It went a little meta around halfway through, and I didn’t really know what to do with it after that, so I just threw audience immersion to the wind and went goofy.

There was something, Ash-Bringer thought, that was Not Quite Right about this place.

Not that he was one to brag, but usually when people caught sight of his enormous wings darkening the skies, they fled in terror. Like an anthill kicked over, he would watch as the villagers below would scatter and scurry, the women and children to the cellars and the men to the armory. Usually there would be a call to arms and whatever village leader or militia commander had found himself stuck with the job would try to marshal the undisciplined townsfolk into some sort of defense.

Usually Ash-Bringer left those towns alone because it wasn’t worth the trouble. He would have decimated their forces, and then who would be left to raise the cattle and pigs he would have demanded as tribute? And then word would spread of the dragon who laid waste to the countryside and then there would be some sort of response from the local lord or king or what have you. Villagers were no problem, but trained knights could present a challenge for a dragon who was not on his toes. Talons. Ash-Bringer knew of two of his kin who had been slain at the end of a lucky knight’s pike.

But Ash-Bringer was beginning to feel his age. There came a time in every dragon’s life when he or she felt the urge to hoard, to carve out a territory of their own and fill it with gold and jewels, with fatted calves and plumped sheep. And so, when he saw a hamlet tucked away in the hills, in a defensible location close to the river and abutting a mountain, he listened to instinct and veered in the sky until his green scales, glittering like crystals in the dappled sunlight, made an arrow for the town.

He was prepared for the anthill that would follow. That should have followed.

But when he soared low over the cottages with the thatched roofs, the villagers stared up at him, mouths agape and weapons nowhere in sight. The men weren’t yelling; the women hoisted their children and held them up, as if getting them closer to his fearsome claws. It was odd, admittedly, but perhaps they were struck dumb with terror. Ash-bringer landed with a flare of wings and a plume of dust at the edge of town, and waited.

There was no attack, no ringing of the church bell to sound the alarm, even. Instead, a little man, heavyset with watery eyes and a beaming smile, hurried out to stand in front of Ash-Bringer.

“O, mighty dragon!” the little man cried, and he fell to the ground and prostrated himself. An auspicious start, Ash-Bringer decided. He had never heard of humans who were immediately cowed in fear, but perhaps this village was wiser than most.

“I have come to claim these lands,” Ash-Bringer hissed, his voice like the edge of one thousand knives, and heat from the flame in his throat browning the grass around them. “This village and all that is in it belong to me!”

“Oh yes, yes!” the little man cried. “Of course, mighty dragon, he of scales and flame! All that we have we offer you!”

That was – unexpectedly easy. “And you will bring a cow each day, for I hunger greatly,” Ash-Bringer continued. “If you do not – “

“Of course! We have cattle at the ready!” the little man exclaimed. “Do you require sheep or pigs as well?”

“I – yes?” Ash-Bringer said, taken aback. “And by the end of tonight, you will bring forth your gold and your wealth! If you do not – “

“Oh, we have collected it in chests and we can carry them to you whenever you desire!” the little man said, still bowed on the ground. “O mighty dragon, he of wings and death, we are honored you have chosen to demand tribute!”

This was getting weird. Ash-Bringer decided to push it and see how far he could go. “And you will send me a young maiden each morning,” he demanded. “A comely woman who will tend to me – “

“My daughter shall be the first!” the little man trumpeted joyfully as he sat up to beam at Ash-Bringer. “She is among the most beautiful in the village and she will serve you with devotion!”

There was no way. Ash-Bringer stopped and looked, really looked, at the man. He was dressed all in white and his hair was long and braided. On the front of his robes was a strange symbol – a spurt of flame, stitched in black, orange and red. Then, Ash-Bringer looked across the village. The cottages were quaint, but all had the same symbol painted on the front doors. Every person in the village stood at the edge of the gate, staring with unnerving smiles and sporting white robes with the black, orange, and red flame. In the fields beyond the buildings, Ash-Bringer could see rows of crops – pumpkins, corn, beans, and marijuana and psychotropic mushrooms.

“What is this place?” he asked sharply.

“Oh mighty dragon, it is your home, of course!” the man trilled. “The prophets have long foretold your coming! We, the devoted members of the Burning Flame, have waited 130 years for your return, as has been foretold in the stars! We live communally in a society of free love and harmony, where we partake of sacred herbs in our secret rituals. Our temple ceremonies – “

Ash-Bringer sighed in disgust and launched into the sky. Fucking dragon-worshipping cults.

Delightful! Very well done!

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Cool story.

Good job.

And who will be the sacrifice?

actually it isn't, the cat distroys the world economy and a lot of people died becouse of it apearence. but it would be really cool if we had a cat dog

That sounds like a fun world! I wish our world had a cat god

Finally an honest answer at the end. Made me laugh.

Love it! Representation and playing with people assumptions. Mama and Papa Dragon might negotiate for repayment of the dragon's horde and some adventurer heads (or at least names).

hello op, how are you? the last caracter i created is: a normal man in a world where its god is a cat

he has a mission of surviving a few decades with a small comunity till the god come back to take them to heaven

im planing on making a continuation on that caracter

I like it!

The DraGAU-9. Because when it comes down to damage control, what better than a dragon with a gun? Long range, medium range, close range, right on top of you, nowhere is safe. Order now!

Thanks. Love the stories that you also make.

Agreed. I *liked* this.

+1 for Heinlein "grok" reference

Lol, I think maybe later I will make a finish for it

Perfect fucking first real comment! Lol it actually gave me the warm-and-fuzzies 😂

The heroes had thought it odd that a tower would progress downwards instead of upwards, but it didn't really matter much. The dragon was expected, and was as such swiftly dealt with it. The Ancient Green Dragon was so old and worn-down from previous adventurers that it wasn't too much of a challenge. However, as they crossed the threshold to the room where they imagined the princess lay, the door swiftly sealed shut behind the heroes.

"What the!? Is this a trap?! Is the king behind this?!?" Maria, the rogue, pounded against the metal door, now sealed shut.

"I don't think so," Oak the Barbarian said, looking around the room cautiously. The room had too many visibly moving parts, had too many bright lines running across it. The group was him, Maria, Baren the Sorcerer, and Lewis the Paladin/Cleric. General... holy warrior type.

A faint buzz filled the air, and a red light shone down on the quartet. They closed back together, weapons at the ready, but nobody came. There wasn't anything... until they heard the voice.

*Humanoids identified.* An old-sounding, robotic voice rang out. *Please request preferred language.* As it was talking in Draconic, none of the party understood it, beyond it sounding intensely dangerous. The old mechanisms cycled through abyssal, celestial, before finally, by chance, repeating the instruction in common.

"...Language?" Baren lifted his hand to his mouth, calling out loudly. "Common! We understand common!" The voice paused as faint whirrs emanated from somewhere within the tower. The voice now spoke again, speaking in common and sounding significantly less evil.

[Welcome- Scanning. Adventurer Garb identified. Welcome, adventurers. What are you doing here?]

"We're here to rescue the princess," Oak called out. "There's endless tales about her. Power and wealth beyond anyone's wildest dreams." The robotic voice was silent as it evaluated the statement.

[Negative.]

"What?"

[Negative. No humanoid lifeforms have been here since I was created.]

"How can there be nothing here? There's got to be something?!" Maria cried out.

[There is something. Something that, long ago, did give power. Did give wealth. But no longer.]

"...What do you mean?"

[My creators, before I was made, made a substance they used to power great machines. Entire continents glowed with light, even in the dead of night. But the substance poisoned them. Thus, they buried it, deep down here. I presume the dragon hatchling outside the chamber is no more?]

"...It isn't, no."

[Unfortunate.]

"...So there's nothing down here? Nobody to save?" The construct was silent for a long time, before the room started glowing. Lights turned on in the room, slowly growing in intensity. Lighting up the walls.. upon which were written strange drawings.

Drawings of people mining into the ground and hitting a strange layer. The layer then released some strange substance that resulted in the people dying horrible, horrible deaths. And in uncountable languages and tongues, with words known and unknown, sprawling over every surface in a maddening mantra, were written phrases. One stood out to the eyes of the adventurers, and though they did not know why, the phrase made their skin crawl.

This place is not a place of honor.

This place is not a place of honor.

This place is not a place of honor.

"Ok, so now we need to talk about proper consolidation movement and three-point model wrapping," Joshua said to Death.

"When do we actually get to play the game?" Death asked, closely inspecting one of Joshua's precious Iron Warriors. Josh chose to believe Death was admiring his paint job.

"After we learn to play it correctly. I'm a tournament player, so Im not going to teach you wrong on purpose. This shit is serious," said Joshua. He still couldnt stop shaking, but his devotion to the game gave him a focus that saw past the pallor of death that hung around him like a gossamer mist.

"When do I get to pick an army? Is there one best suited for me?" Death asked. He placed down the Iron Warrior and looked at the shelves of miniatures. The shelves and shelves and shelves of miniatures.

"After you learn the rules! Then you can review all of the armies, then we can play a few practice games with some armies you like the look of, then we can play for real...for my soul," said Joshua. The shakes peaked again.

"I am a master strategist," said Death, waving a dismissive hand at the shelves, "choose an army you believe will suite me, and I shall play it."

Joshua, without hesitation, took a box of dusty black space marines from the shelf. "Deathwatch," he said, dropping the box in front of Death.

"An apt choice. They shall be my army in the war for your soul," said Death.

"Good to know!" Said Joshua. He picked up his Hammerhead heavy Tau army case. He was no longer shaking. He was no longer even nervous. This was going to be ugly.

i was perplexed, the giant paw, the called “paw of god” in the news. everything i knew about it was just thrown out of the window, the holy books were wrong, all of them, or maybe it was only misinterpreted. but caos was in the world, the paws were destroying everything that go his attention, people were thrown out of the atmosphere, buildings collapsed, planes crashed, and a lot more in a time of only 4 minutes.

when suddenly something got my attention, the giant paw was in my neighborhood, i could see his claws, They are so gentle, but yet so powerful.

-”meow” we all heard

-”meoooow!!!” it sounded pissed

all the cats started going to it, more paws came down from heaven, proving once more that we were wrong, the heaven isn’t ours, we don’t deserve it.

-”meow” a gently sound came

-”you are wondering why, why you all aren’t going to heaven” a sweet voice came from above. it got us by surprise

-”you must pay for your sins” the voice said

-”then you be allowed to the heavens i promised” it continued

turns out that the books were not wrong completely, and we maybe could get a chance.

“god, help us, help your people” i prayed

-”no praying will help now” it said

-”i will be back to pick who is truly mine” it finished

but the chaos was installed. when all the cats and other animals got up, we were left with only plants. The world economy crashed after that. me and a few survivors of my region created a little safe region with a small farm, that's only the start of our new civilization witch may continue till he’s back.

​

Part 2

So, it's a test? Clever if so.

As a wandering-knight, it is my duty to represent the righteousness of my kingdom wherever I go, assisting all those in need. And whenever I'm in a difficult situation I always think to myself;

"What our most esteemed founder, Lord-Protector Moseby, do in this situation?"

That question has never failed me, except for today.

I do not believe even he, in all his wisdom, would know what the devil is happening here.

It all started when I accepted a quest to save an orcen princess. I've saved many princesses, but an orcen one was a new experience! I wondered what it might be like! I figured she might be some kind of warrior, considering how central combat and fighting is to the orcen culture.

The rescue was the first red flag. It was my 32nd princess rescue at the time, after all. Just liberating a few marauding goblins of their existence and smashing open a dungeon wall. And yet, there she was, free shackles and holding her weapon, still wedged into the skull of one of her captors.

'Oh hello, Sir Knight! You must've been sent to save me! I would've made my way out but neither of these two have a key for the door!'

I tried to ignore it. Many people gain surprising ability in desperation, even towering orc ladies.

No, the strangest part was the journey back.

I was partially correct on my assumptions. She was indeed a warrior. A tall and menacing figure, taller than I, with a large club lined with steel at its end. A devastating weapon that delivered devastating blows.

Yet simultaneously I was so very wrong. Princess Idente, she insisted I call her, was yet more princess than she was warrior. She apologised profusely for her indecent state after being rescued, which I lent my coat to her to remedy. She ate the rations I had given her at camp with spoon and fork! She even curtsied before clobbering a troll's head in as a 'sign of respect'! A peculiar lady, who insisted I help her retrieve her tiara from some bandits whom it had been sold to.

When you have a 7-8 foot tall orc with a steel-lined club, you can figure out for oneself how that encounter ended.

She pried that tiara from the cold, bloodied and terrified hands of that bandit. I was utterly aghast I must say.

When at last I took her back to the palace from whence she came, I was surprised. The king and queen, who most certainly must be parents of the terrifying Miss Idente, were both themselves as human as I!

When all was said and done, I left with some 90 odd gold to my name. Enough supplies to get me to the next city. But the gold was not important, I was simply glad not to be anywhere near that princess.

She seems a nice and fair lady, but in battle she is a nice and fair beast. Truly, terrifying.

Probably rescued her because the dragon who kidnapped the princess belonged to his wife and he felt a moral obligation to clean up its mess. It being killed probably was just because it had a malfunction and asploded.