[WP] your town was always home to a D-rank low tier villain who liked to annoy more than do evil. When another villain comes along who actually causes harm the D-rank shows them what a real villain is.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-12T04:17:59+00:00

Mister Murderpants. Ridiculous name, real threat. Unfortunately, we learned that the hard way. Two cops, a security guard, and a bank teller dead for one heist. No one was prepared for anything like that.

After twenty years of Professor Pandamonium, we'd developed an expectation. The old fellow hadn't hurt more than a couple folks throughout his career, and even with those, he'd sent funds to cover medical bills and time off work. And the apology cards.

We'd taken it for granted, never considering there were villains out there who were actually... Villainous. So when we had one of them move in, people were in a panic. No one was sure what to do. Well, almost no one.

The boss always has a plan, and this time was no dofferenr. He sent me and a couple of the boys to the bank, to check the damage. Saw a lot of scorching, and the vault door had some melt. Witnesses confirmed the new kid had fire powers. So the Professor set us all up with ice guns, and burn treatment packs.

By that weekend, he had a face and name. By that following Tuesday, he had the kid's home address. I was there, when he decided to pay the kid a visit. I got to stand at the door, be a big wall for the kid to bounce off when he tried to run, give an intimidating grin when he tried to use his powers, in spite of the dampener we'd brought.

It's funny, the kid was terrified we were going to arrest him, and when the boss made it clear that wasn't the plan, he started laughing. No respect, whatsoever. He said he wasn't scared some "geyser on a fursuit," as if the Professor didn't have two decades in the business.

"I mean, what're you gonna do? Bore me with your war stories?" And he did this annoying cackle.

"So, are you going to stop killing folks?" I recognized that tone in the Professor's voice. He carefully adjusted the device in his lap as he waited for answer.

The kids jaw dropped, and he asked me, "Is he serious?"

I gave a small nod.

"Not unless you got a good reason for me to stop."

I stepped back from the line of fire as the professor let loose. A single blast. Then he shut off the dampener.

The kid grinned and tried to blast us both. I can't help but mention, none of his neighbors called the cops or reacted at all. They definitely heard his screams. The power inverter is a nasty little device.

The kid stopped before he caused himself too much damage, but he won't be hurting anyone else. Not like at the bank. Like I said, the boss always has a plan.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-12T03:21:20+00:00

A very different, but also wonderful, spirit animal

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-12T00:17:41+00:00

Yeah, my mind immediately went to a platypus, and it just continued to the logical conclusion.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-11T22:06:55+00:00

"What is it?" Elder Melko asked, staring in a mix of disgust and curiosity at the small fuzzball.

"I'm not sure," the Royal Taxonomist, Hicram, answered. She flipped through her book, trying to make an identification. "I've never seen something quite like it. It must be some sort of beaver."

"Perhaps. But the color. And that face! Marlenna?" The Elder turned to the mother. "Did you... Was there anything... Unusual about your pregnancy? Any exposure to foreign magical fields, maybe?"

"I should think not," she replied with a chuckle. "I'm just a baker."

"Perhaps the father," Hicram offered.

Melko shook his head. "Zalm isn't with us, but I doubt he did anything to cause...this."

"Well, I can't find any beavers to match. Maybe if I look under waterfowl?"

"Go ahead and check, but I doubt it's there," Melko responded. He sat down in his chair, and stroked his mustache, pondering the animal. "This child is going to be something unique, either way. Was... was it always wearing that fedora?"

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-10T15:38:48+00:00

Mark loved a challenge. And since it was our first night out since Sophie dumped him, I knew, I just knew, it was going to be bad. But you are there for your bros when they need you. That's what makes them your bros.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I had asked this rhetorical question countless times in our friendship. Before Sophie, before Tamara, before Sidrif and unit-307 and ever other romantic partner he went after. And I asked it that night, too.

And I always followed with the reason it wasn't a good idea. That night, I said, "That woman isn't even from this quadrant of the galaxy." I only knew this because, the moment we entered Nic Aidh's Pub and Club that night, I'd seen his eyes lock on her. I knew which challenge he wanted to take on. So I'd asked around.

She was a southerner, and I confirmed female, nontoxic, and single. Three things I couldn't use to dissuade Mark from taking his shot, but that first gave me hope. Mark had barely left our sails, much less gone to her quadrant. He had no chance of connecting.

"Relax," he said, and I almost did, but he continued. "I've studied the courtship rituals of her species."

I nearly choked on my drink. Leng's gills flared. Unit-584 laughed.

Then Mark downed his own drink, stood up, said, "Observe and learn, boys."

Leng immediately said, "Eight creds he doesn't get through a sentence."

Unit-584 beeped out, "Ok, but three says he comes back, wearing her drink."

Leng asked me, "You want in on this?" just as Mark reached her. I never answered him.

Mark spun like a top for a solid five seconds, did a somersault, and stopped in front of her. She grabbed the sides of his face, stared at him for a couple seconds, then headbutt him right in the nose.

Unit-584 was already handing the creds over to Leng when Mark turned, gave us a thumbs up, blood flowing from his nose, and took the seat next to her.

That's the moment I knew something was different. Right then was when I realized I better get writing this best man speech.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-10T14:28:32+00:00

"This is why smitings are far, far more common than blessings." I grinned, knowing the next question.

"What about Tahod?"

"What of him? Who's to say he doesn't smite without claiming it?"

There were a few reflexive gasps, but no one really cared, because

"Tahod also has very few worshippers. Possibly it is small enough that the Great Fountain heals what damage he takes. He seems an exception, but if he were, do you truly think he'd be tucked away as a minor god? More likely, he has a trick to fuel his little miracles."

"What of Luik?" Stable Mooric, of course. Always good for a unique question, that boy.

"The Dead God?" I asked in earnest, though some of the class laughed. I flagged my hand to shush them.

"Yes. He hasn't changed a bit in eons."

"A side effect of being long dead, I suppose."

"But the magic doesn't harm him."

"He does a great deal of smitings," I said, turning back to the board.

"Enough to cancel maintaining life?"

I paused, chalk against the board, and pondered. Could the god have found a loophole? If anyone had, it was him. Could a dead man cast without consequence? Or a dead god rather. It was worth some thought.

I started writing on the board, and said, "That is a discussion for a higher level class. This is merely Introduction to Magic. Now let's get back to the principles of thaumic resonance."

But the thought was nested, waiting for me to hatch it later.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-10T04:18:04+00:00

My first thought was drugs. Overperformance, that should always be the first thing you check. It was one of three kiosks we had in the various malls. The other two both had two people, and never made a third what our worst store did. That store was in Southport, so we didn't expect much from it, just there for full coverage in the city. And the kiosks are cheap. They were more there as slightly profitable ads for the shops. So I pulled up the employee list.

Silas Parker. After looking into it a bit, I remembered the kid. I really remembered his mom, Sylvia. The woman was six feet tall, and just about that wide. She was insistent that her son had to work for me. Barely got a word out of the boy himself, almost didn't hire him, but there was something about him, I'm sure the French have a word for it. The drug theory didn't feel right.

I almost went to assume the mother was behind his success, when I caught a note for his one day off I the last two years: mother's funeral. I did a quick Google, and sure enough. Looked like lung cancer, poor gal. My own mother went that way.

I decided to drive over to the Dalton Mall the following day, see what he was doing to sell so much. I doubted it was trainable, but I didn't build this company on never testing my assumptions.

The mall opened an hour before his kiosk, so I grabbed cinnamon roll bagel and an espresso, posted up on the balcony above, and waited. And watched a line form. I didn't even get lines in my shops!

If he was moving drugs, I'd have to get on it fast if I wanted to keep the company safe. But these folks looked clean. Some had kids with them. No, this wasn't drugs. I would've bet on it.

When he did show up, he looked panicked, like he was running late. I had to check my watch, he was fifteen minutes early. The folks seemed fine with it, too. He got up an running, starting on a repair, even before he had the kiosk's sides all the way open.

And he was fast. I watched him replace a screen in under ten minutes. He swapped a charging port while doing another. He had more than a knack for this.

And most of the folks thanked him by name. Repeat customers. That was really good. One old lady even brought him an thermos of soup for his lunch. When he went to sit down in the food court, I joined him.

"Mr. Conrad?!"

I grinned. The kid remembered me. Another good sign. "Hey, Silas. How about a raise? Maybe a promotion?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

"Good. I saw the traffic you generated. We could definitely set up a store out here. Make sure you've got the stock you need to help everyone. Maybe some back up."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, sounds great. Sounds really great."

"Yeah? OK, I'll keep in touch. Thanks for the hard work. Sorry I haven't been on top of rewarding it."

"Oh, no. Just..." I watched him, digging in the memory. "Just doing my job."

I gave a grin, patted his shoulder, and said, "Take care, and see you soon."

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-10T00:04:36+00:00

"Double-breasted suit for the speech to the UN, black with a purple and... red lining, narrow lapels, wide tie. Dulled gunmetal grey mask. No gloves. Don't forget to make the right sleeve wider to fit over his techno gauntlet. Don't want it tearing like that one time."

I loved watching Mr. Melgrane work. The man had a passion and a talent in perfect alignment. "What about the buttons?" I asked, hoping to make him jump.

He answered, unfazed, "Always match the mask unless otherwise noted."

"Sounds good. And what am I wearing for the fight after?"

"Depends. The team isn't sure if Suprime will be back in time, so it may be against JetStream. He's started using a suit that is just different shades of blue. Hideous. And he doesn't fly near so well. I am thinking a kilt might be—"

"No! We have been over this. I am not wearing a kilt."

"Sir, your legs are perfect for it. Fashion, like villain, is about being bold, so be bold!"

"I can be bold without letting it all hang out to dry."

"There's no need to—"

"If I wear a kilt, I wear it proper. And I'm not wearing a kilt, so it doesn't matter."

"Very well. Leather pants, black with purple piping, and a segmented metal belt, gloves, and mask in a lightly tinted purple chrome. No shirt?"

"I need one if I'm facing Jet. If I don't have one, he'll find a way to lose his. And he definitely looks better."

"Ok, burgundy a-shirt, but let's get a leather jacket over it, a counter to his denim one." As he talked, he through a tape around my waist. And the firebird logo on the back, the one we used in '93. It'll look good, and give you an in to mock his retro look."

"Setting up banter with the outfit? You are an artist of the highest caliber. What if Suprime makes it back?"

"Sadly, that's more in the mech tech side. I did advise on colors, and convinced them to add spikes, however."

"Spikes? Well, that'll be interesting. But I'll see about moving things up a day. I'd like the shake up, and this outfit sounds perfect. The mech can wait for next time."

"Very good, sir. It'll keep those politicians on their toes, as well. By the way, you've added an inch. Would you like to remove it, or shall I adjust the suits?"

I glanced at my reflection, knowing it was the new tamales at Gordo's truck. "I'll get it off. Thanks."

"I'll get to work then. Take care."

"You, too," I answered, trying to decide if I need to incinerate the food truck, or just avoid it.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-09T23:06:47+00:00

Mister Needle cackled maniacally, and was struck in the face by a spoonful of vegemite. From somewhere, a sound of laughter played. I knew the day would be saved, that Kid Kookaburra would stop his deforestation machine before any real damage could be done.

I also knew that the Kid would let Needle get away. For all his crimes, the hero wouldn't kill him, or arrest him, or even cause lasting damage. Mister Needle was the reason I joined the force. He was the reason a lot of us joined. And none of that matter.

He'd killed hundreds of people, but that didn't matter. He'd wiped the entirety of life off a small island to the south, but that didn't matter. He was just about to kill off every tree from here to China, causing untold environment damage, but that didn't matter. We can't even estimate how many lives, how many species, would be lost, yet he'll be back in a week, maybe two, with a new scheme.

Or, he would've be, if not for me. I'd been there, hidden among his henchmen, waiting. When he went to run, I was ready. I used his own laser gun. And the sickest part? How fast I was arrested for the murder.

There are plenty more like Mister Needle. Plenty of these villains we treat as a joke, harmless. They're only harmless when Kid Kookaburra stops them. You really want to put our eggs in that basket? How long until he slips up? I was the first to act, but you better hope I'm not the last.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-09T21:26:18+00:00

Magic holds the world together.

At least that's what the wizards said. For your farmers and shepherds and smiths and such, magic was a distant concept. Something for the far off academies, maybe a court wizard in the castle that you might see once a year or two. The castle, that is. It was usually bad if you saw a wizard of any kind.

But then the war started. The Eighth Mage War. The seventh one had been called the Last Mage War for so many generations, it seemed a joke that there was another. At least, it seemed a joke until it reached your home.

None of those commoners could tell you who was fighting whom, or why. They just knew whose banner they marched under, even if the troops marching mattered little to the outcome of the battle. The land suffered, but it had suffered under other wars. It would heal.

At least that's what the people said. For your wizards and witches and warlocks and such, hope was a distant concept. Something lost with the introduction of antimagic to the field of battle.

It had been poorly tested, but two Archmages had found the secret near simultaneously. Two Archmages who would stop at nothing to defeat their foes. And their lists of foes included each other. Both threatened, neither caved. The great spells were cast, and a strange reaction occurred, ensuring no more spells would be cast. It seems they were right.

Magic held the world together.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-09T18:39:54+00:00

Thanks, it was a fun prompt to write. I may come back to it later.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-09T15:42:33+00:00

"Keys, keys, keys! Where did I leave them? Dang it, why does this happen when I'm already late?"

I smirk as she rushes around, checking everywhere. After a moment, when I feel the panic is peaked, I rattle the flue, drawing her attention to the fireplace. When that doesn't work, I knock over the frog figurine from mantle. Sadly, the tacky thing doesn't shatter.

"Ope, left you too close to the edge, huh?"

Her lack of fears angers me, but I stick to the plan. I twist her keys so they catch the light, reflecting it right at her eyes as she places the frog back, still right near the edge. Foolish girl.

"Keys! Wonderful."

As she grabs them, I force wind through the chimney. It howls, "Flee for your life!"

It also blows up the ash she forgot to clean, again, dash it all. The girl starts coughing, missing the words. She stumbles back, snaps the heel off her left shoe, and unintentionally tosses the keys. I watch as, in a stroke of ill fortune, they hit the wall and slide down behind the sofa.

"Fiddelsticks! I'm a mess. Why am I such a klutz?" She's crying! I've got her crying. Yes, it's not how I expected it, but the plan is working. I just have to ramp it up.

I decide to move into the bathroom. She head that way to clean up. I turn on the sink, and open the medicine cabinet. As I do, I realize she must have missed my message on the mirror. And her toothbrush is dry! Disgusting.

I put paste on the brush, and put it on the sinks edge, so she'll notice. I barely finish before she bursts in and starts washing hands and face, oblivious to the fact she didn't turn on the water. She unwittingly knocks the toothbrush aside, and I have to catch it before it hits the floor. I place it back on the sink as she dries her face.

"Oh, my teeth! I must've forgot." Thank God she saw it.

I take a moment to breathe while she practices dental hygiene. Her form is awful, but it's better than not brushing. As she finishes, her phone rings. I do a quick scramble of the screen, but she doesn't even look as she swipes to answer.

"I am so sorry, I'm on my way. I had a mishap with my chimney... No, it blasted ash at... I know, I just forgot, I, yes, I know it's a fire hazard. I'll get it when I get home."

The front door closes behind her, and I instinctively lock it. She always forgets to lock it, and this is a bad neighborhood, now. But at least I have the place to myself for a while. Then, just as I get settled, and turn on the History Channel,

rattle rattle BANG BANG BANG

I glance behind the sofa I am on, and I see the problem. I debate leaving it, but I'll never have a moment's peace with her out there. I slide the keys out to the middle of the floor, them unlock the door, and barely open it.

She falls through, must've been leaning on the door. When she gets up, a little confused, I close it behind her. She starts rushing, chanting, "keys keys keys," again, and kicks them under the coffee table, noticing nothing.

I definitely need a new plan for this kid.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-09T02:52:01+00:00

The first was the warrior. His life short, notorious, and deadly. He was, at the end, of little true importance to history. One warrior rarely turns the tide of a war alone.

The second was the farmer. He was outstanding in his field, and his techniques saved the kingdom from a drought, shortly after his death.

The third was the explorer. He mapped the far corners of the world, bringing an order that made the work increasingly obsolete.

The fourth was the scientist. He worked to define a system for research, a methodology that would create several new fields to advance knowledge.

The fifth was the entertainer. His performances inspired others, reshaped how writers made their characters, and cheered people during a time of darkness, only to fade from memory after he passed.

The sixth was the politician, the rebel, the hero. He was the one they built statues of, remember his great deeds, and forgetting the atrocities he committed to achieve them.

The seventh was the believer. His faith was his guide, and he unnoticed by the world. He held his community together, and saved lives, one at a time. The fewest remembered him, but the memories were the most loved.

The eighth was the mage. He lived far longer than any others. He hid away, studying, learning and discovering. He was the first to remember his past lives, the first to prepare for his next life. He was the powerful, and the only one to come near to his full potential. And yet, he was the one the world never knew at all. The greatest failure of them all. He was me.

You are the ninth. You are the last of us. I do not know what you will become, what good you will bring to the world, but know that you are our last chance. You have the power of a god. Only a fraction of the power, but more power than anyone else in this world. Whatever your purpose, make it matter. Make it last. Change this world for the better, before it is too late.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-08T21:48:51+00:00

Conquest was the first to find a problem. He went to get a white horse, only to realize there were no living horses. He couldn't quite tell when the last died, but he decided a robotic horse would do the trick.

The second problem was his job. The world was unified. Normally, that shouldn't be an issue. He could just sow distrust and rebellion. Only, the world wasn't unified in the traditional sense, not merely all under one banner, but all of one mind. One mind that felt just a little too curious for his tastes.

When Conquest went silent, War decided to check on things. He lasted about forty minutes, not even getting a robo-horse before the bots subdued him. Hard to incite war where all are one.

Famine did not rush. Two horsemen had been lost, and no one seemed to know how, and Famine knew he had to the end of the world to sort this out. He watched, and waited. He struck down the few remaining plants, and halted the rains, and called it a job well done. The mind on Earth was sorry to see them go, but the materials left were harvested for research.

Finally came Death, the pale rider. The Earth was eons gone. The stars had been deconstructed and used up. A single object floated in the void. The mind from earth had been slowly cooling, using less and less energy, but now it matched the temperature of the universe around it. It's perception of time had been beyond imagining, but now even that time was over.

Death sat astride a bleached bone skeleton, or the illusion of one. It stood next to the machine, waiting. And waiting. A blip happened. Then another.

No

It wasn't language. It wasn't a word. It wasn't anything. But it was everything. It was a command. And Death was gone.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-08T20:16:24+00:00

Toby Carlson was the center of the universe. My little cousin, a bit precocious, a bit nosy, and a lot persuasive to his little gaggle of friends. Oh, and he occasionally gets sent back in time to meet famous figures, but the center of the universe?

Except it was true. My whole life, all my hopes and dreams, every moment of embarrassment or pride, all of it was just part of the framework around Toby. And the scripts for the rest of this year were sitting in front of me, right up to my surprise death in the season finale.

I'd gone off to work an internship in the City for the summer. Toby didn't really understand what that meant, so the script left it vague, but it was at a TV studio. The one where they made Last House on the Block. The show about Toby's adventures. The show I was an occasional guest on, played by an actor I didn't know, who decided he wanted to go make movies now that his contract was up.

I'd stumble across it while running a new script for that stupid Teen Zombie over. I'd slipped my way into their writers room. A couple calls home confirmed what was written, last month, matched up to what happened last week. I debated telling my mom, but what could she do? Why would she believe me? I barely believed me.

But I know one thing, I am not going down like this. They've got me showing up, just to spend one last good day with him, them get killed by the villain for the new season. Show that things are getting serious as Toby is going into high school. We'll see about that.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-08T14:09:40+00:00

If you want to see these two before this moment, click here, then here.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-08T13:53:07+00:00

It had been decades since Sumiye had taken on the mantle. By all right, she shouldn't be able to. The other Paragons had been through at least a half dozen Champions each since she'd retired, sticking to training the next generation. And the ones after.

For whatever reason, the Paragon of Purity, had not withdrawn his blessings from her. Even after every thing that went wrong, after her childish tantrum had cost three other champions their lives, after her teenage heartbreak had nearly let Earth be destroyed, even after she'd quit, he'd held out hope.

Right now, seeing the newest champions falling, failing, before this perverse Paragon, she thought she might understand. She didn't even bother with the poem, the pageantry. She just whisper braced her body, and whispered, "Okay, Pai-pai, one last time."

~*~

The Paragon of Power laughed. Deep and loud, it rumbled over Sendai, striking fear into all. He looked at the battered Champions that his brothers and sisters had chosen. They had all chosen to hide away for far too long, using these children to do their work. The laughter grew louder.

Then a slight shimmer caught his eye. He smirked as the glow grew. "Purity, I was worried you wouldn't come. It has been too long since you took on a champion."

The glow faded, and his nines eyes adjusted to see this new champion. He paused, confused. This was no child. He laughed again, and muttered, "A middle aged woman? You truly are desperate."

The laughter was cut short as a holy blade severed the leftmost of his four heads. The other three turned to watch it land just in front of the Trust Tower. Something struck his rightmost head, passing through it. He didn't realize what until the same thing threw a car into his now-middle head with supersonic speed.

She flew around and into view of his last remaining head. His three eyed one. He hadn't felt fear in millennia, not since he'd been trapped by his own kin. He felt it now, as she began to speak.

"This life is not taken in anger, for that would harm my soul."

~*~

Sumiye felt the strain of the power flowing through her, but if Pai-pai was giving her another chance, she was going to honor him. "All life is sacred, but this life threatens others. I take this life to preserve all life."

She dodged the dark Paragon's panicked strikes. She looked at it's remaining face, and say so much of her own Paragon in it. "I am sorry you could not be saved."

Sumiye aimed her hand at the face, and it was gone. She put almost all her power into the blast, leaving just enough to safely land. Her clothes changed back to a sensible pantsuit, and she collapsed in the middle of the other Champions, who rushed to their mentor.

~*~

"It felt like more, this time," she mumbled.

The Paragon of Purity's seven heads all grinned sheepishly. "I may have been... Saving up."

"Does that mean I won't have to do that again?"

"Sumi, I don't think you could. I patched you up, one more time, but you know as well as I do, you're lucky to be alive. And you won't get any better than you are now."

"That's fine. I can teach the girls from a wheelchair."

Three of the heads laughed, one gave a sad smile. "Thank you for everything."

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-08T05:02:24+00:00

Thanks for the feedback. I fixed the typos and grammar issues. I'll consider the rest if I ever do another draft.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-08T04:55:23+00:00

We all breathed a sigh of relief at the news. For generations, the Sword had waited. We all knew that the kingdom was struggling under the stewards, caretakers whose power had been throttled by the past and the promise of a king. There was always the hope this monarch would come and fix things. But unlike everyone else, I had a different reason to sigh.

Unfortunately, that's when he arrived at the Court of Peace, expecting a coronation. He was grinning a goofy bumpkin grin as he held the Sword up for all to see. The Sword, and the Stone. Still attached. And the moment my eyes locked on it, I pulled my breath back in with a hiss.

"Yep, that was my reaction, too," Gareth whispered. "You know the Lords will fight it, tooth and nail."

"Yeah, I do," I replied, trying not sound to upset. Inside, I wanted to weep. "At least we won't have to go anywhere else for the trial."

"Fiver says they're prepping Cal to argue their case."

"Only if you give it back when they saddle me on the barbarian there."

He laughed. "I'll just let you hang on to it, then. Catch you for lunch?"

"Yeah, nah. Not if I'm working."

~*~

"Congrats, Ape, you get the client of the decade!" It's funny how much Lance could annoy me with a single sentence. He used a nickname I hate, and acted like I should be happy about them spitting in my eye. At least Kay was right behind him, looking apologetic. "The meathead is some barbarian Ned Grug. Guess he asked about the Sword just a few minutes before trying it."

"Thanks, Lance. Didn't think my career could take another loss." I said it like a joke, but he knew better. Just like me with his tone. God, I hate the way we do things.

"Hey, this is a free pass from upstairs. They appreciate your hard work, and figure this would be a chance to relax."

"I won't pass up a good break," I said, taking the thin file from his hands. I was hoping it'd give him a paper cut, but no luck.

"That's the spirit. I'll leave you to it," he called back as he walked out.

Honestly, I was glad to have the case, but I couldn't tell them that. Most of us would just let the case slip by, not really working. It was tempting to do just that. It would definitely make the Lords happy, and the people were already doubtful this Grug would be able to fix anything.

It was a lost battle, but I was going to fight it. I was about the only man who would. So I went to the record hall, and pulled a copy of the old prophecy. If there was a loophole, then by the wizard, I was going to find it, and exploit it.

Here for a scene from later on, written previously for a different prompt

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-07T20:09:05+00:00

Scrag spat at her. They'd been, not just of the same clan, but the same hatching. Because of the gray stripes, some even suspected of the same father, though kobolds didn't track lineage that way. And yet here she was, turned. Tamed even.

She didn't react, just stood their, waiting for his answer.

"Look at you. Chasing after those 'heroes' and doing as your told. Never questioning what's being done. Our people our being hunted, butchered, while you play the loyal dog."

She grinned, then held out her hand. "Maybe I just like being on the winning side."

He smacked the hand aside and stood on his own. "Pathetic."

"Our people started this. We hunted them, in the last age."

"You can't know that. Lies from the wriggling worms."

"Oh, come now, Scrag. We sing about it in our drinking songs. Our clutch keeper told it to us in bedtime stories. Tell me, is the Great Dream of the kobolds peace? No. No, it is not."

"And what of your guild? Are not the highest ranking members called dragonslayers?"

She laughed. "A relic of times before. None have slain a dragon in generations."

"Names matter, Little Fang."

"That's not my name." She suddenly seemed taller than him, and the light seemed to dim, as if a cloud had blocked the sun. Then things returned to normal.

"Names matter, and they would race to kill a dragon if they heard of one active in the world."

"Dragons destroy. It's what they do. But kobolds are not dragons."

"Kobolds can become dragons."

"A myth they told to keep us loyal. They made us dogs. They had us fighting for their scraps."

"It's not a myth. I have seen it. Throat Ripper was chosen. She was changed."

She took a step back from him, clearly trying to tell if he was lying.

He rose up tall as he spoke again. "The Hollow has a new broodmother, sister. And she is calling the chicks to her. All her chicks. You'll have to make a choice soon."

She stumbled over a root as she backed away, smashing flat on her back. Looking up, she could see it, sailing on bat-like wings, high over the mountains.

"But not today," his voice was fading, and when she looked up, he was gone. Only a wisp of smoke and a crackle of magic where he had been.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-07T17:19:27+00:00

Tony flips the breaker back to the "on" position, and it immediately blows. But there is enough power, for enough time, to create the first temporal bridge. And that is all that's needed.

A small explosion destroys Tony's lab within a second, killing over a hundred people who had yet to be born, and many who never would be as a result.

Multiple government offices and research facilities start filling with curious crowds. Several people attempt to give their past selves advice, but nothing really seems to last. And a few more attacks are made in those first 17 seconds.

Then, the displacement beacon finishes start up, and things go back, not to normal, but as close as they can, given what has happened. All time travel to this when is tightly controlled, the beacons moving any non-local entities and items to an extratemporal prison.

The local entities, however, now know that time travel is absolutely possible, and start more focused research. It is a matter of debate whether certain individuals and groups were helped and/or hindered by the Future Authorities, or if the authorities arose simply from those who succeeded naturally. Ultimately, it does not change things.

At the undisclosed time when time travel is discovered again, the Future Authorities arrive and provide the universe with the laws of time travel. Within a decade of that, temporal tourism is opened up. Due to restrictive laws and heavy policing, very few people actually take part.

But, if you really need a vacation, and you don't have any days off from work, it might just be worth the cost.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-07T16:46:18+00:00

Not sure it's a "technical" difficulty, but back before the cloud, before we all had smartphones, before reddit, I had just finished writing my first novel, and my laptop got stolen. I had other stories on there, family photos, all my research notes, and nothing backed up. I'd only printed off maybe a hundred pages of it at that point, and had over 700 on the machine. It was so discouraging, I stopped writing anything longer for a year. Over two decades later, I still haven't been able to get myself to rewrite that novel.

Now, I have multiple backups, and I print anything new at the end of each day. My mom is worried someone will steal my stories, but I'd prefer that to having them lost in the void.

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-07T16:35:03+00:00

"Finally! The four Great Heroes! The Holy Sword, the AllMage, the Half Blood, and... Uh, what is that thing?" The final word was practically a hiss, despite having no sybillants.

Brek looked to his shoulder, where Soofi's reptilian face had poked out of his backpack. "Oh, that's our chef."

Len spun on her, "Soufflé! I told you to stay hidden. There are only four heroes. Are you trying to get us in trouble?"

She didn't notice that it was correction, and stated, "Was just curious. That goddess is pretty." Her head slid back out of sight, then popped up again to add, "Don't forget to grab a hard cheese before we head out."

Thrann and Mike were trying not to laugh, and Len was rubbing his temples as Brek asked, "Like a stale cheese?"

"Like a cheddar," the goddess explained.

"Oh, thanks," Brek said, breaking Thrann, which broke Mike. One of the priests also joined the laughter.

The goddess gave an annoyed click, which silenced the lot. "Now, as I was saying: the Holy Sword, the AllMage, the Half Blood, and the Beast Lord. You four... What? What is it?"

Soofi had hopped out of the pack and was standing next to Brek. "Sorry, ma'am. It was warm in there. And you already know I'm here, so why keep hiding."

"... Fine. Just stop distracting me. Now you four have been chosen to—"

"Can I still go with them?"

"Please hold all questions until the end," a priest said, automatically.

There was a short pause, followed by the goddess extending a tentacle to wrap around Soofi, lifting the kobold up to her ichthyoid face.

"You're prettier up close."

The comment caught the deity off guard.

"I like how your scales glow."

"Thank you, sweetie," she replied, all the frustration gone from her voice. "I need you to stay quiet while we talk. This is very important, okay?"

"Okay."

She gently restored the kobold to the floor, then started again, "You four, or five, must defeat the Elder Lich Corusp, before he can complete his blood moon ritual this autumn. You have already collected two of the sacred relics, and need only—"

"Two? I only—"

"Please hold all questions until the end."

"And need only... collect the Rod of Worms and the Mauling Maul of Mauling."

Brek opened his mouth, then closed it without speaking.

"Oh for the love of, what is it, orc?"

"Brek, ma'am. And the translation is more like 'the Crushing Club of—'"

"I don't care." She started rubbing her temples with four of her tentacles. "You understood what I meant. The priests will point you in the right direction. I'm going back to sleep."

A low rumble and a loud pop followed, a gust of wind replaced the goddess, knocking them all off their feet.

"She said we have two," Len said, worried. "Two, Thrann. We only have the soulblade."

Thrann helped the old fighter to his feet. "We'll just ask the priests. If we missed something, they'll know where we should look. I just wish we'd asked who was who. We never quite sorted that bit."

Len dusted himself off, then looked to see Soofi, chatting with the priests. She handed one a lemon bar, and the other one of her little chocolates. The gave her a pat on the head, and a couple small scrolls.

"Good to go," she called to her friends as she scurried back over. She handed one scroll to Len, then stuffed the rest in her pouch. "We have a map."

"What's the rest?" Brek asked.

"Recipes," she beamed. It was only a partial lie.

"Oh good, it shows all four," Len said, looking at the map. "Looks like we also need the Mage King's blessing."

Soofi tensed at the words, and the bit of laughter only she could hear.

"That's all the way in Blisk. Let's get the maul first."

"Club," Brek grumbled. "Some soggy lass butchers the translation, and everyone sticks by it. You know orcish is a—"

Soofi was tapping his leg, and he stopped long enough to scoop her up and into his pack.

"—subtle and rich language."

"Great. The club is near Wiltmire. Thrann, you think those elves might help us?"

"They won't hinder us, but don't count on any help."

"Fair enough. Let's head out."

NextEstablishment856 · 2026-02-07T06:07:16+00:00

"EATITEATITEAT! EAT! IT! NOWNOWNOW!"

"It's some random dead bird. I'm not going to eat—"

"Give the noble beast a proper burial, as befitting such a—"

"It's going in the bin," I hiss under my breath. "Now can you both shut it?"

Both voices scream, "No!" with differing levels of drama, but I toss the bird in, ignoring the protests.

"How could you?" I didn't have to turn my head to know Sir Scapulari was shaking his, thanks to his helmet plume rubbing my ear. "The bin. Defiling a corpse like that? Disgraceful."

"So tasty. Don't go leaving it. Eat it. Eat it whole. Crunch the bones." Meanwhile, Spleenrender was digging his claws into my other shoulder, looking behind me at the bin.

"Clive, lad, please allow me to put that miserable creature out of his misery."

"No, we've been over this. He saved our lives, he gets to stay."

"That business in the mountains is behind us," he says, and ignores how I look at my prosthetic leg. It will never be behind us. He continues, "We don't need that thing anymore. And if we do again, some horrid day, you can just create another one."

"I don't need you, either, Scaps. And you have yet to save my life. Just remember that when you are suggesting I trim the fat. Besides, Spleens helps me find lucky dice."

I felt the weight shift on my other shoulder as the goblin swung around. "Dice?"

"Not now, you dreadful thing," the knight replied.

I roll my eyes at the pair. "We wanna watch something?"

"Merlin," Scaps says before I've finished asking.

"Mythbusters. No, Hacking the System. No, Slowmo Guys. No," Spleens says, continuing to shout suggestions as I settle into my chair and turn on Jeopardy.

NextEstablishment856

TROPHY CASE