Thank you very much! I'm glad you liked it. I post all of my WP-inspired short stories in r/MMRicain_ShortStories if you want to read more (I do a lot of sci-fi)

The Orc Shaman laughed and began to tear out the silly human's heart, devouring it infront of his captured comrades.

"Blood Hawks for most, the butcher to the others."

Humans had tactics, but raw might and might was all the orcs needed. They could work, but they didn't have their own mages... the best ambushes, of course, were the ones were they had no chances of the others.

The armor would be taken and strung with their bones, used to forge darker and crueler weapons. The forges of the Orcs needed warming as well... perhaps, the Shaman thought, looking to his 'meal' their bones would make better kindling.

[removed]

Shades of Christine for the ghost's communication method. That added a spark of "neat" to the story.

Mid-day 3/2/045: "Warsong's Bridge."

A soft wind blows through the encampment as I turn the haft of my spear between my gauntlets. The small detachment of our regimental engineers is sprinting between the river's shore and the nearby forest as I observe the distant swamps of Kadesh. Death's hand lingers above the regiment plucking away at the strands of my heart as the enemy legion approaches unseen miles away.

The scouts say we are outnumbered and word has gotten out that we are merely to buy time for the king's army to assemble. There won't be any escape should we be driven into the knee-deep waters of the marsh, they would sooner run us down than accept surrender. The terse rattling sounds of boots scraping against dry gravel betray the sergeant-at-arms's approach as the weathered veteran appears astride my posting.

His dour clean-shaven appearance betrays his status as the section commander as he tucks his feathered helmet under one arm. He doesn't speak for a long moment as he observes the shifting of the spear's pole in the dirt judging. My half-plate is in tatters from the march toward the front as many others as the superior speaks after returning his sight to the distant swamps bridged roadway. "Armsman."

There's no lapse between my feet and arms snap to attention and the unspoken command. Years of training with the regiment have brought my mentality into a perfect representation of mental discipline. One right face raised gaze, and the pole's stamp into the dirt is completed before I voice my completion of the order. "Sir!"

I lock eyes unblinking like the soldier I've been trained to be as the officer leisurely turns to face me. There's a look of disdain in his eyes before he speaks; a judging unspoken hatred that speaks volumes as he returns his gaze to the enemy's approach. "Cut the bullshit, son, I'm not going to report you to command for being personable."

"Yes, sir!?" hesitantly I lower my parade rest into an at-ease posture before leaning onto my polearm to relieve the aching in my feet. It catches his eye but he says nothing as he sips from a small mug of ale.

"How's the watch Tir?"

"I already sent off my farewells with the corpsman sir. I'm vanguard." The old fellow gazes into his drink for a moment before tossing the clay pot down the slope. My eyes followed the shattering utensil as he spoke in his standard aggravated tone.

"They put you on the front, why wasn't I informed of this?"

I didn't say it was because my family back home was killed in a raid and that I wished to die with honor. I didn't say it was because I hated the rebel horde and I wanted to mangle as many as I could. Instead, I pulled my scarf below my collar. The red fabric clung to my helmet like a blindfold given to the soon-to-be hanged. "I don't have anything left sir."

He took a moment to inspect my person before slapping the side of my helmet with his closed fist. The blow rang through my helmet carrying my head back an inch before I returned to my position of rest unfazed. The officer grabbed the end of my scarf inches from my countenance before whispering.

"Don't you fucking try that again; there are better ways to die. You're one of us, we don't leave our own to die on the battlefield! Head to the rear line and find the medics, make sure no one we don't like gets in there. You might be the best spearman in the platoon but I don't need another corpse on my hands. Do you understand!"

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

Botw link with a pot lid and a woodcutter's axe:

[removed]

My first try took almost a decade. I just walked along, no prep, not worried about rushing. I wasn't used to that much walking then, and rested often. By my third, I was down to about four years. My personal best, I got down to two years, 97 days, 11 hours. Not a world record, but I'm no fan of getting to much attention. Which is why I was surprised when I stumbled on... stories, art, a sort of... fandom feels too small a word, but religion is the next one that comes to mind, and that's far beyond this.

A couple-three cycles back, I stumbled across a cairn or something. It had a pair of worn mocs I'd left out here, and a crude drawing of me. Middle of, I think, Mongolia. Maybe Kafiristan. Or New Jersey for all I know. I copied down the text and found someone to translate, in a the next city on my route. "Wandering Watcher," she'd said, then she stared at me. I said an awkward goodbye and started out the door, but she grabbed me in a hug. It lasted too long, especially since I didn't return it.

That was my first time where I had no idea why people knew me. I have friendly families I stop by some times. Folks I've known for 6 or 7 generations. Actually, probably more, being honest. But strangers? I rarely see them twice, much less leave an impression. Unfortunately, I was too shaken by the hug and just bolted out when she let go. I debated going back, but what do you say after an interaction like that?

A few months later, in, like Prussia or Denmark or something, I'm ambling through the woods and see a large carving, a life-sized wooden statue of me. Definitely me. The scars on my face from father's blade, the missing pinky on my left hand. It was truly impressive, and truly unsettling. I don't like attention. Worse, there were signs of age, it was at least a few decades old, but it was cleaned, not a one and done symbol of adoration, but something maintained out here.

As I kept walking, I kept finding more and more. It was, as an immortal, something like seeing a prominent wanted poster with your face on it. See, I'm not the only one of us. Well, I wasn't the only one of us. I hope I'm still not the o ly one, but it's hard to say. It's been a long time since any of them contacted me, and even then, I only set things up with maybe a half dozen. We didn't want to risk a weak will dooming our race. We maybe immortal, but that's no comfort if you get dropped in the ocean. Or a volcano. Or buried under a superstructure.

I started walking because I got tired of faking my death. The blasted scars make me pretty obvious, so I'd just disappear, lie low for a century or so, but sometimes a man gets bored. With the walking, well, no one sees you twice, and you don't do anything to make folks hunt you down, you don't need to hide. At least, that was the idea. Instead, I'm a cryptid-esque folk tale. All over.

So, I'm gonna lie low for a century. Maybe more. Bandages on the face if I gotta go out. And a glove with a fake pinky. Just to be safe. And make sure I pack some tamales. And goat biryani. Yeah, I'll be fine.

*sigh* if only twas true....

[removed]

Wait! The recording! What about the recording?

Upvote from a Michigander.

I think you replied to the wrong comment, friend. The only thing I know about Michigan is the Lions have suffered long enough

[removed]

Something doesn't stop being an animal just because it's sapient, humans are animals.

The demonic knight laughed when I spoke those words. “So your telling me that you’ve won all your fights because your too much of a coward!?” He spoke as if I had insulted his honor when he first challenged me, I merely shrugged and stood from where I sat, “pretty much, look I’m not going to argue with you, I can tell that your a pretty serious guy, but if you fight me.” I pause before grabbing my sword, “I won’t back down.” The air grew colder as our eyes met, his gaze of burning fury met my gaze of frigid fear.

I’ve always been a coward, but after entering the knight academy because I was too scared to turn them down I began to fail upwards, from stuttering my way through passing exams and tests, to beating even the toughest of teachers and senior knights, all because I was scared of what would happen if I lost. I may appear as if I have everything under control but underneath I’m a mess of thoughts and actions.

I saw that the demon wasn’t backing down so I sighed before drawing my blade from its sheath. “Alright then, let’s get this over with.” I waved a hand at him to which he responded with a manic grin before leaping at me. ‘Truly I hate today’ I thought as I began my third death battle today.

Guilty as charged. Since you’re here and I’m looking at your name I can tell you that I named a bird gwai in another story I just wrote. If you get that reference.

Mel didn't know what to say. Bruce had never been so forthcoming around him, in all the many years he'd served with him on the ship. Hell, he was sure, half the time, that the man barely tolerated him. "What do you mean?" he almost slapped himself at this lackluster response. Look at him, already squandering a rare chance to get to know Bruce better.

But Bruce didn't grunt a "never mind" like he typically would. He sat down heavily, practically rocking the entire ship with the heft of his massive, muscled body. Mel was no small cookie, but he was practically a twig around this man. "I don't have anyone or anything outside this ship, Squirt," he let out a patient sigh. "I have only my name, and every day I march closer to the day where I'm more myth than man."

"You're not that old."

Bruce, miraculously, actually chuckled, a surprisingly pleasant sound from the brutish man. "Old enough that these knees are creakin' and my back makes sounds it ought not to."

Mel grimaced. "That sounds painful."

"That's cause it is."

They sat there. Mel couldn't help but spiral. Why would Bruce share this with him of all people? In their crew, he was always closer to the veterans, like One-Eyed Jack and Russel the Menace. Mel hadn't even managed to get an official nickname before Bruce's humiliating - and strangely enthralling - pet name became his standard ship name.

Bruce leaned back with a grunt, his hands resting on his stomach. His sharp, bearded face was a mask of deep thought, and Mel was scared to even breath wrong an disturb him. He'd seen men get thrown off the ship for less. Other than Captain Oz, Bruce was the ultimate authority.

"Do you..." Mel started, but he choked. God, he was such a coward. If Bruce is a coward, Mel must be a true wimp.

"Say what you gotta say."

That was about as patient of an answer he'd ever get. "Do you ever wonder what life would have been like on a different path? Somewhere on shore? Maybe a different job, a... a family?"

He didn't have enough time to start overthinking again before Bruce replied. "Every day."

Mel sat with that, waiting, twiddling his thumbs.

"But not away from water, nah. I wonder about being in the waters as a nobody. Free as a damn bird, going this place and that with no crew. Just Bruce, no Bruce the Great." He looked at Mel's reddened face and laughed a booming laugh that made Mel's chest squeeze. "Ya think I don't know what they say out there? I hear it all."

Mel shuddered to imagine what Bruce would think if he really heard it all. Especially what he'd gotten around to with one of the low level crewmates, thinking about Bruce's massive hands so desperately he always worried he'd accidentally shout it. He was never sure if his obsession with the co-captain was just his perpetually horny brain, hero worship, or maybe both. He couldn't help but shudder in both fear and excitement every time Bruce commanded a room, or appeared back on deck after a long meeting with the captain. No wonder the crew always whispered he must have multiple lovers at every port.

"You're thinking mighty loud, Squirt."

Mel felt the blush completely swamping him in a rush. "No no, just, thinking about it."

"About what?" Bruce's voice was obviously amused. How much did he know?

"About another life," he finally found the words.

Bruce's face went solemn. "And what about it?"

Mel pulled his knees up and circled his arms around them, hugging them to his body protectively. "It's stupid."

"Ain't stupid if I asked."

Mel looked at him then, finding those stunning dark eyes trained on him. He was so potent up close, he couldn't help but tell him anything he'd ask. "I think I would have liked to have a little fishing boat and a little house, maybe. Nothing... nothing big. I just like the waters, is all. But I don't have that kind of money, so this is home, I think."

Bruce hummed in understanding, and the sound sent a thrill south that made Mel flush again.

"That didn't sound too stupid to me."

Mel had never heard his voice so soft before, so gentle. By Bruce's standards, this was the verbal equivalent of a caress. "Thanks."

They sat there silently, each deep in thought, sneaking looks at each other here and there. The deck was empty, since the crew was downstairs celebrating a successful mission with some wine and meat. Mel had snuck out early, taking the opportunity to have a moment alone with the dark waves. The ocean had always been his home.

"Mel."

Mel's whole body was wracked. He hadn't heard a single soul speak his name in many years. He'd always been an underling, a crewmate, a cog in the water-bound machines he always found his way back to. And here this man, this mighty, brave man - despite his own denial, that is - brought it back from the dead. It was like a seeing a ghost, but more thrilling than terrifying.

"Yes?"

Bruce leaned over and slowly but firmly pried Mel's arms away from his knees. With an assessing look, he used his hold on Mel's wrists to drag him into his lap. He wasn't sure who the stuttered breaths were coming from, but he was too busy absorbing the sudden heat all around him.

"I'm going to kiss you."

"Okay."

"And then I'm going to get you very naked."

"Okay."

Mel's heart was nearly bursting by the time Bruce's massive hand gently moved some of his hair behind his ear. He'd never imagined Bruce could even move like this, like stroking a butterfly.

Bruce smiled. "Okay."

Mel thought, in that moment, that he'd never been more okay in his life.

They are obviously Aeslin Mice

Without creating another prompt (Unless it's wanted), the flip side would be Earth gets 0 senators because humans already gave representation

Looks like someone got their xenogender dream there.

And I am happy for it/them!

"It's nice to see you again. It's been to long, what would you say? 65 years?"

"I'm 72." I respond irritated.

"Oh my, my how time flies. Though time is... How do you say it? A human construction?" The grim reaper says with a grin and a smirk. It's amazing how much pleasure this thing seems to take in the death of others.

As I stand before the grim reaper memories surface coming to me like a flood from my soul. Memories of my other lives. Lives my soul experienced, and memories of my soul mate. I had never met my soulmate. However, we are inexplicably linked, and I can fele the connection, and the memories of who that soul has been.

It's something I, we, everyone has gone through time and time again. Every time they die the soil experiences this. Though it's all wiped away in each new life. Perhaps it's a small mercy, it's just to painful.

"You were so close this time you know?" The grim reaper says. "Tantalizingly close!" You would think something so old as the keeper of the realms between life and death would be less cheeky. Instead, the grim reaper seemed to reveal in mocking me.

My most recent memories surface, of the life I just lived. It was a good life. Then I see my soul mates.

My soulmate was the soul in my neighbors dog. A feisty thing that seemed to hate everyone except my neighbor, and inexplicably me. Though, I suppose that can be explained now can't it?

"Aww at last you two lived so close to eachother but it just wasn't meant to be. Didn't get to be the same species and you didn't even get that connection of having your soulmate as your pet." The grim reaper mocks me.

"You really take to much pleasure in this." I respond but I don't give in to the bait, the prodding. I have lifetimes of experience for now. At least until my next life.

The grim reaper just grind. "Well you are soul mates. Maybe your souls can find one another next time? Better luck in your next life!"

The grim reaper motions behind him to a door to a new life, to another rebirth.

"Go ahead. We both know there is no other option for your soul. Not unless you want to keep all your memories. Every mistake, every life digging into you as you relive everything all at once. Constantly, forever.

There is no other option. That is, unless you want to be me."

[removed]

I'm glad you enjoyed it!

The neat thing is, you can! Vacation somewhere new - even a cheap camping trip a day away or a day trip to a museum can introduction you to some wonderful new people. I highly recommend it!