“Miss me yet?”

Old villain prolly hired the new one. Or fathered him lol

[removed]

Is Daniel a pedophile priest?

(On mobile, please forgive format)

I stare at the young orc, about my height and nowhere near his mother’s impressive build. I tilt my head back at her and smile happily.

“I would be happy to have an apprentice. My daughter was just telling me that I needed some help around the farm. My back isn’t what it used to be.”

Haratha nodded at my words, her face as solemn as it could get. “I remember from last year. You taught me well, but I want to make sure Vatnir gets an education from a master.”

“Oh, that is overstating my skills.” I say, waving my hand. I try not to dwell on it, but the wrinkly, sun-kissed skin is beginning to give away my age as well.

I stare at the young orc and nod. “I hope you don’t take offense, young man, but my rooms have beds that are too small for you. So, we have some options. I can convert one of the stalls in the barn for ya. Or we can have your first task being help me build a bed for you for your room here in the house. What day you?”

Vatnir looked up at his mother who nodded. Vatnir turned back to stare at me. “Barn please. Close to the sheep. I can help protect from there. Heard a dragon moved nearby. It would hurt the sheep.”

Ah, yes. That.

“Deal.” I say, holding out my hand and giving the young orc a small smile.

Love the prose and world building. Kinda reminded me a little bit of Lancer.

Fixed - thanks!

[removed]

It's like he broke the 4th wall in his universe. Allowing him to become the consciousness of God...

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

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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The taste of moral decay swirling around with social decadence. Tinged with despair, and forgotten dreams. Sprinkle a little violence on top..

A favorite of mine as we walked through the redlight district of this forsaken city. The neon signs an eyesore as they advertised anything and everything a degenerate could hope for. But I wasn't here for pleasure, but a business call this time. It's not uncommon for the more depressing parts of a city to be a wellspring of demonic activity. You could say they dig the vibes.

My handler kept her nose in the air, and her eyes forward as we closed in on the location. A nice enough brothel if there was ever one. Resembling an old Victorian mansion dolled up with pastel shutters, and bright garish accents. I could practically smell the sin, and I shook with anticipation.

You see I've been a resident of this city for quite a while now, and one thing I've never gotten the hang of in all my centuries of play..is sharing.

We were greeted at the door by the proprietors of the establishment, a Madam and her unusually large manservant hurriedly led us to a room upstairs. The smell of sin, sweat, and sex was almost a solid force at this point as we stood outside the room.

My handler was the first to speak as she normally is, and as she broke the awkward silence we heard nothing but rambling screams from inside the room. Talking over the noise they debated on what to do, and on how to handle the situation.

Pointless.

The Clergy had already let me out of my cage, and sent me here. The decision was already made at this point, and regardless of what the Madam wouldn't stop me from going in, and solving the problem. She did protest when I twisted the door handle and walked in; the screaming madness unleashed fully into the hallway. However my Handler and her own manservant held her back from following me inside.

On the bed of the barely furnished room was a bundle of bones and skin barely covered in cloth rags. Screaming to itself about too many things in too many voices for me to really care to listen to, and to be honest I was tired of the noise already, so I spoke.

"Quiet."

The force of the command slammed it's mouth shut with an audible crack as it's jaw acted on it's own. Primeval fear replaced the atmosphere of dread, and the thing wearing the person's skin crouched on the bed like a feline ready to pounce. It was ready to fight for what it thought was it's property. It didn't quite understand what the situation, but fear makes us all lash out so I understood.

"I didn't know." It spoke out in two voices. It's fear tainting it's words as it obviously hoped I'd forgive this transgression. Feeding in another's territory is a grave injustice, and feeding in a territory which belonged to someone so far down the totem pole was just..suicidal.

"Ignorance isn't an excuse." I replied heartedly. I knew I wasn't being fair, I'd been off the radar for so long none but a few even know I'm still up and devouring. However that's how I liked it, this gig was cushy, and amusing at times. I got to avoid the politics that I hated so much, and I got to play with a few mortals on the days off. Honestly, it's a dream job for someone as old as me. I get to soak up the ambiance of manmade horrors and I even get to snack on interlopers who think the city is ripe for the taking.

As we left the building, my handler lit a cigarette, and I smelled the rain. The Clergy's men will be here to sterilize the room, and pay for the Madam's losses in a day or two. I laughed at the thought of their priests and bishops returning to their favored brothel in a few weeks time, blissfully unaware of the horrors that are birthed by their sin.

Blissfully unaware of how well they keep me fed.

Jeez wow. Shadows from Babylon 5 feels. You took this prompt and pushed it to the extreme. Kudos!

> spells and they’re associated

Definitely not the worst thing one could do with their time.

Post script added.

Post script added.

Post Script:

Daniel couldn't do anything but flinch as the Father placed his hand on Daniel's shoulder. Oblivion, Hell, or something else was his expectation but instead nothing. "Don't believe everything they say, demons lie." said Geniol. The Father pushed past Daniel and opened the door. The parents quickly ran into the room and hugged their child who was just now coming to.

The Father and Daniel retreated and made their way down the stairs toward the car which waited in the circular drive. Along the way Daniel gathered some courage and looked at the Father, "You cannot be human." Not even turning around the Father replied, "Nope." Geniol reached the car and opened Daniel's door, gesturing Daniel into the vehicle. Reluctantly Daniel took his seat.

The car pulled from the drive and past the gate. "If you are not human, then what are you? Are you going to eat my 'corrupted soul?'" asked Daniel, the last bit being in Latin. The Father looked at Daniel "I am cursed wretch and no I'm not eating your 'corrupted soul' I don't eat beings like myself." Daniel replied "Like Christians?"

The car veered hard to the left and braked. The Father was laughing hard, his smile stretched unnaturally wide and his fist slammed into the dash. "Like Christians he says... ha... you are not an idiot. Think before you speak, child. I don't eat things like me, like cannibals." Daniel was taken aback, "Cannibals?!?"

The Father suddenly looked darkly at Daniel, the mirth previously seen was completely gone. The air grew unnaturally cold. "Daniel, the Vatican knows fully well what I am and who I am. I am kept around because I benefit them. They provide me food and I provide them a service, that they are welcome to take credit for. I eat the little demons which have seeped into this world through little crevasses, and on occasion they provide me a treat of a lost sinner or two. I don't eat my followers, cannibals people who devour their own kind. Like you..." The Father stretched a finger into Daniels chest.

Daniel stuttered, "But I have never ate another human being..." Father Geniol harshly rebuked him, "You don't have to have ate a persons flesh to have consumed them." Father Geniol then gave Daniel a knowing smile.

The car then pulled back on the road with Father Geniol and his apprentice in tow.

The Bravo sat in the tavern, contemplating his next move. He decided retirement was his best option.

Then she walked in. Taller than him, obviously fitter than him, clearly out of his league. He smiled to himself, in his younger days he would have seen her as a challenge.

She stopped at his table. Sat down without an invitation.

"We're going on a journey." She said.

"Not interested. Thanks." The Bravo said and made to stand up.

"Wait. you've done the standards. You've saved some countries from themselves, by killing off their warlords. You've done the crown prince thing. You've done the protecting the princess thing. The next thing is take an orphan across the country. That's what I'm proposing," she said.

He waited.

"Long story short. The orphan is important to several factions. It would take too long to explain. Just trust me. So, you will be transporting an orphan, but not THE orphan. You will set out before us. Me and the real orphan will take another route. The factions will follow you and leave us the hell alone."

"How do you know about me? And why would I take on a suicide mission like this?"

"You'd going to do it for this."

From the scabbard strapped to her back she drew a long, beat up sword. She dropped it on the table. It made no noise.

"I have many swords. I don't really need another."

"This one is different. Pick it up."

He did. The hilt was wrapped in some kind of squishy, yet grippy material. The balance of the sword felt good. He stood and swished around experimentally a couple of times. It made no sound at all.

"A stealth sword? Great for assassins, but that's not my game."

"Oh, but I'm so much more than that." An androgynous voice whispered in his head. "I'm also a guide, mentor and wish grantor."

"That's nice."

He considered for a minute. A stealth sword with, presumably, magical capabilities would be quite the addition to the arsenal. He weighed his options. He dropped the sword. He ran out of the tavern.

He didn't stop running until he was barricaded in his cabin in the woods.

Much later, he learned that both parties transporting orphans had been decimated. Orphans and all.

Which just goes to prove: You shouldn't trust muscular women proffering magical swords, whether said swords had been pulled out of lakes or not.

Hahaha I love your take on the idea

I think I saw it last summer, which is aeons in internet time. Good prompt nonetheless, I suppose

Monday: The mayor announced that we’ll be installing spikes on the park benches at night to prevent the homeless from sleeping. Looks like I am going to need a new address. Father Martin had offered to temporarily put me up with him in the church premises. Maybe it’s time I took him up on the offer.

Tuesday: Today was a good day. The young man with the sharp suit got me a pizza. It has been 3 days since I last ate.

I hope I get to see him again. He works in a fruit factory, I think, selling apples.

Wednesday: I found a new friend today! She nuzzled up against me when I was sleeping! I think we are going to be the best of friends!

I have decided to name her Tamara.

I need to find some food for Tamara.

Thursday: Bad day. Someone stole my blanket during the night. Later, when looking for something to eat, a lady screamed at me for no reason. Apparently she wanted me to find a job.

Why are people so mean?

Friday: There’s a storm warning. I have decided to take up Father Martin’s offer. Tamara must be safe.

Saturday: A massive storm is raging outside. Father Martin has to go out, apparently a kid got possessed. I have decided to drive the Father as no one else can come to the church in this storm.

It has been over 3 hours. The storm outside rages, while Father Martin continues his exorcism inside.

I fear for the old man. If it doesn’t end soon, the old man might end up having a heart attack.

The door creeks as Father Martin walks outside. His face is red with exertion.

“I suspect it is a high prince of hell” he croaks.

Then he collapses in the chair.

I bring him water to drink. Suggest he rests for a bit.

Soon the old man falls asleep. Eighty is no age to be running around fighting demons. I feel for the Father.

As Father Martin snores gently, I decide to take a peek.

The room smells wrong, rotten. A kid lies in the bed. Hearing my footsteps the kid opens her eyes and smiles a ravenous smile.

“A girl” the thing inside her growls.

I’d recognize that voice anywhere.

I step into the light. “Hello, Beelzebub.” I say, softly.

The little girl’s face contorts in fear.

“Mazikeen?? Mistress, what are you doing here?”

Beelzebub continues staring at me wide-eyed as I walk upto the bedside table and pick up the cross the old man was using, toying with it.

“Wasn’t aware I owed you any explanations, Beelzebub” I say, softly.

“Of course not, Mistress. A thousand- no, a million apologies! How may this humble servant serve Mistress?”

“Leave.” I say, politely but firmly. “And let them know that Malone county is off limits.”

Then I add, even more softly: “I won’t be nearly as generous the next time.”

Beelzebub shudders visibly.

Then he is gone.

The child snores, lightly. He will remember none of this.

I step out of the room. When Father Martin wakes up he will discover his exorcism worked.

Sunday: The storm has cleared. It’s warm and sunny outside.

As I was taking a walk outside I was suddenly hit by a beer bottle in my face along with a call of “Fuck off, hobo slut!” from a passing car. I could hear laughter from inside the car as it then sped away.

Why are people so cruel?

"Hey, fuckin' watch this!" I yelled after finishing the rest of my 40oz, barreling full-tilt into the convenience store's outer wall. I'd spent the preceding morning hours binging the Harry Potter movies and tripping on things I probably shouldn't have been, and the urge to break into a new, better, reality was one that I couldn't possibly ignore.

All my friends laughed, but I'll bet they stopped after I disappeared. Beyond the wall was a land of pure gray, disrupted only by a vast tab of icons along the left of my vision, and as soon as I'd imagined it, I was in my back garden, clutching a fat flaming doobski. As I blinked through my confusion, a tiny elf presented itself before me on the patio.

"Hallo, traveller! I be yer magic helper!"

I swiped at the creature, its bobbly little hat jostling as it ducked beneath my slap.

"Ay, oh! There ain't no need for that and-"

I raised my Nike sneaker-clad foot and I crushed the tiny creature beneath the sole of my 95's, extinguishing it's life-force with a twitch as I ground the little soul away into the earth in a way that conjoined the creature's bones with the paving stones of my back garden.

Since then, I have never left my back garden. That was 11000 years ago, and I spend my days toking dank ganj and reliving the time I acquired my immense power; when I murdered that creepy tutorial gnome whom I so gleefully killed.

"The laws of magic are not the laws of physics, but the laws of mortals. It is like music, or theatre, there is a mode and means yes, but you do not have to follow the script to the tee."

The litch stared at me with pure hatred, but I continued, "what you think is possible, is possible!"

The litch's jaw opened with the clear intention of stealing my soul, the soul i did not have to sacrifice for immortality because i just held the belief that i could not die.

Delusion magic is powerful. One needs to be strong to make anything stick, because adamantly denying what is true until the truth changes takes a lot of commitment.

God what a cluster fuck. There were at least 10 errors. This is what happens when you write and don't bother to proofread. Sorry to you and anybody else who invested time reading it.

Oh shit. Will correct it.