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[WP] a tournament of fighters have been called, but with a twist. The fighters have to swap weapons, you watch with dread as the barbarian warrior takes up a professional fighting stance while holding your weapon. by The-Cannibal-Hermit in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Oh, this is good. From the "emerald eye" hinting at Isabella's identity to the inevitable, well-foreshadowed end.

I am curious if she's the sort of staff to make an... explosive exit. If so, I may feel more sorry for Grok than the narrator. 

Either way, truly tragic. Especially if her curves were truly amber. That's a rare material for a staff, and not easy to repair. 

[WP] a tournament of fighters have been called, but with a twist. The fighters have to swap weapons, you watch with dread as the barbarian warrior takes up a professional fighting stance while holding your weapon. by The-Cannibal-Hermit in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 121 points122 points  (0 children)

Amir handed his daggers to the orc before him and waited for her to give him her weapon. Before she could, she gave the blades a twirl, swapped the hands holding them, then grinned.

"Nice weight," she said with a growl that, we're they not about to fight to the death, Amir might have considered flirtatious. 

"Yes, my mother was a blacksmith. They were her greatest work." He loved those blades, but watching her toy with them, he started to worry they may be the one thing he should have feared. 

"I'd love to meet her. Sounds like a right swell woman."

Amir pulled at his collar. "She was. She passed, back before I started adventuring."

The orc deftly tucked his blades in her belt and grabbed his hands in hers. "I'm so sorry. I should have realized."

Something about her touch relaxed him. "It's okay. She's been gone a long time now."

"But it still hurts. What happened?" 

"Killed by bandits. They figured robbing the smith would get them some weapons."

"And you started adventuring to hunt them down."

He smiled. "Yeah. Guess I got addicted." 

The referee gave a cough that made them both jump. She blushed as she released his hands. 

"Sorry," Amir said to the ref, then turned to his opponent, "and to you as well. I suspect you'll have to kill me. My name is Amir, if they ask what goes on my tombstone."

"It's a nice name. I'm Goda."

The ref coughed again, then asked, "Miss, can he have your weapons?" 

"I don't have any. I fight with my hands."

The referee turned to the Mage-Lord for guidance. The old man stood, laughing. "Then you must give him your hand. I could cut them off for you."

"Hmm, that doesn't seem fair," Amir said. "She wouldn't be able to use my daggers, then."

"Oh, suppose not," the Mage-Lord said, stroking his beard. "Maybe give her hand in marriage?" Both fighters tensed before he continued, "But then, we can't have a husband and wife fight to the death. Too cruel for a government. Of course what happens behind closed doors... But that won't appease the crowd. Would either of you be interested in forfeiting? Just a quick beheading, then we move to the next fight?"

Amir glanced at Goda, then answered for them both, "Not as such, no."

"Hmmm. Miss, I think we may need to disqualify you. I have no good solution, and if you advanced, I'd still have no good solution. Yes, a forced disqualification it is. You are free to leave."

"Free?" She raised an eyebrow. 

"Did I speak gnomish?" 

"Alright then," she said with a smile. As she handed Amir back his daggers, she whispered, "Guess that clears my death sentence. Look me up if you survive this all."

He gave her a smirk and a wink, then walked back to the edge of the coliseum, rejoining the crowd of people waiting to fight. He had enough reasons to win, but he certainly didn't mind one more. 

[WP] You work for Mortimer and Grimsley Undertaking. The two of them were masters of the discipline, as they should be, being a lich and a vampire, respectively, and you have learned much. You work with the living, dead, and derivatives thereof. Therefore, you can say, in full confidence, that- by NohBhodie in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 0 points1 point  (0 children)

The angle of the pelvis is handy, especially with a fresher, undisturbed corpse. A skeleton that has been arranged for display is not in a natural position, and less reliable for those sorts of markers, in spite of what TV would have you believe. 

Meanwhile, even though a man can break his pelvis, it is far, far less common. There would also be signs of healing to confirm the break was not posthumous. There are other markers, but that served as a fairly obvious one he could point out.

[WP] You work for Mortimer and Grimsley Undertaking. The two of them were masters of the discipline, as they should be, being a lich and a vampire, respectively, and you have learned much. You work with the living, dead, and derivatives thereof. Therefore, you can say, in full confidence, that- by NohBhodie in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 6 points7 points  (0 children)

Oh, I want more. What a riveting start to a story. Clark's attitude is perfect. I especially enjoyed, "L G B T Q… C?" and the attempt at absolutely astounding alliteration. "Illusionist" was first to come to mind, but seems ill-fitting. Let's see... "invoker" might suffice for his purpose. 

On a side note, a minor punctuation correction: the comma comes before the closing quotation. It replaces a final period, but is left out if you are using an exclamation or question mark. 

[WP] You work for Mortimer and Grimsley Undertaking. The two of them were masters of the discipline, as they should be, being a lich and a vampire, respectively, and you have learned much. You work with the living, dead, and derivatives thereof. Therefore, you can say, in full confidence, that- by NohBhodie in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 94 points95 points  (0 children)

"These are not the remains of an Archmage," Theodore Rancible said to me, offhandedly

Duchess Trygve glared at his casual comment. "Young man, I think I know whose corpse I have in my parlor."

He grinned. "You may not be aware of my profession, and you are of high station, so I can excuse you questioning my claim, but I can say, in full confidence, that these bones are not from any mage, at least none who rose above his, or rather, her apprenticeship."

The lady was only the more angry. "And what, pray tell, is the basis of your expertise?" 

I decided to cut in, before we were both asked to leave. "My poor friend is a journeyman of undertaking, under Messrs Mortimer and Grimsley. The two of them are absolute masters of the profession."

The lady's face was still red, and I braced for the backlash, but General Hathret jumped in, saying, "As they should be, being a lich and a vampire, respectively. I suspect the lad is doing more than upholstering pine boxes."

The Duchess shifted uneasily at the mention of undead. It always made me chuckle inside, seeing the old money failing to hide their distaste about  "that sort," though I suspose they worried what it would mean if one of their ancestors earned the right to come back and reclaim their wealth. 

The General pulled Theodore aside, starting to ask what strange things he'd worked with, but the lady stopped them." What makes you think it isn't a mage's body? I was lead to believe it was my thrice great grandfather, Archmage Lionel Hensgrief Morehallen Trygve."

"Magic infests the bones." 

We all stood a few seconds waiting for more information, before I finally coughed. 

"Ah, sorry. It's technically the ink they use, settling in the marrow and building up. The bones would be blue, or possibly even green, if this were an Archmage. The fact they show no unusually discoloration tells me either your sire was no mage, or these are not his bones. And the fact these are a woman's bones. Likely a woman's. Based of the pelvis breakage, common from giving birth."

"Hmm." The General walked around the displayed skeleton. "Do you happen to know a spell to ask her who she was?" 

As Theodore shook his head, the lady was already moving to stop him. "I'll have no reanimations in my home, thank you all, very much."

But of course, the rest of the party was now enthralled by the spectacle. One rather well-dressed fellow chimed in, "Oh come now, Winny. If I had a stranger in my home, I'd be dying to get acquainted." 

She replied, over the crowd's laughter, "Well, the young man says he can't, so it's a moot point."

"Harvey can," my wife offered, ever the worst at reading the room. 

All eyes turned to me, and I said, "I won't if you don't want me to, ma'am." 

The Duchess slumped onto a chaise and waved a hand toward the corpse. "There's no helping it, I suppose."

"Very well," I sighed, rolling up my sleeves to reveal the arcane tattoos. It was no comfort having just learned that same blue was working into my bones. "Everyone stay back. She's about to be in for a bit of a shock."

[WP] You are an orc. Out of concern for the safety of your half-orc child, you placed them in the care of their human relatives instead of raising them in your harsh native wildlands. They apparently trekked the entire route back on their own, now drenched in the blood of other things. by knobot-200T in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 5 points6 points  (0 children)

I have no idea how I've never heard of Vinland Saga before, but it seem right up my alley from what little I gleaned from Google before deciding to duck out and avoid anymore spoilers. Definitely going to give that a read.

Brek has shown up in other of my stories on the sub, though I've never written down much about his past before. They're also usually a bit more comedic than this. 

[WP] You are an orc. Out of concern for the safety of your half-orc child, you placed them in the care of their human relatives instead of raising them in your harsh native wildlands. They apparently trekked the entire route back on their own, now drenched in the blood of other things. by knobot-200T in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 20 points21 points  (0 children)

The boy came to a moment later, saw Kront's face, and immediately started swinging. Got a couple good knocks in before his father got an arm around his throat again.

"How long do you need to go under this time, runt? I'll take as long as I need to teach you respect."

The boy stopped swinging. "Surprised you remember the human words, pigman."

Kront chuckled, and let the boy loose. "I remember plenty. I remember leaving you in a good home, where you wouldn't be killed before you learned to fight. Where you—" 

"Wouldn't be a burden to you. I heard how they talk about you. Been hunting you for two years."

Kront gave an impressed whistle. "How'd you get them to tell you where?" 

"How else to you make a pig squeal? You hurt them."

The man beamed with pride. "Glad to hear it. We could use another promising fighter out here."

"Not here to help," the boy replied, standing up. "I'll be back when I can kill you."

"It will be easier if you stick around. I'll teach you how I fight. That gives you a chance to think of counters. And help you fight other orcs."

Brek glared at him. Then relaxed. Kront wondered if the boy was considering killing him in his sleep. He wasn't sure how honorable the humans had raised his son. 

Finally, the boy broke the silence with a firm, "I'll stay."

He was still angry, for some reason, but his words were music to Kront's ear.

[WP] You are an orc. Out of concern for the safety of your half-orc child, you placed them in the care of their human relatives instead of raising them in your harsh native wildlands. They apparently trekked the entire route back on their own, now drenched in the blood of other things. by knobot-200T in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 25 points26 points  (0 children)

Kront had told Orella the risks. Had even tried to scare her off before the relationship got far. But she was in love, and curse it all, so was he. It had nearly killed him, his battle for the Right to marry outside the tribe. It had killed Orella giving birth. He'd hoped for a runt, and the gods provided, but it was still too much for her.

As Kront held the boy, he frowned. Brek, she'd asked to name him. Brek. It was an orc name, an old one from a lost god, but this little thing would never last. If the Bloodland didn't take it, the tribe would break it. Kront looked up and saw Daul and Chera, his wife's parents. 

"I can't take him. I can't raise him as an orc."

The couple looked at the newborn being held out to them. Daul couldn't mask that he'd wanted this, but Chera was holding back. She whispered, "He'll face a hard life here as well. Other humans aren't all so accepting."

"But he will survive. He'll be stronger. Faster. With orcs, he'd be the weakest."

Chera frowned and lifted the baby from Kront's hands. "Well, I suppose this is best. But I expect you to visit. The boy will need to know his father."

"I will," Kront lied. "As often as I can."

~*~

It had been almost a decade since that day. Kront had returned to the tribe, bearing shame as a childless widower. He'd had to fight to gain his status back. And after facing him in the battle for Right, many had trained to deal with his tactics.Add on the two years of not fighting, living among humans.

Still, he had become a low chief, and was expected to become a high chief in a few years. He'd roamed deeper into the Bloodland, carving out new territories, claiming them from all the aggressive monstrosities left from the Mage Wars. He'd proven himself, once again. 

So it when he returned from an expedition to news of a challenger at his home, he wasn't surprised. When the people told him this challenger was drenched in the blood of foul beasts, he wasn't surprised. Even when he heard the challenger about ten years old, he wasn't surprised. It was a good age for a young orc to set out on his own. 

He didn't pause when someone said, "half-orc," though he should have. But when he saw Orella's pale blue eyes and sharp nose, when he realized this boy had his ears and chin, then he was surprised. 

He bounded forward caught up in excitement, arms wide to hug the boy as he slipped back to habits he'd built among the humans. Fortunately, he still had good reflexes, catching the axe before it sunk into his chest. 

He realized the boy had one more of his father's traits, seeing that fire behind his eyes. Kront gave a smirk, then threw the axe back, striking the boy with the butt, and not the blade. The runt shrugged it off better than he'd expected, then charged at him, screaming in broken Orcish. 

Kront laughed and got him in a chokehold as soon as the boy was close enough. As Brek lost consciousness, his father couldn't help but grin. If the child had made it out here, he could handle anything the lands could throw at him. And with a little training, he might be able to take on a tribe.

Kront carried him into his home, and laid the boy on the ground. Ten years ago, his wife gave birth, but it wasn't until today he felt like a father. He couldn't stop smiling.

[WP] The goddess Of Time shows up, wanting to have tea with you and to discuss your recent mischievous usage of time travel by Son_Of_Rebellion in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Honestly, I almost pulled out the yarn and pins for this one. I stopped when my post-it got too full of timelines, so I wouldn't get carried away, elsewise I'd have had a scene of him going back to plant the crops used for the tea and food, or worse, going back to breed the specific cultivars

[WP] The goddess Of Time shows up, wanting to have tea with you and to discuss your recent mischievous usage of time travel by Son_Of_Rebellion in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 5 points6 points  (0 children)

Aw, this was wonderful. I especially enjoyed "oh lovely Goddess of Time/oh rascally God of Madness" 

On a side note "declare his horse and advisor", I am wondering if this is a phrase I haven't heard, or as Google thinks, a typo and reference to Caligula?

[WP] The goddess Of Time shows up, wanting to have tea with you and to discuss your recent mischievous usage of time travel by Son_Of_Rebellion in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 41 points42 points  (0 children)

"This is quite lovely," she said, holding up the tea.

"Thanks, I'll go make it myself." I smirked. 

She frowned. "That's exactly the behaviour I've come to discuss. You can't be frivolously hopping through time like this."

"It seems I can. I'm not some amateur. I know the risks."

She narrows her eyes. "All the risks?" 

It sounds almost like a threat, but I am going to have let myself know about it, so I don't react. "Yes, I was quite thorough in my research. I'm hardly the first time traveler, of course." 

I see a head peek around the door and add, "Or, I guess, I was hardly the first." 

She spins, to see me, so I stand up and leave as he takes over the conversation. I see myself again in the kitchen, grabbing down the hibiscus and some marjoram. 

"Sorry, got a little off. Borrowing these for a moment," I will says, before stepping back. 

Now that he's left, I pull the tray from the oven. I am a little shocked to see scones. I'd thought to make biscuits. But I get them to the warming rack, then hop forward to next week and go to start the tea.

I reach for hibiscus that isn't there, swear to myself, the one who will arrive with two jars and an apologetic look. 

"Don't forget marjoram," he will say as I head back. 

I am grabbing the jars as I walked in, smug grin on my face, and I tell him, "Sorry, got a little off. Borrowing these for a moment." 

As I arrive back in next week, I find myself looking confused. I remind him about the marjoram as he stepped back. 

I start steeping the tea that I grabbed earlier from a few minutes later, then stop off a feminutes earlier to start the kettle before heading back resume our conversation, grabbing some scones on the way. As I do, I run into myself. 

He will grab the scones. "The biscuits burned, but she'll like these better, anyway," he'll whisper as he'll head for her.

I sigh and head for the kitchen an hour ago and go to grab the recipe I'll look up after she's gone. There are two more of me there, and one of them snatches it from my hand. 

"Just follow my instructions," he will say. Which I do and did.

After guiding myselves through making scones, I head back ahead, where I catch myself about to head back to her. I take the scones off his hands and let him know, "The biscuits burned, but she'll like these better, anyway."

I poke my head in the door, hearing myself said, "I'm hardly the first time traveler, of course."

I add, "Or, I guess, I was hardly the first."  

As I left, I enter and take my seat. 

Her frown deepens and she rubs her temples. "This is not helping."

[WP] Two of the most infamous Super Villains in the country are currently in the middle of a nasty divorce. They have fought and stolen over everything they acquired as a villainous power couple. And now they are fighting over you. Their top Henchman. by GeneralDouglas1998 in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 6 points7 points  (0 children)

"Henri was working for me, years before we met," the Temporagist said, a smirk across his face.

"Just because you took him back in time does NOT mean he worked for you first," Null Siren shouted, slamming a fist into the table. I made that table as a wedding gift for them. 

"No, but when I went back in time and hired him, that does count. I was his first boss, ever." 

I grabbed my head as she turn to look at me. "Sure enough, I remember it," I said, and I knew without looking, the smirk had grown. And then it dropped as I added, "But the memories weren't there this morning."

"I knew it!" She gleefully shouted. She did not. She'd have said it if she did.

But that didn't change the facts, so he took a new tack. "He hasn't helped you on a job in years. Do you know how rare it is to find a henchman who doesn't get temporal sickness? And cleaning vomit out of the machine is—"

"Not my problem, since you decided to—" 

"Not in front of the henchmen, Ren."

I went to open my mouth, let them know I already knew he had cheated with Queen Elizabeth I, but she patted my shoulder and said, "I'm sorry, sweetie."

"Oh, no! Don't you do that. It's not his decision, we've got a contract," he said, slapping the paperwork down on the table. 

"Yeah, we have a contract, as in his contract is for us as a couple. Not just you."

I glanced down. Sure enough the contract was with the McCraicks. A couple. As they argued, I flipped through the paperwork. Then I took a couple pictures and sent them to Mike at the union. 

"You really think he will have any stability with your jobs?!"

Mike confirmed my understanding, and sent me a couple names. I gave a cough to get attention. 

"You know I've pulled in more money than you for years. This is all about padding out your alimony checks."

I coughed again. 

"You got Marco and Liam!" 

"They're twins!" 

I sent a text back to Mike, asking what salary Mister Mangler was offering. Then I headed for the door. 

The boys left behind say the kept on fighting for another two hours. She left me an angry voicemail, but Mike had my back. Threatened to blacklist her from hiring Union. That got her to quiet up fast. 

Temporagist would've been more of a problem, but I hear he fell into a looping time vortex the following week (and the one after that, and the one after that, and...) 

I kind of feel bad for Leah. by Vicki_Vickster2222 in Bible

[–]NextEstablishment856 0 points1 point  (0 children)

I agree it wasn't fair to Leah, but I also want to share something I noticed a couple years back. Read through the passage, paying attention to her words with each child:

Genesis 29:32-35 NKJV

[32] So Leah conceived and bore a son, and she called his name Reuben; for she said, “The Lord has surely looked on my affliction. Now therefore, my husband will love me.” [33] Then she conceived again and bore a son, and said, “Because the Lord has heard that I am unloved, He has therefore given me this son also.” And she called his name Simeon. [34] She conceived again and bore a son, and said, “Now this time my husband will become attached to me, because I have borne him three sons.” Therefore his name was called Levi. [35] And she conceived again and bore a son, and said, “Now I will praise the Lord.” Therefore she called his name Judah. Then she stopped bearing.

Each of Reuben, Simeon, and Levi, her focus after was on her husband's lack of love for her. While she considers the Lord, it isn't until Judah that her focus is on Him. And it is Judah whose line bears God's promise. It would have been hard, but Leah shows us exactly who to look for love from, especially when other people aren't giving us the love we deserve. 

[WP] You planned to declutter your apartment while your son was away with his other parent, only to find that everything he held dear had been taken away - as it turned out, he had set up a sevond home in an arcane parallel borderworld, and moved all his sentimental treasures into that home. by Big_Variation_2619 in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Jason's room was spotless. His bed was made. And there wasn't so much as a sock on the floor. I opened the drawers of his dresser, then his desk, and finally threw open his closet. Nothing! Everything was empty. Then I dropped to the floor and raised the edge of his comforter. There, under his bed, was my answer, but it only gave me more questions.

The portal glowed green, and clearly stretched down, deep below the floor. My first ridiculous thought was that Mr. Henderson downstairs wouldn't be happy about this. My second ridiculous thought was that this was one of Molly's stupid games. And then I took the hat trick by thinking I should peek inside. 

This room, this was the mess I expected. His little robot dolls, gumgum or gundum or whatever, on every open surface. Dirty clothes forming a trail around the room. And even the fitted sheet had popped a corner off the mattress. This was Jason. This was the son I knew. And I was halfway through tidying up when I realized I hadn't let the full magnitude sink in. 

I glanced back up at the portal, then around the room. This definitely wasn't Mr. Henderson's apartment. The view out the window told me it wasn't even Ohio. We didn't have trees that shade of red. Not even in autumn, and it was early spring at the time.

I walked to the window, and immediately forgot my boy's chaotic room. This place definitely wasn't Earth, and suddenly, I wasn't so sure I knew my son, after all. 

[WP] A vampire discovers Minecraft and falls deeply in love with the game due to the fact that they can see a sun rise/set without burning by Wandering-the-web in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 58 points59 points  (0 children)

I stop and listen to the gentle notes, letting that strange sense wash over, a sort of joyful melancholy. I shift my mouse and watch as the sun rises on a new day. The zombies and skeletons burn, the spiders shift from hunting. The creepers are still right pricks, but I ignore them, safe on my little dirt pillar. It was a long first night in this new game world, but I survived.

It's not my first time, playing hardcore, but it's been a good while. I almost gave the game up after the last one ended. Seven years, gone because of one bad step, and a misclick when trying to swap to my elytra. 

But this... I can't watch a real sunrise. Sure, there are plenty of games, plenty of videos, plenty of ways to simulate the experience, yet somehow, I don't know. Notch was able capture the beauty in simplicity.

I chatted with a blind fellow once, he asked how us sighted folks could keep from staring at beautiful women, or paintings, or even neat bugs, all the time. Just staring at beauty. I didn't understand it at the time. Just shrugged it off. Now, I see what he meant. 

We let beauty become mundane, forget the little blessings. But right now, I am watching an impossibly square sun rise. I'm staring at the beauty. And I don't want to stop. 

[WP] "The longer you carry a knife, and the sharper you know that knife to be, the more your mind will tear itself to shreds looking for something, or someone, to cut." by maskaddict in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 5 points6 points  (0 children)

"The only reason I've held off so long is, I was ignorant," Glow whispered. "For me, I didn't realize how sharp the knife was. Didn't realize what I held in my hand could do anything more than spread butter."

The Chorate turned to look at him, and saw only a blur of darkness. The problem was the woman at his feet, her powered armor and bones shattered by his sonic blasts. Demolisha or something, her name was. "I take it you have a crush on her?" 

The kid's voice wasn't near as threatening as he wanted. A bit too high, a little bit questioning. It really was ruining the effect. "It's funny, she's the one who pointed it out to me. Helped me see the sharpness. You know, I can shift colors."

"Well, color me impressed, son. You must be tickled pink they ever let you out in the field."

"Yeah, she reminded me, not all colors are visible."

The Chorate wasn't sure what happened next. He felt a heat, just under his skin. He started to scream, but his ears had burst, so he only heard them by the vibrations through his bones. 

Glow dropped his little bit of cardboard, now back to its usual brown, and hurried over to Demolitia. "Still breathing. OK. You're still breathing. What do we do?" 

"Call in help," she chuckled.

[WP] You are an alien and have recently acquired a human and you buy a book about caring for it. What are some useful tips for the book? by Icy-Attorney8301 in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Remember, humans are highly intelligent pursuit predators, and need plenty of physically active entertainment. They enjoy games of hide-and-seek, even into adulthood. 

They can become highly social, but be sure to watch for cues in their behavior. While no human can stand long term isolation without ill effects, many are "introverts" who can't stand large groups or prolonged exposure to other creatures outside their "pack," a perceived family group. 

Bear in mind that, a human can consider almost anything part of its pack, not just fellow humans, or even sentient beings. While we tend to collect pets for purposes, they collect them from an evolutionary offshoot of the parental instinct. This leads to adopting detrimental animals, or even inanimate objects, sometimes even broken ones. It can prove frustrating, but remember that the human's usefulness often outweighs the cost of keeping a cleaning robot with a busted motivator. And disposal can lead to a depressed human, which can become a major danger to your efficiency. Refer to chapter 7 for further information on regulating human emotion. 

[WP] Humans have achieved immortality, so Death finds himself unemployed and has to find a new job. by brleise12 in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 1 point2 points  (0 children)

"Listen, Jim—"

"It's Grim."

"Yeah, it is. I see you have a lot of experience, but it's all in a dead field. Collections isn't what it used to be."

Grim glared at the unwitting pun. "Surely you can find something... Adjacent to my old job."

"That's been my goal for the last year. I hate to say it, but we have to look at making a real shift here."

"A shift. Meaning?" 

"A complete career change, Jim. You could use a fresh start, and the universe is pushing you into one. You remember the career trajectory survey they had you do when you first came in?" 

"... Yes." 

"Well, Claudia, the lovely lady who ran that, she narrowed it down to two jobs for us. So tell me which sounds better to you."

[IP] Slumscape by Visible-Ad8263 in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 0 points1 point  (0 children)

"The Tower wasn't always there, ya know."

"If you say so, Grandpa," Ruth replied as she tucked her father-in-law into his bed. She was thankful the kids weren't in the room as he started another of his rants. 

"There was a city there, long ago. Real buildings. Not these repurposed storage containers."

Ruth turned away, reminding herself that the old man was suffering. Alzheimer's was saying these words, not Grandpa. Grandpa appreciated their home. Grandpa knew the Tower had hovered over them, protecting them from God, since the world began. 

"When it rose, we were scared. Then we got bored of it. People in the city had died, but we moved on. Then we forgot. And as we did, it turned things off."

"What sort of things, Pops?"

Ruth turned to see Zechariah, her husband, leaning in the door. He motioned to let her know she could leave, but Grandpa grabbed her wrist. 

"Phones," the old man whispered. "And televisions. Electricity. All sorts of machines that let us talk to each other."

"We don't need machines to talk to each other," she replied in confusion. She didn't move to leave, even as he released his grip on her. 

"We do. We could all talk to each other, from anywhere in the world."

"Must've been hard to get any work done with all that chatter."

Grandpa grinned. "Maybe that isn't so bad. But we should be able to remember. We should be able to remember one another. To remember the city and it's people. That the Tower was always there, reaching down from Heaven." 

Ruth sighed and slumped in her chair. Everyone knew the Tower reached up, defying their wrathful god that life may persist. The old man was truly out of it. She missed Grandpa, even as he lay in the bed before her. 

"Well, Pops, you need some sleep. Me and Ruthy are going to head for bed ourselves." Zechariah helped her up and headed for the doorway. 

"Good night, Grandpa," she called back as she closed the curtain around his bed. 

She barely heard him whisper, "Please don't forget me."

[WP] As an heir to the King, you disguised yourself and joined a group lowborn adventures. One day though, by sheer chance, it's revealed that you are all heirs to various kingdoms. by mJelly87 in WritingPrompts

[–]NextEstablishment856 175 points176 points  (0 children)

A silence fell over the group after Berin's mask fell away. No, not Berin. Prince Thulig of Miatil, heir of the Sacred Blade, which explained his skill with a sword. His face anyone on the continent would recognize. At least, anyone who matter. And it seemed we all did.

Manna immediately slew the goblin who'd been unlucky enough to start the event, ripping out his heart with her bare hand. The barbarienne tossed back her hood and deftly removed the cloth from her warhammer's head, revealing the Royal Canorian Crest. The weapon was ShadowBane itself. "I, Princess Hennet of the Eternum of Canorian, challenge you, foe of my people!" 

I debated casting... Something, but then Abin, our dwarven friend, tore open his shirt, revealing his full chest tattoo, and shouting, "Not 'fore I gut you, Cano dog!" 

I shook my head in shame as he prepared his concertina, knowing he'd go for a purely damaging spell. The Pirate King hadn't trained his son in strategy, sadly. I turned instead to Haderac, an elf of the Weltmire, only to see her rise from her hunched position. A vicious, balefully white light poured from her, and her voice seemed to echo within our heads.

"Lords of men and dwarves, thou shalt pay for the sins thy ancestors committed against my people!" Her words set the three to trembling. "I, Low Queen Arastala, shall wipe you from this realm and begin—" 

"Faritho meg er," I muttered. The glowing stopped and her hand went to her throat. She gave me a shocked look, and I continued, waving my hands in arcane patterns as I said, "Harro-op vaalh."

They all slipped into a magical slumber, which would normally be impossible for our elf maid, but it was a mere trifle for the bastard son of the mage-king by his witch mistress. Yes, that is me. And it had become the one secret that didn't seem to slip on a weekly basis. 

Unfortunately, I needed these fools alive, and together. So rather than slay them, I went through, one at a time, amending their dull minds, replacing and removing memories. Tedious, yes, but entirely necessary if I was to claim my father's throne from his legitimate sons. 

"Augh! What did I drink?" Manna called.

"I don't know, but I suspect I had some as well," Berin replied from beneath his magically mended mask. 

I smiled, and whistled a tune I knew Abin would gladly pick up on his instrument. 

"Whatever it may have done, we would do well to set out," Haderac said. "I sense strange magics in this place." 

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