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About Digital Art / Artist Evolat animus mei, ergo sum.Female/United States Group :iconmoko-oct: MOKO-OCT
 
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Literature
Blood and Iron
The patrol found her nearly six miles from the village of Stoneford, or perhaps she found them. She was barefoot, dressed in a simple shift, with her long hair unbound and a knife clasped in one hand. Blood had half-dried in tacky streaks across her skin, and her clothes were all but dyed in it. She glided across the ground like a Queen, cloaked in an air of serene grace, and beneath the blood she was impossibly beautiful.
The patrol didn’t stop her. She stopped them.
“Nobody else in that village survived,” she said. “You must take me to the King at once.”
The knight who led the patrol sent four soldiers on to the village to see for themselves, then gave the woman his horse, to spare her feet the rocks and stones of the road. She took the high seat like a throne, though the animal, normally well-trained, sidled beneath her like it sensed a storm, a skirmish, a snake in its path. The knight assumed it was the scent of blood and apologized for his mount
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Literature
Shadows and Mist
She broke down and agreed to marry him after only a week, and he was so pleased by this that when she said she had conditions he agreed immediately.
“I am the daughter of a king,” she said. “The ceremony must be appropriate to my station, and my attire just as I have always dreamed.”
And over the next seven days she described in minute detail the decorations, the music, the feast and more, and the sorcerer-prince had attendants note every particular and begin preparations at once.
On the eighth day, she made her final demand.
“For the morning of the wedding and the ceremony, I wish for a dress of soft woven sunlight and a veil made from the mists of dawn. For the afternoon and the celebration, I wish for a dress of summer rain, and dancing shoes made from clouds. And for the evening, I wish for a dress of shadows and night air, and a crown of captured stars.”
He then understood the game she was playing, and though it displeased him to know that she w
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Literature
Risk and Reward
There was a chasm between Ignis and the golden treasure, twice the fullest length of his body at least and fathoms deep, edged by unscalable cliffs. Each side was topped by slick stone - not much traction there - and while he had wings, they were too small for true flight. With some mad flapping and a running start, he could achieve a long leap, but this…this was risky.
The treasure beckoned, swimming in his sight. He licked his lips.
Risky, but not impossible. Oh, not impossible at all, and completely worth it.
He did one more quick perimeter check - still no sign of the Guardian, and hopefully it stayed that way - then backed up, tested his footing, and dashed for the edge.
The stone really was slick. He nearly slipped on takeoff, wings whirring for all they were worth, stretching toward the other side, reaching--
Ignis slammed chest-first into the opposite edge, his digits barely finding purchase on a crack in the stone, and hung there for a heart-stopping moment, kicking and
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Literature
Balloonhog
“How on earth did you get into this business?”
There was a bang that made Frank jump. Quince E. Prickles just shrugged as though nothing had happened.
“There was a job opening at the fair when I was a mite, and I was the only applicant, so they took me on. I had so much fun I just knew I had to make it my career.”
Frank eyed the colors dancing above them both. An occasional downdraft of the breeze that stirred them occasionally dipped one or two far too close to Quince’s back for comfort.
“Yeah, but…balloons?”
“They make people smile,” Quince said, wearing one of his own. A sharper draft pushed a blue bobber right against his quills, where it burst with such sudden violence that Frank flinched. Quince hardly seemed to notice.
“And you didn’t think that maybe a hedgehog--”
“Nothing’s really stopping me. Just outmoded ideas about suitability. I do fine.”
Frank watched a pair of red and yellow
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Literature
Doomsday
“Wait, let me get this straight. There are seven of these magic rocks--”
“Gems of power, but yes.”
“--magic rocks. And if they’re all used together in a certain ritual on a certain night in a certain place, they summon ultimate power and evil and could half destroy the world.”
“In the wrong hands, yes, which is why it is vital that you--”
“Hold on, I’m not done. So, what do they do in the right hands?”
“Er…I’m not sure what you…”
“You specified the wrong hands. So if they're in the hands of someone who doesn’t want ultimate power and evil and to destroy half the world, what do they do?”
“Er…nothing. That person, those people, would lock them away and keep them safe forever.”
“So they’re really only good for the evil ritual, is that what you’re saying? No other powers, no other magic, no other benefits?”
“Well, str
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Literature
The Fool and the Fires
A moonbeam fell through the dark night air, and its radiance silvered a silhouette on a high hill: a man, tall and lanky, holding against his side something that glinted gold even in the cold light. His gaze fell in turn upon a city, crowned by a soaring palace, and the fires burning within.
“What a senseless waste,” he sighed. The thing of gold in his embrace shimmered, and the mere suggestion of a voice rang out in reply:
In truth, I find so much of what you do
To lack in sense and well-thought plans; in this
I see nothing unusual. Perhaps
This is simply a human trait I lack?

“Perhaps,” the man said, then fell as silent as he was motionless, watching the fires smolder like coals below. A gust of wind brought a faint howl to his ears, though he could not say whether it was merely the air itself or a distant echo of human cries.
“I did warn him,” he spoke again at length, shifting his arms. Moonlight fell more fully on the golden harp he cradl
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Literature
Ode to Birds
The birds found Ode early in his life. A crow perched outside the window and cawed to him as he cried in his cradle, until he calmed and began to caw back. A wren danced in the branches above his head as he waved his fists in the air, following its movements with bright, dark eyes while his mother worked nearby. A dove nestled in his blankets and cooed him to sleep without fear.
They found him too early. If they had waited longer, he might have understood how strange it was when he spoke to them and listened as intently as though they were speaking back.
He grew up known as the Bird Boy, and the more the other children teased and shunned him, the more he turned to his feathered friends for companionship, and the more he avoided his peers the stranger they thought him. When he became old enough to work he turned away from the fields and farms around him and toward the trees, saying, “the birds tell me there is more there than I will ever find here, so I will go and search it out.&
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Literature
Not as Planned
A good option didn’t exist.
The pass was a bottleneck, and in theory a bottleneck could be held by a small force against a much larger one. In practice, pitting a squadron of fifty against an army of five thousand was an exercise in futility, and they didn’t have just their own lives to consider - they were the only protection of over two hundred refugees, and so many of those were children, elderly, ill, injured, or otherwise unable to fight.
So they could run. A small group moved faster than a large one, and it was their country; they knew it best. But they were known, and they knew they were known; the scouts hadn’t attacked, and had been out of bowshot too quickly for them to do so, and now they had to assume they were being followed, and probably had been longer than they believed. They’d already led the enemy to the pass, a path which it might not have known about before, and if they continued onward there was every chance they would serve as unintended gu
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Literature
The Roses
Once upon a time, there was a princess and a knight’s son who were the best of friends. They played together for hours as children, rescuing one another from imaginary dragons and fairy rings, and though they were separated for their lessons and training for what they would one day become, each taught the other all they learned when they met again.
And so, in time, they grew to adulthood, and he went on quests to prove himself, and she built up the kingdom to be stronger than it was at her birth, and though their days were void of the dragons and fairies they had expected in their youth, they still found pride in what they became and what they achieved.
She became the Queen, and he her First Knight, both of them loyal in the friendship that bound them soul to soul, so that some whispered that he was her half-brother, a hidden illegitimate son of the former King, and others said instead that they must surely be lovers, unfaithful to their own spouses, and in searching for shameful
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Literature
Storyville Express
Right on cue, they threw the brakes, and the train screamed and bucked in pain. Passengers fell from their seats and luggage from the racks, and in the cacophony, a yellowed set of teeth cracked a smile.
When the train was still and the shouts had settled into murmurs, Benjamin B. Wolff stood smoothly and stepped out into the aisle, reaching into the inner pocket of his vest.
“Please, everyone, calm down. There’ll be nothing to worry about if you just take your seats and cooperate.”
He pulled out a gun. Held it casually.
“No need for anything…unpleasant.”
They went still and quiet, just as he liked, but sooner or later someone might decide to be a hero…
The door at the rear of the carriage slid open, and a huge, hulking figure stepped through, dragging a length of wood, apparently torn from one of the harder benches in the rear of the train. There was already a bit of blood spattered on the broken end.
“Ah, Beans. Good of you to join us.
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Literature
Gateway Hill
They say the ring of stones on Gateway Hill is a portal to the fairy realm. They say it’s a dangerous place, one best avoided, and though no one in living memory has ever seen anything terrible happen because of the stones, the stories still persist.
This makes it the perfect spot for two half-drunk kids to get a laugh by tempting fate.
Alvin and Tanner are still just throwing rocks and pinecones into the circle and drinking up the liquid courage needed to dare one another to touch one of the stones - if not sprint across the central ring of grass themselves - when the stones begin to glow. One flash, a shout, a series of rapid blinks, and there’s someone standing in the center, blinking back.
It looks human at first, but it’s too tall and thin, with delicate features that are completely at odds with its bizarre attire - bulky tan shorts with too many pockets sewn onto the legs, a shirt dyed in impossibly bright colors in a broad floral pattern, a belt with a pouch re
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Literature
Does it Make a Sound?
Like a discarded doll, the old wizard’s body sagged sideways and fell off its chair with a dusty thud. The motion pulled cobwebs loose from their moorings, and a spider scuttled off to a far corner of the cluttered room.
An arcane circle burned into the wood of the table flickered.
If a spell goes off in a forest and nobody is there to see it, is it still magic?
-
In a word, Sir Baldwin was shiny. His armor sparkled, his shield was like a mirror, his tack gleamed and the hilt of his sword winked from his side. Even his eyes, teeth, and hair twinkled or glistened. He rode into town on a white horse, beaming down on the people like an earthbound moon with a much nicer face, asked what their troubles were, and rode off again despite their warnings.
“I’ll have it sorted by nightfall, don’t you worry,” he said, and he disappeared, glittering, into the gloom of the trees. The townsfolk watched him go, then went dispassionately back to their work, not expecting t
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Literature
Water and Flame
“Let’s do this,” I growled. “No more playing around anymore.”
“A good old fashioned battle? No holds barred?” Wolfram smiled in a way that made oncoming sharks look friendly. “I like the sound of that.”
I snarled, but a peal of thunder covered the sound. Damn the weather; this was going to be difficult enough without a downpour making footing treacherous and half-blinding me. Still, there was no turning back now; I drew my sword. Pacing softly along the rooftop, Wolfram did the same. Snakebite gleamed in the grey light. I would have to dance to avoid it; the evil little twat never did fight fair, and a paralyzer or otherwise poisonous agent doubtless coated the blade.
“After you, Lady Delilah?” he asked. It was a clear mockery of court manners, and doubly so of me: everybody knew I was no Lady.
A twist of emotion into the form of a spell, and fire burst in my free hand.
“Eat dirt,” I snapped, and I thr
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Literature
Upstairs
Nerise walked backwards into the apartment bathroom.
Similar maneuvers were required to either access or leave the narrow balcony, and whenever she got halfway down the hallway connecting bedrooms to the main living area only to realize she’d forgotten something and needed to go back. The accessibility elevator outside the apartment also required this special approach, though she didn’t like using it; she said it creaked far too alarmingly, and she was afraid that one day she’d get in and it would finally break under the strain.
Cole finally put her foot down one day while watching Nerise struggle up the stairs with their groceries.
“We’re getting a new apartment,” she said. “Ground floor for sure this time.”
“But the lease--”
“We’ll find someone to sign it over to. The complex’ll just be happy as long as someone’s paying the rent.”
“Are you sure? I can manage.”
“Positive,”
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Literature
The Codex
Long ago, a scribe bent over his work, scratching out stroke by slow, careful stroke, copying vital words with precise attention. He frequently consulted a manuscript on a stand; the Codex was too full of powerful secrets and truths to risk as much as an incorrect letter. Oil and wax burned to smoke around him, and hours and days melted away as the book took form.
--that if a Man may stand where the Great Ley Lines of Pearth, Terrabet, and Uldir meet, on the Darkest Night of the Year, and that he call out the Rite of Ba’elgyr Tor, with Appropriate Sacrifice, that Mighty King of Shadows will arise and grant a Powerful Wish, even unto Creation or Destruction Untold. And if a Man may do these Things, he will find--
Here and now, a man stopped reading with a sigh. Water damage, yet again, rendered the ink unreadable, this time for a page and a half, by which point the Codex had moved on to the balance of the elements and the wheels of the cosmos, the details of which were basi
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Literature
The Debtor
“Take my hand!”
With impossible effort, Jaden dragged his eyes up from the roaring white water beneath his feet towards the behemoth in armor above his head, one massive gauntlet outstretched. A sword, larger than anything Jaden could ever wield yet still matching the scale of the man who gripped its hilt, acted as an anchor, sunk deep into a crack in the rock. His head spun with bruises and blood loss and vertigo; he could not be seeing this, nor could he have heard what he thought he did.
“Do you want to die, boy? Take it or fall!”
He was barely clinging to stone by his left fingertips. His right hand still clutched the useless hilt of his broken sword, and his first instinct was a refusal to relinquish what had once been a weapon. His second was a refusal to relinquish his life, however, and that proved stronger; his hand unclenched, and he felt the weight drop, though he did not watch it plunge into the depths.
With all his remaining strength, he kicked his
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The patrol found her nearly six miles from the village of Stoneford, or perhaps she found them. She was barefoot, dressed in a simple shift, with her long hair unbound and a knife clasped in one hand. Blood had half-dried in tacky streaks across her skin, and her clothes were all but dyed in it. She glided across the ground like a Queen, cloaked in an air of serene grace, and beneath the blood she was impossibly beautiful.

The patrol didn’t stop her. She stopped them.

“Nobody else in that village survived,” she said. “You must take me to the King at once.”

The knight who led the patrol sent four soldiers on to the village to see for themselves, then gave the woman his horse, to spare her feet the rocks and stones of the road. She took the high seat like a throne, though the animal, normally well-trained, sidled beneath her like it sensed a storm, a skirmish, a snake in its path. The knight assumed it was the scent of blood and apologized for his mount’s behavior.

She ran a finger down the horse’s neck and smiled gently as its skin twitched.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Even the most willful beast can be tamed.”

Then she sat, and waited, and hummed something that shivered in the air, and the horse calmed until it stood glassy-eyed and motionless beneath her.

The soldiers returned to report that it was as the woman said - every villager of Stoneford lay dead, and blood coated the ground. Some showed signs of a fight, but there were no armed or liveried bodies to suggest who their attackers had been, and the men had not been able to find any obvious tracks into or out of the village by any significant force.

“Then we return and make our report,” said their leader, holding the reigns of his horse. “You were most fortunate to have survived,” he told the woman.

“Yes,” she said, combing the horse’s mane, her fingers leaving elf-knots in their wake. She still held the dagger in her other hand. “Most fortunate indeed.”

-

It was, the court later agreed, terribly romantic - like something out of a story or a tale of old. The woman came to the castle and was given a wash and a change of clothes (though no one could quite decide how a simple bowl of water and a cloth became a full tub and scented oils, or how the intent to lend her a maid’s dress changed to the gift of a beautiful gown). She was brought to the King and the court to tell her tale.

Nobody could quite remember what her tale had been. She had been too stunning, too tall and ethereal, with a face and form that all found fair, no matter how different their tastes truly were. Her voice was as music, her smile a blessing, and when the King rose from his throne, took her hand, and proposed marriage, no one felt so much as a spark of shock or surprise.

Within the season, the kingdom had a Queen.

Within the year, it lacked a King.

No one in her presence questioned a thing. She was too…beyond them.

Beyond anything.

She sat on the great throne, more radiant herself than her gown of silver and her crown of gold, and she set about changing the world.

-

There was no more iron. Smiths hammered copper, brass, and bronze, and stone was chipped into useful shapes when these would not do. Sometimes something made of the blood metal was unearthed or stumbled upon, and the finders would bury it deeper and pray that nobody knew they had touched it.

There were stories, still, of the terrible things that had happened to people just a century ago who had touched, and shaped, and kept things of iron. Other nations could have it; here, in this kingdom, its very existence was a curse.

High on a hill, the tallest in the land, stood a gateway of grey stone, massive blocks that stretched toward the sky like a grasping hand. The last of them had only been levered into place within the last twenty years. The bloodstains had not yet fully washed away. The weather was strange on that hill, and animals avoided it. So did people; the air prickled across the skin unpleasantly, like the charging of lightning just before it strikes.

In the castle, miles away, the Queen stood before a window with streaks of blood drying in her hair from her last bath, a smile on her sharply pointed features. She felt the power coalescing in the distance, drawing together in a slow, inexorable tide.

It could take centuries.

But then, of course, she had time.

Humming something that shivered in the air and subtly changed her form into something a human would find ethereally beautiful, she went back to her throne to rule…and to wait.
Blood and Iron
My part of a collab challenge with JayaLaw - consider this part the prequel of the two. Hers is here:
www.deviantart.com/jayalaw/art…

We split the tropes and treatments at random, by the roll of the dice. Therefore my tropes for the challenge elements were Humanoid Abomination and No Good Deed Goes Unpunished.

My trope treatments were
 inverted and exaggerated.

I went with the flavor of humanoid abomination that went to terrible beauty instead of body horror, in the style of the worst of the Fair Folk. I'm admittedly not quite sure how well I exaggerated it, but the "playing" section of the abomination page suggested something that twisted reality around it for that treatment, so I went with that. I inverted the no good deed trope into something where terrible deeds were, in a way, rewarded.
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She broke down and agreed to marry him after only a week, and he was so pleased by this that when she said she had conditions he agreed immediately.

“I am the daughter of a king,” she said. “The ceremony must be appropriate to my station, and my attire just as I have always dreamed.”

And over the next seven days she described in minute detail the decorations, the music, the feast and more, and the sorcerer-prince had attendants note every particular and begin preparations at once.

On the eighth day, she made her final demand.

“For the morning of the wedding and the ceremony, I wish for a dress of soft woven sunlight and a veil made from the mists of dawn. For the afternoon and the celebration, I wish for a dress of summer rain, and dancing shoes made from clouds. And for the evening, I wish for a dress of shadows and night air, and a crown of captured stars.”

He then understood the game she was playing, and though it displeased him to know that she was less eager than he, he was not dismayed, for she had miscalculated and was truly less cunning than he. She wished for impossible things by the measure of most men, but he had studied the arcane secrets of the universe, and much was within his reach, and even those things which he could not create himself would not be impossible, for he had a great many powerful contacts who owed him a favor each. So he sent out to the four winds, and the powers of the skies, and called for the materials he needed and the craftsmen he required, and though it cost him much by the time all other preparations were made he was able to present his chosen bride with her dresses, her veil, her shoes and her crown.

He watched for dismay on her face, and when she only looked pleased his heart lightened again. He had outwitted her, and she was perhaps more glad of this than he had come to expect.

“All is as you wished,” he said, “so we will wed tomorrow.” And she agreed.

But in the morning, she did not come from her rooms, and when he sent a servant in to see what kept her the servant only returned with word that she was nowhere to be found, and the window was open, and the dress of night that became one with the shadows, and the shoes of clouds that danced over the earth, and the veil of mists that shrouded all from view were gone.

Only then did he understand her true cunning, and in his rage and shame he swore to hunt her down, but when he called for aid he did not have it, for he had already spent all the favors and all the goodwill he had amassed to create the tools of her escape and the useless distractions she had left behind. And so he remained in his castle in the sky, angry and alone, while she who would never be his bride ran in freedom, trailing shadows and mist and laughing as she went.
Shadows and Mist
Thinking of princess and fairytale tropes.

Used a throwback prompt: Dance shoes made from clouds, by amnesiatoast
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There was a chasm between Ignis and the golden treasure, twice the fullest length of his body at least and fathoms deep, edged by unscalable cliffs. Each side was topped by slick stone - not much traction there - and while he had wings, they were too small for true flight. With some mad flapping and a running start, he could achieve a long leap, but this…this was risky.

The treasure beckoned, swimming in his sight. He licked his lips.

Risky, but not impossible. Oh, not impossible at all, and completely worth it.

He did one more quick perimeter check - still no sign of the Guardian, and hopefully it stayed that way - then backed up, tested his footing, and dashed for the edge.

The stone really was slick. He nearly slipped on takeoff, wings whirring for all they were worth, stretching toward the other side, reaching--

Ignis slammed chest-first into the opposite edge, his digits barely finding purchase on a crack in the stone, and hung there for a heart-stopping moment, kicking and scrabbling at the cliff face below until he managed to haul himself up. He paused long enough to catch his breath, then dove for his prize.

The little dragon had barely managed to get three mouthfuls of chicken when the Guardian returned, roared, and leapt forward, pulling him off the countertop and dropping him outside of the kitchen, chattering and scolding him the entire way.

He licked his lips.

Worth it.
Risk and Reward

EVERYDAY FANTASY

Today your challenge is to make something fantastic happen right here in the real world.

Bullet; Green MAGICAL REALISM - Magical realism is a story with magical or unreal elements playing a natural part of an otherwise real world setting. (ex. Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel, The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants by Ann Brashares, Beloved by Toni Morrison, etc)

It's a little vague, perhaps, but I hope I both implied and said enough for this to come through.

Bullet; Green INDIRECT DIALOGUE: Shhhh, you talk too much! Your story may not include any direct dialogue (that's anything said directly in "quotations"). Internal thought, summary of conversations and implied conversation is acceptable. 

Check!

Bullet; Green LITERARY ARCHETYPE: One (or more) of your characters must fit an Archetype. You can find different lists of who these archetypes are herehere and here.
Roll a d10 for your assigned Archetype:
I got 6 - The Hotshot, which is someone skilled but very willing to take risks. It only appears in the first link listed above for this element.


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“How on earth did you get into this business?”

There was a bang that made Frank jump. Quince E. Prickles just shrugged as though nothing had happened.

“There was a job opening at the fair when I was a mite, and I was the only applicant, so they took me on. I had so much fun I just knew I had to make it my career.”

Frank eyed the colors dancing above them both. An occasional downdraft of the breeze that stirred them occasionally dipped one or two far too close to Quince’s back for comfort.

“Yeah, but…balloons?”

“They make people smile,” Quince said, wearing one of his own. A sharper draft pushed a blue bobber right against his quills, where it burst with such sudden violence that Frank flinched. Quince hardly seemed to notice.

“And you didn’t think that maybe a hedgehog--”

“Nothing’s really stopping me. Just outmoded ideas about suitability. I do fine.”

Frank watched a pair of red and yellow balloons twine around each other on their strings, tempting fate as they waltzed behind Quince.

“Well, all right, if you’re really sure. Good luck?”

The balloons unraveled, hit his back, and exploded.

“Thanks!”
Balloonhog
I don't even know. I'm just trying to catch up for the collab challenge tomorrow.
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“Wait, let me get this straight. There are seven of these magic rocks--”

“Gems of power, but yes.”

“--magic rocks. And if they’re all used together in a certain ritual on a certain night in a certain place, they summon ultimate power and evil and could half destroy the world.”

“In the wrong hands, yes, which is why it is vital that you--”

“Hold on, I’m not done. So, what do they do in the right hands?”

“Er…I’m not sure what you…”

“You specified the wrong hands. So if they're in the hands of someone who doesn’t want ultimate power and evil and to destroy half the world, what do they do?”

“Er…nothing. That person, those people, would lock them away and keep them safe forever.”

“So they’re really only good for the evil ritual, is that what you’re saying? No other powers, no other magic, no other benefits?”

“Well, strictly speaking, no, they don’t do anything else. But what they could do is a terrible threat, and the Doomsday Cult of Yshtora is now seeking them in preparation for the Convernal Flux in just three months’ time, which is why you must find them first!”

“But we already have one.”

“Yes! You’re off to a good start! But there’s no time to lose!”

“But you said they’d need all these rocks to do the ritual. Six out of seven won’t cut it, will it?”

“…no, at least, by all signs, it won’t. Why?”

“…because we already have one.”

“…”

“…so why do the cult’s work for them? We aren’t going to use the rocks. We don’t need them all. They aren’t going to do us any good. So all we really need to do is make sure this one rock is out of reach forever. How hard is it to shatter these things?”

“Shatter - I - what - no! It’s impossible! They are made of powerful magic, no mortal hand could sunder them!”

“Shame. That would’ve been the easy way. All right, guess we’re heading to the docks now. Thanks for all your help, old man.”

“The docks? But my research indicates that the other stones should be inland.”

“Yeah, you said that, so all the more reason to get this one as far away as possible. See you when we get back!”

--

A week out to sea, and a small bag weighted with iron and stone slipped beneath the waves with a heavy plop and absolutely no ceremony or fanfare. It disturbed a few fish on its way down, which didn’t much care in the end, and came to rest deep in the darkness, where sand and sediment slowly sealed it away over the next century.

The Doomsday Cult of Yshtora never did manage to kick off the end of the world as it was known.
Doomsday
There's got to be an easier way to deal with these quests.
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First off, I have compiled my flash fiction from 2014 and 2015 (minus a couple of '14 pieces which I felt were particularly weak, plus one that was a collaboration and thus not entirely my own work) into a short story collection on Wattpad. You can find it at this link, and it is titled "As the Story Goes." Since they're all collected into a single simple format, they'll be a lot easier to browse and read than they are here on DA.

Second, I have created a Redbubble account and have uploaded some of my art for sale as various printed items! So if you've ever thought that some original piece or other of mine would be nice on a pillow, it's out there now. Not that you ever have. But now you know it's possible. And yes, I definitely plan on making more art for these things...

In other news, my Etsy shop is still open and fairly active, so original pieces are available there as well, including some poster prints I did to sell on my own long before I found Redbubble.

So if you'd like to check any of this out - thank you, I appreciate it! If it's not your cuppa but you know someone who might like it and you go to the trouble of sharing a link with them - thank you so much! And if you or that someone you know would like to drop a favorite or a follow on any of those sites, especially the Wattpad one (publishers look harder at the really popular writings ;D) - thank you thank you!

And if you'd like to buy any of my art - well, wherever you are, you might be able to hear my scream of thanks from there. :D

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Oreramar's Profile Picture
Oreramar
Evolat animus mei, ergo sum.
Artist | Digital Art
United States
Favourite genre of music: Epic
Favourite style of art: Painterly
Favourite cartoon character: Karl, Edward Elric, Kurosaki Ichigo, Kuchiki Rukia, Winry Rockbell, Okumura Rin
Personal Quote: Sermo datur cunctis, animi sapientia paucis.
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:iconkelaiah:
Kelaiah Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2018
Happy Birthday! :cake:
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:iconoreramar:
Oreramar Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2018   Digital Artist
Thanks!
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:iconkelaiah:
Kelaiah Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2018
You're welcome. :)
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:iconcr-tist:
CR-tist Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2018
Happy birthday! May it be a fortunate one :D
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:iconoreramar:
Oreramar Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2018   Digital Artist
Thank you!
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:iconcuzzyscurse:
CuzzysCurse Featured By Owner Mar 2, 2018
Happy Birthday! Rainbow Cream Cake with candles 50x50 icon 
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:iconoreramar:
Oreramar Featured By Owner Mar 2, 2018   Digital Artist
Thanks!
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:iconirennia:
Irennia Featured By Owner Jul 12, 2017
WAAAHHH. I see a fellow epic music lover. By any chance, do you know of Two Steps From Hell?
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:iconoreramar:
Oreramar Featured By Owner Jul 12, 2017   Digital Artist
Yep! Love their stuff.
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:iconirennia:
Irennia Featured By Owner Jul 12, 2017
<3 <3 <3 And I am in wholehearted agreement! :)
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