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That ending was extremely unexpected

I saw thatched roof cottages and all I could see was trogdor

"So why am I stuck reviving Magnus again?" asked Cynthia as she started pouring magic into the broken corpse that used to be their party member.

"Because," replied Prince Erik fon Valmark, "Magnus is a valuable member of this party and we should treat him the same respect he does to us." That made Cynthia stop her magic,

"Oh," she said, "Like he treated me with respect when he told me I should 'go back to the nunnery and leave the work to the menfolk'?" She brandished her mace just under his nose. Erik had personally seen the weapon turn men, monsters and even a couple demons into a fine paste.

"Or," said Arynia, their archer, "when he told me I should go back to the forest and play with flowers?". The elven woman was the most terrifying hunter the prince had ever met, as well as his friend Alex the Hero's fiance, "or when he told Emmet that magic was for 'pussies' and he should pick up a sword and fight like a 'real man'?"

Erik facepalmed,

"Okay," he said, "Magnus is an asshole, he's still been my friend since childhood."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the cavern, Emmet the wizard and Alex the Hero were trying to calm down a dragon.

"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry!" she cried.

Emmet was using a pair of giant spectral hands to rub the dragon's shoulders,

"Easy now," he said calmly, "slow deep breaths."

"In through the nose," Alex told her, "count to four, out through the mouth."

The dragon closed her eyes, breathed as instructed and it did calm her down,

"Thank you," she said, "I'm terribly sorry about that. Your friend just...charged right at me screaming bloody murder."

"Yeah," said Emmet, "he did that a lot."

"He did it to me the very first time we met," said Alex, "he wasn't exactly the smartest."

"Yeah," said Emmet, "not the first time he's run in and gotten killed either. Remember last year at the 'tea party'?"

Alex groaned, "why'd you have to go and remind me of that?"

"Because it was hilarious," said Emmet.

"For you maybe," said Alex, "you weren't the one getting shot at!"

"Shield spell and Greater Invisibility," said Emmet, "Name me a better spell combination."

Alex shook his head,

"Are you all right now Lady Kalithirax?" he asked the dragon.

"Yes," she replied, resting her silver scaled head on the floor, "Again, I'm terribly sorry. Bu if you don't mind my asking why do you keep someone like that in your party? It sound like he caused nothing but problems."

"Because he's Erik's best friend," replied Alex, "he has something of a blind spot when it comes to Magnus."

It was true, every time Magnus had gone charging in, sword held high, screaming his head off, Erik had looked the other way during the inevitable aftermath. Every pointless battle, tavern brawl and today's suicidal charge. The man only seemed to know only one tactic: run straight at his opponent, sword in hand. Alex had told him more than once it would get him killed, and today it got him back handed into a wall by a dragon. A dragon the party had specifically sought as an ally against the Dark Emperor.

"We must apologize Lady Kalithirax," said Emmet, "We told him we were here to seek your aid. Multiple times."

It was at this moment that Erik walked over to the pair,

"Except that wasn't what Magnus wanted to do," he said, "I actually asked me why we were 'taming a beast instead of killing it'. Honestly I'm starting to wonder why I let him join us."

"Because he was our heaviest hitter," said Alex, "If we needed something cleaved in half he was the guy to do it. Though I doubt even he'd be able to do anything with that." He pointed to where Magnus's enormous greatsword had fallen, or rather what was left of it. The blade had been shattered like glass and fragments of it littered the floor of the cavern.

"Yeah," said Emmet, "it was the one thing he was actually good at."

Erik facepalmed again,

"I get it," he said with a groan, "my best friend was an asshole. And to be honest we are probably better off without him."

"So," said Cynthia, "does that mean I don't have to bring him back again?"

"No," said Alex, "and I also have something I want to try."

As the assembled party watched quizzically, Alex leaned in close to Lady Kalithirax and whispered something into her ear.

"Why yes," she said, "I absolutely can do that."

In a great flash of magic the dragon vanished, and was replaced with the most beautiful woman that Prince Erik had ever seen. She was tall, with long silver hair and the most intense cerulean eyes. She would have been mistaken for an elf if not for the draconic horns atop her head.

"Is this suitable?" asked Lady Kalithirax. Alex nodded,

"I'd say that's perfect," he said.

And that was how a dragon became an adventurer.

I'm spoiled. I live near a vibrant Warhammer community. I see boarding played at least once a week, 5-10 2k games a week as pickup games outside of the weekly events, Apocalypse games on a regular basis, AoO has been big lately...

I'm just getting into it myself, but the community here is amazing. I just finished my first mini this week, I'd show it but you'd be horrified, probably.

"The Department of Demonic Forces for the Good of the World."

My job. Every evil you can think of exists here. And yet we are united under one cause. "World Protection". Right there in the gold plaque. Everyone here has contacted the Devil and got some sort of power. I am no exception. 5 years ago, when I was 17, I would get bullied. I made one of the greatest mistakes of my life. I contacted the Devil himself. I got a power. I could summon sasquatches from Hell. I could control them. They would do whatever I said.

But the Devil doesn't give stuff away for free. I was in debt to the Department for life. This place is worse than Hell. The building is hotter than any location on Earth. The imps will spear you repeatedly for slacking off for more than a minute. And the missions. I've seen things that only appear your worst nightmares. My co-worker was suffocated by a tree in Australia.

And now it was my turn. My turn to be speared by the legs of a giant 20-legged spider. My turn to be hit by a living action figure. My turn to be grinded into little woodchips by a cheese shredder.

"Alex Taner Hexta, please come to Room 27," the PA system says. Thats me, I think, as I walk towards Room 27.

"Hello, Hexta," says my boss, Jacob Maximine. A balding, gruff man who was the former Devil, before accidentally letting a man escape to Heaven, then being re-assigned to here. "Today, I have a special assignment for you. We have detected a strange demonic force in a cave, on an island, west of Caribbeans," Normal day, I think to myself, "But this is special. The demonic force appears to be the Devil himself, or at least a descendant. Your job will be to extract whatever you find in that cave. You will have until sundown tomorrow. I will now transport you to Teleportation Fields."

Maximine flips a switch in his office, and suddenly, everything starts violently shaking, like a scale 10 earthquake hit the office. The wall behind me begins to cave, and it reveals a giant, foggy green field, with a stone structure sitting in the middle of it. A sign next to the structure says Teleportation Fields. "Good luck, Hexta," says Maximine, before the wall rebuilds itself. I've been through this routine hundreds of times of times. I step into the structure, and a blue energy begins to build around me. Suddenly, I'm hit with the sensation to vomit, but through hours of training, I hold it back. After all of this stops, I open my eyes, and there it is. The cave.

I walk into the ominous cave. The ceiling is dripping, the walls are covered in algae, and the floor is a gross, soggy texture. I hear a moaning deep in the cave. I cautiously walk towards the sound. Up ahead, I see a blue light. I walk towards it, and find myself in a giant room full of water. The ceiling is covered in a brown, fur-like substance, and the walls are covered in blood. In the middle of the room, floating on a wood plank in the water, I see a red hairy imp, curled up into a ball. I begin to walk towards it.

"Hello?" I say, cautiously. The imp turns around, and screams "DEVIL!!! PLEASE DON'T HURT ME, I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!" The imp begins to use his hand to push the plank towards the opposite side of the water, but falls in. He climbs back on the plank, and says in a timid voice "W-what do you want from me?"

"I'm with the Department of Demonic Forces for the Good of the World," I say, "I came investigating a strange force."

"Ah, y-y-yes. I could feel your sasquatch powers. You see, I am the sasquatch goddess, Hendra. The-the-" the imp is cut off by a sudden red tinge in the room. "Oh n-no. He's here!" Suddenly a red face appears, just floating by itself. This face could only be recognized by one man. The Devil. His horns, red face, evil glare, and red eyes.

"HENDRA! YOU ARE ON DUTY!" shouted the devil, in a voice that could strike fear into any man, on Earth or in space.

"S-sorry, sir," says Hendra, trembling.

"You will be punished for this!"

"NO! PLEASE SIR!" Suddenly, a red rope appears out of thin air, and jabs into Hendra's side. Hendra's screams and cries echo through the cave, as Hendra slowly begins to collapse.

What do I do, I think, I shouldn't disobey the Devil, but Hendra did nothing wrong. He was interrupted mid-thought by the pleas of Hendra. "PLEASE, BOY, HELP ME!" Hearing Hendra's suffering voice made up my mind. I ran towards Hendra.

"BOY, BACK OFF!" screamed the Devil. "I WILL HAVE YOUR POWERS!"
"I never wanted these," I say, then scream "JANSAN!", the word to teleport back to the Department.

When I arrive back, Maximine is waiting there.

"What happened, Hexta?"

"The d-d-devil," says Hendra, struggling to string 2 letters together. "He drains my l-l-life for everyone's powers. He's gone m-m-mad." Hendra says, then collapses.

Alan: Metamorphizes into a Wedding ring

"I don't see it" made me laught out loud. You got a couple chuckles, but that really got me.

Deathwatch is my favorite to play against with tau. I had to build a new riptide to rub in the dreadnaught killed by overwatch. My friend hates it.

Railgun the pain away

Lol man aint nobody plays boarding action

Thank You!

This was pretty good, you're really creative! I like the attention to detail you have in your writing; things from the practiced motions Janet does when on camera to the tail thumps representing Dalia's nodding, those little touches are such a treat. I also really like the addition of the translator and how you used it to dictate the flow of the conversation; it's an interesting semi-framing device, or a double-framing device maybe, as the conversation is happening on live television. Overall, this was a great read, very entertaining. My only gripe was your use of dialogue tags; it's a bit excessive, since Janet and Dalia are the only two speaking for the majority of the scene. It's necessary when the producer chimes in, when one of the characters gestures while speaking, or when the translater is acknowledged. I'd say you should ease up on the tags when the convo is flowing back and forth between the two that are speaking. Again, I was very pleased with what you wrote. Good luck in your endeavors, from one writer to another!

Yeah it’s going to be ugly

That's a very kind compliment, thank you! I don't post too often here but I might have to start.

You chose the armies, you're sure this is fair?

Yes.

Cool, so you don't mind that we play boarding actions, right?

The planet Earth is an uncharted planet, believed to be devoid of any sentient life. It lies in a lonely solar system in a silent galaxy called the "Milky Way," in the middle of Nowhere, Space. It was only recently that the Galactic Inquisition of Many Planets, or G.I.M.P., discovered a rudimentary civilization on the planet following the disappearance of the starship, the Righteous Endeavor. Earth is ruled by a species of bipedal, hairless primates related to various monkeys, which we also have in space. They are called Homo-Sapiens, which, ironically, means "wise man" in a basic linguistic structure known as "Latin." Colloquially, the Homo-Sapiens are referred to as "Humans."

The crew of the Righteous Endeavor survived their crash on Earth and, after being assaulted with primitive weaponry known as "Guns," communicated their status as G.I.M.P. operatives on a mission for peace and reestablished communication with their designated mothership, the Supreme Supremacy. Operative reports note many things about Humans and how they behave, most of it harrowing; however, there is one thing that each report mentions: Humans do not possess the ability to Keeneetaa.

Such a revelation may come as a surprise to some and a disgust to others; however, it must be noted that Humans are a simple, unintelligent species whose attempt at sapience comes as an insult to any being with a giant, pulsating brain, which is all of us. Humans have shown themselves to be a violent, warmongering species with a deranged desire to destroy their own planet. They spend their time idly watching others live their lives while judging them from their domiciles, where they lead pointless, sedentary lives. Humans have singlehandedly pioneered several forms of discrimination based on any wildly insignificant characteristics such as the color of one's skin or one's preferred sexual partner. Curiously, there have been Humans who have opposed these injustices, but it does not seem that they are gaining ground in their battle.

That Humans cannot Keeneetaa is a given, they are a shortsighted species with pitifully brief lifespans. However, it should be noted that there are individuals among the Humans who have unlocked the ability; their peers, however, on average, spurn the ideals necessary to Keeneetaa, likely due to a mixture of pride, entitlement, and ignorance. Humans are not a space faring society; they have yet to become a Type 1 civilization. They have, apparently, visited their moon exactly one time, which must be applauded, as it shows that even a broken Glorkcyx is right twice a Flazar. Their inability to Keeneetaa is emblematic of many problems plaguing Humans, the vast majority of which are self imposed. While admirable, their attempt at a global society is riddled with issues caused by greedy individuals extorting their workers and others who are complacent in this evil, having only known this system their entire pathetically short lives.

G.I.M.P. formed due to our collective ability to Keeneetaa. The forces of several galaxies came together after simultaneously reaching the apex of their technological developments and discovering a means to harness the power of entire solar systems; this caused a change in all sapient beings, we evolved to have massive, throbbing brains and telekinetic abilities. There was also a second discovery made at this time; that in order to prosper, the beings of these many planets must become as one and work toward the common good. In short, we learned to get over ourselves, which is the essence and definition of Keeneetaa. It still eludes Humans on a planetary scale, but those few who have unlocked the ability give the G.I.M.P. hope of welcoming Earth into our civilization.

[removed]

I have laughed so hard at every one of these stories that I started coughing. What a great prompt.

If grass spoke common, you wouldn't need a spell for it.

Commenting cause I want to read a part 4 also I hope he has mushrooms

I completely expected that twist but it still took me off guard.

They trampled through death and grave; heralding pain and destruction.

“The Heroes of Light,” The Lich hissed “more like the Harbingers of Doom.”

The party made their way through the decaying corpses and lingering spirits of the recently slaughtered. Rapidly climbing the floors of the Lich’s tower.

The Paladin waved his mighty sword, slashing through his foes with intrepid hypocrisy.
The Cleric chanted their doom, weaving blessed spells of pain and sickness onto the helpless undead.
The Rogue, hiding in the shadows of the fallen, marauded their very souls; pride tainted his blade.
And the Wizard, who was not present. He went missing after the massacre of Phaleron; never to be seen again.

It did not take long for the three Heroes to climb the tower all the way to the top, where the Lich - the last line of defense - protected the remaining undead who have been lucky enough to escape the merciless invaders.

The wails of the hopeless, lost souls filled the room as the three burst into the room, bringing the barricaded doors down. The Lich stood in front of his last followers; back against the so-called Heroes.

“You have achieved quite the feat, haven’t you?” Spat the Lich, locking eyes with every last undead in the small room. “I suppose the three of you must be elated! Have you congratulated yourselves already?”

“Silence, fiend!” Roared the Paladin, preparing a smite. “Your reign of terror ends today.”

The Cleric started chanting her sickening, entangled fabric of holy spells. The Rogue, in response, hid from the light radiating from her staff; taking cover in the shadows cast by one of the many pillars scattered throughout the dark room.

“My reign of terror?” The Lich scoffed, still refusing to turn around and look the group of murderers in the eyes. “I’m not the one trampling through innocent lives, spitting on their ideals in the name of false promises of justice!”

“You know nothing about justice.” Cried the Cleric with melodic voice. Vanity permeating even the simplest of her actions. “You’re nothing but a monstrosity afraid of the light of redemption!”

“Perhaps. I’m not arrogant enough to claim complete knowledge over such complexity that is the matter of morality.” The Lich kneeled, trying to calm down the crying ghost of a child. “And if I’m a monstrosity because of my fear of your so-called light of redemption, then what is the Rogue, who scurries away from it.”

“I’m nothing like you!” Shouted the rogue with wounded pride, revealing his position. “This is called strategy!”

“You haven’t changed at all…” Said the Lich.

“ENOUGH!”

The Paladin howled, charging at the Lich with righteous fury. Only to come to a complete halt as the Lich turned around to face him. It was as if confusion and surprise had punched the Paladin in the face.

For in front of him was not the evil warlord he thought the Lich to be, but the kind Wizard he once called friend.

The Cleric broke her chanting.

“I- I don’t understand.” She said. “You disappeared after the Battle of Phaleron.”

The Rogue had stepped out of the shadows by now, showering in the light. Reflecting sins and prejudice all over the place.

“That was no battle, it was a bloody massacre!” Cried the Wizard. “You murdered every single person in that damned village, down to the last soul!”

“But they were the enemy!” Declared the Rogue. “They were evil.”

“They were no more evil than us. No more evil than any other person who fought for survival! For the gift of life.”

“How could you?” The Paladin asked in accusation. “How could you become a wicked, unholy Lich?”

“How couldn’t I? These souls were begging for you to stop the slaughter, but you paid them no mind! When their pleas were ignored, they turned to me; imploring for salvation. They did not want such suffering to continue. And neither did I.”

Silence loomed in the room as if it were a physical threat. The soft wails of the dead keeping it at bay.

“I used their souls as catalysts to amplify my powers, and with their help I did the only thing I could. I brought them all back from the dead. The brutally murdered couple; the child whose smile beamed with the shells of slaughtered dreams; the old man who had been stolen of a natural death… all of these tortured, lost souls.”

“I vowed to protect them. Together we built a city, away from the cruelties of human civilization. Far from their judging eyes - for judging eyes saw only the death that loomed on the surface, but never the pains and regrets that rested beneath.”

The Heroes of Light avoided the harsh gaze of the Wizard, shame tainted their act. The Lich continued, voice trembling in sorrow and regret.

“But despite all we have done to forget the past, all of our efforts; you still found an absurd excuse to justify your hypocrisy and murder.” Sorrow turning to anger. “And, for a second time, you came here to haunt these people, like the ghosts of doom you are!”

The Lich screamed the last words with desperate exasperation. Once again silence reigned supreme, only the huffing and puffing of the desolate undead could be heard.

After a few moments of oppressive silence had passed, The Heroes of Light took action once more.

The Paladin dropped his sword, taking a look into the last of the undeads hiding behind the Wizard - with fear stricken faces.
The Cleric wept under the weight of her sins, mouth shut; no longer chanting spells of agony.
The Rogue, no more in the shadows, felt the gaze of all upon him - for far too long he has been the judge, now he ought to be the judged. His skin crawled and he wished he could hide inside himself.

As for the Wizard, he has finally been found. But he has never been lost, in fact.

That last line nearly killed me laughing.

Amazing.

The historians writing about the ascension of the young Princess Tiffany and the death of her immediately family have been able to clear up some details which weren't readily apparent at the time.

The portraits formerly in the possession of the dragon Chester Earthen Flame and now in the Treasury Museum of Draconic Hoards on the face of it were non-traditional hoard items. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Chester Earthen Flame, much beloved by his family, was cognitively challenged. They tried hard to shelter him from the slings and arrows of life but weren't always successful. He had unfortunately become aware of the relationship between princesses and dragons but only in the vaguest of terms. He became obsessed with their acquisition, but had no real notion of what one was.

The historian Princess Westal of Harpavia, sixth in line to the Harpy thrown, recounted a tale of Chester Earthen Flame told by his older brother during her captivity about how Chester had to be told repeatedly moose weren't princesses. He went on to tell how their parents had come up with idea of making the princess thing a collectable trading card game. They knew if he ever encountered a Princess Protection Squad it would be the end of him so they convinced him princesses where beautiful paintings of the daughters of monarchs. They even would seed the woods with one periodically and let him 'capture' the princess. They quickly became Chester's pride and joy and he would spend days with them. With the assault and theft he was inconsolable and took decades to fully recover.

While it is widely known that Princess Tiffany was taken hostage, rarely is it mentioned her subsequent ransom consisted of the royal portrait gallery.