It's raining again...

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Written for Endmaster's Prompt Contest 3

Prompt 42: A story set in an area ravaged by a plague or famine.

S.D.G

Edit 5/4/24: removed square brackets outline accidentally left on one page

Edit 14/4/24: eliminated several typos

The fish are hungry...

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Scores:

-3: You let innocents die and joined a death cult. You are scum.

-2: You let innocents die, but you chose an 'honourable' death.

-1: You joined the cult, like a sheep.

0: Nothing meaningful happened to you (you met an untimely death).

1: You destroyed the cult, but failed to kill the fish

2: You eradicated the fish, but the cult remains, hidden deep in the shadows...

3: You destroyed the cult AND eradicated the fish. Impressive.

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Written for the Gone Fishin' Contest 2023.

S.D.G

Edit 10/7/23: fixed green shoots error, clarified that swamp-fish can live in any water-type, proofread for spelling errors.

Edit 12/7/23: fixed Question Cultists loop error

Edit 19/10/23: fixed Resigned to Waiting paths loop error

Edit January 2024: added title page picture (drawn by mizal, not me - thank you!)

You, a human mage with little to no reputation (who needs that anyway), are friends with an elf from Summer called Cocoa Lire. You (for some mysterious reason) call her Watermelon.

However, you learn that she is having an affair with a human commander called Jael Rock, which is disastrous for a whole host of reasons:

• Too many to list here (but you get the idea)

Your solution? Convince them to end the relationship!

However, a small problem called 'true love' may make this harder than you think...

WARNING: Contains sadistic goats, holy cucumbers, and a whole lot of other things that may cause heinous offence. You have been warned.

There are seven 'endings' to reach. If you like that kind of thing.

Written for EndMaster's Prompt Contest 2.

Prompt 35: 'A story where you must save someone close to you from a disastrous relationship.'

S.D.G

Edit 6/6/24 - fixed some typos

So... Is this still happening?

The correct British response would be: "What's Thanksgiving?"

Fit for a medieval tavern! 

You could have a drinking game where you drink whenever you say 'ass'. 

Rosenhoff grins evilly. She pulls off the dirty knitted hat she’s definitely always been wearing, then deftly turns the hat inside out, causing a large black-cloth-covered package and several reels of ribbon to spill out of it. The package is deer-shaped, bound with more ribbon, and wriggles furiously around on the ground. Rosenhoff gives it a nudge, and it goes limp.

“This, I assure you, is a Moonstone Leucrota from the moonless dark surrounding the City of Agartha, many miles beneath the ground. The most volatile beast I have ever had the displeasure of gift-wrapping.

“It requires 6 miles exercise in a straight line – if it deviates from the line by an inch, it will explode. It must not come into contact with any light at all – to do so would be to cause it to explode (such is the reactivity of moonstone around Agartha). Thus, House Pukklwyd will be forced to build a 6 mile-long lightless corridor, or hollow one out of the earth, which I’m sure will take a chunk of their savings. In addition, this beast only eats blue moonstones harvested under a blue harvest moon, and must be fed twice a day or explode.

“A further complication to this ‘gift’ is that the Moonstone Leucrota is revered by the people of Agartha. Each year they have a special ceremony to celebrate the animal, ending with the transformation of one of the people into a leucrota. Causing a Moonstone Leucrota to explode is, as a result, tantamount to murder in their eyes.

“As I see it, it’s a win-win situation: House Pukklwyd either go bankrupt, or the creature explodes in their faces, humiliating House Pukklwyd forever and angering the entire population of Agartha. We’re talking pitchforks and flaming arrows of death levels of anger here.”

Material, Beast, Suffix

Lord Rilquennoth stares at the Pasha’s gift in disgust. “Perthonally enthulting and horribly dithguthting. And thuch a creature only inviteth people to thay that my dungeon thtinkth. No way.”

The Dark Lord turns to the siren and the borbothis. “Though thethe are wonderful for tormenting adventurerth, neither theem quite right for my dungeon. The thiren already theemth to be preparing to commit (at leatht pthychological) mutiny, and the eel thing ith, ath you dethcribed it, ‘impothible to tame’. Being uthurped by my own monthterth will make me an even bigger laughing thtock, tho thankth, but no thankth.”

He lingers on the bear, before shaking his head. “Much ath I love a bear of math dethtruction, I’ve theen too many adventurerth uthe fire-baythed thpellth in enclothed thpaceth and blow up. Thimilarly, thith bear may detonate if expothed to much of anything. Imagine it: my dungeon blown to bitth becauth someone decideth to have a drink during the battle! Maybe another time.”

Finally, Rilquennoth admires the Panther of Swords. “Itth thneaky and deadly. Doethn’t really need my time or attention. Lotth of thpiky bitth. Pluth, it hath fangth. I love it! Maybe thith cat will win me ‘Twist on the Villain Cat Cliché’ in the League’th award theremony.”

So saying, the demanding young(ish) vampire turns back into a flock of pigeons, which then grasps the panther’s fur and hauls it into the air. The crowd watches in stunned silence as the panther and its peculiar escort disappear over the rooftops.

Point to ISentinelPenguinI.

Fantasy. 

@fresh_out_the_oven @hetero_malk @ISentinelPenguinI @Mizal

You have until Monday morning (7:00 GMT) to submit something or Anthraxus wins the point by default. No pressure :).

Done.

Scoreboard: Mizal 2 --- goodnight_a 1 --- fresh 1 --- Everyone Else 0

Throughout the proceedings a variety of pigeons have been watching from the rooftops. Now they coalesce into a swarm which funnels down into the market square below. In a whirl of feathers and a spray of bird droppings, the swarm transforms into a small boy dressed in a ridiculously big black robe. He speaks with a terrible lisp, likely due to his having several teeth missing and a fang in place of his left front tooth.

“I am Lord Rilquennoth, and I need the biggetht, baddetht creature the world hath ever theen for my dungeon lair! I’m a laughing thtock in the vampiric community becauth I wath turned before I could get all my adult teeth, giving me thith thtupid lithp. Every time adventurerth fayth me in battle they can’t take me theriouthly, which maykth killing them really boring.

It’th tho bad I can’t even hire proper monthterth! All the real bad oneth like Hydra and Minotaur don’t return my callth. Goblinth and orcth, puny ath they are, would rather fight each other to the death than work for me. My thcoreth on TripAdvithor have never been tho low! Look!”

He pulls out a holoscroll, which displays a list of highly negative reviews:

Tornack99: Rubbish maze, rubbish encounters, rubbish gift shop. Stay well away!

Adventures_lol: Was the first bit supposed to be challenging LOL

Woden’sBaned: You know a dungeon’s the pits when the fight before the big bad is against flumphs. FLUMPHS!!!

The Dark Lord puts the scroll away and wipes his eyes. “The flumphth are on the brink of rebellion, the grey oztheth are thtarving to death and I’m about to be kicked from the Villainouth League. I need thomething that will rethtore my honour and prethtige. I heard thith wath the playth to get really thtrong monthterth which obey without quethtion, tho here I am!”

Rosenhoff pulls out a small glass-stoppered phial of water, inside which floats a pale orange blob. Gesturing to an audience member who conveniently brought a glass tank with him, she theatrically unstoppers the phial and tips its contents into the tank. Defying all logic, water continues to flow from the phial until the tank is three-quarters full. The tank’s owner manages to hold the weight at chest-level, panting heavily, his face beetroot-red.

All that is left is the blob, which has wedged itself in the narrow mouth of the phial. Rosenhoff, unfazed, shakes the phial as you would a stubborn bottle of ketchup. Finally, with a loud ‘pop’, the blob tumbles into the tank, growing to the size of a football in the process. The blob, now that everyone can see it clearly, turns out to be a large fish with rubbery whiskers and an undersized top hat.

Rosenhoff turns and bows to Bartholomew. “Apologies for the delay. What your daughter needs is a Hilarious River Catfish.”

“How is that thing in any way hilarious?” asks a bemused spectator.

Rosenhoff stares incredulously at the spectator. “How is a fish in a top hat not hilarious? Besides which, this fish has a few special features. Watch.”

She plunges her arm into the tank, ignored by the placid catfish, and tickles its belly. The fish immediately flops upside down, bubbles streaming from its mouth, the top hat miraculously remaining on its head.

“It’s dying!!!” someone screams. Several people faint.

“It’s not! It’s not!” Rosenhoff shouts hurriedly. “It’s laughing!” The fish rolls back over, still snorting bubbles. “See? Not dead.

“Now, you may have noticed that the top hat remains attached to the fish. If you try to touch the hat, well…” She reaches for the hat, but just as her fingers touch it the fish tilts itself upwards and opens its mouth. Now that Rosenhoff’s hand is inside the fish’s mouth, the fish presses its lips together, sealing the hand inside.

“It’s eating her hand!” the same person from before screams. Several more people faint.

“IT’S NOT!!!” Rosenhoff yells, exasperated. “It has no teeth! River catfish never do! All this fish can do is tickle you with its tongue a bit. It’s just very protective of its hat, and- Oh forget it.” She taps the hat, prompting the fish to let her go.

“I’m sorry that this fish can offer you no counselling or calming consumables,” Rosenhoff says to Bartholomew, “but I don’t think those things are what your daughter wants or needs. She needs more joy in her life, and this hilarious catfish can give that to her. What better way to fight fear than with laughter?”

Prefix, Material, Beast