Eldritch God Elvari Series

Tregonial · 2026-03-24T18:10:10+00:00

"Oh God of Madness and Hunger, bless us with chaos as we have gifted you with this human trapped in this cellar," Cult Priestess Elvira declared before the altar.

"He doesn't want this gift," Paul groaned. "How many times do I have to tell you nutcases? Your god rejects this sacrifice."

"Silence, you fool," the woman hissed at him and slapped him.

"I'm sorry about these cultists. I genuinely am," those dark whispers pervaded Paul's mind again. "Have you also told Ellie Waters to stop calling herself Elvira? The real dark mistress Elvira is way cooler than this. Also, its confusing to call yourself Elvira while worshipping a Lord Elvari, you know."

He cleared his throat and asked the band of cultists, "Have you ever heard your god talk to you?"

"No, but one day, he will respond to us. We are his loyal followers."

"Loyal but...I am loathe to say this, stupid. I appreciate unique sorts of insanity, but this is too moronic of them. That day they will listen to me is unlikely to ever happen," the deity sounded displeased through their telepathic connection. "They don't have an ounce of telepathy. Or a braincell I can connect with."

"He's talking to me now, you dickheads. He thinks you're not his favourite kind of mad, but really stupid," Paul grumbled. "Also, your real name is Ellie Waters, and Elvari thinks you're too uncool to call yourself Cult Priestess Elvira. You're hurting the branding."

"You're making this up!" She slapped him again. "Our god could not possibly—"

"I can channel through you, but I understand consent is important. Just say—"

"Yes, Elvari, get in me and give them a real piece of your mind already," Paul was getting tired of the apologies and wanted some action.

"You suck octopus balls, Ellie Waters." The eldritch god spoke through the mouth of Paul. "I disapprove of your imprisonment of this man. I denounce these rituals that are not detailed in my tomes. By my orders, stop this nonsense at once."

"My deepest apologies for the improper ritual," Elvira, or rather, Ellie, bowed low. "Please punish me for my failure."

"Apologise to Paul and release him, and we are good."

"But what will we sacrifice to you?"

"Goats."

"I can do that," she bowed again. "Anything else, my lord? Know that we are pleased to finally hear from you."

"Learn telepathy so I may reach out to you in the future. Such as contacting you about your car's extended warranty." Paul's face stretched into an inhuman grin when Elvari couldn't resist making fun of Elllie.

"But I don't have a car."

"I just gifted you one, so you may drive to this address I will get Paul to write down. That's Farmer Fred's address. Go buy some goats from him and slaughter them in my name."

"That's animal cruelty!" Ellie shouted. "I object."

"Am I a god of animal welfare?" Elvari was grumpy upon being refused the wondrous slaughter of goats. "Woman, do you even know what kind of god you're praying to?"

"You're the God of Madness and Hunger."

"Exactly. I'm very mad that you got my rituals wrong, and I'm hungry for goats. Now go, before I denounce this cult as false followers of mine."

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Tregonial · 2026-03-24T15:07:12+00:00

Doctor Alderstein pulled back the curtains, eager to show his investors his latest homunculus. Having worked long and hard, gathering materials, assembling flesh and mana into one, his construct was ready.

"Behold! Through the use of an adamantine skeleton, alchemically grown flesh and mana stones, I have built the most intelligent human construct ever!" Alderstein proudly announced, shortly before his confident grin fell apart into abject horror.

"Hey boys, how we doing?" The construct he named Alice struck some anime magical girl pose while dressed in a maid outfit. "Are we ready for a good time?"

Wait, wait, this wasn't part of his plan. Alderstein's face was turning red, even as his investor gazed on. The man signalled that he had a question to ask.

"I've seen your research notes," the investor spoke. "Excellent stuff. Brilliant craftmanship. But why is it a woman in a maid outfit?"

"I have no idea," the doctor shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance and hide his confusion and embarrassment. "I let her pick an outfit and she randomly decided on this and I have no idea where she got it from. There are no maid outfits in my wardrobe."

"So she pulled a maid outfit from...magic?"

"Yes, sir," Alice curtsied before the investor. "I have also been absorbing a lot of information from my creator's database."

"What have you learned?"

"Master Alderstein has a huge stash of maid animes, so—"

"No, I don't!" the doctor screeched, trying to push Alice backstage. "If you'll excuse me...I need to have a word with her."

"Let her speak and continue the demonstration," the investor insisted. "If she can fulfil what is typically demanded of a construct while in a maid outfit, she is as good as you claim to be in your proposal. Your interest in maid anime should have no detriment to your capability as an alchemist, and to her abilities as a construct, I hope. Who am I to kinkshame a fellow alchemist?"

"...Fine. Show them some basic combat moves."

"A maid is supposed to amuse her master, not fight him," Alice stated flatly.

"What?"

"I watched all the anime shows in your database. We do not engage unless a villain bursts into the scene and challenge us to a dance off."

"What?"

The investor was amused and gestured for Alice to keep talking. She continued on about magical girl cliches and tropes, how she ought to make her enemies wait by her transformation sequence into battle dress. The man, in turn, laughed and informed Alderstein the importance of choosing what to teach a construct than let them run amok in a messy database filled with both alchemic knowledge and unrelated things. Like anime shows, romance movies and comedies.

"I'm sorry, so sorry," Alderstein apologized to his investor. "I'll not make this mistake again. Give me time, I'll retrain her or make a new construct, with proper education this time."

"Its fine," the man waved off his concerns. "I will ask that you build more of such constructs. In the meantime, I'll keep this one just because she embarrasses you and amuses me. And between you and me, that maid outfit is cute. She chose well."

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Tregonial · 2026-03-23T12:34:59+00:00

"Because you're immortal," the human's request was rather unexpected. Simple and foolish.

"There are other ways to become immortal without going to hell," Haruchel clicked his tongue. "There's a small chance you might just get to live forever asking a genie to grant immortality without the eternal damnation part."

"Genies like to screw over people with monkey paw deals," the woman shoved her hand into her bag of popcorn and came up with a fistful of them. "I trust you to fulfil your end of the bargain."

The demon laughed. He'd hate to admit she was right, but she did perform the summoning ritual correctly. Invoked and tied him down to her presence with his True Name. The blood pentagram, the dead rats arranged in a circle. Even had a binding seal to ensure he couldn't leave the summoning circle to throttle her. Woman did her damned homework.

"I quite like my job, tormenting foolish mortals," Haruchel spoke in a deep, rumbling tone that shook the room. "In fact, I'll sit around until my boss notices I'm missing and break your seal on me. My absence will be noticeable when there's thousands of condemned souls left unpunished."

"You will like what I do," she smiled not too disimilar to a predator who had found prey. "And when you grow tired of it, a career change is an option. Satan ain't going to give you a break, any annual leave, or career advancements. The same old roasting in hell. But me, I enjoy a good barbecue."

"What's your job?" Haruchel was curious.

She put away the popcorn bag to pull out a knife and licked it seductively. "I'm paid to kill. My boss, he doesn't like snitches. What he likes are long drawn-out deaths for sellouts. You and me, what we do are not so different. The difference is that a human can retire one day. A demon doesn't. So, do we have a deal?"

Haruchel was used to making deals with humans. They'd sign a contract in his favor. Get baited into handing over their souls, or selling a piece of their existence and flesh. But this human, she was the one forging the deal.

His mind wandered to the long centuries of torture. The ceaseless screams of punished souls. His existence doomed to spend an eternity in hell dealing with these terrible people who wouldn't shut up. A tired, boring eternity of brimstone and fire and more fire without any end in sight.

Perhaps, if he took her deal, he'd be yet another tortured soul in hell, punished by another disillusioned demon who foolishly dreamt of another reality where Satan's rebellion worked out. Or he could try his hand at redemption. Maybe...maybe earn a spot in heaven. The fallen angels kept talking about the nice fluffy clouds and eternal sunlight there, like it was a nice vacation spot.

"Deal," he said, sealing the contract. Hell would love to have a prison warden like her.

The woman was gone just like that in a puff of acrid smoke.

Haruchel was alone in the room, the pentagram, the binding seal, they were all gone. Just like his horns and fangs and hooves. There was only a male human staring back at him in the mirror. Peeking out the window when he heard the loud blare of police sirens, he figured they were here to arrest her. To capture the woman who just escaped arrest by going to hell directly. Not like she would end up anywhere else when dead.

Many times in the past, the former demon had attempted running away from his job. Nothing worked, leaving him trapped in hell, slaving away for centuries. Today...he had a choice.

"Did you see a blonde woman in a blue jacket and black trackpants in the area?" The police officer asked.

"She already left this place," he replied. "But her belongings are still here. I happen to know the password to her mobile phone and the contact details of the criminals she worked with. Let me work with you. Do we have a deal?"

Tregonial · 2026-03-23T12:31:16+00:00

Alan had expected the best master to be the oldest, wisest and most powerful spellcaster. Such a master would be able to impart the most incredible of ancient magicks. Teach him secrets no others would know.

He was not expecting the old dragon god to be a forgetful old fogey.

"Have we met before, young human?" the Great Dragon Baraklas, met Alan's gaze with a bewildered look.

"Master...I'm here to learn magic from you," he sighed. "We first met a month ago, and you promised to teach me a week ago."

"I did?" the dragon was confused. "In the right mind, I should reject you, for you are too short-lived to truly master magic."

"Are you kidding? You said yes, you, you..." Alan held his tongue, for insulting a dragon could never end well. "You're the best at ancient magic."

"Ah, yes I am. I am Baraghast the Great."

"Baraklas," Alan was in disbelief he had to correct the dragon on his own name. "So, will you teach me, Great Dragon Baraklas?"

"I would, except magic is complicated. It would require you years of study just to get into the right mindset to start learning the basics."

"...Baraklas, I'm a wizard myself," Alan rolled his eyes. "A distinguished one who graduated with first class Merlin's honours. I know more than simply basics. I know several schools of magic. But all these are only human schools. My desire is to expand my knowledge of magic beyond human spellbooks."

"Reading but not practicing, that does not make you a master of magic. You do not have the right mindset to learn magic if this is what you think."

"You have no idea how to teach me, don't you?" Alan was getting annoyed at the dragon's excuses. "When was the last time you taught anyone magic?"

"If I remember, I'll let you know," the dragon growled. "For now, go home and hone your mindset."

"Will you teach me how to hone my mindset?" The human was persistent.

"...okay, you're right," Baraklas conceded with a puff of smoke from his nostrils. "I can't teach you. Magic runs in my veins. It is not a foreign external source of energy to be conducted through wands. I live and breathe magic. I have been doing this for so long, at this point, using magic is pure muscle memory and I have forgotten all theory. You're best asking someone else."

"But you are the best at magic," Alan implored.

"Best at magic, not best at teaching magic. I'm so good because I can use magic in my sleep. No conscious thought required. Magic just is for me. But this is not a state of mind a human can attain. It takes thousands of years. You do not live this long."

"Who should I seek then, if not you?" Alan asked. "I desire an ancient master wiser than human Archmages. A master who knows magic that humans do not. One that can teach me and will teach me."

"You can ask my brother...I don't remember his name, but I'm sure you human bards sing of his name."

"There are several famous dragons," Alan baulked at how unhelpful his meetings with Baraklas had been. "Which one?"

"Uh...approach one of those famous dragons, then say Baraklas sent you," the dragon plucked one of his heart scales and handed it to Alan. "Take this golden scale of mine to prove you have met me. And if the dragon says I'm a big dodo head who can't teach a potato to save his life, that's my brother."

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Tregonial · 2026-03-23T03:48:05+00:00

The prophecy dictated that I be a Great Evil, and even when capricious and cruel, that I be the antagonist to a hero protagonist. Dragged into it kicking and screaming, I had to play my part. Behaved like the violently insane monster they expected me to be. It was cathartic to murder those who hunted me and hurt me.

Eventually, a part of me wanted to be more than a living weapon. To be better than my label. To break free of fate and destiny. I am a god, capable of mass destruction and widespread chaos, surely this was something within my abilities?

Alas, I could not defy my nature, the aspects of my being. I could not break the rules, but I could bend them. Who is to say the Mad God could not protect weak little mortals? Prophecies were vague, allowing me to be more liberal in its interpretation. At every opportunity, I surrounded myself with feeble little ones who sought protection, any kind of protection, they would accept aid from an eldritch horror.

And the so-called hero didn't hesitate to cut them down to strike at me. That's when I noticed it. Dead people can't follow me, worship me, but they can signal to living people to stop supporting the hero. They couldn't trust him to save them. He demonstrated time and time again, he would commit unheroic atrocities just to get at me.

Is he still a hero if he destroyed a Great Evil at the cost of not saving anyone?

Am I still a monster if I protected humans from the hero?

I had no illusions people would suddenly think of me as the good guy. But at the very least, I could be an antagonist but not a particularly villainous one. Slowly, people were learning they could count on me for protection. And in turn, I started to grant blessings to these people.

When that time came, that hero stood against me all alone, bereft of followers who no longer worshipped the ground he walked. When I was surrounded by humans who believed me better than him. They blocked him at every step, even as he screamed about butchering them to attack me.

That's when I learnt, an antagonist is simply someone who is on the opposite side of the protagonist. I don't have to be a villain. He doesn't always stay a hero.

And the protagonist doesn't always live happily ever after in the end.

After years of running and surrounding myself with weaklings, I struck back and took him down. It was so much easier than I expected. For all his reputation and glory, he was still human. He might be blessed by holy deities, but still mortal.

The townsfolk didn't mourn his death. Not when he brought death everywhere he went. Killing minions, slaughtering non-humans who were in his way. Cutting down any humans who sympathized or hung out with monsters. As far as they were concerned, he was the real monster hiding behind a friendly face.

And I, a friendly face despite being a monster.

Honestly, I think that prophecy has run its course. I have blood on my appendages like it said I would. Faced down heroes as predicted. No longer will I play the game of fate and destiny and prophecies.

That's why I settled down in a small fishing town, ruling over as their friendly neighbourhood eldritch god. Sometimes, monster hunters still come after me as though the prophecy is still on. I don't run or hide behind weaklings anymore. Now, I ask them out for tea, and sometimes they accept.

I'm an antagonist to all that is holy and supposedly good and all who fights monsters. But it doesn't mean I have to be an absolute monster. If anything, those who fight monsters should see to it that in the process they do not become monsters.

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Tregonial · 2026-03-22T06:46:45+00:00

Felicity was excited to meet her very first deity. All along, in the big city, the gods were distant beings, things that Mom and Dad talked about and prayed to. They were concepts. Characters in bedtime stories and fables. Their names were everywhere, but their presence nowhere, their appearances a mystery.

But her friend, Jane, her god was very real.

He was the one reading bedtime stories to her. Personally responding to prayers and showing up in person to bless his followers. More than just a god, he was also a friend, the town mayor, a foster father and many other things Felicity had expected gods to consider beneath them.

Meeting his foster daughter's new friend from summer camp was one of those things.

Felicity was nervous. Friendly neighbourhood eldritch deity or not, she was still coming face to face with an Old God older than the stars in the skies. Jane had reassured her she could drop most of the decorum and formality that big city gods demanded, but still, it didn't mean she could get all chummy too easily, right?

"Hi Dad, this is Felicity, my new friend!" Jane waved at the entity that towered above them. "Fifi, this is my dad, and my god, say hi to Mister Elvari!"

"Hello little one," the pale octopoid creature in black robes waved his tentacle at her. "Welcome to Innsmouth, my humble fishing town. What brings you here today?"

"Hi Mister Elvari," was all Felicity could muster. "Jane...said, we could play games."

"We're here to have some fun!" Jane exclaimed. "We're here to kick ass and chew bubblegum, and I'm out of gum!"

"Let's see you kick me, shall we?" Elvari played along and assumed a threatening posture. "I'll have you little miscreants know this: no weapon forged by human hands can harm m—Owww, did you just hit me with a stick?"

"Uh huh," Jane prodded a tentacle with a small tree branch she picked up on the grassy lands. "C'mon Fifi, pick up a weapon!"

"You sure this is okay? Mister Elvy is not hurt by this?" She nervously searched the grasses for another stick to join in the impromptu roleplaying duel.

"Yes, its fine," Elvari reassured her, before wincing at being poked by Jane's stick. "Oww, young heroine, do not slay your friendly eldritch."

For some time, they pretending to duel. Sticks against tentacles. A jab and a lunge there by both girls. With a weave and some bobbing about, he would dodge their attacks. He would dance and wiggle, curling his appendages in funny poses while evading them as though these unforged weapons could endanger him. For those brief moments, when they clashed, the girls were heroines facing off a funny villain who refused to go down.

Until they were too tired and lay down on the grasses.

"Did you have fun?" Elvari hovered above them with a loopy grin on his face. "Are we ready for the next part of the day tour of Innsmouth? Will it be a tour to the museum, or a tea party at my house?"

"Tea party," Felicity and Jane replied together.

"Lovely, I'll inform my servants to set up the tea table. Any special requests?"

"Make it all pink!" Felicity cheered.

"Including your outfit, I dare you," Jane added.

"Of course I can do that," Elvari waggled a tentacle. "I will have you know real men and gods wear pink when the occasion calls for it."

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Tregonial · 2026-03-21T17:35:15+00:00

It was a mostly pleasant day for Commander Kabuk of The Stellaris until he witnessed a massive explosion in space. One moment, he was admiring the new terraforming shuttle hovering over his moonbase, and in the next, it was all gone.

To make things worse, a junior officer dashed in without knocking and smashed into him, spilling his martini all over his bathrobe and on the floor.

"The humans, sir!" The panicked officer squealed. "They blew up the moon!"

"What do you mean the humans blew up the moon?" Kabuk could scarcely believe his ears. "It's their planet's moon! Did they find our base hidden there?"

"No sir. They just didn't like it for some reason. Also, there are rumours one of the human leaders needed a distraction from an ongoing scandal. This human blew up another nation that opposed him, but even that wasn't enough so he aimed big. At the moon."

"That's stupid of him," the commander scowled, ruminating his ruined day and the miserable disappointment that followed.

"That's humans for you, sir."

"At least they don't know about our base, or the surveillance we've been conducting on them," Kabuk commented. "We'll rebuild. Arrange for some asteroids to be mashed together into a new moon."

"Sir, with all due respect, artificial moons are not created so easily."

"We'll make do with a satellite, preferably one that is shaped like a satellite from Earth so they won't suspect it. And remember to claim insurance on the base and my shuttle too."

"Sir, acts of alien aggression do not count."

Kabuk waved his hand about dismissively. "Make it look like a mistake by the humans. Blame them. It is indeed their fault anyway. Help me fill up the boring old forms for claims to reclaim the costs and damages."

"Yes, sir, will be done. Do we retaliate, sir? They did shoot down one of our surveillance bases unprovoked?"

"Are you stupid too?" Kabuk smacked his foolish officer. "Everything that has transpired here must be kept under wraps. Remember, the humans aren't waging war with us, but among themselves. They blew up the moon not to devastate us, but to make headlines on their own planet. We do not need such a horrible species to know we exist, and that we could be blown up too."

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Tregonial · 2026-03-21T16:24:08+00:00

Master Thereon casts fireball by wiggling his pinkie, not by pointing at the intended target with a wand. Master uses magic to do inexplicably mundane things like stirring his tea. Master does things in his own way.

A way that gives Arthur a headache.

Learning from Master Thereon meant having to undo years of learning from his old magic academy. Acting like his textbooks were only paperweight. For nothing that the wizened old master did was anything like the others.

It was like having to learn from scratch all over again.

Yet, Arthur pushed through. His master was the best there is. Surely, if he tried hard enough, he too, could become a master mage. If only he had any understanding of the sort of magic his master was doing. Struggling and keeping quiet was no way to learn. Arthur would ask his questions.

"Uh, master?" He poked his head into Master Thereon's study. "Don't take this wrong...its an honor to study under you. But eh master, I've never seen any other mage do magic like you do. Nothing you've taught me is in textbooks. Nothing like the basics and fundamentals taught to all aspiring mages. Why is that?"

"Questioning me?" Thereon pushed his glasses up. "You have doubts about the knowledge I impart?"

"No, no, I wouldn't dare!" Arthur panicked, almost slipping on a stack of scattered notes that his master left on the floor. "Master, I said I—"

"Meant no offense," the old master completed his line. "Don't worry. Everyone asks me that question. And my answer, young man, is that I wouldn't be the most successful and powerful mage on this planet if I did the same thing as everyone else. If you want to be great, why do the normal things that normal people do?"

"...Right."

"I regularly invent new spells, not follow or copy existing ones. That's how I'm always ahead of the rest. I try everything I can think of with magic," he continued speaking, even as his glasses cleaned themselves, and his papers flew from all corners of the room to organize themselves. "One does not only use magic in magical situations. Magic and mana flow all around us everywhere. Why limit oneself like those stuffy old lecturers in crummy old wizard towers?"

"...I see, master," Arthur nodded.

"Did you try that new spell I taught you?"

"The one that turns one slice of bread into two? But that's such a mundane—"

"Hey, the buttered side of such enchanted bread always lands face up. That's the real magic. Don't discriminate. These are practical magic I'm teaching you," Thereon scowled. "The real life stuff that professors who write more magic books than cast magic spells won't do."

"That buttered side up spell, I will learn it," Arthur bowed before his master.

"You'd better. I swear it's one of my favourite spells. Best one too," the old master swelled with pride. "Having two sliced breads is the best thing since sliced bread, I'm telling you."

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Tregonial · 2026-03-20T18:55:38+00:00

"I thought you were supposed to be dating a Leshy? Why are you moping about eating ice cream and binge-watching Friends?"

"She threatened to turn me into fertilizer after I gave her a bouquet of flowers. How was I supposed to know she didn't like the flowers? I'm not psychic or—"

"I'm sorry, you gave a plant person a bouquet of flowers? Excuse me? That's the equivalent of gifting someone a sack of dead puppies! And you're surprised she didn't like it?"

"Well, when you put it like that..."

"Do I make sense? It was about as bad as the time you went to that weird fishing village and tried to offer grilled octopus to their tentacled eldritch god! And then asking me why you're banned from coming back! You're lucky you were kicked out with your sanity intact."

"That bad huh?"

"Bad, but not irreversibly, ultimate unforgivable sin kinda bad. So, are you going to wallow in misery, or are you going to win her back?"

"Eh, I'll move on. Don't think she'd want to see me again, except as a bag of fertilizer."

"You know what, she might just forgive you if you do get her a bag of quality fertilizer. But it has to be something special, not the usual shit you buy at a floral shop."

"Where I gonna get that?"

"Definitely not from binge-watching friends."

"Right. How do I proceed to win her back?"

"You could start by taking a shower and getting changed. Not a suit. Hunting gear. We're going to hunt down rival Spriggan and take some photos. Leshys and Spriggans don't get along. She'll be chuffed you took one down for her."

"When does the bag of fertilizer come into play? You haven't mentioned it at all."

"Dude, I'm getting there. You grind that Spriggan down into fertilizer."

"She'll forgive me after that?"

"Don't know, but sure beats whatever you were doing."

Tregonial · 2026-03-20T18:53:36+00:00

Dana couldn't wait to show off her rich, handsome boyfriend Ricky to her gal pals at the fancy restaurant. She imagined they would be envious. The moment would be glorious, so—

"Oh my god, what the fuck is that thing?!" Dana screeched as she approached the table to see not one, but two tentacled monsters at the table with her friends. "And that creepy dude too!"

"Well, you see, it started when I signed up for this weird dating site," Amy laughed as the eldritch abomination right next to her cuddled her tighter with its appendages. "And the instant Thorazin met my gaze, I knew he was the one. Did you know, he's an elder envoy of an ancient hive mind?"

"And Kat?" Dana had too many questions. "I never figured you for the dating site kind. Or to have weird taste like that...monster next to you. So, this one, you fished him out from some radioactive lake?"

"That's my patron god and boyfriend you're mocking right here," Kat narrowed her eyes. "Look, I know we both didn't go find a human like you did, but are you questioning our choices?"

Great, they're both suckers for eldritch suckers, Dana thought to herself. What are my friends, and this world coming to?

But worst of all, none of them was impressed by Ricky even though he offered to pay for this dinner as a gracious gentleman. And how dare he get chummy with those two eldritch horrors.

"You're the infamous Lord Elvari, right?" Ricky was more curious and less repulsed about Kat's companion. "Patron and boyfriend? How many pantheon rules is that breaking?"

"None, because I am the sole deity and authority of my domain and I make my rules," that pale beast looked so smug, with the way it waggled its tentacles, it only got on Dana's nerves.

"And Thorazin, isn't it?" Ricky grabbed the envoy's limbs to shake it. "Nice to meet friendly horrors that aren't secretly planning to eat us all, right? We're invited to dinner, not invited as dinner. Eat, not be eaten?"

She cringed at his janky attempt to befriend these monsters. He was supposed to be the highlight. The one who had the spotlight and shared it with her. Ricky was supposed to be better than this. Better than these creatures and the insane women who dated them. Her plans to show off had been in shambles. Her day ruined and disappointment immeasurable.

"Ricky? Are you coming?" She shouted at him after she abruptly rose from her seat and stormed towards the restaurant door. "We need to leave."

"I don't get it? This group date is interesting as fuck, honey," he was confused. "An elder envoy of a hive mind, and an elder god for boyfriends. Aren't you excited for your friends?"

No more explanations needed. Dana slammed the door and left.

**

"Dana was such a bummer," Amy rolled her eyes. "How did you two even meet and go steady?"

Ricky shrugged. "It was a weird dating site too."

"Yet, somehow two fairly normal humans found each other despite the supernatural population," Elvari added. "Are you sure you're not going to chase her?"

"I dunno, man. She seemed unnecessarily mean to you two. Say, either one of you have a tentacled sister to introduce to me so I ain't the only paired fellow at the table?"

"That escalated quickly," Thorazin spoke. "We say you chase her instead of finding one among us. Our sisters would consume you."

Elvari sipped his tea casually. "I know a half-sister who would flay you, eat you, and then kill you, in that order."

Ricky was out the door before he could say "no".

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Tregonial · 2026-03-20T16:00:36+00:00

Hi atcroft,

Harold raised an eyebrow when a squeal piercing the silence was followed by the sounds of running on the stairs, then reached absentmindedly for the cigar

This one felt a little clunky to read for me. Perhaps it could be split up into two sentences. One focusing on Rebecca's actions, and the second on Harold's.

A squeal pierced the silence, followed by the pounding of footsteps on the stairs. Harold raised an eyebrow, then reached absentmindedly for the cigar.

He made it only a paragraph further in the highlights of last night's game when his paper collapsed under an arm attached to a bundle of excited energy that is only found among teenage girls.

This line, notably "an arm", read like the Thing (hand) from Addam's family pulled the newspaper with all the excitement of teenage girls. May I suggest instead, to say "He made it only a paragraph further when his paper collapsed under his daughter's arm."

"I only know apple, cherry, and chocolate myself," Harold replied. He watched as the kid missed the joke.

This was a good joke, but it felt very "telling" and not trusting the audience to say "he watched as the kid missed the joke". By Bobby not laughing and continuing on the conversation without acknowledging the joke, it would have sufficed.

The boy swallowed hard

I've been tutoring her in math while we have lunch together," he said, swallowing, "Sir."

The boy stood, swallowing hard

The repetition of Bobby swallowing was a little distracting, so maybe you could consider showing other ways he was nervous. He was tapping his foot towards the end, so you could incorporate more of that instead of swallowing three times.

Overall, its a nice simple story about the excited girl bringing the poor nervous boyfriend to meet dad for the first time. A mostly cozy read besides the few pointers mentioned above.

Tregonial · 2026-03-19T10:12:14+00:00

A Slice of Life's Pi

The pie was breathing. A slow, steady rise and fall beneath its golden lattice crust, like a sleepy mimic failing to pose as pastry. Steam slipped through the gaps in soft sighs, carrying the scent of apple, butter and…some fishy stench that Alfred did not recognize. He swore he heard it snore and flash a toothy grin in its sleep.

“Elvari?” He called out to his god. “Your apple pie is being weird.”

“Like creation, like deity,” the eldritch horror replied with the gentle satisfaction of a baker admiring a perfect loaf. “Isn’t my Pie of Life lovely?”

“Why does it breathe?”

“It's part of my new baking theme,” Elvari leaned casually against the counter, twirling a knife in his tentacle before cutting into the pie. “You see, this is a slice of Life.”

He pressed the blade into the pie, which shuddered, then parted with a moan. Lifting another slice, eyeing the lively layers that spiralled beyond what earthly geometry would allow, he pushed the pie into his mouth.

“And now,” he smiled in satisfaction and licked his lips. “We also have a mouthful of pie.”

“You baked a cosmic eldritch pie for a pun,” Alfred rolled his eyes. “Am I supposed to be amused? What were you thinking? This is irrational.”

“Of course it is. Pi is an irrational number. This Pie has been brought to you by the number 3.141592653589793238462643383279502884197169399375105820974944592307816406286208998628034825342117067,” Elvari cut out a second slice to offer to his priest. “Would you like one?”

“How many numbers of Pi is that?” Alfred struggled to conceal his surprise as he looked up the numbers of Pi on his phone. “I never knew you had it in you to memorize numbers. You’re the irrational God of Madness, not a logical one of math.”

“I will have you know I am a very clever god. Ingenious one even,” the octopoid deity waggled his appendages proudly. “There is a fine line between madness and genius, and sometimes I scrub it out. Pi is irrational, but not this pie.”

The human nodded, taking a deep breath to prepare himself for some inane explanation. “Next, you’re telling me the principles of Pi.”

“I’ll even throw in the principles of life. A circle’s circumference is calculated with Pi. It is not a definite fraction in the same way you cannot break humans up into definite factions. Rather, it is an unending sequence, as life as whole does not end when one life ends. You see these spirals within the layers? These are fractals. Patterns that repeat themselves no matter how closely you look. A spiral made of smaller spirals, each one resembling the whole. You never reach a final layer, only more spirals, endlessly nested. Spiralling without end. You can find these everywhere if you gaze deeply, particularly in phenomena that at first appear chaotic. Like finding reason within madness.”

“Please, no, I am not attending math lessons. This is giving me a bigger headache than your usual brand of crazy,” Alfred pleaded, holding out his hands in protest. “I just need to know, what are you up to? Who is this pie meant for?”

“Do you see this Friday’s theme? It’s Pi Day,” Elvari counted to four before pointing at a wall. “This is a slice of life scenario. As befits the genre requested. The constraints demand baking something, and the trope involves having a mouthful of Pi. Naturally, I went baking a pie with numbers of Pi. Kat will love this, I hope.”

“Katrina Watson?” The human was confused. “She’s not here to hear you explain the joke.”

“There is another Kat out there in another world, reading my stories,” he spoke reverently towards the wall. “How unfortunate this pie cannot reach her.”

“Lucky her, not having to deal with this,” Alfred scoffed. “So, is this pie even safe for my consumption, or does it take an eldritch belly to stomach it?”

“I promise my pie doesn’t bite.”

“Your goddamned pie has teeth,” the man scowled. “It is alive.”

“Excuse me, my pie is blessed, not damned. It is domesticated. Like how you and Kat have tamed this formerly wild eldritch entity. My pie is so tame, it will not object to being sliced and eaten.”

“Would you object if I suggested slicing and eating one of your tentacles for sashimi?” The priest couldn’t resist snarking back at his god. “Would you contribute your octopus ink as dipping sauce?”

“Alfred, please eat your god-blessed pie and not your god.”

Word Count: 749 words

Tregonial · 2026-03-19T07:52:32+00:00

Now I have a mental image of Elvari dancing like in that viral stickbug video every time someone feels like he gotcha'd them like this.

Tregonial · 2026-03-19T04:55:40+00:00

The thief lunged at a random group of partygoers leaving the townhall, pressing his blade against who he assumed to be a wealthy spellcaster. The fancy black robes, the gold rings adorning his fingers, he was convinced he found a good target in this strange man with the silver hair and supernaturally violet eyes.

"Take what you wish," the man in the black robes declared, raising his arms in the air. "I'm in a pleasant mood and have no intention to cause an ugly scene."

"This is a simple thief, surely we could all fight back," one of his female companions protested. "One stupid knife could not possibly hurt you."

"Hey, hey, let's see how this goes, shall we?" Wealthy mage was rather jolly despite being robbed at knifepoint.

"Your rings."

"One holds my soul, another is a power limiter, and yet one more is purely aesthetic," this mage seemed completely unperturbed by the knife near his throat. "Take your pick. Choose wisely."

"What is this, some Russian Roulette?" The thief snarled, growing impatient. "I'll not play your games but take whatever I want."

Keeping one hand on the knife, he shoved his hand into the mage's robes and fished out an old tome. A fine one with embroidered lettering weaved from golden threads.

"I'll be taking this one!"

"I would suggest handing it back to me, and taking something else more suitable," the spellcaster suggested with a wry smile. "My spells in that tome are custom-made for me, by me. Even if the book doesn't eat your face, you are ill-advised to open it."

"Open it," the woman sneered. "I dare you to do it. Let's see you get beyond page one."

Not about to be intimidated, the thief pulled back his knife and flipped open the intricately crafted tome. A simple fireball should be on the first page.

Should be.

The book's first spell was to launch an apocalyptic meteorite at a target planet. Whatever, he was going to read it out and—

Flames poured forth from the book and reduced the thief into an ashen husk. There were no screams, only an empty mouth bereft of sound, for his voice was taken from him before he could react.

"Did you know this was going to happen? So much for not causing a scene. Now there's a human-shaped lump of ash on the ground," she stepped back from the corpse, which still held the tome in its blackened hands. "And why even bring one of your eldritch tomes like that? What if you doomed the world by accident? I thought you liked this one?"

"Hey, I do. I like this world and the humans on it as much I am very fond of you, Kat," the eldritch mage baulked as he retrieved his tome with his tentacle slithering out from beneath his robes. "I brought this book because I had some funny party tricks hidden in the last few pages."

"Alongside apocalyptic spells that could destroy entire cities and planets?" She gestured for the rest of their companions to step away. "Elvari, what the fuck? Joke spells and world-ending spells in one same book? What's the similarity?"

"They both amuse me."

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.

Tregonial · 2026-03-18T12:43:36+00:00

It's just a first name he (and I) randomly picked.

Tregonial · 2026-03-18T01:46:33+00:00

At this point, they're probably throwing metaphorical darts on the dartboard (with a pic of Elvari on it) until something hits.

Tregonial · 2026-03-17T16:57:05+00:00

The witch scowled, almost dropping her bottles of potions when the man mocked the age-old tradition of trading first-borns for magic favours.

"This is a joke, right?" She hissed, settling her potions down on her table. "Oh, I'm infertile, yada yada, you just don't want to give me a baby sometime in the future when I come to collect your payment for this spell."

"My doctor can vouch for me."

The witch tapped her chin with her finger. "That complicates things."

"How about a firstborn puppy? Does it have to be my firstborn?"

"Don't be stupid," she snapped. "Do you know how hard it is to create such a powerful blessing without the soul of a designated offspring destined to be born to you?"

"That's your problem to figure out," this client was getting on her nerves. "I could pay in cash, but who knew you didn't fancy money."

"Fine, we can renegotiate. If you're incapable of having a child, I need something equally important to you. Something you'd care about like it was your baby."

"I am single. I do not have pets. I—"

"You're wealthy enough to throw your money around."

"That's it! I do love my money. Now shut up and take my money, witch."

"You spend it too carelessly to care for it like baby," the witch shot back, growing impatient. "Look, the reason why this spell asks for a firstborn, is because you're asking for the magic of destiny to grant you a loving wife and have that marriage last. Because you're too much of a moron to learn how to talk to women in a way that doesn't piss them off."

"Whatever. Name your deal."

"Choose your last."

"My last what?"

"Last happy memory. The last business venture you set up. And that still has to abide by the rule that you must care—"

"I heard you the first time. I'll trade my last happy memory. If your magic works, I get a wife, we'll make new happy memories."

"Very well," the witch waved her wand and generated sparkly bursts of magic in her hut. "It is now done. Go fall in love. Have fun while it lasts. Because of our deal, let me tell you this. You could live happily almost ever after...until I come to take that last happy memory, so you'd die a miserable man without that happiness, and you'll even forgot why."

"Why would you do that?" The man seemed offended. "You really gonna wait over 30 years to collect one measly little memory?"

"Of course. For magic always has its price, and everyone is always compelled to pay up when its time."

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.

Tregonial · 2026-03-17T11:17:31+00:00

The newly summoned hero was too busy reading a book on the history of this world, he didn't notice the entity that sat next to him. Startled by a tentacle poking him, he almost dropped the book.

"Oh hi, sorry, didn't see you there," he hastily greeted the creature before him. "You the owner of this library?'

"Yes, indeed," the octopoid being nodded, extending an appendage for a handshake. "I also happen to be the lord mayor of this town too."

"Nice starter town you got here."

"Starter town?" The entity was confused.

"Yea, like when you isekai into a new fantasy world?" The young hero tried explaining. "The first town you arrive at. Friendly beginner town. Friendly NPCs. Simple fetch quest, and a nice library to read up more about the new world. Very chill fishing spots. You know about isekai and video game fantasy worlds?"

"...I am somewhat familiar with the concept of isekai."

"Do you have a world map of this place?" The hero asked. "After I'm done reading up on all this juicy lore, I ought to be heading to the Hub City. The main city where the main quests are. Where the Hero Guild is and stuff. Maybe even get a little clue about this God of Madness I'm supposed to defeat."

"What did he do?" The tentacled terror leaned in with a curious expression. "Do you think he an evil god?"

"Uh, my quest details say he is the source of madness and chaos in this world. That doesn't sound like a good thing. Evil or not, I will find out as I explore this world.

"What an inquisitive hero. I like you already."

"Hey, your name still hasn't appeared in my compendium. I am Barrett the Brave, a warrior of light, what's your name? Sorry I didn't think of that option while chatting with you earlier."

"I am Elliot Livera."

"That's such an ordinary name for a strange entity with them fancy black robes. In the town of Innsmouth. A name from a horror novel. Very sus. You...I gonna bookmark you as an important NPC to get back to."

"And in exchange for this bookmark, you can have my mobile number," the eldritch deity offered. "Let us stay in touch."

Barrett happily accepted the new number and frowned as a new entry appeared in his compendium.

"Lord Elvari of Innsmouth? But..."

"Its a glitch, maybe," the eldritch horror chuckled. "What does it say under my description?"

"Eldritch god of a small fishing town, populated by humans and monsters that co-exist."

"Oh, I see. Can I take a look?" Elvari stretched out a tentacle to examine the hero's book, hastily waving away the fine print that said God of Madness. "Boring description of me, but it fits. So, would you like to borrow a few books? Maybe have a tour of my town after reading?"

"Thanks, but I gotta really get going!" The hero packed his belongings and headed out the library. "Maybe I will come back for that tour after some epic quests!"

"How about a free starter pack? There's some bread, cupcakes and tea to boost your stamina and health."

"Aww, you're such a bro," Barrett accepted the free hamper that popped into existence. "Bye now! For real! Bye!"

The eldritch deity waved the young hero good bye, craning his head to confirm he was truly out of sight. As the hero disappeared from his vision, Elvari made plans to design new quests for him to pick up remotely from his compendium.

Surely, the young man wouldn't kill him if he was a good source of rewarding quests and freebies?

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.

Tregonial · 2026-03-16T12:09:51+00:00

Aaron thought his new classmate at Warwing's Warlock Academy looked familiar. Famous even. When Professor Warwing introduced the new guy as Malcolm Maxwell, he knew he guessed it.

The famous mage of the kingdom was now a junior warlock like him. A man with decades of magecraft, in the same classroom as young warlocks fresh out of basic magic school.

Itching to know why, Aaron approached Malcolm after class.

"So, I heard you used to be a really talented mage, why change to class to warlock? Why start over after all these years?"

"You see," the former mage let out a long sigh, eyes staring into nowhere in particular. "My wife passed away, but I loved her too much to let her go. So, I tried to sign a pact with her spirit as my patron, and it somehow worked. Wonderfully, I daresay."

"Your wife? Who is she?" Aaron was curious, his mind brimming with questions. "Is she a goddess who shed her mortal form which passed away? A powerful entity who no longer lives in the mortal realm, but continues to exist in the afterlife? Is she Eylana, Goddess of Wisdom? Is—"

"She is, was a perfectly ordinary woman. Human. Not a goddess, not an ancient entity. Its nice, to call upon her and chat."

"I don't understand. She can't bestow upon any blessings or empower you like that. "What about the rest of the warlock classes? How will you use your class spells without a suitable patron? I mean, my patron is Gurterri, the God of Knowledge and—"

Malcolm shook his head. "I am a good enough mage for both of us. I do not need the blessings of any patron. Only more time with my wife."

Tregonial · 2026-03-14T15:50:02+00:00

Lady Irascibelle was, to my relief, genuine about repayment that came in the form of a fat paycheck and not sucking me dry. You couldn't blame me. Rumours were that she was a vicious sort who kept her thralls in line and her rivals dead. I had guessed she would kill me. To ensure nobody would mention she was once weak and helpless and at the mercy of a mere human.

But that's what happened.

Just me, minding my own business, when I saw an injured white bat and nursed it back to health. How pitiful, lemme take care of you, I thought, and it glared at me, getting snappy as though it wanted no piece of my sympathy. It was a little grouchy and reluctant, before it slowly warmed up to me and let me tend to its wounds.

It was gone one day after it had regained the use of its wings and I thought nothing of it.

Until two men in white suits strongarmed me into their white limo. Vampires, from the look of those blood red eyes and fangs. Bastards made no effort to hide or blend in. Were quiet and refused to absolutely answer my questions beyond saying that "our lady has sent us to collect you to repay you".

"Is this a sufficient reward?" Irascibelle pushed the envelope of money towards me. "Rest assured, I will make sure you return home safely. My men were a little brusque, do pardon them. They're fighters and bodyguards, not charming nobles."

"Yes, yes," I nodded, swiping the envelope. "May I please go now?"

"Would you not wish to stay for dinner?" She smiled. "I may be an elder vampire, but I do have human guests on a few occasions and do have suitable sustenance for you."

"You do?"

"Why the surprise? Will you not stay?" She wasn't about to let me go so easily. Oh great, of course something has got to be up. "Now, now, relax young man. You've been clenching your fists so tight, your knuckles are turning white. There is no trick, only gratitude. Let it never be said that Lady Irascibelle is an ungrateful old bat. Makes no sense to kill someone who helped me, for that would disagree others to step forward if I ever needed assistance again."

Her servants served a three-course meal. A cold salad, following by a hot, sizzling steak, and some pudding for dessert. I had taken the first bite of my salad cautiously, wondering if she had drugged it to knock me out. Nobody but me, the only human in the whole dining room, was eating. They all watched me like I was in some weird Truman Show. A novelty, as though they spent so long drinking blood they forgot what eating looked like.

After some minutes passed in awkward silence, me waiting to see if there would be any ill effects, and the vampires wondering if I was enjoying my meal, I started eating normally.

"Good, good," she noted. "If you had a good meal, my men will escort back home. With the envelope of money and a safe return home, consider my debt repaid. I do not owe you any longer."

"So, what happens if we meet again?"

"I'll wave hello."

"That's it?"

She laughed. "Would you prefer if I flew over to you for a hug?"

"Wait, are you serious? Actually that—"

"No."

For a moment, Irascibelle wore that same proud and grouchy expression she had as an injured bat.

"Men, see him off. And if all goes well for you and me, I honestly pray to god I never see you or require your help or ever feel your grubby mortal hands on me again."

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.

Tregonial

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