[removed]

I love this unique take on the prompt. Please write more. I have to know more about this world.

This is interesting and can be taken two ways depending on the missing background. Either the castle folk are hateful of dragons and magic and resent Belthas for reaching out to them. Or Belthas is an evil wizard who is starting up his dastardly ways to take over the kingdom that his good brother Rorath was trying to stop.

Apparently, "Heroing Without A License" is a capital offense in the Country of Blister. Emerald wished he'd known that last week, before he rushed into the burning hotel to save the crying girl. Emerald still would've saved her; he simply would've paid the five gold pieces first.

However, he hadn't paid, and now he was facing execution. The girl he'd saved was even forced to testify against him. She'd praised Emerald at the trial; she'd even looked Emerald in the eyes and thanked him for saving her life. Unfortunately, the prosecutor had used the girl's testimony against him, and the judge had no choice but to rule "Guilty as charged."

Emerald had tried to offer payment for his deed. However, the law was clear. It didn't matter that Emerald was able to pay for the license after the fact. It didn't matter that Emerald was from the Country of Dragonbreath. Diplomatic immunity wasn't offered in Blister. The judge cited precedent and various case laws, basically saying, "We set the license price high because we don't want inexperienced people to foolishly try heroing and get themselves killed. Nor do we want to be responsible for unvetted outsiders coming in, getting themselves killed, and having to deal with an angry international bureaucrat."

Essentially, Blister was making an example out of Emerald, to let other kingdoms and countries know "we mean business."

The execution date was set for one week after the trial. Dragonbreath was notified, merely as a courtesy. This was Blister's blunder. Emerald was married to a dragoness, and when she heard that her Mate was to be executed over "a mere scrap of paper," she was...displeased.

So, when Is'ti'ti crash landed on the wall and began bellowing burning blasphemies before Blister's bishops, Emerald wasn't surprised.

"Release my human hunny-bunny, and we will leave you all in peace. Do not, and I will reduce your walls to rubble to rescue them myself!"

Blister's bishops quicky conferred. They solemnly summoned the judge. After all, he was the one who gave sentence; the bishops preferred to be in the background.

The judge stood before Is'ti'ti, and he tried to summon his courage. In his courtroom, the judge ruled. Before this dragon, however, the only power he had was that of his office...which wasn't anything Is'ti'ti cared about.

"Lady dragon, I am confused. Our nation holds no prisoner of your concern, I assure you."

Is'ti'ti scowled. "You are 'holding' our HUSBAND, who you have promised to KILL today." Smoke began rising from Is'ti'ti's nostrils, a sure sign that her rage was being kindled.

Upon hearing the word "husband," the judge became disgusted. "No human would marry a dragon! No self-respecting man would ever be such a deviant! Such a thing would be against every moral codex ever written!" As the judge finished, the bishops all nodded in agreement.

Is'ti'ti smirked; she knew how to deal with these types. With a small click of her claws, she initiated a spell she had crafted, and she transformed from draconic into humanoid form.

To label her humanoid form beautiful would be a massive understatement. Her humanoid form stood a dominating eight feet tall. Her reddish golden skin shimmered in the sunlight. Firey red hair draped her back like a cloak of burning coals. Her eyes glistened like the purest diamonds of her hoard.

Is'ti'ti's smirk only grew larger as she approached the judge. "I can assure you, there are members of your race who would be so devious. I can certainly smell your response to seeing us in this form. And you're resisting your own urges as We speak."

Is'ti'ti placed a hand on the judges shoulder and gripped. Her sultry smirk changed into raging fury in an instant. "Now bring our husband here before we turn this wall into an ASH HEAP!"

Is'ti'ti flung the judge with a flick of her wrist. Just because she was in humanoid form didn't mean she was weak! The judge sailed backwards through the air, crashing into the bishops like a ball into bowling pins. However, with his adrenaline spiking, he managed to retort.

"Your scoundrel of a husband is within our walls!" The judge cried, going momentarily insane. "If you burn our walls to ash, he will burn along with them! Either way, OUR law will prevail!"

The judge started laughing like a maniac. Apparently he wasn't suited to be a bowling ball. Is'ti'ti sighed. The normal method wouldn't work, apparently.

Meanwhile, from his vantage point in his cell, Emerald could see everything happening on the wall. He tried sending mental transmissions to Is'ti'ti, but she was too far away. All Emerald could do was wait. He smiled, knowing that he would have quite a pleasant evening. Is'ti'ti always became frisky after transforming and expending magic. Emerald would always joke to Is'ti'ti that she was actually part succubus, to which she would just smirk and toss him into their bed.

Back on the wall, the judge had passed out from too much mental gymnastics. Is'ti'ti cast two spells. The first caused her to start hovering. The second caused the stones in the wall to start hovering as they separated from each other.

Is'ti'ti eyed the bishops. "Now. Will you bring us our husband? Or will I have to dismantle this city stone by stone?"

The bishops fled in a panic. They were simply too frightened to do anything else. Is'ti'ti groaned. This was going to take awhile.

Several hours, and many self-righteous guards later, Is'ti'ti reached the jail where Emerald was being held. The jailer, a dutiful man, spoke to Is'ti'ti.

"I'm afraid I can't let you just walk in here and take him." The jailer pointed at Emerald. "I think it's ridiculous to sentence a man to death for rescuing a young girl from a burning building. In fact, she was my own daughter! However, I cannot shirk my duty to guard this man."

Is'ti'ti looked at the jailer. He was still a younger man, though old enough to reasonably have a daughter of twelve. Is'ti'ti thought for a moment, then asked, "And what are we supposed to do? Just let your rulers kill our hunny-bunny, just because your rulers have some ridiculous law?"

The jailer merely shrugged. "I'm merely a humble jailer. I have a duty to perform. Though, I suppose you have one as well. Besides, the walls here, at least what's left of them, are known to have ears." The jailer positioned himself into a fighting stance with an obvious opening.

Is'ti'ti didn't miss the cue. She rushed forward and cast a sleeping spell on the jailer. As he slumped, she caught him, careful to not allow his head to hit the floor. She then broke Emerald's shackles and kissed him deeply. After it, Is'ti'ti scolded Emerald gently.

"You could've helped, you know."

Emerald chuckled. "I know. But I enjoy watching your theatrics almost as much as you enjoy doing them. And don't try to deny it." Emerald caressed Is'ti'ti's humanoid ears, sending shudders through her.

Is'ti'ti gently bopped Emerald on the back of the head as she caressed his back. "You really are a deviant. Our deviant. But this is neither the time nor the place. She whispered in Emerald's ear, "But there is a place."

Without another word, Is'ti'ti and Emerald left Blister. They went back to Is'ti'ti's home, and proceeded to know each other very well for the next three days.

Absolutely wonderful. Just perfect. I love it. I didnt even think about the trolley problem when i wrote my part, so its awesome that you used that as the tie in. Thanks so much for the 3/3!

"I'm sorry, you what?"

The gray-skinned annoyance at least had the good sense to look embarrassed. "I shot lightning."

Muttering furiously, the well-built hyena woman started flipping through an elaborately bound volume that could only be described as a "tome." Finally, she found the page she was looking for. Holding it out, she exclaimed "This? You did this?"
The indicated page depicted a complex equation next to an equally elaborate circle diagram, tightly packed notes surrounding both, arrows pointing everywhere and seemingly random sentences underlined.

Squinting, the balding goblin-esque man examined the page.

"Ugh, I hate wearing these," he muttered as he drew out a pair of reading glasses. "Not like my hairline is enough, no, I have to look even older."

"Quit the griping and look, you infuriating ditz. My arms are getting tired."

"Yeah, yeah." Standing directly in front of the outstretched tome, red eyes darting back and forth in sharp concentration, Driz examined the thick vellum sheet. Finally looking up, he met his friend's eyes. "I think I understood some of those words."

Angry, yipping laughter escaped as Tr'vel "Trix" Qinso threw her book in the air. The execution of her actions hit a moment later, and she scrambled to grab her spellbook before gravity acquainted it with the muddy ground they had paused on.

"Un-goddamn-believable. Doesn't understand ionization, couldn't tell you the difference between amp, watt, and volt, but is totally capable of doing the exact same spells I can." Here, she paused. "Well...at least some of them. Glad I'm not completely useless here."

She marched back to the sheepish Driz. "Show me."

"Why?"

"Gotta see. Compare."

Driz shrugged. "Suit yourself." Shaking his shoulders out, he cracked his neck. Attempted to. "AGH, I PULLED THE TENDON. FUCK. GET HELP." Trix rolled her eyes and slapped him upside the head. "AG-hey, that's better. How's that better?"

"Focus, you ding-dong."

Pouting slightly, Driz retorted, "don't gotta be mean about it." Finally going still, he pointed his hands forward, his 12 fingers in a complicated shape as he focused.

Trix surreptitiously pulled out her own glasses, artificer-made, allowing her to see the magic somewhat more directly. They were a bit too cumbersome for combat but were invaluable at times like this.

With a shouted eldritch invocation that gave her a slight headache, Driz finally completed his spell. Watching it happen, Trix was able to observe that, unlike her own version of the spell, which manifested in a clean line of plasma, Driz's lightning spell looked more like, well, lightning.

"Fascinating." She hadn't even noticed she'd been scribbling down notes, her charcoal pen flying across the pages of her observation notebook. "The invocation clearly isn't natural but to so accurately mimic a natural phenomenon so closely means it has to be calling on some aspect of lightning..." Driz got lost after this, her verbal excitement trailing into muttering, mixing in technical terms that gave him a slight headache when he attempted to decipher them.

He casually sauntered over, completely unnoticed as she wrote in her notebook, her entire field of vision and world tunneling into the page. Attempting to read the page made him dizzy, so he went to a nearby tree and sat down.

He stared enviously as he watched her break down what he had done, completely lost to him. He loved how his magic felt thrumming in his veins, but even as he was able to shape it (or did it shape him?) to fit his needs, he would never understand it the way she did. Couldn't see whatever way it all fit together into the larger world. He shook his head and leaned back. This would take up at least an hour, and firing off two of the bolts in a row made him tired. Plenty of time for a snooze.

Celia roamed through the palace gardens, all by herself. A masterpiece her mom had planned and built with the help of other workers for the palace grounds. It was a worldwide phenomenon but only the inhabitants of the castle could enjoy it.

It was festooned with a variety of flowers and vines all from different parts of the country. It was set up in a terrace farming pattern, walls upon walls of clay with greenery flowing over. The garden was the perfect place to get lost in nature and take a peaceful stroll perfect for contemplation.

Celia being able to run around the gardens was one perk her mom had being an employee of the Royal Kennard family. And it was a major perk since Celia was endlessly entertained for hours. Her mom never watched her too closely but she noticed that Celia would always be in good spirits and she would talk to the flowers or plants or.... something like that.

Her mom was concerned. Celia seemed to have conversations with someone in the gardens but no one was ever there.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Sarah the guard said. "Kids have imaginary friends all the time."

"Yeah. I suppose you're right," Celia's mom said. "But she's eleven years old. It just seems like she should have outgrown that phase by now."

Both of them were taking a break, eating lunch on the massive patio made of smooth cream colored stone. They watched Celia from afar. She was chatting with something that wasn't there.

"I just can't believe you can see me. I've been traveling through these walls so much recently, but no one seems to hear me. And of course, they don't see me either. But here you are, you can communicate with me like... I'm alive!" A man said. He didn't appear out of the ordinary, just a normal looking man. Young and in his 30s. He was in a nice fitted suit.

"Who are you anyway?" Celia asked.

"Really? You don't know who I am?"

Celia shook her head. "Should I?"

"Why, I'm the king. Or, I used to be the king. I'm the grandfather to king Benjamin, I ruled for 30 wonderful years. And now I have since passed on, and no one seems to remember me. But I'm King Morris." He sighed.

"Oh. I think I've seen you in paintings... Maybe?"

Morris felt a little sting but it didn't bother him. "You're pretty young I suppose. Why would you know me? It doesn't matter anyways. It's refreshing actually, talking with someone who's not gawking at you and who's not afraid to speak their mind."

"So are you a ghost then? I see a lot of them on the grounds but we haven't talked before."

Morris exhaled. "It's overwhelming coming to the realization that I am a spirit, and that's all I will be for the rest of time, but yes I am a ghost. I've been staying in the royal quarters though lately. It's been my goal to try and find a way to communicate to King Benjamin and his family. I really don't like this treaty they're trying to sign. Not to mention, he's making a huge mistake by not spending more time with his family. He's letting the work of the kingdom consume him and he needs to take a step back."

Celia shrugged. "I could try talking to him for you, if you'd like?"

Morris' lip curled up. "That would be wonderful. The only thing is, the family is quite insulated from everyone else... Your mom is the gardener though, right?"

"Yes."

"Let me think... I feel an idea forming." Morris gazed out into the garden, deep in contemplation.

r/randallcooper

I'd be quite flattered to be honest! I'm glad you enjoyed it so much.

You know when it is that long and you don't even realize it, because the flow is so smooth. Well written, nice pacing, if this was a short story or a book, I am certain the only way I would put it down was when I reached the end.

Thank you! I'm kinda astonished how many people are sticking with me through this tale!

"I would like to talk to you about the two types of dragon. About the difference between good dragons and evil. I'm sure you know that good dragons do not care about hording treasure. They don't have endless piles of useless trinkets they protect religiously, in contrast to evil dragons, who amass sizable hordes of gold, silver, gemstones, rare artifacts and magical items.

However, this is a misconception. There isn't really "good" and "evil" dragons. It is merely a difference in what they value. The dragons that most humans would describe as evil are obsessed with things, with material objects that have great worth. Dragons that humans would describe as good are obsessed with people. A "good" dragon does not have a horde, but a territory. In that territory, the people are its treasure. They know every man, woman and child. They watch their lives from afar, seeing generations unfold and grow. Seeing a babe grow into adulthood, to fall in love and create new treasures, is one of a dragon's greatest joys in life. Some will leave it like that, while others will make their feelings known. On special occasions, holidays and festivals, they may fly down to feel what it is like to be surrounded by the beings they love so dearly. They protect them from invaders and interlopers, find food in times of famine and rescue those in peril. Often such dragons are worshipped as guadians by the thankful populace.

Of course, times aren't always happy in a dragon's territory. In times of plagues and disaster, the roars of a dragon can often be heard, a fury against a unfair world that would snuff out so many of their precious people. And occasionally, people will need to move away from a dragon's territory. While a dragon loves every one of their people, they will allow them to leave, for same reason they don't horde them in a cave like the other kind of dragon. If you were accepted by a dragon as their treasure, it matters not how far you go, or how long you are gone for, you will always be their treasure. Even if you leave to find your fortune in the capital and fall in love with the heir to a wealthy guildmaster who becomes your husband.

An "evil" dragon will burn down a kingdom to get back a single stolen coin. What do you think my godmother would do to you once word got back to the village how bandits kidnapped me? Shh. Do you hear that? It's the growing sound of wingbeats. A dragon comes to reclaim the treasure you so ignorantly stole. What will you do now?"

Good work.

My Nanowrimo project from 2013. I had been writing fanfiction and sporadic original stuff since middle school. In that almost decade of writing, I had only ever finished one fanfiction. (A fun and exciting accomplishment in of itself.) But it was Nanowrimo that gave me the discipline to finally finish an original project. The sensation of finishing an original manuscript, even if it's an imperfect, rushed mess, is hard to beat.

The more I played in that original world, the more I wanted to bring that story and others like it to more people. I learned how to listen to other, more experienced writers and editors, and have continued to iron out what many would consider 'beginner writer mistakes'. Still, I've now learned that getting an agent is significantly harder than writing, rewriting, and editing combined...

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I find the ,,quote" method interesting. Also, was kind of wondering if the once/year bit was part of the system that the genie never set up.

Good show old boy! (young girl? middle aged naked mole rat android?)

Correct. Ive no idea Why my brain decided to fumble my own cousins name. But it did

Noice! I hope you don't mind if I save this to my computer! (sourcing and attribution included, ofc)

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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The woman on the far left of the stage shifted slightly in her seat. Finally, she went to slap her hands on her knees as though to get up, thought better of it, and did a slightly more dignified stand from the chair.

Her jet black hair flowed behind her in a long ponytail, swinging softly from side to side as she daintily stepped through craters in the turf. She pulled idly at the sigil on her chain shirt, humming a soft lullaby from Arden.

Alder started at the gentle touch on his shoulder. "Euphemia Gregoria! How lovely to see you again."

She tittered softly, and there was a scent of mint on the air. "I'm having such a wonderful time trying to figure out these people. We were awful close to ending the war, but then this mess happens." She breathed a sigh and the air glittered and flashed in front of her. "These aren't the worst of the lot by a long stretch. I think we can settle this out. Further north, things get a little more dicey."

Alder snorted derisively. A whisker curled up, slightly singed.

"What's going on with these sailors? Why the stretched necks plan?"

"Oh, the usual small village politics. Mismanagement of this, fighting over that. The mayor figured they'd bring 'em out here, let the audience convict them, scare them a bit, see if they confess. The gallows don't even work. Watch." She jumped and grabbed a rope, and it pulled taut and then fell off the gallows limply to the floor. The sailors' faces crashed through anger, laughter, and then finally relief.

She settled back close to Alder. "Honestly, they were hoping to get them to confess to treason but I'm pretty sure they're on the up and up after standing at the gallows and holding true. A bit harsh though. It's true, they don't have a death penalty. They had to design these gallows from looking at a painting! Some influence from elsewhere is at hand. The sigil these people bear is a copy of one borne by a new king. It appears to be based on a real event. A battle."

That got his attention. A dragon downed was a rare thing, but a dragon downed on a field of combat? "Fighting for whom?"

"For them." She gestured expansively at the crowd. "But I haven't been able to find out why. The pair is very secretive."

"Ah. No wonder. I was frankly astonished Glassmaker let them paint him up like that. So a green and a blue. Do we know them?"

"No, but they know us. Keep your eyes wide open here Alder." She shifted her weight to her other leg and shouted up to the stage, "Satisfied Duncan?"

"Sir Duncan" he muttered. "Yes."

"Marvelous! Now, I believe we have a tea appointment tomorrow?"

Glassmaker gingerly slid his head down between them. "Indeed we do. I've invited some new guests as well! Do you know Cecil the Brave Alder?"

Alder's mouth dropped open. "Cecil... the brave? Wife's Petra?"

"THE SAME! They'll both be joining us." His grin looked all the more manic as another drop of blood fell from the gap in his smile.

WHUMP!

Captain Ivor unceremoniously dropped me onto the floor of the throne room, the chains around my wrist clanking loudly as they hit the ground. King Lawrence got out of his throne, walked over to the two of us, and said to Ivor, "Why is the side of your head bandaged?"

Ivor rubbed his wound and winced. "The girl bit my ear off."

Lawrence facepalmed. "Oh, for the love of--go get that treated already."

Ivor bowed and walked out of the room as I hissed at him. Lawrence sighed and knelt down beside me to say, "How long are you going to keep this up, June?"

I scoffed. "That depends. How long is forever?"

"I tolerated your... eccentricities for years now. When you became obsessed with the forest, I had it registered as a national landmark. When you insisted on learning to make potions, I had the royal apothecarian take you on as an apprentice. But this has gone too far. You're running around the forest in a cobbled together ranger uniform, living like a wild animal, assaulting the captain of the royal guard!"

"Feel like you're ignoring the part where you had me banished to the forest for making out with a baron's daughter."

Lawrence groaned in frustration and paced around angrily as he continued, "You are a princess, for God's sake! Your demeanor is reflective on all of the royal family! Your misbehavior is taken as evidence of--WILL YOU GET OFF THE FLOOR ALREADY?! I have had it with your tantrums!!"

I smirked. "I would, but it's really in my best interest to stay low."

"What do you mean in your--"

BOOM!

The doors to the throne room were blasted off their hinges and sent flying. Lawrence narrowly ducked to avoid them while I calmly watched them soar over my head and destroy the throne. Through the smoke that clouded the entryway, a dragon with burnt ochre scales emerged and stared down Lawrence murderously. Then she looked at me and happily said, "Hi pumpkin!"

I waved back and responded, "Hi mama!"

My mom turned her attention back to Lawrence and growled, "Take those chains off of my daughter or I'll flay the skin from your body and roast your exposed flesh."

Lawrence looked like he was pissing himself, but still found the anger to glare at me and say, "You allied yourself with the dragons?! That--that's treason! I'll have your head for this!"

I got on my feet as my mom replied, "First of all, June didn't ally herself with us, we adopted her. Second of all, my brother Ganymede burned the guillotine on the way here. Now you can either let my baby girl go or you can die screaming."

Lawrence got up and drew his sword. "I'll not let my kingdom fall to such--"

FWIP!

A blow dart lodged itself in Lawrence's throat, sending him falling back to the ground. From behind my mom's legs, a woman in her own makeshift ranger uniform appeared and smiled at me. My fiancee, Tulip. As she picked the lock on my chains, I said to her, "So how does it feel to be back in the castle after all this time?"

Once my chains were unlocked, Tulip took them off my wrists and purred, "Just as I remember it: empty of anything interesting save for you." I happily pulled Tulip into a kiss as my mom lowered her back and interjected, "Come on, you two. You can be adorable at home."

Tulip and I stopped kissing and got on my mom's back as I announced, "Bye Lawrence! Hope I never see you again!" With that, my mom turned around and flew out of the hole in the castle wall to begin the journey home.

Same here! It was really great writing.

[removed]

<3/3>

"Rocky, what are we doing here?" Harris's voice was level, but his eyes were wide. "This place is...it's all wrong."

"No," said Rocky, "it's almost right." The candles guttered low, their green-tinged bodies looking sickly below their flames. The runes were etched into the walls, this time; Rocky's wrists still hurt from the strain.

"It took me a long minute to get it," he said to Harris. "I hadn't connected the Running Men to the other murders lately."

Harris had stopped in the middle of the room–just as Rocky knew he would. "Those MOs were completely different," he said shakily. "Mutilation, spatter everywhere. Why would you?"

Rocky loosened his kris from his sleeve. "Ever thought about the trolley problem?" he asked his counterpart.

"Pull the lever, become a murderer, save lives?" asked Harris. "What the hell are you getting at? This place is scaring me, Rocky."

"The Running Men were a summoning," said Rocky.

"Cult shit?" asked Harris.

"Cult shit," confirmed Rocky. "But I couldn't figure out why the killer botched everything so badly. And then it hit me: it was a trap. Everything was so close, close enough to bait the mass-murdering, soul-eating demon from across the city...but off just enough that it could all be collapsed." Rocky took a deep, steadying breath, "It's how you catch a demon," he sighed, "and how you finally kill one."

"So the loony thought they were pulling the trolley lever, murdering two to save dozens?" asked Harris.

"And getting themselves damned for murder in the process," said Rocky. "Both sides of the dilemma covered."

"Rocky, please, what the hell's your point here?" Harris begged, from the center of the pentagram.

"The greatest good for the greatest number," said Rocky sadly, and his kris kissed red.

damn, that was fast! good job dude :D

Sorry to hear about the job troubles, but glad to hear you found something you love in writing!