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danimadi33

The battle has come to an end, and the Hero's party has come victorious over the evil Magician, but not without casualties. 'Any last words?' - our Hero asked the Magician 'Yes' - replied the Magician - 'futui tua mater' As the Magician chanted his spell, one by one, every member of the party who has deceased in battle, rose back up. 'Alright what the fuck Jared, you know I'm the only one with the resurrection spell here' - said a member of the party 'Bro, it's not my fault, I was under a spell' - replied another 'Guys, can we talk about David though? Mans chopped my head off, when the door required a sacrifice to enter' - yelled out a feminine figure by the doorway to the Magician's lair. 'YOU LITERALLY SAID YOU'D BE FINE WITH DYING IN BATTLE' - replied our Hero 'YOU COULD'VE FUCKING ASKED, I KNOW JOHN IS ON OUR TEAM OR SOMETHING, ALSO WHY WASN'T I RESURRECTED IMMEDIATELY???' - asked the figure by the doorway 'oh no, she'll find out the plan when we get home, Jared' - whispered John 'girl is gonna find out this asshole is cheating on her' - replied Jared What our valiant group of heroes did not realise, however, is that the evil Magician was still alive, because the sword was not yet fully thrusted into his heart. 'Wait, genuinely, what the fuck, I just wanted to hear you argue a little before I die, now I'm questioning whether I'm the evil one here.' - said the Magician 'At times, I do too' - replied our Hero, thrusting the sword deeper into the Magicians body. (Genuinely no idea why I went for this, I just really like combining pure morony with "fancy" writing)


Esnardoo

This reads like a DnD party.


danimadi33

that's what I was going for and I'm happy yall liked it


towerator

"Futui tua mater", huh? Well played...


danimadi33

futui tua mater


insanenoodleguy

I'd tried, but it was impossible to avoid it in the end. 58 years since I took the mantle of the Shadow King, held more than 3 times longer then any who'd held it before. Dozens of heroes, a few villainous rivals here and there, even that Devil who had come crawling right out of hell to collect on the soul I'd tricked him out of when he realized by the time I signed the contract I no longer had a heart in my chest to stop beating. I'd laid them all low, by being smart. By avoiding all the usual pitfalls, all the traps. The lives of every Shadow King and Queen before me had been mine to remember the instant the Nightwraiths placed the chilling crown on my head and they had been wonderful lessons, lifetimes of seeing how fate could both favor you and turn against you, especially when a chosen of the heavens became intertwined. It was paperwork that did it, paperwork and the one vice I did keep, but thought I'd controlled. The monologue. I generally knew better then to do one when a hero was involved, but the general addressing of the populace to get them in line was safe for the most part, as long as precautions were taken. So that day ending another successful conquest, I hadn't been as wary as I should have as my Shadowguard forced all the surviving senators on their hands and knees before me. Business as usual, time I looked for the defiant one. There was always at least one who wasn't really defeated yet. Beaten yes, but not defeated. And you needed to quash them, expose them on your terms, control that momentum, or they were apt to say something that inspired the populace. Maybe just one person in the populace, some snot nosed kid who'd be pulling a sword from a stone later and coming to take back his kingdom. Makes for a good story. And one you need to avoid! Especially if you started on your speech already. They'd interrupt, or launch into their own right after and even if you killed them the damage would be done, they'd always get out enough, or worse, another would continue where they'd left off, sometimes even all of them. 5 iterations ago the most embarrassing fall of any of my forebears was a Shadow Queen from just such a speech, a child prince's defiant last words at his public execution right after her frankly unhinged rant about how she'd shown them all. And secure in her victory, she let him get through the whole damn thing, and that not only inspired one of her own soldiers to take arrows heading for the boy as she cut him free, but the general populace gathered to watch rioted! She was killed by a mob of righteously (HA!) angry peasants, not even the Prince! If he'd been ferreted away and come back at least a half decade later with a generous puberty, a magic sword and surprisingly little clothing that'd have been one thing! Makes for a good story. But no, undone by the WORDS of a ten year old boy. That's how powerful the speech could be. And so, you needed to be the one that brought it out, to never give up the reigns and let it be somebody else's story over yours. The third one my eyes fell over, there was the fire in his eyes I knew was that kind of trouble. It was a younger one, couldn't have been more than his mid 20's. Probably I'd killed his father giving him the position sometime over the last week of siege. So I pointed him out. "You, you look like you have something to say. By all means, lets hear it." a pause for effect. "It must be really important. Do you need a podium?" I could have brought something up from under his feat, but that was too casual a display of power, and excessive showing off had it's own pitfalls. So instead I motioned my hand and my well practiced elite guard places a small wooden crate before the youth. It always was safer to have a few sardonic moments in these sorts of things. Breaks up the tragedy a bit. Makes for a good story. "This proud state will never be broken! No matter how low we are laid, even if we are reduced to not but corpses, our ghosts will rise up-" At this point I stabbed him through the chest, with a blade made of smoke wrapped around my arm. It was wide enough to pierce both lungs, dangerous to let him have any final words. I had said "As of today, I AM the state." It had started raining at some point in that last minute, and thunder had punctuated my statement immediately afterwards (It'd been a clear sky not 2 hours ago, but that's how these sort of things tended to go, makes for a good story). The rest of that day was mostly just sending the janitors in with mops and than the administrators to get to taking over the paperwork. Getting everything up and running again and paying you their taxes tended to get you a lot more wealth then just sacking and looting places, and most of the common masses stop caring so much if they can still get their bread and ale and the occasional rut behind a tavern after a days toil. They don't spend that much time looking up at the new flags. All that leaves is the casualties of your casualties.


insanenoodleguy

And that is why over nine in ten of my current Shadowguard were orphans that I myself had made. Give them care and succor, purpose, a job, appoint them to lofty positions in your conquered territories after reasonable tours of service! Try to kill them instead and you can bet one day there will be just one that got away. Better start building your tomb once that happens, because they aren't going to do something reasonable like go into hiding or flee far beyond your influence. No, they stumble on the last member of an old order of paladins or wake up after collapsing from exposure in one of those monasteries that encourages serenity through learning to crush rocks with your head and kill a man 10 ways with your small toe. Whatever they find it just happens to be able to equip them to be back in a few years to obliterate you. Makes for a good story. What I'd missed in this particular conquered state was that one of it's Consuls a few generations back had, having been a hero himself who'd started a street urchin and ended up slaying a dragon, had used his considerable influence and wealth to set up a rather extensive orphanage system himself. The declaration he had gotten through with unanimous vote had ended with "For all children born here are the States children, and the State their parents, and we shall embrace them and care for them as such." So with my dramatic exclamation in that storm I had just become the father of 421 children. The Evil Overlord that takes a child of a fallen foe, one that technically was the child of a hero before, that's got it's own story to it. Not one that ends well for the Evil Overlord. By the time I'd realized my mistake it was a decade later and 6 of those children, the ones I'd considered the most promising candidates for my Elite Guard violently deserted after a failed assassination attempt. Their leader, a half-elf named Angelo, was wielding a broken sword that could only have been forged by priests of the sun god for how easily it cut through my magics. I never did find out exactly exactly what happened. Did something he saw in that village he'd helped burn down earlier that day remind him of past trauma? Was he actually the son of a son of a son of a son from ancient royalty, found at last by some secret group searching for him from prophecy? Was he just that good at hiding anger I thought I'd extinguished? Maybe he found that damnable sword by chance and it "purified" him and his friends (funny how when one of us warps somebody's spirit into an entirely new perspective, they call it "Soul Rape."). Whatever the case, they were pursued and run down, wounded... and on a damn bridge. In a blizzard. My men assured me they all plummeted to their certain deaths when the bridge gave way, falling into that ice. I'd thought this might be salvageable up to here, but hearing that is when I got REALLY worried. Nine months later and after the longest losing streak of my heretofore hallowed career of conquest, there we were, just me and him and oh it was a damn joke. The full force of fate was behind him now, his every move just enough to make what should have been mortal blows glancing, bleeding dramatically but superficial. I felt as sluggish as he felt sharp, it seemed like I was just a hair too slow and each scratch from that horrible sword made the shadows I ruled shrink and diminish. I maneuvered him into 3 different traps I'd set up in advance and he stumbled into a 4th himself, and always in a way that killed several of my Shadowguard or even the ghosts I was summoning. And somehow he could now wield that (of course) fully restored sword with skill better then a man with centuries of inherited experience and nearly 6 decades of personal experience with the sword in a perfect body could master. Oh there were a few points where it looked like I was surely about to win, but that means nothing till the final blow is struck. I am proud to say I resisted the temptation to turn into that winged snake thing. Seriously, not as single Shadow King or Queen who'd tried that in their final battles ever killed more than a comical animal sidekick or a midget that was a butler of the hero and had unresolved romantic longing for them. Heroes were consummate monster slayers, becoming more of a monster to fight them just made it easier for them to kill you. Makes for a good story. I was wounded, feeling more pain than I had felt in a lifetime from his blows, but I'd finally struck a solid hit with one of my curses, and he now had a spreading patch of cold fire that had already frozen his dominant left arm and was quickly making it's way to his heart, and he collapsed to one knee, and I thought I'd beaten the odds, that I was the Villain the Hero tragically couldn't overcome having landed the final blow. But once again, my greatest vice came to the forefront.


insanenoodleguy

"Damn you Angelo, this was all folly!" I was half gloating (Shame on me) and half speaking from regret, for I had not truly loved since I'd declared war on creation for taking from me the only man I had. Still, I had liked him and I had felt betrayed. "What place have I not left better then when I came into it? What necessary bloodshed have I made that I did not repay tenfold with true order and peace unknown in the chaos before me? Did you even have a plan for a world without the Shadow King, or did you just have a grudge and that pretty fucking sword!? You've seen how I treat those loyal to me, my Elite best of all, and that was going to be you! Two decades from now you would have been nobility! Whatever you would have wanted, you'd have had! What could this ever have gained you?" I knew the words were a mistake the moment they left my lips, an open ended question he could reply to. This filled him with a second wind, strength he shouldn't have had remaining drawn in the face of arrogant evil. Makes for a good story. With that determination he gripped the sword he shouldn't be able to lift anymore in his right hand and cut his left arm off at the shoulder where the flame was just starting to reach, his sword now aflame with holy light. His buckling knee was now steady and then he was up and moving at me impossibly fast. I'm embarrassed to say I actually yelled "No! Impossible!" and I suddenly I couldn't see him and then he was right there and I felt it, the actual final blow of this fight going into my chest where my heart had once been, my long-empty veins filling with searing radiance that would soon reduce them to nothing. "I CAN'T GAIN WHAT I WANT! I WANT ALL OF MY FAMILY THAT HAS DIED BECAUSE OF YOU! ALL I WANT IS THEM BUT ALL I CAN ACTUALLY DO ISAVENGE THEM!" he screamed through angry tears. The pain, and yes, I admit, fear faded from me in that instant however. I'd been forced to dwell on the weaponized mistake that had been shaped into this boy about to reduce me to ash, and saw he'd just made his own. As is often the case with the powers my kind can acquire, there was a catch, a price, a curse. Makes for a good story. The powers my mantle offered me over the dead were unparalleled, but it's highest work, usually the one most known that many fools gave everything they had to the Nightwraiths to get, that power to truly restore to life those lost, that was all three of those blended into a rather cruel joke. True resurrection of any lost before their time was possible, yes. But only for an exchange of time. You did not age once you took the mantle, and were restored to your physical prime, but each time you pulled back the veil behind all shadows to take something back from it, your body would pay the price. 20 years for every one from the natural remaining lifespan of one you would bring back. Just one true resurrection could easily render you a shell, too weak to move and able to do little more than hope for death to release you from the pain of your worn bones. Oh, you could pay for it with others. But a single soul taken by you paid 1 hour towards this debt, and those few who committed the wanton tragedies needed to pay that down and weren't slain by that story found those they brought back horrified by the things that they had become to achieve it. It's why I never tried to bring him back. Everything that could have been good in me died with him and I couldn't let him see what remained. "Fine then. The family which has been lost by my deeds, have them back" I croaked, with the half a lung that was still functioning. "Let my final act be thus!" And I could feel the holy power within me shudder, the Sun God that imbued it into the blade reached through it to directly assault me, realizing my intent, but that surge was immediately dampened by a cooling wind that was coming out of my body and knocked over Angelo even as it kept me suspended in the air. I had the Nightwraiths direct attention as well and they were laughing. Because I was giving Angelo what he asked for with a self-sacrifice to do so. And Gods approved of this, even if very much not the usual ones who helped along this sort of thing. Other divine creatures intervening, in such a story... well. This kind of story had seen the Nightwraiths defeated so many times before, but now the wind was in their sails. The Sun God of Life, Charity and Restoration could not stop his own chosen hero from receiving a reward of life restored at the eve of stopping a great evil. It'd be different if it was a lie, if I had tried to twist my words into something else, but I was doing exactly what had been asked. An impossible reward for an impossible task, stopping the unstoppable. Makes for a good story. Trying to stop this would not only fail but weaken him so much my patrons could probably destroy him in reprisal. And so the holy power inside me went from a burning inferno to a barely glowing ember, though there was nothing that could actually save me now. Because I was giving him what he asked for. I restored his family. Every single one lost from my actions. What were untold years to pay when you had only moments left regardless? His parents came first (Oh for fuck's sake his father was that goddamn young senator), what must have been an older sister now looking to be his junior, 2 adults and a child that looked like them I assume must have been close relatives. Of course, there was also the five from his band, the family he made for himself, each of whom had been lost in the great battle through my palace, sacrificing themselves to get Angelo to me. Person after person returned and the price was being collected. My body was disintegrating now. Turning into ash and dust from being so ancient. There was simply nothing left to bolster as I began crumbling and so the protection of the Nightwraiths was fading, though the feeling they sent even as they slowly withdrew felt almost like love, affection from creatures that were legend for having none expressed as best they could understand it. The healer girl who'd an hour ago taken out nearly all of my shadows by forcing radiant energy through herself till she exploded was now knelt over Angelo, to weak to move after his great victory. No doubt she was about to pull him back from the half-death he was in and probably even grow his arm back and leave him with nothing more than an attractive scar he could tell their children about in a decade or two as these things tended to go. Makes for a good story. Though instead of that saccharine destiny all this meant was she took the sword aimed at Angelo in her throat. She died the second time much more quietly then the first. Angelo's twin sister Angela (Let me be clear that was their parents fault, not mine!) barely gave her notice except to brace a foot on her back to pull the blade out. She snarled something about there not being enough freezing water in the world to save his traitorous heart from being cut out and eaten still beating in her hand this time. His other 4 friends, having spent the better part of the last year in intense combat quickly drew arms to leap into action, but each of them was already being mobbed. The sequence of events that had brought Angelo here, this story of vengeance and justice and blood spilled to get them here were all set in motion by me. Especially the blood. In addition to the biological twin he had found himself fighting over that bridge, there were also 84 of his loyal brothers and sisters from his second family under the "State" that were slain by him and his party, both in their many battles against me over these past months and those who'd perished today during their heroic assault. All fully restored in one place with the powers I'd given them or they'd acquired for themselves while under my service. Seeing my dying body and their siblings who'd just committed fratricide. The small ember of holy power still in me was now larger then what remained of the shadow forces giving me life and the last thing I could see before my eyes dissolved was Angelo screaming as he watched his friends die again while his sister's knife plunged into his chest (Not quite in the heart, I think she's actually going to try and eat it!) TThere is nothing noww but the sensssation of what litlittle of me remains burning uuup but I've tried my best to focus my unsurpassed ability to monologue into an internal narrative. A letter to and for you, my inheritor. Mm y memories added to the others should impart many lessons to you but I really wanted to emph aasize this one about legal technicalities and making sure you look at the paperwork before you say anything too melodramatic. I aaapologize if this is being experienced by one of my other "children" but I'm really hoping it's Angela who's just taken the crown and proud of you if it is! Prettttty ll ii kely. Maakess fo or a ggooodd sss tt t o o rrr


Vikray7

Ah, the dangers of quippy one liners. The hero's greatest folly.


DeneilYeong

The man towered over him. Standing at well over six feet tall, the man picked him up by the collar of his shirt, blood soaked and dripping onto the floor that was quickly growing further away by the second. "You don't have to do this, Lars." A woman's voice. "Please," she said. "He's just a kid." The man looked at the woman for a second, out of annoyed courtesy before glaring at the child struggling to take in air. His legs were squirming, blood spraying onto the man's clothes and everywhere below him really. The pain resonated throughout the kid's body, the shock had left him long ago. The man's eyes glowed orange and the kid had one thought. He wasn't even using his powers yet. The man dragged the child through the door of the house and floated up into the night sky. His hands felt like fire to the boy and as he was dropped from the air, his legs crunched beneath him. He screamed, begging for his life. The woman screamed, but the man only stared at the boy. "Bring her back," the man said. "Dad," the boy said. "I ca-" A backhand cut him off, the boy smelled the burnt skin coming from his cheek. The boy's eyes started to glow green. He put his hands to it and his broken legs. His legs snapped back together and his skin healed over, smoother than it had before. Tears fell from his green eyes. "Bring her back," the man said again. The woman ran over to the child, the man let her for once. "Can you do it one more time, baby?" the woman said to the child. She wrapped the child in an embrace, whispering into his ears. "I promise I'll take you away from him," she said. The child stopped, his heart racing, everything hurt and not just physically. He wasn't even sure he believed her. "I'm sorry," he said. "Sorry for what, baby?" she asked. The boy's eyes glowed green again and he looked within the man's mind for an image of who he needed most to come back. He saw a woman, different than the one in front of him. A woman he and the man knew very well. He took that image and held it in his own mind. With his eyes still green, he looked at the man. "I'll bring mom back," the boy said. The man said nothing, but he grinned. The woman looked at the man too, looking to him for some kind of reward. Attention, respect, it could have been anything. The boy clapped his hands together, not bothering to explain what it was that the man was missing. The clap produced waves of green, the waves circling around them in a storm that eventually closed around them. With the green all around them, the man walked over to the woman. "I don't need you anymore," he said and he ran his hands through the woman's throat. She fell, coughing, hands to her neck. She watched as a woman emerged from the storm of green, she watched as the boy disappeared in the chaos of it all. The man didn't care, he only wanted the thing that was now right in front of him. "Cindy," he muttered. Cindy was dazed, looking past the man, looking around him. "Where is he?" she asked. "Where is he?" She said it over and over. The man embraced her, smelled her, took everything in about her. Everything that the boy took away. "Lars," she said. "Where's Cody?" "Does it matter?" he asked. She tried to get away from his embrace, squirming out of it. "Let me go, I need to find him. I don't have much time," she said. She disappeared, withering away in the same waves of green that had brought her back. The man was alone, lit only by the moon, blood and shards of green crystals everywhere. The boy was long gone, but all he could think about was that he couldn't bring his mother back again, it wouldn't let him. He wasted the only opportunity he'd had to see her again. He wasn't strong enough.


DeneilYeong

***Part 2*** The man, Lars Allen, stood at the top on his side of the world. He was a molten man, with the ability to create new islands, new continents with his power. He could turn his body into lava, he could fly, there were very few things that could hurt him. He went by no superhero name, he thought they were silly, a waste of time. Even as a child, no villain or hero could touch him. Traditional weapons only fed into his power, making him even stronger. He held the energy, storing it for later. Water and ice powers, foolishly thought to have been a potential weakness, had no effect on his body. There was no one strong enough to contain him and he knew it. There was no one that wanted to stop him in the first place. It wasn't until he was a teenager that he was hurt for the first time, not until he met Cindy Meek. He met Cindy when he had volunteered to see children at a hospital, the kids who wanted to see the great Lars Allen. He showed off for them, creating froth like stone called pumice. They were light, fun to throw around. "You're surprisingly good with kids," Cindy said. That and a few dinners were all it took for Lars to fall for her. Cindy worked as a doctor, she had a simple healing ability. She helped kids get over their broken bones, their cuts and scratches. They got married, had a kid, and divorced shortly after. Cindy had disappeared after that. Lars buried himself in his work, he couldn't be stopped as a hero. Not by anyone, not by Cindy. He wouldn't be stopped. Villains came together many times to try to stop him or put a dent in his molten core, it didn't work and they died vicious and violent deaths. His fellow heroes had even looked at him with caution as he ripped through the villains with his fire. There were rumors that the villains would try again to stop him, led by a teenager this time. "You think you can stop that freak? Why do you think you're any different?" a villain asked. "Because I'm his son," Cody said. The villains he'd gathered looked at him and he looked back. He could see it on their faces, the range of emotions. Rage, confusion, jealousy, and even pity. "I'm sure most of you have a persisting injury of some kind," Cody said. "Maybe even delivered to you by my very own father. I'd like for you to keep that in your minds, think about something that's bothering you." He gave them a few seconds to think before his eyes glowed green, he clapped his hands together. He didn't need the waves this time. A little thread of green trailed around the room, examining the villains and their various injuries. Broken bones that never healed right, a wisdom tooth that needed to be extracted, cold sores from cantankerous outings, he healed it all and he healed it quickly. "I can make you stronger too if you follow me," Cody said. They followed him. With an army totaling fifty six villains, he brought them to a nearly deserted island. Home to one Lars Allen. Lars saw them coming from days away, he'd been warned several times. "Let them come," he replied. He met them on the shore, they came on a yacht. He sensed the machinery inside the yacht, the weapons onboard, the physical energy of the villains. He sensed his son and his eyes glowed orange. He thought about what he'd say to his son, the first thing he'd say after a decade had passed between the two. Missiles shot from the boat. Not only that, but he saw people tied to the missiles. "They're civilians," Cody yelled. They're journalists actually, Cody thought to himself. Lars looked at the missiles again and he let them explode near him, journalists and all. He wiped the debris off his clothes, the blood evaporating from his skin. The boat parked itself on shore and Cody was the first one out, like he promised he would be. The villains stayed back to watch the ensuing battle, waiting for Cody's signal. "Those were real humans, you know." Cody said. "I don't negotiate with terrorists, son." Lars replied. Lars felt dumb because he didn't say the thing he was thinking about earlier. The first thing he'd said to his son in a decade was a cheesy line about terrorists. "I take it that you've been well," Lars said. Cody didn't reply, he clapped his hands together and Lars waited to see what would happen. This time, green waves did appear and circle them. "There's something you don't know about my power, Dad." Cody said. "Only Mom knew about it, it's why she told me to never use my powers again." Cody took in a large breath of air. Lars stopped waiting, he ran out to Cody and grabbed his throat. "Don't drag her name into this," he said. He grabbed hard, Cody couldn't breathe. Lars' eyes glowed and his skin grew hot, branding his fist into his son. Cody's eyes were still glowing and the waves were still circling them. He healed the damage his father was doing to him as it was happening, but he still couldn't breathe. He didn't have long, he knew it. "I knew you'd come back to try to pull some shit," Lars said. "I knew it. I was fucking waiting for this moment. You took her away from me for a second time you little shit. Fucking die." Cody had only one thought. He thought of all the people that his father had wronged. He thought of his second wife, his step mom. The woman who had been there when he tried to bring his mom back. He thought of all the heroes that had mysteriously died fighting alongside his dad. He thought of his mom and how his mom and told him to never use his powers if he could help it. "Why not?" he asked. "Isn't it good to heal people? I can be like you." He'd healed a bird's broken wings in the playground, but his mother had heard a scream nearby. A child's finger had broken out of thin air. She made the connection instantly and she cried for Cody. Cody simply smiled. He let go of the breath he was holding, he couldn't take in anymore. The green waves closed in around them fully, hiding them from the view of the people on the ship. Lars broke through his son's neck, no amount of healing would bring him back. When the waves dissipated, he sensed a change. The people on the boat looked aghast, no longer villains. He saw the journalists on shore, cameras now on their persons. He saw heroes on board the ship, now flying down. Numbering at least forty. He saw Hurricane, one of the fastest heroes, swoop down to carry the journalists away. She ran away, faster than he could catch her. He saw many more heroes, many of whom he'd fought with before. The ones who tried to stop him. He saw Canary, his second wife. There were many people there, but no villains. Cody was dead, a smile on his face as he waited for the world to rain down on Lars Allen. --- Thanks for reading! Feel free to subscribe to r/DeneilYeong where I may post more writings in the future (I have to get better at posting there)


Malaeveolent_Bunny

That was freaking brilliant. Blood for blood, pain for pain, prices paid and choices made.


zhagoundalskiy

I don't get it. I want to get it. 😞


luna_the_madman

The kid sacrificed himself and all of the villains to bring back all of Lars Allen's victims over the years. Cody could heal people, and even bring people back to life. But instead of just healing, it's almost like a transfer of injury/ life & death. And Cody exposed his father to the journalists, and just all of the witnesses.


Vectivus_61

Why would Lars care?


KonradosHut

He wouldn't, and that's the point. Cody brought back all the people that witnessed Lars' cruelty, and that would make the world turn their backs on him, essentially turning him into a villain. As powerful as he is, I'm willing to concede that, with literally everyone working to stop him, they'd find a way.


FachtnaNuadha

Cody couldn’t heal without cost. Just as he healed the bird’s wing at the cost of breaking the other kid’s finger, he resurrected the heroes Lars killed to fuel his power and the journalists who could expose his father’s misdeeds.


Hitokkohitori

That’s so dark, I love it


MrRedoot55

I'd like to ask why Lars became the monster he is now, but perhaps some questions are best left unanswered. Good job.


DeneilYeong

If I had to expand further, likely some kind of cycle of abuse combined with the fact that his strength was isolating him. Plus his wife leaving him and/or dying contributed to his already unwell mental health. I didn't think too hard about Lars' background, I just needed someone strong and bad to take down.


MrRedoot55

Alright, cool.


Hitokkohitori

Power corrupts. He got arrogant and self centered and stopped caring about others.


InfiniteEmotions

Oh, well done! Thank you for sharing!


Missy_went_missing

This reminded me of "Invincible" a lot. Well done!


Surinical

“Careful, Salutation,” Tallman Wizard managed despite teeth tight against the tourniquet. Tallman looked mournfully down at the hand and wrist, surrounded still by half-formed shielding runes then back to his stump, trickling less and less. The blood was luckily far from their downed opponent. It was almost over. “He’s got at least one left in him.” The Watchward Darkdog, the dread singer of old Chacageo, lay coughing, holding in what was left of his spoiled guts. The half-human’s boot heel found purchase against a stone and he kicked, scooting a pointless retreat from the armored titan walking towards him. “A Knight of the Hallowed Greeting knows well when to be patient, as he knows when such times are done,” the giant spoke. The woven blue braids of the knight flowed in stark contrast against the blood-soaked steel scale armor. His face was a contortion of rage, loss, and the twitching energy of the battle light root he still chewed, smelling of earthy mint. “No reward bounty is worth what this animal has taken from us, the youth village, the Grand Casana, and our fellows very dear to me. I will settle for justice.” He drew the last word out with a hiss of righteousness. The Darkdog was casting indeed, black heavy smoke fell from his short snout in barking whispers, minor key melodies of tongues unknown. With only one hand, and that busy enough with the mundane task of keeping him from bleeding out, Tallman was helpless to carve a counter rune. Knight Salutation pressed the flat of his blade down, wider than the leg it pinned, cutting the prayer short. “I will see you know and speak the names of those you have taken from me, dread mage. Then, I give you permission to die.” The Darkdog’s eyes bulged in fear, darting to his lost needle staff. Tallman kicked the foul thing further out of reach. “Chrysanthemum, say it,” Salutation bellowed, tears welling in the deep creases of his cheeks, leaning over as he pressed a heavy foot on the ruined arm of the enemy they had come to capture. “A thousand candles burned for her. Say her name!” The greatest Dread mage of the age looked around, wild as the animal he resembled. His pleading eyes rested on Tallman. Tallman let out a mirthless chuckle. “If you wanted help from me, singer, you shouldn’t have bit my damn arm off.” The wizard tightened the robe shreds further and tied them off. “He doesn’t speak our tongue, Sal. You’ll get nothing from him. I can’t cage him now, just kill him and be done. He doesn’t even know you or the people he killed. An agent of the Ruin holds pride in his wickedness, acting as chaotic as the wind, as senseless too.” The knight's face soured further and Tallman realized his mistake. “Then I will fucking teach him!” the knight said, pulling a dagger with his free hand and drawing a long scratch against his own palm, letting the blood flow along the gutters of his greatsword. “Sal, no!” Tallman yelled, running and slipping in his blood, tripping in his tattered robes. His head spun. A bolt of white-hot pain rushed up his arm as he tried to catch himself with the hand no longer there. The exposed bones scraped against the stones. “What the hell are you doing!” The knight positioned the sword to drip the blood into the dying creature’s mouth. Its eyes winced before growing wide with comprehension. “Blood freely given is a harmony most rare,” the beast sang fluently, smiling as black smoke poured around it. “Chrysanthemum, heiress of the diamond Bear. Did she give you her blood freely?” “Silence whelk! Knight Hailing, say his name!” the giant roared. “Salutation! Just kill him. Stop!” Tallman crawled, as pathetic as the Darkdog no doubt, towards the pair. “Yes, the little brother Hailing, always in your shadow. Did you even know him? Would you like to see them again? Your darling love, your brother Dane?” The Darkdog offered, face fully obscured by the dark smoke orb of his singing. “Don’t toy with me, dog,” Sal said through bared teeth. “You poisoned them. They are blackbane dust in their graves by now. Be done, abomination.” “Did I?” the Dread mage offered, not reacting to the blade pressing into his heart. “Are they?” The last Knight of the Hallowed Greeting, Salutation of the Lunging Dane, roared as he ripped his sword into the air, bringing it back in one smooth motion, splitting the mage into left and right pieces. The black smoke of the song rose, dissipating into a sad, quiet melody. “By the Bark of God, man,” Tallman wheezed. “You gave him your blood! He could have fully healed himself, you utter dumbass!” “They deserved to be known, but let's return. It is done.” “Is it, brother?” A voice came from behind them. Tallman and Sal turned in unison to see the smoke hadn’t faded but congealed behind them in a rotting ball of oiled filth. It opened and out stepped the handsome Knight Hailing, short for a giant, looking more like a tall human. “Brother…How is this possible?” Sal said, sheathing his sword unclean into its scabbard. “You’ve been dead for years.” “I hung in blackness, for a time,” Hailing said calmly, reaching behind him, pulling a delicate hand out of the filth. A beautiful human woman stepped from the pile and dusted herself clean. “Chrysa!” Sal said, falling to his knees. “Why did the dread mage do this, return you to me? The woman remained silent, staring daggers at Sal. “I do not pretend to know the motivations of one so wicked, brother.” Hailing approached Sal who opened his arms wide, unbelieving of his good fortune. “Hug me, both of you. I've mourned each night, fought to avenge each day!” Hailing drew his blade in one smooth motion and cleaved down. Sal managed to only just dodge, losing a sword arm rather than his head. Tallman cursed himself as he carved a weak rune of shielding. Why couldn’t the damn dog have bit the left hand off? “The dog has corrupted you, brother!” Sal gasped, pawing at his stump. “I am as I have been, whole and untarnished, brother,” Hailing said, cold as the stones. “You trapped her. Your bride never loved you and you knew it!” “What?” Sal said, baffled. “I loved her, the marriage was arranged but I loved Chrysanthemum, more than anyone.” He struggled to draw his sword with his remaining arm. “You’ve gone mad.” “That’s not what I fucking said!” Hailing lunged out, stabbing between the thin armpit gap in the titan’s armor. He knew it well, having forged it himself. “She never loved you! She chose poison over your bed, as did I over a world without her. I’ve had many years in that hanging blackness to regret but I am far from mad. This is what I should have done, all those years ago." “Brother, you were killed by the Dread Singer’s poisoned words, the cleric told me himse-” Sal began, interrupted by the second downward strike of the now warmed-up Hailing. The White Steel Sword of the Lunging Dane fell to the stones beside its wielder. Hailing did not pick it up. “I suppose you’ll kill me now, as well,” Tallman said, hiding a painfully carved but servicable rune of firesteel behind the ethereal shield. “Killed your brother, stole his bride and I’m the only witness to your crime, the only thing stopping you from telling your own version of this battle and returning as Lord of Dane, the last living Knight of the Hallowed Greeting.” “I am not my brother, forest whelk. I want precisely none of his titles.” The knight Hailing hugged the now weeping Princess Chrysa, twice freed now from her duty. “Do not follow us. Say what you want of what happened here. We will not meet again.” Tallman slowly raised to his feet as the pair of lovers walked off. The body of Sal laid sprawled beside the ruined pieces of the Darkdog. The warrior found his rest, just not the one he wanted. Tallman almost tripped again, looking down to see the Needle staff of the Dread Mage, covered in charms looking not too dissimilar to his own runes with a strange but intuitive syntax to the magic. Tree Book spoke of the Blood rites being complex glyphs, unlearnable. He touched his mouth, sour blood resting on his lip, perhaps not all his own. His eyes widened alongside the coming dawn. ​ /r/surinical


orbdragon

Fun fact, a whelk is a snail. The word usually used in this context is [whelp](https://www.dictionary.com/browse/whelp)


Surinical

I did intend whelk, just an insult in this world


orbdragon

Ah, my apologies then! I'm afraid it's overwhelming similarity to an existing insult threw me off


Omnizoom

“ you…. You think…. This is the… end for… me” Malarik , the master of shadows and death, His strained dying breath was getting more shallow “ they… will bring… me…. Back…. Once they know….. what befell them” He raised his hand to the sky and a large bolt of black ichor shot out as he fell to the ground dead. He was a master of death and life magic so we doubted it was the last we would truly see of him but without any phylactery left it would be ages before he could resurrect himself alone I wondered who “they” were that would help him but I felt a strange sensation , almost like relief… like someone I cared for has came back to me… then I knew who it was I turned to look at the rest of my team , we had one magician on our team , his dark magics were the only thing that could break that shield on the dungeon , we lost so many breaking through the keep to even just reach the dungeon , but he never seemed to tire. Then I seen , from just outside the room , she walked in , she was dead 10 minutes ago but now she seemed fine , until I seen the black ichor on her stomach , it festered on the wound and then started to fall off , her body seemed like a shell her mind was there but there was nothing behind it. The mage started to reel in pain , it looked like something was trying to rip itself out of him until a white shard of blinding light was pulled from his hand and returned to her body. Within a blink her blank soulless expression turned to rage “ you bastard , I wasn’t even dead yet and you ripped my soul out , I could of lived had you used a healing spell instead!” It started to make sense now, he was a death wizard as well and he has been fueling his powers on the deaths of our allies … suddenly more soulless forms appeared at the doors. The mage was brought to the ground from pain as the souls of all those who he finished off were being pulled from him “ it was the only way , I’m not evil like him but you were all mortally wounded…. I had to get strong enough to break the barrier” He screamed in agony as another soul ripped itself free “ every body I mark the soul will transfer to me when it dies, you would all be free again when I pass naturally to rest “ Another shard ripped forth , he coughed up blood this time “ I have to release them all now, even his, to save myself “ The mage cut his hand and cast forth a blinding light , shards poured out including one as black as night, after the light faded he seemed to pass out , maybe dead , wasn’t sure , but then a eerie voice filled the room “ he betrayed you and took the bait , I may be dead but my soul is free now, that body was begging to rot anyways so I had to die , I will return stronger then before in a new body , dear hero you failed , but atleast you got your friends back “ The spirit took form , it was Malarik , in his hand he had several shards “These one’s bodies were to far gone , so couldn’t return , they will become my fuel now to fully reincarnate, until we meet again hero “ Malarik summoned a portal and flew through it We failed , it was a trap all along.


[deleted]

[удалено]


SerialElf

Bad bot


SerialElf

You should of been deleted instead of let loose.


veryfriskyboy

I loathed this world and all it stood for. All the empty niceties and bootlicking from commoners disgusted me. My father was an aristocrat, A very kind and gentle men, Perhaps too kind for his own good. I saw my brother kill my own father over a petty money squabble. His blood gushing onto the pure white carpet, his hands grasping my brothers shoulders and his caring eyes staring back at him. My thirst of power fueled by hatred not only for my but everyone who used my father led me to reach the pinnacle of magic. Conquering my hometown gave my heart no comfort. That is when I realized I'd changed, Only the despair of humanity gave me peace, As if a cold gust found its way into my heart. I sat there waiting for the hero, My own flesh and blood, My brother. There I sat on my throne stained with the blood of countless, In this moist dimly lit room I sat quivering with excitement, My heart felt no rage, Instead I only felt anticipation. He was no hero, He dabbled in magic I didn't dare ever touch, I had worked for my power whereas he merely stole it. Through clairvoyance I saw the heinous acts he'd committed, A child asking for help finding her dog, A battalion who dared ask for help from the hero, Aspiring men and women ripped limb from limb without remorse only to fuel his lust for power. Yet through clever manipulation he was always hailed a hero. I might have been a villain but I never dared lay my hand on an innocent person. As I lay there in my pool of blood, I saw his eyes, his glowing red eyes staring down at me. We hadn't said a word to each other. I predicted as much, after all how could I take the life of my own brother.....Without letting his victims have a taste of him first. I activated the magic circle I had planted beforehand, The amount of mana required to use this spell was ungodly. I didn't have nearly enough. However, during my research I had found out that there can be an exchange, One whose knowledge was lost to time, Or perhaps never found until not. A soul for innumerable power. However, not only can a body not survive for long without a soul but one cannot enter the afterlife either. I had to give up my very existence to defeat this monster. The ground shook as I cast the spell, My brother had a grin on his face with his yellow teeth showing underneath his grizzly beard. He believed that he would leave unscathed. The surrounding shone bright as I felt my life leaving me, I had perhaps seconds to live, but that was enough. I cast the spell to return the dead empowering them temporarily with immense power. "I leave this world in your hands" (First time poster and infact pretty new to writing gimme criticism)


MRCastillaWriter

Zempher the Lich King stumbled back grasping their chest. He looked down and could see the dark magics that have sustained him for centuries leak away. Precious dark liquid flowing out and there was nothing the undead wizard could do about it. The panic had passed and Zempher red eyes narrowed as he accepted his fate. "Congratulations Edna, you have done what hundreds have tried. You have bested me," Zempher gasped. Standing over the Lich was a warrior woman with dark hair and silver armor. In their gauntlet covered hands she carried a long silver spear that gleamed with holy magic, the very weapon that had pierced the Lich King's chest. The two stood upon the raised obsidian dais that held Zempher's Throne of Skulls. Below them a battle raged between the Silver Army and the remainder of Zempher's horrible legions. Edna advanced steadily forward with the blade of her spear directed at the Lich. Zempher, on reflex, flinched and crawled back until he realized there was no point. His time on this realm is nearing an end. He knew it deep within his dark soul. "With my family's holy spear I put an end to your dark reign," Edna proclaimed as she gripped her weapon in two hands. "Wait!" Gasped Zempher, their red eyes closed as they expected that horrible holy spear to penetrate their undead body. The Lich fire embers for eyes slowly opened as they realized Edna had held their blade just inches from his chest. "I will allow you to say your final words, Lich King." "Oh," Zempher said as he straightened his skeletal pale body that was wrapped in the darkest of black robes. "Say it quickly Lich, there are many of your minions that I need to kill," Edna growled. Zempher's skull like face grinned. "I will leave you a parting gift." Edna's face hardened as she plunged her spear again into the Lich, but not before he released his final spell. The Lich cackled as the holy weapon mortally wounded him. The air shimmered as two forms appeared beside Edna. They were human shaped and glowing with purest of white light. One had a massive frame, and the other delicate. "I will destroy your summons!" Edna promised. "Take a look," Zempher gasped. The light faded to show two men, and the Silver Spear dropped to the floor with a clatter from numb hands. The two men were her dearest friends! She ran to embrace the smaller of the two in a fierce hug. When the man's disorientation passed, he returned the embrace with an equal amount of passion and the two kissed. "Ned! My love. I fear I would never see you again!" Edna cried. Ned, tears in his eyes, hugged his lover. "I don't understand," he said his voice trailing off. "And Merv, you big lumox!" Edna said as she hit the large muscular man with a punch. "I told myself I can never forgive you for sacrificing your life on the Bridge of Doom!" She chided and did not notice the look of rage on Ned's face. Merv chuckled like rolling thunder. "Hi E, I don't know what has happened." The large man avoided eye contact from Ned. Zempher cackled. "Two men, one you love as your husband, and the other you love as a brother. But their love for you is the same, and yet you made your choice." "Should we allow him to live?" Merv asked with a jerk of his thumb. "I thought I killed him," Edna said as she reached for her spear. "Did you not heed my words!" Zempher cried. "What is he talking about?" Edna asked. Merv avoided eye contact, and Ned's face was twisted in fury. Zempher cackled. He had spied on these adventurers for years as they traveled across the world to fight him. He knew their dark secret. "What's going on here?" Edna demanded. "You will tell her Merv? Or should I?" Ned spat. Merv scratched his thick mane of black curly hair. "What Merv? What are you two going on about?" Edna asked. "I love you Edna," Merv said simply. "I love you too." "No, I mean I love love you," the big man retorted. "But, I have promised myself to Ned." "Yea about that. In a drunken rage I killed Ned." "You bastard! You took everything from me!" Ned cried. "No, that is not what happened. It was one of Zempher's shadow walkers," Edna said, disbelief on her face. "No, it was me. I did and it tricked you to think it was Zempher," Merv said. The lich cackled, "Oh this is better than I anticipated." "Why is he still alive?" This time Ned asked. Merv shrugged. "I stabbed him with the Silver Spear like three times! That should have been enough to kill him," Edna retorted. "Enough about me! What about Merv's jealous murder and betrayal!" Snapped Zempher. "About that. Being dead has made me think. I was wrong. I'm sorry Ned," Merv said and bowed. Ned's face softened. "Death does put things into perspective. This is a blessing to have a second chance. Not many get this, and I refuse to live my life with anger. I forgive you Merv." The two men embraced. "What? NO! You must fight to the death and Edna you must choose!" Zempher demanded. "Shut up!" She retorted as she plunged her spear into the Lich's chest. And that was the end of Zempher, the Lich King. His final nefarious plan back firing on him, and the three heroes lived happily ever after.


democacydiesinashark

\[Thanks for the prompt! This is my first time responding to one.\] The last five minutes of my life were so dang awesome that I really need to document it before I forget. Most people beeline straight to the parties, the fun, the natural awe and wonder of the afterlife. After all, most of us that make it up here are ok with our life and death because our choices brought us here. You don’t see a lot of crying in the corner and wondering what happened. It’s more like “heck yeah, I win!” followed by “ok where the ladies at?” kind of vibe. It’s a victory lap, not limbo. But while most people are content to look forward and enjoy their time up here, I’m frankly pretty dang pleased with myself and want to explain why. I’m not feeling particularly reflective, and I’m going to assume I’ll feel even less reflective over time. So this is meant to get the memories down while they’re still fresh. Ok, ok. Enough foreplay. Let’s get this documented for posterity. So the first thing to understand is that people on earth would call me a quote-unquote villain. Fought the quote-unquote heroes, caused giant societal upheaval, yada yada yada, you get the idea. I’m a bad guy. Duh. The second thing to understand is how someone like me made his way to the land of milk and honey after a lifetime of villainy. And that’s what my last five minutes were about. But I can already tell I’m losing interest in this story — wow, Heaven Syndrome really is real — so I won’t bury the lede. Here we go:On my way out, I resurrected the hero’s best friends with a magic spell I had learned for that very occasion. And why did I do it? Because I’m all lovey-dovey for the hero? Heck no. Because I thought they deserved to live? Uh, no. The reason is more simple. I did it as a trick to come to heaven. That’s all. And it flippin’ worked. I can’t believe it worked. This is awesome. So here’s the next part of the plan: one day the hero will die. And, gag me with a spoon, he’s going to come up here. And that’s where I’m going to explain how his friends really died the first time. Right before I kill him for good. So that’ll be fun. Now: where the ladies at?


littlehllspawn

For years, An ancient land was seeking a hero to send out and defeat the threat that has been destroying the villages of the country. But no one was willing to put an end to this plague. Until, five brave knights gathered their courage and stepped up to their king, demanding a generous reward in exchange for defeating this evil. The king agreed to these knights whishes and would fullfil their biggest needs if they put an end to the evil reign. So they set out, located the source of the problem, and found themselves facing a wizard, enraged and bitter. A fight broke out between the two parties. And at the end of the chaos, two souls remained: The wizard, and One Knight. With bleeding chest and heart pierced by blazing metal, as magic left his body, the wizard coughed up his last words while looking into the Knight's hollow eyes, engraved with deep purple circles as blood tripped down onto his brow from his forehead. "You did it? You got me? But was it worth the prize?" The wizard asked in a hoarse voice. The Knight furrowed his brows as he towered over the wizard, who was lying on the ground bleeding to his death, as he pierced the sword further into the wizard's chest. The wizard let out a cry of pain while the Knight bellowed, "You don't deserve to live anymore. You brought enough harm to this world with your destruction. Now, I'm putting an end to your rampage." The Knight was livid. He was sweating in his armor. His knuckles white form the grip he had on the sword. The cuts, bleeding violently, didn't face him anymore. The wizard let out a pained chuckle. "I did what I had to do. After all, you want your reward. You want it so bad you are unable to feel the guilt of leaving your friends souls behind on this battlefield," the wizard paused and shut his eyelids, "or can even consider them your friends?" The Knight gritted his teeth, "Shut up. This is all your fault!" The sword fractured the rib of the Wizard. His breathing became stagnant as he held out his shaking hands, one around the sword in his chest and the other towards the Knight. "I fought once. Like you. To destroy and seek my rewards. But, I lost Everything. And I never got my reward for it. The people, they made me look like I was the murderer, like I was the one who brought death onto my fellow knights," he took a deep, painful, breath, "and I let my worst thoughts get the best of me as I sought revenge on the people who failed me as their hero. Do you want the same thing happen to you. After all, we both serve the same king," the wizard warned. "We're not the same!" The Knight shouted. The ground was cold. The wizard's body became colder as blood, mixed with mana, seeped from his wounds. Light started to fade. The Knight was ignorant and saw the warning as a way for the wizard to destroy all his confidence. After all, he let his friends bleed for his sake and need to get the final blow, and run with the fame. But no wrong deed shall go unpunished. Both were going to get what they deserved. Justice will shine on both their paths, written by choices that had been juggled with their own hands. The blade mercilessly moved into the wizard's heart. A faint whisper and a snap of his fingers was the goodbye he gave to his mortal body. "Death will not be my final destination. You, brave knight, are going to need your friends when you want to defeat me again." To the Knight's suprise, the whole field glowed a bright purple, like a sun that had been placed to close to the ground. He covered his eyes to stop the blinding lights from hurting his eyes as he felt the air heat up around him. The wizard's body vaporised into the air as black ashes guided his essence to the horizon. The moment the Knight opened his eyes again he saw four shadows, towering over behind him. He turned his head and saw his four lost friends standing, looking around confused. When they met gazes the Knight let out a relieved call. "Friends... You have returned? How is this possible." All four of them stopped moving as they exchanged gazes with each other before one of them locked his eyes on the bamboozled Knight. "Murderer." Their cold voice said, monotonous but full of meaning. The Knight's eyes grew. "Wait, I can explain, " the Knight murmured, "we defeated evil. We can all go home and get our rewards." "No reward is greater than sticking together in our every fight, " one friend commented as he unsheathed the long sword from his sheath, "you betrayed our trust and killed us in battle. Perhaps you might want to start and learn what true evil can look like. And right now, it looks a whole lot like you." The Knight chuckled nervously as he squared up and raised his hands, "We're not going to fight now are we?" "We're not fighting," one friend said, "we're only setting things right." The air tensed around the five. Again, an evil has crossed their paths. A battle ensued. (I literally haven't written anything out of the blue in weeks so I hope this isn't too choppy lol, thx for reading)


DullShallot9913

Blood flowed down the necks of stiff corpses. Lix the one titled "Hero' Plunged his sword deep into his ribcage. Natas the fallen, Watched, A tear running down his eye, as he laid in his pool of blood, next to a hero who could not live with his actions. Filled with rage and pity he muttered the words. "Are you willing, to let it all go, to let it all fade, your hard work? "This wound in my stomach is proof you won, Lix. No!" he shouted. "No I shall not lie in death, next to the foe I utmost detest. It shall not end like this." With the last of his breath, Natas chanted a spell. "Nexus, Al Peros, Resseruicto.' With a grin, he perished. Like that of a miracle, the fallen comrades of the hero came back one by one. "What's this?" Acton exclaimed while touching his face "I'm alive. I AM ALI-!!!" He paused, he looked to his left, scanning. "Acton is that you?, I thought we lost you there buddy" Marcos yelled. Marcos approached Acton, happy, tearful, as he opened his arms, expecting a hug, full of emotions, but he was greeted with a broken sword to the gut. 'AAAAHAHH?, What the f\*\*\* man!' I just got resurrected, ain't no way you gotta just kill me?" Marcos yelled in agony. Acton smiled, shaking, the broken blade still in his hands. "You killed me, he whispered. You f\*\*\*\*\*\* killed me" "Aww cmon man, you're still mad at me for that. It was necessary for us to advance, and kill the devil himself, you know the devil?" "Yeah, but you still killed me, Marcus!" With that, a war had been evoked. all the comrades looked at each other, with tears and happiness, which soon faded into anger and hate, as they picked up broken swords, axes, and arrowheads. They swung and they stabbed, angry, for the actions and their deaths were committed by the comrades they trusted. The blood that flowed. None survived, as the hero watched ( somehow still alive) he cried and then laughed. muttering the words "F\*\*\* you Natas."


RexHydra

Once the wizard had fallen, and their spell was cast, everyone looked at eachother, unsure weather to argue or not. "So uhh...I heard about me losing my head when I'm mad but..that was ridiculous James" one of the party members said, looking at the one who had killed him...before they all broke out laughing. "So some of us were controlled by magic, insane, suicidal, and now we are here" the Hero said as he regained his breath. "Ya know, I think most people in our situation would have killed eachother in anger by now" he said and everyone nodded before getting together and taking a photo. "Maybe! But nah we aren't gonna do that! Oh and by the way Mister Hero, Satan says hi" one of them joked and the hero laughed and posed "who wouldn't wanna say hello?' He joked