Awwww. Family is the blood you choose.

I can't quite put my philanges on it...

First thought of mine too

[removed]

Rule of cool baby!

Realm stood with a casual demeanor as his assailants circled him, his hands held in his pockets as he does. They clearly expected him to break down, beg for mercy, or try some deception to escape, but there he stood, unwavering. They clearly were not prepared for the emotional attrition required to win such a standoff, and nobody wants to be known as the one who cut down a healer, but that didn't extend to verbal abuse, clearly.

"Stand down! The citadel is ours, and your defenses have crumbled!" One of the more gruff warriors belted at him, a large woman, who looked as though she could break him over her knee like he were a random stick, which was probably true.

"No." Two minutes, he needed to buy two minutes, and despite the consequences of failing to do so, he felt no pressure in the slightest. He looked at the woman with an almost bored expression, paying no heed to the bodies of his allies, his friends around him.

The soldiers all looked like they were about to have a vein burst, they all must have been fuming at this situation. Nobody could do a thing to him, not because there were rules about it, but because of how quickly information spread. People talk, and one way or another someone would find out about a healer being killed, the reputation of the killer would be ruined within days, even quicker if it was known that the reason involved a bad attitude. Fortunately for Realm, this means that they'll be hesitant, especially fortunate because he is not harmless, and he is in fact not unarmed.

"And what exactly do you think you have here? Your friends are dead, we killed your warriors! We already have your general's head on a pike!" One of the more angry looking men clambered forward, holding a spear up to Realms neck, something at which he didn't flinch.

One minute, fifty seconds.

"You won't see it, the most dangerous threats are the ones that go unnoticed." This tactic was tried and true, giving them just enough information to keep them hesitating, keeping your true intentions veiled at all times. Realm felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, but he managed to make his expression reflect only disinterest.

"You're bluffing! I'm going to walk right past you, those doors have nothing stopping me." The man wound up as though they would strike him, but they decide against it. An attempt to open the doors revealed they were blocked from the inside, as the inner chamber would be, "Ugh, of course it's barricaded. Get the ram!"

Realm made no attempt to stop them, simply stepping to the side as he watched them with his hands in his pockets. One minute, thirty seconds. Unfortunately he didn't have the resources to do what he needed to any faster, so this would have to do. He simply took deep breaths, enjoying the scent of almonds that permeated the air now, unnoticed by the bloodstained warriors.

"One minute left, you may want to leave. Pretty soon occupying this area will be impossible." Realm didn't raise his voice, he just stated a fact, though he omitted about half a minute for his own sake.

"Shut up! Your mind games won't work, we know you've lost! That doesn't change whether you admit it or-" The gruff woman screamed at him, but after seeing something behind him she shifted into a salute. Realm turned around to see a sight he was dreading.

Behind Realm stood one of the generals of the radiant highlands, Red Grover. Nobody called him General Grover, Red Grover just had a ring to it that the soldiers liked, it inspired fear and laughter any time someone misspoke and said Red Rover. Despite all of this, Realm didn't waver, simply giving a lazed salute when he saw him.

"You left one alive?" Red sized Realm up for a second, before snorting and moving past, "Status on breach? The inner chamber is the only safe haven they have left."

"Moments away sir, this wannabe mastermind got us spooked for a second, but he's just a harmless medic." The woman drops the salute and turns to the rest of the soldiers, who had slowed in their attempts to ram the door down.

Realm hadn't anticipated they would attempt physical labor during this, that speeds things up drastically. He waited patiently, only a few moments until he saw the sign. It started with one man, one man coughing and collapsing to one knee, trying to catch their breath. The rest laughed at the one man's misfortune, thinking nothing of it, until another started, and another.

"What the? What's going on?" Red bellowed out, taking a step towards his men as though to intimidate them into working harder, though little did he know that would be his last step.

A bolt of radiant light pierced through the general's chest, he was seemingly unwounded at first, but after a second he collapsed to the ground with a hand clutching his chest. When the gruff woman looked back Realm was holding up two fingers that were pointed at him. It was the perfect moment to explain to all of those present what was going on, it was too late anyways.

"Hydrogen Cyanide. I didn't have a lot, the dosage was meant for one or two people, not a dozen. Don't worry, none of you will die, you'll just take a nice, long nap, and by the time you wake up the siege will be over." Realm walked forward as he adjusted his sleeves, knocking on the door rhythmically as he cups his hand, the remaining gas in the air concentrating above his palm.

"What- how? What did you do to-" The woman coughed as she tried to lift her weapon at him, but by now the poison had been present long enough to weaken her muscles, "What did you do to the general?"

"Oh, Grover. He's dead, don't worry, his death didn't hurt too bad, at least not compared to wounds." The sound of the barricade moving brought a smile to Realm's face, and he turned back to face everyone, about half of them had passed out by now, the others were vainly trying to gasp for breath, breath that would not come, not until he healed them, "I stopped his heart, apply radiant magic just right and the heart gets thrown out of rhythm, shuts down, and boom."

"You still... lost." The woman had collapsed, but was clearly still awake, "They're all dead."

"Again, no." Realm pulled out a glowing purple gem, holding it above her while shaking it, "Soul gem. What's normally cruel and illegal will be my friend's salvation. I'm sure they'll be cross with me for using it, but I don't care, I don't care that planning for the worst meant hurting them, I would rather have hurt friends than no friends."

Realm turned back to the door as it opened, beholding what was on the other side. Realm was going to get into a heap of trouble, but the healing circle assembled in there, along with the shelves of similarly glowing gems would save everything. In just a few minutes, every ally who perished would return, good as new.

The woman looked on in shock, her eyes going wide before her eyes lulled over. There's work to be done, and a siege to undo.

j"Triboli, Triboli", the voice practically screeched from just outside my quaint camp. Damien, I wonder what drunken stupidity he and his friends had done now. Sighing I set down the flask I had previously been oh so carefully swirling above a small, but carefully made therefore raging hot, fire. God I missed Jouleen, she could have got the potion done half an hour ago. Fire mages truly were a healers best friends, and her case a little more than that I remembered more than somewhat bitterly. I again chided myself for that mess, I'd sworn to never get that -, my thoughts were interrupted by yet another shout of 'Triboli', whoever the fuck that was.

"Damien you impotent excuse for a twit", I swore whilst throwing open the flap of my alchemist tent. The young man in question was standing, or rather half leaning against, a pile of wood just past the deer trail that had now become well worn in by idiots like him. As I stormed closer I could smell the spirits reeking off of the thinly made adventurer, his eyes also showed the clear glassy signs of alcohols minor (at least for now) poisoning of the brain. I stopped a mere foot from his face, I half expected him to recoil knowing the blind rage upon my face, but a mixture of bravado and inebriation kept the tan youth from doing more than donning a dopey frown. "It's Trisoli, Trisoli, with an 'S'. An 'S' like in ssssnake".

Damien simply looked at me, the same mask of stupidity still plastered on his face. "Ohh", he finally slurred with a bout of high proof breathe, "Well Omar needs you Triboli, he says Danicia's hurt.". I inhaled sharply, debating whether I should berate him before or after casting a spell that would give him the worst hangover of his life. I instead dismissed the idea though, even if Omar had been keeping up with Damien today for him to not be able to treat someone meant it was at least moderately serious. That was the main perk of the drunken old fool I thought as I turned and began walking back towards my tent.

"Well are you going to stand there, or get my fucking basket from underneath that willow", I ordered without looking back. Behind me the sound of wood hitting the ground and stumbling footfalls brought me brief joy as I imagined him falling face first into the mud. That joy barely survived to my tent however, when the sound of my precious and precisely made tonics clinking violently together sailed through the air. "And be careful with it you damned idiot", I said before reentering the comfortable embrace of my workshop, cursing under my breathe the entire time.

[removed]

That was outstanding work !

I suppose it depends on the rules - I would think they could pick one up and swing it around but would not get any proficiency bonuses compared to say a warrior class.

There is another angle to consider while I think about it - axes are not technically sharp weapons (sits somewhere between a blunt and sharp weapon when you think about it) so technically might not be against a healers / priests weapon code of 'no sharp weapons' but also would likely offer no magical benefit compared to a staff of some sort.

So might be technically possible but balanced out by being significantly less efficient and/or having restrictive conditions about when it can be done so (say only as a last survivor situation like in the story) - I'm guessing you meant in a table top RPG environment like dungeons and dragons, right ?

I like the sudden genre shift, very nice!

I open /r/ writingpromts as a first time writer looking to flex my muscles and start my journey to writing a book.

Im hooked so many choices, so many options, I've always been full of ideas and now I'm feed the start of any kind of story I would like to write.

I Take a brief look over the FAQ before the weekly Smash_em_up catch's my eye.

Temporal fiction, hmm i think I could string together something about time.

Ever since I've started working form home and I made a reddit account there was time enough at last to focus on what I wanted to do, and now that I didn't have to talk to any one and just had to wiggle my mouse every now and then to show that I'm active, I can write all day- I know I should be working but hey with everything that's been going on I need a break lately I've just been feeling like I cant catch up.

I open my word doc to start a draft and it prompts me to pick up where I left off, I don't remember writing any thing? better open it to see what I was doing and if its important.

Ok odd, its a short story about time loops and a man repeating the same thing over and over again- this is crazy I was just looking at at a writing prompt for this exact topic, i must have started this another time and never finished it, hey its not spilt milk so im not crying my work is already done, thanks past me lol.

I enter the story in the comment box on reddit, check the spelling and spacing and hit the post button.

Ok Reddit must be playing up its just taken me back to the front page of writing prompts and when I go to check the comment thread I can't find my post at all, its not even open in word any more.

I open word again and get the same prompt to pick up where I left off, ok odd i thought I had saved last time, but hey thanks Microsoft, I click open.

Maybe I didn't read it fully last time the story draft seems the same but now its a Time Tunnel and a story of a man trying to go back along 'times tunnel' to try and escape the loop he is caught in, it still fits the word count and looks good so I shake my head, must need an energy drink or maybe more sleep. I save the document to the desktop.

This time I triple check, I'm in the right place, the right comment box, I have copied and pasted it from the word doc, the story fits all categories.

I hit the post button.

Ok what the f**K.

Back at the same point again, front page of writing prompts, my word doc is closed.

Ok maybe this is more a computer problem and not a reddit problem, because when I go to look for my word doc on my desktop its gone again.

I'm getting worried now, I might have to do some work to pay for computer repair and I don't want that.

I go to open word a third time, and see the same error again asking to pick up where I left off, I click yes.

A third document this time the theme has changed a lot, this one is a story that talks about Anachronism and how some events are locked and cant be changed but different paths will branch of from this point, this story's tone is very glum and I don't remember writing the main character as sad but resigned accepting his fate.

Man this is crazy I really want to write about this topic but something is gonig on with my computer or maybe my brain, and looking at the time its almost closed for submissions, I get the bright idea to message the moderator who posted the story prompt and ask for a time extension.

I give a brief run down of what's going on and send the message off.

And again I'm back at the front page of writing prompts, but have a flashing icon that some has messaged me back.

Its from Cody_fox23!

'Hello Ishouldbeworking01, yes I've given you a time extension, I thought this might happen when I chose time as the subject, I've seen it happen many times before, It was one of many outcomes that could have happened.

Well, I see before you killed my friends they did some serious damage. I took an oath to heal you, and so here you are, healed, in my care. I’ve fulfilled my obligation to mend your bodies.

Now you’ll find that as I foil my obligation to my friends to avenge their deaths I can cause you an enormous amount of pain without damaging your bodies at all. And this far from a city no one will hear your screams.

Of course I can also paralyze you so you can’t make a sound. You there, if you pump these bellows I’ll give you a quick end. No not like that, you’ll damage his organs. Yes, much better. Don’t stop or you’ll lose your reprieve.

And now we begin.

One more tonight, the rest tomorrow.

I like this take on the prompt. Very clever interpretation of dangerous!

The young monk knelt in front of his attackers, not because he had surrendered, but because he was too injured to fully stand.

The mage was crumpled next to him, her robes gradually turning crimson from the inside out. The mighty barbarian was inching towards her, knees dragging, breath failing due to all the broken ribs. The paladin was out cold. If he ever came to again, his career was likely over, even if he was lucky enough to even able to speak words ever again.

The monk was only glad his mother wasn't alive to see him in this sorry state. She never wanted him to be a hero. Heroes die early. At the end of the day, her own sacrifice had proven her right. And yet, instead of heeding common sense, instead of listening to her and learning from her mistakes, he had followed in her footsteps, with gusto. Humans were stupid like that.

That's probably why they were a dying race.

The Dark Khan's Force Commander stood before them, sneering just enough to expose his left fang. He was not impressed.

"I was hoping for more." The Commander kicked the monk in the side of the head, knocking him into the mud. It wasn't even that painful. The Commander hadn't wasted his breath.

As he tried to stand back up, he got one last look at his down party. Right now he didn't have the mana to heal a paper cut, let alone raise them back up.

I didn't think it was going to end this way.

...

His mother hadn't actually taught him the secret, but he was such a bookworm in his youth that he had managed to piece it together anyways. It wasn't hard really. Adrenaline, relaxation, and a severe disregard for one's life were all it took. A very small spark of mana had to be applied to a specific portion of the brain. The runes needed to be tattooed into the flesh in advance, but they were surprisingly simple and easy to hide. That's what it came down really: subtlety. The slightest changes in the right spots could turn the human body into an engine of destruction, but only for a little while. Then, once the spell wore off, the debt would be paid.

That is why, when the Dark Khan came for their family, he was the only survivor, not her.

...

"Sorry, mom." He whispered to himself.

The Commander chuckled. "Interesting last words. Don't fret child." He drew his sword. "You'll be reunited with her soon."

The monk didn't acknowledge him. He just kept staring at his friends, the closest thing to family he had left.

Maybe it wasn't quite how she felt that day. But, hopefully it was close enough.

Hot steam began to rise from his back, arms, and hair. The commander raised an eyebrow and took a step back as the mud around the young monk began to boil.

"What magic is this?"

The boy took solace. He always imagined that his mother's final moments were excruciatingly painful but... this actually felt kind of good.

Realizing that any further hesitation would endanger his party, the Force Commander lunged forward with his sword, aiming for a quick decapitation.

CRACK!!

But he was too late. In just one second, the brazen boy was standing erect, posed several steps behind the Force Commander, his arm outstretched and fingers straight.

The Force Commander hadn't even finished kneeling, nor had his head hit the ground yet, before the doomed monk fell upon the Khans. He'd be the last thing most of them saw, though many of them would just see afterimages.

As for the monk's adopted family, they would live.

And to him, that was all that mattered.

I held the image of the reddish-pink footprints on the stark green digital background in my mind as I turned around and surveyed my surroundings one last time. I readied myself to use my secret ability, what had originally granted me my twisted form and unnatural height. I had once as a young man used this ability several times, before I knew the incredible importance of motivation and personal connection. This time I was convinced I could control it. I had never felt so motivated before, and couldn’t remember a connection ever as strong as the one I’d formed over the past four months. I suppose it’s similar to how sensation is the most vivid and sharp when it’s first returned to a limb that’s been “asleep”. Time to find some answers.

After an hour’s hike—which, the back of my attention told me meant this was premeditated, since I’d never strayed more than a quarter hour’s walk away when foraging—I came to the edge of a forest and found myself at gunpoint, just outside a chain link fence topped with lazy loops or razor wire, with security checkpoints periodically throughout its length.

Well, well, well. What have we here? grated a voice off to one side out of a hidden speaker. I froze. I knew that voice. There always was only one. “Many mouths, and one voice.” I remembered a brochure on a table bearing that slogan, hearing the same voice, and my parents voices outside arguing quietly, but heatedly. I try not to remember the events that happened after that.

There was a fight coming, and it had just gotten even more personal. But first, I had to endure a sermon from the Zealots.

———————————————

That’s all I’ve got time for for now, but in the next section I should be able to finish the final bit of necessary worldbuilding—explaining who/what the Zealots are, but after that I’ll get to the epic fight scenes, I promise.

You can find more verbose, rambling, unfinished drafts at r/PenPaladin

This is really good. I'd like to see the rest!

Good stuff, moar!(please tag me)

I am getting a slight feeling you might have medical experience.

No clue why I'd think that.

Well written!

Chapter 2?

"Step aside, or you'll be next."

"Cast Increase Blood Volume."

Caduceus was done playing. He raised his staff as a warning. "If you get in my way again, I will kill you."

"With what? Your stick?" the bandit asked, squinting.

"You feel that headache? That's your blood pressure rising rapidly. Dizziness comes next, then vision blurring."

There was a low groan from Caduceus's ally, Helios. It was ragged, the sound of a cleric saying his last prayers to his God. Good, that he had regained consciousness, but there wasn't much time before he would succumb to his injuries too.

The bandit clutched his chest in shock. "What did you d-"

"Cast Bloodletting."

The effect was instant. Caduceus's diagnostic cantrips flared to life, highlighting the bandit's heart as his aorta ruptured. The bond between him and his God wavered, reminding him of his duty.

Do no harm.

Well, fuck that duty.

The bandit yelled in pain, bent over, and Caduceus pushed him over with his staff. Death within 120 seconds, announced his cantrip.

"Who's next."

A blast of energy landed menacingly between Caduceus and Helios, but this was close enough for the healer to work. Severe breathing difficulties, low blood oxygen levels, along with multiple broken ribs. He cast a more advanced diagnostic spell on the cleric. Significant volume of air and blood in the chest cavity. Definitely a tension pneumothorax. Death within 120 seconds if untreated, and it wouldn't be a painless death.

A more acute approach was necessary against their ranged attackers then. Once the first bandit passes away, Caduceus's God would be sure to withdraw His grace. The blaster was charging up his next shot, so that would be the primary target. Caduceus withdrew a scalpel from within his robe. He wasn't sure if the spell had the necessary range, but there's no time like the present to find out. He closed his eyes, focusing on the diagnostic cantrips. From afar, he could sense the blaster's heavy breathing.

"Cast Incision."

As Caduceus sliced the air in front of him, the blade reached out, passing through the blaster's neck, and into his trachea. With another swipe, the healer tore the blaster's neck open. The bandits around him recoiled in shock as blood spurted out of his neck. But Caduceus didn't need to see them to harm them. Their respiratory systems lit up like bonfires in the night sky. Tachypneic breathing, possible hyperventilation. Diagnosis: mortal terror, and the good healer shall be dispensing emergency surgical interventions from afar.

As the last neck exploded into a shower of blood, everything faded to black. He opened his eyes in shock, cursing his God's name. Why now? There's still a life to be saved! He rushed to Helios's side. Although his God had withdrawn his magical gifts, Caduceus still had a lifetime of medical knowledge within him. He tore Helios's robe open with a pair of shears. His chest was heaving ineffectually, and there was a distinct imbalance as he tried to breathe.

The cantrips had highlighted the pneumothorax in an alarming shade, and he knew from experience that Helios was on the verge of death. From a pocket inside his coat, Caduceus withdrew a vial of alcohol and a disturbingly large needle in a tube.

"Relax, Helios. Your God clearly hasn't abandoned you. Focus on my voice."

He washed his hands, the needle, and the side of Helios's chest with the alcohol, then took a swig for good measure.

"The left lung has collapsed. Each inhalation brings more air into the chest, which cannot escape without help. Keep breathing though."

Caduceus counted ribs. "Treatment requires a chest tube to be inserted. The Temple traditionally recommends inserting it between the second and third rib, but experience suggests performing it at the fifth rib, where the chest wall is thinner. A needle is inserted to allow the excess air to escape."

Helios's eyes snapped open as Caduceus pushed the needle in, and air hissed out of the tube. The cleric's breathing eased, and he grimaced as the healer eased the tube against his chest wall.

"Air now escapes through a one-way valve." Caduceus continued, as he taped the end of the tube against his chest. "You feeling better?"

Helios swore loudly. Good, his state of consciousness wasn't impaired. It would be bad if he said something stupid like, "Maybe I should break my sacred Oath too".

"Once you're ready, I'm going to need you to get up and to start casting. You're still down a lung and I don't need my God's aid to know that you're still struggling to breath."

"But?"

"But I'm going to need your help getting us back to the nearest Temple. You'll need proper medical attention to reinflate your lung and to fix your ribs."

Helios stood up shakily, holding his polearm for dear life. Caduceus slinged the cleric's left arm over his shoulder, and gripped his wrist and clothing firmly.

"You ready?"

He opened his palm. Give me a moment.

"Alright, take your time. We've got all the time in the world."

Redo of a Healer? Yeah. Pretty sure it is.

All of them were dead—every single one. I vowed revenge, just as I had vowed to protect them with everything I had. Broken promises are a powerfully destructive force. My options were to seek the catharsis of revenge, or let the broken shards of my promise inside me grind around and tear me apart.

I had a secret. One that I had vowed never to use unless I was in danger of burning myself out in a single del swoop. I knew they were dead, in a funny little ironic way that only healing magic could provide. I knew exactly what was wrong, how they had died, and that I could do nothing about it. As I ran into the forest clearing where they had been about to set up camp—they were experts at setting up camp now, or at least, had been—I had just enough presence of mind to know they were gone. One advantage of being a healer for so long is the ability to let go, even if it hurts. But it was a good thing that it did hurt. In the same way a slap to the face, a bucket of cold water, or touching a hot stove could wake you up, the hurt of a sudden loss caused me to become more alert, ready to fight, or run, and then fight.

Ever since the world rediscovered magic, technology has been pretty much useless. In fact, the resurgence of magic had caused most tech to melt or lock up, and was what had caused the first apocalypse. Monsters of our own making still roamed the world, augmented by breeding programs, gene hacking, and K’r{inaudible} knows what else. They survived the environmental hazards much better than we did at first. My parents had been monster hunters, which was what had originally spurred me to seek out magic. A world run by angels and demons and artificial intelligence in tandem made for a cruel master. But I still, despite being a strong user of magic, took precautions to preserve a few choice pieces of technology.

I’d found my holo-goggles in an underground bunker my grandfather had insisted on making, still shrink-wrapped in the original packaging. You could always tell where the crazy nutters like him had lived, because sticking out from the slag would be a huge concrete cube at a funny angle, often still with the burned and twisted remains of a bombed-out house bolted on to the top. Bless him, but I do miss him. Zombies would have been almost easier to deal with than all of everything we eventually did end up with.

I shook myself out of my thoughts and pulled the goggles out of their special protective hidden pocket in the backpack I always wore beneath my cloak. I couldn’t use them long, because the background radiation—both magical and classic-style—would do enough damage even if I didn’t magnify it. So I held very still, slowing my breathing in an almost meditative exercise as I pulled them out in a fluid motion, held them to my face, and scanned the area. I spotted the tracks I needed and committed them to memory, then continued the follow-through of my practiced motion, tucking the glasses back into their pouch and reseating the weight of my bag. A minute of slow calm, maybe five seconds of controlled movement, and then it was over. When I move too fast, parts of me turn clear. When I’m in a heightened emotional state, I can slip and suddenly that limb or digit is filled with glowing golden power. Unhelpful unless I intend to use it, especially so if I’m near technology I don’t intend to damage.

I can fly!...an inch off the ground.

I can teleport!...vertically.

I have invincibility!...in my right leg.

I can carry incredibly heavy loads!...but only if they fit in this tiny backpack.

I have access to hammerspace!...but the items contained within don't get lighter.

Sigh

I've purchased these powers and items over the course of thirty years. They're my world's equivalent of penny stocks. Nobody actually wants them, but they sound great on paper. Of course, no one actually advertises the drawbacks; that's for the buyer to find out.

I bought each thing with great expectations, only to be let down each time. I sigh as I analyze my newest purchase, the small hammerspace chest that seems to weigh as much as a bus. It's sitting on a shelf here at the Super Store.

Just as I'm trying to figure out how to drag it home, the shelf breaks. Somehow out of instinct, I duck forward, rather than jumping away. (I never had great instincts.) But, as I brace my muscles for the impact that's sure to come, all I hear and feel is a small plop as the chest falls into my backpack.

I felt that. I know that I did. But, that can't be right. That tiny hammerspace chest weighs a ton. Literally! I should've been crushed just now.

I shuffle a bit on my feet, and I hear the chest clicking inside my backpack. My eyes nearly pop out of my head as I begin to realize what just happened.

I've created a BAG OF HOLDING! Not only that, but the things I've accumulated can COMBINE!?

I rush out of the store, and race to a nearby park. I need to know if the other things can combine as well! I take off my backpack but leave the chest inside it. I then put my hand inside the bag, and inside the chest, and I begin rummaging. Apparently whoever previously owned this chest must've stuffed it full. No wonder it was so heavy! I lay the various items on the ground and analyze them. Too many things to list individually. But there's all sorts of weapons, shields, amulets, etc., and it looks like they can combine, too! I put a fire amulet with a basic steel sword...a flaming sword! How has literally no one done this before!?

I put everything away, deciding that a public park probably isn't the best place to experiment with all this stuff. I pick up my Bag of Holding, which is still light as a feather.

Next, the fun part. I teleport 10 feet into the air, then fall. I deliberately land on my invincible leg, and it drives a foot-shaped hole into the dirt. I get a huge grin. I teleport 15 feet up, and when I'm 5 feet off the ground, I teleport again, coming out sideways. My momentum changes my direction, and I "fly" one inch off the ground about 100 yards in just a few seconds.

My grin gets bigger. I repeat the teleport/teleport/glide function a few times, until I'm outside of town, near an abandoned building that's scheduled for demolition next week. I teleport 20 feet into the air, then drop 15 feet, then teleport sideways. But this time, I extend my invincible leg as I glide on the other, and I break down the door of the abandoned building.

Ohhhhhhhhh... THIS IS GONNA BE FUUUUUUUUUUUN!