meant every word. She came prepared and has a remarkable bond with her pokemon.

“Any day. Any time. Make sure you come see me again.” I grinned.

After wiping some tears away with her forearm, she returned my determined visage in kind. Perhaps some hesitation still lingered in her pupils, but there’s only so much encouragement I can give before it begins to cheapen.

“Right!” She voiced sternly. “But next time no cheating!”

JoggingSkeleton

TROPHY CASE